A/N: I won't burden you with the reasons why this one is later than usual. Suffice to say, real life took priority.
Since there's a long time between chapters, I'm implementing a good suggestion from one reader to include important segments from the previous chapter. To serve as a reminder of where we are.
Thanks as always to my beta Michaelfmx. And to Grayroc and Zettel for their generous encouragement and suggestions.
Don't own Chuck, et al.
Enjoy!
—
SECOND CHANCES
They're standing, hand in hand, upon a small rocky outcrop, maybe twenty feet square. Behind them lies a small, but dense grove of wind twisted trees. A hundred feet below, the waves crash rhythmically onto a boulder-strewn beach. The moon is full, its reflection an irregular golden shimmer upon the water.
"I believe the only way for you to be sure is for me to tell you about myself. Who I've been. What I've done."
She looks into his eyes. "I don't want to be that person anymore. I want to speak truth. To assume the people I meet are basically good. To be open and honest with myself. And you.
But I can't do that if I'm hiding my past from you. That would be the most enormous mistruth of all."
"If you'd heard about a woman, who, under duress, was ordered to carry out actions that went against her very nature, actions that nonetheless resulted, directly and indirectly, in the saving of many lives, someone who'd put herself in harm's way again and again to help good people, what would you think of such a person?"
Chapter Nine: Moving Forward
In the light of a new day, the path through the trees, while still fraught with twists and turns, is much clearer to Sarah. Her confidence bolstered, and with the feel of his lips on hers still fresh in her mind, she takes his hand. Has little problem in leading the way through the maze as they return to her vehicle.
She's reluctant to drop his hand when they reach the car, but there's nothing for it. She can't very well ask him to crawl through the driver's door and into his seat just so she can keep on hanging on to him.
Can I?
…
After they buckle up, it comes to her that, even with all she'd revealed last night, she still hasn't informed him about Casey's hopes for a new Intersect team.
"Chuck, there's something I haven't told you."
He smiles gently at her. "That's OK. It's not as if I'm expecting you to tell me everything about your life in one night.
"We're gonna have plenty of time to learn more about each other."
He abruptly groans, smacking his palm into his forehead. "Idiot!"
She's alarmed. "What's wrong?"
"I shouldn't have said that."
"Why?"
He chuckles, a lopsided grin on his face. "It's pretty much a pop culture trope that the character who says something like that is going to die, usually quite quickly. It's basically the kiss of death."
She raises an eyebrow.
"For example, the brave Navy pilot who tells his friend that it's his last mission before the end of his tour of duty. That he'll soon be free to go back home to his wife and the child he's never seen. Of course, you know he's gonna die. Sure enough, a scene or two later, bam! He's done for."
She mildly objects, smiling. "Come on, Chuck. Not every time, surely."
"Often enough. Too often."
"Well, it's not gonna happen this time."
"No?"
Suddenly serious, she replies, "No. Not as long as I'm around."
"Promise?"
"I'd stake my life on it."
He looks at her long and hard, then slowly nods. "You know, Sarah Walker, I believe you would. Let's just hope it never comes to that."
"No, I hope it doesn't, too. But if it does, I'm ready."
For a moment she visualizes someone threatening his life.
Imagines her immediate, visceral reaction.
It seems that her face betrays her thoughts, for he earnestly remarks, "Sarah, I really, really hope I'm never on the receiving end of the look that just came across your face. If I was, I believe I would have some immediate and embarrassing personal hygiene issues, if you get my drift."
She flushes. "Sorry."
He reaches over and takes her hand. "Nothing to be sorry for."
There's a small, slightly uncomfortable silence between them. Sarah, embarrassed that her mask had slipped so easily (although, given all she'd done last night, she's not certain why). And as for Chuck, if she had to guess, he was thinking about possible scenarios where the actions foreshadowed by her look would actually be needed.
But then he cheerily says, "So, there was something else you wanted to tell me, right?"
"Yes, it's about—"
"Wait. Don't tell me. Let me have three guesses." He grins. "You know, like a game show."
That he has a good sense of humor is nothing new to her, but she's just beginning to understand how he tends to use it in awkward moments.
Like now.
She shakes her head. "I don't think you'll be able to—"
"Pleeease." He gives her what she can only describe as puppy-dog eyes.
She tries to sound annoyed, but fails. "Oh, alright."
He pauses, rubbing his chin as if thinking very deeply. "Hmmm, let me see.
"OK. I've got it."
He leans in a little closer. "You were going to tell me that your secret passion is yodeling."
She gapes. "What?!"
"You know, up in the mountains with the dirndl and the whole bit. You do know what a dirndl is, don't you?"
Patiently, she replies. "Yes, Chuck. I've been to Austria. But I'm definitely not into yodeling."
"You're sure?"
"Positive. Why would you possibly think that?"
"It's just that you give off that vibe."
"A yodeling vibe? What would that entail, exactly?"
He frowns. "Hard to define in words, but there's something so…yodelesque in your bearing."
"That's not even a real word, is it?"
"No, but it should be. And your picture could be right beside it."
Shaking her head in mock exasperation, she prompts, "Next guess."
"Give me a second."
He snaps his fingers. "When you were a little girl, you harbored a secret desire to be a member of Bananarama."
"Who or what is a Bananarama?"
"You're joking, right? Just one of the greatest girl groups of the '80s is all."
She looks at him blankly.
"Cruel Summer? Venus? I Heard a Rumor?"
"No idea what you're talking about."
She can see the surprise in his quickly schooled expression. "OK. Apparently, music is not your thing. So, that's a no on Bananarama?"
