A/N: We're nearing the end.
Thanks as always to michaelfmx for his hard work. And to Zettel and Grayroc for letting me bounce my ideas off of them.
Don't own Chuck, et al.
Slight errors in the last section of this chapter. Now corrected
—
SECOND CHANCES
Carina shakes her head, disbelievingly. "Sarah Walker in love. Who'd a thunk it?"
"Not me. I never expected this to happen. Never expected to find me here."
"So, Jill Roberts. Guess I've had worse names. Seems kinda bland, though. What's she like?"
"No real idea. Chuck will fill you in tonight. And we'll sort out how you'll approach him at the Buy More."
Part one accomplished.
Now to find Shaw
Chapter Thirteen: Confrontation
She sees nothing but her death in the man's dark eyes.
This would have been..easier…if I hadn't met Chuck. If I hadn't let his smile, his boyish enthusiasm, his belief in me, convince me that I actually had a second chance. A chance for a home, a family…a life.
A momentary bitterness wells up in her heart.
I was deluding myself. People like me never get the happy ending.
This. Facing the wrong end of a silenced pistol. This, or something like it, had always been the inevitability. The price you knew you'd pay someday. For who you were, for what you've done.
To think, to believe, otherwise, was the height of foolishness.
Stop. You're wrong. He gave you everything. He gave you hope.
He gave you love.
Her bitter self-recriminations vanish.
Thank you, Chuck. Thank you for giving me the best days of my life.
She feels her unshed tears, but they're not for herself, but rather for the man she'd come to love, so dearly, so quickly.
This will kill him.
As her executioner raises his pistol, it's not her past life that flashes before her eyes.
No, it's a vision of what might've been. A future she'll never have.
As his trigger finger begins to move, she tenses herself, knowing in her heart it's hopeless.
An ineffable sadness threatens to overwhelm her, to take from her any will to resist.
But she pushes it aside.
I have to try.
…..
Earlier.
Sarah's pouring herself a cup of coffee when Casey rumbles, "They're back."
Walking over to the monitors, she sees Chuck and Carina walk into the courtyard, hand in hand. Even though she knows it just part of the act, she feels a little twinge of jealousy.
They go into Ellie's apartment.
After their conference last night, it was agreed that Carina would stay over at Ellie's, while Sarah and Casey stood watch at the Major's place. This morning she'd barely had a chance to say hello to Chuck before heading out to the Buy More to be in place for Carina's scene.
She feels…odd. Bereft.
I miss him. Miss being close to him.
She takes herself to task. Get a hold of yourself. It's only been a few hours.
But as hard as she tries, she can't push the feeling away.
She tries to sound casual, but suspects her voice betrays her. "I'll go over and relieve Carina. I'll send her back here."
Casey, stone-faced, simply replies, "Sounds good."
She walks over to Ellie's, is about to knock, when Carina opens the door.
"Afternoon, Sarah," she smirks. "So, how'd I do?"
"You were good, Carina. Damned good."
She takes a little bow. "Thank you. No surprise there."
Sarah just shakes her head. She and Casey had returned directly to Echo Park after the little show, so she asks, "How did the rest of it go?"
"As we planned. After a long lunch, I took him back to that hell hole he works at. Chuck introduced me to his workmates, strongly implied we were considering getting back together. I told his boss that we needed some time, so, please, pretty please, could Chuck take the rest of the day off? And tomorrow? He agreed and I brought Chuck back here."
"Thanks, Carina. I overheard a couple of his workmates talking the whole thing over. They seemed to have bought it."
Sarah can't resist the jibe. "However, a couple of the guys also seemed to think you were 'sexually-repressed', so I'm not so sure their observations have any value."
"Damn. I guess I was even better than I thought." Carina raises an eyebrow. "Who was it? The spaced-out dude with the frizzy hair and his short, sleazy companion?"
"You noticed them?"
"Couldn't help it. They seemed especially anxious to make my acquaintance. Like all men."
She sighs, dramatically, the back of her hand held theatrically to her forehead. "It's just the burden I have to bear."
Sarah chuckles. "Well, you can head over to Casey's and bear it there. But no other baring. Got that?"
Carina huffs. "Of course. We're on duty." She opens the door wider, gestures for Sarah to come in. "I'll leave Chuck to you, then. He's in his bedroom."
She smirks as she fires her Parthian shot. "I trust you'll remember you're on duty too, Sarah."
Sarah feels the blush in her cheeks. Carina just laughs and walks away.
…
Shutting and locking the door behind her, Sarah quickly goes down the hallway to Chuck's room.
He's working on his computer, his fingers flying over the keyboard. She figures he's trying to track down Shaw, but she has no real idea what he's actually doing. Just sees windows, some containing text and others with video, opening and closing with bewildering rapidity.
