A/N: The recording so many people worked to create is now playing. Sarah hopes Chuck is listening. What is he experiencing? How are his friends holding up?
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck. I make no money from Chuck.
Chapter 33 – With a Little Help from My Friends
Chuck is 7 years old, currently in the sixth grade. It's late May in Burbank, California.
Clyde Decker tripped Chuck as he tried to walk out of class and not for the first time. More like the millionth time. How was that even possible in just a few short weeks? Chuck had no idea, but that didn't change the fact that he had to endure this behavior multiple times a day. A twelve-year-old picking on a seven-year-old. What a jerk! Who named their kid Clyde? What sort of name was Clyde anyway? An orangutan's name, that's what it was. Chuck thought he noticed a resemblance between his tormenter and the ape in that Clint Eastwood movie his dad liked. He'd like to 'right turn' Decker right in his face. Not likely to ever happen, though.
To make matters worse, Decker was a teachers' pet, so he never got in trouble. His explanation that 'Little Chuckie Bartowski' just had a hard time holding on to all of those heavy sixth-grade books was seemingly accepted without question. Like had been the case back in grade school, a few weeks ago, there were teachers who viewed Chuck as an inconvenience. That was true even though he was the top student in every class and always followed their instructions to the letter. He was just different. Different stood out and, so, different was bad. Chuck was used to it by now, so he accepted those teachers' judgement.
When he knelt to retrieve the things he'd dropped, Decker added insult to injury and kicked Chuck's already tumbled pile of books and papers across the room in the sixth-grade wing of the John Muir Middle School. At least the room wasn't still full of students trying to leave, he and Decker were the last ones, so Chuck didn't have to deal with the other sixth graders playing book soccer with his stuff, like they usually did. He wanted to look up at the older kid and glare, but he knew all that would get him was expletive-laced verbal abuse disguised as growls to fool the teachers, followed by some form of physical retribution. That usually took the form of a hard shove or hip check into the nearest wall or bank of lockers. Chuck had quickly learned to not even sigh. Learned to not show any reaction to Decker's bullying. Not reacting to the older boy netted Chuck some form of punishment anyway, but not as much as showing even the smallest emotion would. So, Chuck kept his head down and went about collecting his things.
Then he felt a sharp pain in his back where Decker kneed him when he pulled his patented 'sorry, I tripped' move.
"Clyde, stop messing around and get to class," Ms. Hunt snorted. No trip to the office or punishment for his bullying Chuck. For essentially hitting him. Just a smirk and a wave. Decker giggled and did as he was told. The teacher looked at the younger boy on the ground. "Pick up your stuff, Bartowski. You're going to be late for your next class, if you don't get a move on." He nodded in understanding. With that, she turned on her heel and stomped off to visit another classroom. Chuck was sure he could hear her hooves clomping on the floor as she trotted away. Furtively, he looked around. Finally alone, he snickered quietly at his own mental joke, before turning back to the task at hand. He'd not uttered a single word during the whole process. As he reached for a scattered fan of papers, he heard a sound … What?
Where was that sound coming from? Was someone talking? To him? Or was that singing? It wasn't time for music class. Connections classes didn't happen until after lunch. So, who was singing? What was going on? Chuck peeked out of the door to look down the hall in the direction of the music rooms, but it was pitch black. He looked around, but the entire room was gone. The hall was gone. His books and papers were gone, as well. He couldn't feel the classroom floor any longer, either. Darkness was everywhere. He was alone.
The sound was still there … The singing … Faint and far away … He looked around again, but saw nothing. Then he looked where he thought 'up' would be. He couldn't be sure in the disorienting darkness. Far above, he could just make out a tiny pinprick of light. No more than a single pixel, he thought.
The light was so tiny and far away, but there was something about it. Something that called to him. The sounds were coming from that light, at least he thought so. The indistinct talking. The music. He grew more certain with each faint passing note.
Chuck was suddenly seized with an incredible longing to reach that light. He wanted it more than he'd wanted anything in his life.
But it was so far away and he didn't know how to get there. He had lost his way.
Tuesday April 30 – Stanford Hospital ICU – after 7:30pm, three days after Chuck's injury
Nothing happened. Sarah's shoulders slumped. She had to stop herself from crying inside the suit. Again.
Chuck didn't open his eyes and sit bolt upright and kiss her to within an inch of her life. He didn't move at all, not even a twitch. Didn't make a sound. Sarah didn't know what kind of reaction she was hoping for, but she was disappointed. She knew she shouldn't have been expecting any kind of reaction to begin with and wasn't, publicly, but, privately, to herself, she had been. Sarah silently admitted that she'd been hoping for a miracle. Hoping that Chuck would hear her speaking to him at the beginning of the recording and instantly wake up. The small tremulous smile that had taken root on her face quickly vanished. Reality set in once more. She huffed in frustration. This was going to take time. And patience.
Danielle gave her arm a sympathetic squeeze and blinked her eyes. Sarah couldn't see, but thought the nurse was either frowning or pouting, but the mask and shield made her expression harder to read.
"I'm sorry, Sarah," Danielle said. "I know you were hoping for more of a reaction."
"Yeah, I was," she shrugged. "I know it was silly, but I couldn't help but hope anyway."
"Of course, you were. It's only natural. Don't get discouraged," the older woman replied. "The recording has just started. Give it time to play for a while, it may take him time to focus on it." She inclined her head at Chuck's motionless form. "Who knows what he's going through in there?"
"You're right, Ms. Fu," Sarah reluctantly agreed. "I just need to have faith that he'll hear all of us and it'll get his attention somehow." She took her regular seat beside the bed and reached for her boyfriend's hand, gently squeezing it. The spark was there. She couldn't tell if it was stronger than it had been the last time she'd held his hand or not. Keep your spirits up, Walker, she thought. This is just the beginning.
"Chuck, it's Sarah. I'm back," she put as much hope and positive energy into her voice that she could. "Can you hear me, sweetie? Can you hear us all talking to you and singing our songs for you? Listen, baby. Listen to the voices of your friends. Listen to our songs. Everyone wants you to come back and hang out with us again. We all miss you. I miss you. So much. Come back to us, Chuck. Come back to me, baby. I'm here." She took a deep breath, trying to control her emotions. This suit and these stupid gloves were a pain in the ass, she fussed to herself. She couldn't wait until the morning when she could hold his hand for real. Feel him and have him feel her. And to think that not so long ago, she was trying to get him to touch her breast. Get more physical, move them forward in that part of their relationship. She shook her head. Now, all she wanted was for him to open his eyes and look at her and hold her hand, skin to skin. Oh, how I long to see your beautiful kind brown eyes again, my dearest. The gentle warm touch of your hand holding mine. She sniffed and began to speak again, knowing that she was most likely talking over the recording, confusing things for him, but she found she couldn't help it. She needed to be doing something. Anything.
"I hope you like the recording, Chuck," Sarah forced herself to be upbeat. "We worked like crazy putting it together for you. There were a lot of moving parts and we had to juggle tons of people's schedules to get it all done as soon as we did," she chuckled softly. "You'd have loved it, I'm sure." Sarah continued to hold her silent boyfriend's hand and talk to him as normally as she could. When she glanced over and caught Ms. Fu's eye, the nurse checked the monitor and gave her a thumbs up. Chuck was reacting, but to what? What was he listening to on the recording right then?
…
(Listening to the recording)
Was that Morgan's voice? Morgan! Where are you? I can barely hear you, buddy!
…
Then … a memory …
Chuck is 18 years old. It's mid-September in Burbank, California.
