A/N: Chuck continues to heal. His wires and monitors have been removed. Most of them, at least. His work with Cole Barker is bearing fruit, as are his meetings with Dr. Dreyfus. Even Ellie has had a hand in helping her brother. What will Chuck do now?
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck. I make no money from Chuck.
Chapter 36 – Three Little Words
Saturday May 11 – Stanford Hospital ICU – 2:15pm, fourteen days after Chuck's injury
"He was out!" Chuck grumbled. The other people in the room chuckled at his vehement tone and his frown as he watched his teammates playing across the bay at Berkeley on the big screen TV.
Stephen and Mary had persuaded the ICU staff to permit Chuck to leave his room and join them to watch the second game in Stanford's series with the UC Berkeley Golden Bears. They wanted to spend some relaxed time with their son and the idea of watching a baseball game together had sounded like a good idea. Chuck had wheedled permission for them to use the conference room that was down the hall and back near the entrance to the ICU. It was perfect. The room contained a big-screen TV that was hooked into the Stanford system, so it would be able to show the game as it was being broadcast on the university's feed of the PAC-12 Network program. More importantly, the room was soundproofed, so that any meetings wouldn't disturb the patients in the nearby ICU rooms, but, in this case, it allowed the Stanford baseball fans to enjoy the game without fear of being told to keep it down.
The only way the ICU staff would allow Chuck out of his room, even though he was rapidly improving in both body as well as mind, was if he stayed in a wheelchair and took along his monitoring stand. The stand was mounted in a bracket at the back of the wheelchair and it made Chuck look like he was sitting under a TV antenna. He thought it looked silly, but if that was what it took to get him out of his room, he was all for it. The wheelchair and monitor stand came along with an orderly, Bruno Fiorentino, who was there to maneuver Chuck around and make sure that he was behaving as ordered by the medical staff. Chuck was too happy to be out of his room and watching baseball again, so he was on his best behavior. He didn't feel that yelling at the TV indicated bad behavior, medically speaking, at least.
His parents weren't the only people enjoying the game with Chuck. Cole and Gill Barker were on hand to watch the game and learn some of this strange sport's finer points as recounted by a current baseball player, Chuck, and a former baseball player, Stephen. It wasn't just watching the game, either. It was a bit of a celebration because, earlier that morning, Chuck and Cole finally reached a point where Chuck felt he'd finished sealing off his troublesome memories and had generally gotten his memories back under control. It had taken longer than either of them had anticipated, but they'd gotten it done. Chuck was visibly more relaxed than he had been since he woke up a week ago, although not completely at ease. That was something his sister took keen note of.
Devon and Ellie were taking a break from their studies to spend the afternoon with her family and enjoy a little down time by watching the game, as well. While it was true that Ellie was watching the game and enjoying it, she was also keeping an eye on her brother and the other occupants of the room. Those other people being Sarah and the CATS.
Ellie wasn't the only person keeping an eye on Chuck, Sarah was, as well. She was sitting next to his wheelchair, as close as she could manage, his hand firmly in her grasp, their fingers interlaced. Every so often, she'd glance over at him when he wasn't looking her way. He seemed relaxed and happy. On the surface. Chuck was enjoying the game and her company. When she had arrived, he'd greeted her warmly, standing to hug and kiss her hello, over the protests of his orderly, before quickly retaking his seat. His greeting had been particularly sweet and affectionate, much to the quiet delight of the other people in the room. When he looked at her, after their kiss, she could see the affection and warmth in his eyes that she'd gotten used to seeing, but she thought she saw something else swirling in the depths, some other emotion. Sarah hadn't been able to identify what she was seeing or feeling before he broke eye contact and sat back down. He hadn't resisted when she'd taken his hand. In fact, he seemed to lean toward her until their shoulders were touching, needing close contact with her, like always. Still, Sarah couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. No, not wrong. Not exactly. But something was off. Or different. Or something. Of that she was certain. Maybe if she got him talking, he'd let slip what was on his mind or, at least, give her some idea of what was going on. What was it he'd said about the Berkeley batter?
"Why do you say he was out, Chuck?" Sarah asked. She thought she heard Ellie snort softly. Chuck turned to her and frowned.
"That last pitch painted the black nearly perfectly," Chuck insisted. "Blue should have called it a strike. Instead, he called it a ball and gave that Eden kid first base. Damn it!"
"Chuck -," Mary warned.
"I know, Mom. I know. It's only a game," he said in a tone that sounded to Sarah, like he was repeating an oft taught lesson from his youth. "I need to find my Zen," he snorted. "Got it."
"Oh, brother!" Ellie groaned. Other people in the room chuckled at the exchange.
"What does 'painting the black' mean? Who's blue?" Sarah asked, squeezing Chuck's hand to redirect his attention back to her.
"Well, … ah … blue is a slang term for the umpire. Usually, the home plate umpire since he makes most of the calls a game," he explained.
"Why 'blue', though?"
"Umpires usually wear a uniform with a light blue shirt. Robin's egg blue, to be exact. So, players, and coaches, call them 'blue'," Chuck shrugged. "Some umpires don't like it and want us to either call them 'ump' or by their name. As a pitcher, I learned not to say anything because I don't want to make the umpires mad at me. It might cause them to make calls against me and in favor of the batters. Close calls, that is. Like that last pitch."
"Is that what you meant about 'painting the black'?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "The white part of Homeplate defines the width of the strike zone. Seventeen inches, side-to-side. The plate is surrounded by a beveled black border." Sarah nodded to show that she was following what he was saying, so far. "If any part of the pitched baseball crosses any of the white part of home plate, it's a strike. So, pitchers are taught to throw their pitches toward the black border of the plate. The black border isn't in the strike zone itself, but since a baseball is 2.86 inches in diameter, it is big enough to catch some of the white part of the plate and get the strike when it hits the black border. Batters tend to think those pitches aren't strikes and, so, don't swing at them as often. Pitchers and umpires know better. Usually." Everyone in the room was now listening to Chuck's explanation.
"So, what went wrong then?"
"The ball hit the black. That means enough of it also crossed over enough of the white part to be called a strike, like I said. The umpire didn't call it and gave us a ball, instead. If he keeps doing that, we say that he's squeezing the strike zone and the pitcher will have to throw the ball more over the plate to get strike calls. More of the baseball crossing the plate means more strikes, but it also means the hitters are more likely to make contact and get hits. More hits lead to more runs for the other team. And if that happens, Stanford is in for a very rough time today."
"Um … OK. Wow!" Sarah exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise. There really was more going on in baseball than most people saw or realized, especially her. Even after all of this time, she was still learning new things about the sport that meant so much to her boyfriend. She heard a soft groan and looked over at Mary in confusion.
"Feel my pain, Sarah," Mary twisted her lips to hide her grin and shook her head. "You only have to deal with my offspring. I've had to deal with him and his progenitor, both. All alone. For years." Giggles around the room.
"Mom!" Ellie protested. "What about me?"
"What about you?" Mary wanted to know. "You ran off as soon as you could and as fast as you could. Soccer. Activities. Friends. Boys. You left me high and dry." She made a face at her daughter.
"She's not wrong," Ellie admitted with a shrug. "I was smart enough to seek self-preservation." More giggles.
"Babe," Devon scolded her teasingly.
"Sorry not sorry," his girlfriend shrugged again. Some of the giggles gave way to laughter.
"Not saying anything in your defense, Dr. Bartowski?" Zondra asked Chuck's father.
"I've learned that discretion is the better part of valor," Stephen smirked.
"Very wise, dear," Mary patted her husband's arm. Zondra laughed. Others, including Cole Barker, joined in.
