A/N: First of all, a big thanks to all who've continued to follow this story. This chapter is very late, I know. Real life and a struggle to get the words down the way I wanted.
A cute meet cute? Please read on and see.
Don't own Chuck, et al.
Thanks to Zettel, Grayroc and my beta, Michaelfmx for their continued support, encouragement and ideas.
Enjoy!
—
SECOND CHANCES
Chapter Five: Rejuvenation
All her words crash to the ground, shatter into a thousand tiny pieces. She can't seem to find a way to reassemble even a single one of them. So, instead of introducing herself, getting down to business, she just stands there, smiling, wordless, lost in him.
In his eyes.
The photo didn't do them justice.
Sarah is used to men looking, even staring at her. Has been since the CIA did its makeover.
But, with few exceptions, there's always been a note, sometimes major, sometimes minor, of lasciviousness behind their eyes. To the point where she has no difficulty recognizing it, even anticipating it.
But there's none of that here, not even a hint. It's easy to tell he's attracted to her, but his gaze is one of wondrous fascination. A look she imagines (since her father had never taken her there) would be on the face of a child seeing Disneyland for the first time.
However, after a few long, silent seconds pass, his smile begins to fade. He begins to look a little puzzled, uncomfortable.
He speaks. A little uncertainly. "Hi, may I help you…"
It takes her a moment to realize he's fishing for a name. With an almost physical jolt, she brings herself back to earth.
"Sarah. Sarah Walker."
"Hi, Sarah. My name is—"
"Chuck Bartowski."
He looks even more confused, but then looks down to his name tag, an expression of comprehension passing over his face.
She doesn't correct his misapprehension. Not yet.
Satisfied, he returns his attention to her. His eyes search her face, as if he's trying to figure out something.
"Excuse me, Sarah, I really hope this doesn't sound like a come on," he takes a breath, "but do I know you?"
No. But, I know you, Chuck.
She opens her mouth to reply, but before she's able to do so, he launches into a rambling monologue.
"It's not as if I would normally forget someone who looks like you." He pauses, blushing. "I'm so sorry. That definitely does sound like a come on. It's just that you somehow seem familiar. I was thinking that maybe I met you at Stanford, at one of those frat parties. One where I had a little too much to drink."
He pauses again, takes a deeper breath this time. "Not that I did that very often. Meet woman like yourself at frat parties, I mean. None that I can recall. Or drink too much, for that matter. But there were a couple of times where I couldn't remember very much the next morning. You know, after the night before. So, it would be super embarrassing if we'd met before, but now I couldn't remember, and I…"
He shakes his head. "I think I'll shut up now."
She giggles. I don't giggle.
He smiles, awkwardly, red-faced, but still charmingly.
Shaking her head and, looking up into his eyes, she replies to his almost forgotten question, lets him off the hook. "No, Chuck. We haven't met before."
His relief is palpable. "That's good." He shakes his head. "Sometimes I feel like a perfect idiot."
"That's rather conceited of you, Mr. Bartowski."
His face falls. "What?"
"Nobody's perfect, Chuck."
Though some are closer than others.
He doesn't seem to know what to make of that. Not until he sees the amusement she can't keep out of her eyes.
He chuckles. "Could you please do me a favor?"
She replies with mock seriousness, "What? We've just met and you're already asking for favors?"
His face falls again, but only for the instant it takes for him to catch on. "You are good." He pauses. "So it is OK to ask?"
Cheerily, she replies, "Fire away."
"Please pretend that embarrassing little spiel never happened. If you're agreeable, I can start over. A second chance for me to make a first impression."
She nods, slowly, solemnly. "Well, it's a lot to ask, but...OK."
A grin lights up his face, crinkling his nose. She feels her pulse speed up.
He offers his hand. "Hi, my name is Chuck. How may I help you?"
She takes it, warmed, this time, by his grasp. She can't stop herself from grinning toothily back.
Time to move this conversation to a more private place.
"Hi, Chuck. My name is Sarah. I was wondering if we could—"
A voice hisses, interrupts, from behind her. "Alex, what the hell are you doing here? You break up with Chuck, tell him you're leaving town and now you think can just waltz in here and he'll take you—"
That's a little tidbit of cover story Forrest neglected to tell me about.
She turns, still holding Chuck's hand, to face an angry Morgan Grimes.
He seems slightly stupefied. "You're not Alex."
"No, I'm not. My name is Sarah."
The man flushes. "I'm so sorry, Sarah." He looks her up and down, quickly, not disrespectfully.
"You're much prettier than her." He whacks himself in the forehead. "Of course, you don't know Alex. She's Chuck's ex who treated him like—"
"Morgan!"
Both turn to face Chuck, who sternly adds, "You have somewhere else to be, little buddy. Right?"
