A/N: We're busy getting the band back together. It's time to go on a magical mystery tour. What will they do? Will it help? One thing's for certain, more than one life is at stake.
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck. I make no money from Chuck.
Chapter 31 – Bridge Over Troubled Water
Sunday April 28 – Stanford Hospital ICU – after 5:30am, the morning after Chuck's injury
Sarah stepped out of Chuck's room and turned to the nurse waiting outside, taking off her face shield. The nurse approached to assist her in removing the rest of the suit.
"Thank you," Sarah softly said. "Is it alright if my friends go in now? Once they get suited up, of course."
The nurse smiled sadly and shook her head, "I'm sorry, sweetie, but only family is allowed in there. One at a time. And you, of course."
"How do I rate?" Sarah wondered.
"After that entrance, you're going to ask me why you rate?" the nurse smirked. Sarah's cheeks reddened in embarrassment, again. "Honey, that's your man in there. I saw that in two seconds. The others behind you already knew that, I'm guessing," she patted Sarah's arm. "Besides, his family ordered us to allow you to be put on the approved list." The nurse chuckled. "Dora Parker, by the way. I expect we'll be seeing a lot of each other before this is all over." She held her hand out and Sarah shook it.
"Sarah Walker," Sarah said with a ghost of a smile, suddenly shy. "I expect we will be seeing a lot of each other. What are the visiting hours?"
"For you and the family? 24/7. Not exactly normal protocol, but his case is unusual, anyway," Nurse Parker said and Sarah nodded. "For everyone else, the hours are 8am to 7pm. After tonight, of course. And they'll have to content themselves with looking through the window." She indicated the long window next to the door that replaced the normal wall. "During visiting hours, the curtain will be drawn back so they can see him."
"They won't be able to go in?"
"Not while the doctors are still worried about infection," Dora shook her head. "Once they think the threat is past, they'll relax the restrictions a bit and allow people into the room, but only two at a time to start."
"How's Chuck's friend, Morgan Grimes, not on the approved list for now?"
"Simple. The hospital didn't want anyone besides family on the list, but they all insisted. The compromise was that one non-family member would be permitted. Everyone, including Mr. Grimes, said that you should be that additional person. Do you disagree?" The nurse watched the younger woman's face carefully. Sarah smiled, then frowned and started to cry. The nurse quickly handed her a tissue. Yup, the family had made the right decision.
"I feel so guilty," Sarah whispered. "Morgan's been Chuck's friend since they were little," she sniffled and blew her nose.
"Sarah, you love him. It's plain to see," Dora shrugged. "What kind of friend would this Morgan be if he stood in the way of that?" Unable to refute the nurse's logic, Sarah just nodded.
"If you say so," Sarah mumbled, reaching for another tissue, as she began to weep, her shoulders shaking, feeling everything crashing down on her. The nurse's heart went out to the distraught young woman, so Dora gathered her into a tight hug, gently patting her back.
"There, there," Nurse Parker murmured after a few moments. "Get it all out of your system." Sarah pulled back and looked at the nurse, surprised about her tone. "What? Do you think you'll have any time to cry after this? When your man is in there and needs you to figure out how to help him?"
Sarah huffed and blew her nose a second time. "Isn't that what you guys do? Figure out how to help him?"
"It is. It is. But in Chuck's case, I think it might take more than regular doctor medicine to bring him back."
"Like what?"
"I don't know," Dora shook her head and shrugged. "That's where you come in, I'm thinking."
Sarah took a shuddering breath and nodded. "You're right. I had an idea while I was in Chuck's room. I need to talk to his mom." She smiled at the brunette nurse. "Thanks for suiting me up and for letting me cry on your shoulder."
"It's all part of the job description, honey," the nurse grinned. "I'll see you later, no doubt. Now go figure out how to save your guy." Sarah nodded a final time, took some more tissues from the proffered box, and turned back to the group of waiting people. It was time to meet Chuck's parents.
Chuck is 10 years old; he's just finished his second year at UCLA and CalTech. It's late June in Burbank, California.
Chuck already had a bloody lip. One of Tommy Delgado's cronies had shoved Chuck to distract him and Tommy had taken that chance to punch him in the mouth. Why does this keep happening to me, he wondered? Yeah, Morgan and his mouth. The mouth not getting punched right then. Chuck shook his head to clear it.
"Whatsamatta, Fart-owski?" Tommy taunted. "Did that punch sprain yer brain?"
They were in the parking lot of South Weddington Park, where field number 3 was located. The Park was located just west of Universal Studios, flush against the Hollywood Freeway in the heart of Studio City. It was a good distance from Burbank, but the league had more teams and better competition than the leagues closer to home. Chuck and Morgan's Toluca Mustang League All-Stars team practice had just ended, but his mother, Mary, was late. She had tried to run an errand and get back in time, but had gotten stuck in traffic. That's what her text said, anyway. The boys had been hanging out waiting when Tommy and his 'gang' had shown up. Damn it.
Shaking his head again, Chuck stared at the other boy. "I'm good, Tommy. Thanks for asking," he tried to keep the smirk off of his face and almost succeeded. Almost.
"Screw you, Fart-owski," Tommy growled, taking another swing that Chuck easily avoided. Why had their coach had to leave so quickly? Chuck hated getting in these fights. If he could just delay Delgado long enough, his mom would show up and he and Morgan could escape. Until the next time. He didn't even care about them taunting him for being a 'momma's boy'.
But it was not to be. Tommy didn't like Chuck dancing out of the way of his attacks, so Delgado charged him, trying to tackle him to the ground. Chuck didn't understand why the shorter kid would try to do that. He merely stepped out of the way and pushed Tommy to unbalance him. Tommy fell down and his face, already showing signs of significant acne, scraped on the ground. There was blood and anger. Yelling. Someone else's fist hit the side of his head, blindsiding him. It hurt, causing him to stagger forward. The darkness took him.
Sunday April 28 - Stanford Hospital ICU – after 5:45am
Sarah walked toward where Chuck's family was waiting, but stopped off along the way to give her friends an update, first.
"How is he, Sarah?" Amy asked, the worry on her face being mirrored by the rest of the Songbirds.
"He's unconscious. All bandaged up," Sarah shrugged, trying to keep her emotions under control and mostly succeeding. Mostly. "There's wires and sensors all over him. They've stuck IV needles everywhere, pumping stuff into him." She sniffed, remembering how he'd looked just moments ago. "They've got an LTM … that's like an EEG … um … that they leave him attached to, to monitor his brainwaves."
"Any idea what that was showing?" Chloe asked. "I mean, we all know his brain is … ah … different."
"I didn't look at it too much myself, but the nurse in there said that his readings were unique," Sarah admitted. "I'm not sure what she was talking about, but I want to find out." She paused. "Oh, yeah. They put a probe in his head so they could keep an eye on the physical condition of his brain, too."
"So, old Chuckles is getting probed," Carina smirked, the memory from last fall clearly in her mind.
"Yeah," Sarah snorted. "I'll bet he'll love it when he finds out." That thought caused her to tear up again.
"Wait!" Zondra exclaimed. "A probe in his head?" Sarah nodded. "Does that mean they had to- "
"Shave his head?" Sarah finished. "Yeah, they did." She frowned.
"Too bad," the older brunette complained. "What am I going to call him now? Can't very well call him Curls, can I?"
"You better," Sarah scolded her. "He'll expect you to, when he w- wakes … UP!" Sarah squeaked out as her throat closed with emotion. She was quickly hugged by her roommates while the other Songbirds crowded around to offer their support.
"Come on, Blondie. Don't you lose it," Carina whined. "Or we'll all be crying our eyes out. Think of my makeup!" That got the laugh the redhead was looking for.