This was the final leg of the journey he had begun more than ten years earlier. To finally meet people and have time enough to just hang out. Something besides classes, labs, and projects. Wow. Be able to finish school and get on with his life. Chuck could scarcely believe it. He was excited and, if he were honest with himself, terrified in equal measure.
"Heelllooo," Morgan called softly. "Ground control to Major Chuck. Can you hear me, Major Chuck?"
Chuck pulled himself out of his musings. "Sorry, buddy. Lost in thought."
"Oh really?" Morgan grinned. "I couldn't tell."
Chuckling and shaking his head at his friend, Chuck unlocked the car and got in. Morgan did likewise, sliding the snack bag and thermos onto the floorboard beside him. As they buckled up, they each pulled on sunglasses.
Chuck looked over at Morgan. "It's 348 miles to Palo Alto, we have a full tank of gas, a grocery bag of snacks, it's mostly dark, and we're wearing sunglasses."
Morgan pointed towards the front of the car, out through the front windshield. "Hit it."
Whooping, they pulled out of the parking spot and began their college adventure.
…
Chuck was excited. Eager. Stanford was going to change his life. He just knew it… Wait? How did he know that? Why was he so certain?
He looked around, but the car was gone. And so was Morgan. There was only darkness, but … A voice?
Was that a woman's voice? … Mom? … Ellie? … No. … No. … Sarah? … Yes! Sarah! SARAH!
That was Sarah's voice, but he couldn't make out what she was saying. What she was trying to tell him. The connection was bad or she was still too far away to understand clearly.
He looked in the direction he felt Sarah's voice was coming from. The tiny light! There it was again! He needed to reach that light…
But how?
Tuesday April 30 – Stanford Hospital ICU – after 9:00pm, three days after Chuck's injury
Sarah had come out of Chuck's room a little bit after 8:00pm. She'd spent the time, after starting the recording, talking to him about everything over the last two days and everyone's efforts to create what he was hearing. Tell him how much she and the others missed him and wanted him back among his friends. Sarah even mentioned her mom and how she was pestering her about when she could meet her boyfriend. Danielle Fu confirmed, over and over, that Chuck was reacting to something. It was a good sign. She wanted to sit there for a while longer, but she knew Chuck's family wanted to spend time with him as well, so she'd reluctantly left his side. As soon as she'd removed the suit and answered everyone's questions, Mary went in to spend time with her son, followed by Stephen and, then, Ellie. When her friends heard that Chuck hadn't immediately reacted to the recording their shoulders sagged a little. They sagged even more when the nurses shooed them out of the ICU, along with everyone else, outside of Chuck's family and Sarah.
Now, Ellie was in the room with her brother. Sarah stood next to Mary and Stephen looking through the window at the pair. She could see the odd mixture of pride and sadness on the older couple's faces and wondered what it must have been like to raise two such brilliant children in the face of Chuck's issues and the intense sibling discord when the two of them were both still living at home.
…
A woman's voice, again. … Sarah? … No, that wasn't Sarah's voice. … Whose then? … Was that Ellie talking? It certainly sounded like her, but he just wasn't sure. The voice was too muffled to make out clearly. Not as bad as before, but still not understandable.
… Memories …
Chuck is 8 years old, currently in the twelfth grade. It's early June in Burbank, California.
"I don't want to go, Mom", Ellie whined. "It's bad enough that my little brother is graduating from high school and I'm barely in middle school. I get teased enough as it is. Why does he have to be this way, anyway?"
"Ellie, what a terrible thing to say!" Mom scolded. "This is an important event for Chuck. A big day. He deserves to have his family there to celebrate with him. His entire family. That includes you." Her mother shook her finger in Ellie's face. "Whether you like it or not."
Chuck's emotions were all mixed up. He was sad that Ellie got teased, because he knew all about teasing. But he was angry at his sister, too. This wasn't about her. It was his day, but she couldn't ever allow him to take any happiness in his accomplishments because they only 'embarrassed' her and got her teased by her so-called 'friends'. She was just jealous, he silently pouted. He had to admit that he was happy on top of everything else. Finally getting out of school and on his way to college. He was sure that college wouldn't be like the last two years. People from all over the world, lots of different people of different ages, all attended universities together. He was sure he'd fit in better once he got to UCLA and CalTech. He agreed with Ellie, he was tired of being bullied and teased all of the time.
Dad had walked into the room and put his hand on Ellie's shoulder. She turned her pleading eyes to him. Was she going to convince Dad to allow her to have her way again? Chuck frowned. He didn't like sticking out any more than Ellie did. But what could he do about it?
"Eleanor," Dad began. … The world started to fracture and break apart. Chuck couldn't hear his father anymore. … But he did hear Ellie talking. … Not twelve-year-old Ellie, either. Her voice was still too unclear. She definitely sounded older. … What? Did she say something about dinner? …
… There was a shift. …
Chuck is 18 years old. It's October 1 in Stanford, California
Chuck asked, "What's for dinner, El? It smells wonderful in here." Chuck sniffed the air a few times for emphasis.
"I made mom's beef stew recipe. There's a loaf of French bread that I heated in the oven. We can put some slices on our plates and ladle the stew over it with some extra slices to sop up any extra gravy." Ellie said a bit proudly.
"Mmmm. That sounds wonderful. It'll be a nice change from eating in the dining hall." Chuck licked his lips in anticipation.
"Is the food in the dining hall not good?" Devon asked.
"Oh, no it's good. Great even. It's just that a home cooked meal will be a nice change of pace."
"Well, I didn't slave over a hot stove to make it. That credit goes to the wonder of the crock pot." Ellie shrugged.
"Ellie, I know you did all the work to prepare everything for the crock pot, even if it was cooking while you and Devon were busy with class. Thank you for going to all of that effort in spite of your busy schedule and thank you for inviting me. I understand busy."
…
After eating for a few minutes in silence, Ellie spoke up again. "Chuck, have you tried cooking anything since you've been up here?"
"No, El, I haven't. There hasn't really been much time and I haven't noticed any place for me to cook, outside getting a hotplate for my room. I don't think they really want us doing that, either."
"You could always use this place if you wanted to cook for yourself. Or if you have someone you want to cook for." Ellie was clearly fishing for information.
"I'll remember that. Thanks, Ellie. And, no, there is no one I would like to cook for at this point." Chuck replied. "Except for Morgan."
… Wait … That's not right, is it? I've cooked for Ellie and Devon. And Sarah, too. Didn't I? When was that? He knew, but he couldn't focus on the date.
…
Just as Chuck unlocked the door to his room, he remembered. He remembered what he had said to her when she introduced herself to him. "Nice to need you, Sarah Walker." Need? Oh, no! Talk about a Freudian slip. Why did he say that? …
…
Because I do need you, Sarah. I need you so much. You are everything to me. Where are you? Where am I?
…
I know these things. They've happened before. … What's going on? … I should know, but I can't quite grasp it …
…
Voices … More voices … A little clearer now … Almost … Almost …
…
The light! There it was again! Was it bigger? Just a little? …
Wednesday May 1 – Stanford Hospital ICU – just after 7:00am, four days after Chuck's injury
Sarah and the Bartowskis had finally left the ICU the previous evening after they'd all had a chance to sit with Chuck and talk to him, each trying to get a response. None of them had been successful. It had been disappointing, but the nurses had told them not to be discouraged. The LTM clearly showed Chuck was reacting to something, even though no one was in the room directly interacting with him, because the readouts were above the original baseline they'd recorded during their initial tests on Sunday. That meant the recording was having an effect, didn't it?