"This is my family," Chuck looked at Sarah, shaking his head and half smiling. "Can't you just feel the love?" Realizing what he'd just said, the word he'd used, he inhaled sharply and looked away, a blush beginning to redden his neck, then his cheeks.
Upon hearing Chuck say 'love', Sarah froze. She made an instant connection in her mind. Was that what she had seen swirling in Chuck's eyes? Was that the added element? The added depth of what she saw? Or thought she saw? What she felt from him? Her pupils dilated and her heart began to pound. Had he finally figured things out? She wanted to look at his eyes right then, but he'd turned back to watch the game, nervously chewing his lip. This time, when she reached over to reclaim his hand, he hesitated for just a split second. When he relented, the palm she clasped in hers was a little sweaty, but she pretended to ignore it as she, too, turned her attention to the TV.
Focused as she was, Sarah didn't notice Ellie, on the other side of the room, watching her and Chuck while she practically vibrated. Nor did she see Devon looking from her to Ellie and back again, gently touching his girlfriend's arm attempting to calm her down. Carina was more restrained, but just as observant.
Monday May 13 – Stanford Hospital ICU – 10:07am, sixteen days after Chuck's injury
"I'm worried," Chuck said as he chewed on his lower lip.
Chuck had been right about the outcome of the game on Saturday, whether or not his contention that the umpire was squeezing the strike zone was accurate. California (U Cal Berkeley) embarrassed Stanford 18-2. Stanford pitchers had given up a total of 20 hits and 7 walks with only 4 strikeouts. All-in-all, a bad day for the boys from Palo Alto. Sunday had been better when Stanford bounced back from the loss to take the final game 5-2, giving them the series two games to one. He'd watched the game with some of the same people that had been present on Saturday with the addition of Alex McHugh and a few of the other Songbirds. Even some of the ICU staff popped in from time to time to check on the fortunes of Stanford's team.
Chuck's awkward behavior of the previous day toward Sarah continued into Sunday. This time, more people noticed. Mary certainly did. Surprisingly, even Stephen took note of his son's obvious discomfort. No one said anything, but by the end of the afternoon, the only person wholly focused on the game was Chuck. Or so it seemed. Even he wasn't as focused on the game as people thought. A good portion of his mental focus was centered on trying to behave as normally as he could around Sarah. His less than stellar acting only reinforced people's opinions that something was going on with him. Something that he wasn't willing to give voice to. Yet.
"Are you OK, Chuck?" Sarah had asked once the game was over and he was back in his room. They were snuggled next to each other on his bed, him under the covers and her over them. Chuck was holding her as delicately as he ever had. Even more delicately than he had when she'd sprained her ankle. Like he was afraid that she'd break if he held her any tighter. Their kisses were nice, but Sarah could feel Chuck reining himself in. Holding back. It upset her. Particularly after what she'd thought she saw in his deep brown eyes on the day before.
"I'm fine, sweetie," Chuck lied. In an attempt to distract her, he lifted an errant strand of hair from her forehead and tucked it behind her right ear. "Being stuck in the hospital is just really beginning to bug me. Watching the guys out there playing and not being there with them is difficult for me to deal with." That was true, at least. He shrugged as best he could while lying flat on his back.
"Then hug me like you mean it. I won't break," Sarah admonished him, smiling.
"But I might," he teased. She snorted and hugged him tighter anyway.
Sarah knew he was being less than truthful with her and she thought knew why. His recent episode and his existing concerns about being intimate. She didn't know how, or if, she could reassure him. Maybe that was a job for Dr. Dreyfus. Unable to figure out a solution to that issue and with her inability to prompt Chuck into revealing what was on his mind, Sarah decided to spend the rest of their afternoon together just enjoying being able to spend time with her Chuck.
Monday morning had dawned cloudy and cool. Chuck thought that was a perfect description of his state of mind. His work with Cole was complete. In fact, Cole and Gill had left after the baseball game on Sunday and driven up to Napa for a well-deserved vacation courtesy of Chuck and his family. He and his parents had insisted. It was the least they could do after all of the help and support the two of them had shown Chuck, both in England when he attended school and now, when they'd dropped everything and flown halfway around the world to help him. The couple had been delighted with the surprise holiday, wasting no time hitting the road to begin enjoying it.
Chuck's Monday session had just begun with Dr. Dreyfus asking him about how his weekend had gone and how he was feeling.
"I'm worried," Chuck had repeated. "Or afraid. I'm not sure which, exactly."
"Why are you afraid?" Dr. Dreyfus asked, watching the younger man closely.
"Ellie …," Chuck began, thinking of his conversation with her about Sarah the previous Friday evening.
"Ellie?" Dreyfus looked a little surprised. "Why are you afraid of your sister?"
"What?" Chuck was confused. He'd been focused on Sarah, just then, not his sister. "I'm not afraid of my sister." He paused. "Although, she does still pack a mean punch and she can kick the heck out of me, when she wants to. Soccer, you know," he smirked.
"Chuck, be serious," the psychiatrist scolded him. "I can only help you if you're truly trying to deal with what's bothering you."
"Yes, Sir. Sorry," Chuck nodded, looking contrite.
"It's fine. Don't worry about it. Now, if you're not afraid of Ellie, what are you afraid of?"
"Sarah," Chuck admitted. The doctor's eyes widened, but he remained silent. Waiting. Chuck went on, "Well not Sarah, exactly. I'm afraid of my feelings for her."
"Ah," Dreyfus pursed his lips and nodded. "You're afraid of your feelings for your girlfriend."
"No, that's not it," Chuck shook his head, frowning, frustrated with himself. "I'm afraid of where my feelings will lead … I guess you could say."
"I see," the doctor wrote some things on his notepad. "What are your feelings for Miss Walker?"
"I love her," Chuck announced. Dreyfus merely nodded. "At least, I think I do. But I'm not certain. I thought so after talking with Ellie. Ellie seems to think so, too, but what if I only need her? Like a crutch, you know? What if what I'm feeling isn't love? What if I'm only using Sarah as an emotional crutch because I've never been around girls very much in the past? What if I'm mistaking how she feels? Reading too much into how she acts around me, toward me. Could I be doing that?"
"Let's see, shall we? How does Miss … ah … Sarah feel about you?"
"I'm not sure exactly. If I'm being completely honest," Chuck had to admit. "I mean, I know she likes me. Maybe even likes me a lot. She kisses me, after all. Holds my hand. All of that stuff. She's told me she likes me, but I don't know if she feels anything more than that." Dreyfus wrote more things on his notepad, flipping the page to continue.
"She's never told you she loves you?"
"No, she hasn't," Chuck admitted.
"Have you talked to her about her feelings? Or yours?"
"We've talked about liking each other," Chuck shrugged. "Ever since we met last fall, we've been getting closer and closer. Spending as much time together as we could with our busy schedules." The doctor nodded, writing.
"Have you ever been worried about your feelings for Sarah being reciprocated before last Friday? Before your talk with your sister?"
"No. Not really. It just sort of popped into my head before I felll asleep that night. That night after talking with Ellie, I mean." Another shrug.
"It sounds like you've spent a good part of your time since our last session thinking about this," Dr. Dreyfus commented. "What happened on Friday to cause you to have these thoughts? Anything besides your talk with Ellie?"
"Nope, that's it. I had a talk with Ellie about Sarah. About my feelings for Sarah," Chuck corrected himself.
"Alright. Why don't you tell me about this conversation?" The doctor sat back and smiled; his pen poised over his notepad.
Chuck took a deep breath and recounted the entire discussion with his sister, word for word. He made sure to stay in the present while he was telling the story, taking care to avoid getting lost in his head. When he was done, the doctor took a while writing notes, before looking up.