He looks back and forth between Sarah and Chuck, then smiles. "Of course. I'll leave the two of you alone." Morgan, notices their joined hands, looks at her, gives her a little bow. "Nice to meet you, Sarah." He wanders off toward the photocopiers.
Sarah watches him for a couple of seconds then returns her attention to Chuck. "Nice to have a friend looking out…"
She stops, the smile dropping from her face, shocked at the abrupt change in his demeanor. Gone is the warm, shy amiability of just a few moments ago. In its stead is a cold, hard-edged bitterness, anger. And, unless she's misreading him, a level of disappointment.
He drops her hand.
His voice is flat, hard, stinging even though he's only speaking loud enough for two of them to hear. "You can drop the act. You're Forrest's replacement, aren't you, Agent Walker? That's what's so familiar about you. I should've realized it the first second I saw you. After we 'broke-up', she informed me the CIA would be sending someone else out here. Some by-the-book enforcer of the rules who wouldn't put up with all the crap she'd had to deal with."
"Chuck—"
He cuts her off, harshly. Shakes his head. "You know, you'd think you guys could've come up with a more original approach. What is it with the CIA? Do they have this endless supply of tall blondes they can use to put one over on chumps like me? Although, knowing how I felt about the last one, your boss might've thought about sending a brunette this time."
"Chuck—"
He cuts her off again, sighs, a mixture of resignation and frustration overlaying his anger. "So, what's the drill? I'm to pretend that I fell for you on the rebound? That I'm ready to move on to a new relationship after only a few days have passed? Do you think that anyone will believe that a woman who looks like you would actually be interested in a guy like me? The whole Forrest scenario strained belief the first time. Really don't think it'll fly a second time."
"Chuck—"
He cuts her off a third time, hisses, "Stop calling me Chuck. Like you know me or something. I'm just an assignment to you. A name and face in some file folder."
He slumps. "I hated it when she called me that."
He suddenly straightens, his head held high. "But, if we're gonna fake it, I suppose that's what you'll have to do and I suppose I'll have to call you Sarah. At least in public."
He shrugs his shoulders. "In the end, I really don't have a choice, do I?
"So, what'll be this time Agent Walker? Ellie will find out Devon's been cheating on her? He'll lose his license over some malpractice issue? They'll discover a cache of child porn on Morgan's computer?"
He looks her in the eye, his words dripping sarcastic disdain. "But maybe you've come up with more imaginative ways of making me cooperate, Agent Walker. Won't make any difference, though. Despite what you may have been told, the damn thing simply stopped working. Wasn't my choice, even though Forest made it clear she believed otherwise."
He glares, arms crossed in front of him. "So, threaten away, Agent Walker. You can lower the bucket as often as you want, but you're still gonna come up dry."
Agent Walker. It's hard to believe two little words could be spoken with so much vitriol. It's as if he's stabbing her, over and over.
This is so, so far from the way I wanted…hoped…this meeting to go.
Her first impulse is to shut down, deeply wounded by his words. Or maybe lash out in turn, angered at his unwillingness to let her get in a word in edgewise, to give her any chance to clear up his misconceptions.
Instead, she does neither.
What did you expect, Sarah? You walk in here, flirt with him as Forrest did instead of telling him why you're actually here. Is it any wonder he jumped to wrong conclusions?
I need to regroup.
She takes a step back. Takes a deep breath.
Pushing her frustration, her disappointment aside, she strives to keep her tone of voice businesslike, neither angry or hurt.
"Mr. Bartowski, we've gotten off on the wrong foot. That's mostly my fault and I'd like to apologize."
She pauses. "But what you asked of me, I now ask of you. A second chance to make a first impression. Are you willing to extend me that courtesy? Or is it too much to ask?"
He has the grace to look a little chagrined, perhaps regretting his tirade, at least a little.
His arms drop to his sides.
"No, I guess not," he begrudgingly replies.
Not all she'd hoped for, but, at this point, she'll take what she can get.
"Thank you. Is there someplace more private where we could go to talk?"
He glances down at his watch. "We close in five minutes." He thinks for a moment before going on, "There's a place I like not far from here."
"Bennigan's? I saw the sign when I drove in."
This elicits a small, brief smile, one she's happy to see, though puzzled by it. He shakes his head. "No, definitely not Bennigan's."
Abruptly, he asks, "You hungry?"
She stops, trying to think the last time she'd eaten, realizes it'd been that tasteless, generic reheated meal on the plane.
"I could eat."
"Good. I could too."
He glances at her, then turns away, almost mumbles, "Maybe that's part of the reason I was so grouchy."
He doesn't offer anything further, but she recognizes his small attempt at some sort of apology.
She doesn't comment, just asks, "I'll meet you out front?"
He nods. "See you in a bit."