"Yes, that's a definite no. Last chance Mr. Bartowski."
"I'll need to think about this one. Gimme a minute or two." He studies her, forehead wrinkled in concentration.
She glances at her watch, taps it with her forefinger.
"Alright, alright!"
Leaning in, he says, "When you were ten, a gypsy fortune-teller told you that someday you'd meet a tall, dark, handsome stranger who would change your life. Then you came here, took a look at me, and said to yourself, 'What the heck, two out of three ain't bad. It's worth a shot.'"
He grins in self-deprecation, a personality trait that Sarah's beginning to realize runs deep in Chuck Bartowski.
You're definitely worth a shot, Chuck. Definitely.
And of course, he is handsome, just not in the slick, polished, self-aware way that Bryce was.
He'd look good in a tux.
Where did that come from?
He's waiting for her answer. Instead, she pretends to press one of the buttons on the steering wheel and lets out a loud, "Braaap!"
He jumps in his seat.
In a smarmy, gameshow-host voice, she announces, "I so sorry, Mr. Bartowski. That was an incorrect answer. What the fortune-teller actually said was that the man would be short, dark and bearded. But thank you for playing our game.
"Johnny, what parting gifts do we have for our lovely contestant?"
He looks at her, gaping, for a few seconds, then puts his head back and laughs, filling the car with his unconstrained joy.
It's possibly the happiest sound she's ever heard. It's utterly impossible for her to not join in, if not quite so uninhibited.
A good minute passes before he's able to regain his composure.
Wiping away his tears, he manages to ask, "Where the hell did that come from?"
"Probably that time I was in the hospital."
"Hospital?"
She shrugs. "A little misjudgment on my part. Got a little too close to the moving car of a businessman my dad was trying to con. Actually hurt myself. Banged up my arm. The man insisted on taking me to the hospital to make sure I was OK. My father couldn't very well say no. They kept me overnight for observation. The woman in the next bad was watching TV until late, seemed to like game shows. I guess the memory stuck, somehow.
She muses, almost to herself. "My father snuck me out in the middle of the night. He was angry with me. Not only had the con gone south, but we had to burn the identities we'd been using."
He gives her a look. Of sympathy, she thinks, but he doesn't comment.
Instead, he cheerily goes back to their previous topic. "So, the man was short, dark and bearded? Sounds like someone we know."
She shakes off the memory, appreciating his efforts to keep things light.
"Yes. The image was so powerful that, when I met Morgan, I thought for a moment he was destined to be the one."
He chuckles, shaking his head. "Damn. And I was so sure I had it right. Though, I have to say that Morg would be happy to know he was in the running, even it was for just a second or two."
"So, you're done guessing?"
He grins. "And since I'm clearly so bad at it, please tell me what it was you wanted to say."
"It's something that Casey mentioned when I first spoke with him."
She pauses, unsure how Chuck will feel about she's about to tell him.
"He believes the Intersect isn't actually gone. He feels it might be in hibernation."
Chuck replies, doubtfully, "So, he thinks it might just wake up someday? Just like that?"
He snaps his fingers.
"Yes. He wasn't certain, of course, but likes to think that, given the right circumstances and the right team to support you, it could be a difference-maker again."
He looks straight ahead, thoughtful. "Truth be told, I've wondered if it's really gone, too."
Turning her way, he adds, "You know how I feel about all the lying and all the other garbage, but there was a certain satisfaction in being able to help out."
Earnestly she replies, "And you know how I feel about your 'helping out'. It was much more than that."
He nods his thanks. "Did he say anything about what he thought it would take to get it going again?"
She shakes her head. "No. I got the impression that you'd be the only one who would know."
He shrugs his shoulders. "I don't have any idea. There hasn't been anything even close to flash for over a month now. Even when I've seen stuff that certainly would've triggered one before. If, and that's a big if, it does come back, I've got the feeling it'll take something…extraordinary to make that happen."
"I guess we can cross that bridge if and when we ever come to it."
He smiles at her.
"What?"
"You said 'we'."
It takes her a second or two to realize what he means.
She flushes. "I wouldn't let you face that all on your own, Chuck. We caused this mess in the first place. It'd only be fair for me to make sure I did all I could to help you. That's what friends do, right?"
"Exactly."
"Besides, I agree. It'll probably never happen."
"Probably, but it's comforting to know you'd be there if it did. Thank you."
Abruptly, he yawns, stretching out his long arms in front of him.
"Don't know about you, but I could really use a coffee."
Stifling her own yawn, she nods. "Sounds good."
"There's a roadside stand a couple of miles back. Turn left when you reach the highway, please."
"Gotcha."
...
He sits down in the passenger seat, juggling two large coffees. After handing her one, he takes a sip of his, close his eyes and sighs.
"Hopefully, that'll get the old neurons firing again."
Noting his fatigue, she quietly apologizes, "I'm sorry, Chuck."
"For what?" He opens his eyes and looks at her, puzzled.
"I feel bad that my tale of woe kept you up all night."
He waves it off. "Don't worry. I've pulled all-nighters dozens of times before. Most of them for nothing so worthwhile as getting to know somebody like you."
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely. I'll be fine as soon as I get this caffeine into me." He yawns again. "Which apparently can't happen soon enough."
She grins. "I think you're right."
They drink their coffees for a few minutes, sitting silently.
Until she asks, "Chuck, I just thought of something. Won't Ellie be worried where you were last night?"
"No, I texted her just after you fell asleep. However, it seems Devon, presumably with Ellie's permission, is the one who read the message and replied."
"Why would you think that?"
"You need to know something about my brother-in-law. He's very...enthusiastic and supportive...about certain…aspects of my life."