"OK. Now, I want to ask you about something you said earlier in the session." Dreyfus looked back over his notes. "Ah, here it is." He pointed at the page with his finger. "You said 'I'm afraid of where my feelings will lead'. What did you mean by that?"
Chuck reddened in embarrassment. "I was … um … referring to … um … sex."
"You're afraid of having sex with Sarah?" Dr. Dreyfus made some notes.
"Yeah, I am," Chuck stumbled, blushing. "I'm worried about losing control when … um … you know." His embarrassment increased along with his blush. He wasn't used to talking with relative strangers about such things.
"I see," Dreyfus nodded, taking more notes.
"Yeah, we talked about it last fall. After I told Sarah about my hyperthymesia and stuff. About my life. I told her that I was afraid of losing control." Chuck hesitated before forging ahead. "So, we agreed to experiment."
"Experiment?" The doctor was intrigued and couldn't completely hide it. "Tell me about these experiments." Chuck took another breath, preparing to speak, but Dr. Dreyfus held up his hand. "Better yet, how about you start with how and when you met Sarah and we'll go from there. Alright?"
So, Chuck told the psychiatrist about meeting Sarah and everything that had happened to them since that day. It took a good portion of the rest of the session but Dr. Dreyfus was interested in getting the entire story in a single sitting, so he sat quietly taking notes as the younger man talked. No one interrupted their discussion. When Chuck finished speaking, the doctor spent some minutes writing more things down.
"You and Sarah have certainly had an eventful year," Dr. Dreyfus concluded, after looking over his notes.
"I guess it's different from what most people go through, but that is kind of the description of my entire life," Chuck shrugged.
"That may be true for your academic work, Chuck. But, as we've already discussed, your physical and emotional development has been the same as any other healthy young man your age."
"I guess," Chuck didn't sound convinced.
The doctor wanted to get his patient to focus on his feelings for his girlfriend and not rehash his past experiences, unless they had to.
"When you talked with Ellie, didn't you tell her that you wanted Sarah to be happy?"
"Yeah, I did. I do want Sarah to be happy."
"Of course, you do," Dreyfus nodded. "Now, when you think about Sarah being happy, do you only see her being happy if you're there with her? Or do you think about her happiness even if you're not part of her life?"
"No," Chuck shook his head. "I just want her to be happy. Successful and living a fulfilled life, whatever that means to her. If I can be part of that, it would be wonderful. But if I can't, for some reason, I still want her to be happy."
"You told Ellie that you can't picture your life without Sarah. Would you still want her happiness even if you two were no longer together? Even if she left and you never saw her again, would you still want her to be happy? Even if you weren't? Be honest now."
"I just want her to be happy. Honest," Chuck said emphatically. "I'd love to be in her life. I'm desperate for it, but if I can't, I still would want her to live a happy life with someone she loves."
"Good. Now, when you're together and you're talking, do you listen to her? Do you ask her about her day, how's she feeling? Her plans for the next day or farther in the future? Those sorts of things?"
"Sure, we talk all of the time. About all sorts of stuff." Another shrug.
"Do you talk a lot about your hyperthymesia and your past?"
"Well, yeah, we did talk about that when I finally told her about it back in November, when I was trying to explain it all to her and her friends, but not so much since then. We talk about other things now. Her classes. My research. Baseball. Her Songbirds competitions. Our friends. Movies. You know … stuff."
Dreyfus smiled and nodded. "All perfectly normal, Chuck. Perfectly normal. Those are the same things most other university students talk about with each other."
"Are you saying that you don't think I'm using Sarah as an emotional crutch?"
"Think about all of what you just said, Chuck," the doctor urged him. "About all of the time you've spent with Sarah. About all of your conversations. Her helping you and you helping her. Supporting each other. Her singing and your baseball. Does that sound like you are using Sarah as an emotional crutch? Where you're taking more from her than you're giving her? That you care more about yourself than you do her?"
"No, I guess not."
"You're sharing your life with Sarah just like she's sharing her life with you, isn't that right?"
"Yeah, that's right, I guess."
"Now, isn't it possible that what you're feeling … What you talked with Ellie about … is the truth? You love Sarah. You're not using her, at all. Instead, you love her?"
"I guess you might be right, Doctor. Maybe I really am in love with Sarah."
Dreyfus could see and hear slow acceptance washing over his patient. His final doubts melting away. He looked at his watch. "Our time is just about up. Think about what we talked about overnight. We'll talk again tomorrow."
"Do you think I'm ready to be discharged, Doctor Dreyfus?" Chuck asked hopefully.
"I'll be meeting with Drs. Kurtz and McSparren in a little while and that is one thing we'll be discussing."
"That's great. Thank you," Chuck smiled. "How will that affect our meeting?"
"Whether you're still here or if you've been discharged, I want us to continue to meet daily. We'll have to work out when and where, but both of us are close to campus and you have a more flexible schedule than most people do, so that shouldn't be a problem."
"Probably not," the younger man agreed.
"OK then," Dreyfus zipped his portfolio closed and stood. "I'm off. Take care, Chuck. And do think about what we talked about today."
"I will, Doctor. Scout's honor. I promise," Chuck smiled and held his right hand up in the classic Boy Scout pledge position. The older man just smirked and shook his head, chuckling as he left the room.
Monday May 13 – Stanford Hospital Physical Therapy Department – 4:15pm, sixteen days after Chuck's injury
"This is embarrassing."
Bruno Fiorentino had wheeled Chuck over to physical therapy, which was located in the older hospital building, from the newer one where the adult ICU was located. The trip involved using the second floor skybridge, so Chuck had taken the opportunity to smile and wave to the people still holding vigil in the courtyard below. Some of the people had smiled and waved back to him. He could even hear a few cheers through the glass walls of the passageway.
He and Bruno hadn't made the trip alone, either. Sarah had been offered the opportunity to see the PT department, where she would be spending a lot of time in the coming years, in person and a chance to observe the therapists on staff working with Chuck. She'd been delighted to accept on both accounts. Mary and Stephen were also along for the ride, hovering near their son, clearly interested to see how he handled the first physical activity since his injury. There was a time Chuck would have resented their presence, feeling that they were meddling in his life. Now, he was just grateful for their loving concern, realizing it had been the case all along. His misplaced anger at their attempts to help him had previously prevented him from seeing the truth. He had glanced at Sarah's hand holding his, his gaze traveling the length of her arm until it settled on her face. Giving her hand a squeeze, he'd smiled up at her while she returned both the smile and squeeze in kind. Chuck knew that his new and more upbeat outlook on life had a lot to do with his amazing and beautiful girlfriend. When they'd reached the PT department, Chuck hadn't been all that surprised to see Coach Casey waiting alongside a man and a woman. The man introduced himself as Karl Herrmann. His partner's name was Julia Balough. Both of them were Doctors of Physical Therapy on staff at the hospital and with Stanford's PT school. They'd been pleased to meet Sarah and welcomed her to the program. Sarah's smile had made Chuck giddy with happiness. He couldn't wait for her to begin to start living her dream.
Coach Casey had provided the PTs with Chuck's fitness reports from his last workouts prior to him being injured. He was on hand to observe Chuck's current physical status and design an updated workout regimen with input and advice from the attending DPTs. His friendly concern for Chuck's well-being surprised the younger man since it was so at odds with the taciturn military demeanor he'd always displayed previously.
"Hi, Coach Casey," Chuck had smiled.
"Hi, Chuck. How're you feeling?" Casey had grinned, shaking the pitcher's hand.
"I guess I'm about to find out," Chuck had shrugged. "But I'm ready to get out of here. More than ready."
"That's part of what we're here to assess, Chuck," Dr. Herrmann had told him. "We need to make sure that no issues have cropped up from the blow to the head you took and to see how your current fitness matches up against where you were back in April. Alright?"