…
She's waiting on the sidewalk, enjoying the warm night air (a contrast to the autumnal coolness she left behind in D.C.) when he exits the store.
Somehow, he looks even taller now that he's freed from his assigned position behind the Nerd Herd counter. He's wearing a dark Buy More jacket, his name inscribed on the right side, and black, hi-top Converses.
Chuck's Chucks. How appropriate.
A quick, little smile passes across her face. He notices. Raises an inquiring eyebrow.
"I like the shoes."
He's surprised. "You do?
She nods.
"Forrest always hated them. Thought people would notice them when I was supposed to be blending in during a mission." He snorts. "As if they wouldn't notice a lanky six-three man with a mop of curly hair.
Lanky. I like that word. Suits him.
"She wanted me to get rid of them, but I put my foot down." He stops, embarrassed.
"Please pretend you didn't hear me just say that."
"Last thing I remember was the lanky part."
He gives her a grateful glance.
"Where's your car?"
She gestures to her right. "This way."
He nods. Their little moment seems to have passed, so they walk, unspeaking, to her vehicle. After they seat themselves and buckle up, she asks, "Where are we going?"
"Turn right onto Burbank Boulevard. Left on North Hollywood. Then right on West Victory."
"OK."
"You like burgers?"
"Yeah, I do."
"That's good. This place is a bit of a hole in the wall, nothing fancy, but they make a great cheeseburger. And no too expensive."
"Sounds good."
A few minutes later finds them parked in front of a small bar/restaurant she would've never noticed on her own. Lou's Place. The image of the owner as a crusty, older man, a former reporter, pops into her mind for some reason.
She reaches for her door handle, but stops as she sees him fidgeting in his seat, looking out the side window. He appears uncomfortable, as if he's come to some sort of difficult decision.
Without turning her way, he speaks, "Look, I know you just here to do your job. And I expect that being here is not your first choice. Certainly wasn't Forrest's. I suspect Burbank may be the armpit of the spy world.
"Truth be told, I really don't want you here, either. I don't even understand why they sent you.
The damn thing is dead. So why waste your time and mine? I'd like to move on with my life. Put the last two years behind me. But the government doesn't seem to know how to say goodbye."
He turns to her then, earnestly asks, "So why are you here, Sarah Walker?"
At least he's willing to use my name. That's a step forward.
She wonders where to start.
"It's complicated. And I am hungry. So why don't we go inside and eat? Then I'll tell you the story. OK?"
A moment or two passes. He nods. "OK."
…
She likes the place immediately. Quiet, cozy. Booths on one side, a bar on the other. Seemingly empty except for a couple sitting side-by-side at the bar, engrossed in each other.
A short, perky looking brunette walks up, smiles.
"Chuck! I haven't seen you for a while. You OK?"
"Sure, Lou."
Not what I expected.
"Under the weather for a while, but fine now."
She raises her arms. "Come here, you big goof."
Chuck bends over, a long way over. The woman must be over a foot shorter than him.
She hugs him, gives him a brief kiss on the cheek. He straightens up.
The woman looks inquiringly Sarah's way.
"Sorry. Lou, this is Sarah."
Lou's smile is friendly, but Sarah can sense the scrutiny in the woman's eyes. "Hi, Sarah. Good to meet you."
I'm being evaluated. Why?
"Good to meet you, Lou."
The woman turns back to Chuck. "So, you'll be wanting a spot for two tonight?"
Chuck seems a little flustered. "Yes. The booth near the back, please."
"Done." She leads them to the last booth. They sit, facing each other.
"Your usual?"
He nods. She turns to Sarah.
"Chuck told me the cheeseburgers are good. I'll go with that. Medium rare. Extra pickles, please."
"Two cheeseburger platters, it is."
Lou studies the two of them for a few seconds. "I think you two need a couple of beers. Maybe loosen things up a bit. Sound good?"
They both nod, not looking at each other.
"OK. I'll give you guys some privacy."
Sarah watches him watch Lou walk toward the kitchen. He looks wistful. Deeply saddened.
Abruptly, her irritation, her disappointment sloughs away.
What happened here, Chuck?
Quietly, she asks, "Friend of yours?"
He nods, still looking in the direction of the kitchen. "One day, last year, I lost it, blew up at Forrest in the Buy More. I was so tired and she just kept on pushing and pushing. Since we couldn't walk it back, she decided we'd act as if we'd temporarily broken up. She thought it would add realism to the cover.
"Around then, Lou came by the store. Phone problems. We hit it off. She kept dropping by. We'd flirt a little. I took her to lunch a few times at the deli in the Buy More Plaza. Dinner once."
He looks at Sarah. His voice hardens. "Until Forrest noticed and put the kibosh on it. Made it abundantly clear there was no room in my life for what she termed as 'outside interests'."
"Lou's moved on. She got engaged last month."
He sighs.
