A/N: The title from Chapter 1 refers to a Jackson Browne song, Running on Empty. I thought the lyrics were appropriate.

A/N2: Here comes TMI. Stanford University is on the quarter system: Fall, Winter, Spring, Summer. First year med students start at the end of August. That's why Ellie is already at Stanford before Chuck and Morgan get there. Normal instruction starts on the Monday of the last week of September. Housing opens the Wednesday before classes for new students and Friday before classes for returning students. I had Chuck and Morgan come early, the Saturday before the normal students. I don't know if Stanford does that in real life, but I do know that other universities have student-athletes arrive on campus before the rest of the student population. Stanford doesn't have athletic dorms as some other schools do. Athletes room in the dorms among the normal people.

A/N3: Fans of Chuck! Of Sarah! My Chucksters. I see in your eyes the questions that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the imagination of Chuck fanfic writers fails, when we forsake our heroes and break all bonds of fandom, but it is not this day. An hour of answers and abbreviations explained when all of Chuck's secrets come to light, but it is not this day! This day we wait! By all that you hold dear on this good website, I bid you read, Fans of Chuck!

Disclaimer: In Athens, Georgia there is a tree that owns itself, called The Tree That Owns Itself. Duh. Were you expecting something else? Technically, it's the son of the tree that owns itself, but you can take your technicality and sh-… Ahem. Anyway, it's all true. You can google it. Maybe, The Tree That Owns Itself owns Chuck, too. I know I don't own Chuck. And the Tree isn't talking. I make no money from Chuck. See? I told you I could do smart aleck.

Chapter 2 – Hard Day

Mid-June – Almost Four Months Ago

Sarah Walker turned her midnight blue Sonata off of Orange Avenue in Coronado, California and parked in front of the Water and Sports Physical Therapy office. Turning off the engine, Sarah took a short cleansing breath, checked herself in the rearview mirror, then got out and walked toward the office. She was excited to be taking such a big step towards her goal of becoming a doctor of physical therapy. Over spring break, she had arranged with her step-dad's own therapist, Dr. Justine Richmond, to complete her shadowing requirement at the clinic that summer.

Dr. Richmond had even gone the extra mile and offered Sarah an internship for the whole summer. Sarah would be able to do the shadowing necessary to get accepted into a DPT program, but she would also get a chance to assist a therapist with actual therapy sessions. She was curious which doctor she would be assigned to shadow and whether or not she would intern for that same doctor, be assigned someone else, or work with several doctors. Would they have her work with some of the physical therapy technicians, she wondered.

Taking another deep breath, holding it, and slowly letting it out, calmed Sarah's nerves a bit more. She smiled as she remembered having that same jittery feeling before. The dance recitals, soccer games, and taekwondo matches, even the youth choir performances at church, of her childhood and high school years and the acapella competitions at college with the Stanford Songbirds bubbled up from her memory. They reminded her that it was more excess adrenaline than fear. Having gathered herself, Sarah pulled open the door to the clinic and took a step into her future.

Entering the office, she saw various exercise machines off to the left. Approaching the front desk on the right, she was surprised to see one of her old high school classmates, Heather Chandler, standing behind it.

"Heather!" Sarah exclaimed. "I didn't know you worked here." She suppressed a smirk. "My how the mighty have fallen." She thought.

"Sarah … uh… wha- … what are you … uh … doing here?" Heather stuttered in confusion.

"I'm trying to get into physical therapy school. Dr. Richmond agreed to let me complete my shadowing requirement here and she's given me an internship for the summer."

"Wow, that's pretty nice. How did you manage to get that deal?"

"Yeah, it is. Dr. Richmond is my step-dad's therapist. When I was home from school during my last break, I came by and asked her. She was so cool to accept and then offer me the internship." Sarah smiled.

"I heard about your step-dad. I'm so sorry." There was only a slight bit of snark in Heather's voice, even after all this time, but Sarah heard it all the same.

Sarah's smile withered and died at the thought of Jack Burton, her step-father. "So, how long have you been working here? Why are you working here?" she asked, frowning slightly.

"I've only been here since the end of May. I got my associates in Business Administration and got this job soon after." Heather replied.

"Didn't you have some big plans back in high school? What happened?"

"That a-hole Dick Duffy happened. Jerk got me pregnant right after high school. Graduation night, to be exact, and ran for the hills as fast as his legs would carry him." Heather huffed.

"Jeez, he was even more of an ass than I thought he was back then, wasn't he?" Sarah shook her head.

"He absolutely was. I decided to keep the baby and, of course, that threw any college plans out the window. So, I had my daughter the following March and spent the next year or so caring for her. Lived at home with my parents. I enrolled at San Diego Community College, fall two years ago. And here we are." Heather finished and raised her arms, "Ta-Da!"

"That's some story. I'm sorry Dick left you in that predicament, but you sound like you've figured out a path forward."

"Thanks. Yeah, I have." Heather said proudly.

"Are you planning on going on to get your four-year degree at some point?" Sarah asked. She was surprised to find herself genuinely interested. Heather had been a popular, cheerleading, bitch in high school. One of Sarah's tormentors. Even so, she didn't deserve what Duffy did to her.