"Sounds good to me, Doc," Chuck had grinned.
"We'll see," Dr. Balough had smiled cryptically.
Now, Chuck was being tested. They were running him through a full gamut of exercises and routines to check his balance, dexterity, agility, and strength. He had wireless sensors attached all over his body and they were sending a continuous stream of data to the tablets in the doctors' hands. Coach Casey, Sarah, and his parents were clustered around a data cart off to the side, watching the same information flow down the screen.
"Don't be embarrassed, Chuck," Karl told him. "You're doing great."
"If you say so," Chuck frowned. "I'm kind of surprised that I've fallen as low as I have on these tests."
"Don't forget that you were in a coma for eight days and have been confined to a bed for a further eight days. You've been up and about for the last few days, but nowhere near your activity levels from before you got hurt," Dr. Balough reminded him. "And you have to factor in the fact that you've not worked out at all, either."
"Yeah, you're right, Doctor," Chuck agreed. "I've just never been in this position before. Besides that time I sprained my ankle, I should say. And I wasn't doing the workouts at the same level back then like I am now. I'm in much better shape now. Or I was."
"It's going to take time, Chuck. You're healthy and strong. You'll bounce back before you know it," Coach Casey promised. "It may take you longer than you might want, that's all."
"Will I be able to pitch again before the season is over, do you think, Coach?"
Casey sucked in a breath before speaking. "Let's try and focus on you doing these tests, so you can get out of here first, huh? We'll worry about the rest of it once you accomplish that task." He looked over at Stephen and Mary and shared a knowing look.
Chuck sighed, "Will do, Coach."
"Don't forget," Sarah reminded him. "I want you out of here too, Chuck."
"No way I can forget that, Sarah."
"Good," Sarah smiled. "So, buckle down and focus. I need my Chuck back pronto," she teased.
"Even better," Dr. Herrmann chuckled. Coach Casey's eyes twinkled as he shared a small smile with the Drs. Bartowski.
Wednesday May 15 – Stanford Hospital ICU – 12:20pm, eighteen days after Chuck's injury
"Have it, Morgan?"
Chuck's doctors had met to discuss his case on Tuesday, after the morning rounds. They'd ordered a follow-up MRI to see how his skull fracture was healing as well as the burr hole from the cranial monitor. Once that was accomplished, they'd make their determination on whether Chuck was ready to be released or not. The scan had taken place earlier on Wednesday morning just after breakfast and before his latest session with Dr. Dreyfus. As promised, the doctors reviewed the MRI results and, after another conference, had given Chuck the good news. He was going to be released later today! The hospital staff called to inform his parents while he called and told Sarah the wonderful news. Her delighted squeal would have given Ellie a run for her money.
Hoping that his days in the hospital were numbered, Chuck had called Morgan the previous day and asked a huge favor from his old friend, sending him out into the surrounding community on a mission. That mission was apparently a success, if the bags in his friend's hands were any indication. Morgan stood before him with a silly grin on his face.
"Of course, I've got it, dude. What do you take me for? Have I ever failed you?" Morgan looked and sounded affronted. Chuck gave him a flat look, so he shrugged and nodded.
"Great! Let me see it," Chuck said, giggling when Morgan opened one of the bags. "It's perfect. Are those my clothes in the other bag?"
"Yup, brought everything you asked for. Can't have my best friend going out in public in his PJs and bathrobe, now can I?" Chuck snorted at his friend's goofy expression. "I'm just sorry that I can't be here when you get released," Morgan pouted. "They don't cancel practice for anything."
"They shouldn't, Morgs," Chuck replied seriously. "We're deep into the season with a decent chance to win the conference. The coaches can't have the team get distracted with anything. Even me." He paused. "Especially me."
"Don't say that, Chuck," his roommate admonished him, but when Chuck tilted his head and gave him a 'really?' look, Morgan relented. "I get it. You're right. I know that, but you deserve for people to be here for you. The whole team is looking forward to having you back out there with us."
"Sarah will be here," Chuck said, stating the obvious.
"Wow! OK. OK. I see now," Morgan grinned, shaking his head. He really was happy for his friend, but ragging on each other was part of the bro code. "I see how it is."
"Yup," Chuck smiled. "Not sorry, either."
"You shouldn't be, dude. You shouldn't be."
Wednesday May 15 – Stanford Hospital – 3:00pm, eighteen days after Chuck's injury
It wasn't too long after Morgan left Chuck's room for baseball practice that Chuck's discharge process began. A procession of administrators and nurses came and went with forms to fill out and papers to sign. Since Chuck was a Stanford athlete and had been injured while engaged in his sport and he was being treated in Stanford's own hospital, there would be no issues with insurance coverage. Even if there was, his company's insurance would have taken up any slack. And there was always his money, when all else failed. He knew that it might have been somewhat more complicated if he'd been injured during an away game at another school, so he was thankful for small favors. And being at Stanford Hospital meant that he saw a lot more of Sarah. He was thankful for that even more.
Follow-up rechecks were scheduled for further MRIs, so were physical therapy reviews. Dr. Dreyfus came by himself to congratulate Chuck on reaching this milestone in his recovery and to confirm their ongoing schedule of therapy sessions. While the psychiatrist was there, Chuck's parents arrived and they spent some time catching up and visiting with their friend. Chuck tried to focus on reviewing the various papers that each person in the discharging procession had left with him, but he had to restrain himself from leaping out of bed in anticipation.
Sarah showed up, with the CATS in tow, about thirty-five minutes before Chuck's scheduled discharge time. Right on their heels came Dr. Kurtz, Dr. McSparren, and Dr. Green along with Dora Parker. While Ms. Parker busied herself removing the last basic monitoring devices still remaining attached to Chuck, the lead doctor spoke.
"We're going to be going out with you, Chuck. Lisa Pendley from PR will be there, too. Just in case there are any reporters there, so Ms. Pendley can handle it if anything comes up," Dr. Kurtz explained. "Dr. Dreyfus won't be there so there won't be any issues with people asking questions about that part of your recovery. That part doesn't really have anything to do with your public injury anyway." Dreyfus nodded to let Chuck know that he was the source of that decision.
"OK, by me," Chuck shrugged. "I'm just happy to be getting out of here. I'm looking forward to eating regular food and sleeping in my own bed." Some chuckles.
"I can understand that," Dr. Kurtz smiled. "A steady diet of hospital food could affect anyone." More chuckles.
"Do you want to take a shower and get cleaned up before you escape or did you have time to do that already?" Nurse Parker asked.
"No, I haven't and yes, I would," Chuck grinned. "I can't greet the world with bedhead hair, can I? That would just be wrong."
"Sorry to break it to you, Curls, but you ain't got no curls right now," Zondra teased. Smiles and some chuckles around the room.
"Ouch, that hurts. Teasing a brain injury patient. What's the world coming to?" Chuck pouted outrageously.
"Get used to it, Chuckles," Carina smirked. "Once you get out of here, you're back in our clutches." The CATS giggled.
"I may be back in her clutches," Chuck inclined his head and smiled toward Sarah, "but I'm not so sure about you three." The elder CATS all shook their heads and pretended to frown, but they knew he was absolutely correct.
"Don't worry, baby. I'll protect you. I promise," Sarah grinned and winked at him. Mary and Stephen looked at each other and smiled, shaking their heads at the young peoples' antics.
"And on that note, we'll leave you now, so you can get ready," Dr. Kurtz smiled.
"OK everyone, let's give the man some privacy so he can make himself pretty for his adoring public," Dora teased as she shepherded the others from the room.
"Et Tu Parker?" Chuck's eyes widened in surprise.