"Aspects? Which ones?"
"My health for one. Those awful colon cleansers and such."
"Uh-huh." He doesn't go on immediately.
"And?"
He blushes as he mumbles, "My love life."
She manages to keep the smile off her face as she asks, "And this was evident in the text, how?"
He turns on his phone, holds it so they can both see the screen.
The first part is simple, the message encouraging Chuck to bring Sarah over for breakfast. It's what follows that puzzles Sarah.
"What are those symbols?"
"Those, Miss Walker, are emojis. Designed to express feelings and such."
Letting out an unsure, "OK," she points. "That one…"
"Is a fist bump directed my way."
"And the two hands? Looks like praying."
"Supposed to be a high-five, but there isn't an actual symbol for that."
She looks closely. "He uses both of them a lot."
His expression is neutral. "Yeah. That's Devon for you."
"So he's…"
"Congratulating me for what he thinks went on, since we stayed out all night."
"Oh." It sinks in. "Oh!" She blushes. "So his mind always goes…"
"Yes. Pretty much."
Sarah shakes her head. "I would think that could be kind of embarrassing."
"Yes, it can be. Very much so. The first few times she stayed over, his comments made me want to go outside and shoot myself. Especially since it was all a sham and I could tell Forrest was laughing at him under her breath."
"I'm surprised Ellie lets him get away with that."
"She tries to keep him in check, but sometimes it just spills out. But he's not quite as bad as I may have led you to believe. Somehow, mister-no-brakes-on-his-mouth makes his over the top innuendo actually sound almost…innocent. Most of the time. It's almost impossible to really be mad at the guy."
She chuckles.
"Fortunately, you don't have to subject yourself to his morning-after grilling at the breakfast table." He stops. "That is, assuming you won't be joining us for breakfast." Despite the negative slant of his words, he looks and sounds hopeful that she will accept his backhanded invitation.
Her first impulse is to say no, to tell him that it would be best to maintain a degree of professional separation.
Different times.
"You know what? I think I will join you. We didn't do anything to be embarrassed about and I am hungry. And I do want to get to know both of them better, in any case. A casual breakfast would be a good place to start."
He grins. "Great. I'll text and tell them you're coming. Give Ellie a chance to prepare."
"She doesn't need to do anything special, Chuck. Whatever they're having will be fine."
He shakes his head. "Nope, that would make her feel like she's not being a good host. One thing you need to know about my sister is that she definitely likes to make guests feel special." He frowns. "Except for Forrest. The hospitality thing did kinda taper off with her."
He takes his phone. She watches as his fingers fly over the screen. Less than a minute later, he gets a reply.
He reads, chuckling as he does so. "First of all, she's very happy you're coming. Secondly, she apologizes for letting Devon reply to my message last night. She was heading to the shower when her phone pinged. She promises to keep 'her idiotic husband', her words, in check when we arrive. Lastly, she says, and I quote, 'We were going to have pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon if that's alright with Sarah?'"
"Wow! That seems like a lot. Would that be a regular breakfast?"
He snorts. "Not hardly. I suspect they were really going to have cereal, but she's going all out to impress you." He catches himself. "But please don't tell her that I said that, OK?"
She replies, grinning, "No problem. I'm a spy, remember. I'm pretty good at keeping secrets."
His answering grin fades as he looks at her thoughtfully. "I am too, Sarah. Especially when people tell me…personal things."
He pauses. "Just wanted you to know that."
Sarah abruptly realizes that she's never had even a moment's concern that he might let others know about the things she'd told him last night. In the hands of some, those candid revelations would be powerful weapons to use against her. To expose her flaws, her fitness as an agent. Even more seriously, those confessions would put her life in danger if they came to the attention of certain individuals. Individuals whose organizations had been seriously damaged by the actions of a heretofore unknown assailant.
I trust him. Have since the first moment we met. Why?
She regards him with a renewed appreciation.
I trust him because I have faith in him. And I have faith in him because I trust him.
Does that make any sense?
But then she thinks of the excess baggage she'd dumped on him, the heavy load she'd placed upon his shoulders.
Was it fair? Asking him to help carry all that?
"Chuck?"
"Yes, Sarah?"
"About last night…" She pauses.
"Yes?"
Hesitantly, she goes on, "I unloaded a lot on you. Maybe more than I should have. I'm sorry if I went too far, if I weighed you down with my...burdens. I guess…I guess I'm not used to doing stuff like that."
She sees that look of surprise pass over his face once again, as if he can't quite comprehend what she's saying.
"Sarah, that's how it works. I unload stuff on you. You unload on me. It's a two-way street."
When she doesn't immediately reply, he softly asks, "Surely, you've had other people who were willing to do that for you?"
To her shame, she realizes the answer is no.
Not her father. Never, ever, Bryce.
And not even Carina. Not really. Sure, the two of them had fun together. Had shared dangers. Groused about their jobs, the people they worked with. But their conversations had, by unspoken agreement, rarely revealed anything about their pasts. Or how they were affected by the world they lived in and the actions they were obligated to carry out in that world.
Maybe she and I felt we would weaken each other's resolve.
Or maybe we were just too cowardly to face up to it all.
She shakes her head. "No, Chuck. I haven't."
"No one? I thought you said you had Carina."
"I did…I do…sorta...I guess."
"You guess?"
"We had a…I'm not really sure what you'd call it. It wasn't a falling out…exactly."
She pauses, thinking back to that time.
"Seeing me, after my accident, saddened, but also confused her. I think she felt out of her depth. Didn't really know to handle herself around me. And I could tell she was frustrated."