"I don't know. Maybe? Depends. Having a daughter changes everything, you know?" Heather shrugged.

"Not really, if I'm being honest, but I can sort of imagine." Sarah thought a second. "Since I'm going to be around all summer, we should try and have lunch together some."

"I'd like that." Heather replied. "It's always nice to be able to talk to other adults. Baby talk can drive you a little bonkers after a while."

"I bet." Sarah grinned. "Maybe, while we eat, we can plot revenge on D-bag Dick." Her grin turned a bit evil.

Heather barked out a laugh. "Yeah, I'd really like that. A lot. A whole lot."

"It's a date," Sarah said. "I better get started, though. Could you let Dr. Richmond know I'm here?"

"Sure thing. And Sarah …," Heather said, as she picked up the phone to call Dr. Richmond. "… Thanks for what you said. I'm glad you're going to be interning here this summer."

"Me too," Sarah said, surprised to realize she meant it.

Sarah took a seat. While she waited on Dr. Richmond to come out, her thoughts turned to her step-dad, and why she was there to begin with. She pictured Jack in his wheelchair. The chair she was responsible for putting him in. Unbidden, the images of that fateful car crash invaded her mind.

It was just after high school graduation and Jack was teaching her how to drive. The other kids had teased her about not being able to drive, yet. It made her mad because it wasn't her fault. She was young, only 15, a prodigy. She liked being a prodigy. Liked being able to learn things faster and take more advanced classes than the kids her own age, but that meant she wasn't allowed to get a driver's license until after her senior year in school. The law didn't care about prodigies.

Being a prodigy meant that she took classes with the older kids and that bugged them. It intimidated them, her mother, Emma, said, when Sarah would come home teary-eyed from some stupid high school slight.

It may have intimidated them, but it didn't stop them from bugging her, asking her out on dates. She knew she was pretty from the way the boys looked at her. And some men, too. Maybe more than just some men. Creepy. Like she was a piece of meat waiting for them on a plate. She sure wasn't stupid, she knew she was too young. Especially for what she thought they wanted. She knew about that, too.

Sarah remembered when puberty hit. Her mom teased her, singing "June Is Bustin' Out All Over," making her little sister, Molly, giggle. She may have been singing and gently teasing, but Emma signed Sarah up for taekwondo lessons and both she and Jack insisted Sarah take them and take them seriously. Their insistence had been prophetic, as those lessons had come in handy over the years, particularly on prom night.

The senior prom had been a nightmare. Sarah really was too young to go, but she had begged. Wanting the fantasy and, maybe, the romance. Thank you, Walt Disney. And she really did love to dance, so her parents reluctantly gave her permission. The dress was just magical. It reminded Sarah of the beautiful gown Julia Roberts had worn to the opera in Pretty Woman. Her date, Harry Walton, had promised, even sworn to her parents, that he would be a gentleman and take care of her.

That oath lasted until the first slow dance. Harry Walton may have made that oath, but Sarah was slow dancing with Handsy Hank. Well, Handsy Hank got a Dollyeo Chagi, a roundhouse kick, to the side of his head. That kick split the seam of her dress all down her leg and ended her night. Sarah called her mom and got a ride home. She had been so pissed that she didn't start crying about the ruined dream until she got home and changed for bed. Emma just held her and rubbed her back until she fell asleep.

Sarah must have killed Handsy Hank, because Harry Walton showed up in his place at school the next Monday with a black eye. Harry also got a week's detention from one of the prom chaperones who witnessed his sleight of hand tricks. Boys had more respect for Sarah after that. Her few friends even took to calling her 'Badass Qui Chang Walker'. They said it was from some old kung fu TV show. She didn't care as long as the boys kept their hands to themselves. Sarah had plans and it didn't include Handsy Hank or anyone like him. She was going to Stanford. She was gonna go places.

It wasn't too long after the prom that Jack started her driving lessons. They had gotten a nice, used, burgundy Accord that Jack promised would be hers once she finished learning and got her license. Sarah had been stunned. It was the most unexpected and wonderful gift she had ever gotten. Emma and Jack, both, had beamed while she squealed and jumped around like a crazy person, hugging them nearly to death.

Jack was a patient and kind teacher. He never got angry with her when she made mistakes. He just told her how to do it correctly and guided her through the proper actions. Jack was one of the reasons that Sarah loved to drive. Right from the beginning. L-O-V-E-D. Loved it. The other reason was the acute sense of freedom she got from being behind the wheel of a car. In charge. It didn't matter that she was younger than the other kids when she was tooling around in a car. Well, she loved it, until that day. That awful day. She still loved to drive, but not quite as much.

She had been doing everything she was supposed to be doing. Keeping her eyes on the road, but still being aware of the other cars around them. The light had turned green and Sarah had driven into the intersection, after carefully checking the other lanes of traffic, just like Jack had taught her. At that moment a small Toyota pickup truck roared into the intersection from the cross street on their right. It came out of literally nowhere, so fast that Sarah had never even seen it, much less been able to do anything to avoid the collision.

