A/N: Thanks to BillatWork for reading the first version of this chapter and pointing me in a better direction.
Again, I apologize for the wait. I'm blaming it on school. :P But thanks to those of you who have stuck with this story (and my other ones) throughout. I appreciate it!
Whoopsidaisy! The first lyrics are still from Snow Patrol's "Signal Fire." The second song is "If We Were in Love," lyrics by Alan and Marilyn Bergman, music by John Williams.
There you are, standing right in front of me
There you are, standing right in front of me
All this fear falls away to leave me naked
Hold me close
Cause I need you to guide me to safety.
Curled up on the couch, next to the fireplace, Sarah longs for the blustery winters of her childhood. LA winters are entirely too warm for her liking. She's good at pretending, and she's glad for the fireplace in their new apartment, because she can build a fire and make some hot chocolate and cuddle up on the couch with her book. The only thing is she's on number seven of Chuck's list of his favorite science fiction and fantasy books (which is really longer than ten, because Chuck's sneaked on at least six series . . .).
Number seven is Wizard's First Rule.
It's actually an excellent book, so excellent that she's barely put it down in the past three days, to the point where she's hardly had any interaction with Chuck. The problem is that the main characters, Richard and Kahlan, are too much like her and Chuck. It's torture watching them fall in love, all the while knowing they can never be together, but she can't bring herself to stop reading. It's too much like her own situation, and the worst part is that she can see no way out for Kahlan and Richard. By extension, she can see no way out for herself and Chuck.
She frowns as she turns the page, because Richard's gotten himself in trouble again. Chuck walks into the living room, a jacket over his hoodie and a messenger bag slung around his shoulder, but she keeps her eyes carefully trained on the page.
"I'm going over to Morgan's," he says. "Probably won't be back 'til late."
"Okay."
Chuck moves beside the couch. "There's leftover pizza in the fridge if you get hungry. And you know where the take-out menus are, if you're not in the mood for pizza."
A smile springs to her face, and she finally looks at him. Since they moved, they've both had to learn some basic cooking skills. Hers are still limited to breakfast and dessert, which suits Chuck fine, because he's quite able to take care of lunch and dinner. Even so, they order out so often that the local pizzeria and Chinese restaurant know them on a first name basis and simply by the sounds of their voices when they call. Oddly enough, that more than anything has caused Morgan to give his seal of approval to the new living arrangement.
"Thanks," Sarah tells him. "I'm sure I can manage."
"Right," he chuckles, glancing down at his Converses. "Of course you can." She returns to her book, expecting him to leave, but he nudges her knee with his own and says softly, "Hey, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," she replies without lifting her eyes from the page.
He sits down at the end of the couch, just beyond her blanket-covered feet, and leans his forearm on her raised knees. "You're really bad at lying to me, you know," he tells her, the hint of a smirk on his face.
Damn. She knows she's been slipping, even more so since they moved in together, but she had hoped she could still hide certain emotions from him, or that he'd be sweet enough to pretend he'd never seen them in the first place. But she has no such luck.
Her gaze flickers to briefly meet his. "At least I'm still good at lying to all the people who want us dead."
"You're changing the subject."
"You're the one who changed it in the first place. Now get going." She pushes his thigh. "You're going to be late."
His smile fades. "I'm not leaving until you tell me what's bothering you."
Sarah sighs. "I hate this book. That's what's wrong."
He gently takes the novel out of her hands and places it on the coffee table. He reaches out to place a finger under and lift her chin. She shyly meets his eyes.
"You've barely spoken to me for the past few days because you've had your nose buried in it. There's no way you hate it. So what's really bothering you?"
She hates the way he can see through her, hates the way he makes her want to confess all her secrets and fears with just one look.
She swallows before telling him in a soft voice, "The wedding . . ."
Chuck tilts his head, confused. "The wedding? What do you mean?"
She purses her lips, finding it hard to believe that she waited until just a few days before the wedding to raise her objections. "I mean, I don't know if I can be a proper bridesmaid." He gives her a half-smile, still not understanding. "It's just . . . there are certain people who are really good at things like that, things like being a bridesmaid." She clarifies, "Friend things."
Chuck's smile grows as he rests his chin on his arm, already resting on her knees. "You're a good friend, Sarah. I know you think you haven't had much practice, but you are." He lowers his voice and looks around conspiratorially. "Morgan's got years on you and you kind of blow him out of the water in that department." He chuckles, but his voice is serious as he adds, "But you want to know the real reason you'll be all right?" Pausing, he takes her hand. "Because I'll be right by your side the entire day."
His words warm her heart, even more than the fire warms her feet. Unable to keep her lips from curving into a smile, she leans forward and threads the fingers of her free hand through his curls. "You're sweet, Chuck. Thank you." She sighs and adds with a light laugh, "But you should probably go. I wouldn't want to keep Morgan waiting too long."
He laughs and gives her a peck on the cheek before rising from the couch. He doesn't let her hand drop until their arms are stretched to full length. She watches him go, gladdened when he turns around at the door to give her one last smile, and picks up her book again.
She wakes up as he tiptoes into the living room. He slings his bag onto the armchair and walks quietly over to the couch. She stirs, blinking her eyes open, as he removes the book from her hands and places it on the coffee table. He takes the blanket from the back of the couch, and lays it over her, his hands lingering as he tucks it around her shoulders.
"Mmm," she murmurs, rolling onto her side, "how was video gaming?"
Smiling, Chuck sits on the coffee table. "Good, good."
"Don't sit on my book!" she shouts lazily.
He jumps up just enough to check if he's sitting on, but settles back down when he sees he isn't. "Relax," he says quietly. "Why aren't you in bed?" He fixes an admonishing look on her. "Please tell me you ate dinner."
She smiles shyly, grateful that he can't see her blush in the dimness of the room. But she buries her face in the pillow anyways. "You don't have to worry about me so much, you know."
"If I didn't, you probably wouldn't even take the time to eat," he teases with a chuckle. "Now are you going to come to bed or do you want to sleep out here?"
"I want to sleep with you."
The words are out of her mouth before she can think about them, before she can apply her usual censor to her tired brain. Her cheek against the pillow, she freezes, her eyes wide as they stare at the coffee table.
