Author's Note: Thank you to those who reviewed, I appreciate all your comments and hope you enjoy the latest chapter. I've seen some comments that the end of the last chapter was a bit confusing and disjointed, and I say good observation. This was done intentionally, but I'm sure I could have written it better. Thank you for any and all criticism, and hopefully I've done a better job in this chapter conveying what I wanted to. I find writing Sarah to be very difficult, and I'm not sure I did her justice. Hopefully, you will all let me know.
For every action there is a consequence. Often they're benign and unforeseen, and often people are completely unprepared for them. Yet Chuck knew what he was doing when he pushed Sarah away from him, and he certainly knew the consequences of his action. Newton's Third Law of Motion, broken down to its basic elements, is a cause must have an effect. This is always true; it is fundamental.
Chuck pushed Sarah, so Sarah fell, and the man in black was no longer aiming at Sarah, but Chuck. The man in black fired, and Chuck was hit center mass, falling to his knees in shock. With Chuck no longer standing, Casey's field of fire was no longer blocked, and he shot the man in black twice. The man in black spasmed, finger tightening on the trigger of his pistol, firing the gun one last time, before he in turn fell to his knees. Chuck was shot for a second time, and tipped over to his side like a downed tree to Sarah's feet. The man in black settled on the ground, unmoving. Casey remained the only one involved unharmed.
"Chuck!" Right arm held close to her side, her breath still wheezing in and out noticeably, Sarah contorted her body around so her head was now where her feet had been. There was blind panic written clearly across her face and she pulled herself to lean over Chuck's prone body. His eyes were still open, but unfocused and he was breathing rapidly and shallow. His left hand clawed ineffectually at his white shirt, apparently trying to tear the garment open.
"C-can't breathe." He was gasping and his voice was nothing more than a strained whisper.
Sarah frantically ripped his shirt apart, eyes desperate to see what she hoped she'd see. The man in black's first shot had not penetrated Chuck's vest, leaving a noticeable indentation. Sarah was so relieved at the sight she had to choke back a sob. That was until she remembered the second shot. Again frantic, her hands flew over Chuck's chest, searching for where the second shot had hit, praying Chuck would be okay.
The man in black's second shot had penetrated Chuck's vest at one of its most vulnerable points, high up his right side, just above his right kidney. A small pool of blood was forming beneath him; Chuck's hand still clawed at his chest.
"Oh God." Acting on ingrained behavior, she ripped into pieces part of Chuck's already ruined shirt and scrunched the torn fabric into a haphazard wad of cloth, pressing it mercilessly against the bleeding hole in Chuck's side. Chuck let out a pathetic whimper and fluttered his eyes. Sarah shut her own eyes harshly as the white fabric stained red, and she turned her head away from Chuck to dry heave several times. The pain from her wounded side combined with the terrifying sight of Chuck bleeding below her made it impossible to stop her roiling stomach. This was not happening.
The sound of rapidly approaching feet was like a bucket of ice water doused over her body. Sarah shook her head violently, sucked in a deep breath, and calmed herself. What was wrong with her? Chuck needed her and she couldn't hold it together? Now was not the time to breakdown, she could do that later when Chuck was safe. The Intersect is hurt, protect the Intersect. She repeated this over and over through her head. If she said it enough, she might even believe it. She couldn't think of Chuck as Chuck right now, she had to look at him as the mission and the mission only. She had to be professional; that was who Chuck needed, the professional agent, not a terrified, emotional woman on the verge of a breakdown. She took another deep breath and attempted to compartmentalize her out of control emotions. She was calm. She was in control.
Raising her gun into the air, she spun around to face the approaching person, the whole time not removing her hand from Chuck's side. They would have to use the Jaws of Life to make her leave Chuck. Nobody was taking her from him. She was perfectly ready to kill anyone who even tried. As long as she touched him, felt him move and breathe, then he was still alive and she could still help him. It would mean she hadn't failed, hadn't completely failed him.
The person approaching was Casey. He pulled up short, hands raised, gun pointing into the air. "Whoa, whoa, it's me, Walker."
Sarah stared at Casey, eyes unfocused for the briefest of seconds, before she nodded and lowered her weapon to the ground. "We need a medivac immediately. Chuck's been shot." She began tearing up more of Chuck's shirt for a fresh bandage.