The truck slammed into the right passenger door next to where Jack was sitting. The impact of the crash crumpled the passenger door into the seat where Jack was buckled in. The force was so strong that it bent the Accord's frame and undercarriage. Sarah hit her head on her side window, which cracked it and gave her some cuts in her hairline and on her face, but Jack was much worse off. He was badly cut up and the crumpled door and bent frame pinned him in his seat. It had taken the police and firemen more than an hour to pry the door and cut Jack out of the totaled car. To Sarah, he looked like he was dead.

They took every precaution and gently strapped Jack onto the gurney before sliding him into the ambulance. Sarah seemed to only have minor injuries, but the paramedics wanted her to go to the hospital to get checked out, just in case, so she was with Jack in the back of the ambulance. A policeman had called Emma with the horrible news, so she was waiting for them when the ambulance arrived at the Sharp Coronado Hospital Emergency Room, having left Molly with the next-door neighbor. Emma had been frantic with worry for them both.

After being checked out by a neurologist and an orthopedist and getting her superficial cuts bandaged, Sarah was admitted for observation overnight just to make sure she was ok. She and her mom had spent the rest of the evening and on into the night, in her hospital room, waiting for word on Jack's condition. They had both been terrified. Terrified that they would lose Jack like they had lost Sarah and Molly's father; Emma's first husband Hal. At some point, Emma had asked, and Sarah had told her what had happened, between her sobs.

"Mom, I was being careful. I was." Sarah sobbed. "Ju-just like Jack t—taught m-me. Waiting a couple of s-seconds after the light changed to make s-sure everyone was out of t-the intersection and no one else was c-coming into it."

"I'm sure you were, honey. I'm sure you were. You're a careful and responsible girl." Emma comforted her, holding back her own tears.

"We were right in the middle of the intersection there at 10th and Orange. This truck came out of nowhere. Screaming along 10th and just ran the light totally. I never even saw it." Sarah sniffed. "It hit us so hard. Hit … hit Jack so hard. I banged my head. It h—hurt, but Jack was soo bad. Jammed by the door and all cut up. I thought he was d—dead." Sarah dissolved into full on sobbing again.

Emma just held her and rubbed her back, murmuring "Moja biedna dziewczynka" [My poor baby girl], like her own mother had done for her, when she had been inconsolable. Her own tears for her husband and her daughter silently slid down her cheeks.

After what seemed like an eternity a doctor came to Sarah's room and told them that Jack was alive. They had started to smile at the news, but before they could begin to relax, the doctor had delivered the other, crushing news. Jack's spinal column had been damaged and he was paralyzed from the waist down. Most likely confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. The doctor explained that he would prescribe rehabilitation and physical therapy, but they should prepare for the worst and hope for the best. Emma had been so stunned; she just froze. Sarah had gaped at the doctor in horror. It was all her fault. Jack was paralyzed and it was all her fault. Jack had been there for her and her mom and Molly after her dad had died. Now, Sarah had hurt him. She had hurt her mother and Molly, too. All of them, badly. Sarah had to do something to fix it. To fix her family. To fix Jack.

"Sarah?" a tentative voice pulled Sarah from her thoughts. She looked around, a little disoriented. Standing in front of her was Dr. Justine Richmond, dressed casually in khaki slacks, a dark blue polo shirt sporting the therapy practice name and logo in light blue and white stitching on the left breast, and trainers. She was looking at Sarah, a bit concerned.

"Dr. Richmond, hi. Hi! S-Sorry, I was lost in thought." Sarah apologized, as she stood.

"I could see that you were thinking deep." Dr. Richmond chuckled. "How have you been? How did your year end up?"

"I'm fine. School was good, too. I can't believe that I'm going to be a senior next year."

"Time flies when you're having fun, they say."

"I don't know about having fun, but time flies when you're up to your eyeballs in schoolwork. It always seems to be the night before the test or the paper is due. You know what I mean?"

"I do know that feeling. Don't miss it at all." Dr. Richmond laughed. Changing the subject, she asked. "How's your mom?"

"She's fine. Holding down the fort, as always."

"And Molly?"

"She's fine, too, I guess. If being a 13-year-old brat is being fine." Sarah huffed. Dr. Richmond chuckled before sobering.

"And Jack?" Justine watched Sarah closely.

"Oh, he's fine. Never a cross word. Positive attitude and all that. You know?" Sarah shrugged. Justine saw the frown on Sarah's face before she could wipe it away.

"I do know. Jack is always upbeat. No matter what. Pretty amazing actually."

"Yeah, it is." Sarah admitted.

"Ok, well, come with me and let's talk about what we have planned for you this summer."

Sarah grabbed her purse from the magazine-laden table and followed Dr. Richmond back to her office. As she walked behind the front desk, she smiled at Heather and waggled her fingers. "Wish me luck." She whispered. Heather grinned and gave her a thumbs up.