"I saw the ring."
He nods, tries to sound angry, but she can tell his heart's not really in it. "I guess you agents are trained to notice stuff like that, huh?"
He looks back toward the kitchen, shoulders slumped.
Sarah doesn't say anything, just watches the emotions pass across his face. His despondency, his hopelessness impels her to speak. It's not how she'd planned to start things, but she can't bear to see him so down.
He hurts. I hurt.
"Chuck."
He turns to face her, his earlier displeasure at the use of his name apparently forgotten for the moment.
"Please trust me when I tell you that things are going to get better from now on."
He sounds weary, defeated. "Tell me, just how am I supposed to do that? Trust you? I've been lied to for so long. Forced to deceive everyone I care about. To do things I hate. So, why should I trust you? Why should I believe you're really any better than Forrest?"
He won't like you any better than he liked me.
No, I won't…I can't let that happen.
Give him something, Sarah.
Making sure she has his attention, she firmly states, "I'm not here to play the part of your girlfriend."
He's clearly taken aback by her words, her tone.
"Excuse me? I don't understand."
"No more fake relationships. We're done with all that. You'll be free to pursue anyone you care about."
Incredulous, it takes a few seconds before he's able to reply, "Really? You mean I won't have to pretend to like you?"
His words are a knife to her heart, but she fights off the sharp, stabbing pain, somehow manages to give him a weak smile. Consumed by his burgeoning joy, he doesn't seem to notice that it doesn't reach her eyes.
"No, you won't."
"God's truth?"
She nods. "God's truth."
He sits up straight once more, smiling, suddenly reenergized. He opens his mouth to comment, but stops when Lou comes back to the table holding a tray with two beers and a single glass.
"Here you are, guys. I know Chuck, but I wasn't sure about you, Sarah." Pause. "Bottle or glass?"
"Bottle's fine for me."
"Good." Lou tosses down a couple of coasters, plunks the bottles on them. "Cook's a little slow tonight. But that'll give you two a chance to talk. Enjoy the beers."
Lou walks off, but this time Sarah notices that Chuck's eyes don't follow. Instead, they remain focused on her.
"There's something I don't get. You're telling me you're not here to be my fake girlfriend and yet you've been sent here as Forrest's replacement."
"Yes."
"I understand what you're you're not here to do, but that doesn't answer the question of why you are here.
"And please, don't say it's complicated again. I've had enough complicated for two lifetimes."
Sarah regards him silently for a few long seconds.
Un-complicate. Un-obfuscate. Actions the exact opposite of what had been drilled into her over and over, to the point where it had become second-nature.
But now, for one the few times in her life, certainly the first time while she's been on an assignment, she can actually be open, truthful.
Terra incognita.
It's a little terrifying.
Before she can overthink it, she tells him, "I was sent here to terminate the operation. To shut..."
Her voice tapers off, puzzled, when she sees him pull back, his eyes wide with fear. But it's gone as quickly as it came and he relaxes once more.
After clearing his throat, he asks, "May I give you a piece of advice, Sarah Walker?"
She nods, unsure where he's going.
"Throwing the word terminate around, especially in this context, and especially with nerds like myself, has the tendency to create some rather….unpleasant…mind pictures."
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"You know, the movie? Arnold Schwarzenegger?"
She looks at him blankly.
He goes on in a deep, Germanic voice, "I'll be back?"
She shakes her head. "No idea what you're talking about."
He lets out a small chuckle. "Don't watch much sci-fi, do you?"
"No. I don't."
"Arnold played a Terminator, a robotic assassin,sent to take out the hero. Suffice to say, you using that word had me going for a few seconds. Until I realized how foolish I was being."
He looks her straight in the eye. "If you'd been sent to terminate me, I'd already be dead."
He says it so matter-a-factly, so calmly, that it takes a few seconds for his statement to sink in. When it finally does, she's horrified, sickened by the thought that he might, even for a moment, believe her capable of doing that to him.
Before she can contain herself, she grabs his hand with both of hers, blurts out, "No, Chuck, no! I could never do that!"
She takes a deep breath, tries to rein in her emotions. More calmly she continues, "I'm here to watch over you. To protect you."
Clearly surprised by her impulsiveness, he glances down at her hands encasing his, then studies her face once more. He asks, a mixture of disbelief and hope in his voice, "Really? To protect me? That's your main reason for coming here?"
Her cheeks burning, rendered intensely self-conscious by her impassioned outburst, she pulls her hands back, places them in her lap. She nods.
"From whom?"
"Any remnants of Fulcrum. Or anyone else who might want you gone."
Including the government. But I can't tell him that. Yet. Baby steps.
"And what if the government assigns someone to take me out like it did before?"
She stares, slack-jawed. "How…how…?"