As the foursome had exited the building to meet up with the CATS and Devon, they were greeted by a surprising sight. The crowd was still there maintaining their vigil on Chuck's behalf, more heartwarming than surprising. Sarah had tiredly smiled and waved to them to acknowledge her appreciation of the steadfastness that the people were displaying. No, the surprising sight had been the television news team, from the NBC affiliate out of San Jose, reporting on the vigil. As soon as the pretty blonde reporter caught sight of the Bartowskis, she'd made a beeline for them trailing her camera and lighting crew.
"Dr. Bartowski! Dr. Bartowski!" the reporter had called. "Could you spare a minute for a few questions?"
The older couple had looked at each other before nodding tiredly.
"I'm Kristian Merriweather with KNTV 11 San Jose," the reporter had said to introduce herself. She had been sharply dressed in a black pencil skirt that ended just above her knees paired with a mauve blouse beneath a matching black jacket. Almost sensible heels had completed the ensemble. "Thank you for taking the time to talk with me." She had shaken Mary and Stephen's hands. They'd smiled, but offered no other response. "What can you tell us about your son's condition currently?" She'd shoved her microphone in Stephen's face.
"Well," Stephen had begun, blowing out a breath. "Not much has changed since the press conference the other day. Charles is still in a coma. His vital signs are good apart from that. We keep hoping that he'll snap out of it and wake up." He'd shrugged.
Kristian had seemed disappointed at the lack of news. "How are the two of you holding up?" The microphone had next been pushed in front of Mary. Ellie had hung back, not wanting to get involved.
"About as well as you could expect," Mary had said tersely. "Our son had a terrible injury and is in a coma." She had taken a breath. "It's difficult, to say the least."
"Of course, it is. Of course, it is," Kristian had made a cursory attempt to sympathize. "Speaking of difficulty, how has Stanford been handling this? How has your family been treated?"
"Stanford has been great," Mary had replied. "Top notch. Chuck has received excellent care. Very attentive. We couldn't ask for better."
"What about the administration? The athletic department?" Kristian had pressed, hoping for something to liven up the report.
"They've been wonderful," Stephen had interjected. "Both the president of the university, Dr. Bainbridge, and the dean of the engineering school, Dr. Loveless, have been by to check on Charles and our family. More than once. They've shown great care and concern. Langston Graham, the baseball coach, and his wife, Anna, are personal friends of ours. Langston and I went to school together and were baseball teammates. They've been doing everything they can to help Charles and help us. Great people. The entire community has been so caring and compassionate."
"The outpouring of support from everyone has been almost overwhelming," Mary had added, waving her arm indicating the gathered crowd.
"It is impressive, isn't it?" the reporter had agreed. Then she'd turned her sights on Sarah.
"Miss Walker. Sarah. May I call you Sarah?" she'd asked. Sarah had nodded. "We understand that you're Chuck Bartowski's girlfriend. Is that right?"
"Yes, that's correct," Sarah had cautiously answered.
"What do you think of all of this," Kristian had turned slightly to take in the people arrayed behind her.
"I think it's amazing," Sarah had said sincerely. "All of these people standing out here to support Chuck is just wonderful. Very humbling."
"It is pretty amazing," Ms. Merriweather had nodded. "We've had reports that you organized and led an effort to create a recording for Chuck to listen to while he's comatose. What can you tell us about that?" So, there it was, she'd thought. The word had gotten out, but she had been glad that the recording was done and in place before the public got wind of it. They'd been able to avoid any fanfare up to that point.
"Yes, we did make a recording," Sarah had admitted. "His family and friends, along with his baseball teammates and some others spent the last two days recording well wishes and little stories for Chuck to listen to while he's … um … ah … away from us. There's no telling how long he'll be comatose or what makes someone wake up from one. We thought hearing positive messages from friends and family might help. It can't hurt."
"Are you spending any time with him or is it too painful, given the situation," Kristian had foolishly asked.
"It's terribly painful to see someone you care about in a coma," Sarah had defiantly replied. "That's beside the point, really. I spend every minute of the day that I can with him." She'd looked over at Chuck's family and smiled. Ellie had smirked back. Mary had smiled affectionately. "Well, as much time as I can and still allow his family a few minutes with him. He's mine, but he's not mine alone." A ghost of a smile crossed her tired features.
"So, you're saying he's got lots of fighters in his corner," the reporter had chuckled.
"Yes, he does," Sarah had nodded. "More than he knows."
At that point, Chuck's parents had made it clear that they were tired from the day and tired of the questions. Kristian Merriweather had shown more intelligence and compassion than they had expected when she'd stepped back and terminated the interview, remembering to thank them all for their time. Once the camera lights were off, the CATS had moved in and swept Sarah off to the dorm while the Bartowskis and Devon made their way to their own refuges.
This morning, now that the shift change had been completed, Marji Eckart and Mary McClure were busy clearing out the equipment and sterile clothing boxes as part of the new, more relaxed, protocol. Chuck's parents and Sarah were watching the whole process through the window. Ellie couldn't be there. She and Devon had an early class. The three of them were anxiously waiting for a chance to enter his room and interact with him without the cumbersome and distasteful suits in the way. Sarah longed to touch him for real for the first time in days. Feel their connection.
Soon enough, the unnecessary items had been removed from Chuck's room and the area outside, as well, and carted back to storage. Now it was time for his bed to be changed, but before the nurses performed that task, they had to bathe him. It was no easy task to bathe a patient still attached to so many monitoring devices. The infection restrictions may have been lifted, but the monitoring attachments and intravenous tubes were all still in place. Their task was made that much more difficult because of Chuck's comatose state and his sheer size. The nurses' concern led them to request the assistance of one of the orderlies to help them maneuver Chuck's body to facilitate him getting a thorough bath and avoid dislodging any of his tubes and wires. With apologetic smiles, they closed the curtain, as per hospital policy, to afford their patient some privacy even though he wouldn't know it. It was at that point that the nurses paused the recording and removed the earphones from Chuck's ears, placing his phone and earphones off to the side and away from the two bowls of soapy bath water and clean rinse water.
They couldn't have known that Chuck had quickly grown to depend on the recording. Depend on hearing Sarah's voice. He didn't know what was going on, but the recording was a lifeline for him. The light was gone. Its absence sent him down into a black spiral.
Chuck is 7 years old. It's mid-April in Los Angeles, California
"That was some game, wasn't it Charles?" Dad asked, grinning as they walked back to the car. They'd gotten there later than they'd planned and had been forced to park a long way from the stadium, up in the northwestern part of the huge lot, close by Academy Road, near to the Los Angeles Police Academy/ Elysian Park. The walk to the car was more of a hike.
"Yeah, Dad! It was great!" Chuck chirped happily. "The Dodgers pitching was great, too. I hope I can learn to pitch like the pros when I get older. They really mowed them down. I think they're going to have a great season this year!" He was almost skipping along; he was so happy.
"What did you think of the game, Ellie?" Mom asked.
"It was OK, I guess," Ellie shrugged. "There were some cute players. I don't know." She shrugged again. "I like baseball, I guess, but I like soccer more. At least they let girls play soccer, not like baseball."
"Whaddaya mean Ellie?" Chuck goggled at his sister. "Don't you remember that Tom Hanks movie? They let girls play baseball alright. It's even in the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown."
"That was back during World War II, Chuck," Ellie retorted. "I'm talking about now. There aren't any baseball leagues for girls around here now are there?"
"Sure, there are, Ellie," Chuck replied. "They allow girls to play Little League. I saw that on their website. PONY baseball, too. You can play there, if you want."