Dr. Richmond led Sarah past the desk toward the hall that ran to the back of the building. On the left was an open space where therapists would work with their patients on therapy tables, stretching and performing light exercises to aid in their recovery. Continuing on down the hall, they arrived at Dr. Richmond's office. Entering, she offered Sarah her guest chair.

"Have a seat, Sarah. Let's talk about what you'll be doing while you're with us this summer." Dr. Richmond sat down in the chair behind her desk.

"Thank you," Sarah said, sitting down.

"Sarah," Dr. Richmond began. "You know, after all the sessions I've had with Jack, that I know why you want to become a physical therapist, right? I mean, I've talked to Jack and your mom, both."

"Well, I didn't know for sure, but I pretty much guessed that was the case," Sarah admitted.

"We haven't had a chance to talk about this before now. So, let me ask, if you want to help Jack, why not become a doctor? Why physical therapy?"

"I took AP Biology in high school. You know the one where they make you dissect cats?"

"Yeah? And?"

"And it grossed me out. I mean, it took all I had not to barf in class." Sarah made a 'yeech' face. Justine laughed, in spite of herself.

"But, isn't your major, at Stanford, Biology or something? Haven't you had to do dissections in class there, too."

"Yeah, one of them. I've got a double major in Human Biology and Psychology. And, yes, I've had to do dissections in college. Same story, except I did barf once. Made it to the ladies' room in time, but I drove that porcelain bus hard." Justine barked out a laugh. Sarah grinned.

"Oh, I like you, Sarah." Justine said, wiping the tears from her eyes. "It's going to be a good summer. Nice deflection, by the way. No dice. Why not medicine?"

"OK, full disclosure," Sarah replied. "After my queasy stomach with the preserved and prepared animals, I didn't think I could stand to deal with human cadavers, much less living people. I had physical therapy back in school when I rehabbed from my different dance and soccer injuries, so I knew a bit about what was involved. After watching what you've done for Jack and hearing him tell stories about what he's seen other people recover from here, it just sounded cool. A way I could help people. Without all the barfing." Another grin.

"Makes sense." Justine gave Sarah a thoughtful look. "What were you planning on majoring in at college before the accident?"

Sarah sat back in surprise. She hadn't expected that question. Hesitatingly, she answered. "I wanted to double major in Linguistics and Languages. Never got around to deciding which languages, though. I've got the math and science stuff covered, mostly, but I liked my foreign language classes in high school better."

"What were you planning to do with those degrees?"

"I never really got that far, either. I had vague ideas of working at the UN or the State Department. Tour guide fantasies. Maybe work overseas for a big company. I hadn't given it, too much thought, honestly." Sarah shrugged.

"So, you changed your plans out of guilt about Jack? I've spoken to your mom. Is guilt the only reason you're doing this?"

"Yeah, I feel guilty. I know I shouldn't. Mom is always trying to get me to let it go. So is Jack. It's hard to let go. I can still see the accident when I close my eyes. I still have nightmares about it sometimes, too. But guilt isn't the only reason. Physical therapy is something concrete. Something that I can do to help people. And it's a growing field, so getting a job shouldn't be all that hard."

"You're right about that." Justine acknowledged.

"Studying languages was sort of a little girl fantasy for me. Sort of like wanting to be a ballerina or a princess, you know? The accident crystalized it for me. I could always learn languages, if I wanted to, but with physical therapy I could help people like I got help with my injuries and how you've been helping Jack."

"OK, that was a good answer. So, focus on helping people. Ok? Leave the guilt and martyr stuff at the door. I've spoken to a number of the people involved, including Jack and your mom. You did nothing wrong. There was nothing you could have done to prevent what happened. None. Your mom told me that the guy that hit you was drunk, driving with a suspended license, and, obviously, speeding. It was a slam dunk case. It was his fault. All of it. Not yours. He's in jail for a long time," Dr. Richmond said, firmly. "If you want to help people, help 'em. But help them from a positive place. Not a negative one. They'll be able to pick up on the difference. Believe me." She paused. "Thus, endeth your first lesson in physical therapy. Ok, Sarah?"

"Yes. Right. Ok, Dr. Richmond. Got it," Sarah nodded, but thought to herself. "I still owe you, Jack. I promised to fix it and I will. Nothing's going to change that."

"Now that we're on the same page, let's talk about what you need to get done this summer, shall we?" Justine asked.

"Yes, ma'am? Doctor? Umm …" Sarah trailed off.

"Justine is fine. Anyway, here's what I've tentatively laid out for you. You need around 100 hours of shadowing 'credit' over, at least, 3 different areas of physical therapy. More shadow hours wouldn't hurt, either. The most common ones are geriatrics, pediatrics, orthopedics, and sports rehabilitation. There are more, of course, but those are the most widespread and the most straightforward to shadow. We have visitation privileges with Sharp Coronado Hospital, so you can do some shadowing over there, too. Either with one of us or, with some advance notice, one of the therapists they have on staff. With me so far?"

"Absolutely, Justine." Sarah couldn't hide her eagerness.