Foot, meet mouth.
"Uh . . ." she mutters, "I meant, I meant that –"
"You're tired," Chuck says quietly, and when she finally has the courage to look at him, she sees the shock fading from his eyes. "Let's get you to sleep, shall we?"
She breathes a low sigh of relief and takes the hand he gallantly offers, letting him lead her to the bedroom.
He stays in the bathroom extra-long tonight, probably to give her private time to change into her pajamas. She's grateful, even though they've been dressing in the same room since just a few weeks after they moved in. It took a while for Chuck to get comfortable dressing around her, but tonight she's glad she doesn't have to deal with the sidelong glances and the knowing silences.
Sarah finishes dressing and hops onto the bed, sitting with her legs crossed beneath her. With a sigh, she lets her hair, already messy because of napping on the couch, out of its ponytail and runs a hand through it. She squeezes her eyes shut and buries her face in her hands. Each day brings her closer to telling Chuck her true feelings. But at the same time, does he even still need her to say it out loud? For heaven's sake, even Casey understands how she feels, why she acts the way she does, why she insists on torturing herself by living with Chuck even though the relationship can never be consummated.
He comes back into the room, his eyes carefully avoiding hers, and she stands. Walking past him, she reaches out a hand and lets it drift across his stomach. His abdominal muscles tense, but he doesn't move away and the touch is over in just a few seconds. When she's finished brushing her teeth and getting ready for bed, she stands in the doorway of the bedroom, her arms crossed and her shoulders sagging as she watches him pretend to be sleeping.
Sarah rolls down the covers on her side and climbs into bed. He shifts but doesn't open his eyes. Usually, he'd open an arm for her to curl up against him, and they'd be asleep within minutes. But tonight she keeps her distance. Tonight, she feels like if she touches him, they'll be no going back.
She flips on her side, away from Chuck. But she's not tired anymore, and she ends up just staring at the wall. She counts the seconds first, then the minutes.
After a full four minutes, she asks in a whisper, "Are you still awake?"
The mattress sinks a bit, the sheets rustle. "Yeah, of course. What's up?"
"I'm sorry."
He scoots closer, so close she can feel his breath on her neck and feel his fingers fiddling with the hem of her tank top. "For what?"
She sighs. "For . . . being such a social burden."
He laughs lightly, his breath tickling her hair. "What are you talking about?"
"I feel like you always have to look out for me when we're with your family and friends, that's all."
Chuck props himself up, draping an arm across her waist in an attempt to turn her over to look at him. "Hey, where's all this coming from?"
She flips onto her back and looks up at him. "I'm supposed to be the one protecting you, remember? So why's it seem like you're always the one taking care of me, huh?"
He purses his lips thoughtfully. "This is about the wedding, isn't it? Do you want me to call you during the bachelorette party tomorrow to get you out of it?"
Sarah lets out a laugh and runs her fingers through her hair. Then, impulsively, she runs her fingers through his as well. His mouth is frozen in a smile, but his eyes are strangely distant. Extracting her fingers from his curls, she asks quietly, "Why does your sister trust me so much?"
For that matter, why do you trust me so much?
Shrugging, he replies, "She thinks you're good for me. You actually get me out of the house for something other than video games or movies."
Sarah chuckles again but quickly grows sober. "That doesn't seem like enough of a reason."
With a grim expression, he replies, "That's because you're used to a world of lying and secrecy, where people are never what they seem to be, where goodness can't be trusted." He hooks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "And I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry you have to live in that world."
Sarah can't breathe. Men have given her compliments regarding her beauty, her body, before, but they've never taken the time to get to know the person beneath it all or to compliment her personality. And she's never gotten one from a man she's actually cared about this much. Staring up into Chuck's adorable, goofy face right now, Sarah's never felt so in love. And she's never before felt just how inadequate the expressions of that love are.
She looks past him, a lump in her throat and that familiar pain behind her eyes. This is it – a fight or flight moment. They've come to many of these crossroads in the past, and she always runs away, always in the opposite direction of Chuck.
But the thing is if you keep running, you never learn what it's like to feel the sun warming your face or what it's like to smell the flowers by the side of the road.
She could tell him. She could.
But something, some tiny misgiving buried in her chest, keeps her from speaking up. Her lips go numb, her tongue goes dry, her throat goes tight.
Of all the names she's been called, in all the languages, 'coward' was never one of them. Until now.
Off her look, Chuck lies back down beside her, and she turns toward him, burying her head against his collarbone. He keeps his arm around her, tightening it a bit as her tears wet his undershirt. She's able to hold back the deluge, though, and only a few drops fall. She snuggles closer against him, grateful for his warmth, for his comfort, for him.
And just like she has every night since they moved in together, Sarah falls asleep in Chuck's arms.
"Chuck! You're not answering your phone! You have a cute message. That helps to make up for it, I guess. Very adorable-nerd-in-a-"Battlestar-Galactica"-t-shirt type of cute. Nerds don't drink moe-hee-toes, though."
Laughter.
"I'm drinking moe-hee-toes. Have you ever had a moe-hee-toe? You really should try one. They're de-licious! I don't know why we don't have them more often.
"You know what else we don't have very often?
"Sex! We never have sex.
"I think that's your fault, Mr. Bartowski. And I'm angry about that. I hope you can pick up on that over the phone. Can you?"
Pause.
"I'm angry about the no-sex thing, not the no-moe-hee-toe thing. Just so you know.
"You should also know that I expect to fix that tonight. The no-sex thing, I mean."
"Ellie, get over here! I think Sarah's drunk-dialing!"
Sarah groans sleepily as sturdy arms wrap around her, lifting her into the air. She beats feebly at his chest before giving up and settling her head against him. Her tongue tastes bad, like sandpaper. Why does her tongue taste so bad?
And that's when memories of the bachelorette party come flooding back to her. The music, the mojitos, the phone call – oh, God! The phone call!
Her eyes snap open, her head jerking up towards Chuck. He glances down at her amused. She didn't think she could get any more mortified. How did she let her guard slip that much?
Before she can apologize, before she can make an excuse, he asks, "Did you have a good time at the party?"