"But I'd have to play on teams with boys," Ellie complained. "I don't want to play baseball with a bunch of dumb old boys. Boys my age are mostly big jerks. I want to play on teams with girls. Only girls. Soccer lets me do that."
Before Chuck could say anything else, his mother put her hand on his shoulder and gently squeezed. Not enough to hurt, but to get his attention, which she definitely did.
"Shhhh," Mom urgently whispered. "Don't say a word. Not a word! And don't move a muscle!" Chuck fidgeted. "Stand still!" she hissed. Chuck instantly stopped moving. He'd never heard his mother sound like that. When he looked in front of the family, toward where the car was parked, he understood why his mom was acting the way she was. There was a man talking harshly to another man and a woman off in the distance. Close enough to see, but not close enough for the first man to bother them or so Chuck hoped. The first man had a gun and he was pointing it at the couple! Ellie whimpered, but didn't move.
The man with the gun looked and sounded mean. He was telling the couple something, but it was too far away and Chuck couldn't hear what he was saying. The second man was slow to do as he was ordered, so the first man hit him with the gun. The woman screamed and Gun Man yelled at her to be quiet. Chuck could hear that. The injured man finally got his wallet out of his pocket and gave it to Gun Man. The Gun Man told the woman something and she gave him her purse.
As soon as Gun Man had the woman's purse, he took off running up the grassy embankment in front of him, toward a car that was waiting there. Once Gun Man got into the car and it drove away, Mom ran over to the couple to see if she could help them. Meanwhile, Dad pulled out his phone and called '911'. Ellie began to sob. Chuck didn't know what he felt. He'd been afraid and knew he'd never forget the man or the gun, but when the man hadn't done anything to their family, Chuck didn't know how to feel about it. It was all very strange to him.
…
The police came and talked to Mom and Dad. They talked to the couple, too. An ambulance showed up and the paramedics worked on the injured man. Mom said he had a cut on his head where Gun Man, a mugger, had hit him and a concussion, too. That bothered Chuck. He didn't like to think about head injuries, he had enough head stuff to worry about already. The police told Dad that it was lucky that the mugger hadn't tried to rob them, too. Mom had prevented Chuck from saying anything. For his own protection, she said, even though he could have recounted the entire incident in minute detail from memory. Chuck thought her eyes looked strange when she whispered for him to remain silent.
…
Dad drove the family home on Interstate 5. Chuck sat in front with him, a rare treat, while Mom sat in back with Ellie. It took a long time to get Ellie to calm down. Chuck was mostly just confused. Why did he react so differently from Ellie?
…
Weeks later the police caught the mugger. His name was Augusto Gaez and he was a member of a street gang. The people on the news program on TV said he was in jail and that there was going to be a trial. -
…
The TV report about the mugging stopped. Chuck looked and the TV was gone. Everything was dark once more.
…
Then voices … He heard voices again. They were clearer. Better, but still not clear enough.
Wednesday May 1 – Stanford Hospital ICU – a little before 7:30am, four days after Chuck's injury
The nurses were finally finished working on Chuck. They'd bathed him and changed his bed linens. They'd even fluffed his pillows. Once they had a fresh gown on him, they'd reattached his phone and popped the earphones back into his ears, taping them in place. He was hearing the recording again and the LTM monitor made that clear. Chuck was definitely reacting to what he was hearing. No doubt about it. Marji Eckert had opened the curtain once they had Chuck suitably dressed, so he could be observed. Mary McClure came out of the room and smiled at his parents and Sarah.
"You can go on in now," the nurse said happily, smirking as she wagged her finger. "Remember, only two at a time, though."
Sarah turned to the Bartowskis. "Please go ahead. I need to ask Ms. McClure some stuff anyway." She smiled encouragingly, even though all she really wanted to do was run in that room and throw herself on his bed and hug him as tightly as she could.
"Thanks, Sarah," Mary smiled knowingly. "We will only be a few minutes, since we know that you need to get off to class not too long from now." Stephen nodded his thanks and, with that, the couple entered the room to spend some time with their stricken son. Nurse McClure turned to Sarah with a questioning expression on her face.
"What can I do for you, Sarah?" Ms. McClure asked, curious what the young student needed from her.
"A group of us were talking on Monday and we thought that it would be a good idea to put some things in Chuck's room, so when he wakes up, he'll be able to tell he's really awake. Stuff that lets him know he was awake in the here and now and not still having his episode," Sarah explained.
"Sounds interesting," the nurse agreed. "Like what kind of stuff are we talking about?"
"Well, first off, a big digital clock that shows the day and the entire date. His friend, Morgan, suggested putting up posters of stuff he likes and stuff he definitely doesn't like for him to see, too. Posters that he doesn't have in his dorm room or his room at home. We could even move them around every time he goes to sleep, so he'd know he was awake each time and not reliving a previous event."
"That does make a lot of sense. As good as anything, given that Chuck's situation is so unique." Ms. McClure thought for a moment. "When were you planning on getting this stuff and setting it up?"
"Oh, we already have the clock and some framed posters," Sarah smiled. "We can put them up later today, if that's all right. There are some more posters that should arrive soon." She shrugged. "The choices we could find locally were a bit limited and we had to order some online."
"You must want Chuck back pretty badly to go to all of this effort," the nurse chuckled kindly, gently teasing.
"You have no idea," Sarah shook her head seriously.
"Oh, I think I do," Ms. McClure gave her a knowing look and patted her arm. "I'd do the same thing, if I were in your shoes."
Chuck's parents walked out of his room and smiled upon hearing the end of the exchange.
"Your turn," Mary grinned, nodding her head back toward the room's doorway. Sarah took a deep breath and went in.
Sarah walked to Chuck's bedside, looking him over with a critical eye. When they'd bathed him, the nurses had taken the opportunity to change the bandage over the stitches on his forehead. The bandage was somewhat smaller than the previous one, so more of Chuck's face and head was visible. That meant the bruising from the baseball impact and the surgery was more prominent, as well. Sarah had tried to ignore it before, but it was harder to do now. His two black eyes and discolored forehead almost made it appear that Chuck was wearing a mask. She winced at the thought of how much it must hurt, thankful, in that moment, that he wasn't feeling it. At least, she hoped he couldn't feel it. But she also grinned briefly, thinking about how Chuck kind of looked like one of the mask-wearing superheroes in his comic books. The probe was still in his skull and the LTM wires were still attached, making him look even more like a superhero ensnared by a villain. And he was ensnared by villains, she thought. The demons of his past. Sarah leaned over her boyfriend's body, gently slipping her hand under his and curling her fingers around his palm. She felt the spark of their connection, stronger than before. Was that because she wasn't wearing latex gloves any longer or because he was slowly becoming more aware? Slowly waking up? A thrill of hope passed through her body at the thought of him coming back to her.
"I'm here, Chuck," she whispered. "I feel you, sweetie. Do you feel me holding your hand?" She leaned over further and softly kissed his cheek close to the edge of his mouth, feeling the scratch of his days old beard, which the nurses hadn't shaved. Her lips tingled like they normally did when she kissed Chuck. Smiling in recognition, she breathed in his scent. It was the same masculine scent that said 'Chuck' to her, but without the familiar cedar aftershave and Ivory soap accompaniment. She had to block out the hospital smells trying to distract her. After briefly stroking her fingers across his cheek with her free hand, she sat down.