"Hey."
He looks over shoulder, smiles. The smile that, she's beginning to suspect, is for her and her alone.
"Hey, yourself."
She walks over, gently places her hands on his shoulders.
"Whatcha doin'?"
He sighs as he turns back to the monitor. "Looking for Shaw, but not having much luck."
She can feel the tenseness in his shoulder muscles. Without conscious thought, she starts to massage them. He immediately relaxes.
"Any developments on your end?"
"No, no signs. Nothing suspicious. We did have a brief power failure about half an hour ago. Only lasted about thirty seconds. But we lost our cameras, so we checked the perimeter. Didn't find anything. We looked into it and found out that a circuit breaker at the Magnolia Power Plant was defective. Just an accident."
"OK, that's good." He starts typing again.
"Chuck, may I ask you something? If it wouldn't distract you too much."
He swivels his chair to face to face her. "It's OK. Not getting anywhere right now anyway."
"I'm a little curious. You did a great job with Carina this morning. But you seemed to be genuinely angry and disappointed with our ersatz 'Jill"."
He scratches the back of his head, a little sheepish. "You noticed, did you?" She nods. "Truth is, I was angry. And disappointed.
"Seeing Carina standing in front of me, pretty much channeling Jill, brought back a bad time in my life. After she betrayed me, I used to think about what I'd do if I ever saw her again. I'd lie awake at night, going over in my mind what I would say.
"And today I had the chance to actually say something. To get it off my chest."
"I was wondering about that. So this was a little bit real for you."
"Yeah, even though it was just role-playing, it felt good. Liberating."
"I'm happy to hear that. But I will say this, if you were really upset, you didn't show it. You were actually quite kind and patient."
He chuckles ruefully. "Trust me, that wasn't the original mental draft. There were quite a number of expletives and a lot less forgiveness in that one."
She smiles at him. "Chuck, may I say something?"
"Of course."
"I don't believe you would've ever used that 'mental draft', regardless of how upset you were."
"You haven't seen me when I'm really angry."
"You forget. Remember when I walked into the Buy More?"
He looks even more sheepish this time. "Oh, I guess I did. It seems like such a long time ago."
"In some ways, it was. A lot's happened since then."
"A lot of good things, Sarah."
She nods, smiling. "I agree. But the point I was trying to make is this. Even though you were angry and frustrated, you restrained yourself, didn't resort to 'expletives'. And you apologized almost immediately afterward.
"It's not in your nature to be vindictive or cruel. Saying what you did to Carina, forgiving 'Jill', that's the real you."
"You think so?"
"Uh-uh. I noticed it almost immediately. It's a part, a big part, of what attracted me to you."
He ponders a moment or two. "Sometimes I've wondered if my being that way was a kind of...character fault. In high school, even at Stanford, I got the distinct feeling that others felt that made me...weak. That I wasn't aggressive enough."
She feels her anger flare, but she keeps her voice calm, as she firmly states, "Anyone who thought that was an idiot. It's what makes you strong. Turning away from conflict, being a peacemaker, takes far more courage than letting your passions rule."
Visibly moved by her praise, he quietly replies, "Thank you, Sarah. That means a lot to me."
"Simple truth, Chuck, but you're welcome."
Just then there's a beep from his computer. He swivels his chair around and studies the monitor.
"Any luck?
He shakes his head. "False alarm. Nothing since we caught a glimpse of what might have been his rental car passing by that bank machine camera in Pocatello."
He looks over his shoulder, his frustration evident. After Chuck's program had tracked Shaw to Idaho Falls, they'd been hopeful that he'd be apprehended long before he became a threat.
However, after that encouraging beginning, they'd had no success.
"Why haven't they caught him, Sarah? There's a nationwide BOLO. And we gave the LEOs in Idaho all the information they should've needed. Car, license plate, probable direction of travel."
"He's a good agent, Chuck. Very clever. We're well trained on how to successfully evade the local authorities. And that in countries with much more video surveillance than we have here."
He turns back to his computer. "Still, they should've picked him up." He slams his hand on the desktop. "I feel helpless. I don't know what else I can do."
"Hey, it's OK. You've done so much already."
He snorts. "Yeah. Sure."
"Stop right there. You were the only one to figure out what Shaw was about, why he's coming after me. What Eve had done."
"It wasn't me." He swivels his chair around and taps his temple. "It was this damn thing that did the work."
"That's a load of bunk if I've ever heard one. You're the one who had to find a way past all the security measures. You're the one who dug deep and found the important files, the ones you did flash on. The Intersect didn't help you get there. It only kicked in after you, Chuck Bartowski, did all the hard work. You're the one who put all of that together."