Seriously? She's half-asleep and instead of pressing her about that ridiculously compromising phone call, he wants to talk about whether she had fun at Ellie's bachelorette party?
He sneaks another glance down at her, and that's when she realizes.
Of course he wouldn't. He's Chuck, and a gentleman never presses his advantage.
"Yeah, I did," she answers shyly. "Did you?"
Looking slightly perplexed, he dodges, "Oh, yeah, sure. It was . . . fun."
She pokes him in the chest. "What did you do?"
He chuckles. "Morgan and I snuck off to play some video games after an hour or so," he confesses.
Rolling her eyes, she settles her head against his chest again. "What am I going to do with you?" she murmurs.
He simply shrugs, laughing, and when they finally reach the bedroom, she finds that she doesn't want him to put her down. She loves it when he carries her. But put her down he does, placing her gently on top of the covers. He falls onto the bed beside her, looking dead tired. Lying on her back, she stares at the ceiling before turning her face to look at him wordlessly.
He's asleep, his breathing faint and rhythmic.
He looks so innocent, so naïve, and her heart suddenly constricts with a longing to give him the future he wants.
Only, she's not so sure she can give him that future.
Sarah jogs through the courtyard, her dress hoisted up over her heels and a plastic shopping bag swinging from one hand. She can hear shouts and laughter coming from the surrounding apartments – female from the Bartowskis' and male from Casey's. As she's passing by the fountain, the door to Ellie's apartment opens and Jordan, a nurse at Ellie's hospital and another bridesmaid, peeks out.
"Did you get it?" she asks.
Sarah holds up the bag of hairspray she'd been sent out for. "Of course, right here!"
Jordan, her hand to her chest, breathes a sigh of relief. "You're awesome, Sarah. Thank you so much."
Sarah laughs and hands off the bag, resting her back against the doorframe.
"You coming?" Jordan asks.
"In a minute."
Jordan crosses her arms and leans against the other side of the door. "A little scared?"
Sarah turns her head sharply and, uncertain, asks, "What?"
Jordan shrugs. "I get it. Weddings freak people out. But you and Chuckles seem pretty solid." She narrows her eyes. "Maybe that's the problem, though."
"What are you talking about, Jordan?"
"Everyone thinks you and Chuck are the cutest couple. But people get pushy at weddings. They'll start making comments about you two being the next to tie the knot, thinking they're being subtle when they're really just being offensive."
Sarah chuckles. "Yeah, that's pretty much what I'm afraid of."
"Well, don't worry." Sarah looks up. "Bridesmaids aren't support for only the bride, you know. We stick together. We'll keep the guests off your and Chuck's backs."
"Thanks, Jordan. I appreciate it."
"You know what else bridesmaids are good for?" Jordan continues, a mischievous smile playing across her face. "Giving groomsmen a swift kick in the pants!"
Sarah laughs. "What makes you think Chuck needs a kick in the pants?"
Shrugging, Jordan replies, "Sure, he's charming, adorable, thoughtful, but will he dance? Don't worry. I will make sure he takes you for a few spins around the dance floor."
Sarah is about to protest when Chuck himself emerges from Casey's apartment.
He's dressed in his black slacks, white button-down, and black vest already, and her breath catches at the sight. She loves him in well-cut clothes, and his tuxedo is no exception. His cornflower blue bow-tie, matching her dress, hangs untied around his collar. He looks up in the midst of buttoning his cufflinks, and a smile breaks out onto his face.
Jordan squeezes her shoulder. "See you in a few."
"Yeah, see you," Sarah murmurs without taking her eyes off of Chuck.
He walks up to her, still struggling with the cufflink. Without a thought, she buttons it up for him.
He blushes slightly and says, "I still can't believe Casey let all the groomsmen get ready in his apartment." He holds up two fingers, a millimeter of space between them. "I think he's about this close to shooting Woody just to get him to shut up. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
She quirks a brow as she turns to address his bow-tie. "About Casey wanting to shoot the original Mr. Awesome?"
"About Casey suddenly becoming the perfect neighbor?"
"I just did my duty as a bridesmaid – asked him if we could use his place – that's all."
"'Asked'?" he questions with a grin. "Or aggressively persuaded?"
Her mouth twitches into a matching grin, and she's glad that tying his bowtie allows her to avoid his eyes. "Fine. You caught me. I . . . convinced him."
"Why?"
"Because." Her fingers pause in their work. "I want this day to go perfectly."
They smile at each other, and Sarah's heart lifts the slightest bit.
Chuck finally breaks the stare by asking, "So how's everything going in there?"
"Oh, we had a hairspray emergency," she giggles. "But it's going fairly well considering. Your sister's quite the calm bride."
"I'm glad to hear it. If you need anything, let me know."
She takes his hand and pulls him toward the door. "Why don't you come inside and ask for yourself? There's no rule about groomsmen, you know."
Their appearance is met by a burst of delighted shouts.
"Chuck! You look so handsome!"
"Oh, you two are so adorable together!"
"Be sure to save a dance for me, Chuck!"
Blushing, Chuck greets the four other bridesmaids and Honey with a shy wave and pulls Sarah down the hallway toward Ellie's bedroom. He knocks softly on the doorframe and walks in.
"Hey, sis. You look beautiful."
Ellie turns around, looking stunning in a strapless, off-white gown, her hair done up in curls with sparkling pins. A brilliant smile lights up her face.
"Chuck!" She embraces him warmly. "What are you doing here?"
He shrugs. "The guys were getting a little overwhelming. Thought I'd come over to see if you needed any help."
"No," she shakes her head. "Sarah and the rest of the bridesmaids have everything taken care of."
Hands in his pockets, Chuck glances over at Sarah. "Yeah? Is she doing a good job?"
Ellie laughs and smoothes down the folds of her gown. "She's been great. She saved us when we ran out of hairspray."
Chuck rolls his eyes at the notion of an emergency hairspray run but says, "I'm glad." His gaze lingers on Sarah's, and in the quiet that follows, she can hear the distant laughter from the living room.
Ellie rubs Sarah's arm and gushes, "You two look so great. I'm really glad you could share this with us, Sarah."
She smiles shyly. "Me, too."