"In what way?"
"That we couldn't do any of the things we used to do together. Clubbing, Dancing. But, more importantly, that she couldn't do anything to help me get back on my feet again.
"She didn't have to fix things. She just needed to be there for you."
"I know that…now. But she didn't figure it out. And I suppose I wasn't clear, even in my own mind, about what I wanted from her."
She shrugs, her voice betraying the disappointment she'd tried to put behind her. "She left after a few days. We haven't had much contact since."
Softly, he says, "I'm sorry, Sarah."
Her smile is small, chagrined. "Pretty pathetic, huh?"
"No, it's absolutely tragic. And so unfair to you. To have no one you could lean on."
He stops, sudden inspiration in his expression. He picks up his phone, spends a few seconds to find what he wants.
"I want you to listen to this. There's someone who said it much better than I ever could. Give me a second." He plays with controls on the dashboard for a few seconds. "That should do it." He pushes the play button on his phone and the music starts to play over the SUV's speakers.
At first, there are just a few, well-spaced notes on a piano, with an organ (she thinks) chiming in. A man starts humming along.
Then he sings,
"Sometimes in our lives we all have pain
We all have sorrow
But if we are wise
We know that there's always tomorrow."
"Lean on me, when you're not strong
And I'll be your friend
I'll help you carry on
For it won't be long
'Til I'm gonna need
Somebody to lean on."
She listens, closely, as the song continues, deeply affected by the lyrics. The man sings of letting pride go, of being willing to let others know that help is needed, matters she's never been very good at.
Hell, she's been truly awful at it. All of it.
One verse, towards the end, makes her feel like the singer is speaking directly to her.
"If there is a load you have to bear
That you can't carry
I'm right up the road
I'll share your load."
After an oft-repeated entreaty to call for help, the song ends, but the words still resonate in her heart.
Choking back a sob, she looks out the side window. Wipes away her a couple of stray tears.
She feels him gently place his hand on her shoulder. She turns her head to face him.
"Sarah, that's what people who care for each other do. They share their burdens. Help each other to carry them. It's what Ellie's done for me more times than I can possibly count. Morgan too. And it's what I've done for them."
He pauses. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but if the people you were close to didn't do that for you, they were pretty crappy friends."
"They weren't totally to blame. I was a pretty crappy at it myself."
"I can't speak to that time. What I can comment on is who I see now, the person I've spent time with the last couple of days."
He looks her in the eyes. "And that person is about as far from being a crappy friend as is possible."
She swallows hard. "You really believe that?"
"Absolutely."
Her eyes search his face, willing herself to accept his opinion.
You told him you would. Now do it.
Her thoughts are interrupted by his question. "Sarah, do you think that, maybe, today is your tomorrow?"
"My tomorrow?"
"Like in the song."
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"Your life in D.C. was pretty awful. Is that a fair assessment?
"Yes, it is. I was dying back there. Slowly, painfully. Without really realizing what was happening to me. I hid myself away in a tiny office in the basement of Langley. People saw me. Men made a point of coming to see me. But nobody saw me, you know what I mean?"
"Yeah, I think I do. All those years behind the Nerd Herd counter has a tendency to make one blend into the woodwork. To most of the world I was simply a generic, tall computer nerd. Only those close to me saw more."
"But I had no one close, especially after Carina left."
"I know, and that's why I believe this is your tomorrow. You've already made one new friend." He points at himself. "Me. And like I said, I'm only the first of what I'm sure will be a long line of people wanting to be Sarah Walker's friends."
She shakes her head in amazement. "You really believe that, don't you?"
His reply is enthusiastic, heartfelt. "If you show them only a tenth of what you've shown me, people will be falling all over themselves to join the line."
"I think you're a little biased, Chuck."
"Nope. Not a chance. And you know what else? I think your fake business won't be fake for very long."
"How so?"
"Well, as to the fitness part, you clearly got that down pat." This time he holds her gaze. None of the shy turning away he'd done last night.
"And?"
"You clearly know how to take care of yourself. The self-defense stuff would be a snap for you."
"How do you know? You've never seen me in action."
"No, but I've seen Forrest in action, and, despite her many faults, she was pretty good at holding her own in a fight. You told me you were just about ready to kick her butt, so I figure that means you're even better."
"But I didn't actually do it. Maybe she's better than me."
He snorts. "Come on, do you really believe that?"
"Well, no, but it wasn't put to the test."
"Sarah, I have every confidence you would've come out on top."
He pauses. "When I was kidding you about the yodeling thing, I said I saw it in your bearing. The truth is your bearing actually conveys the impression of…focused power, quickness. You have an economy of movement, a grace in the way you carry yourself. Like a dancer.
"Forrest, on the other hand, conveyed nothing but brute force. Sure, there's raw power there, but I doubt you'd ever let her get into a position where she could use it."
Sarah covers her pleasure at his praise with a quick laugh. "That's pretty articulate, Mr. Bartowski. Especially for seven in the morning."
He shrugs. "The caffeine finally kicked in, I guess."
Her stomach chooses that moment to growl. Loudly.
He looks at her and grins. "Speaking of articulate, that was a pretty good way of saying it's time for some food. I'll text and tell them we're on the way."
…
As they enter the courtyard, Chuck inclines his head toward the apartment across the way.
"When do you move in?"
"A few days. They're painting today and tomorrow."
"Need any help with your stuff?"
She shakes her head. "Thanks, but I've only got the one suitcase right now. They'll ship my personal things form D.C. today, but they'll be delivered right here. So I won't need much help."
"Furniture?"
"Glad you reminded me. Do you think Ellie would mind helping me choose what would work? I have pretty much zero experience in that area."