"Do you want to hear the latest news, babe?" Sarah began, trying to sound as normal as possible. "Sure, you do. OK. Well, first off, the baseball team won last night. They beat Santa Clara 7-1. I didn't watch it because I was here with you, but I heard that Stanford led the entire game and everyone played great. Don't worry, I'm not upset over missing the game. I'd rather spend time with you any day of the week," she grinned sheepishly knowing that she might be overheard by the people out in the hall.
"There was another thing that happened last night, which took place when we left the hospital. It was kind of unusual and was right after we gave you the recording you're hearing this very minute. Once you were listening to the recording, your mom and dad, Ellie, and I left because we were all so tired," Sarah said apologetically. "When we got outside, there was a reporter and a TV crew from San Jose filming the people waiting in the space near the hospital. They're out there showing their support for you, babe. She wanted to interview your parents. And me, too. It was weird, but I was happy to talk about you, sweetie. So yeah, your girlfriend was on TV bragging about you." She giggled a little and squeezed his hand, then went on to describe the encounter with Kristian Merriweather.
…
Sarah! I can hear you! … Not perfectly, but it's getting better. … I feel you, too. … Our snap. … Our connection. … Where are you?
… Who else is talking to me? It's louder than you! … Closer somehow. … Is that Polish?
(On the recording)
Mam piosenkę, którą chcę dla ciebie zaśpiewać, moja droga. To dość znana polska piosenka. [I have a song I want to sing for you, my dear one. It's a pretty famous Polish song.]
…
Sarah! I can hear you! You're speaking Polish. And English? At the same time? Why are you two places at once? How are you in two places at once? What is going on? … What are you saying? … No. … You're singing. I'd recognize your voice anywhere. … So, why can't I see you?
…
(On the recording)
Na zewnątrz mgła, tylko ziąb i deszcz, [Outside the fog just chill and rain,]
A dla mnie świat w ciepłym świetle świec, [And for me the world in the warm light of candles,]
Powietrze ma elektryczny smak, [The air has an electric taste,]
Chciałbym tak trwać nawet tysiąc lat. [I would just take thousands of years.]
Bo jesteś Ty, znów przy mnie budzisz się. [Because you are Again, you wake up near me,]
Bo jesteś Ty i wciąż czuję, że... [Because you are I still feel that...]
Bo jesteś Ty, cóż więcej mógłbym chcieć? [Because you are, what more could I ask for?]
Bo jesteś tu i proszę zostań już. [Because you are here and please stay longer.]
Ja chciałbym tak zawsze biec pod wiatr, [I would just always run against the wind,]
Nie liczyć dni, ciągle zmieniać twarz, [Don't count the days, constantly changing face,]
Sprawić, by czas wciąż omijał mnie, [Make time pass me by,]
Wszystko to już dziś nie liczy się. [All this does not matter anymore.]
Bo jesteś Ty, zaczynasz ze mną dzień. [Because you are, you start the day with me.]
Bo jesteś wciąż, gdy zaczyna się noc. [Because you are with me when the night begins.]
Już wszystko mam, cóż więcej mógłbym chcieć? [I already have everything, what more could I ask for?]
Bo jesteś tu i zawsze tu bądź. [Because you're here and stay with me, please.]
Bo jesteś Ty, znów przy mnie budzisz się. [Because You are Again, you wake up next to me,]
Bo jesteś Ty i wciąż czuję, że... [Because you are and I still feel that...]
Bo jesteś Ty, cóż więcej mógłbym chcieć? [Because you are, what more could I ask for?]
Bo jesteś tu i proszę zostań już. [Because you are here and please stay longer.]
Bo jesteś Ty... [Because you are…]
…
Chuck looked around, but Sarah wasn't singing in Polish to him anymore. He hoped she was still there.
…
Sarah, moje życie było puste bez ciebie. Pragnę cię przytulić i pocałować. Gdzie jesteś? Jestem tak zagubiony i samotny bez ciebie.
[Sarah, my life was empty without you. I long to hold you and kiss you. Where are you? I feel so lost and alone without you.]
…
Sarah's voice seemed closer. Was it? It was clearer than it had been and it sounded like she was speaking English, but he still couldn't see her.
…
Chuck looked for the light. Where was it? … There! … It was bigger, he was sure of it. … But …
…
What's wrong with that light? … Why is it fading and getting smaller now?
Sarah let go of Chuck's hand and placed it back on his chest, patting it gently, trying to prolong her contact with him. She knew she had to go, had classes to attend, but she didn't want to leave. All she wanted to do was sit right where she was until he woke up and she could hold him in her arms for real. Sarah could feel the ache in her limbs that matched the one in her heart. Shaking her head, she stood up, leaning over for a goodbye kiss. After a final soft caress of his stubbly cheek, she turned and left the room.
Mary was the first to see the look on her face when she came out in the hall. Reaching out, the older woman gathering the younger one into a strong comforting hug. Pulling back, she shook her head sympathetically.
"I have no idea what you're feeling right now, Sarah," Mary admitted. "I love him as a mother, but your love for him is different, so your experience here is different. I never went through anything like this with Stephen, so I won't try and say I know what you're going through." Sarah looked a little stunned at what she was saying. Mary grinned. "Don't look so shocked. I've known you love him all along. You can't hide it at all. Not from me anyway. I talked about your strong feelings the other night because I didn't want to say anything you might not want made public right then. But no one else is around now. And your feelings are fairly obvious to everyone. Well, almost everyone. Only Chuck can't or won't see it. Or, maybe, he just doesn't understand what he's seeing." She held up a hand to forestall the comment on the tip of Sarah's tongue. "I know he doesn't have the experience and the context, but he does have the feelings. I saw them over the holidays. He'll reason it out, like he does everything else." Mary snorted, smiling affectionately at the thought of her son using logic to figure out his heart. "Hang in there. Right now, with all of this going on. And later when he wakes up."
"Oh, I plan to, Dr. Bartowski," Sarah grinned. "He's not getting away from me that easily."
"Atta girl," Mary squeezed both of Sarah's arms. "We'll talk more later. Now, off to class with you." Stephen grinned and silently shook his head behind his wife's back. "I can hear you shaking your head behind me, Stephen," she smirked. Her husband snorted his amusement.
Sarah grinned at both parents, feeling better for some unknown reason. She thought about what the future may hold for the entire time it took her to reach her first class.
Wednesday May 1 – Stanford Hospital ICU – after 5:00pm, four days after Chuck's injury
Alex and Morgan walked into the ICU waiting lounge with their arms loaded down. She was carrying a box and a bag while he had an armload of framed posters. Sarah and Zondra saw them walk in and quickly rose from their seats to relieve them of their burdens. The couple smiled their thanks.
"Where are Amy and Carina?" Morgan asked, looking around.
"They're taking a turn to sit with Chuck," Sarah pouted, not bothering to hide the fact she didn't like being away from her boyfriend's side. Turning to the posters, she asked, "What goodies have you brought for him?"
Morgan beamed. "We've got some good ones." He leafed through the stack. "Star Wars, A New Hope, of course. Required." He snorted. "Plus, The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi. Also, required." Sarah grinned at his enthusiasm, but was just a bit jealous of his in-depth knowledge of Chuck's movie preferences. "Finally, The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring. They were out of the other two LOTR posters for some reason, but they've got them on order and we put dibs on one of each."
"Were those the ones you told me about arriving soon or are those other posters?" she wondered.
"Those are different," Morgan confirmed. "The ones coming in the mail are Enter the Dragon and The Phantom Menace. Alex found them on the website of a place up in San Francisco, so they should be here pretty quickly. Enter the Dragon is a Bruce Lee classic, Chuck loves it, and the last one … well … that is the one Chuck HATES." Morgan chuckled. "He'll know something is wrong if he wakes up and sees that one."