They're startled by a knock on the door.
Jordan sticks her head in and says, "I hate to interrupt, but I wanted to let you know that the limos are here."
Chuck smiles. "I think that's our cue."
"Why don't you go ahead and get everyone else ready, Chuck?" Ellie suggests. "Sarah can help me with my veil, and we'll be out in a few minutes."
Chuck glances at Sarah, who wouldn't dare defy even a suggestion from Ellie. Off her look, he nods and, smiling, exits the room.
Ellie turns to Sarah. "Chuck looks handsome, doesn't he?"
"Very."
Ellie picks up her veil from off the bed and hands it to her. "Will you . . .?"
"Oh, sure," Sarah says, taking the veil from her and scooping a handful of bobby pins off the dresser.
"Listen, I wanted to apologize," she begins as she turns to face the mirror. "Devon really wanted to have Chuck as his best man, and I was so excited when you said you'd be a bridesmaid. But Chuck's always going on about how shy you are, so I didn't want to put any extra pressure on you by making you the maid of honor. I didn't want to make you feel weird or anything. So I'm sorry you and Chuck aren't paired together."
Shrugging, Sarah skillfully attaches the veil. "Well, hey, we're both still in the wedding party, right? And I consider it an honor to be your bridesmaid, Ellie."
Her veil in place, Ellie turns and grins at Sarah. She shakes her head, a tinge of sadness coming into her eyes. "I just can't believe this day is finally here."
"I know!" Sarah agrees with a light laugh. "Especially after all that planning with the Awesomes." Ellie's smile falters just the slightest bit. "Hey," Sarah says quietly, fixing the bride's bangs, "what's wrong? What's the matter?"
Ellie smiles again, but it's half-hearted. "I love Devon's family. They're a bit overwhelming, but I do love them. It's just that . . . Chuck had promised to find our dad, to walk me down the aisle, you know. And I knew all this time that it was a long shot, and that it was silly –"
"No, Ellie, it's not silly." Her voice breaks as she says it, and she wonders if he had really promised that.
Ellie's close to tears now. "He's been gone for almost twelve years. I shouldn't have expected him to come back. And now I think Chuck's upset because he couldn't find him."
The news that Chuck had been searching for his father floors Sarah. She would have expected him to come to her, to use the resources she has access to. She had thought he was through with hiding things from her, and it stings that he doesn't trust her, even with memories that painful.
She swallows, recovering from the news. "You've done so much for him, Ellie. He just wants to repay you."
"I wish he knew that he does that everyday, just by being my goofy little brother."
Sarah smiles, taking Ellie's hands. "Do you want me to tell him?"
"That'd be nice. But I want you guys to have fun today, okay? Promise me that?"
"Of course," Sarah nods, grinning. "It's the Woodcomb wedding. How could we not have fun?"
Chuck's waiting for them by the limos, the rest of the bridesmaids already in the first one. The toes of his dress shoes are tapping impatiently, and Sarah's suddenly thankful that she was able to convince him not to wear his Converses for the wedding. She's still not sure whether he's planning on busting them out for the reception, though.
"Ellie, I love you, but you're killing me here," he says, pointing to his watch and gesturing to their ride. "The guys are getting restless."
His sister grins sheepishly at him. "I know, I know! Give me a break or I'll sic Great-aunt Gertrude on you!"
Her laughter continues even as she disappears into the recesses of the car.
Sarah glances at Chuck, and he's frozen, a look of fathomless horror on his face. "Who's Great-aunt Gertrude?" she snickers.
He snaps out of his stupor, gulping as he comes to. "Blind as a bat, likes to pinch asses, that's all you need to know," he says quickly, giving her a gentle shove.
Grinning, Sarah resists the push. "Hey, hey, hey," she says softly, reaching an arm around his waist, and the fact that one bride and four very curious bridesmaids are watching them right now falls away. "Are you so eager to be rid of me?" she teases.
Looking up at her as if he's just noticed her, he smiles. "No, sorry. I just don't want the wedding party to be late for their own wedding, that's all."
Leaning in close, she rubs his arm and whispers in his ear, "Chuck, calm down, all right? Enjoy this." He nods as she pulls away. She smiles playfully. "Kiss for the road?"
Chuckling, he gives her a short kiss, and his face turns red when a giggly chorus of "aww"s follows. Deciding to spare him further embarrassment, she releases him.
"See you at the church, okay?"
"Yeah," he smiles, "see you there."
To her surprise, and delight, he gives her hand a final squeeze as he hands her into the limo.
Sarah stands at the front of the deserted church. The guests have departed, on their way to the reception, and the rest of the bridal party is outside taking pictures. The bouquet of pink tulips and white jasmine hangs loosely in her hand as she stares at the church, the white ribbons on the pews, the stained glass windows, the flower petals still strewn over the main aisle.
This could be hers one day. She could have the white dress and the chaos and the overwhelming happiness. She could have the reception and the dancing and the gifts. She could have it all, if she could only see past all the obstacles and hurdles blocking their way.
Even just the thought of him brings a smile to her face.
She could have all that, but she doesn't need it. What she really wants is a quiet celebration, not something elaborate. She wants something that's beautiful because of the love it represents, not because of how much time it took or how much money was spent.
A door in the back of the church opens slowly, creakingly. She keeps her head down for a minute, her eyes closed, drinking in the last moment of silence she will have for the rest of the day. When she looks up, Chuck is standing there, one hand on the last pew. Even from the opposite end of the church, she can see the grin brightening up his face. He sticks his hands into his trouser pockets and strolls leisurely up the aisle, his feet kicking at the petals, his eyes on her the entire way.
"You see," he begins playfully, "I'm pretty positive that the point of getting all gussied up is so that pictures can be taken and that the day can be immortalized for all of time." His eyes get wide as he emphasizes the last part of the sentence, and, as much as she tries, she can't suppress a laugh.
"Did you really just say 'gussied up'?" she asks.
Laughing, he reaches her, reaches out to her, and the perfect joy on his face makes it hard to breathe. She drops the bouquet, taking him in her arms instead, and pulls him close. Her forehead against his, she lets out a shaky breath and presses one hand against the back of his neck. His fingers ghost over her hips, the touch sending a shockwave coursing through her.