"I not naive." He pauses. "Maybe I was before all this happened, but not anymore. If I hadn't been so relieved to hear that the new Intersect computer was ready to go online, I would've realized that it made me redundant. What's the saying, 'Superfluous to need?'
"And too dangerous to leave hanging around, at least in their eyes. Especially Graham's. Mind you, I only realized this after your former boss died and I was back to being the sole Intersect.
"I assume you've spoken with Casey?"
"Yes, just after I flew in. He filled me in on a lot of what's happened here. He's a good man."
He gives her a long look. "Yes, he is.
"Did he tell you about how he got me falling-down drunk on the night before the new computer was to be fired up?"
She looks down at her beer bottle, fiddles with the label. Warily, she replies, "Why do you ask?"
"Don't worry. It's not as if you'll be giving away any secrets. It took me couple days, but I eventually figured out that he'd been protecting me from whomever they'd sent to dispose of me. Forrest, I assume?"
"You figured that out?" She shakes her head in wonder. "And yet you kept working for them. With her. Why? Why would you do that after realizing what they'd planned?"
"A number of reasons. She'd made it clear, early on, that there was no place for me to run, no place to hide.
"And there were the threats against my friends and family if I didn't cooperate."
At this fresh reminder, Sarah feels her rage flare up once more.
"Casey tell you about that?"
She nods, curtly. "He suspected it was something like that. So did I. Forrest confirmed it for me."
He raises an eyebrow. "So, you've also spoken to the woman-with-a-heart-of-granite. I imagine that conversation didn't go quite as smoothly as the one you had with Casey."
She emphatically replies, "No. It did not."
She pauses, hesitant, even now, to reveal the flaws of a fellow agent, but she quickly pushes aside any thoughts of misplaced loyalty. "Forrest was the wrong choice for this assignment. When I saw her, earlier, I told her in no uncertain terms how I felt about the way she'd mishandled things here."
He's surprised by her candor. "You mean you and her are not on the same page?"
Her reply is immediate, forceful. "We aren't even in the same damn book."
He regards her for what seems like a long while, then nods slowly. "You know, I starting to believe that, Sarah Walker."
She holds his penetrating gaze for few seconds, then blushes, looks down into her lap.
Thank you.
There are a few moments of silence until she hears him say, tentatively, "I haven't told anyone the biggest reason I kept on going."
She looks up again. "No one?"
He shrugs his shoulders. "Who was there to tell? I couldn't say anything, for obvious reasons, to the people I care about. Casey's a good man, but he's a man's man, not the type to talk about feelings and stuff. And I sure as hell wasn't going to confide in Forrest."
"So, just when you needed it most, you were cut off from support? Emotionally isolated?" The words come out quietly, almost as if she's musing to herself.
He nods. "Yeah, that's a pretty good way of putting it. I really could've used someone to talk to."
Me too, Chuck.
"At the risk of sounding like a nerd once more, there was one superhero who had to recognize that along with power comes responsibility. Yes, I had this…this heaviness…in my head, and I hated what it did to my life.
"But I couldn't just walk away because I also came to realize that it gave me the ability to help protect good people. To shield them from at least some of the evil in this world."
He blushes. "Sorry, that sounded like something out of a comic book, didn't it?"
Moved by his honesty, his openness, she shakes her head, softly replies, "No, Chuck, it sounded like something out of your heart."
He blinks in surprise. "Really?"
"Really." She nods.
"Thank you. Thank you for understanding…Sarah."
Hesitantly, he reaches across, looking like he's going to place his hand on hers. But then he seems to think twice and hastily withdraws it.
I wouldn't have minded.
"You're welcome, Chuck."
He gives his head a little shake. "You continue to surprise me. You're not what I expected…or feared."
At that moment they hear footsteps. They both turn to see Lou walking their way, a large plate in each hand.
She sets the plates on the table, then looks back and forth between the two of them.
"You guys doing OK?"
Chuck glances at Sarah. She smiles.
He replies, "Yes, Lou. We're getting there."
She nods, a look of satisfaction on her face. "I'm glad to hear that. I'll be at the bar if you need anything."
Sarah replies, "Thank you, Lou. The food smells delicious."
She nods. "Thanks, but smelling doesn't put meat on your bones. Eat! Now!"
They both chuckle as Lou turns and walks toward the bar.
He nods toward the food, grins. "I guess we should follow orders?"
"Sounds good to me."
She picks up her burger, the whole thing. It seems Lou is a believer in the all or nothing principle.
Taking a bite, she moans, just a little. Without thinking, her mouth still half-full, she exclaims, "Chuck, this is fantastic. I can't recall the last time I had a burger this good."
Abruptly realizing what she's just done, she hastily, embarrassedly covers her mouth with her hand.
He doesn't seem offended, however. Rather, he just grins.
"Don't worry. That's the first reaction I had as well. Go ahead and eat."