"Good. Now, I figure we can get you double the hours by having you shadow three areas with us and three at Sharp. Can be the same areas or different ones. Doesn't matter. Say 30 hours each for a total of 180 hours. An hour prep each Monday morning and an hour review each Thursday afternoon. Then a full normal day interning on Friday, with the rest of the time doing shadowing. It'll take six weeks to complete all of that. After you complete it all, we'll have a review with all of the therapists involved and have each one write you a recommendation letter. That'll knock their socks off at Stanford." Justine grinned and Sarah grinned back. "The rest of the summer you'll intern here until you have to leave to go back to school. I'll write you another recommendation for the intern stuff. How's that sound?"

"It sounds amazing. Thank you, so much. I don't know what else to say. Thank you. Wow!" Sarah was smiling so big she thought her face might break.

"Fantastic. You're welcome." She looked Sarah over once more. "I see you took my advice and wore khakis and trainers. Good. Now, we've got a surprise for you." Justine said as she pulled a bag from behind her desk and offered it to Sarah. "Take a look."

Sarah opened the bag and pulled out a light blue polo shirt with the therapy practice name and logo in dark blue and white stitching, the opposite color of Justine's polo. Her shirt also had the word 'Intern' stitched below the logo. The bag also held a name tag with 'Sarah' on it. The last thing in the bag was a modest one-piece bathing suit in the same dark blue as Justine's shirt.

"Thank you, again. That's so cool." Sarah said.

"You're welcome, again. You'll need to wear that every day, both here and at the hospital. It'll mean lots of washing, I'm afraid. I forgot to mention, a minute ago, that since we do water therapy for some patients, we're giving you a company bathing suit. Having exposure to water therapy will set you apart from a lot of the other applicants." explained Justine.

"Not a problem. At all." Sarah giggled in spite of herself.

"Ok then. Go into the lady's locker room in the back past the therapy tables and change into your new duds. And we'll get started."

"Can't wait." Sarah said, leaving the office and heading for the locker room. It took everything she had to stop herself from skipping. She was so excited that she didn't realize she was humming to herself until she was alone in the changing area. Embarrassed, she stopped and blushed.

Sarah's summer literally flew by. She ended up shadowing in all four areas that Justine had told her were the most common ones.

Sarah watched geriatrics, pediatrics, and orthopedics therapy sessions at Sharp Coronado Hospital. At the office, in a rehabilitation setting, observing geriatrics, orthopedics, and sports rehabilitation made sense. Those had been the types of patients she remembered getting therapy when she had been rehabbing from her various injuries over the years, including the kids she saw getting therapy.

The shadowing was interesting and Sarah learned a lot just watching and listening to the therapists interacting with their patients. She learned even more when she was able to assist the therapists and get some practical experience actually helping people when she was at the office in her intern role. Sarah particularly liked working with the injured athletes. She could empathize with them from her own experiences and injuries and that showed in how she was able to engage them during their sessions. All the while, under the watchful eye one of the therapists or technicians.

Sarah knew that her looks were part of her success interacting with patients. She sort of minded that people stared at her, but she also figured that if that made them pay attention more closely to their therapy sessions, all the better. If blue eyes, blond hair, and smiles helped get people through therapy faster and with better results, so be it. With someone always being with her when she worked around patients, everyone was on their best behavior. She had no issues with any forward men. Truthfully, though, she wasn't sure what she'd do if Handsy Hank or D-bag Dick ever came in for treatment.

Lunch breaks with Heather were fun. Sarah even got a chance to meet Heather's daughter, Suzie, a little green eyed, auburn haired tornado. She reminded Sarah of a little Carina. In fact, Sarah enjoyed being around everyone at the therapy office. They were well trained and good at their jobs. Happy and secure in knowing that they were performing a necessary service and helping people on their road to fully recovered lives.

The therapists at the office and the hospital were impressed with Sarah, in return. She displayed care and gentle kindness with the patients, especially the geriatric and pediatric patients. All the therapists agreed that, once she graduated, she would make an excellent therapist. They had no trouble writing glowing recommendations and shadowing summaries for Sarah as her summer concluded.

It wasn't all work for Sarah, though. This was her last summer before graduation next spring. If … No, when she made it into the physical therapy program at Stanford, she'd start during summer quarter next year. There was only one week between the graduation ceremony and the start of the summer quarter. More, if she didn't walk for graduation. To hell with that. She had put in the effort, she was gonna walk for graduation, no question. That meant moving her stuff out of the dorm and into storage for a bit, a quick visit home, and then back the next weekend to move into a graduate dorm or apartment, she wasn't sure which yet. Too far off in the future. Sarah meant to make the most of her last summer of irresponsibility before real life set in next year.

Carina came over from San Diego proper almost every weekend to hang out at Sarah's house. If she didn't, Sarah was most likely over at Carina and her mom's place. Sometimes, Zondra would drive down from Brea in Orange County. Amy even made the haul down from Dublin, up east of Oakland in the Tri-Valley area, for the long Labor Day weekend near the end of their summer break. Then it was a party.