She leans toward him, just close enough to brush her lips the slightest bit against his upper one. Her heart rate skyrockets, and she can feel the blood pounding in her ears.
But now is not the time, and this is not the place.
Sighing, she says, "I know what you did for Ellie."
His arms grasp her waist a bit more tightly. "I don't know what you're talking about," he protests quietly.
"Your father," she whispers, caressing his neck. Eyes closed, he slowly shakes his head. So close, she can feel the anguish radiating from him. Her voice is almost as pained as his face as she continues. "Why didn't you tell me? I could have helped."
His face scrunches up, but Chuck stays silent. She embraces him, holding him tightly, running her hands up and down his back, and hugging his head to her chest. Still he doesn't say a word.
"I hope you know that I want to help you," she says softly. "Always."
He pulls away from her abruptly. "I'm sorry." Chuckling nervously, he says, "You know, I was supposed to drag you out to take pictures. Now they'll just think I came in here to hide."
Chuck starts to walk back down the aisle, but she grabs him by the arm.
"No," she says more firmly, "you don't get to walk away from this. I don't care how much it embarrasses you, you have to hear it. I want you to." He freezes but doesn't look at her. She drops his arm, confident that he'll stay and listen. "I'm proud of you, Chuck, for everything you've done, for everything you are, for everything you have the potential to be.
"Ellie's proud of you. Awesome, too. All your friends." She pauses. "You should know."
Chuck sighs heavily, finally breathing out a low, "Thank you."
And when they join the rest of the bridal party for pictures, he harbors a small, modest smile, one she can't help but share.
Chuck clears his throat and stands up, champagne glass in hand. Sarah admires him in his tux. He looks so dapper that she wishes he had more excuses for wearing suits. She keeps telling herself she'll only stare for one more second, but one second turns into two, and seconds turn into minutes. He's been wearing it all day, but it's like she can't get used to it. She barely paid attention to the ceremony because she'd been staring at him across the aisle the entire time.
Right now, the guests are so wrapped up in conversation that no one's really paying him much attention. He clears his throat again, louder this time, and the rest of the wedding party looks up. Sarah dings her fork against her glass, and the din of conversation gets quieter. He shoots her a grateful smile, which she returns shyly. The DJ, finally catching on to what's going on, walks over and hands Chuck a wireless mike.
Chuck mutters his thanks and nervously brings the mike up to his mouth. "Hey, everyone." The noise in the ballroom finally ceases, and all eyes turn toward him. "Hi. I think most of you know me, but for those who don't, I'm Chuck, Ellie's brother."
He swallows and looks to Sarah, who flashes him an encouraging smile. Heartened, he continues, "Well, I've known her all my life, obviously, and I can honestly say that she's the best person I know. She practically raised me, and she's still one of my best friends. I'm truly thankful to be able to call her my sister.
"But when she brought home Devon one day, I didn't know what to think. Here was this tall, muscular, blond jock, who could probably kick my ass without breaking a sweat or messing up his perfect hair." Chuck sticks one hand in his pocket. "It didn't take me very long to figure out what a caring guy he really is. I know Devon loves my sister because of the effort he's made to insert himself into her life, to make friends with her friends, including me. As much as he loves to play sports, he doesn't mind geeking out and playing video games with me and Morgan every once in a while."
Devon and Ellie smile at this, looking up at Chuck as he continues. "I know they're going to make it because, not only are they good people, but they're fearless. And I'm not just talking about how they take risks every day as doctors."
Chuck takes a deep breath. "I'm talking about how they open up their arms to everyone they meet. I've seen them open up their home for Thanksgiving dinner to people they hardly know just because those people had no where else to go for the holiday." He smiles and glances toward Sarah. "I've seen them open their hearts to a young woman who has little family of her own.
"And I can't tell you how much they've looked out for me over the past few years, constantly pushing me in the right direction. And I love them for it, because they're completely unafraid of showing people, of showing each other, that they care." Looking at his sister and her new husband, he smiles. "That's how I know you guys are going to make it."
He raises his glass. "To Ellie and Devon. May your love last, and may you be an example for us all." The guest all clap, but as Chuck leans down to hug his sister and brother-in-law, Sarah overhears him say, "I'm sorry I don't have any practical advice for your marriage. But I do have faith in you two."
Sarah plasters a half-smile on her face, but she can't pretend the words don't hurt. Since they began living together, she had hoped he would come to see that their relationship, strange and unconventional though it is, is no less true because it lacks all the signs that most often accompany romances. So maybe she can't offer him traditional girlfriend things, like nights of intense seduction, or weekend getaways, or sexy lingerie.
But they do have real conversations, and they sleep in the comfort of each other's arms every night, and she reserves a special smile only for him. She thought he could at least see that.
The uncertain smile is still on her face when he comes back over to sit next to her, but it grows when he rests an arm against the back of her chair.
"That was quite a speech," she tells him, leaning in so he can hear her over the DJ.
"Thank you." He takes a gulp of champagne and licks his lips, either recovering from speaking in public or just extremely parched.
Sarah reaches out to touch his knee. "So how's it feel?"
He regards her curiously. "What, exactly?"
"I don't know," she shrugs. "We've all been preparing for this wedding for so long. You haven't said much, but I know being best man has been a pressure for you, and now that you're done with that wonderful speech, aren't you relieved?"
Chuck smiles, that full, bright smile that she's come to love. "Yeah, I am. And I'm happy. I'm happy that Ellie and Devon are getting their perfect day. I'm happy that you're by my side to help them celebrate it." He pauses dramatically, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "And I'm happy that no bad guys have shown up to ruin it for them."
She chuckles. "Me, too."
"But you promised me that this day would go perfectly, and I didn't doubt you for a minute."
"Not even for a minute?"
"Okay, maybe for a minute," he laughs.
He's so close now that she can feel his breath, hot and inviting, on her cheek. Timidly, his eyes search hers. She's never felt so close to surrendering, but she blames it on the overly romantic atmosphere and can only pray that he hasn't planned anything for Valentine's Day next week. He seems content to not say anything, to not press her, and she's content to just look at him.
