AN: I decided to chop the final chapter so that I could give you guys something today because I realized the Easter fesivities would keep me busy.
Chapter 6
"Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to honor the memory of a friend, brother, and a wonderful human being."
I cringe at the omission of the term significant other, but they couldn't possibly know my inner workings. Not even he knew the truth. I'll never get the chance to tell him how I feel. I wasn't good enough, fast enough, strong enough.
"According to his sister, Charles Irving Bartowski came into the world on a day very similar to this one. It is fitting that we say goodbye at a time when mother nature has created such beauty."
At the mention of Ellie, I glance toward the row of seats to my right. Devin has his arms around her and I can only imagine the sadness emanating from her sunglass covered eyes. If she feels even half of what I do, her heart is breaking. The shattered woman wouldn't consider herself lucky, but I do. As Chuck's older sister, she got to spend his entire life with him. Our time together fell just short of a year. That's no where near long enough of a period to unlock the Nerd Herd leader's secrets.
Morgan and Anna are sitting next to them, along with some of his other co-workers and people I do not recognize. It hurts to think that they may be parts of his extended family that I'll never get to meet. I will never have the pleasure of being introduced as Chuck's girlfriend and know that it's reality, instead of the fake, convoluted world in which I usually exist.
I'm surprised by how much Morgan's ashen face rattles me. He wasn't my favorite person, but he was a stalwart cheerleader for Chuck, getting him through the toughest times. You can't ask for much more than that from a friend. Of course, I haven't had a true friend since grade school. The man who's life we are here to celebrate wanted to be that friend. He wanted to be my everything. I only wish that I had let him take on that burden.
"We have a letter that was discovered with the deceased's will and other belongings. I would like to read it now for all of you. I'm told that is what he wished."
The news that Chuck wrote a last will and testament shocks me, despite his propensity to overanalyze and plan. Every agent prepares their final papers when they sign with the CIA and we update them accordingly, but Chuck should never have had to worry about things like death.
"To my friends and family,
There's not much I can say except thank you. I could not have wished for a better support system. We've been through the ups and down of life together and always came out on top. You may not understand the events that led to my death, but I want you to know that I'm fine with everything. I've managed to find a lot of closure and peace these last few months.
I'd like to thank my stable of hoes for keeping me on my toes and occasionally doing your work. I don't imagine that your new leader will be as understanding, so get to work.
Big Mike, you've been a great boss and a genuine friend. Despite your perpetual anger, I know you genuinely care for us. Take it easy on the BuyMore crew. They try their best.
Captain Awesome, Devin, you've been like a brother to me. No matter how chiseled your features or brilliant your career, you remained a genuinely good guy. I can't think of a better match for my sister. Take care of her.
Morgan, you are my brother. I don't care what the DNA tests claimed. I couldn't have survived without you and I'm sorry for my funks. Please take good care of my collection and don't let Anna go. She's good for you.
Oh god, Ellie. I'm so sorry. We were suppose to grow old together and give our kids the family that we never had. You put up with me all these years and I love you so much. I love you. Please don't be sad. Smile on your wedding day. Look out for Morgan, if you can."
It has taken all of my agency training to remain outwardly calm, but it's all tumbling down. I can't believe that he's gone. For someone who will be a numerically small part of my life, Chuck has left an indelible mark. Everyone is singing as they begin to lower that casket. My knees feel weak.
"I'd like to invite Sarah Walker to finish lowering the casket. After all, It is her fault that Mr. Bartowski is dead."
I can't stop the shock that appears on my face. The entire congregation is now staring at me, looks of accusation adorning their features.
"Wha…I didn't," is all that I can manage to say.
"You killed him Walker. Walker….Walker wake up. Walker."
I'm jolted to consciousness by the gruff voice of John Casey. Everything is murky, like I'm floating in water. My vision is blurred and my limbs feel like Jell-O on the Fourth of July. As my eyes adjust to the light, Casey's face looms above me, in scarily perfect clarity.
"Not pretty," I slur, channeling Chuck. The thought of him pierces my heart like a sword.
"Haha Walker. Very funny," he says, not amused in the least.
"Chuck," I mumble, trying as hard as I can to control my limbs and get off whatever contraption holds me.
"Where's the fire? Calm down," he orders, in a slightly worried tone.
"I need to see him," I plead, not caring how strange my request. I need to see him one last time, even if it's just his lifeless corpse.
Casey puts his hands on my shoulders and pushes me back down onto the bed. I struggle against him with all my might, but his grip is fierce and I am feeble, in my drained state.