Mostly, it was hanging out at the Coronado Beach during the day, doing a little surfing, and ogling the guys. And being ogled in return, of course. That was part of the game. If she really wanted to surf, she'd take her board and drive up the coast to La Jolla or Blacks Beach for better waves. Better waves and better surfer boys. When Carina was around, that's where they'd end up sooner or later.

Sarah liked to flirt, have a little harmless fun. Carina was always on the prowl. Sometimes, Sarah thought Carina needed a leash. One of those that you attached to that stake you screwed into the sand. But she was more than a bit concerned that Carina would like the leash and collar.

Most weekend nights were spent out at any dance club they could get into. Sarah loved to dance. Armed with a pretty decent fake id that Carina had helped her find, she and Carina, sometimes Zondra, would dance the nights away. Having a blast.

One lazy Saturday afternoon on a weekend when Zondra made the trip down from Orange County, they were, all three, laying out working on their tans. Carina propped herself up on her elbows and scanned the people lounging and playing around them.

"Zondra and I have been working on your problem for you." She looked over at Zondra and winked.

"And which of my problems are we talking about today?" Sarah asked, knowing she didn't really want to know.

"You know, you're laying out, but 'not getting laid' problem." Carina grinned. Zondra just shook her head and closed her eyes.

"I don't have a 'not getting laid' problem. I have a 'not interested' solution. You, on the other hand, have a 'bad back from being on it too much' problem." Sarah snarked.

"She's not lying, Red." Zondra laughed.

Carina ignored them both, continuing to scan the beach. "There ya go, Blondie. That's the guy for you. 10 o'clock coming our way down the beach." Shielding her eyes, to get a better look, she pointed down the beach.

Knowing she would regret it, but also knowing Carina wouldn't stop until she played along, Sarah opened her eyes, slipped on her sunglasses and sat up. "Ok, which winner have you found for me this time?" Even Zondra sat up to watch the game play out.

Carina pointed, again. "Right there, that big husky boy with pretty gold chains."

Sarah squinted and shielded her eyes. Looking in the direction Carina indicated. "You talking about that wooly mammoth, man-boobs guy with like a million chains on? That guy?"

"Yeah, that guy. He's your Prince Charming. Gonna love you long time."

Sarah made a 'yeech' face. "The only thing that's going to be a long time is cutting that shag carpet off him. Jesus, is he even wearing a suit? His gut is so big and hangs so low I can't even tell."

Zondra started laughing so hard she fell back on her towel rolling around; tears in her eyes. Carina just grinned. "You are looking. And you didn't say no, Blondie."

"I'm just trying to figure out how to get all those gold chains off his neck. There's so many, I bet I could pay for school all next year what they're worth. How is he even walking upright?"

"Here's how you get those gold chains, Blondie." Carina leaned over and whispered something in Sarah's ear.

"Ewww. Gross. Even for you, Carina." Carina just cackled.

Sarah took one last look at the guy as he passed them down the beach, before she adjusted her purple bikini and laid back down. "Yup, wearing a suit, sorta. Better watch out, Carina. That speedo is stretched so tight, it might snap at any minute and smack you in the face. I'm sure you'd love some wooly mammoth butt grease to help you tan."

"Damn, Blondie. You're such a bitch sometimes." Carina faux whined.

All three friends started laughing at that and didn't stop until their sides hurt too much to continue. They ignored the looks people gave them, entirely.

The end of summer brought one more hurdle for Sarah to pass. She had to complete the GRE. Back in the day, she had done fine on the SAT, so she wasn't too worried. On September 4, just after Labor Day, Sarah was primed and ready. She walked in and powered through the test. After double checking the schools she wanted the test results sent to, she left confident she had gotten the job done. That evening Sarah celebrated with her family, mom, Jack, and Molly at their favorite Mexican place. One more thing scratched off the list and one step closer to getting into grad school.

Her final day as an intern was a week before she had to be back at Stanford. At the end of the day, everyone gathered for a going away party. Heather had handled all the arrangements.

There was a cake with 'Thanks and Good Luck' in icing on the top and punch with a little somethin' somethin' extra in it. It was ok, no kids were around. Except for Sarah. They'd gently teased her about that. She'd smiled and blushed, but was careful to only drink one cup of punch. There was a goofy card that all of them had signed wishing her good luck in the coming year.

Justine gave Sarah a small binder with all of the therapists and technicians business cards arranged inside in plastic holders. She told her to keep in touch and all of the therapists told her to feel free to call with any questions once she started in physical therapy school the next summer. They were sure she was a shoo in to get accepted. Sarah even exchanged phone numbers with Heather and they promised each other to keep in touch. What a turn around that was from high school. After hugs and tears all around, Sarah left. Her final summer was over.

Sarah packed her Sonata, kissed the family good-bye, and left for Stanford the afternoon before she was due back. The first leg of the trip was to head into San Diego and meet up with Carina. Together with Carina in her maroon Sentra, they caravanned the hour and a half up to Brea to spend the night at Zondra's place. Pulling up to Zondra's house, they found her waiting for them on the driveway.