"Thanks, Red," Sarah sighed a smile. "I needed that." She nodded. "You're right. Crying won't help Chuck wake up. It's time I pulled myself together and got on with it." She extricated herself from the friendly scrum, took a deep, calming breath, and walked over to where Ellie, Devon, and an older couple waited. When she reached the small group, Ellie pulled her into another hug that they both held for a while, then she looked at the older couple and stuck out her hand.
"Hello, I'm Sarah Walker. I guess that you're Chuck's parents?" Sarah offered a wan smile while shaking their hands. "I wish we weren't meeting like this."
"Yeah, we are, Mary and Stephen," Mary replied while her husband nodded. "It is … ah … not how we wanted this to take place, either, but we are glad to finally be meeting you anyway. We'd hoped to be able to do that sometime this spring at a baseball game, but here we are." She frowned slightly, blinking rapidly, before regaining control of herself.
"I actually remember seeing you last fall when the Songbirds sang for the Cardinal Club during Homecoming weekend," Sarah said, then paused, recalling something. "Back when Chuck and I were just getting to know each other." She started to tear up again, so she pulled out another tissue and dabbed her eyes.
"Tsk, you poor thing," Mary said as she gathered Sarah into her arms for a comforting hug, squeezing tight. Ellie reached out to pat one shoulder while her father did the same to the other. The three of them shared a look and could see the same thing in each other's eyes. Devon looked on as a small smile flitted across his lips.
"I'm so worried about Chuck that I can hardly think straight and I can't seem to stop crying," Sarah whimpered. "I'm so sorry this has happened to him."
"We know, Sarah," Mary smiled gently. "You have the same look in your eyes that we have in ours. We'll all do whatever it takes to help Chuck get better, regardless of our worries."
Sarah wiped her nose and nodded, "That's so right. I had an idea while I was there with him, but I'm not sure if it makes sense or if it's just wishful thinking. It's why I was coming over here before I started with the waterworks again," she frowned and twisted her lips to the side sheepishly.
"What's your idea?" Mary wanted to know. "Talking through things beats sitting around here fretting." Sarah looked at each person in the small group, trying to think of what to say. After a moment, she spoke.
"To begin with, I don't think he's in a regular old coma," Sarah began. "The attending nurse said that the LTM readings were unique, but I didn't ask her to explain what she was talking about. I was … um … a little distracted," she coughed and the other four all grinned. Mary interrupted her before she could continue.
"First thing you need to know, Sarah, let's get this out in the open right now, is that we all know you have feelings, strong feelings, for Chuck. If we hadn't before, your entrance a little while ago would have proven that beyond all doubt," Mary chuckled lightly, holding up her hand. Sarah blushed. "I'm not asking you for any declarations or anything. I'm just trying to let you know that we know, so you don't have to be embarrassed about having those feelings for him and letting them show or for worrying about him. OK?"
"OK, I won't," Sarah smiled gratefully. "Or, at least, I'll try not to be." Chuckles.
"Sorry for the interruption," Mary grinned and apologized. "Continue on with what you were trying to tell us." Chuck wasn't kidding, Sarah thought, when he'd told her that his mother was pretty formidable.
"S- Sure … um … I was saying that I don't think he's in a regular coma. I'd like someone, who knows how to read them, to tell us what that LTM is showing. Is he in a regular coma or not? Have you seen his LTM reading? What do you think, Dr. Bartowski?"
"What do you think is going on then?" Ellie piped up.
"I think the pain of getting hit by that baseball caused him to lose control and all of his mental defenses are down. His mental closet doors are all open. All of them."
"You're saying-" Mary began, but Sarah finished the thought.
"Yes, I think all of his doors opened and all of the memories he kept locked in those closets of his are taking over his mind," Sarah nodded. "I think he's lost in the past. Maybe, lost in all of those bad memories. Maybe the good ones, too, but either way, he's lost."
"It's a possibility," Mary agreed. "I was thinking along those same lines, myself. I glanced at the LTM briefly and it didn't look like the reading of someone in a coma to me, but I don't have the specialized training to say for sure." Sarah nodded. "Let's say you're right and his doctors confirm that the LTM isn't showing readings for someone in a normal coma. What then?"
The corners of Sarah's mouth turned up in a tiny smile. "I'd like to conduct a simple experiment to see if Chuck can react to outside stimuli."
Ellie grinned and snorted, "You're perfect for my brother." Sarah gave her a closed mouth smile and shrugged. The others chuckled, then sobered.
"How do you see us doing that?" Mary wanted to know.
"Well, start by taking a reading of the LTM for a period of time," Sarah thought out loud. "Thirty minutes or an hour? I'm not sure. Maybe the doctors can help give us guidance there. Then when we have the baseline, we can each go in there one at a time for ten to fifteen minutes. Tell him who we are. Talk to him about recent stuff in his life that involves the person in the room with him. Make contact, touch his arm or hold his hand. Have the nurse get us the reading from the LTM for that time period and see if there is any difference from the baseline. I'd like Morgan and Devon to be able to participate, especially Morgan, but that doesn't look like it's possible with the restrictions in place."
"Probably not," Mary agreed. "Then what? Let's say we get those readings. What do you want to do then?"
"Hmmm. It would depend on what the readings tell the doctors," Sarah said, thinking through her idea. "Either they'll show that he reacts to us being in there and talking to him. Touching him. Or they won't. If they don't show him reacting, I'm not sure what to do. But if they do show him reacting, I'd like to do something to get his attention. Something he maybe could focus on to come back. To wake up."
"Like what, Sarah?" Ellie asked. "Only one person is allowed in there at a time. How can that help?" Mary was shaking her head while her daughter was speaking.
"You're not talking about people being in there with him are you, Sarah?" his mother questioned. "Or, at least, not just people in there with him." Sarah was shaking her own head.
"Before I answer that, I'd like to know what happened in the past when Chuck had one of these incidents," Sarah said. "When he got lost in his memories." She tilted her head expectantly as her gaze settled on the female Dr. Bartowski. Mary ran her hands through her hair, the exhaustion showing on her face. She wasn't as young as she used to be and she was really feeling it, not that she'd admit that to anyone.
"Well, let's see," she began, thinking back. "When he was little, before he learned any clear way to control himself, he'd just appear to faint or zone out." Mary shrugged. "I don't have a better way to put it."
"How did he come out of it?" Sarah asked. "What did you do to help?"
"When he was little? Nothing," Mary shook her head slightly. "He just woke up on his own after a short while. Stephen and I didn't know what was going on back then, but we hoped that it wouldn't get any worse." She frowned. "But it did."
"How?"
"Well, as he got older it took him more and more time to come out of it." Mary elaborated. "We started talking to him and touching him. Things like hugging him. Rubbing his back. Holding him and rocking. Gently patting his chest. Rubbing his head or tousling his hair. Shake his shoulder like we were trying to wake him up after him being asleep. Stuff to comfort him and let him know we were there."
"And that helped him wake up?"
"I can't really say one way or the other in any scientific way," Dr. Bartowski shrugged. "He did wake up and the length of his incidents didn't get any longer. But whether or not we had anything to do with it, I have no idea. He couldn't really tell us what caused him to wake up, either. It was around then, before Chuck started going to school, that we worked out his first mental defense so he could contain his memories, both the bad and the good ones, to try and avoid him having issues with school. We couldn't have known, at the time, what challenges school would hold for him, along with all of the promise."
"His mental library and the books full of his memories," Sarah nodded her understanding. Mary's eyes widened in surprise.
"He really did share a lot with you, didn't he?" She smiled. Sarah smiled a small sad smile, nodding.
"Has he ever had a catastrophic failure before, like he could be experiencing now?" Sarah asked.