A bright flash of light startles them both. Sarah turns to find the offender, her hand automatically drifting toward the knives strapped around her thigh. Chuck's hand reassuringly covers her own, letting her know the threat is not a threat at all, just the wedding photographer.
But even Chuck's touch can't calm her completely, and her glare loses none of its fierceness.
The photographer swallows, her shoulders hunched nervously. "I'm sorry. It was just such a cute picture. And Ellie was insistent that I get some of the two of you."
Chuck grins and jerks a thumb at Sarah. "Don't worry about it. This one's just stubborn, has a thing against getting her picture taken." Sarah lightly smacks him on the shoulder. "And she doesn't like anyone to know about it, either." He leans forward, lowers his voice, and winks conspiratorially. "Do me a favor? Take as many of her as you can, okay?"
The photographer glances between them, then, taking in Chuck's charming demeanor, nods her agreement and scuttles away before Sarah can protest. Chuck turns to face her, his eyes sparkling as he laughs.
"Oh, come on," he says. "The angry eyes? It's just a picture, after all. And it's the Woodcomb wedding. You had to have known how many cameras would be here."
She pouts. "It's not the picture."
Perplexed, he tilts his head. "Then what is it?"
The lost moment.
Sarah takes a deep breath, glances around the ballroom, and shakes her head. "Nothing."
"Fine." He frowns and slaps his knees. "I'll go get us some drinks."
She watches him go, scratching her eyebrow, lamenting yet another wasted opportunity.
After dinner, the DJ announces that it's time for the bouquet toss. Ellie, all her bridesmaids, and Chuck join forces to drag Sarah out onto the dance floor. She complies, but hovers near the back of the group, trying to pick the worst spot for flower catching. And of course, the toss comes near to her, too close for her liking. Sarah throws her arms up half-heartedly, trying to please Chuck but secretly pleased when someone else, a brunette friend of Ellie's, catches it.
And then she remembers the second half of the tradition.
She strolls back to the edge of the dance floor, where Chuck's waiting with his arms crossed, a smug look on his face.
"What?" she asks.
"That was a nice effort out there," he teases.
She pokes him in the chest. "Yeah, well, I want to see a similar effort from you."
He starts to nod but then frowns, baffled. "Wait, what?"
Sarah nods to the pretty brunette who caught the bouquet, then turns to smile at him. "You heard me. You better not catch that garter."
Chuck's eyes widen in understanding as his mouth forms a perfect 'O'. "Noted," he tells her with a tilt of his head. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his trousers and shuffles onto the dance floor, turning around to grin at her as he goes.
She raises a hand to her cheek, laughing as she watches him make a show of trying to catch the garter. He walks back to her, his head hanging, and snaps his fingers in feigned disappointment.
Placing an arm on his shoulder, she says, "Oh, cheer up. I'll go get us some cake."
When she's had a few too many Coca-a-Colas (because she's afraid alcohol would loosen her inhibitions and her tongue a little too much), she skips out toward the restrooms, pausing when she notices Chuck following her. She lifts an eyebrow at him.
He shrugs and offers her his arm. "Can't a guy escort his girlfriend to the bathroom without raising any questions?"
She smiles indulgently, taking his arm. "Of course you can, sweetie."
He doesn't address the comment, but she blushes slightly, alarmed at the terms of endearment that slip so easily from her lips. He doesn't seem to mind, or even notice anymore, when she calls him 'sweetie' or 'honey,' even when no one else is around, even when they have no need of their cover relationship. She feels her cheeks burning again, something that's been happening way too often today, and she forces her eyes away from Chuck, oblivious though he is.
When she's done washing her hands in the bathroom, she stares at herself in the mirror, needing the extra time away from the noise and the crowds. And then she remembers the man waiting for her outside. After quickly reapplying her lipstick, she exits to find him leaning against the wall.
"Thanks for waiting," she says, looping her arm through his once more.
He grins. "No problem. It's nice to get away from the chaos for a few minutes."
Turning to him with a smile, she brushes back a stray curl. "I'd ask if you wanted to sneak out for a little while, but I have a feeling that that goes against probably every single bridesmaid rule in the book."
He chuckles, but his laugh dies away quickly. "You sure you're doing okay with this bridesmaid thing? I mean, Ellie and Awesome both love you, but I didn't want you to feel pushed into it."
She stops him with a hand on his chest. "Chuck, I wanted to do this. This isn't me conforming to my cover as girlfriend and doing what I should be doing. This is me doing what I want to do."
For you.
"I thought you didn't want to, though," he says uncertainly.
She gives a little shrug, suddenly shy. "I was nervous and wasn't sure if I could do a good job, but I never didn't want to do it."
He smiles, but she can detect a hint of strain in the expression. "Well, I know Ellie's grateful."
Sliding her hand up to his shoulder, she says quietly, "I should thank you, though."
"Me?" he chuckles nervously. "What for?"
She gives him a peck on the cheek. "For giving me the confidence I needed to be a friend."
Smiling, he leads her back to the main hall, and they make small talk along the way, Sarah ever grateful for the level of comfort in their relationship. Suddenly, though, Chuck stiffens. Before she can ask what's wrong, he turns to their right and leads her in a new direction.
"Hey," she says, touching his arm with her free hand. "What was that about? Did you flash?"
Twisting to face her, he grimaces and whispers, "Great-aunt Gertrude."
"Is that all?" she laughs. "Come on. She can't be that bad."
"Trust me," he says, trying to tug her toward the bar. She resists playfully, her smile fading when his eyes bug out and his feet seem rooted to the floor. "Oh, no," he whispers dramatically. "She's coming straight for us. There's no escape."
Sarah doesn't even have a chance to turn around before they're accosted by a mostly-blind octogenarian in a polka-dotted dress and an overstuffed hat.
"Is that my little Charlie-boy?" Gertrude screeches.
"Oh, ho!" Chuck hops away as his great-aunt pinches his butt. "Yeah, it's me, Aunt Gerty. Could you, could you just . . . stop . . . yeah, thanks."
"Oh, Charles. I haven't seen you in years! Are you still dating that Jill girl?" She leans close, delighted with the idea of a shared secret. "Didya marry her yet?"