"Woo Hoo," Zondra called. "We're finally freaking seniors! Yeah, baby!" Sarah and Carina got out of their cars and joined her in dancing and whooping it up in the front yard. Neighbors, out in the late afternoon, shook their heads smiling, remembering when they were that young.

"Ok, we gotta go to The Hat. It's tradition and I'm jonzing for some of them pastrami dip sandwiches and onion rangs. Yum! Delish. Delish." Sarah was practically drooling.

"Down girl," Zondra laughed.

"How can you eat like you do? And look like you do, Blondie?" Carina asked.

"Clean living," Sarah replied. "Which leaves you out."

"She's got ya again, Red," Zondra chuckled.

"Bitches," Carina grumped.

"Food NOW. Or I take no responsibility for my actions." Sarah warned.

"Ok, ok." Zondra laughed. "Your two cars are packed with crap, so to the Zondra-mobile."

"Duh-duh-duh-duh-duh," Sarah sang.

"You two are weirdos. Bitchy weirdos."

"You're not wrong. Now let's get in the damn car. Or something's going to die. And it ain't going to be me." Sarah commanded.

They piled into Zondra's black Wrangler and headed for The Hat and the promise of pastrami paradise. The annual ritual acted out to perfection one more time. Afterwards, they went back to Zondra's and watched cable movies, munched popcorn, and talked until they started to fall asleep.

The next morning, Sarah shook herself awake from the previous night's food coma and poked Carina.

"Up and at 'em, Red. We got some miles to go today."

"Is this how you're going to be all this year, Blondie? What time is it?"

"Maybe. That depends on how sorry your sorry ass is going to be this year. It's early, 6:30."

"Shit. What a bitch you are. You're taking this leader gig way too seriously. I need 5 more minutes of shuteye."

"Fine. I'm hitting the shower. I'll roust you out when I get back." Sarah grabbed her shower stuff and a towel and face cloth that Zondra's mom had laid out for them.

Carina fell back asleep as Sarah left the guest room made her way to the bathroom down the hall by Zondra's room. She gently knocked on Zondra's door. "Z, are you awake, yet? I'm getting in the shower and will be out in a few." There was a muffled 'K' from inside the room.

She quickly showered and was back in the guestroom in 20 minutes. After a bit more prodding and a lot more complaining, Carina finally got up and started her morning routine. Sarah toweled her hair and got dressed in jeans, tee-shirt, and sneakers. Her traveling clothes. She had just finished putting on some light makeup when Carina returned to the room. Carina started toweling her hair dry. Sarah quickly finished her preparations, packed up her few things, and left the room to give Carina space to get ready.

Carina came down to the kitchen while Sarah was out putting her bag back in her car. Zondra had made coffee. Fresh juice and croissants with homemade blackberry jam were on the counter. The three friends moved around each other in a well-practiced ballet, each preparing their food to their own liking.

"It's going to be a good year. Seniors. I can't wait." Sarah said.

"How's it going to be a good year, Blondie? You still can't drink." Carina teased.

"Ha Haaa. I got my fake id. I'll do just fine. So pfffht to you."

"I wonder what the group tryouts will turn up this year." Zondra mused.

"Always a mystery, until we get in there and hear them." Sarah shrugged.

"I wonder if any new, cute guys will be there?" Carina said thoughtfully.

"Carina, you have a one-track mind."

"At least I'm on the track, Blondie. You haven't even left the station."

"All in good time."

"Time's a-wastin' girl."

Carina grinned. Zondra snorted. Sarah just made a 'sheesh' face and shook her head.

After cleaning up breakfast, they all helped Zondra get her Jeep packed. Thanking her parents for putting up with them, they got in their cars and drove off. It was a six-hour drive to Stanford and their senior year. When their caravan hit campus, the first person they saw was Amy sitting on the hood of her red Malibu and waving at them. "Seniors!" she cheered.

Present – October 1

Sarah Walker was having a hard day. She glanced out the window and was reminded that the sun was still high in the sky. Night was a long way off. The day had started out hard; Sarah had had to meet with Dr. Diane Beckman, the Songbirds advisor, first thing that morning.

Dr. Beckman meant well and was nice most of the time. But she didn't hesitate to remind Sarah that she was now the leader of the Songbirds and their success, or failure, rested squarely on her shoulders. Twelve girls in the group and it all came down to Sarah. Great. Just great. No pressure. Not like she had school or anything. Oh well, it's what she signed up for when she accepted the vote at the end of the previous year that made her leader.

Then, in psychology class, Dr. Reuning had given out the project assignment for Fall quarter. He had suggested that she look into how the Tower of Hanoi was used in problem-solving research. He thought she might find it interesting. What was a Tower of Hanoi anyway? Her human biology stuff was pissing her off, too. Damn it! She had senioritis so bad right now. This thing with Beca wasn't helping her mood any, either.

Sighing, she turned back to the short brunette in front of her. The other girls, lounging around the room, listened and watched the discussion attentively. "Keep it together," Sarah told herself. "Biting people's heads off won't help."

"Beca, we've been over this before," Sarah said, the exasperation in her voice clear to everyone listening. "Acapella performances are typically either one long song or a mashup of two shorter songs for the allotted time. We haven't seen anyone do remixes or original songs."