"That's Et Tu Nurse Parker to you, mister," the older woman said while wagging her finger in Chuck's face, grinning. Sobering, she continued, "Are you OK to take a shower on your own or do you want me to go get an orderly so he can be standing by if you run into trouble?"
"Thanks, but no, Ms. Parker," Chuck smiled crookedly at her. "I think I am OK. I better be, right? Otherwise, I'll be right back in here."
"You've got that right, Chuck," Dora nodded. As she left the room, she added, "I'll close the curtain, so you don't end up giving everyone a free show."
"More like free nightmares," Chuck snorted.
The curtain began closing as soon as the door swung shut. He didn't see Dora shaking her head at his cluelessness. If she were a younger woman, she'd entertain thoughts about giving Sarah Walker a run for her money. There weren't many men so effortlessly cute and charming as Chuck Bartowski. And he had no idea. None at all. That made it even better.
Sighing, Chuck got out of bed and stripped off his pajamas. He walked over to the closet and collected his dopp kit from the top of the small two drawer dresser tucked into one side of the enclosure. The bag containing his surprise was nestled up on the shelf above his hanging clothes. He giggled thinking about the looks on people's faces when he unveiled what the bag contained.
The shower was luxurious and Chuck basked in the warm cascade of water. He was getting out! Going home! Well, back to the dorm, anyway. Back to his friends. Back to Sarah. It took an effort for him not to let out a whoop of happiness. Instead, he focused on the task at hand, showering with his own shampoo and trusty Ivory soap and then shaving. He studied his reflection in the mirror. His bruises were beginning to fade from black and blue to green and yellow, the skin still tender but not as much as a week ago. The PTs were right, he did look thinner. Tired, too. He was looking forward to sleeping in his bed back at the dorm. It might not be as quiet as his bed at home in Burbank, but the dorm would be quieter than the ICU had been with its constantly beeping machines and general hospital commotion of doctors and nurses tending to other patients. Oh, and the frequent nurse visits that interrupted his sleep. After towel drying his short shock of hair, being careful around the sore area the cranial monitor previously occupied, he splashed on his aftershave, the soft cedar smell comforted him. He felt almost like he usually did after a nice shower, like an actual human being and ready to face the rest of the day. That is until he looked at himself in the mirror again and was reminded that he was sans curls. Snorting, he shook his head at himself. He was about to walk out of the small bathroom to get dressed when he paused, thinking. After a couple of beats, he grabbed his damp towel and wrapped it around his lower torso. When he entered his room proper, he saw that the curtain was being closed again. Someone had opened them after Dora had closed them.
"Carina!" came a voice that sounded like Sarah.
"Well, damn. You can't blame a girl for trying, can you?" That was definitely Carina's voice.
Yup, he'd guessed correctly, happy for his towel and certain that he'd dodged another potentially embarrassing moment at the hands of the red-haired singer.
Chuck returned to the closet and gathered the clothes Morgan had brought him earlier. Throwing off the towel, he quickly dressed, not trusting that the curtain would remain closed for very long. He was repacking his backpack when there was a knock at the door.
"Are you decent, Chuck?" Nurse Parker called out in a sing-song voice.
"Sure, come on in," he said.
"Darn," Dora grinned when she came in. Chuck smirked and giggled at the overblown disappointed look on her face. The CATS had trained him well. "Are you ready? It's just about that time."
"Yeah, I'm almost there. I just need to put the last couple of things in my pack and get that bag off of the shelf in the closet," he said as he finished stuffing his backpack. Dora was too short to reach the shelf, so she waited for him to retrieve the bag himself.
"Hospital protocol says that you have to go out in a wheelchair," Dora said apologetically, knowing it might offend the athlete's pride, but Chuck just nodded in understanding.
"What happens once we exit the building?"
"You're on your own. Not my problem any longer," Parker grinned and shrugged her shoulders.
"So kind," Chuck deadpanned.
Dora giggled, reaching in to give him a hug. "I'm getting my hug in before all of the ruckus starts. I'm going to miss you, Chuck. We all are. You've been a model patient. This has been an interesting experience for everyone."
Chuck hugged her back. "For you and me, both," he grinned, before sobering. "Thanks for everything, Ms. Parker. I hope to see y'all at a baseball game some time."
"You just might. Be sure and do that the PTs tell you. Take the time to heal up. We loved having you and that girl of yours here, but please don't make a repeat visit. If you know what I mean. Be careful and stay safe."
"I do and I will," he smiled. "And I have no plans for any repeat visits. Thanks just the same."
"Good boy," Dora grinned. Turning to the door, she called out, "Bruno, he's ready. Come on in." The orderly appeared, pushing a wheelchair before him.
"You ready, Chuck?" Bruno asked.
"Let's do this," he smiled, taking his seat, his backpack and the bag centered on his lap.
"What's in the bag, Chuck?" Dora asked.
"Things," he grinned, saying nothing else. The nurse cocked an eyebrow but didn't ask for clarification. Chuck looked around the room one last time then pointed at the doorway. "Onward, my good man." Bruno started to push the wheelchair out of the room, chuckling all the while.
As he exited the room, Chuck saw all staff on shift, not otherwise dealing with other patients, gathered along one side of the hall, smiling at him. His parents, Sarah, and the CATS were near the grouped staff, their own smiles plastered to their faces.
"Well, I guess this is good-bye, everybody," Chuck grinned, too happy to be leaving to get emotional right that moment.
"Stop trying to make out with baseballs and so there is no next time, Chuck," a male voice from the crowd teased. More than a few people laughed, along with Chuck.
"I'll do my best. I promise," he nodded. "Thank y'all for everything. I couldn't have asked for better care. Thank you." His response drew soft claps from some people that continued as others joined in. Even a few happy tears for his recovery. Bruno turned the chair and wheeled him out of the ward. After a couple of steps, Sarah came up alongside him and took his hand. She took note of the fact that she caught the familiar scent of Ivory soap, cedar, and Chuck. She sighed in happiness. The assembled staff said 'Aww' almost in unison. The remaining CATS and his parents trailed behind the young couple, smiling all the while.
Drs. Kurtz, McSparren, and Green were waiting for the group in the atrium near the main doors. So was Dr. Loveless. He was beside Lisa Pendley from the PR Department.
"Today's the day, Chuck," Dr. Loveless smiled.
"Yes, Sir. It is," Chuck replied. "I'm not ungrateful. Just the opposite, in fact, but it's about time. I just want to get up and walk around campus again."
"Not until you exit the building, young man," Dr. Kurtz admonished him, smiling. "We can't have you flouting hospital rules."
"Wouldn't think of it, Doctor."
"About that walk, too," Kurtz went on. "Remember that you promised to take it easy and rest for the remainder of this week. You're still healing and have a way to go yet. You can walk, but don't overdo it. And stay out of your lab, too. No work for the rest of the week, too. Like you promised. Once you come in for your recheck first thing next Monday, we'll remove the restrictions on you."
"Yes, Sir," Chuck pouted.
"I'll make sure he doesn't get into his lab, don't you worry about that," Dr. Loveless tried to look sternly at his star pupil.
"Well, shoot. Nobody lets me have any fun," the recovering student groused to amusement of the surrounding group.
Sarah hoped she would get some time just to be alone with her boyfriend after so long. Their being together would keep Chuck both distracted and focused at the same time. They had a lot of kisses to catch up on, after all. That thought brought a renewed smile to her lips.
When the automatic doors whooshed open, Bruno pushed Chuck outside for the first time in two and a half weeks. He couldn't help grinning.
"Free at last!" he called out.
The answering cheer caught him off guard.
There, in the space between the two hospital buildings, was a medium sized crowd waiting to greet him, the last die-hard remnants of his army of supporters. Some people were carrying signs saying 'Welcome Back, Chuck!' and similar sentiments. Bill Krug, from the Palo Alto Daily Post, was there, too.