"You really think so?"
"No, I know so. The only people who should be beating themselves up are those who let him get to Graham's files in the first place."
And me for not standing up and saying no. Long before it came down to my Red test.
He smiles, reassured by her words.
"Thank you. Again."
Sarah's suddenly struck by the realization that, somehow, without her even being consciously aware of it, she's slipped into the role of his comforter. A protector of not only his body, but his heart as well.
She's puzzled. It all happened so…seamlessly. Almost as if, within her, there'd been a different person waiting to make an appearance. An empathetic one. A sympathetic one.
That isn't me.
Or is it?
That night at Lou's, she watched him closely, She'd seen his distress, his despair, as he spoke of how they'd taken away any chance he'd had to lead something approaching a normal life. Forced him to deceive everyone he cared for.
Naturally, my heart went out to him.
Naturally?
Then it hits her. Of course. To be a comforter, you have to have someone to comfort. Someone with enough courage to admit, by word or deed, that they need consolation.
Someone strong enough to admit they are weak.
Chuck.
None of the people in her life prior to him had been willing or, perhaps more accurately, been able to display such courage. So this empathic, sympathetic Sarah had, perforce, lain dormant while she'd led a life that actively discouraged the display of such tender emotions.
Lean on me, when you're not strong
And I'll be your friend
She feels an almost overwhelming surge of gratitude for this man looking up at her.
Earnestly she tells him, "No, Chuck, it's you who deserves the thanks. Which, by the way, I haven't properly done yet." She leans in quickly, softly kisses him on the lips. "Thank you."
He takes her hand and looks up into her eyes as he solemnly replies, "I would do anything for you, Sarah."
He repeats, "Anything."
She hears the promise of his words, sees it in his expression. She feels the warmth spread to her heart.
Not anything, Chuck. I will not let you lose yourself to save me. I can't.
She knows she shouldn't, given all that's going on right now, but she quickly turns and sits crosswise in his lap. He's clearly surprised by her action. Before he can further react, she takes his face in her hands and kisses him again, but much more thoroughly this time. It takes a second or two for him to respond, wrapping his arms around her, drawing her close.
After much too short a time, she forces herself to pull back just a little. Waits for him to open his eyes. Which he does slowly, dreamily.
"That was nice. Very nice."
"Yes, it was."
She hesitates, unsure how he'll take what she has to say. "Chuck, I need you to promise me something."
"Anything, Sarah."
"I appreciate that, but you need to listen to what I'm going to ask before you agree."
It appears he's about to object, but then nods. "OK."
"No matter what happens over the next few days, I need you to promise me that you won't put yourself at risk."
"What do you mean?"
"You have to keep in mind that Casey, Carina and myself are trained agents. We know how to handle dangerous situations. Perhaps one of us may be in some sort of danger in the next day or two. If you see that, or even think it, I'll need you to stay put and let us handle matters.."
"Sarah, I've faced some pretty dangerous—"
She gently cuts him off. "I know what you're going to say, but despite all of your..on the job training… during the last couple of years, you're not really trained. Considering the circumstances, it's an absolute miracle that you weren't seriously hurt...or worse...during the last couple of years."
She kisses him briefly. "A miracle I'm eternally grateful for."
"Trust me. I'm pretty grateful myself." He smiles. "Otherwise, I wouldn't be holding the amazing Sarah Walker on my lap."
She feels the heat in her cheeks, is tempted, once again, by his lips so close to hers.
But duty calls. She stands.
"There's one more thing, Chuck.
"All of us are accustomed to using deadly force. If necessary and without hesitation. You aren't. And, while that's one of the things that makes you who you are, you being you could cost you your life."
"I understand."
"So you'll promise to keep clear and let us take care of Shaw?"
She watches his eyes as he thinks, sees them shift away.
He shakes his head. "I'm sorry. I'm not sure I can make that promise."
She's taken aback. "Why? You said you understood."
"I do understand, but here's my problem.
"If I just stand back and let you get hurt…or worse, I don't think I could live with myself."
He pauses, looks intently at her. "Could you, if you were in my place?"
Caught off guard, she blurts out, "No, but that's my job…"
She stops as she sees the flash of hurt in his eyes. He turns away.
Bringing her hand to his cheek, she gently turns his face her way. She quietly apologizes. "I'm sorry. Taking care of you is not my job. Hasn't been since…before I even met you, I guess."
"Oh? How long before?"
She's happy to see the hurt disappear, replaced by curiosity.
"I'm not absolutely sure. Maybe on the plane, after I read over the files about you and the team. Maybe after talking with Casey or confronting Forrest." Shrugging, she adds, "It sorta snuck up on me.