"No," Mary shook her head emphatically. "He was getting closer and closer when he was in Boston and, then, England, but Stephen and I never knew that, really. Chuck only told us about that later. His headaches happening more and more often and getting harder and harder to fight off. It was then where my Daddy's friend, Cole Barker, helped him rework his mental defenses into the closets he uses now, along with the other skills he taught him." She paused, before continuing, "You need to know that Mr. Barker is coming here." Sarah raised her eyebrows at the news.
"I called my Daddy last night, while Stephen was working out how to get you and the rest of the Songbirds back to Stanford." Both women smiled at Chuck's father, who grinned crookedly and ducked his head, reminding Sarah of Chuck so much. "Daddy got in touch with his friend in England. We got a call from Mr. Barker a bit ago, while you were in with Chuck. He's agreed to help any way he can, so he and his wife, Gillian, have managed to book two seats on a flight leaving this coming Tuesday morning at 11am UK time that'll have them arriving at San Francisco sometime after 2pm our time." Sarah was doing the math in her head, when Stephen piped up.
"Eight-hour time difference between the UK and here. It's about an eleven-hour flight, nonstop from there to here, too," Stephen calculated. So much like Chuck. Mary chuckled, but Sarah nodded her thanks. She was too stressed out for math right then.
"You want him to help Chuck reestablish his mental defenses, if that's what's gone wrong?" Sarah asked, trying to confirm her suspicion. Mary was pleased at how quickly the younger woman had grasped her intent.
"That's it exactly. Stephen and I will take care of putting them up somewhere so he's available when Chuck comes out of this," Mary announced, closing her eyes briefly before opening them again and looking at the younger woman. "To that end, what was your idea to get him to focus, so he can come out of his … uh … coma?" Sarah nodded and told them.
"I was thinking we could get a bunch of people, who mean something to Chuck, and have them record stuff," she explained. "You know, Morgan could tell him stories about things that went on with the two of them from this year. Maybe some stuff from the past to get his attention, too. We could all do that. The baseball team. His coaches. Even bring in Mr. and Mrs. Colt from Maisie's restaurant. Chuck loves that place. They're friends of his, too. The Songbirds could sing him our songs from our competitions and other performances. Maybe, Maisie's band could play some of the Cajun and zydeco music he likes. Other people, too. I don't know. Try to get a bunch of stuff and load it onto his phone or something else and have it playing all the time on a loop so he can listen over his earphones. That way, he can still get input from all of us, but we don't have to be in with him all day, every day. I plan on being here all of the time that I can, but that's a lot to ask of other people." She saw that her four listeners were nodding their heads while they considered what she'd been saying. "Once they loosen the visitation restrictions, other people can pop in and spend time with him, too, doing what we've been doing." Mary was impressed and she wasn't the only one. She saw Stephen arching his eyebrows like he did when he was surprised by what he was hearing. Ellie was just sucking her lips in and nodding. This was something they could do.
"I'm impressed, Sarah," Mary smiled. "That's a lot to think up in so short a time."
The young blonde shrugged, running her fingers through her hair. "I just had this image, in my head, of Chuck being on a boat, lost at sea. He's looking for the beam of light from a lighthouse to guide him safely to shore. But he's unconscious, so he can't see anything. But if he can hear stuff, then, maybe, he can use the people talking to him and singing to be like a beam of sound instead of a beam of light so he can wake up and find his way back to … ah … me." She gulped.
"It's a good idea," Stephen spoke up. "How do you plan on getting people together to record stuff?"
"That's a good question," Sarah admitted. "I could ask Dr. Beckman if she could help on that front."
"I know some people who might be able to lend a hand," Chuck's father offered.
"Where? Here in Palo Alto?"
"Uh … No," he looked apologetic. "Back in LA." Sarah gave him a flat look, causing Ellie to giggle and Mary to snort a laugh.
"You've got the patented Bartowski 'don't be stupid' look down pat, Sarah. Doesn't she, dear?" Mary eyed her husband with amusement.
"No doubt about that," Stephen grinned crookedly. Sarah blushed and started to sweat, looking mortified.
"I'm so sorry, Dr. Bartowski," Sarah apologized, holding her hands up, placatingly. "I didn't mean to be rude."
"Don't worry about it, Sarah," the male Dr. Bartowski chuckled. "Mary's been giving me that look for years. I totally deserved it. I wasn't thinking clearly." He looked over and motioned for Diane Beckman and Roan Montgomery to join their quiet discussion. When the other couple arrived, he spoke. "Sarah, has a very intriguing idea, but she needs help from both of you."
"What's your idea, Sarah?" Dr. Beckman wanted to know. Sarah explained it to the two newcomers.
Sunday April 28 - Stanford Hospital ICU – the hours before 12:45pm
After a meager six hours sleep, quick showers, and rushed breakfasts, Drs. Kurtz and McSparren returned to the ICU just before 10am to check on their comatose patient. Most of the people waiting the prior night had been sent on their way by the family previously. The baseball coaches had a baseball game to coach that afternoon. The Songbirds, including the reluctant CATS, were bustled off to get some sleep after their whirlwind trip to New York and back. Beckman and Montgomery had taken their leave in the early morning with Diane saying something about a cooler and needing to get it into the freezer at Lakeside Dining. Morgan had insisted on staying, huddling with Alex, until she finally convinced him that he wouldn't be much use to Chuck if he was dead on his feet from lack of sleep. That left just five people.
The doctors were surprised to find the Bartowskis still huddling in the waiting lounge, along with their daughter's boyfriend, and fellow medical student, Devon Woodcomb. But it was the self-possessed young blonde woman who greeted them upon their arrival, who surprised them the most. Her name was Sarah Walker and she was Mr. Bartowski's girlfriend, newly back from the East coast with a curious idea. And a request that was more like a demand. Looking into her eyes, both men saw the steel there and could tell she would not be denied, so they had listened to what she had to say.
"A very interesting experiment you've laid out for us, Miss Walker," Dr. McSparren had diplomatically said after hearing the young woman's idea. Dr. Kurtz, being older and wiser, had just smiled and nodded. Both doctors had reviewed the LTM output and confirmed that they were definitely not typical for a comatose patient, who usually show minimal brain activity. This patient's brain was working overtime, which was most unusual indeed. "It is very possible that you are correct and that Mr. Bartowski isn't in a normal coma or even in a coma at all, but 'lost in his memories', as you said, due to his hyperthymesia."
A further thirty minutes of clean LTM readouts were collected while the ad-hoc team worked out how to conduct Sarah's experiment. They decided that Stephen should go first, followed by Ellie, then Mary, and finally, Sarah. The LTM output would be collected for each person's interaction from the moment they entered the room up to the time when the next person was almost ready to enter. That way the doctors would be able to see the impact of each visit and the subsequent 'cool-down' period Chuck experienced after each person left the room. For clarity's sake, the attending nurse would be out of the room for the duration of the experiment to minimize any other sounds or other inputs Chuck might react to that could throw the test off. She would be keeping a watchful eye on Chuck via the external monitors. It was also decided that the interval between visits, the so-called cool-down period, would be thirty minutes to make sure that there was little chance of any residual response on Chuck's part to a previous visit before the next one occurred. Altogether each visit and follow-up would last forty-five minutes per visitor.
With everything in place, Stephen had suited up and entered Chuck's ICU room at 10:30am. He'd spent his time talking to Chuck about their shared interests, including the train set they set up each Christmas, being sure to remind Chuck about how he'd designed the pegboard platform they built the set on and how proud he was of Chuck's accomplishment. Stephen asked him questions about his research and the state of his patent applications, baseball, Morgan, Coach Graham, anything he could think of that was recent. He'd told Chuck that he and Mary had been watching all of the Stanford baseball games that season and were looking forward to coming up to see him play in person as soon as he woke up, feeling guilty all the while for not doing so before now.