"Bartowski's in surgery. You can't see him now, unless you know how to perform a lobotomy," Casey informs me, using his not so funny sense of humor.
His words stop my struggle like a car hitting a brick wall. I'm not sure if he said what I think he just said, but I'm sure as hell going to find the truth.
"He's alive," I inquire.
As if sensing I no longer have a desire to break free of my prison, he lifts his hands off of my body and places them awkwardly at his side, before crossing them over his torso. He then takes a step away from me, trying to get into his professional agent mode.
"He's in surgery now, has been for hours," he explains.
"That's impossible. He was dead. I felt him die," I say, shaking my head back and forth in an effort to repudiate his words.
"Well your hands must have been a little too cold Walker," he yells, startling me to a stop. I can tell he regrets his words because his face softens slightly.
"He's alive," I repeat.
Casey shakes his head in affirmation and proceeds to explain himself. " After I got there with backup, you passed out. We checked Chuck and he had a weak pulse, a very weak pulse, but he was still among the living."
He glances at me to see how I'm digesting the information before continuing.
"You were actually yards away from one of the mountain roads, so we loaded you both in the vehicles and got you to the hospital ASAP. The kid's been in surgery for over five hours. They won't tell me his chances."
"I need to be with him," I state, once again trying to get to my feet. Just like before, Casey pushes me back down. However, this time he threatens to restrain me.
"There's nothing you can do for him Agent Walker. You're being treated for exhaustion and dehydration. That means you need to stay in bed."
"He's alive," I say for the third time, not caring how redundant it sounds. As if I'm a torrent of water crashing against a crack in the Hoover Dam that has finally burst, I crumble. My shoulders begin to shake uncontrollably and I take in great gulps of air. Tears that have been threatening to escape for the last forty-eight hours finally breach the gates and course down my face. I constantly repeat my two word mantra.
"Okay. You just stay here and rest. I'll let you know if anything changes," Casey says hesitantly, backpedaling out of the room as quickly as possible.
I can't really blame him. I must look like a wreck of an operative, but there are just some times in life when you can't maintain the veneer. This is one of those times. Wrapping my arms around my stomach, I curl into a fetal position and eventually drift into nothingness. Thankfully, my subconscious is free of dreams.
What I can only assume is hours later, I return to the land of the living. I'm not sure what caused me to stir. It may have been the light streaming into my room through the window or the medical personnel sprinting down the hall in the direction of the blaring bells. My heart sinks as my mind recognizes the meaning of the stimuli. Despite my frailty, I yank the IV from my arm and struggle to my feet. The floor is cold against my bare skin, but I persevere.
The hallway is quiet by the time I cross the threshold of my room. Holding onto the handrail, I slowly make my way in the direction of the previous commotion. A voice from behind stops me in my tracks.
"Christ Walker. Bartowski may want to see you like this, but I certainly don't," Casey barks.
It is then that I realize the state of my dress or undress as most would describe it. I'm wearing one of those hospital gowns and the back is definitely not secured. My only saving grace is that the nurses left my undergarments in place, but it doesn't prevent a slight blush from creeping onto my cheeks. Regaining all the self-assuredness that I can muster, I turn to face my witty partner.
"You're just mad that this is the only chance you'll ever get Casey," I joke, with a glint in my eye that has been all too absent the last month.
He rolls his eyes but says nothing, moving forward to take my arm. "Let's get you some proper clothing and we can go see dumb and dumber."
"He's ok," I question, with more emotion in my voice than I would have liked for Casey to hear. I'm not even sure why I bother to hide it. He saw me break down. He has to have a pretty good idea about my feelings towards our asset.
"They brought him out of surgery about an hour ago. We can see him once the nurse gives us the say so," he informs me, breaking my inner musings.
I'm a little miffed. "You said you would come get me right away."
He will have none of my blame game. "I did, but you were sleeping. We couldn't have gotten in anyway because he's still unconscious from the anesthesia."
The human part of me realizes that Casey has gone above and beyond the call of duty. As just an agent, he would have no obligation to inform me of Chuck's status and make sure I get time with him. All he really needs to do is stand guard over Chuck's room, but he's taken the time to make sure I'm okay and that's strangely touching.
In a moment of temporary insanity, I lay my head against his chest and tighten my arms around his waist. "Thank you Casey. You saved his life and I'll never forget that," I remark.
For his part, Casey is completely stiff. Out of obligation, he gives me a pat on the back and quickly extricates himself from my grasp. Leading me into my room, he says, "We will never speak of this moment. Now come on, let's go see your guy."