"But he'll know he's awake," Sarah nodded. Morgan nodded back. "Good." She turned to Alex. "I'm guessing the box is the clock, so what's in the bag?"
"Oh, those are those sticky hanging things," Alex told her. "You know the ones they advertise on TV that are supposed to be easy to put on the wall and take down without leaving a mark? Well, we figured the hospital would appreciate us not trying to bang nails into their walls or glue something permanent up there either, so we picked up enough for all four posters. If we don't hang all of them, there's just extra hangers, in case we need them."
"Yeah, you're probably right about that," Sarah smirked as she nodded in agreement. "Let me go talk to the nurses and see if we can't get this stuff in place." She walked out of the lounge and went in search of Ms. Eckert. Finding her, Sarah returned with her to the lounge.
Due to the visitation limit of two people, it was decided that Sarah and Carina would assist the two nurses in putting up the posters and setting up the clock, since they were the tallest of the CATS. Not to mention taller than both Alex and Morgan. There turned out to only be room for three posters at a time due to one wall being taken up by the window, so the fourth poster was left leaning against the wall, out of the way. Ms. McClure set the clock on a rolling table that featured a power plug and a retractable cord, so it could be plugged into one of the sockets behind Chuck's bed, avoiding it becoming a tripping hazard. Once the table was adjusted to where Chuck could see it when he woke up, Mary McClure got the extra people out of the room.
The CATS all agreed that Alex and Morgan should spend some time with Chuck as a reward for their extra special effort obtaining the clock and posters. Morgan spent the next twenty minutes regaling Chuck with the campus goings on laced with the latest baseball news, squeezing his friend's wrist the entire time. Alex spent the time holding her boyfriend's hand and silently watched him urge his friend to wake up with everything in him. She knew the friends had been separated before, for long periods of time, but this was different. Completely different. When Morgan couldn't take it anymore, she guided him out of the room and into her arms. It took some minutes before he was able to compose himself. Sarah and Zondra had gone into Chuck's room, allowing the couple some privacy. Carina and Amy had gone off in search of a water fountain for the same reason.
With a signal from Alex, the CATS returned and the small group trooped off to Lakeside Dining for food and friends, their hearts both lighter and heavier. Lighter for doing something positive and hanging the posters. Heavier for the reason behind needing to hang the posters in the first place.
Chuck continued to listen to the recording. Over the next few days, friends, teammates, and family came to sit and talk to him. And the recording played on.
…
(On the recording)
"You need to wake up, Bartowski," Coach Casey growled. "Your friend Grimes is moping around and it's upsetting Alex. If you don't come around soon, his legs won't be anything but stumps from all the poles he'll be running for causing my princess grief."
(Memory)
"Outstanding. I thought for a second there that I had wandered into a girly rhythmic gymnastics practice."
Morgan whispered to Chuck. "QeHtaHbogh qabDaj vIlo'taHvIS poH 'arqon." [I didn't know Casey liked to dress up in leotards and play with long ribbons.]
"Duj 'e' vIpIH. jIHvaD ghIlghameS, jIHvaD 'e' yIchaw'." Casey said, looking straight at Chuck and Morgan. [I heard you, numbnuts. You owe me 10 poles after practice, Grimes.]
Morgan just gaped at Casey. "Coach?" he asked.
"What? Didn't think I knew Klingon, did you, idiot?" Casey smirked. "Hello? Nerd school. I'm a Marine. We never go into enemy territory unarmed." Coach Graham and the rest of the assembled coaches laughed, shaking their heads. Casey just shrugged. Some of the players started to laugh, but a look from Casey silenced them.
Morgan hung his head. "Ah, man." Chuck just patted his friend on the shoulder. At least they would be running together.
(On the recording)
"Seriously, kid, we need you back. The team isn't the same without you," Casey's voice sounded sincere, almost kind. "You need to know about that girl of yours, Sarah. She's a fighter. She's got this whole school following her lead. Everyone is on your side, fighting for you. Wake up, son. She needs you back, Chuck. We all do."
(Memory)
"You said I could talk to you about anything," he said. She nodded her confirmation. "Well, I've felt that electric buzz, for lack of a better word, ever since I met you. Every time I'm near you. Even in the same room, but it gets more intense the closer we are to each other. That snap every time we touch each other. When I've shaken your hand. When we've hugged. When I grabbed your hands a second ago. I had to know if you felt it too and if you had any idea what it was."
"Why does that matter?" Sarah asked softly.
"Because you're different, Sarah. Like I said, different from anyone else I've ever met anywhere in the world. Male or female. Because I feel a special connection to you that I've never felt with anyone else. You make me feel …," he tapered off into silence.
"I make you feel … what?" Sarah spoke so softly that she was almost whispering.
"I don't know, Sarah. I don't."
"Do I make you feel bad? Upset?"
"No, not bad. Nor upset. Not at all. No, you make me feel …," Chuck stopped again, frustrated. When he looked at her, he saw patience and encouragement in her eyes. "I don't know. I really don't," he looked down and shook his head sadly. "I'm such a mess."
Sarah reached out to him and he felt the now familiar snap when she touched his arm. His head came up quickly and she jerked her hand back, looking concerned. His jumbled thoughts began to clear.
"Human, Sarah," he said sincerely. "You make me feel human. Normal. Whole. Alive. And safe," he nodded. "You make me feel safe." Then his face clouded over again. "And something else that I don't understand." Sarah beamed at him.
"I make you feel safe?" she asked. He simply nodded. "How do I make you feel that way, do you think?"
"Don't know. It's just how I feel when we're together. Near each other. Even in the practice room. I feel normal. Not so different. Not so distant from everyone."
(In the darkness of his mind)
…
You make me glad to be alive, Sarah. Each day is better than the last. I've got to find you again!
…
… Slowly, the light grew. … Or he was getting closer to it?
…
(On the recording)
"You need to wake up, Chuckles. Teasing isn't any fun when you're not around," Carina whined.
"It's true, Chuck," Amy interrupted. "No one else gives Carina as much of a challenge as you do."
"Wake up, Curls," Zondra commanded. "Sarah's being a pill. She's no fun when you aren't around."
"Wake up, Chuck!" All three CATS sang before seeming to get sidetracked giggling. At least, it sounded sort of like giggling to him.
(Memory)
Seeing the multiple plates in front of the two teammates, Amy giggled. "You boys look like you've got big appetites. What'd you do that made you so hungry?"
"Didn't you say something about working your poles, Chuckles?" Carina asked. "I bet that would work up an appetite."
Morgan coughed on his first bite of food, taking a drink to wash it down. Chuck just was puzzled.
"Yes, Carina. Doing our workouts does work up an appetite. Is there something you find strange about that?" he asked, seriously.
Carina stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless. Amy laughed. Zondra just smirked and shook her head.
"Oh my God, Chuck! You're the first person to call Carina's bluff." Sarah laughed.
"What bluff? I don't get it." Chuck said seriously.
Morgan smiled at his friend.
"You're a piece of work, Chuckles. I'll give you that." Carina said, quietly.
… Another shift … Another memory …
"No, no, Chuck. Aren't there games you like to play that only require two people?" Carina batted her lashes at him.
"Of course. Only two people. I didn't know you meant those kinds of games. Sure. Well, I like to play chess. Tennis. And ping-pong. But I haven't played either of them for a while, so I'm a bit rusty." He said apologetically.
"Ping-pong? Oh, good grief." Carina shook her head slightly. "Chuck, I was talking about games you like to play indoors with just one other person. No computers or game machines or board games. Those kinds of games." She cooed and licked her lips.