"But it crystallized the first moment I met you. I promised myself I'd never let anyone hurt you. You were under my care, willingly given."
"Care at first sight, huh?" He chuckles softly.
She blushes. Just nods.
"Well, it was...care...at first sight for me too. I worry about you being hurt just as much as you do about me. Do you understand where I'm coming from?"
"I do, but that still doesn't change the fact that I'm able to handle myself better than you. So you need to stay clear. Do you see where I'm coming from?"
He looks stubborn. Doesn't reply.
She sternly admonishes him. "Charles Irving Bartowski." He winces at the use of his full name. "Do not make me get angry with you. You wouldn't like it. Not at all."
Despite her forcefulness, he's defiant. "Look, the way I see it is that I really don't have to be concerned about you being mad at me even if I do stick my nose in."
She cocks an eyebrow. "Why so?"
"There are four possible outcomes. In only one of them do I have to worry about being chewed out.
"In two of them, one of us buys the farm, so there'll either be no chewer or chewee. In the third, we're both gone, so no worries there.
"Only in the scenario where we both survive would I have to be on the receiving end of your wrath. If that's the case, and I have every confidence it would be, I'd be so happy you could chew me out all you want. I wouldn't care because you'd still be here. With me."
He gives her a cheeky, self-satisfied grin.
His whistle-past-the-graveyard attitude astounds her. How can he speak so casually, so jokingly about losing his life?
Then she understands. It's his way of coping with all that's been dumped on him. She's suddenly quite certain he's done the same thing, numerous times, with Forrest and Casey. Which, she's also certain, would've annoyed the hell out of both of them. She even more so than him.
But there's more to it in this instance.
It isn't as if he's unafraid. Sarah can see that plainly. But it's also clear that his fear is not primarily for himself.
It's for her.
Because he knows that, while this morning's little scene in the Buy More had likely lessened the danger to himself, it'd done nothing to reduce the threat hanging over her head.
He's willing to risk his life. Not as he'd done before, largely motivated by a sense of responsibility or duty, but because he loves her.
Because her life is just as important to him as his own.
His inability to accede to her request is his way of showing her that. Even his seeming casualness about their potential fate is his way of saying that he'd rather go down swinging than let her be hurt. Or taken from him.
No one, not her father, not Graham, not Bryce, had ever shown such concern for her welfare. Any apprehension they'd felt had, first and foremost, always been for the success of the con, the mission. It's not as if they hadn't cared for her. They had, each in their own way, but any consideration for her emotional and physical well-being definitely took a back seat to the task at hand.
She'd never known it could be any other way.
Until now.
It's clear that Chuck firmly believes her safety takes precedence over the job, even over his own safety.
It's sobering and a little…scary…to think that someone as good as him cares for her that much.
And it's equally sobering and scary that she feels the same toward him.
How did this happen?
Sarah, for once in your life don't question. Just accept it.
Without warning, she's suddenly overtaken by a yawn. "Sorry, Casey and I took turns on watch last night. Just grabbed a nap on his couch."
"I didn't get much sleep either. Ellie and Devon were both up early for their shifts, so that woke me up."
"Why would that wake you up?"
"I was sleeping on the couch. After I'd briefed Carina…extensively…about Jill, I let her take my bed."
"And how did she take that? You sleeping out there?"
He blushes. A little. He quietly replies, "She said something along the lines that if she was going to be a bodyguard she had to make sure the body she was guarding was always within reach. Preferably laying right beside her."
Sarah snorts. "Typical."
"When I turned her down, firmly, she told me I didn't have to worry, that she wasn't about to jump anyone's claim."
"She used those words?"
"Yeah. She did. And emphasized the word 'jump'." He looks up her, a curious expression on his face. "What do you think she meant?"
She hesitates. "Chuck, you know Carina's a bit of a flirt."
He raises an eyebrow, snorts. "A bit? That's a classic understatement. The first time she was here, she tried to seduce me. Wearing nothing but lingerie. Skimpy lingerie."
"Yeah, she told me about that." She pauses. "And when she told me you'd turned her down, I was proud of you."
"Why?"
"Most men would have jumped at the chance."
He shakes his head. Looks at her closely. "That's not me, Sarah. Jumping casually into someone's bed."
"No, I never thought it was. But she can be very…persuasive. Saying no to her takes strength and courage. Qualities you possess in abundance.'
He's embarrassed by her praise, so to spare him, she moves on.
"Anyway, she figured out how I feel about you. So I told her to back off."
"Let me get this straight. You've claimed me. Is that right?"
She blushes. "I suppose I have."