In trying to come up with things to say to his son, the elder Bartowski couldn't help but realize how much of Chuck's life he'd missed out on when he and Mary had decided to send him away to school. There were precious few recent memories he would share with Chuck to try to elicit a response. He did talk about how impressed he was with Sarah Walker. How beautiful and smart she was and how glad he was that Chuck had befriended such an impressive woman. Once his time was up, he held himself in check until Ellie was inside the ICU room after the cool-down period. Then he hugged his wife, unable to hide his tears of guilt and sorrow. Sarah had kept herself distracted by talking to Devon away from the forlorn couple.
Ellie had a better time of it, drawing on all of the times she and Chuck had spent together since arriving at Stanford. All of the fun times and the sad times, too. The dinners, the football games, the talks, and the arguments. The silly stuff from Thanksgiving and Christmas when she'd been missing Devon and he'd been missing Sarah. She teased and joked with him. She told him that she was so happy that they had been reconnecting, becoming friends, and getting over their childhood foolishness. How proud she was of him and what he was doing in school. How much she liked Sarah. How they had become friends.
Ellie talked a lot about Sarah. She never betrayed anything that Sarah had confided in her, but she talked all about Sarah's antics in the stands at baseball games and how she kept everyone entertained. She told Chuck about how Sarah was gathering all of his friends to help him, doing everything in her power to get him well. Ellie also talked about her feelings for Devon and how proud he was of Chuck. Anything she could think of from their months together at Stanford. Ellie begged Chuck to wake up so they could spend more time together, Devon and her with Sarah and him. The four of them together. She said so much in so short a time that she was drained when she left his room. Sarah gave her a hug before Devon wrapped his arms around her and let her vent her emotions.
Mary tried a different approach. Being Chuck's mother, as well as one of his early doctors, gave her a singular place in his life. The first thing she did, after entering his room, was to gently pat his face (where she could) and rub his shoulder, like she had done when he was a small child. She longed to run her fingers through his hair and scratch his head, like she'd also done back then, but his bandages and wires prevented her that reenactment. To hug him, but she couldn't do that either. So, she settled for what she could do, adding in singing some of the songs and telling him some of the stories she'd shared in those early years when it was time for bed. Mary had worked her way right through his life up to the present, talking about the good times and the tough times. Praising his strength in overcoming the challenges he'd faced all along the way. Her pride in everything he'd been able to do despite those challenges. She was sure to voice her delight that he'd found such a wonderful girl in Sarah and how she was looking forward to spending more time with his girlfriend, getting to know her better.
More than once, she had to pause to collect herself, when she, like her husband, was overcome with guilt over the impossible choices they'd been forced to make. Thank God, she thought, for Sarah Walker. Back during the holidays, it was clear that Chuck had already changed so much due to Sarah, the Songbirds, and the other people he'd met at Stanford. That was before Chuck and Sarah were even really a couple. Sure, they were in a relationship, even back then, but Chuck hadn't worked it all out until his holiday time was almost over. Mary was certain that Chuck had changed even more in the months since he'd been back at school and she longed for the opportunity to see for herself. She was sure that he still had something to work out about his feelings for Sarah, if Ellie was reading things correctly, which Mary suspected she was. Coming to Stanford had turned out just like Chuck had dreamed for all those years. As soon as she left Chuck's room and got rid of the annoying sterile suit, she fell into Stephen's arms while he did what he could to ease their shared pain.
Now it was Sarah's turn. She was nervous about going in and talking to him. Anxious to know if her experiment was a success or not, but everyone had agreed to not look at the LTM readouts until all four visits were completed, so as to not have anything alter how someone interacted with Chuck during their visit with him. Marji Eckert, Dora Parker's replacement when the shift changed at 7:00am, had helped get her suited up, before smiling and giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. Mary McClure, who'd replaced Danielle Fu, the other nurse, who'd been in the room during Sarah's previous visit, smiled and nodded her encouragement from where she was observing Chuck's status on the monitors outside his room. Sarah nodded, took a deep breath, and entered his room for the second time that day.
Somewhere and Nowhere
Chuck was confused. Where was he? There had fleeting images in his mind … recently? He couldn't tell. Memories? Reality? Dreams? He didn't know that either. Dad. Ellie. Mom. There and then gone again. He kept seeing blue eyes. Amazing blue eyes. And a dazzling smile. Nothing solid. Just an impression. Like looking through a cloudy glass. A feeling of warm, clear blue water that he just wanted to dive into and swim forever. It was there. Then gone again. Then back. Then gone. And once more. Chuck could not get his thoughts in order. Every time he tried to hold on to a thought, it slipped away like smoke on a breeze. Where were those eyes? He ached to see them again.
Sunday April 28 - Stanford Hospital ICU – 12:45pm (present time)
Sarah slowly walked up to Chuck's bedside. Taking a seat in the chair she found there, she reached out carefully and gently slid her gloved hand underneath his, curling her fingers around his palm, being sure to avoid all of the tubes and wires pin-cushioned into him. She instantly felt the pulse of their connection telling her that he was responding, knew she was there, on some level, even though he showed no outward signs of recognition. Hadn't moved at all, in fact. The thought of their connection, their bond, filled her with hope and caused her to smile so fiercely her jaw ached.
"I'm here, Chuck. It's me. Sarah. Your Sarah," she said, happier than she really should be, given the situation. "We all came back from New York to be with you. The Songbirds. All of us. We won, sweetie! We won. We're the champions. You were right. All along, you were right. We blew away the other groups. The girls all did great. I can't wait for you to see it. Our performance. It was amazing! The other groups were even dancing in the aisles while we were singing. They cheered us when we won. Just wait until you see the video. I expect an extra special victory dance, I can tell you." Sarah knew she was going overboard and being a bit silly, but Chuck had responded so strongly to their other performances she thought that talking about their championship might get a rise out of him now.
Sarah kept talking. She recounted their trip to New York and all of the things that the CATS had done the previous day. Was it really just yesterday? Sarah could hardly believe that just over twenty-four hours had passed since she and her roommates had been trying to keep Carina from sexily moaning in Katz's Deli, eating pizza, and enjoying a mostly carefree tour of Manhattan. It was bizarrely easy for her to regale her boyfriend with details of the friends' activities. Far more than she had done with her texts to him the previous day. Before she knew it, her fifteen minutes were up. It was time for her to go. To complete her experiment.
"I've got to go, my dearest," Sarah said, more than a little sad. "But don't you worry one bit. I'll be back very soon. I promise. You focus on my voice and come back to me. Please, Chuck. Please. I love you and need you to come back to me. I have so much to tell you. All I want is to be with you. You're amazing. You've overcome so much in your life. So many obstacles. I know that you'll find a way to come back to me, so we can be together." Nurse Eckert stuck her head in the door, wearing a mask, and got Sarah's attention. Her time was up.
"I'll be back soon, baby. As soon as I can," Sarah was getting choked up. "I love you, Chuck Bartowski. You be good. I'll see you before you know it." She gave his hand one final gentle squeeze before getting up and exiting the room.
Somewhere and Somewhen
…
Chuck was blinded. The sun was in his eyes. He walked forward until he could see again. Vague shapes surrounded him. Women?
A voice. A strong melodious voice! Who?
A woman. Blond hair shining in the sun. Tall.
Eyes. Blue. Blue eyes. Deep blue eyes. Sparking. Sparking like fire on the surface of a crystal-clear ocean.
Eyes that held him spellbound. And always would.
He wanted to dive into their endless depths, but they were gone. Only blackness remained.
Sarah! Those were Sarah's eyes! SARAH! I'm here! Where did you go? I need your help! I can't find you! Sarah, please! I can't live without you! …
What? …
Wait …
I can't, can I?
…
And Chuck finally began to understand. Then the maelstrom claimed him once more.