She swallows and smiles back.
Tacitly, they agree to finish their meals before conversing any further.
…
A few minutes later, she pushes away her empty plate, then picks up her beer and takes a healthy swig.
Only then does she realize he's looking at curiously.
Glancing at his plate, she sees he's only about two-thirds done.
She flushes. "Sorry. Guess I was really hungry."
He waves it off. "I'm just happy to see you aren't one of those carrot-stick girls."
She raises an eyebrow, inquiringly.
"You know, the whole, 'I'm-sacrificing-so-much-just-so-I-can-look-good-for-you-so-you-damn-well-better-get-down-on-your-hands-and-knees-and-worship-me' schtick. Couldn't abide that."
She laughs. "No, definitely not a carrot-stick girl."
"So, Sarah why are you here? I understand that that the CIA felt there was a need to protect me, or at least go through the motions. But they could've sent any junior agent. And although I don't know your history, I'm quite certain that you're anything but new to this business."
Taken aback by his perceptiveness, she asks, "Why, Chuck? What makes you so certain?"
"There's a certain…weariness, that I've often seen in Casey's eyes. And Forrest's as well, to be fair. A tiredness that extends well beyond the physical. And when I look in your eyes, I see it too.
"You've been at this a while, haven't you?"
"Yes, I have. I was…quite young when I was brought into the CIA."
"How young?"
She hesitates.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. Ellie always told me you never ask an age question from a woman and here I go doing it—"
She leaps. "Seventeen."
His mouth drops. "Seventeen?"
"Yes."
"That can't be legal, can it?"
"No, Chuck. It wasn't. Graham recruited me personally. Coerced me, really. Before I finished high school."
She sees his color rise. Clearly, he's angry, but, just as clearly, not at her.
"You mean to tell me that…that bastard forced you into joining the CIA. At seventeen. How? Did he threaten you somehow? Like Forrest did with me?"
Yes. Of course. How come I didn't realize that until now?
"Yes, that's exactly what he did, Chuck. A thinly disguised threat against my father."
It seems like he wants to ask for details, but appears to change his mind.
She's thankful he doesn't press for more.
"They know how to get to us, don't they, Sarah?"
Us. I like the sound of that.
She replies, "Yes, Chuck. They certainly do."
He grins, conspiratorially. "Well, Sarah Walker, we can't let the bastards win now, can we?"
She can't hold back an answering grin. "No, we can't."
"So, to get back on track…you're here because..."
"I was supposed to be Forrest, Chuck."
That's a rather clumsy way of phrasing it.
Predictably, he's confused. "I'm not sure what you mean."
"I was the agent originally assigned to come out here and retrieve the Intersect."
"Oh, I see." He chews on that for a few seconds. "Why didn't you?"
"The night before I was to leave I was in a serious accident. My car was hit by a kid running a red light. My left leg was shattered. I spent the next year recovering."
His hand moves across the table again, but this time he doesn't stop until it comes to rest lightly upon hers. There's genuine sympathy in his eyes, in his voice. "I'm so sorry, Sarah. That must've been a terrible time."
She shrugs, doing her best to ignore the sudden tingle flowing up her arm. "I survived. I found out the next morning that Forrest had been sent here to replace me.
"I didn't think she was really suitable for the role, but it wasn't my decision to make."
"Did you know her before?"
"Only by reputation. And an acquaintance with some of her previous missions. But it was enough."
"So why did you think she was so wrong for me? For Burbank?"
"I knew about your parents leaving. About Stanford. How life had kicked you around. Her…style…was wrong for someone who'd gone through all that."
He's shocked. "How did you know about all that?"
"I'd read your file, Chuck."
"Wait. I had a file even then?"
"Yes. But if it's any consolation, it looked quite new. I suspect it was hastily assembled when they found out Bryce had sent the Intersect to you."
"Ah, yes. Dear, old Bryce. Have you heard how he's doing? Please don't tell me he's been forgiven for going rogue and sending this damn thing to me. He ruined my life so I kinda hoped he's leading a miserable one as well."
It's Sarah's turn to be shocked. "Chuck, Bryce is dead. Shot while stealing the Intersect. Didn't they tell you?"
He's bewildered. "Bryce is dead?"
"Yes."
Still disbelieving. "He's actually dead?"
"Yes, Chuck."
Not the time to tell him who the shooter was. That's Casey's job.
He starts to pull his hand back, but she doesn't let him. Grasps it firmly.
She leans closer. "Are you OK, Chuck?"
He starts to nod his head, but then shakes it instead. "No, not really. Sure, I wished the man dead lots of times, but I didn't really mean it."
He quietly adds, his voice choked, "We were roommates…friends…at Stanford, Sarah."
"Yes, Chuck, I know."