"How come?"
"My apartment in D.C. came furnished. Standard issue. I have no idea what style it was, assuming there even was one."
"But here is different?"
"Yes. Did I tell you that I'm paying the rent myself? And buying my own furniture?"
"No. I thought they gave you an allowance for that kind of stuff."
"They do, Chuck. But I wanted this to be my place. My home. Not the CIA's idea of what is appropriate. Like Maison 23."
He shudders a bit. "Can't say I'm sorry to say goodbye to that green hellhole."
"Then you'll be happy to hear that there's to be no significant amount of green in my new place."
"That's good.
"And I quite sure Ellie would be very willing to help. Just make sure you tell her about your aversion to green."
"I will."
As they stop in front of Ellie's apartment, Sarah suddenly feels a little apprehensive. It seems he notices, for he asks, "You OK?"
"Yeah. Just…nervous, I guess."
"Why?"
"Ellie's your sister, Chuck. The most important person in your life. If this whole thing is going to work, I need to make a good impression on her."
He laughs quietly. "Sarah, you've already done that. You shoulda heard her after our meeting yesterday morning. It was Sarah this and Sarah that. After she'd finished thoroughly chewing me out, that is."
"But she was so cold to me at first."
"Yeah, she was. But my sister appreciates honesty. And you were honest with her. That goes a long way in her books. And, in the end, she did hug you, remember that. That's a good sign."
Sarah takes heart from his words, but still feels uncertain. Again, he notices.
"Look, inviting you over for breakfast is also a good sign. And there'll be other ones to watch for as well."
"Such as?"
"First of all, if she likes you, she'll be wearing her second-best pajamas. Pale yellow ones. Not the flannel ones she usually wears. She wouldn't want you to think she's a slob. But she won't be wearing her fancy silk ones, either. Wouldn't want you to think she's pretentious."
She stares at him. "You're always that observant?"
He shrugs. "We've lived together for a long time. Besides, the silk ones are her way of telling me that I should make myself scarce for a few hours."
"Gotcha."
"Second, watch what plates and stuff she uses. If it's the set with the fancy little flowers, you know you're in her good books. She only brings that out for special occasions. She only used the plain set with Forrest.
"Thirdly, if she offers to cook the type of eggs you like as opposed to just making scrambled and being done with it. Same for the toast.
"Fourthly, watch for a genuine smile when she opens the door. And probably a hug. She'll take you by the arm and lead you to the table, basically ignoring me all the while."
She looks at him, mildly astonished. "You really do pay attention, don't you?"
"Like I said, I've lived with her for a long time."
He inclines his head toward the door. "You ready?"
She nods, still apprehensive, despite his reassurances. "As I'll ever be."
He reaches over to take her hand. Immediately, a calm settles on her. Her nervousness vanishes.
How does he do that to me?
He brings his mouth close to her ear, whispers, "Lean on me, Sarah. I'll never leave you in the lurch."
She feels a tingle go down her spine.
Was that a promise?
She looks at him, but he's turned his face to the door, so she can't read his expression as well as she would like.
He knocks. A few seconds later, the door opens to reveal Ellie, in pale yellow pajamas. She has a smile on her face, one that clearly reaches her eyes. But when she glances down to their intertwined fingers, her smile becomes even bigger, to the point that Sarah wonders if it might actually hurt a little.
She smiles back, as Ellie steps forward, gives Sarah a quick hug. "Sarah, it's so nice you could join us."
She then takes Sarah gently by her free hand and leads her into the apartment. Chuck trails in after them, still holding Sarah's hand.
"Breakfast is almost ready, but I wasn't sure what kind of eggs you'd like."
Sarah glances over her shoulder, sees Chuck smirking as he follows them in, comically pretending that he's being dragged along.
She shoots him a look, but he appears to be completely unfazed by it.
"Scrambled will be fine, Ellie. Thank you."
"Good, I'll get right on it."
They reach the table. "Please sit, Sarah. Devon and I will be out with the food a few moments. Coffee?"
"Yes, please."
"How do you take it?"
Before Sarah can answer, Chuck pipes up. "Black."
Ellie glances over at her brother, seeming to notice him for the first time.
Turning to Chuck, Ellie says, "Glad you're paying attention, little brother." She addresses Sarah again, "You know, it took him quite a while before he learned the way I like my coffee. Seems he had some incentive to learn more quickly this time."
With that, she turns toward the kitchen. "I'll be right back."
Sarah turns to Chuck, who picks up a plate, points to the small flower design. He smirks again. She kicks him under the table, just hard enough to get his attention
He mouths an exaggerated, "Ow!"
She mouths back, doing her best to stop from grinning, "Stop it!"
From the kitchen, Ellie asks, "Sarah, I forgot to ask what kind of toast you'd like. Sourdough or rye?"
"Sourdough, please, Ellie."
When Sarah returns her attention to Chuck, she notices he's slid his chair out of range. He's sitting all prim and proper, looking around the room with an innocent expression on his face.
She mock glares at him. He pays no attention to that. But he does move his chair back beside her. She reaches under the table, and, without conscious thought, places her hand on his thigh. He glances at her, then places his own hand on hers.
Devon approaches the table, carrying a large pitcher of orange juice.
"Good morning, Sarah. It's so nice you could join us for breakfast. I trust the two of you had a pleasant evening, doing whatever…you did…do."
Even to Sarah, who's only known the man for a few hours, the speech sounds stilted, unnatural.
Chuck picks up on it. Quietly asks, "You OK, Devon?"