Chuck sat looking at her for a second, before starting to speak, a little hesitant. Carina smiled and leaned toward him.
"Carina, are your lips chapped?" Chuck was concerned. "I don't mean to be rude, but you keep licking them. Do you want to borrow my Chapstick?" He dug in his pocket for the lip balm.
Carina's mouth fell open and she stared at him, wordlessly. Her suitemates started laughing. Soon, they were laughing so hard that tears rolled down their faces and they had to hold their sides to stop them from hurting. People around them looked at them as if they'd gone crazy.
The commotion got the attention of the other Songbirds around them. Morgan and Alex turned around to see what was going on. Carina was blushing and frowning, shaking her head dejectedly. The other three girls were laughing too hard to answer any questions. Chuck just shrugged; he didn't seem to know why they were laughing either.
Sarah composed herself and leaned over and recounted the exchange between Carina and Chuck. Then, Alex and Morgan were laughing. Soon, all of the Songbirds and their friends were laughing, too.
Fishing a tissue out of her purse and dabbing at her eyes, Zondra continued to chuckle. Patting Chuck on the shoulder, she said. "Curls, you're amazing. How do you keep blocking, Carina? Your banter-fu is strong."
Chuck smiled and shrugged, not sure what the fuss was about. "I guess watching all those martial arts movies wasn't a complete waste of time, after all." That brought out another round of laughter from the people around him.
"You're a piece of work, Chuck. That's for sure." Amy giggled, shaking her head. Chuck just grinned at her.
Sarah touched his arm and they both felt their little jolt. Turning toward her, Chuck saw the mirth and awe on her face. She was so beautiful. Breathtaking. "My God, Chuck. You are a genius. How do you do it? You foil Carina every time. If you had been around four years ago, our time at Stanford would have been completely different."
"I just offered her my Chapstick. I really thought her lips might be chapped, since she was licking them so much. I don't know what the big deal is." Chuck smiled and shrugged, again. Everyone else started laughing once more. Except for Carina. She kind of looked upset.
…
… The light in the darkness felt closer. … It definitely looked bigger to him.
Friday May 3 – Stanford Hospital ICU – just after 5:00pm, six days after Chuck's injury
Mary Bartowski was the first to see the young family tentatively approaching the window looking into Chuck's room. She and Stephen had turned away as soon as Ellie and Sarah had seated themselves on either side of Chuck's bed, not wishing to appear to be eavesdropping on the two young women. The family looked familiar, a quick glance at her husband said he felt the same way, but she couldn't immediately place them.
"We're sorry to intrude, but our son insisted on coming for a visit," the woman said apologetically.
"That's quite all right," Mary smiled. "A number of people have come by to check on him." She held out her hand. "Mary Bartowski and this is my husband, Stephen."
"We're the Torberts," the woman replied. "I'm Celia. My husband, Frank." She indicated the man next to her, before putting her hands on the shoulders of the boy. "And this is our son, Reginald. We met Charles and the rest of the baseball team at Challenge-Fest back at the beginning of February." Upon hearing the baseball charity event mentioned, the light went on for the older couple and they remembered the video that Langston had sent them back then.
"We're Chu- … um … Charles' parents," Mary corrected herself. "It's a pleasure to meet you, even with the present circumstances."
"Oh!" Celia exclaimed. "We were so sorry to hear what happened. Ever since they showed the report on the news, Reginald has wanted to come visit with Charles."
"We would have come sooner, but I was out of town on business and only got back earlier today," Frank interjected, sounding contrite.
"Please, don't worry about it," Mary waved away the younger couple's concerns. "I'm sure Charles would understand the situation, as we certainly do."
"I want to see Charles. Where is he?" Reginald asked.
"He's inside that room, right there," Stephen pointed as he knelt down next to the boy.
"I want him to play baseball with me again," Reginald said. The Bartowskis paused. How to explain what was going on to the autistic boy? Stephen had an idea.
"I know Charles would very much like to play baseball with you, too, Reginald," Stephen said carefully. After receiving nods from Celia and Frank, he continued. "But unfortunately, Charles got hurt and he's asleep, so he can't play baseball right now."
"Wake him up," Reginald demanded.
"Reginald!" Celia scolded. "What did we tell you about making demands?" The boy looked at his mother and frowned, thinking.
"I should not make demands."
"Right." Celia nodded. "What should you do?"
"Ask politely," Reginald said woodenly.
"So?" Celia prompted.
"Could you, please, wake Charles up so he can play baseball with me?" Reginald asked as politely as he knew how.
"Thank you, Reginald," Celia praised him. "That's better." Stephen didn't know how to answer the boy's question. Mary had an idea, so she squatted down next to her husband.
"We can't wake Charles up, Reginald," Mary said gently. "That's how he's hurt. He hit his head very badly and can't wake up right now." Reginald looked confused.
"Make the doctor fix him. That is what they do. They fix people and make them better," the boy said matter-of-factly. Mary shook her head sadly.
"That is the problem, Reginald," Mary said. "The doctors have not been able to wake him up yet. He is hurt too badly."
"May I see him? Maybe, I can wake him up. He will want to wake up and play with me again. We had a good time last time." All four adults had to blink their eyes to hold in their sudden emotions.
"Let me check with the nurses," Mary said, clearing her throat and standing, before walking over to the closest ICU nurse.
"The usual limit is two people," he said. "She's going to see if we can't bend the rules just this once." The Torberts nodded and smiled their thanks.
On her way back to the small group, after speaking with the nurse, Mary stopped by Chuck's room and got Sarah and Ellie's attention, motioning for them to come out. She told them what was going on and asked them to allow the family to spend some time with Chuck. Both young women instantly agreed. Mary walked over to the waiting family.
"The nurse said it was fine, so why don't you all go in for a few minutes. Just be mindful of all of the tubes, wires, and equipment," she kindly instructed. Frank nodded as he guided his wife and son toward the door. Then Reginald stopped, looking at Sarah standing in the hallway.
"You were at Challenge-Fest. I remember you," Reginald said.
"Yes, I was," Sarah nodded. "I remember you, too."
"Charles is my friend. Are you a friend of Charles', too?" the boy asked. Stephen, Mary, and Ellie all grinned. Having seen the news reports and the press conference, the adult Torberts grinned, as well.
"Yes, I am a friend of Charles'," Sarah smiled. Most definitely! She thought to herself.
"Do you play baseball with Charles, too?" Reginald asked. All of the adults were familiar with the baseball bases analogy, but limited their amusement to small grins and dancing eyes. No one wanted to have to explain to Reginald why his question was in any way funny. Sarah couldn't prevent herself from blushing.
"No, I don't play baseball with Charles," Sarah shook her head.
"Then why is he friends with you then?" Reginald asked, sounding very confused. His mother was about to say something, but Sarah briefly held her hand up. Ellie's eyes were bright as she held in her mirth.
"I like to watch Charles play baseball. Very much," the blonde smiled. "I go and watch as many of his baseball games as I can. If the team is playing a game in another city, I listen to the game on the radio or watch it on TV."
"That is good. Baseball is a fun game," Reginald said emphatically.
"Reginald, why don't we go in and see Charles for a few minutes?" Celia gently prodded her son.
"OK." The family of three trooped into Chuck's room and went to stand next to his bed.
"Wake up, Charles. Come play baseball with me," Reginald pleaded. He reached over and shook Chuck's leg, while his father kept a firm hold on his shoulder to prevent him from climbing onto the bed. "It's Reginald. Wake up! I want to play baseball with you."
