Thanks for reading and reviewing! Part 2:
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Sometime after that night Chuck has this dream. He's in a dark alleyway and there are a slew of bad guys surrounding him like right out of a comic book. Sarah's there, too, dressed as Laurie Jupiter and when she looks at him it's with a knowing smile. Chuck's not going to run and Sarah's not going to protect; they're going to take these bad guys on. They're going to fight together.
He always wanted to fight alongside Sarah and now with this new intersect he can. This is one of the best feelings Chuck's ever had.
But when they start fighting Chuck realizes that he isn't Night Owl, as the scene in Watchmen goes. He's not even Dr. Manhattan, glowing blue and all-powerful. He's Shaggy from Scooby Doo.
He's not the right guy and it's all wrong.
This is when Chuck wakes up.
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They're training in a room with blue mats on the floor when Chuck attempts a half-hearted kick. Sarah dodges it easily.
Casey, standing against the wall where he might as well be wearing a ref's uniform, rolls his eyes and scoffs: "My grandmother kicks better than that!"
"Well maybe you can ask her to come join us cuz I don't think I'm any closer to adding Norris to my name."
They've been at this for a couple of hours; first training, then fighting, and Chuck can't tell if he's making any progress but he's enduring it all because at least it gets him closer to Sarah. Ever since their tiff on the beach they've been incommunicado. He wants to apologize but all he's been able to do is pose really bad roundhouse kicks in her general direction.
"Stop holding back," Sarah says. She's in a white tank with her hair pulled back in a low ponytail. There's a bead of sweat falling down her collarbone. Sometimes he gets so distracted by her.
"Have we just met?" Chuck asks, out of breath. "I don't know how to kick. I'm not holding back!"
"Flash!" Casey barks. "I thought you knew kung fu, Bartowski."
"I can't just force it, Casey. Something has to trigger it. I don't see why I can't just fight you. A flash would probably come a lot easier that way."
"That's exactly the point," Casey says. "You have to flash even when you don't think you can."
Casey stands there akimbo, as if this is Karate Kid and Chuck's just a few secrets shy of learning the True Meaning of the The Flash. But the truth is Casey doesn't know anything about it. He doesn't know what's going on in Chuck's head. Chuck hardly knows it himself. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, the tape around his knuckles collecting the sweat. This would be a good time to throw in the towel.
But Sarah is still in her fighting stance.
"Come on," she prompts.
She's staring at him and Chuck's not sure he likes the look in her eye. She's not ready to finish this spar.
"I'm not going to hit you," he tells her.
Sarah hears him, but even so she still comes for him, sweeping his leg. He lands smack on his back, and the moans that escape his lips do nothing to help his kung fu cred. He gets up and it's not long before the fighting starts again, Sarah throwing a punch, and then another. He dodges them both until, finally, she lands one, socking him in the jaw.
They're both thrown for a minute- even Casey's eyes flash and Chuck thinks he hears a satisfied grunt coming from the big guy's direction. But almost instantly Sarah's back on her game and she punches again—backhand across his cheek. Chuck recoils.
He tastes something red on his mouth where his teeth nicked his lip.
Sarah's eyes are hungry and Chuck is struck with the realization that this isn't just a fun training montage of a day anymore. It never was.
"Hit me," she says. He's confused and breathing heavy but she's never seemed more certain. "Fight back!"
The flash comes out of nowhere. It's like he's suddenly configured with a particular set of skills, not unlike kung fu, and it's almost in a blur that he takes action, keenly aware of the fact that his fist is moving with such quick precision and force; 1-2-3, like pounding on a punching bag.
He's out of the flash just as soon as he came by it, with Casey's firm grasp tight around his shoulder. "That's enough," he says.
He's back to being Chuck, the guy who doesn't know how to fight. Except for the fact that Sarah is on the floor, doubled over on her side and holding her stomach.
"Sarah," Chuck gasps.
He moves to help her but she moves just as quickly, helping herself up with a wince. She's already stripping the tape off her hands as she walks away from him, her shoulders rising and falling in time with hard breaths.
Chuck flexes his hand. His fist is starting to throb.
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