He swallows, embarrassed, and moves toward Sarah. "No! No, Aunt Gerty. This is Sarah. She's, she's . . ." He trails off, glancing at her, and she looks back at him expectantly. He slips an around her shoulders with a smile. "She's my girlfriend."
Gertrude holds a pair of glasses up to her eyes, not bothering to hide her scrutiny of Sarah. "Well," she says, her voice less warm than before, "you're very pretty."
It doesn't sound much like a compliment.
Sarah tilts her head, not quite sure how much Gertrude can actually see. "Uh, thank you," she stammers, unconsciously smoothing her dress. She leans back into Chuck, thankful for the security he provides.
Gertrude lets her glasses fall around her neck and frowns. "Do you take good care of my Charles?"
Flabbergasted, Sarah replies, "Um . . . yes. Well, I mean I try to." She looks up at Chuck, heartened when she sees his approving smile.
"Yeah, she does, Aunt Gerty," he says, placing his hands on her arms. "More than you know."
Her eyes still narrowed in study, Gertrude lets out a hum of indecision. She leans close to Sarah. "And do you love my nephew?"
Chuck chokes in disbelief, gradually turning the choke into a cough. "You know," he begins timidly, "we actually haven't really been dating that long, so I don't know if that's really such a fair question to ask of her, Aunt Gerty. It's kind of on-the-spot and all that . . ."
Sarah, wide-eyed with fear, stares at Gertrude. As the older woman sizes her up, she can no longer hear Chuck's voice, only the furious beating of her own heart.
A crossroad, and so many directions.
But the intensity in Gertrude's eyes brings clarity.
"Absolutely," she breathes softly.
Instantly, the octogenarian relaxes, a broad grin coming to her face. Chuck's grip on her arms loosens, and Sarah can feel his eyes on her.
"Well, dearie, you take care of my boy. You hear?" Sarah nods dutifully, smiling, and Gertrude turns to Chuck. "This one's a keeper!" she shouts gleefully before shuffling off. As she goes, she mumbles, "I'm going to go find that Casey boy. He was such a nice young man."
"Oh!" Chuck shouts to her retreating form. "I think I saw him over by the DJ."
Gertrude waves a hand at them as she leaves.
Without looking at him, Sarah takes Chuck's hand in hers and drags him off toward the dance floor again.
"She's not as bad as you described her."
As she and Chuck are standing and talking playfully near the dance floor, Devon comes up behind Chuck and claps him on the shoulder. "So is it going to be your turn soon, Chuckles?" he asks with his characteristic wide grin.
Ellie sidles up to the three of them and laces her arm through Sarah's. "Yeah, are there wedding bells for you two in the near future?"
Chuck laughs nervously, his face red. He studiously avoids Sarah's eyes, intensely interested in his glass of champagne. "I don't know. We haven't really discussed it. Or even thought about it really."
Something about the way he says it, the sadness laced through his voice that Ellie and Devon don't pick up on, that makes Sarah's truthful side come out. She turns to Ellie with a smile and says, "At least not together."
Ellie's eyes widen in delight, and Sarah can tell she's holding in an overjoyed squeal. "Oh, my God," she whispers. "Details, details!"
Sarah glances at Chuck, whose eyebrows are raised in surprise. Luckily, he keeps quiet, and she's able to say in an undertone, "Later. We don't want to freak out the boys with even more wedding talk." In a louder voice, she says, "I'm so sorry. I've been totally remiss in my bridesmaid duties. Do you need anything? A drink? Do you need to go to the bathroom?"
Chuck's expression grows even more perplexed. "Do I want to know?"
"No, bro," Awesome shakes his head, "you don't."
Ellie laughs. "No, I'm fabulous right now! And don't worry, Sarah. You have been a wonderful bridesmaid!"
The conversation drifts off to other things when as Morgan and Anna join in. Sarah lets her mind wander, but she's pulled back in when Chuck catches her eye. Instead of returning to the conversation, though, she feels as though everyone, everything else – the wedding, the lights, the gowns – fades away. She can plainly see the question he can't ask. And, falling into his eyes, all she can think about is everything she wants to share with him, all the plans and all the dreams.
She wants to tell him that she won't wear white because of what it symbolizes, and he doesn't deserve a deceitful bride. She wants to tell him that he will wear a smart, three-piece suit, because she loves him in well-tailored clothes. She wants to tell him that it will be small, because she doesn't like crowds, and he doesn't have a lot of friends anyways, but that that's all right, because the friends and family they do have mean more than the world to her. She wants to tell him all this, but the words stick in her throat, her courage along with it.
Sarah hovers near back of the hall, champagne in her hand, watching the guests. Her gaze narrows as it zeroes in on Chuck, talking to a petite brunette in a green dress. Her heart tightens inside her chest, and she tears her eyes from the scene. She twists away, toward the cookie table, laden with plates of elaborately decorated desserts.
She reaches out for a peanut butter blossom when a man walks up beside her.
"Can you recommend something good?" he asks, and she doesn't have to look up to know it's Chuck.
Sarah smiles. Setting down her champagne, she turns to him and lifts the blossom to his lips. He bites into it, his eyes sparkling. With a laugh, she shoves the whole cookie into his mouth, pressing her fingers against his closed lips. His eyes widen with surprise, but he laughs, sending cookie crumbs sputtering.
He chews slowly, exaggeratedly, finally swallowing. "Oh, you did not just do that," he says playfully, hooking an arm around her waist.
Placing her palms on his chest, she lets him drag her closer. "I believe I did."
"Well, then . . ." Without taking his eyes off her, he grabs a cookie off the table and offers it to her. "Miss Walker, I think it's time you experience a little thing known as Bartowski retribution . . ."
She takes a small bite, and – is it crazy that a stupid cookie tastes this delicious? She's smiling like a fool, and Chuck's gaze has this intense pull on her own, and, oh God, is she blushing?
She is. And the realization makes the heat creep into her cheeks even faster.
He offers her a second bite and then finishes off the cookie himself, continuing to hold her stare. Starting to feel uncomfortable, she breaks the gaze and turns away from him to look toward the dance floor.
Chuck scoots closer to her and asks quietly, "So why were you over here all by yourself?"