She hesitates, unsure how much she should tell him about her and Bryce. Her ingrained reaction is to hold back, still so unused to sharing anything with anyone.
He needs to know, Sarah.
"Chuck, I can understand some of what you're going through. Your sense of loss."
"How, Sarah?"
"Bryce and I were partners before all this happened."
"Partners? You and Bryce?"
"Yes, we were a team that went by the name of the Andersons. A married couple."
He's stunned. "You were married to Bryce?"
She flushes. "Sorry, I wasn't clear. We portrayed a married couple. It was a good cover."
"So you were like Forrest and me. Pretending to have a relationship."
She's sorely tempted to leave it at that.
No. No lies. Can't build trust on lies.
"No, Chuck. We weren't pretending. Not totally. There was a considerable period when we were…close."
"Close?" Then it sinks in. He blushes. "Oh!"
He shakes his head. "I"m sorry, Sarah. That's none of my business."
Giving his hand a squeeze, she assures him, "Don't worry. I didn't think you were prying."
He appears to be about to thank her when she sees him put the pieces together.
"Wait. Am I understanding that you were badly injured and lost your boyfriend all on the same night?"
"Not quite. Yes, the accident and Bryce's death did happen on the same night, but we'd been apart for some time before that."
"Still, it must've hurt, Sarah."
Her first instinct is to shrug it off, hide the pain within herself. But when she looks into his eyes, brimming with sympathy, her resolve crumbles.
"Yes, Chuck, it did. Deeply. He betrayed me. Betrayed whatever we'd had before."
"And then to get hurt, to be out of action for so long." He shakes his head. "I admire you. I don't know if I would've had the strength to bounce back. To get back out in the field after everything you'd been through. That's a real accomplishment."
She squirms in her seat, warmed, but, at the same time, feeling unworthy of his praise.
But I didn't bounce back.
"Thank you, Chuck, but the truth is that this is the first time I've been in the field since the accident."
"I don't presume to know you, but that seems like a waste of talent."
She's about to tell him it's complicated, but manages to check herself in time.
"Let me try to explain what happened."
"OK."
"Did you ever flash on anything about me, Chuck?"
He thinks for a few moments. "No, not that I can recall."
She's unsure if his lack of knowledge makes it better or worse.
Here we go.
"I was Langston Graham's right-hand man. His go-to when matters needed to be taken care of."
"I'm not sure what that means."
Don't sugar coat it.
"I was his enforcer, Chuck."
He flinches. "So that meant taking out…people."
She nods, reluctantly. "Yes. Sometimes."
He absorbs that, thoughtful.
"You don't seem to be overly shocked."
"I guess I'm not. At least not as much as I would've been before all this happened. A couple of years in this business will do that to you. I've seen a lot of things, both up here,' he taps on his temple, "and on missions. As well, with all the flashes, I've come to know my handler's files pretty well by now. I imagine yours would be similar."
Worse.
She agrees. "Yes, that's true." Baby steps.
"Don't get me wrong. I see what this life has done to me in just a couple of years. I can only imagine what it's done to you. I understand the necessity but that doesn't make it any more pleasant."
He squeezes her hand. "Sarah, it's brutally unfair that you were given no choice, that you've been forced into this life. Have had to do the things you've done. I'm so sorry."
She feels tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. Blinks them away before they fall.
When was the last time anyone said a kind word to me?
She places her free hand on top of his, says, softly, "Thank you, Chuck."
"You're welcome, Sarah."
They share a moment of comfortable silence. Then he asks, "Did things change when Graham died?"
"Yes, they did. After they discovered the many illegal actions he'd been engaged in, there was a...reaction. A movement to portray the CIA in a kinder, gentler, more open light.
"Graham's enforcer was a symbol of a time they wished gone. I became a relic, a dinosaur from another era. No one wanted to be reminded of the past, so I was shunted aside, consigned to the bowels of Langley. Given a meaningless job until they could figure out how to get rid of me."
He nods, angrily. "So the goddamned CIA made you into what you were and then proceeded to punish you for being exactly that."
"Yes. That sums it up well."
"So being sent here..."
"Was a convenient way of getting me out their hair."
"And a make-work project, right? Babysitting the now useless former Intersect."
She flushes at his insight. "Yes. I'll admit it. That's what I thought when the director told me I was being assigned to you. I feared you might be a whiner, clinging to me, complaining about your lot in life."
He raises an eyebrow.
Hastily, she adds, "But I don't think that anymore."
"Why not?"
"On the way here, I reviewed the team's file, realized how much had been accomplished. I read between the lines, saw how you'd handled all the crap they dumped on you. How you went ahead and did the job with minimal complaint."
She grins. "And I talked to Casey. He told me how courageous you'd been."
He gapes. "He actually said that."
"Yes, Chuck, he did." She tilts her head, inquiringly. "You know he likes you, don't you?"