Casey squatted down near Chuck, giving the gasping man his own once over. Sarah watched Chuck's eyes loll over to look at the looming NSA agent. There was relief in his eyes and something akin to gratitude. "Son of a bitch. What the hell happened?"
The look in Chuck's eyes made her ashamed. Casey could protect him, Casey could save him; what use was she? Chuck wasn't looking at her like that, because she hadn't done her job, because she hadn't kept him safe. Chuck was wrong, he wasn't safest whenever he was with her, he was better off with someone who didn't let their emotions get in the way of their work. It was her fault Chuck was laying on the ground bleeding. Her fault. Disgusted with herself, she pushed herself to her feet. When her hand left Chuck's side, he let out a groan, and she spat out a string of curses, crouching back down and moving her hand back. What was wrong with her? She couldn't do anything right. She needed to clear her head, but she didn't think that would happen anytime soon.
Looking up at Casey, angry and lost, she snarled frustratingly, "I don't know." She locked eyes with her partner, pleading with him to do something, anything, that would make this situation better. "We need to get him to a hospital." But Casey wasn't even listening to her, already barking orders for an immediate medivac.
Sarah watched Casey move about the scene, checking the man in black, giving the crate a cursory glance, continuing to demand the medics move faster. He was mumbling to himself; Sarah caught the occasional blurb, and almost smiled. Her partner was complaining about Chuck's amazing ability to always get himself in trouble. There was a strain to Casey's voice and Sarah knew, while the stoic man would never admit it, he was worried about Chuck too.
A tug on her arm brought her mind back to the one thing she didn't want to think about. "S-Sarah, I – I – "
The strain was obvious, both in his eyes and his voice. Sarah moved her free hand to his chest and carefully, tentatively began to loosen the vest. She was hesitant to remove it altogether; she was too afraid it might actually be helping to stint the damage of the second shot. She was fairly certain the first shot to Chuck's chest had caused his initial breathing problems; the impact had definitely knocked the wind out of him and may have even cracked a rib or two. After some difficulty, she managed to loosen it enough to where it was just resting on him. He looked at her with gratitude, his hand coming up to brush against her arm lightly. She sighed at the contact.
"Sarah, I – I – think you – "
Sarah shook her head, cutting him off. "I don't want to hear it." Chuck frowned, his brown eyes full of hurt and confusion. Sarah wanted to hit herself. She really couldn't do anything right today. That wasn't what she had meant to say, at least not so curtly. She had no interest in hearing Chuck give some kind of deathbed confession. No interest whatsoever. Because Chuck was not going to die. He wasn't. He was going to live another 60 years at least, and anyone who argued differently, including Chuck himself, was going to have to deal with her. And she really wasn't in the mood right now for another Chuck/Sarah discussion about feelings. It was taking everything she had to hold herself together, if he started talking about how he felt about her, she'd just completely lose it.
Sarah softened and smiled at Chuck gently, her hand moving up to brush against his forehead and cheek. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to say that. I just mean, you're not going to die, Chuck. So there's no need for you to say anything, okay?" She waited for some kind of response, but Chuck seemed only capable of moving his lips into voiceless words. So she continued on, as if he had responded. "You're going to live a very long time, and get married, and have a family, and finally finish that five year plan."
He managed to give her a small smile and it was amazing how much that was enough to wipe so many of her negative thoughts away. He sucked in a deep breath, face contorting in pain as he did so, but he managed to finally complete a full sentence, "I was going to say, I think you should check the bomb, but thank you." And then he smiled a full Chuck Bartowski smile, and Sarah could have cried right then and there in utter relief.
"Oh." She didn't care that she was blushing or that she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from his face. "The bomb."
Chuck nodded. He sucked in another breath, and Sarah frowned; could the man never stop talking? Why was he doing this to himself? "Being blown up by a bomb is not nearly as cool as saying I survived being shot by a Chechen arms smuggler."
Sarah rolled her eyes, but smiled at him and felt her hand caress his face again. "Okay, I can take a hint." She grabbed Chuck's left hand and pulled it across his chest to where she was still holding pieces of his torn up shirt. "You press down hard and don't stop, okay? Just hold it there and don't you dare move. If I find out you've moved even an inch you're going to wish you'd gotten blown up by the bomb." She could not express in words just how absolutely serious she was, so she hoped her eyes were conveying the message adequately. By the somber and scared look on Chuck's face, she figured he got it. With a last second look at his face, she started to stand up.