He sounds serious. "I'm not sure how I feel about that. I'm not some inanimate object to be possessed by anyone who comes along."
She gulps. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply..."
Her voice tapers off as he flashes her one of his nose-crinkling grins.
"Just kidding. Being claimed by someone like yourself is no problem, trust me."
Sarah punches him in the shoulder.
"Ow! What was that for?"
"For kidding around about something serious."
Rubbing his shoulder, he replies, contritely, "Alright, alright. I won't do it again. I promise.
"But only if you promise me something."
"What's that?"
"That you won't be upset with me if I ever sorta...you know...claim you." He looks at her hopefully.
She stops, realizes that she already feels claimed. Just not...officially.
She smiles. "No, Chuck. That won't be a problem. I promise."
"Good." He looks relieved.
He turns back to his computer. "I should get back to the search."
"And I need a quick shower."
He turns to face her. "Here?"
"Yes, if that's OK with you?"
"Of course. I would, however, ask you to make sure the bathroom door is closed. Otherwise, I might get…distracted.
Flirtatiously, she leans in, whispers in his ear, "We wouldn't want that now, would we?"
He freezes for a moment. "No, of course not."
Not yet, anyway.
After.
"I'll just grab some things from my place."
"OK. See you in a bit."
She leans in, kisses his cheek.
He returns to his typing, his expression slipping into his adorable concentration face.
She looks into her purse, sees her apartment keys resting on top of her pistol. She fishes them out and heads over to her place.
My place? A home? With Chuck sharing it?
She laughs at herself.
You're getting a little ahead of yourself, aren't you? You haven't even got furniture yet.
She inserts the key into the lock, opens the door and enters the darkened apartment, keys in hand.
Need to open those curtains. I've had it with darkness.
Shutting the door behind her she gropes for the light switch.
What did someone say? You don't really know your home until you know what all the switches do? And know where they are, instinctively?
She chuckles again.
"Hello, Sarah. I've been waiting."
She turns.
Shaw.
Standing in the shadows.
A pistol held down by his side. That it's not pointing at her means nothing.
He stands close enough to ensure that he won't miss, but far enough away that there's no chance of her covering the distance between them before he shoots her down.
Just as he'd been trained.
Just as she'd been trained.
Her hand goes to her purse.
His voice is flat, stripped of emotion. "Don't. You'll be dead before you even get close. And that would be a pity, because you and I need to have a little talk."
She stops.
"Put the purse on the floor. Slowly. And kick it over to me."
She follows his instructions. He doesn't even glance at the purse as it stops its slide right in front of him. He kicks it aside.
She spits out his name. "Shaw."
"Daniel, please, Sarah. Since I'm the last person you're ever going to see, I think it only appropriate that we be on a first-name basis.
"After all, taking someone's life is, in some ways, the ultimate act of intimacy, don't you think?"
It's the last thing she wants to do, give the man any satisfaction, but she quickly realizes that if there's to be any hope of getting out of this situation, she has to play along. Stall for time. Maybe Casey or Carina will somehow catch on.
She moderates her tone. "Daniel."
"That's better. Thank you.
"I'd wager you're wondering how I got here, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"It's quite marvelous how little money means to you if you know you have no future to worry about. Private plane at a private airfield. The whole Idaho Falls scenario was just to distract you. Paid someone who looked a bit like me to drive the rental car."
"Let me guess. You came in the back during that blackout?"
"Yes. A supervisor at the power plant is now substantially better off than he was yesterday. And the loose cordon Beckman had established around the area was ridiculously easy to penetrate."
He gestures with his free hand, however, never taking his eyes from her. Not for an instant.
"I'm glad we met here.
"This place serves as a perfect metaphor for people like us, doesn't it Sarah? Attractive and warm from the outside, but empty and cold on the inside. Devoid of any real life. Like a whitewashed grave, full of dead men's bones."
He pauses briefly. "You know, that's why I was attracted to you. I realized that we were both...vacant. And I thought that maybe, just maybe, together, we could find a way to somehow...fill…each other once again. Find some small measure of joy in this miserable existence."
Not in a million years.
"You should've taken me up on my offer back at Langley. Instead, you refused rudely, dismissively. If we'd gone out, gotten to know each other…became intimate, I might have found some way to rationalize what you'd done. I might have found a way to let you live.
"Oh well, water under the bridge."
"You know, you won't get away with it, Daniel. Eventually, they'll track you down. And you won't be getting any star on the wall at Langley when they do.
"You'll just be dead."
He shrugs. "Been dead for quite some time now."
He muses. "I wasn't always this way, you know. When I met Eve, came to love her, she warmed me. Filled me with love.
"What's that saying? Oh, yes, 'Bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh'. We became one flesh, Sarah. A single person in two bodies. She was more than my better half, so much more.
