A/N1 Here we go again.

Thanks to all who are reading and especially all who have reviewed the story or sent me a PM.

Don't own Chuck.


ACT V

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Datum Clarificandum


Carina had stolen upstairs, outside. She'd found a deserted side of the VA hospital and she was making a call. Her train of thought and of feeling, when she'd been downstairs with the Team, had made her think of Albert. He had been popping into her thoughts ever since her near-death encounter at the hands of her best friend. There's a sentence you don't hear often, thank God. A brief chat with Beckman had given Carina a good excuse.

"Hello?" It was Albert's, Al's, voice, deep and slightly raspy.

"Hey, Al! It's Carina."

"Carina! Wonderful to hear from you." She heard Al try to check his enthusiasm as he went on. "I...um...always...hope...like to hear from you."

Carina smirked to herself, but at herself, not at Al. She had been sleeping with Al off and on for a couple of years now. He was her only...regular. Of course, that wasn't saying much. Their visits weren't that regular. But she had seen him again. And again.

Al worked for The Washington Post. He was one of the few serious journalists left on the paper, in the town. A truth guy. A digger. Concerned about justice, not political parties or payouts. And, truth be told, Carina admired him. A lot. He challenged her, vertically and horizontally. In every direction.

He'd paid a price for his concern for truth. He walked with a limp, the result of a stray bullet taken while on caught in a sudden firefight in the Middle East years before. That bullet had domesticated him, so to speak; he changed from chasing stories around the globe to chasing them around DC, a wilder and scarier place, really, than even the Middle East. Or so Al sometimes joked.

She knew he had deep feelings for her, and that he had from the first time they had been together. She was sure she was the only woman in his life, though he hadn't said so and she surely had not asked (even if she couldn't keep from wondering).

She met him in line at a coffee shop. They'd talked. Talked some more. And ended up in her apartment.

In the past, for any man to look at her when she left the bed as Al looked at her would have meant that he never saw her again. But he did. The next night they were at her place again. He wanted to see her and she had been unable to refuse. That was the start of whatever...this thing...between them was.

Of course, I haven't been 'faithful' to him or anything.

No, she hadn't, but she also hadn't had another man to her apartment after Al. He'd been the last man in the bed she called her own.

She was starting to think that meant something, something important.

"Al, I wish I were calling to tell you I am in town, but I am not. I'm on the West Coast, and I am calling to ask for a favor."

"Name it."

He knew she worked undercover for the DEA, she'd told him, but when she'd not elaborated, he'd respected her boundaries and not asked to know more. He did know her work was dangerous. He'd seen her gun in her purse.

"I need you to check on Madeline Upshaw for me. Go to her apartment and see if she is there. Do you know who she is? I have her address."

"Upshaw. Upshaw? Oh, right. I haven't met her, but I do know who she is. Former US intelligence agent, right? Runs her own security firm, although the word on the street is that it isn't really a rent-a-cop sort of firm, more like rent-a-spook...Is that her?"

Carina smiled. Al was razor sharp; he held all of DC in his head. He knew the players and the teams, and he knew the agendas. "Yeah, that's her. Just see if you can find her. Confirm where she is. I don't think there's going to be anything risky in doing this, but be careful, ok?"

"I will. I'll call you back once I find her."

"Thanks, Al." Carina was surprised by her own voice, her intimate tone. Intimate?

Evidently, Al was surprised too. There was a pause and she heard him start to say something then stop. He was trying to gauge what that tone meant, whether to return it. He ended up somewhere between his earlier tone and her intimate one. "Ah...Carina, you be careful, too. Maybe I shouldn't say this, but I worry about you."

Carina's mind ran back to Chuck's fingers, tapping together in the DARPA elevator, the only exterior sign of his deep worry about Sarah. Maybe Carina had been wrong on the elevator. Maybe, if something happened to her, someone would be out there, tapping his fingers. Worrying about her. Maybe someone already was. She felt her whole body flush warm at the thought.

"Thanks for that, Al. Goodbye." She ended the call and wished there was a button to end the swell of emotions in her chest. Is this what it feels like, how it starts? She didn't explain that 'it' to herself. She didn't want to. That 'it' scared her to death, even as it fascinated her too.

ooOoo

Beckman was perplexed, scared. Where were Chuck and Sarah? Even given the difficulties they faced, they should have arrived hours ago. The only thing placating Beckman was that there was no indication that they had been captured by law enforcement or any intelligence agencies. Beckman had called in lots of favors; someone would have told her of any capture.

It was strange, though. A few hours ago, the folks directing the hunt for Rebecca Franco, for Sarah, had concentrated efforts in San Diego. Beckman wondered how that had happened. It had to be a false lead, a false trail. Chuck and Sarah were not in San Diego. Still, strange or no, Beckman was happy about it. It lessened some of the pressure.

Still, she needed to know where they were. She needed to get Sarah to Ellie as soon as possible. Huntaker and Madeline were up to something, but Beckman still had no clue and Morgan had not been able to find anything that shed light on their plan.