Lisa Pendley and the PR department had set up a microphone stand in anticipation of needing to field questions from the media. She smiled and gestured toward Chuck offering him a chance to respond. He looked over the crowd chewing on his lower lip. Feeling Sarah squeeze his hand, Chuck looked up at her sheepishly. She smiled and nodded her head. He sighed and reluctantly nodded in response. Setting his backpack down next to the wheelchair, he stood and approached the microphone carrying the mysterious bag. The assembled crowd cheered when they saw him moving on his own. Chuck snorted and shook his head. I hurt my head not my legs, he thought to himself.
"Thank y'all. It's good to be back. Or out, I should say," Chuck said when he reached the mic stand.
"How're you feeling?" Krug wanted to know.
"Like I got hit in the head by a batted baseball," Chuck smirked when he saw the reporter's face turn red. He could hear laughter and cat-calls coming from the crowd.
"I asked for that," Bill laughed at himself. Chuck grinned and shrugged. "Seriously, though. How are you feeling?"
"I'm OK. Better. Much better. Thanks," Chuck smiled.
"What's next for you? How soon will you be back out on the field with the team?" Lisa Pendley stepped toward the mic, but Chuck answered before she got there.
"I'll defer any medical question to my doctors," he said, indicating the men behind him. Lisa paused and nodded when she heard him say that. "As for me, I plan on taking a nap and then eating some food that isn't hospital food." Lots of laughter in the crowd.
"Do you have any comments about your care while in the hospital?" the reporter asked.
"It was the best. Outstanding. Everyone was wonderful. I couldn't have received better care. I'm very, very grateful," Chuck answered sincerely. Lisa nodded again. The medical staff present all beamed.
"What's in the bag, Chuck?" Someone yelled from the crowd.
"Why'd you let them shave off all of your nice curls?" That question came from a pretty brunette student holding a sign that said 'Welcome back, handsome!' and standing in the front of the crowd.
Chuck blushed. Sarah glared at the girl who had the good sense to look contrite and shove the sign behind her. Then Chuck giggled.
"The answers to both questions are related," he began. "They had to shave my head as part of my treatment. I'll let them elaborate on that question. As for the bag … " He paused to open the bag and pull out what it contained. People in the front of the crowd saw what it was and began to laugh. Then Chuck took what Morgan had brought him and placed it on his head. It was an exaggerated brown pompadour wig. Elvis Presley hair for the uninitiated. Now more people were laughing. Mary and Stephen both had their mouths twisted to the side hiding their mixed frown and smile and shaking their heads at their son's antics.
"It's muh substitute fur muh har! Ah thank yuh vurry much," Chuck said in a terrible Elvis accent and attempted an even worse lip curl.
"Oh, good grief," Carina snorted before joining Amy and Zondra giggling at their friend. It was good to have him back with them.
Sarah was shaking her own head, but couldn't hide her amusement, so she looked up like she was asking for divine guidance. Her Chuck had come a long way since they first met. She stepped up to the microphone next to him. "Apparently Chuck's brain was injured worse than we thought!" She smirked and raised an eyebrow at her boyfriend. He shrugged and grinned back at her. The crowd roared their approval.
"Ah thunk that's muh cue ta exit stage right!" Chuck inclined his head to the crowd and took Sarah's hand in his. The roar of laughter got louder. He turned and told Lisa Pendley, "It's all yours, Ms. Pendley. Thanks." She smiled, stifling her own giggle at his silliness, and walked to the mic to address the crowd. He walked over to the waiting medical staff and shook each of their hands, including Bruno's. "Thank y'all. For everything. I owe you my life. I'll never forget it." The doctors and nurses and other staff nodded their appreciation and acknowledgement.
Sarah smiled her agreement with Chuck's comments. She owed them so much for bringing her Chuck back to her, not considering how big a part she played in that effort. Turning to her boyfriend she said, "Let's go home, baby." He turned to her and grinned. When they kissed, everyone who could see them started clapping, but they didn't hear any of it. They were lost in each other.
Chuck and Sarah rode back to the dorm with his parents, holding hands the entire way. The CATS followed in Carina's car. Mary and Stephen hugged their son and his girlfriend when they got out of the car outside Roble Hall. They wanted to spend more time with him, but they understood that it might be better for him to spend time with Sarah and his friends for a while, first. Try and get back to normal as quickly as he could.
"What are your plans for tonight?" Chuck asked when the hugs were concluded.
"We're headed over to the Graham's. Langston's cooking steaks and we're all going to relax," Stephen informed his son. "What about you?"
Chuck smiled. "That sounds nice. I'm going to take a nap. I'm more tired than I realized. Then it'll be dinner at Lakeside like normal. I need normal right now."
"We know you do, Charles," Stephen smiled knowingly at his son. He saw his son's 'normal' standing next to him. He glanced over at Mary, understanding Chuck's feelings perfectly.
"You know the kids are going to go wild when they see you, don't you?" Sarah warned him.
"Probably," Chuck sighed. "Hopefully, they'll let me relax and eat."
"Leave the wig in your room and you should be OK, sweetie," she grinned. Mary snorted and shook her head.
"Not a problem, believe me," he replied.
"You kids have fun," Mary said. "Get some sleep, Chuck. Remember you're still healing."
"I know, Mom. And I will. I promise," Chuck said.
"I'll keep an eye on him, Dr. Bartowski. Don't you worry," Sarah gave him a faux stern look, but smiled at his mother.
"Oh, I have no doubt about that, at all," Mary teased. Sarah's cheeks pinked cutely, but she shyly smiled and nodded.
The elder Bartowskis got back in the car and drove off, after a final good-bye. They'd promised to stay until Sunday before returning to Burbank, hoping to spend some more time with both of their children and, maybe, take in more baseball games. Chuck shouldered his backpack and Sarah carried the bag containing his wig. They held hands as they made their way to his room. People kept interrupting their journey with happy greetings upon seeing Chuck, so they didn't have any chance to talk to each other. When they finally reached his room, Sarah could see that Chuck hadn't been exaggerating. He really did look tired. She dropped the bag on his desk, while he placed his pack next to his chair. Their eyes met and they were hugging each other before either of them realized it, giggling happily as they embraced.
"I'll let you get some sleep, sweetie," Sarah said softly, resting her head against his chest. "How about I come get you for dinner at about 6pm?"
"Would you mind staying?" Chuck asked hesitantly. "I liked it when you snuggled with me in the hospital. This time there won't be any wires or tubes at all, just you and me."
"Trying to make up for lost time, are you?" she teased, pleased to have him asking for her company.
"Yeah, I am, Sarah," Chuck looked at her frankly. "That and I really don't want to be alone right this minute."
"OK, I'll stay," Sarah whispered, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on his lips. She wanted desperately to tell him what she was feeling and have him tell her about what she thought she'd seen in his eyes the previous weekend, but she held back. It just didn't feel like the right time. Not then. But soon. Very soon.
They took off their shoes. Chuck lay down on his bed and Sarah molded herself to his right side. He wrapped his arm around her as she melted into him. She reached across his chest and hugged him, their feet intertwining. Their eyes met and they shared a soft kiss.
"I'm so glad to be back here with you," Chuck smiled tiredly.
"Me too, baby. So glad," Sarah replied, cupping his face and running her thumb along his cheek before returning to holding him. She heard his breathing begin to even out and he was quickly asleep. Laying her head on his shoulder, she soon followed.
Friday May 17 – Klein Field – 6:00pm, twenty days after Chuck's injury
Sarah was looking around at the crowd. There was a rumor going around campus that Chuck Bartowski was going to be at the game today against the Oregon State Beavers. Maybe even dressed out and sitting in the dugout, not to play, of course, but be there just the same. After all of the worry and drama that had gripped the school for the last few weeks, people wanted to be part of a happy ending. The stands were filled to capacity in anticipation of seeing something joyous and magical.