Sunday April 28 - Stanford Hospital ICU – after 1:30pm
Mary McClure brought the final LTM readout over to the doctors who were huddled in a small office behind the ICU nurse's station, along with the Bartowskis, Sarah, and Devon. They unrolled the readouts on the desk in order, top to bottom, starting with the baseline reading. It didn't take much time for both Dr. Kurtz and Dr. McSparren to notice that there were definite spikes in the readouts that corresponded to the time periods when the patient had the four visitors. Mostly smaller spikes on the first three, but still noticeably different from the baseline readings and the post-visit 'cool down' periods. There were some larger spikes in each of the readouts that were taken when Mr. Bartowski's family members were in his room. The doctors turned to the waiting people. Looking at Chuck's parents and his sister, Dr. McSparren spoke.
"Can any of you recall what you were talking about at these points in time?" he asked, pointing to the timestamps and the spikes. "These spikes represent Chuck reacting to something. The larger spikes represent a bigger reaction. Without any other changes in his surroundings, it's reasonable to conclude that he was responding to you being there and talking to him." There were gasps, smiles, and a few tears of joy. Sarah was right! But to answer the question.
"I can't say for sure, but those bigger spikes that might be the time I was talking to Charles about Sarah," Stephen smiled, his cheeks reddening.
"Same for me," Mary admitted with a small smile. Not surprised at all, if she'd been asked for her opinion just then.
"Me, too," Ellie nodded. She was both happy and sad to see that her readout held a lot more spikes than either of her parents. She guessed that was further evidence of how much she and her brother had reconnected recently and how much it meant to him. As it did to her.
The doctors nodded in a way that told the small group that it was what they'd expected to hear.
"That doesn't surprise me, considering," Dr. McSparren said.
"Considering what, Doctor?" Sarah asked before any of the others could.
"Considering this," McSparren grinned, directing everyone's attention to Sarah's readout. It was covered in spikes. Big ones.
"Oh my God!" Sarah exclaimed. "He knew! He knew I was there. He felt my hand. He heard me." She smiled and began to cry joyous tears. "It worked!" Then she began to laugh and the others joined her. First Ellie and then Mary hugged her fiercely.
"Yes, Miss Walker, it appears so," Dr. Kurtz nodded. "It did indeed work." He looked at Dr. McSparren who smiled and nodded. "You have my and Dr. McSparren's permission to proceed with your recording idea. We're both very interested to see what Chuck's reaction will be."
"Thank you, Doctors. Thank you," Sarah beamed.
"You are to be congratulated for thinking outside the box on this, regardless of the final outcome," Dr. Kurtz added. "You might have a future in research. We already know that you'll be joining us this summer in the PT program, so it's something to consider."
"Thank you, Sir," she blushed. "I can't say anything about the future beyond bringing my Chuck back. I hope you understand."
"Of course. Of course," the older doctor concurred.
"Speaking of the recording, Sarah," Mary interjected. "We're going to need to use more than one studio if you want to get a lot of recordings in a short amount of time."
"Well, Dr. Beckman already told us that we can use the practice rooms in the Braun Music Center, the studio in the CCRMA (Center for Computer Research in Music and Acoustics) building, and the audio recording studio in the Learning Hub in Lathrop Library," Sarah recounted. "So, we should be good on that front."
"Don't forget that there's two recording studios here at the Medical School," Dr. McSparren chimed in. "They're located in the Li Ka Shing Learning and Knowledge Center. I'm sure, given the situation and the fact that it's medically related, we should be able to secure you some time in one or both of those rooms fairly easily."
"I'm not sure I know where that is," Sarah said awkwardly.
"I know," Ellie commented. "It's the same building where the Medical School bookstore is located. It's pretty close to where they're putting up Chuck's new building. I'll show you, Sarah." She winked and gave her friend a thumbs up.
"Great!" Sarah smiled. "Now, all we have to do is work out who we want on the recording and what we want them to do. And then schedule it all in the next day or two. No problem." She looked a little shell shocked, having given voice to the list of tasks before her. Mary patted her arm and gave her a side hug.
"Don't worry, Sarah," Mary tried to dispel her worry. "You're not in this alone. Stephen and I are here to help. I know Diane and Roan will, too. There's more people besides them, as well." The older woman nodded. "We'll get this worked out; you'll see." Sarah nodded and sighed in relief. She wasn't alone, but she wasn't yet aware of the army gathering outside, waiting on her.
At that moment, Laura Turner poked her head in the office door. Diane Beckman and Roan Montgomery could be seen just outside of the room.
"We're here to lend a hand," Laura said. "Craig and Langston send their regrets, but they'll be here after the baseball game and they're finished with their responsibilities there."
"Come on in," Dr. Kurtz waved his arm. "Clark and I are just leaving to check in on other patients," he said, getting up, followed by Dr. McSparren.
"One question before you go," Mrs. Turner held up her hand. "Are you planning on a news conference or announcement about Chuck's status?" She looked at the two doctors. "My office and Langston's have been fielding calls from reporters for the last hour or so. Some people here at Stanford, too. Both students and faculty."
"We hadn't discussed that with the family, yet," Dr. Kurtz said, looking contrite. "Although, we had planned to. Miss Walker's experiment took all of our attention." He smiled. "Happily so, as it turns out."
"What are you talking about?" Laura wanted to know.
"We'll fill you in later, Laura," Mary said.
"To answer your other question," Dr. Kurtz continued. "How does 5:00pm sound to everybody? Dr. McSparren and I will come back after rounds so we can work out what we plan on sharing with the public about Chuck's situation. OK? We'll have to get the hospital's PR department involved, too. News conferences are their territory." Stephen and Mary shared a look, nodding.
"That makes sense to us, Doctor," Stephen. "We'll see you in a while."
"Until then," Dr. Kurtz nodded as he and his fellow doctor left the room.
Sarah looked around at the other seven people in the room. It was a bit crowded and she was the youngest one there, but it couldn't be helped. She wasn't ready to leave just yet and she knew none of Chuck's family was either. We do our planning here, I guess, she thought to herself.
"The first thing we need to do is figure out a list of people who we want to create a recording for Chuck," she said, drumming her fingers on the table. "And that means I need to call the Colts to let them know what's going on, if they don't already know, and ask them if they are available to record something. The band from their restaurant, too. The other people that come to mind to take part are all connected to us at Stanford and it should be easier to get in touch with them."
"After the results of your experiment, Sarah, you do realize that you're going to have to be on that recording a lot," Mary said.
Sarah nodded, "I was thinking the same thing. I'm not sure what makes the most sense, yet, but that's something we can figure out here. As soon as I make that call." She pulled out her phone and dialed Miss Maisie's number. It was answered on the first ring.
"Miss Maisie? It's Sarah Walker," she said.
"We been waitin' on y'all's call, Miss Sarah. We done heard what happened," Miss Maisie replied.
"We … I need to ask for your help, if you can, that is," Sarah said cautiously.
"Of course, y'all does. Of course. Whatever you need. Anything. How be Chuck?"
"I'll tell you all about that and what we're thinking about doing," Sarah said as brought Miss Maisie up to speed about Chuck's condition, then she outlined her plan to help him.
"That makes sense ta me, Miss Sarah," Miss Maisie agreed when Sarah had completed explaining her idea to the older woman. "Michael and Ah will be happy ta talk ta Chuck on y'all's recording. We'll come on over der a bit later 'round dinner time with some food, too. Ah cain't let y'all keep eating that there hospital food while you be watchin' over Chuck. Y'all more than likely end up right beside him, if you do." Sarah smiled at Miss Maisie's firm insistence.