"Yes, I'm fine—" He stops himself, leans closer and whispers, "Ellie told me I had to behave myself. That if I frightened Sarah off, she'd cut me off so quickly my head would spin.
He swipes his forehead with his free hand. "Your sister is one scary woman, bro."
"Awesome, you knew that going in."
"Yeah, you're right. Part of what I love about her.' Pause. "I guess."
Sarah, who had managed to hold in her smile during this whole conversation, adds her own whisper. "Don't worry, Devon. I don't scare that easily."
He nods. "No, I guess you wouldn't, being a spy and all."
Ellie's voice from the kitchen ends their quiet interchange. "Devon, the food's ready. Could you help me, please?"
He turns his head, booms out, "Sure thing, babe." He plunks the pitcher down on the table.
He murmurs, "Please don't tell her what I said." Then he quickly walks to the kitchen.
Chuck leans in, says, under his breath, grinning, "I believe my sister is the only thing in this whole wide world that frightens him."
…
"Ellie, these pancakes are fantastic!"
The brunette doctor looks very pleased with the compliment.
"Thank you, Sarah. It's a…family recipe that I've worked hard, for quite some time, to perfect. It's important to be able to have good pancakes when you want them." She looks at her brother. "Right, Chuck?"
"Yeah, sis, it is." He sounds solemn.
Sarah sees the silent communication between the two, senses there's some sort of backstory here, but doesn't pry. Instead, she cheerily says, "Well, these are as close to perfect as I've ever had."
Ellie smiles, looks closely at Sarah. Seems to come to a decision. "I can give you the recipe if you'd like."
Chuck arm stops moving, his loaded fork halfway to his mouth. He looks back and forth between the two women, appears a little shocked.
"Ellie, you'd do that for Sarah?"
"Yes, Chuck. I believe I would."
Chuck looks at Sarah, gives her a look, trying to speak with his eyes. She's not sure what's going on here, but somehow it's become important to answer correctly.
She chooses her words carefully. "That's very kind of you, Ellie. But I'm not much of a cook. Perhaps you could teach me how to make these?" She gestures to the short stack on her plate.
"I'd be happy to. Just tell me when."
"Maybe after I've moved into the building?"
"Sounds good."
Chuck looks relieved, starts eating once again.
Somewhat puzzled, Sarah also returns to her food.
…
"…and that was the first time we ever laid eyes on one another. The rest, as they say, is history."
They all laugh at Devon's spirited tale of his and Ellie's early days.
"So, Ellie, was it love at first sight?"
"Not a chance, Sarah. Sure, he was good-looking, but he came across as this spoiled California surfing dude. Definitely not my type."
Devon jumps in, smiling. "But I wore you down, didn't I babe?"
Ellie smiles fondly at her husband. "Yeah, you did. It's when I came to know the mind inside that body that things began to change."
"Man, did they ever. There was this time—"
Ellie clears her throat. "Hh-hmmm."
Devon stops. "Right. Private stuff."
Ellie shifts her gaze, looks over the top of her cup. "So, Sarah, I assume the two of you went to Chuck's secret place last night?"
Chuck, having just taken a sip of his coffee, splutters, starts to choke a bit. Sarah leans closer and pats him on the back. Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah catches a speculative look as it passes across Ellie's face
Sarah asks, a little anxiously, "You OK, Chuck?"
It takes a few seconds before he's able to speak.
"Yeah, I'm fine. You know about that, sis?"
"Relax, Chuck. I don't know where it is, just know that you have one."
She looks at Sarah. "When he was thirteen or so, he found this special place down on a beach somewhere in Malibu. He'd go there to be alone."
Sarah doesn't acknowledge she already knew about that, just nods to show she's following.
Chuck gapes at his sister, shakes his head in wonder. "How?"
"You used to just...disappear, from time to time. No one knew where you'd go, not even Morgan. But one day, when I was tidying your room, I came across a folder of bus timetables. You'd underlined the ones you'd need to get to Malibu. That, and the sand you'd wind up leaving on the doormat gave me a pretty good clue.
"You never mentioned it, Ellie."
"Chuck, you didn't need to have me mothering you all the time and I didn't mind a break from the responsibility. It gave both of us a chance to recharge our batteries."
His reply is thoughtful. "I suppose it did." He pauses. "But you should know I don't go there anymore."
Ellie shakes her head. "I didn't think you did. I noticed that shortly after…she…forced her way into our lives, the sand you used to track in pretty much stopped. But you'd still disappear from time to time, especially when I could tell you were stressed out or unhappy. Which, in light of what I found out only yesterday," she pauses to briefly glower at her brother, "wasn't nearly so often as it could've, or maybe, should've, been.
"Anyway, you were always, at least a little bit, better the morning after your secret jaunts. So, I figured you'd found some other place to get away from it all."
"You'd make a good detective, sis."
"Just know you well, little brother."
"So how did you figure out where Sarah and I had gone last night?"
"At first, I wasn't sure. But when I saw you at the door this morning, I could tell the two of you had this…connection."
Devon opens his mouth to speak, but Ellie sternly cuts him off. "Not a word, Devon. You promised."
He closes his mouth. Grins sheepishly.
Ellie rolls her eyes at her husband, then turns her attention back to Chuck and Sarah. "You were holding hands when you walked in. And, if I'm not mistaken, you had a bit of Sarah's shade of lipstick on the corner of your mouth."
Chuck takes his napkin and quickly dabs at his mouth.
Ellie chuckles. "Don't worry, Chuck. It got wiped off earlier, along with the copious amount of maple syrup you'd somehow managed to get all over your face."
He hangs his head, while the rest of them laugh.