She was sitting with the other Bartowski Backers, the CATS on one side, Ellie and Devon on the other. The rest of the Songbirds and other friends spread out around them. Chuck's parents were behind her, sitting next to Dr. Beckman and Dr. Montgomery. Kathleen McHugh and Anna Graham were there, as well. Everyone had become close during their shared ordeal. It wasn't going to be as raucous as things might normally get with the Backers, since Chuck wasn't pitching. Still, she was excited to be there watching a game without the constant fear she'd been living with since she'd first heard about her boyfriend getting hurt. Finally, she could relax. Mostly.
Sarah was getting impatient. Not with herself or with Chuck. It was the circumstances she kept finding herself in. She wanted to tell Chuck she loved him, but not just any old place and not in just any old way. Hey, Chuck, by the way, I love you in the middle of dinner wouldn't cut it. This was important stuff. They weren't discussing school work or some random topic, after all. She wanted it to be romantic. She wanted to hold him in her arms and look deeply into his warm brown eyes. Wanted him to feel the depth and full force of her feelings for him. If his injury and kind-of-coma had taught her anything, it was not to wait to say the important things. And this was the most important thing of all and she was saying it to the most important person of all.
The problem was real life kept coming between them. After sharing a nap together, the afternoon Chuck got out of the hospital, they'd woken up to find Morgan in the room sitting quietly at his desk studying. He'd gotten back from baseball practice while they'd been asleep. With their privacy lost, they'd gone to dinner at Lakeside just like old times. As she'd predicted the other students erupted into happy cheers when they saw their friend and fellow student was back amongst them. Of course, the Songbirds all wanted to hug and congratulate him on his release from the hospital and kept peppering him with questions that he'd graciously answered. Sarah had had to step in to make him stop talking and eat his food before it got completely cold, much to the amusement of the other singers and their friends in the surrounding tables. Morgan had begged for Chuck to spend some time hanging out with him. While it irked Sarah, she couldn't see how she could stand between the two old friends spending some time together. The plan had been for them to watch movies together in their room, but Chuck told her later, the next day, that he'd fallen asleep only partway into the first movie. At least Morgan had the good sense to cajole Chuck into climbing into bed so he could sleep more comfortably. Then he'd gone off to find Alex, which Sarah did have to giggle about. Those two couldn't get enough of each other and she did her best to not be jealous.
Sarah had spent all of Thursday neck-deep in schoolwork. She had an extreme case of senioritis, but, at the same time, her pride wouldn't allow her to drop the ball completely or coast into the end of her final undergrad year. So, she worked, even if she didn't want to, knowing all the while that her reluctance and distraction meant that the work took her longer to complete than it would have otherwise. Darn you, Chuck Bartowski, she'd tried thinking. She might be able to lie to other people (not really), but she couldn't lie to herself. I'm such a sap, she'd admitted silently. The sad thing was, Sarah hadn't seen him outside of meals. Since Chuck was still on enforced rest and idleness, he'd made a point to meet her for each meal, in turn.
"I'm going stir crazy, Sarah," he'd pouted. The goofy face he'd worn had made her laugh.
"I'm not laughing at you, sweetie. I promise. It's just that goofy expression you made. Honest," she'd grinned when he'd pulled his head back in disbelief. "It's only for a few more days. They'll let you get back to work soon."
"I hope so," Chuck had grumbled.
"Look on the bright side," Sarah had told him. "You're going to be able to go to the baseball game tomorrow and hang out with the guys. That'll be fun, right?"
"Yeah, you're right. It will be," he'd admitted. "It's something to look forward to. Besides, seeing you, that is," he quickly added.
"Good save, Bartowski," she'd giggled before kissing him.
Now, she was anxiously waiting for the game to start. No one had said anything, but Sarah was sure the baseball team had some plan to get Chuck out of the dugout so all of the people in the stands could see him and welcome him back. As soon as she had that thought, the public address system came on and they began the pre-game announcements. After the normal announcements there was a pause.
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" the speakers blared. Sarah could hear Big Mike's voice on her earphones repeating the same words on his radio broadcast.
"Look who showed up in the Stanford dugout!"
"He's back!"
"Chuck Bartowski!"
Sarah saw some of the other players smiling as they pushed her boyfriend out of the dugout. He frowned at them over his shoulder, before turning to the crowd, smiling and waving. It was so good to see him standing there wearing his uniform, just like before he got hurt. Then the PA system kicked in again, playing John Fogerty's "Centerfield" song.
Well, beat the drum and hold the phone - the sun came out today!
We're born again, there's new grass on the field.
A-roundin' third, and headed for home, it's a brown-eyed handsome man;
Anyone can understand the way I feel.
When the song reached the words 'brown-eyed handsome man', the crowd erupted in cheers. Chuck blushed crimson. Sarah was smiling so wide her cheeks hurt. When the chorus followed next, the entire stadium sang along.
Oh, put me in, Coach - I'm ready to play today;
Put me in, Coach - I'm ready to play today;
Look at me, I can be Centerfield.
Chuck had tears in his eyes. Sarah could tell even from where she sat in the stands. She had tears in her eyes, so she understood a little of what he was feeling. She knew how desperately he wanted to be out there playing. Helping the team any way he could. He didn't realize that him just being there helped out a lot. Looking around she saw that everyone around her had tears in theirs, too. Chuck put both hands on his heart and then spread them out to indicate all of the people in the stands. He pointed at himself and shook his head emphatically NO! He pointed to the crowd and patted his heart before spreading his arms out to the crowd again.
"What's he doing?" Carina asked.
"He's trying to thank them for all of their love and support when he was in the hospital. He's telling them how much he loves them," Sarah said as she began to cry. She felt Carina squeeze her arm at the same time Ellie put her arm around her from the other side.
"My stupid brother hates makeup," Ellie pretended to whine.
"I … I know," Sarah nodded, trying to wipe her eyes. "It's like he's got … got a phobia or something."
"The big jerk," Carina added.
"Watch it, Red. That's my big jerk you're talking about," Sarah frowned theatrically at her roommate.
The three young women laughed and shook their heads at each other. None of them bothered to notice the adults behind them looking at each other with knowing smiles of their own.
Down on the field, Chuck had taken off his baseball hat and taken a bow. When the crowd saw his head with only a week's growth of new hair, they called out in feigned alarm. He grinned and ran back in the dugout. When he came back out, he was wearing his brown Elvis wig again, his hat perched precariously on top. He raised both hands and pointed at his new 'hair' and the crowd roared with laughter.
Coach Graham came out of the dugout, heading to the coach's meeting at home plate. He smiled and patted Chuck on the shoulder. Chuck nodded. Taking a final bow and waving his thanks to the crowd, he returned to the dugout. It was game time.
Chuck and Sarah were finally alone, walking hand-in-hand on their well-trod path around campus. They were happy and relaxed, but not completely relaxed, at the same time. Stanford had won the game, 8-5, thanks to some good hitting. It was after 9pm when the game ended, so the CATS and Alex ordered pizza and went back to the dorm to wait on both the pizza delivery and Chuck and Morgan's return. The friends gathered in the CATS' suite to enjoy the food and the simple pleasure of all of them being together again. As soon as the meal was done (with Chuck and Morgan doing most of the damage) and the trash had been cleared away, Alex and Morgan took off to be by themselves, trailing gentle laughter in their wake. Chuck and Sarah had excused themselves soon after, ignoring the playful jibes from the three older CATS.