"We were happy. I was happy." He stops, looks perplexed. "I used to laugh."
He focuses again. "And then you killed her. Killed me."
"She was a traitor, Daniel. She betrayed her country. She betrayed you."
He shakes his head angrily, the first sign of emotion she's seen.
"No! It was all a lie. She was loyal to her country. To me. It was Graham's paranoia that brought all this upon us."
He pauses. "When I broke into his private files, read 'The Family Jewels', I finally saw him for what he'd been. A heartless, manipulative bastard.
"It's unfortunate that he's already dead because I would've loved to see him suffer. Beg for his life as I stood before him.
"But he's gone. You're here. That'll have to do.
"Oh! By the way, you might be interested to know that Graham had made a notation in your private file. A contingency plan to make sure you were permanently 'retired' if you became a danger to him or an embarrassment to the CIA. A notation, by the way, seemingly endorsed by our current boss. His words were along the lines of, 'Look into this,' if I recall.
He shrugs. "I'd tell you to watch your back, but, considering why I'm here, there's not much point to that, is there?"
She replies sarcastically, "I appreciate your thoughtfulness."
He ignores it, just continues on in a voice free from inflection.
"You know, I'd always wondered who it was that murdered her. Hoped that whoever it was had been...humane…human. That Eve saw in her killer's eyes some level of remorse, reluctance…so that her last thoughts were at least somewhat…pleasant."
His voice hardens. "But when I found it was you, I knew she'd even been cheated of that small consolation."
"Agent Sarah Walker. Killer nonpareil. Bringer of death. Without compunction. Without heart. Without soul.
"A machine. Not a person."
"You're wrong, Daniel. Don't presume to know me."
"But I do know you. Because I know what our business does to all of us, but especially to those who specialize in your...line of work."
"You're like tainted meat. Unfit for human consumption. Perhaps you should've worn a little sign to that effect around your neck."
She bristles—internally. Keeping her voice level, she replies, "Not everyone feels that way, Daniel."
"How can they not, Sarah? Anyone who feels different is either certifiable or doesn't have any idea who you really are. What you've done."
She wants to scream out, "You're wrong. There's someone who he sees me as a person. A worthwhile person. Who loves me despite everything."
But she restrains herself. Drawing attention to Chuck can't possibly be of any value. It'd only add to his danger.
She stubbornly repeats herself, "Not everyone feels that way."
"Ah! That would be your charge, the inimitable Charles Bartowski, unless I miss my guess. I read the file."
She doesn't respond.
"What did you do? Tell him some sad cover story? Pour on the crocodile tears to fool him into believing that you were anything more than an empty space, a vacuum?"
She stands mute.
"Did you seduce him, Sarah, take him to your bed because you were bored and needed a little distraction?"
Stone-faced she makes no reply.
"You needn't worry. I've no intention of harming him. Because while I suspect he fell in love with you quite quickly, you're incapable of reciprocating any such tender feelings. To anyone.
"So me killing him would mean no more to you than if I'd swatted a fly. All I'd be pricking would be your professional pride. Nothing else."
He smiles. A smile without feeling. Or meaning.
"Besides, I feel a little sorry for the man. He has no idea what kind of serpent he's taken into his bosom."
"And unlike you, I get no joy from taking a life. Not even yours."
He smiles, more of a grimace. "Well, a little joy.
"Which I think we should get to now. I've said all I need to say."
…
As his trigger finger begins to move, she tenses herself, knowing in her heart it's hopeless.
An ineffable sadness threatens to overwhelm her, to take from her any will to resist.
But she pushes it aside.
I have to try.
...
The door behind her bursts open, bringing light with it. But she daren't turn from Shaw, lest she miss even the tiniest opening. Any chance at all.
Chuck's voice is excited, worried.
No! Chuck, run!
"Sarah! I think Shaw is in LA! He may already be—"
She watches in agonizing slow-motion as Shaw's pistol shifts away from her. Watches as he squeezes the trigger. The puff of smoke. The slide moving back. The empty shell casing being ejected. The slide moving forward.
She hears Chuck tumble to the floor. She knows that sound all too well. The sound of a body deprived of conscious control.
The sound of the dead.
It takes all the willpower she possesses to not run to him. But if she does she'll only be dead too.
And Shaw won't be.
His pistol starts to swing back towards her.
Her howl of abject pain, of all-consuming fury, is animalistic, otherworldly. It echoes off the empty walls. Startles him.
With a flick of her wrist, she flings her apartment keys at his face.
He flinches, only for an instant, as the keys narrowly miss striking him.
But it's enough.
She covers the distance between them in a heartbeat.