Chuck's hand wrapped firmly around her forearm and she let out an exasperated sigh. He was unbelievable! He never listened to her. Giving him her best pissed off glare, she moved to pull his hand off her arm and put it back to where it belonged. Chuck spoke before she completed the motion. "I just want you to know, that when I think of myself old and married, with a family and a happy life, all I can see is you."
Sarah had no response for that, and fortunately, she could see in Chuck's eyes that he knew that and expected none. She swallowed harshly, blinked her eyes several times, and then nodded her head. She stood up, made sure he put his left hand on his bandage, and walked away. Sometimes, very rarely, when she actually believed that she might have a future to call her own, she saw the same thing Chuck did, and that was when she was at her happiest.
"What's got you grinning like an idiot?" Sarah looked up in surprise to see Casey scowling at her. "Oh God, you two didn't declare your undying love for each other, did you?"
Sarah glared at Casey and walked over the crate containing the bomb. "Actually, he wanted me to check on the bomb."
Casey looked at her very skeptically. "I'm shocked you could even tear yourself away long enough to do your job, especially considering how hard it was for you to do that before the kid got shot in the first place."
Sarah stopped and forced herself to take a calming breath. She knew Casey was only lashing out at her, whether because he was genuinely concerned for Chuck or because he was upset the mission had taken such a negative turn, but there was only so much she was willing to put up at the moment. And Casey questioning her devotion to her job, to Chuck, was unacceptable at the moment. It was bad enough she already blamed herself, she didn't need Casey piling on, even if he was right. "Shut up, Casey."
"Looks like I hit a nerve."
Sarah formed her hands into fists and took a step toward Casey. At this point in time, she would have no compunction against just beating the shit out of her partner. At least she knew he could take it. "Shut up, Casey." Her voice was deadly serious.
Casey stared at her for a very long moment and she could see a whirlwind of emotions course through his eyes. His bluster and anger deflated and he muttered under his breath, "Sorry."
She barely heard him, but it was enough, and all the tension evaporated from her body. "Come on, we need to check on the bomb."
The sound of sirens approached rapidly, and Sarah looked over her shoulder to make sure Chuck was still okay. His hand was where it was supposed to be and he was watching her and Casey with a half-lidded, exhausted look on his face. She smiled briefly at him, relieved that he was still awake, but worried at the sudden lifelessness she saw. It was clear he was finding it increasingly difficult to stay alert and cogent. The look gave her a new spurt of energy and she turned to the crate, her knife flashing in her hand as she began working on the crate lid. They needed to get this dealt with so she could go back to looking after Chuck. She knew how to keep his attention. "How do you want to handle this?"
"I think we should wait for the bomb squad."
"For all we know, one of these guys," Sarah nodded her head in the direction of the dead man in black, "could have had some kind of remote detonator. It could go off any second."
"You really want to risk messing with the bomb with the kid so near by?" Casey arched an eye brow and looked pointedly at her.
That was a total low blow and Casey knew it. Sarah glared mercilessly at Casey and moved her hands to her hips. How the hell was she supposed to argue with that? "We need to make sure." Even she thought she sounded pathetic.
"And I say we wait. Bartowski ain't exactly in the best shape to be tinkering with bombs in case something goes wrong."
Just then, an ambulance pulled up, lights flashing. It screeched to a halt and people were already jumping out of the back. Sarah took one look at them and felt any desire to continue arguing leave her body. "Fine, you deal with it. I'm going to help Chuck."
"Of course you are." Sarah was no longer paying attention to Casey, or anything else for that matter. All she cared about at that moment was getting Chuck on board the ambulance and safely to a hospital.
She pulled up short when she saw Chuck. His eyes were closed; the paramedics were hovering all around him, arms and hands flitting around his body like angry bees, as they shouted words she didn't quite understand. They sounded tense and urgent, and that was enough to make everything around her blur into the background. She could see nothing but Chuck's body, stained like a rose, still and unmoving.
Note: One more chapter to go!