Scene XXII – Casa Bartowski
Sarah found herself slowing as she walked through the courtyard towards Ellie's apartment. She had only managed about fifteen minutes of sleep, and that little bit probably had done more harm than good. It certainly had done little to drain the tension of the earlier scrap with Chuck. Now, she had to see him in her exhausted state.
It had been all Sarah could do to drag herself out of bed to get ready for the party. More than anything, Sarah just wanted to stay safely burrowed in her warm comforter and let sleep overtake her again. But with Chuck having called off their previous date, she really had no choice. The last thing they needed to do after all the repair work they did on their cover over the holidays was to throw it away because she was tired.
Besides, Sarah had conducted plenty of missions on little sleep. Of course, she hadn't lashed out at a partner hours before those missions, either.
Stopping by the fountain, her mind wandered for a minute, remembering some of the post-mission conversations she had with Chuck in this area. She smiled, remembering Chuck's comment about being "forced" to kiss her good night, and how often they would let go of each other's hand as they left the apartment, occasionally with a touch that lingered just long enough to set her heart racing.
It took her a moment to recognize that her thoughts were drifting. She cursed under her breath. Damn fatigue was affecting her focus.
Sarah took a couple deep breaths of the cool evening air to try to force herself to wake up. She cobbled together a game plan: she would make her appearance, spend as much time talking with people other than Chuck as she could, and make an early exit. She could make that work; hopefully Chuck could, too.
A couple more deep breaths, and she decided she was ready. She rang the doorbell.
Please don't be Chuck. Please don't be Chuck. Please don't be Chuck.
Chuck answered the door, the smell of cheesy enchiladas and the sound of cheesy Mexican music wafting out of the apartment. All of that barely registered.
Sarah thought she had prepared herself for the sight of him, but she was wrong. Consciously or not, Chuck had chosen to wear his light green striped button-down with the brown undershirt, the same outfit he wore on their first "date" months ago. Suddenly, she was swept back to that night.
They had gone out for Tex-mex that night as well, and had one of the few truly "normal" conversations Sarah engaged in during her time at the CIA. Her mission that night was to make Chuck believe that she was just a normal woman, enough to gain his trust and possibly get him to share anything he knew about the Bryce Larkin email. The funny thing was that Chuck really did make her feel like a normal woman, and she found she liked that feeling more than she ever thought she could.
She couldn't believe he had brought the Nerd Herd car to pick her up. What kind of woman would possibly be impressed by that? A normal date would have been over before it started.
Damn it. Her mind was wandering again. As she regained her focus, she noticed he was staring back at her from the open doorway, uncertain what to say. That made two of them.
Sensing the awkwardness wasn't going to evaporate, Chuck slipped outside, shutting the door behind him. His eyes looked sad, which only made her feel worse. Before she could speak, Chuck said, "Listen … about earlier. It only makes sense that I would deal with the computers as part of the mission. That doesn't bother me." After he brief pause, he added, "But I've spent the past couple of hours trying to get past what you said at the end. And I can't."
His face was so serious. So hurt.
"I have to know," he said. "Did you mean what you said?"
It took every last bit of her experience as an agent to keep from breaking down on the spot. It took just as much to resist the urge to use any of that experience to maneuver the conversation in her favor. That's what an agent should do, especially with an asset.
Sarah instinctively knew that she had a couple of options to manipulate Chuck, using either his feelings for her or his general kindness towards others to turn the tables. The agent inside her screamed for her to pick an option and go with it, but she resisted.
No, she was going to make things right on Chuck's terms. She owed him that.
She answered his question while shaking her head, "No, Chuck, I didn't mean it how it came out. Not at all."
"Then how did you mean it?"
"Chuck, there are any number of times when any agent needs to exercise good judgment about whether or not to become involved in a situation. They need to weigh the risk versus the reward. The head often has to overrule the heart."
"What you did the other night was very brave, but very foolish. You risked the Intersect to try to capture a computer programmer. That wasn't a good risk to take."
Chuck was about to interrupt her, but Sarah cut him off. "Please, Chuck, let me finish." He acquiesced.
She didn't have much left, and she had to say what needed to be said quickly, or it wouldn't get said at all. Taking a deep breath to regroup, Sarah stood up straight, shoulders back, and looked Chuck dead in the eyes. "While I stand behind what I said, the way I said it was entirely unprofessional. My remark was the product of long hours and little sleep, and shouldn't be viewed as an accurate reflection of my opinion of your overall performance." Inside, she cringed a bit: she hadn't meant for the apology to turn out so stiff, but she had defaulted to her professional mode.
After a brief pause, she added, "I'm sorry, Chuck." She knew it sounded forced. Why was it so difficult for her to say those words?
Chuck's face was still a little sad, but now it also held a slightly amused smile. "Wow. A formal apology, Agent Walker?"
At his smile and his comment, she felt a little hope. In an emotional voice, she replied, "It's the only kind I really know how to give."
Chuck didn't say anything for an agonizingly long time. Finally, he said, "Well, thank you. Formal or not, that means a lot to me."