Ellie continues, "As I was saying, there were lots of things that gave you away. You knowing how Sarah took her coffee. How you made sure Sarah got the best slices of the bacon. Her reaction when she thought you were choking. The fact that you've been sitting so close, holding hands under the table almost the entire time. "
"How did figure that out Ellie?"
"It's not rocket science, Chuck. You usually don't eat one-handed. Today you did."
"Like I said, a good detective."
"Then I realized what had happened. You guys had 'The Night', you know, when two people really get to know each other.
"Since you weren't here, and I doubted you would want to go anywhere that reminded you of her, there had to be someplace else. And what better place than where you used to go to be alone?
"And before you say anything, Chuck, I'm not upset you took Sarah there. There are certain things you only share with certain people." She looks at the blonde spy. "Special people."
Sarah blushes, looks down at her empty plate. Chuck lets out an exaggerated yawn, one that neatly shifts the attention away from her.
"If it's OK with you, I think I better hit the sack. Didn't get much sleep last night."
Before Devon can even start, Ellie holds up her finger. "No!"
"But—"
"Still no."
Sarah grins, then says, "I'm a little tired, too. Best if I get some rest. Can I call you later, Ellie?"
"I'd like that. I'm off until tomorrow."
They all rise from the table and walk towards the front door.
Sarah shakes Devon's hand. Then turns to Ellie. In a moment of boldness, Sarah dispenses with the handshake and moves in for a quick hug. Ellie looks surprised, then pleased.
"Thank you both for such a wonderful breakfast. I hope this isn't the usual fare. If it is, I'm gonna get fat."
"Don't worry, Sarah. I doubt that'll ever happen. Chuck, could you please see Sarah out? Devon and I will clean up."
"Sure thing."
They walk to the door, which Chuck opens for her and then follows her out into the courtyard, closing the door behind him.
She turns to him. "Thank you, Chuck. That was a wonderful end to…I'm not sure what to call last night. Amazing doesn't seem to fit or convey how important it all was to me.
"Thank you for listening. For your encouragement." She shakes her head. "I don't know what I did to deserve all of that."
"You were just yourself, Sarah. That's all it took. Just keep doing that and everyone's gonna rush to your side."
The thought thrills and frightens her at the same time.
"It's a little scary."
"Hey, don't worry. If you want, I'll be the gatekeeper. Just to make sure you're not overwhelmed with undesirables."
"You'd do that?"
"Suuuure. I'll start with Jeff and Lester. You'll definitely want to keep them at a safe distance."
"Scraggly blonde hair and dark long-haired?"
"Yes. You've met them?"
"No, just saw Morgan chasing them away from you on the day I went into the Buy More."
"Morgan's a good friend. He always looks out for me. He'll do the same for you once he gets to know you."
"He will?"
"Absolutely.
It's a new world, Sarah.
"Chuck, there's one thing I'm curious about. But feel free not to answer if it's too personal."
"What was that?"
"The whole pancake incident. There was something going on there, between you and Ellie."
He hesitates.
"Like I said, if it's too personal…"
"No, I don't mind telling you.'
He takes a deep breath. "The day our father walked out, for good, he promised us pancakes. He went to the store to get what was needed, but never came back.
"When Ellie or I promise we're going to have pancakes, we always do. To that end, we always make sure we have the ingredients on hand. I guess pancakes have become a symbol that we can take care of ourselves. And that we keep our word."
Sarah, looking up at him, seeing the unforgotten sadness in his eyes, has to blink hard to hold back her tears.
But then he cheers up. "The good part, Sarah, is that Ellie offered you the recipe. Do you know how significant that was?"
"No, why?"
"Only three people in this world have that recipe. Her, Devon and me. She's admitting you to a very elite club. If you had even the slightest doubt that she likes you, that answers the question."
Abruptly, he lets out a huge yawn. "I really do need some sleep. Talk to you later?"
As Sarah looks up at him, seeing the fatigue in his beautiful brown eyes, his slumped shoulders, she remembers what brought it on his exhaustion, and it suddenly comes to her that last night was of a more intimate nature than any night she'd ever spent with Bryce.
Sure, she'd been with Bryce more times than she could recall, but she'd never felt what she feels toward this gentle, kind man standing before her.
With Bryce, she'd hoped the physical intimacy would, at some point, lead to intimacy of another, deeper kind. The sharing of heart and mind.
But it never happened.
She'd tried, at first, to establish that deeper connection with him. As they'd lain together, she'd made attempts to discuss the emotional demands of their jobs. How they felt about what they were doing. But he'd always found a way to change the subject. Most often, by using his hands and lips to distract her.
In fairness, it wasn't all his fault. She'd given up rather quickly, had resigned herself to the way things were. But the question of whether she would ever find anything more had never truly left her mind.
But last night, Chuck Bartowski had answered her question in the affirmative. And, even though all they've done physically is share a couple of relatively chaste kisses and hold hands, she feels far closer to him than she ever did to Bryce.
And I'll never forget how he held me all through the night.
Do you love him?
Her inner voice shocks her.
Love? It's much too soon to be using that word.
Isn't it?
She rolls the word around in her mind.
Or is it?
Sarah, you were drawn to him even before you met him, weren't you? Spending time with him only confirmed that you cared for him, didn't it?
Yes. But how does he feel about me?
It's clear he's waiting for a response from her
"Chuck?"
"Yes, Sarah?"
"You've used the word friend a lot in the last couple of days. And I'm so grateful that you consider me to be your friend and that you are mine. But..."
"But, what?"
Taking a deep breath, she asks, hesitantly, "Do you think you could ever see us being more than just friends?"