And she hadn't heard from Madeline. She wasn't sure she would. How, exactly, Madeline fit into the jigsaw was not at all clear to Beckman. She seemed to belong to both sides.

Carina came walking in, her phone in her hand. Beckman stepped to her.

"Where were you, Carina."

"Sorry, I was careful. I just needed some fresh air."

"And to make a phone call," Beckman added, gesturing at Carina's hand. Carina explained who she had called and why. Beckman nodded in agreement with what Carina had done. They needed to get a fix on Madeline and soon.

Beckman studied Carina for a moment. "I know Al. Are you two…"

Carina compressed her lips and shrugged hesitantly, quickly, a maybe shrug.

Beckman went on. "I know him. He's interviewed me a couple of times and we have shared a table at a function. He's impressive…" She stopped.

"And you don't see him with me?" Carina was immediately defensive.

"No, Carina, I didn't say that. I wasn't thinking it either. I was just re-evaluating you both. It makes sense, actually." She nodded to herself. Then, she smiled for a second, reached up and patted her neat bun. "I do know he likes redheads." She held a straight face for a second and then chuckled. Carina joined her.

"Any word from the Bartowskis?" Carina had no more than asked than Beckman's phone rang. Everyone looked up, toward her, as she answered.

ooOoo

It was Roan. He was on his way to her.

He'd gotten tired of waiting. He wanted specific directions. She gave them to him and allowed her voice to warm as she did. Madeline's lies were no longer tormenting her, making her withhold herself just a bit when she talked to him, creating a coolness she couldn't make go away and that she knew Roan noticed but didn't acknowledge. He knew she would tell him when she felt she needed to, and not before.

She finished talking to him. Her phone rang again, immediately. It was Chuck on the line. He and Sarah were not far away, but they had no car. Casey checked the address Chuck gave her. They were on Roan's way.

"Chuck, Roan Montgomery is coming into town. He should be where you are in twenty minutes. Can you two wait, somewhere out of sight?"

"Um, yeah, General, yeah. We're in the lobby of a building being remodeled.

"But we have news. The assassin, Archeus, is in town. For us, evidently. She gassed us, was going to kill us, but we got away…She did too, unfortunately, and we have no idea where she went. Is Ellie still there with you? Devon? Where's Clara?"

Beckman was trying to process that before she answered. Archeus? Dear God, what was happening? What was Huntaker up to? She felt like Huntaker had just pushed his entire pile of chips into the center of the table and was glaring at her over his cards.

"General? Where's Clara?"

"Um...She's with a friend of Ellie's. She's good. Ellie just checked. Everyone here is ok, Chuck. Are you two ok?"

"I've got some...cuts and Sarah's still coming around from the gas, but, ah, we're ok."

"Stay hidden. Roan's driving a dark green Lexus. He'll stop in front of the building.

ooOoo

Sarah looked up.

Chuck was peeking out of the front window of the lobby. It was papered over, as was often true of construction projects, so he had torn a small hole in the heavy brown paper to use to watch for Roan. He turned back to her.

"How are you, Sarah? Is the feeling returning?"

She nodded once and put out her hand. He took it. She could feel that his body was still trembling: after-effects of the combat, the adrenaline.

Sare was sitting on a wooden crate that he had slid into place for her. Her legs were still shaky. Her heart too. Chuck had saved her. She had no distinct memory, but she was sure, absolutely sure, it was not remotely the first time.

But then: Paris. A distinct image of the Eiffel Tower, looking up at it… and Chuck swinging down but from the top of the Buy More. Chuck fighting with...Shaw. Where, Paris or the Buy More? Both? Where? She felt numb and frozen: all at once, or on two separate occasions?

Nothing else came.

The confrontation with Archeus had activated Sarah's memories, agitated them, anyway. It clarified Sarah to herself. She had a past she deeply regretted. But, as she was now realizing, genuinely to regret that past did not...require her to forfeit her future.

Still, maybe that was a sacrifice she needed to make, a balancing of the scales? Maybe she would have to leave Chuck, and leave behind her life with Chuck, leave behind herself as she was with Chuck, leave all that behind.

She noticed that Chuck was staring at her, hard, but not unkindly. He seemed lost in thought, unaware of his stare. She was not sure what he was thinking, but she realized she still hadn't answered his question.

"Yes, Chuck. I think I will be good to go when Roan gets here." She watched him recoil slightly from her phrasing. She took her hand from his and stood. Her legs held her.

She cupped her hand around his neck, rubbing the back of it gently with her finger. "Let's concentrate on now, Chuck. Don't worry about the future. And know this, because I do, I know it more certainly than I know anything else…" She paused and then found that the words were on her lips before she needed to will them there. "I love you, Chuck. I do. I do. I love you. Becoming Sarah Bartowski, even if I only remember parts of it, has been...and it still is, the great adventure of my life. It's the adventure I hoped for as a little girl."

Chuck brightened as she spoke but then dimmed at the barely audible note of sadness that had crept into her tone as she finished. But before he could speak, he saw Roan's car. He gestured to it and Sarah nodded. She clung to his arm as they walked quickly out of the lobby and to the car. Roan saw them and smiled.