"Don't y'all worry none, neither. We be callin' our reverend over at our AME Zion Church. He's in tight wit the Lord. We done told him all about Chuck back in da fall. He been askin' the Lord to keep an eye on that boy fer a while now. Having him put in a good word cain't hurt none, know wut Ah mean? Mebee git our choir to sing some, too. Dey's got powerful voices. Chuck be sure ta hear them. If all dat is OK with you, o' course, Miss Sarah." Miss Maisie finally stopped to take a breath. Sarah's eyes had filled with tears during the restauranteur's declaration. Her willingness to do everything she could and to convince others to help, as well, was almost overwhelming to the younger woman.
"Thank you, Miss Maisie. Thank you," Sarah gushed, smiling through her newest tears. "We'll take all the help we can get."
"You got it, Miss Sarah," Miss Maisie confirmed. "Ahs got ta go, but we'll be seein' y'all right soon. Promise."
Chuck is about to start school for the first time. It's late August in Burbank, California.
"I'm not gonna be in kindergarten with you, Morgan," Chuck said sadly. They were close to the same age, only a few months apart, and Chuck had been hoping to make a friend. Hoping so much.
"Why not?" his new friend wanted to know.
"I dunno exactly," Chuck shrugged. "After we took those tests for kindergarten the other week, the school called my Mommy and Daddy in to talk. When they got home, Mommy told me that I needed to take some more tests," he frowned. "So, I did. And now I can't go to school with you, like we planned."
"Where are you going, Chuck?" Morgan asked.
"They're sending me to big school. First grade," Chuck sighed and shrugged again.
"Big school! That's neat." A smile.
"I dunno, Morgan," Chuck pouted. "How can we still be friends if we aren't in kindergarten together?"
"Aren't you allowed to like cartoons in big school?"
"As far as I know, big school doesn't care about cartoons. So, I guess I can still like them." Another sullen shrug.
"OK. What about Star Wars? Can you still like Star Wars?"
"Sure. I mean, I guess so," Chuck frowned and twisted his lips sideways. "I don't think they care about Star Wars, either. But I do know they won't let kids bring Star Wars stuff to school with them. My big sister, Ellie, told me that. She knows all about big school."
"That makes sense. I wouldn't want my Star Wars stuff to get lost or busted at big school, anyway," Morgan nodded.
"Me neither."
"OK, so it's OK for you to still like cartoons and Star Wars." Chuck nodded. Morgan thought hard. "What about comic books? I know that I'm only learning to read them a little bit, but I sure do like looking at the pictures. You told me you liked comic books, too. You told me that you could even read them already. Is that still going to be true? Are you still going to like comic books once you go to big school?"
"Course, Morgan," Chuck scoffed. "I love comic books. Just like I told ya."
"Then what's the problem?" Morgan asked. "If you can still like cartoons 'n Star Wars 'n comic books in big school, why can't we be friends? We can't do any of that stuff in kindergarten or big school anyway. We'd be doing all of that after school or on the weekends, wouldn't we?"
"Yeah, you're right, Morgan," Chuck nodded.
"So there," Morgan laughed and clapped his friend on the back. "Don't worry about it. Who cares about dumb ol' school? That's just stuff we hafta do during the week. There's still lots of time for the stuff we really like doin'. We're gonna be best friends, you'll see."
Chuck smiled in agreement, but he still feared that Morgan would be wrong in the long run and their friendship was doomed. He turned to ask Morgan what he wanted to do next, but the world didn't look right. It was shredding apart like a torn picture. Blackness seeped in and obliterated everything.
…
Chuck burned with shame that he had ever doubted Morgan and the blackness consumed him, shame and all.
Sunday April 28 - Stanford Hospital ICU – a bit before 5:00pm
Morgan and Alex had shown up a little while ago, not very long after the baseball game was over. Stanford had won again. This time by a score of 15-5 to go along with Chuck's game from the day before, which the team had managed to close out 13-3 despite having to deal with their teammate's horrific injury. Or maybe because of it. Either way, the baseball players were fired up and had taken two out of the three games from the Arizona Wildcats. Morgan told Sarah that the rest of the team would probably be arriving to see Chuck before too long. The three of them were standing in the hall together, looking through the window into Chuck's room. Sarah had already told the CATS, Morgan, and Alex her idea about the recording. All agreed it was worth a shot. Anything to help Chuck. She had just gotten done letting the couple know about the outcome of the LTM tests that had taken place earlier that afternoon.
"You seem unsure about something, Sarah," Morgan observed.
"That's because I am," she admitted. "The tests showed that Chuck had a very strong reaction to me. Either his family talking about me or me, myself, holding his hand and talking to him."
"And you're surprised about that, why?" Morgan asked, smiling.
"Yeah, Sarah," Alex giggled. "Awake or unconscious, you have an impact on Chuck. That's got to be a good thing. Right?"
Sarah snorted, but bobbed her head side-to-side. "Of course, I love that I get that kind of reaction out of him. But how can we use that? Take advantage of it to help him wake up?" She looked at her two friends. "I mean, I'll be on the recording singing with the Songbirds. Singing solo, too. Talking to him. But his mom was telling me that she thought I would need to be on the recording a lot. More than just what I was thinking about doing. I'm not sure what else I should or could do. You know?" Sarah shrugged. Morgan's eyes widened as he thought over what she had just said, then he grinned and snapped his fingers.
"You should be the host of the show, Sarah!" Morgan said enthusiastically.
"What?"
"C'mon. You know. The host," Morgan held his arms out palms up. "Like in those old music video programs on TV or those comedy shows. There's a host that does a little comedy bit and then introduces the next performer. You could do that. Tell Chuck a story about the two of you. Or sing him a song. Whatever. Then say something to introduce what's happening next."
"That's a great idea, Morgan," Sarah said, growing more animated as she thought it over.
"It's a lot of extra work for you, though," Alex noted.
"Yeah, it is," Sarah agreed, "but what choice do I have?"
"Don't worry about it, Sarah," Morgan smiled. "I'd be happy to help you work out some bits you can do. Some stories. There're so many things that've happened during the year. When you first met. Carina's teasing at football games and dinner. Your sprained ankle. And on and on," he grinned. "And on …"
"He's not wrong," Alex smirked.
Sarah giggled. "Yeah, you're right, Morgan. There is a lot of stuff. It'll actually help me to spend time thinking about all of those wonderful memories so I can talk about them to Chuck. Thanks."
Chuck is 17 years old, at the end of his year at Cambridge University. It's mid-June in England.
Chuck was looking forward, believe it or not, to going back home. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he was feeling burnt out. Very burnt out. He loved learning new things, but lately it had become something of a grind. His living like a monk after the Alex Forrest fiasco the prior spring hadn't helped. Chuck had no social life outside of the things the Barkers included him in. They included him a lot, did everything they could, actually, but it wasn't the same. He and they knew it and he didn't blame them for his predicament, either. That didn't do much to make it any easier to endure, though. Chuck was well aware that he was a teenager and his supposed smarts couldn't do anything about the hormones raging through his system. Being in school with someone like Adelbert de Smet didn't help, either.
Adelbert de Smet was the definition of a ladies' man. Tall, athletic, and so handsome that it bordered on pretty. He was intelligent, witty, urbane, and, most importantly, glib. Adelbert could turn a phrase quicker than he could turn women's heads. Chuck had learned very early in his Cambridge year not to try and verbally spar with the Belgian. While de Smet was glib, Chuck was anything but. It had only taken one verbal duel for the young Californian to learn that Adelbert could wield words to cut as easily as Alexandre Dumas' Aramis wielded his sword. After that fraught encounter, Chuck had kept his distance and his mouth shut.