He flushes. "He never said anything, but, yeah, I sorta figured that out."
She smiles at his discomfort. "Not to say that you didn't surprise me tonight. You're a big boy, Chuck. You don't need a babysitter. Nor do you deserve to be handled.
"But maybe you could use another friend. Someone to help you through this transition." She pauses, suddenly a little unsure of herself. "And maybe you can help me, too."
"Help you, how?"
"I was informed that, at the end of a year, if I did this job well, I will be able to retire with full benefits."
"Retire? You're awfully young for that."
"I guess you could say it's the mileage, not the years."
He grins.
"What?"
"Another nerdy reference. I'll tell you later."
He brings the conversation back. "So, you're going through a transition as well?"
"Yes, I am. For better or worse, the CIA has been my whole adult life."
"What will you do after? When this assignment is over?"
She shrugs her shoulders. "Not sure. That bridge is a ways off yet."
He nods, understandingly. "So, as far as the immediate future goes, aside from not being my girlfriend, protecting me, and maybe being a friend, what other things are you here for?"
"I'll oversee the dismantling of Castle and various other tasks. But there's one other matter, a very important one we need to take care of."
"Which is?"
"ASAP, tomorrow, hopefully, we'll, that is Casey, you and I, will meet with Ellie, Devon, and Morgan."
"Huh? What for?"
She pauses, to make sure she has his attention. "We're going to tell them what has actually been going on in your life for the last couple of years.
He stares at her, wide-eyed, seemingly incapable of words.
Finally, he manages to ask, almost disbelievingly, "No more lies?"
She nods firmly. "No more lies. Some operational matters will have to be withheld, for reasons of security. But you'll be able to tell them the rest of it."
"God, Sarah. I've wanted to tell them for so long, but I never...never thought this day would come." He shakes his head, eyes wet. "Thank you, thank you so much."
"You're welcome, Chuck. You deserve this."
He grins. "It feels like this massive load's been taken off my shoulders. To be able to tell the truth...is...liberating."
I agree.
She glances at her watch. "Chuck, it's getting late. If we're going to meet tomorrow, we should get some sleep. I've had a long day and I want to be at my best."
"Sure, Sarah. I'm tired too. It's been a big day." He pauses. "Ellie and Devon are off tomorrow. So is Morgan. And I can call in sick. Big Mike owes me quite a number of sick days. I'll arrange it. Say 10 am at my place?"
"Yes. That sounds good."
"It's a date, then." He blushes. "No, not a date. I didn't mean—"
She grins. "I understand what you meant, Chuck."
He grins back, relieved. "I just realized something. You're not the evil Terminator from the first movie, you're the good one from the second movie."
"Excuse me?"
He chuckles. "I know. Too nerdy. Another, 'explain later.'"
Lou chooses that moment to walk over.
"You guys done?"
They nod, simultaneously.
Sarah says, "Fantastic burger, Lou."
"Thank you, Sarah. I'm glad you like it here. Chuck usually comes here by himself, sometimes with Morgan. But never with a woman before."
Sarah glances his way, sees him looking down at the table.
"I guess I'm privileged."
Lou gives her a long look. "That you are."
She picks up the plates. "Meal's on the house. You two should head off to your respective beds. You both look tired."
"Thanks, Lou."
"Thank you."
...
After they exit Lou's Place, Sarah turns to him.
"You never brought Forrest here on one of you fake dates?"
"No, I didn't want to ruin it for me."
"Then why did you bring me? After you made it clear how you felt about me, her replacement?"
He squirms.
"I was angry. Frustrated. Disappointed. And I took it out on you. Without knowing you at all."
He pauses. "She used her sexuality like a…club. Blatant. Crude. And I'm ashamed that I didn't initially see that for what it was."
He hangs his head for a moment, then looks her way once more.
"However, you…you were different. I saw it right away, even though I was too angry to acknowledge it. But even as I was saying those ugly words to you, a part of me knew I was being horribly unfair…unkind. That you truly were deserving of a—"
"Second chance, Chuck?"
He grins. "Yes, Sarah. Exactly. And bringing you here was part apology, part test."
She raises an eyebrow. "Test?"
"To see if that part of me was right. To see if you…fit."
"And did I?" Say yes, please.
"Yes. You definitely did."
He changes gears. "Sarah, I said something earlier. That I wouldn't have to pretend to like you."
She flinches inwardly at the memory. "Yes, I remember. You seemed happy about that."
"Yes, I was happy.
"And I still am. Happy that I don't have to pretend."
He smiles, shyly. "I like you, Sarah."
TBC
—
A/N: Next time we meet the whole gang. One of whom who will, especially, not be very pleased to find out what's really been going on in Chuck's life. I think you can guess who that might be. Thank you for all the kind reviews.
Until next time.