They climbed into the back seat. Roan looked at them in the rearview mirror. "Well, if it isn't my favorite couple…" he reined in his jauntiness as he looked at them more carefully. Sarah knew they looked awful, exhausted, injured, upset. He went on, subdued: "Are you two ok?"

Sarah peeked at Chuck, hoping he would answer. He did. "Yeah, yeah, Roan, we're ok. Good to see you. And thanks." Roan nodded, acknowledging the greeting and thanks, but seemed unconvinced that they were ok.

"It's been a while. I hear that you've...ah...suffered some memory issues, Sarah."

"Yes, I have. Some things are coming back."

"Like your feelings for Chuck here?" He phrased it as a question but she was sure he knew the answer.

She felt Chuck tense beside her, waiting for her answer.

She felt awkward, talking about her feelings with anyone other than Chuck. It was hard enough with him.

"Yes...my...feelings for Chuck never really had to come back. They were there more or less from when I woke up like this. I just didn't have the...proper object for them...until he found me."

Roan didn't look into the rearview, but she saw him nodding. "I'm not surprised."

"Why is that, Roan?" Her self-consciousness abated. She was curious what he was thinking; all this mattered so much right now, her heart was so...tender.

"You know I love to read, the classics especially, right?" They both shook their heads. Roan laughed lightly. "A man cannot live by drinks alone." Then he added, sotto voce, "Not even if he really tries." His voice came back up. "But I guess we really haven't talked about my reading habit, although I do recall quoting Shakespeare to you once some years ago, Chuck."

"'The lady doth protest too much, methinks'. Hamlet. I remember, Roan."

"It's all a play within a play, Chuck, human life…" The city, beneath the barely lightening sky, stretched to face the day, but neither Sarah nor Chuck was paying any attention. They were listening to Roan.

"Well, Sarah, you asked why I am not surprised. Here's why. The only person you can rely on to miss the mark is the marksman.

"Plato argued that point convincingly long ago. He meant that only the person who can reliably hit the mark can reliably miss it, because only such a person is a good shot. The non-marksman may intend to miss the mark but hit it because he is a poor shot.

"Here's what I am driving at, obliquely, I admit: I teach people to pretend to be in love. To fake it. But I couldn't do that reliably if I didn't know what it really is, what it really looks like. If I couldn't recognize the genuine article."

He drove on for a moment before continuing, lost in his thoughts but not among the streets.

"I may not manage it...love...well in my own life, but I know it when I see it."

He paused and gathered himself. "I saw as clearly as I have ever seen it when I first saw the two of you together. That time you kissed at Casey's...It was clear that there was no going back for either of you. That didn't mean everything would be immediately rosy, and I know it hasn't, but you two…"

He looked at them searchingly in the rearview mirror for a moment.

"Well, as another old book says, one it may surprise you that I have read, 'love is patient...kind...it keeps no record of wrongs…'"

Roan's tone made it clear he was not just talking to them but also to himself.

Sarah looked at Chuck and smiled wetly. He leaned in and kissed her. She put her head on his shoulder, on her love's shoulder, and, completely exhausted but feeling safe, she closed her eyes as Roan talked on. Roan was given to speechifying, she remembered, as sleep claimed her.

ooOoo

Archeus looked around the bathroom in the filthy hostel. No one else was awake.

She peeled off her black shirt, the pain making her wheeze, wince. She had a large, darkening bruise across her ribs. She didn't think her ribs were broken, at least she hoped not. But functionally, it didn't matter. The pain was intense. She would need painkillers; luckily, she had some. She needed sleep, but she could not afford much.

Her primary timetable had taken over. She had no choice but to live with the Bartowski's being alive, at least for now. Chuck had the Intersect, clearly. Archeus would have killed him easily, otherwise. She was probably lucky he had not tried to kill her; he probably could have done so.

But she was not going to share anything with Huntaker. Let him think they were dead. She did not want him to pull the plug on the primary mission.

She had to get to DC. The pain would have to be borne. In less than 48 hours, she would do what Huntaker really brought her to the US to do.

She worked to get the rest of her clothes off and she took a brief shower. She put on an old flannel shirt and jeans, pulled her wet hair into a ponytail. The clothes were camouflage; they transformed her into one of the many guests of the hostel.

She took some painkillers and found an empty cot. As she waited for the pain to recede enough to sleep, she thought of Sarah, Sarah Bartowski.

What would it be like to be in love and to be loved in return?

Archeus turned the thought this way and that in her mind before she realized what she was doing. Twisting in the cot deliberately, she made her ribs spike pain. She had no time for alien thoughts, weakness.

The pain cleared her mind of almost everything, leaving only two images.

Washington, DC. The President.


A/N2 Of course, you knew that was coming. Tune in next time for Chapter 18, "Creation and Re-Creation".

Oh, a shout-out to David Carner and to Grace! Met them in person last week. Wonderful father and daughter.