Not that it mattered, because for whatever reason de Smet seemed to delight in tormenting the teenager. The Belgian was a full-on PhD student, studying Clinical Neuroscience, and ten years Chuck's senior. He had women dripping off his arms like icicles on a warm day. Still, the older man took every opportunity to belittle and embarrass Chuck. Sought him out, in fact. To Chuck's mind, de Smet was the very definition of a wanker. That was another thing Mr. Barker had taught him, not so inadvertently, to go along with all of the very useful things over the last two years. He knew he could beat the older man if it ever came to physical violence, but that small victory wouldn't gain Chuck anything in the long run, so he'd refrained. And endured. Like now.
"How are things with you, young Chuck?" de Smet smirked. His ever-present coterie of female students giggled.
"Fine, Adelbert. Fine," Chuck said noncommittally.
"Does that mean you've managed to secure a date for the graduation bop?" The Belgian asked innocently, referring to the upcoming fancy dress party for the graduating students. "I'd be very curious to meet the girl who'd agree to such an arrangement with you." He chuckled to the accompaniment of more feminine giggles. Chuck's cheeks burned with embarrassment and shame. His companionless existence was common knowledge. Very common knowledge. Somehow the events at Oxford had been made known to certain people at Cambridge. The wrong people, unfortunately.
Chuck didn't understand why de Smet seemed to delight in constantly bringing up his abysmal dating history. He was not and never had tried to be any kind of competition with the older student when it came to entertaining young women. It was no contest. None. To Chuck's mind there was no point in the endless teasing. Except cruelty. He actually pitied any woman who spent time with de Smet because that cruelty was sure to come out, sooner or later, he thought. For himself, Chuck had had enough. And said so.
"Ha. Ha. Funny, de Smet. You know that I don't have a date. It's well known that girls here at Cambridge have no interest in me. I'm too young for anyone to be interested in. I don't know why you insist on making fun of me for it," Chuck frowned and shook his head.
"It just goes to show you why it's a bad idea to send children to university. They should stay back in primary school where their wet nurses can take care of them," he sneered. "Isn't that right, my dears?" The older man smiled benignly at his current circle of femininity. He laughed cruelly while his entourage harmonized their derision. Chuck gritted his teeth as he walked away. He looked back once only to see blackness pouring from the eyes, noses, and mouths of his tormentors.
…
This time, Chuck welcomed the darkness when it engulfed him.
Sunday April 28 - Stanford Hospital - Conference Room – 5:00pm
The conference room wasn't large by any means, but the hospital PR department had insisted that they set up a podium and a microphone. Sarah thought it was over-the-top, but wasn't going to argue. There were only a few people in the audience attending the conference. The local TV and radio channels were represented. As were the newspapers, including the student-run Stanford Daily. She recognized that reporter who'd been following Chuck last fall, Bill Krug from the Palo Alto Daily Post, in the small crowd. Stanford's TV and radio stations also had people there. Along with cameras and video recorders. Sarah was sure the word would get out.
It had been decided that Lisa Pendley, the hospital spokesperson would open the press conference. She'd introduce all of the speakers and then turn it over to them. The three doctors, Kurtz, McSparren, and Green would each speak, followed by Laura Turner. Laura would turn things back over to Lisa when it was time to open the floor for questions. The Bartowskis, Devon, and Sarah were going to be present, but there was no plan for any of them to speak. Sarah had other ideas, though.
"Hello, my name is Lisa Pendley, the Stanford Hospital spokesperson. We are here to provide an update on the status of one of our patients, Mr. Charles Bartowski. It is not standard practice for the hospital to give out private medical information about our patients, but the patient's family understands that the university community has some interest in Mr. Bartowski's condition given his position with the Cardinal baseball team and the public nature of his injury. To that end, I have with me this afternoon, the team treating Mr. Bartowski as well as Mrs. Laura Turner, Director of Operations for Cardinal baseball. Each of them is going to say a few words and I would ask you to, please, hold all questions until after all of them have concluded their remarks," Ms. Pendley finished, turning to Dr. Kurtz and gesturing at the podium. "Doctor? Please." The older man nodded and took his place at the microphone.
"Good afternoon. My name is Dr. Charles Kurtz. I'm a neurosurgeon and am heading up the team treating Mr. Bartowski. Working with me in that effort are Dr. Clark McSparren, neurologist, and Dr. William Green, plastic surgeon." Dr. Kurtz went on to describe the nature of Chuck's injury, the CT scan results, and the surgery before turning it over to Dr. Green to give an overview of the plastic surgery he'd performed to repair Chuck's lacerated skin. Dr. McSparren was the last of the team to speak and he informed the reporters about Chuck's coma and the ongoing efforts to determine its cause and allied attempts to revive the young man.
No one made any mention of Chuck's hyperthymesia, in keeping with Stephen and Mary's (and Chuck's) long standing wishes to keep that detail from the public eye. Sarah's project was mentioned in the most general terms and it was implied that it consisted of his family and girlfriend sitting with him and talking to him. Word about the recording effort would get out soon enough, but everyone involved hoped that would not take place until it was completed and Chuck was able to benefit from it.
The last to speak was Laura Turner. She didn't add much beyond recounting the fact that Chuck's teammates and coaches along with everyone involved in Cardinal sports were saddened by his injury and asking everyone to offer whatever support for his recovery they felt appropriate. Lisa Pendley took over to verify that her office should be contacted with any medical questions about the case while Laura's office would be the point of contact for anything dealing with the baseball team. Then she opened the floor for questions. The first one, predictably, came from Bill Krug. It was directed, somewhat unexpectedly, to Sarah. Good, she thought. Here's my chance.
"Miss Walker, I noticed that you weren't given any time at the microphone," the reporter frowned. "It's well known that you are the leader of the Bartowski Backers cheering section at the home baseball games and are Chuck Bartowski's girlfriend. Do you have any comments you wish to make?" Lisa Pendley frowned at the opening Sarah was being given, but yielded the microphone none-the-less. The younger woman smiled as she stepped forward.
"Thank you, Mr. Krug," Sarah began. "Yes, I would like to say a few things. First, I want to thank everyone who worked so fast to get Chuck to the hospital as quickly as they did. His friend Morgan Grimes, his sister Ellie Bartowski, Coach Graham, Mr. Moortgat, and Devon Woodcomb, as well as the EMT team. All of them did everything they could to help Chuck and I wanted them to know how much we all appreciate it. The staff in the emergency department, the technicians, the doctors and nurses who operated on him, and the fierce nurses in the ICU," she blushed and grinned to chuckles around the room. "Everyone has put Chuck's health and recovery at the top of their priority list and I couldn't be more grateful. His family and I are doing everything in our power to help him, too. I would ask everyone watching or hearing this to do something, as well. Whatever you believe, please offer Chuck your kind thoughts, well wishes, positive energy, good vibes, love, or prayers. This school, this town, you people mean the world to him," Sarah was tearing up and her throat was closing with emotion. "I'm asking everyone to show Chuck what he means to you. Please. Please." She paused to gather herself. The hospital spokesperson mistook it to mean that she was finished, but Sarah held up her hand. "I would also say that they had to give Chuck blood transfusions during his surgery yesterday. If any of you could see your way clear to donating some of your blood to help Chuck and other patients, I'm sure the hospital would be grateful. Thank you." She stepped back from the microphone and into the loving arms of Chuck's family for everyone in the room to see.
The general had made her first call to arms. The response to her second request was nothing short of astounding. While Lisa Pendley hadn't approved of Sarah getting the microphone during the news conference, she couldn't complain about the results. First in ones and twos, then tens, and, before the week was out, eventually hundreds would answer her call. So many people donated blood that the hospital and local Red Cross banks were well stocked for some time.
Sarah would soon see the results of her first request with her own eyes.
Sunday April 28 - Stanford Hospital ICU – after 7:00pm
The Colts had arrived not too long after the news conferences concluded. They'd politely asked Ms. Pendley if they could utilize the conference room for a while longer to feed Chuck's family and friends. They were sure to include the doctors present in the room and the nurses in the ICU in the invitation. When Miss Maisie extended the invitation to include the spokesperson, herself, permission was quickly given.