Almost contemptuously, she uses her left hand to bat aside his pistol. It goes off and part of her is aware of the bullet shattering the glass of the front window.
She uses her right hand to strike at the pressure point just above his elbow. His temporarily nerveless fingers release the gun. It clatters to the floor.
Sensing, rather than seeing, his left arm swinging towards her face, she ducks. His fist only glances off her cheekbone, but it's enough for her to see stars.
She falls to her knees before him. She looks up, sees him raise his left hand, fist cocked, ready to finish her.
No. Not this way. Not without taking him with me.
With every ounce of strength she possesses, she slams her fist up, into his groin. He grunts, doubles over in pain as she thrusts herself from the floor, her head connecting with his nose.
She feels it, hears it break.
He staggers a few steps back. But he's tough, shakes his head once, twice, drops of blood flying off, and comes at her again. Roaring his anger.
She knows if he can get close enough to use his mass and superior strength, she's finished.
She dances aside from his headlong charge, and, as his momentum carries him past her, she leaps and sends her foot crashing into the back of his head.
He staggers, almost falls, but turns back to face her once more. But it's clear that he hasn't fully recovered his senses.
Without hesitation, she goes on the offensive.
She flashes her foot towards his groin. A feint. His instinctive reaction opens him up. She crashes the heel of her palm into his broken nose.
He howls in pain. Brings his hands to his face.
She drives her fist into his chest just below the breastbone. He's heavily muscled, but she is the unstoppable force. She hears the breath whoosh from his lungs.
He bends over, gasping. She smashes her elbow into the base of his skull.
He falls, face first, to the ground, with no attempt to protect himself. He lies motionless.
She straddles him. Reaches down and pulls a knife from her ankle sheath. Grabs his hair and pulls up his head. Puts the knife to his throat.
She hesitates. Hears Chuck's voice in her head. Sarah! Stop!
"Sarah! Stop!"
She looks up.
Chuck stands in front of her, shakily, a lump rising on his forehead.
Her berserker rage flees.
She's not certain she believes her eyes. Her voice cracks.
"Chuck? It's you? You're alive?"
He senses her disbelief, earnestly replies. "Yes, Sarah. One thing I've learned to do well these past few years is get out of the way when bullets are flying. Unfortunately, I didn't remember where the door frame was. Knocked myself silly."
The knife drops from her hand. She stands, shaky herself now that the adrenaline has dissipated.
Her voice is small, childlike. "You're really OK? You're really here?"
His voice is reassuring, warm. "Yes. I expect I'll have a hell of a headache, but you're hurt. Your cheek—"
He has no chance to finish his sentence because she's suddenly in his arms, his head in her hands, frantically kissing him, again and again, laughing even as she sobs, wetting his face with her tears.
She's dimly aware of Casey and Carina storming through the door, guns drawn.
But she doesn't care what they see. What they hear.
She clings to him. She's not about to let him go.
Ever.
A few minutes pass before she's able to speak. Her words come out in rush. "I thought you were dead." She hiccups. "That my life was over." Hiccup. "That the only thing left was to take Shaw with me into hell."
Casey interrupts with a grunt. She looks his way.
"Shaw's already halfway there, I expect." His voice is tinged with pride, respect. "Seems you handled yourself pretty well, Walker."
Carina, with Shaw's pistol in her hand, smirks. "Hell hath no fury like a woman, hey, Sarah?"
"I'm not scorned, Carina." She looks into Chuck's eyes. He smiles. Nods. She looks back to her friend. "Not in the least."
"Sickeningly aware of that, thank you. But the fury part is certainly appropriate, don't you think?"
Sarah looks down at Shaw. He's handcuffed, laying on his side, unmoving except for the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes through his mouth. His eyes are already starting to blacken, though the bleeding has stopped.
"Yes, you're right."
Casey hands her the knife. "Seems this fell out during the fight. Just as well you didn't need to use it." He looks her in the eye. "It would have made a real mess if you had. Hard to clean up after something like that."
She catches his meaning. Taking the knife from his hand, she agrees, "You're right. It must've fallen out by accident.
"I'll have to be more careful in the future."
"I'm sure you will."
She looks at her friends. "How did you know?"
Carina replies. "Heard that god-awful howl of yours. Least I assume it was you and not some demented urban coyote on crack. That and the bullet lodging itself in Casey's door kinda got our attention."
Casey interrupts as he slips his phone back into his pocket. "Clean up crew is on the way."
He gives both Chuck and Sarah an appraising look. "You'd better get your boyfriend to the hospital for a check-up, Sarah. Judging by the size of that lump he might have a concussion. And you might want to get your cheek looked at."