"Like boyfriend and girlfriend?"
She nods, shyly, afraid to look him in the eyes.
He takes her hands in his. "Sarah." She looks up, sees him looking so intently at her.
"There's nothing on this earth I could want more."
She stares at him, his smile so bright it almost hurts to look at.
"Then all this talk about friendship was..."
"No, no. I meant every word. I wanted to be your friend from the first time I saw you."
He gently strokes the tops of hands with his thumbs. "I wanted more, but I'm just this schmuck who works at the Buy More. And I don't even have the Intersect anymore. To put it mildly, I wasn't overly confident that someone like you could care that way for someone like me. But I thought I could at least be your friend. And if I could do that, maybe someday you could grow to care for me."
She chides him gently, a burgeoning smile on her face. "You adorable idiot! I was the one thinking that I wasn't good enough for you. That, after all I'd told you, you might, just might stick by me as a friend, but you could never see yourself committing to someone who's led my kind of life."
He chuckles ruefully. "It appears we may need to work on our communication skills."
"It does."
He grins at her. "So, girlfriend Sarah, do we tell everyone about this momentous event?"
She grins back. "Well, boyfriend Chuck, I'm pretty sure Ellie's already figured it out. No harm in letting Devon and Morgan in on it. The rest of the world can go ahead and draw their own conclusions."
"Sounds good to me. Would you like to go on a date tonight? Our first as boyfriend and girlfriend?"
She softly replies. "Yes, I'd like that. Very much."
He nods as he looks around them. "It seems we've been caught without champagne once again.
"Oh, well..."
He drops her hands, moves quickly to take her in his arms. His left hand is on her lower back, the other entangled in her hair. She wonders how his embrace can be so gentle and yet so firm at the same time,
She only has a second to ponder this, because suddenly he's kissing her with every bit of energy in his body. Despite his fervor, his lips are soft, not demanding, waiting for her to respond.
Which she does, throwing her arms around his neck, drawing him close, very close. She parts her lips, invitingly. Which he picks up on very quickly.
Years of loneliness and misery are swept away by the passionate promise of his kiss. And, although she has no way of knowing for sure, she's fairly certain her kiss has done the same for him.
A new start for them both.
Many seconds pass before they bring the kiss to a reluctant conclusion, both breathing heavily, their foreheads touching.
She tilts her head back a little so can look in his eyes, then quietly but firmly says, "Chuck Bartowski, I believe I'm falling in love with you."
"And I with you, Sarah Walker."
Even though he does his best to stifle it, a sudden yawn escapes him. He's embarrassed. "I'm so sorry. Kissing you should've completely banished any thought of tiredness."
"Don't worry about it. After all, it was my fault that you got no sleep last night."
"Still."
"Please don't even think about it." She grabs him by the shoulders, turns him so he's facing the door.
"Now, go in there and get some sleep. I'll see you this evening." She gives him a little shove.
He opens the door and, after one more long look her way, closes it behind him.
She turns toward the archway, but before she takes more than a dozen steps, she hears Casey's voice quietly calling her from the door of his apartment.
"Walker, could you come in for a minute? Something I need to show you." He sounds serious.
"Sure."
With the memory of their kiss still so fresh in her mind, the last thing she wants to is get bogged down with are security protocols or other such mundane matters. Nevertheless, she follows him into his place, shuts the door behind her. He sits down at his table, in front of a computer monitor.
"What is it, Casey?"
He turns the monitor her way. "You know this guy?
The man pictured is handsome, with dark hair parted on the right. Dark eyebrows and eyes.
Sarah shakes her head. "No, I don't think so."
"You sure? He's one of your guys."
"An agent?"
"Yes. Take a look again."
Casey waits patiently as she studies the photo again.
"Hang on. I met him once, briefly, almost a year ago. He came down to the little office I was working out of. He asked me out for a drink. Wasn't interested, so I turned him down."
"That's it? No other interaction?"
"No. What's going on?"
"Last night he," Casey points to the monitor, "went off the reservation. Somehow managed to get his hands on some of Graham's archived personal files. Left a couple of bodies in his wake."
Sarah shakes her head in confusion. "What's this got to do with me?"
"He only took three files."
It starts to click.
"Mine?"
"Yeah, and two others. All of you were Graham's personal enforcers at one time."
She ponders his words. "So they figure he's coming after the three of us?"
"Well, you don't leave bodies lying around if you're not serious. But I've got a hunch he narrowed it down to you three. He needed the files to be sure which one of you he's really after."
"Narrowed what down?"
He shakes his head. "Don't know. Some mission he had some stake in." He pauses. "Maybe someone you took out was somehow connected to him?"
A sudden chill settles over her, but she doesn't let Casey see it. Instead, she shrugs. "No idea. It's possible, I guess."
They're both silent for a few moments.
"And you're sure you don't know of any other link to him?"
She's exasperated. Growls, "Already told you I didn't."
He holds his hands up. "OK. Sorry, I asked. There's an interagency BOLO out on him. There's one chance in three that he's heading our way.
"Just wanted to make sure you watch your back."
"Sorry, Casey. Thanks for the heads up."
"I expect all this will be on your secure laptop when you get back to Maison 23."
"I'm sure it will. I'll go over it there."
She looks at the monitor again.
"Does this guy have a name?"
"Yeah. Goes by Daniel Shaw."
TBC
—
A/N: Oh no! I know what you're thinking. The 2x4 is about to make his appearance. You're right, but have no fear. Things will work out.
Thanks to all you kind readers who've taken the time and effort to review this story. Encouragement of that sort is critical to those of us who write for this site. Please keep those reviews coming.