They'd brought enough food to feed a crowd of people. It was a good thing, too, because a crowd had mushroomed out of nowhere. The baseball team and their girlfriends. The coaches and their families. The CATS and the rest of the Songbirds, plus their significant others. Not to mention Chuck's doctors and the nurses working in the ICU. A host of people. The able-bodied worked together to set up tables and arrange chairs, while the Colts and their team set up a buffet line of warming trays featuring all of their most delectable and popular dishes. Everyone enjoyed the food and the recording of the restaurant's band that Mr. Colt had set up to play. Hot plates were carried to the dumbfounded nurses working in the ICU and their replacements when the shift changed at 7:00pm. As the meal wound down, Sarah sidled up to the smiling couple.
"Thank you for such a wonderful meal, Miss Maisie. Mr. Colt. After the last couple of days, it's wonderful to be able to sit and eat a normal meal and have almost normal conversations," Sarah smiled a heartfelt smile.
"Y'all's more than welcome, Miss Sarah," Miss Maisie replied while she was hugging the younger woman.
"Looking at all of those smiling faces, you might just get some new customers, too," the blonde grinned.
"We may be helpin' Chuck and his people, Miss Sarah. But we ain't dumb neither," Mr. Colt laughed or ground rocks or something. Sarah actually giggled as she hugged the huge man. "Hey, don't squeeze me so tight," he teased and she snorted. With people like these, she just might get through this.
"Once we get this here mess cleaned up, can we go up and see Chuck fer a spell?" Miss Maisie asked.
"It's getting late for visiting hours, but I'll be sure to ask," Sarah said. "You are part of Chuck's extended family, too, so I expect we'll be able to make it happen. First, I need to talk to all of these people about our recording idea and get them to agree to take part."
Sunday April 28 - Stanford Hospital ICU – after 9:00pm
Sarah's after-dinner talk had been a huge success. All of the people in the room had agreed to take part. She had presented a recording schedule and after some discussion and a few changes, everyone knew when and where they should go to record their part. Then there had been a small parade of people who'd wanted to visit the ICU and look in on Chuck. It was tough for a lot of the players and coaches to see someone they knew to be so vibrant and full of life lying unmoving in a hospital bed. More than one man, both younger and older, shed unashamed tears before taking their leave. The Colts and their crew had a particularly difficult visit. They'd spent some time at dinner talking quietly with Stephen and Mary. Sarah didn't know what was said, but there were a lot of smiles and hugs, some tears as well. They both cried when they saw Chuck laid so low and whispered fervent prayers that he be blessed with a speedy recovery. After emotional hugs for her and Chuck's family, they, too, left. What Sarah and the others didn't know is that they didn't go very far.
What Sarah and the Bartowski's did know was that they were exhausted. Langston Graham and Anna were getting ready to take Stephen and Mary home with them. Casey and Kathleen had volunteered to drive Ellie and Devon back to the baseball field where their car was still parked since the afternoon of the previous day. Sarah was going to join the CATS who were waiting downstairs for a companionable walk back to the dorm. She was exhausted. The next few days were going to be filled with recording and organizing the program for Chuck. And that was on top of her schoolwork. As much as she didn't want to think about it, she did still have requirements she had to meet in order to graduate. Danielle Fu was just getting ready to suit her up for a final visit with Chuck when three men arrived in the ICU together. Sarah recognized the first man. He was Colin Bainbridge, Stanford's president. She didn't know the other two men. The trio walked right up to Stephen and Mary.
"Stephen. Mary. I'm so sorry to hear what's happened," President Bainbridge said. "Miguel and I just got back from a conference. We came over as soon as we could."
"Dr. Bainbridge," Stephen acknowledged and shook hands before turning to the second man. "Miguel", he said, shaking hands once more. Then he turned to the third dark-skinned man. He was impeccably dressed and very distinguished looking. "I don't think we've met before," Stephen said, offering his hand to shake.
"No, we haven't. But I do know about your son, Chuck," the man said, shaking Stephen's hand. "My name is Reverend Horace Snodgrass. I'm the pastor of University AME Zion Church over on Middlefield Road. The Colts are members of our congregation. They've told me a lot about your son. I've seen him play some, too. I'm sorry to be meeting under these trying circumstances." Stephen nodded, then started.
"Where are my manners?" He turned slightly to indicate Mary. "This is my wife, Dr. Mary Bartowski." He waved his arm to indicate Ellie, Devon, and Sarah. "And this is my daughter, Eleanor. Her boyfriend, Devon Woodcomb. And Charles' girlfriend, Sarah Walker. These gentlemen are Dr. Colin Bainbridge, Stanford's president. Dr. Miguel Loveless, Dean of the School of Engineering. And Reverend Horace Snodgrass." Handshakes all around.
"I've heard a lot about you, too, Miss Walker," Reverend Snodgrass smiled. "The Colts are most impressed, I must say." The other two men nodded their agreement. Sarah blushed.
"Thank you, Sir," Sarah said. "But Chuck is the one who's impressive."
"Oh, I don't know about that," Dr. Bainbridge disagreed. "We all heard what you said earlier at the news conference." The others agreed.
"I didn't do anything, except ask for kind thoughts and prayers. And for people to donate blood if they were willing," Sarah shrugged.
"You haven't looked outside then, have you?" Bainbridge looked around at the small group. Sarah shook her head, confused. "Any of you?" More head shakes and confused looks. He smiled and motioned for them to follow him. They arrived at a window that looked out on the entryway to the hospital. The entire space, from the building they were in, all the way across to the other main hospital building, was full of people. Baseball players. The CATS and the Songbirds. The Colts. Many, many others. An army. Some were holding candles while others held their phones with the light application turned on. Right in front was a full gospel choir wearing their robes. They were singing. Everyone filling the space was singing.
"That's the choir from our church," Reverend Snodgrass said quietly.
What was everybody singing? Sarah was curious. It sounded like a hymn. It had the rhythm and tempo of a hymn. But it wasn't a hymn. It was a song that everyone knew. A most appropriate song, but it was being sung in a very different way. Everyone watching held their collective breath so they could hear the slow, reverent words. Meaningful words. Words sung with voices full of love and support. Words for Chuck.
Take me out to the ball game,
Take me out with the crowd;
Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack,
I don't care if I never get back.
Let me root, root, root for the home team,
If they don't win, it's a shame.
For it's one, two, three strikes, you're out,
At the old ball game.
A/N2: Chapter title comes from the song by Simon and Garfunkel. Very appropriate lyrics for Sarah helping Chuck. She really is his bridge over troubled water easing his mind. I encourage everyone to find it online and listen, particularly the original recording at Carnegie Hall or the later one from the Concert in Central Park. Great song.
A/N3: PONY (Protect Our Nation's Youth) baseball is a youth baseball organization similar to Little League. The different age brackets are named after types of horses, with Bronco (ages 11-12) being the equivalent to the more famous Little League (ages 11-12), but they play on a larger field than Little League uses. Mustang (ages 9-10) is the PONY league that uses the Little League-sized fields. Yes, that's a dig at LL.
A/N4: WillieGarvin is my bridge over troubled prose. Thank you, my friend, for all of your help and advice.
A/N5: Thank you for reading. Please drop me a PM or leave a review. Let me know what you think. For those of you who have left reviews or PMs previously, thank you. I appreciate each and every one of them. Thank you to everyone who has followed or favorited this story.
A/N6: If you enjoy Chuck fan fiction here on the fanfic site, go over to Facebook and join the Chuck Fanfiction group that's there. You'll find nice folks who share your interest in our favorite spy couple. You are not alone.