Relief began to flow through her. There were issues that needed resolving; just not tonight. "Chuck, there are still a few things that we need to sort through. I know I'm probably asking a lot, but can they wait until tomorrow?" Please, Chuck, let it go until tomorrow. I just don't have it in me right now.
Chuck's face was kind, and a little concerned. He looked into her eyes carefully, as if trying to diagnose something. "Sure."
Sarah mostly fought back the urge to let out a giddy little laugh. She gathered herself before looking back at Chuck. "Thank you."
"You look really tired. Are you sure you want to come in? I can make up an excuse for you."
Sarah forced a smile. "Yes, Chuck. We need this for our cover."
"If you say so; you're the one giving the orders around here."
The way he said it made it clear he was teasing her a little about their fight; she let out a small laugh. It felt good.
Chuck asked, "Are you ready to go in?"
The words struck fear into her. "Chuck, wait." He had started moving towards the door, but slowed at her command. "I need a minute. For some reason, I'm a little scared to go in there right now."
"Scared? Really?"
"Scared isn't the right word." Actually, it was closer than she cared to admit. These were such good people. How could she explain that she sometimes felt like a fraud by sharing in their lives?
In her current state, she couldn't find the right words. She tried to play it off. "Maybe I'm just tired."
Chuck stepped over to her. He looked at her appraisingly for a moment before responding, "Tell you what: you spend your days protecting me in your world, so tonight I'll protect you in mine. OK?"
The reassuring look Chuck offered made her smile. She reached out and took his hand, for support as much as for their cover, and simply replied, "OK."
She took a deep breath as Chuck opened the door. He let go of her hand as he reached back to her, placing the hand in her lower back to guide her into the apartment. He said, "Besides, I think you'll find that you have little reason to be scared here." She forced a bigger smile onto her face as she walked into the apartment, the smells and sounds washing over her.
"Sarah!" Ellie, Devon, Morgan, Anna and others that she knew from the holiday parties cried out their greetings in turn, genuinely happy to see her. Her smile suddenly took care of itself. Ellie, standing in the kitchen, quickly wiped her hands on a green-striped towel and rushed over to give her a strong embrace, whispering how glad she was to see her. Sarah returned the hug and the sentiment.
Chuck had barely finished guiding her to a seat at the counter when Devon placed a bright red frozen margarita in front of her, folding umbrella decorating a traditional wide-mouthed glass with a dark blue rim. He wore a ridiculously huge black sombrero with cheap beadwork in a riot of colors, the long string designed to hold the hat on dangling down to his chest. Despite herself, Sarah burst into laughter at the sombrero, as well as the huge grin under the sombrero. Far from taking offense, Devon accepted it in stride, managing to mangle several Spanish words into his response. Sarah laughed even harder.
Feeling relaxed for the first time in days, Sarah sipped her drink as she spoke with people about nothing important. She hadn't gotten to talk to many people on New Year's Eve, so she was enjoying spending time to catch up with everyone. Turned around on her stool as she conversed, she didn't even notice as Devon topped off everyone's drinks.
Ellie pulled enchiladas, tortillas and taco meat out of the oven. With everyone pitching in, the counter was transformed into an informal buffet, complete with homemade guacamole, salsa and tortilla chips. People took turns filling up their plates and heading over to the table, which Ellie had decorated with bright placemats and brightly colored folding paper fans as favors.
As tired as she was, Sarah wasn't particularly hungry; she put a polite amount of food on her plate and headed to the table to take a seat next to Chuck. Morgan was animatedly describing reviews he had read for "Cloverfield", with Anna and Chuck occasionally pitching in their two cents. Anna was apparently concerned about Morgan getting seasick for some reason.
Sarah knew nothing about the movie, or any others that were out there, for that matter. She was content to sit their silently and watch the three of them talk about what was in the theaters, occasionally chipping in a question or a comment, or joining in the laughter. And there was a lot of laughter.
Her conversations wound through a variety of topics. She caught up on how things were going at the hospital, and Devon and Ellie held an informal debate about whether to take a ski vacation or a beach vacation later in the year. Chuck talked a little about Jeff and Lester and their attempt at "revenge"; she hadn't gotten the opportunity to hear the whole story from the beginning.
She did notice Morgan seemed to flinch when Jeff and Lester's names came up, and caught him shooting a guilty look at Anna. She made a mental note to mention it to Chuck; he would want to know about that.
As everyone finished their dinners, a warm feeling engulfed her and a seemingly permanent smile etched itself on her face. She couldn't remember feeling so comfortable in a long time. She found herself staring off into space with greater frequency, occasionally taking another drink or nodding at a comment in the conversation around her.
Devon came over just as Sarah drained the last of her margarita from her glass. He leaned over her chair, providing another refill without asking, and she burst out laughing again. Reaching up, she stole the sombrero and placed it on her own head, much to the delight of Ellie and some of the others. Devon topped off her glass as she modeled the hat for the others at the table.