"What should you say, Reginald?" Celia asked. Her son looked up at her and blinked. Then he looked back at Chuck.
"Please. Please, Charles. Please, wake up so we can play baseball," he begged, getting an approving nod from his mother for his better behavior.
Chuck's family, Sarah, and Devon, who'd come out of the lounge to stand with Ellie, watched the tableau from the window. The anguish in the little boy's voice for his friend was affecting them all. Mary offered tissues to everyone from the stash in her purse. The Torberts quickly returned to the hallway and tried to comfort their son. Sarah knelt down with a hopeful smile for the little boy.
"I am sure Charles heard you, Reginald," she nodded. "I know he is trying to wake up. He wants to wake up very badly. It is just going to take him some more time. OK?"
"OK," Reginald sniffed. "But I hope it is soon." Me too, Sarah thought. Me too.
…
(Memory)
…
Chuck was spent. Emotionally exhausted. It had been building all afternoon and had, finally, gotten to be too much. As they began to reboard the buses for the return trip to Stanford, he asked for a moment. Walking past the Men's restroom, he went to stand next to a large pine tree behind the park's power box. Sarah was suddenly by his side.
"Sarah," Chuck barely got out before breaking down. He fell into her arms, shaking. She hugged him tightly as he sobbed.
"It's OK, baby. I've got you. I've got you," she whispered. He felt her tears wetting his jersey. "Let it out, sweetheart. Just let it all out." She soothingly rubbed his back. He gratefully melted into her embrace.
Saturday May 4 – Stanford Hospital ICU – after 7:30pm, seven days after Chuck's injury
Sarah was worried. After a long day in the hospital, she was tired. Alternating between being by Chuck's side or out in the waiting lounge while other people had a chance to spend time with him took a toll. It was uplifting to see how many people hoped for his recovery, but it was also very draining. Being comforted by so many people and offering comfort in return was a lot to deal with. Chuck's parents and Ellie and Devon were in the same state she was in. Frazzled.
The worst part was that Chuck didn't seem to be getting any better. It had been a week, almost to the hour, since he'd been injured and he still hadn't woken up. The recording they'd made had been playing almost nonstop for days now. Chuck had to have heard the entire thing multiple times. The LTM readouts showed that he was hearing what everyone was saying and singing on the recording, but he hadn't found his way back to her. Not yet. What if he never woke up? What would she do? The thought terrified her and she had to fight off the tears suddenly brimming in her eyes. She squeezed his hand, cupping his cheek with her other hand, pouring her hope and will into her touch. She knew other people's hope was weakening and she struggled against those feelings. Their connection was still there, she felt it.
Even though articles had been published in the school newspaper and on campus websites about how long it could take for Chuck to come out of his 'coma', the crowd holding the vigil outside had slowly grown smaller as the days dragged on. And it could take him a lot longer to come back to himself. There was also her lingering fear that she didn't want to even think about at this stage.
The baseball team was getting despondent, too. They'd been reluctant to travel to Los Angeles for the weekend series against USC. It had taken an effort on the part of the coaches to get them to be willing to go. They'd played well enough to win the first game of the series on Friday, 8-3, but the early reports about the game going on right then on Saturday showed a team lacking energy and fire. Everyone remembered what had taken place the previous weekend. Despite his quirks, his teammates missed having him in the dugout.
"Please, Chuck. Please, come back to me. I feel so alone without you," Sarah begged. "Baby, I love you so much." Would she ever get a chance to say those words to him for real? She wanted to tell him and keep on telling him. She loved him and always would. She'd sung her feelings to him on the recording. More than once. He'd heard her sing those songs lots of times by now. Heard the words. What else could she do, besides keep telling him? Beg him to come back to her. Maybe she should sing a song directly to him, right beside him and out loud. If he remained in this condition or died, she didn't know what she would do. She stopped and frowned, trying to push her doubts aside, but they kept cropping up. How could she be sure he heard her saying or singing those most important words? The truth was, she couldn't. Her only choice was to just keep saying them and hoping. Never give up hope. Her Chuck was a fighter. She just had to have faith. Faith in him.
"Chuck. Baby, there's something I want to tell you, over and over. Something I need to tell you. Again and again," Sarah put all her love into her voice while she squeezed his hand again and rubbed her other thumb along his cheek. "Chuck, I love you. I love you and I have for a long time. I love you with all my heart. Come back to me, so I can look into your warm brown eyes when I tell you to your face. I love you." She knew she was repeating herself, but she didn't care. The more she poured out her feelings to him, the lighter and freer she felt, her heart unclenched somewhat, reminding her of when she'd confessed her feelings to her roommates back in the fall. She felt her hope surge, alongside her love. Sarah leaned over and kissed the corner of his mouth, like she'd been doing since the infection protocols had been lifted earlier in the week. Looking at Chuck's immobile face, she shrugged and thought, why not sing a song to him? He already knows anyway. Let him hear her. Clearing her throat, she began.
From this moment life has begun
From this moment you are the one
Right beside you is where I belong
From this moment on
From this moment, I have been blessed
I live only, for your happiness
And for your love, I give my last breath
From this moment on
…
Sarah had no way of knowing that Chuck was listening to the recording of her singing the exact same song as she was serenading him by his bedside.
…
(On the recording)
I give my hand to you with all my heart
I can't wait to live my life with you I can't wait to start
You and I will never be apart
My dreams came true because of you
From this moment, as long as I live
I will love you; I promise you this
There is nothing, I wouldn't give
From this moment on
…
(Present time – In Chuck's ICU room)
You're the reason I believe in love
And you're the answer to my prayers from up above
All we need is just the two of us
My dreams came true because of you
From this moment, as long as I live
I will love you; I promise you this
There is nothing, I wouldn't give
From this moment, I will love you
As long as I live from this moment on
…
Chuck felt an electric jolt. A snap. He could hear Sarah singing in his head and all around him. He'd reached the light. Finally. The light had thrown back the darkness. Sarah was singing from the light.
… No, that wasn't right. … Sarah wasn't in the light; Sarah was the light. … That was it. … Sarah was his light! … He understood, at last.
… Sarah was everything. … She filled his life and made him whole. … Sarah was his life! … He couldn't live without her. … He didn't want to live without her.
… But there was something else. Something more. … He could almost grasp it, but it was just-
Before he could begin to reason it out, the light enveloped him in it's warm loving embrace.
…
Chuck slowly opened his eyes, blinking and squinting against, what to him, was bright light. Someone was softly singing. When he tried to speak, all he could manage was a rough raspy sound due to long disuse. Trying again, he was able to whisper, so he croaked out a single word.
"S- Sarah?"
A/N2: Chapter title comes from the song by The Beatles. Chuck definitely needs help from his friends. And he gets it. The Polish love song that Sarah sings is called "Bo jesteś Ty" [Because You Are]. If anyone knows Polish and can correct the translation I found, please send me a PM and I'll correct it. Thanks. The last song Sarah sings to Chuck is "From This Moment On" by Shania Twain (Songwriters: Robert John Lange / Shania Twain).
A/N3: Modern middle schools have cameras in the halls to help in monitoring students, but none in the classroom (at least in the modern schools in our area). It's the responsibility of the teachers to monitor their own rooms. That didn't happen in this chapter.
A/N4: WillieGarvin gives way more than a 'little help' on my story. Even when a chapter is a bit off-key or off-kilter or otherwise out of whack, he doesn't stand up and walk out. Instead, he helps me work my writing into something worth reading. Thanks, my friend, for helping me to get by.
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, too.
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.