"I know … I know, but if you would just listen to the kind of stuff I've mixed, you might like it." Beca said. "Maybe, doing something different might set us apart from the other groups and give the competition judges something new." A note of pleading entering Beca's voice as she finished.

Sarah sighed, again, and looked around at the other girls. "What do you guys think?" she said, catching the eyes of her three friends and suitemates arrayed behind her like a Secret Service bodyguard.

"She might have an idea there, Blondie," Carina said.

"Yeah, she might. Could be a risk, too," Zondra said. Earning her a half smile and head shake from Sarah that said 'some help you are'.

Amy just bobbed her head, smiled, and shrugged. Meaning the decision was Sarah's.

Sarah looked at the other girls in the room, but they all seemed to be concentrating on other things besides looking at Sarah. She blew out a breath and tilted her head back looking at the ceiling. It was the universal 'Lord give me strength' pose. "How did I end up here?" Sarah thought. "Oh … right …, I said 'yes'."

Sarah took another breath, held it, and blew it out slowly. She needed to calm down. No, she needed something to calm her down. Ease off the pedal of the stress machine in her head. An idea came to her how she might be able to solve the immediate problem. Nodding to herself, she turned back and looked at Beca.

"Ok, how about we do this," she said. "Work up a couple of remixes. A few? Work with anyone or everyone in the group. We'll listen to them all and see which one we like the most. Maybe two. Maybe. Not making any promises. How's that sound?"

"That sounds great, Sarah. Thank you." Beca smiled.

Sarah continued. "We'll practice your remix along with our regular stuff. Then, we'll try them out on audiences when we sing at events this fall. Whichever one the audience responds to the best, that's the style we'll pick to determine what we do in the competitions in the winter and spring. Maybe it's not a bad thing to take a risk and try something new. Ok?"

"Sounds fair," Beca agreed.

"Sound good, everyone?" Sarah turned to the girls arrayed behind her.

There were nods, 'Oks', and 'Sounds good' from around the room.

"OK, good. We've got a plan. Whew." She said, satisfied. "Now, here's wha—Huh?"

Sarah heard a noise and turned back toward the building's door. Someone was attempting to open it. The door was jerked open, a figure rushed in and turned, trying to close the door quietly. The figure squatted behind it and appeared to be listening for sounds outside and paid no attention to anything or anyone inside the room. To Sarah, the air suddenly felt charged, like during a summer storm. Just before a lightning strike.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" Sarah yelled, angry at the interruption.

The man, the figure looked like a man, froze.

Slowly, the man pivoted on the balls of his feet and faced into the room and stopped, again. He was in the shadow of the entryway and Sarah couldn't make out his features very well, but he appeared to be squinting or grimacing.

"I said, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Uh … I … uh," the man stuttered.

"Oh, get up off the floor and come into the light where we can see you." Sarah said, exasperated.

The man started to move towards the group while slowly standing up. He reached his full height just as he came fully into the light. The charge in the air was increasing. Sarah heard faint gasps from around the room.

"Oh, wow," gasped Amy.

Carina gave a low whistle.

"Holy …," said Zondra.

"Tall …," whispered Aubrey.

"Dark …," gulped Chloe.

The man made a face, a grimace. He absolutely grimaced.

"What's your deal?" she said, irritated.

Sarah focused on the man. Laser focused. She registered brown hair cut short on the sides, a mess of curls on top. He needed a haircut; the sides were growing out and starting to curl again. Tall. Soooo tall. Cute. Very. And … Eyes. Brown. Brown eyes. Dark brown eyes. Deep. Mysterious. Something sparking in their alluring depth.

She jumped into that depth. And was gone.

A/N4: The title from this chapter refers to an OMD song, Hard Day. Again, I thought the lyrics were appropriate. Thanks to WillieGarvin for taking the time to beta for me. You're the best.

A/N5: Full disclosure. I was originally going to set this story in 1998. The canon year Chuck would have been 18. That's why Chuck and Morgan were using CDs on their road trip to school, instead of just linking Chuck's phone to the car and cueing a playlist. The technology then was too primitive for what I wanted to write, so I moved the time up. Forgot to fix the CD thing. Sorry for the oversight. So, what year is the story set now? I have no idea, but the tech is neato, cool, and groovy.

A/N6: I've had physical therapy after knee and wrist surgery. Physical therapy has been a doctorate program since 1996 and takes 3-4 years depending on the program schedule. I know of a program that starts in the summer semester and goes straight through for 9 semesters. Beyond that, all I know is from searching online. If I'm off track with anything in this chapter or going forward, please let me know. Thanks.

A/N7: The rollercoaster is just at the top of that first big lift hill. Is everyone going to just stare at each other? Where's the crazy train that was following Chuck? Sarah asked questions, so what are Chuck's answers? Find that out in the next chapter. Please, stay seated and keep your arms and legs inside the car at all times. Answers are coming. I promise. Drop me a PM or a review. Let me know what you think. If you've gotten this far. Thanks for reading, again.