Sarah reaches up, realizes for the first time that she's bleeding, not a lot, but enough to stain her fingertips.
"You'll be OK here?"
"Yes, go ahead. Carina and I will take care of things."
She hesitates.
Carina jumps in, turns Chuck toward the door, then does the same for Sarah. Then she gives each of them a gentle shove. "Go! Get outta here. We'll be fine."
…
They're a mile down the road, heading to Westside Medical before Sarah can find the courage to broach the subject.
The sheer, joyous almost overwhelming relief, that they'd come through, relatively unscathed, had pushed every other concern from her mind. But, as she'd sat down in the driver's seat, her words—her promise had come back to her.
She looks over to the passenger seat. He's quiet, rubbing his temples, eyes closed, the headache he'd presaged obviously having arrived.
She hesitates, wonders if she should put it off until he's feeling better,
No, if I don't deal with it now I may never have the courage.
She pulls the vehicle over to the side of the road. Turns off the engine.
"Chuck?"
He turns to her. "Yes, Sarah?"
"I've broken my word to you."
He's confused. "Excuse me?"
"I promised you that Agent Walker was gone. That we were rid of her. I was wrong."
"What do you mean?"
She takes a deep breath. Answers with a question. "Chuck, how much did you see back there?"
"I was kinda groggy after I picked myself up from the floor. It was a little hard to see things clearly. And it was a little dark."
She senses he's trying to spare her, but she needs the truth.
"You did see me put the knife to his throat, didn't you?"
It's his turn to hesitate. He looks down at his feet, before quietly responding, "Yes. I did."
After a few long seconds, he adds, "It terrified me."
There's a finality in his words. An acknowledgment that what he witnessed is more than he can possibly take on.
It's over.
She's crushed, her heart pulverized.
But, deep down, she'd always feared this. His hearing about who she'd been, even from her own mouth, was nothing compared to actually seeing Agent Walker, the enforcer, in action.
How could anyone not recoil from that? Anyone normal.
She chokes back a sob. She reaches for the ignition. Barely manages to squeeze out the words. "I understand. I'll contact Beckman and my boss tomorrow. Tell them they'll need to send someone to take my place."
He looks at her as if she's lost her mind. "Why..why would you do that? I thought you..cared for me?"
"Chuck, how can I stay here if all I do is terrify you? If every time you look at me all you can see is a woman willing to do...what I came close to doing? What hope would there be for us?"
"No, no! Idiot!" He's about to whack himself in the forehead, but fortunately catches himself in time.
"That's not what I meant."
He takes a breath. "Given the same circumstances...if I thought Shaw had...killed...you, I don't know if I would've stopped until he was dead."
He looks at her with pleading eyes. "That's what terrified me, Sarah. The thought that I could kill someone given the right conditions. Not in self-defense. Not to save someone."
He looks away. "Just for revenge."
Her relief is immediately displaced by her concern for him. She takes his head in her hands, turns him to face her. "No, Chuck! You would never do anything like that!"
He shakes his head. "You can't know that, Sarah, not for sure. Hell, I'm not even sure."
"Yes, I can. I know you. You, Chuck Bartowski, are incapable of such acts."
"And by that, you're implying that you are?"
She flushes, caught off guard by his question. "Chuck, I've told you about the things I've done. I've carried out my orders."
"I'm not asking about then. I'm asking about now. Would you have done it if I hadn't been there to stop you?"
"I...I don't know. Not for sure. I had the knife to his throat when I heard your voice...in my head...telling me to stop. I hesitated. And then you were there, really there. And I did stop.
"But if you hadn't...I don't know. I just don't know."
He takes her hand, softly says, "I know. You wouldn't have done it, even if I hadn't been there to actually say the words."
She looks into his eyes, wanting so badly to believe him. To believe in herself.
He recognizes her desperation. "Whoever you believed you were before, whatever roles they forced you to play, you're not that person anymore."
He's excited, words tumbling out. "Don't you see, Sarah? Your coming to Burbank, to me, this was, is, your chance to be the person you really are, that you always were. Not the con artist, not the agent, just you.
"The woman I would choose to spend the rest of my life with."
She gapes. "Chuck! What are you saying?"
He looks startled by his outburst. But he doesn't walk the words back. Not completely, anyway.
"That's not exactly the way I wanted to ask you. Or the time and place. But I mean them, more than any other words I said to anyone."
He pauses to take a breath before quietly adding, "Sarah, I don't expect you to answer, because I know it's much too soon, but if you can just keep it in mind for some point in the—"
She places her fingers gently on his mouth, stopping him mid-sentence.
"Chuck?"
He nods, with her fingers still in place.
"Yes."
—
A/N: An epilogue and then we're done.