She particularly enjoyed Chuck's disbelieving smile as it dissolved into an affectionate one, and locked eyes with him for a moment. Then Chuck's smile became mischievous. "You know, Sarah, you picked a bad time to grab the sombrero."
Uh oh. Sarah didn't like the look on Chuck's face. Slowly, she asked, "Why's that?"
"Well, it's a well-known Casa Bartowksi tradition that the person wearing the sombrero at the end of the meal is the first to do a celebratory dance. Now, normally Devon takes that particular bullet before passing the hat to somebody else…"
Sarah still didn't get it. "So, what, I'm supposed to get up and dance to…" She suddenly realized she had no idea what CD was playing; the cheesy Mexican music had vanished half an hour ago. "…whatever this is?" she finished lamely.
Chuck's smile grew downright evil. "Nope, we hit random on the CD player, and you dance to whatever song comes on."
Sarah looked around the table. "He's kidding, right?" Morgan shook his head with a serious expression. Anna shrugged; she clearly had no idea. Feeling a bit desperate, she looked over at Ellie, possibly the one person in the room Sarah could count on being honest. One look at Ellie's sympathetic face told her Chuck wasn't making this up.
Sarah stiffened her resolve. Picking up her glass, she took a long drink. As she set the glass down, she looked several people in the eye. With a small grin, she quietly said, "OK. Let's do this."
The table let out an approving roar; Sarah felt her heart race. It was silly for her to get excited by this, wasn't it?
Chuck gave her a hand up, and escorted her across the room with exaggerated aplomb. She held onto his hand a bit tightly, mainly because her balance failed her a bit as she stood up. But she didn't kid herself: she was in no hurry to let go, either.
He guided her to the open area over by the front door, which vaguely resembled a stage. The other partiers, drinks in hand, filed over in the sitting area to watch.
Reluctantly, Sarah let go of his hand, feeling a bit self-conscious as Chuck left her alone to fiddle with the stereo controls. Overly dramatically, Chuck stopped the music and declared, "Let the completely random music selection begin!" The crowd let out a mock cheer. In the back of her mind, something about the way he said that didn't sound right, but she was having trouble thinking straight.
Chuck knelt down, shielding the stereo controls from her. Suddenly, the stereo burst into life, with…
Chuck shouted, "Oh, no, it's the 'Mexican Hat Dance'!" Sure enough, the sound of Mexican-style horn-playing filled the room. Sarah looked around the room in shock. Did they really expect her to dance to this?
Morgan started chanting, "Hat. Dance. Hat. Dance," punctuating each word with a clap of the hands. Chuck immediately joined in, quickly followed by Devon. Ellie just covered her eyes with a hand, and then shot Sarah another sympathetic look.
Somehow, the smile helped. Sarah steeled herself, raising the hat high above her head with both hands before dropping it onto the floor, eliciting a cheer from the spectators. Her smile and her confidence grew.
Still not quite sure what to do, she started dancing in a circle around the hat. She felt like she was doing a bad imitation of 'Riverdance' given the way she tapped her feet and didn't really move her arms. However, she felt a bit unsteady as she moved, and was afraid doing anything with her arms would make her lose her balance.
Around and around the hat she went, the room a blur, the crowd clapping to the music. She risked lifting her hands above her head to snap her fingers a time or two.
Luckily, the 'Mexican Hat Dance' was a short song. Within a couple of minutes, the song came to an end. On the last note, she posed, one leg in front of the other, arms straightened into a "V" overhead with hands facing the ceiling.
The crowd went wild.
Sarah, breathing a little hard, exulted at the applause. She looked over at Chuck, who was walking towards her, applauding and shaking his head in an I-can't-believe-what-I-just-saw kind of way. She winked at him, and pivoted slightly to take a deep bow for her adoring fans.
Unfortunately, that turned out to be a bad idea. The lack of sleep, Awesome's margaritas and the light dinner finally caught up to her, and she stumbled as she rose up from the bow. Luckily, Chuck was there to catch her. She instinctively threw her arms around his neck as she felt herself falling.
"Whoa!" she heard Chuck exclaim as he caught her, his arms supporting her by her back. The room was a little fuzzy and more than a little unsteady. Chuck helped her back to her feet. He gave a small laugh as he inspected her. "Looks like Awesome's margaritas have claimed another victim."
Sarah wanted to try to play it off, but she seemed to have a little trouble speaking. Chuck took one of her arms across his shoulders and whispered, "Shhh…" She felt his warm breath on her ear; part of her calmed down, part of her didn't. She did choose to stay quiet.
Devon came over and said, "Well, that last batch was particularly…" Sarah so badly wanted to beat Devon to the 'awesome', but didn't trust herself to speak. She did let out a small laugh.
Devon, defying expectations, continued his sentence with, "…potent. Sorry about that, Sarah."
Chuck spoke for her. "No worries, man. She's fine, but I'm going to help get her settled. Good night, guys." He started guiding her back towards his room.
The remaining crowd echoed their goodbyes in friendly, if slightly concerned, tones. In the back of her mind, Sarah wondered what they were thinking. But mostly she was caught up with the idea of being alone with Chuck.