Sarah wanted to tell Chuck how she felt. This was the perfect time, she knew it. The problem was, she had butterflies in her stomach. After the weeks of waiting and hoping, she was nervous. Maybe, if she got him talking about something else, she could calm her nerves enough to finally tell him the truth, after all this time.
"Chuck, can I ask you a question?"
"Sure, Sarah. You can ask me anything," Chuck smiled at her. She could tell he was nervous about something, too. His hand was a little sweaty. There would be time to ask him about that later.
"While you were … um … in the hospital, Dr. Bainbridge and Dr. Loveless came by early on," Sarah said.
"Yeah?"
"Well, they told us … Your parents and me, that is. They told us that you had planned on getting forty PhDs by going to all of your schools remotely at the same time as you were here at Stanford."
"They told you that? Why?" Chuck asked petulantly.
"They didn't mean to. It just came out from an off-hand comment Dr. Bainbridge made. Your mom asked him about it and wouldn't stop until he told her everything."
"That's my mom," he grumped, shaking his head.
"Don't be mad. Everyone explained what was going on to your mom. Including your dad."
"Uh … Wow! That's kind of surprising. Even Dad, huh?"
"Yeah, so why were you trying to do all of that? Why put yourself through all of that stress?"
"Linus and Dirty Harry," Chuck grinned.
"What are you talking about? What do Linus and Dirty Harry have to do with anything?"
"Sarah, I had to know what I was capable of doing," Chuck looked at her and squeezed her hand. "All of my life, people were testing me to see what I could do. I wanted to know."
"Why? Know what?"
"Let's see if I can explain it this way," he began. "During the first week I was at UCLA, when I was eight, I had a meeting with my academic advisor. On the wall outside his office was a poster of Linus from Charlie Brown and he was saying "There's no heavier burden than a great potential". That statement really hit me between the eyes."
"OK, but what about Dirty Harry?" Sarah was more than a little confused.
"Dirty Harry reference comes in from a movie my dad and I watched together, Magnum Force, from 1973. He liked it when he was younger and wanted to share it with me. You know how Harry always has a catchphrase in each of his movies, like 'make my day', right?"
"I guess so," Sarah answered, not really sure at all.
"OK, well in Magnum Force, the catch phrase he used was "A man has got to know his limitations".
"OK? Sorta."
"Don't you see, Sarah?"
"No, not really. If I'm being honest." She shook her head slightly.
"I needed to know what my limitations were. Did I even have limitations? I had that burden Linus was talking about. What if I didn't learn everything I could and do everything I could, would I be cheating myself? Would people say that I'd failed to live up to my potential? Sold myself short? I had to know, so I planned to take on that huge task."
"Just to see if you could do it or not?"
"Yeah."
"That's kind of crazy, Chuck. If you ask me." Sarah frowned at him. His lips twitched into a crooked grin.
"I understand. I really do. It's why Dad and I didn't want to tell Mom. I didn't want her lecturing me about it. But I needed to know, so I could relax and just do whatever I ended up doing. So I wouldn't keep worrying that I should be doing more."
"Dr. Bainbridge told us that you decided back in January that it was too much work for you, so you scaled things back to focus on your stuff here at Stanford. With baseball on top of your research, you couldn't do any more."
"That's right," Chuck smiled. "It turns out that I only have so many hours in the day. Just like everyone else. I was so relieved. It seems obvious in hindsight, but it didn't back then. Those other schools are going to be there if I want to continue my studies later. For the time being, I'm focusing on my work at Stanford. And baseball."
"And me, I hope," Sarah breathed, looking up at him through her lashes.
"Uh … yeah, that, too. Focus on you, I mean," Chuck stumbled, suddenly very nervous. She could see him trying to swallow, looking uncomfortable. Why was she making him nervous all of a sudden? Was she projecting her nervousness onto him?
They'd reached their spot. Their bench in Dohrmann Grove. It was late and no one else was around. This was it. This was the perfect spot. The place they shared their secrets. This was the moment. No more waiting. She was surprised to realize that she was no longer nervous. She stopped walking and turned to take him in her arms.
"I'm glad you plan to focus on me, baby," Sarah whispered, even though they were quite alone. She reached up to run her fingers along his jaw before cupping his cheek, feeling him shiver under her touch. She was shivering a little herself. God, how she loved him. It was time he knew that. Past time.
"W—Why is that, Sarah?" Chuck stammered. Sarah smiled gently then raised up on her tiptoes to softly kiss him. When they broke the kiss, she looked into his eyes and fearlessly leapt.
"Because I love you, Chuck Bartowski. I love you. And I have for a long time. I've just been too afraid to say it. You getting hurt scared me to death. I was worried that I'd lost my chance to share what was in my heart with you. I promised myself that, when you woke up, I wouldn't wait any longer to let you know how I feel about you. I love you," Sarah squeezed her arms around him, pulling him as close to her as she possibly could. Loosening her grip slightly, she drew back enough to raise up and kiss him again. When they drew apart for a second time, she was surprised to feel wetness on her cheeks. Chuck was crying.
"Why are you crying, baby?" she asked, more than a little concerned. Her emotions were threatening to spill over, too. Did he not feel the same way about her? Had she been wrong about what she thought she saw in his eyes? Felt when they touched? Held each other? When they kissed?
"I'm sorry, Sarah," Chuck sniffled. Now Sarah was really worried.
"Why are you sorry? Was it something I've done?" She was getting upset.
"No, Sarah. No," Chuck shook his head slightly. "It's nothing you've done. It's something I haven't done." He bounced his head from side to side. "Well, maybe it's more like something I didn't understand until recently."
"What is it?" Sarah searched his eyes, fearing what she would see. His emotions were swirling in his eyes like they had been while they'd watched the baseball game together in the hospital. Then the swirling stopped. His nervousness was gone. There was a new look in his eyes, one she'd never seen before. New and powerful and certain. Startled, Sarah looked away from Chuck's eyes and focused on his face and saw that he was smiling. He was smiling that special smile he always reserved just for her, his eyes softened as he looked at her in a new way. All of a sudden, she understood. And her heart took flight and soared.
"I love you, Sarah Walker," Chuck said quietly, like he was sharing a long held and precious secret. "I realized that I love you, too. More than anything in the world. Maybe it took me getting hit in the head, but I finally, finally understand what I've been feeling all these months. I love you. With everything in me. I love you so much," Chuck said in amazement, his voice growing stronger and more certain as he spoke, looking at her with eyes brimming with love and awe. "You are my world and I love you."
Then he leaned in and kissed her. He'd spoken the words she'd longed to hear since their first walk together and now he was kissing her. She responded happily with joy singing in her heart. Chuck's warm hands gently cupped her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks, while Sarah's own hands twined around his neck and into his short spiky hair, not yet starting to curl. She missed the feel of his curls, but knew they'd grow back in time. This kiss was as wonderful and sweet as any other, but it was also different. They both felt it. Deeper and more intimate than any they'd shared before. More open and knowing. Neither of them held anything back, both giving fully into their shared emotions. It was the first kiss of two people who now realized that they were in love.
Chuck and Sarah's world changed in that instant. It would never be the same again. It would be better.
A/N2: Chapter title comes from the song written by Harry Ruby (music) and Bert Kalmar (lyrics), published in 1930.
A/N3: Before baseball games begin, the head coaches of the opposing teams meet with the home plate umpire at home plate to exchange lineup cards and discuss any ground rules concerning unique elements of the baseball park they're playing in that day.
A/N4: WillieGarvin offers me his own phrases of three little words, like 'this needs work' and 'fix this part' and that means I have more writing to do, but when he says 'this is OK', I know I've got something people will enjoy reading. Thanks, WG, for all of your words of advice, three or otherwise.
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's followed or favorited this story, too. Your support means a lot to me.
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.