She shrugs, sneaking a glance at him. "You were kind of making the rounds, flir-talking to everyone you know . . ."
He doesn't say anything, just gives her that look, that look that says too much. It's the one that tells her if they were dating, she'd never have to worry about him flirting with other girls, that she'd never have to worry about whether he'd stray, because his life, his thoughts, his whole being would be so entirely wrapped up in her that he could never even spare a glance at another girl.
He fixes that look on her long enough to cause her cheeks to burn yet again. She shuffles back and forth on her feet. To keep her embarrassment from escalating even further, she asks, "Want to dance?"
"I was hoping you'd never ask."
She laughs at the unexpected response. "What?"
He gestures to the guests on the dance floor. "I've only had two drinks. I usually insist on achieving a much higher level of intoxication before purposefully making a fool out of myself."
She quirks an eyebrow at him. "Usually?"
He beams and holds out his hand. "You asked very nicely."
Smiling, she takes his hand and follows him to the dance floor. A song she doesn't recognize is playing, but he pulls her close. She leans her cheek against his, surprised at how content she feels in his arms. He's quiet during the dance, allowing her to listen to the song's lyrics.
Could the skies be any bluer than they are?
Could our smiles be any warmer,
Kiss be any sweeter if we were in love?
And could we seem any closer to a star?
Could we feel more than we're feeling,
Dream more than we're dreaming if we were in love?
If we were in love, you'd think we'd know it.
When people are in love, they tend to show it.
Could the days fly any faster than they do?
Could I be more than I'm being,
See more than I'm seeing when I look at you?
Could the sun shine any brighter up above?
If the wonder of a kiss is as wonderful as this,
Just imagine how you'd love me,
How I'd love you,
If we were in love.
The song ends too quickly, and Sarah doesn't want to leave his arms. She curses silently when "YMCA" starts to play, because fast songs mean less contact, less intimacy. And in this case, it means more noise and more giddiness from the rest of the guests on the dance floor.
Impulsively, she grabs him by the hand and drags him outside into the cool night air.
The surprised look on Chuck's face only makes her more nervous. She licks her lips and takes a deep breath, hoping she can find the proper words, and all the while Chuck's standing there, waiting for her to offer a decent explanation for why she dragged him away from the reception.
"I finished the book," is what comes out.
Damn, damn. Could she be any more awkward?
Chuck laughs. "Is that what you wanted to tell me? How'd you even have time during the past few days, anyway?"
She shakes her head. "No."
"That's not what you wanted to tell me?"
"No, that didn't come out right," she clarifies.
She sighs. Why does he have to look so darn cute with his hands in his pockets and his vest unbuttoned and that ridiculously adorable smile?
Feeling flustered, embarrassed, and vulnerable, she sits down onto the top step and rests her chin against her hand.
He sits down next to her. "Is there something you wanted to talk about?"
She snorts softly. Talk. She's so bad at talking. Looking over at him, the lamplight shining on his face, she realizes just how much time she's wasted trying to talk. She's never been good at finding the right words. So she does the only thing she can think of to make him understand.
She kisses him.
She leans forward to capture his lips, bringing a hand up to his cheek to keep him from pulling away. It's the strangest kiss she's ever given, because he barely responds. Besides his lips on hers, and his tongue tentatively exploring, he doesn't take her in his arms or tangle his fingers into her hair or touch her at all. She clutches his open vest with her other hand, pulling him even closer.
Someone clears their throat. Chuck breaks off and the kiss and looks at the intruder. Sarah, her face red with embarrassment and anger, can only look at the ground, still hanging onto Chuck's shirt.
"Jordan sent me to find you," Casey says gently. "They're starting the bridal dance."
"Thanks, Case," Chuck says, his eyes on the ground and his chest heaving. "We'll be there in a minute."
Casey grunts and retreats inside the reception hall. Chuck stands and offers Sarah his hand. She regards it sadly for a moment before standing on her own. As much as she wants to stay outside, for the solitude, for the cool air to clear her head, she doesn't have that option. She's a bridesmaid; she needs to be there for the bridal dance.
Sarah smoothes the wrinkles in her dress and, without a glance at Chuck, walks back inside.
Sarah lies stretched on the couch, reading book number eight on Chuck's list. It's Friday night, a day she now loves because it's "Battlestar" night. She and Chuck pop some popcorn, curl up with a blanket on the couch, and spend one glorious hour watching a science fiction television show. It's completely ridiculous and completely amazing.
She looks up when Chuck walks in, but her smile instantly fades as she takes in his jacket and messenger bag. Sitting up, she shakes her head incredulously and asks, "Where are you going?" Because there's only half an hour before "Battlestar" begins, and where could he be going for half an hour? Ellie and Awesome are still on their honeymoon, which leaves only one plausible possibility.
She squeezes her eyes shut and sighs. "I can't believe you're going to Morgan's." He at least has the decency to look ashamed. "Why can't he just come here and watch? You know he's welcome here all the time," she pleads. "Well," she adds, "most of the time."
He shrugs apologetically. "It's not you, really. It's just . . . I needed a night off, you know?"
She runs a hand through her hair, not quite comprehending his words. Because it sounded like . . . "You needed a night off from me?"
Shaking his head, Chuck zips up his jacket and turns toward the door. "You know that's not what I meant."
She sets her book down and gets up to follow him. "No," she says emphatically. "No, Chuck Bartowski, I did not know you didn't mean that. How would I have known that?"
"Look, it's no big deal," he says, pausing in his steps. "I'll be back in a few hours."
Feeling the tears start to form behind her eyes, she looks up at the ceiling and wills them not to come. "I don't care where you go, Chuck. I care about what you said."
"Why?" he asks, almost like he can't resist baiting her.
"Because obviously something's bothering you," she replies, unable to keep her voice from rising.
He swivels around, fire in his eyes. "And why do you care so much?"
Because I love you, dumb ass!, she wants to shout.
But he doesn't get it. He really doesn't get it. She had thought her love for him was so glaringly obvious, so unmistakably present in every word she uttered, in every move she took.
But he doesn't see. And the look in his eyes is too challenging for her tonight.
In a defeated voice, she says, "Just forget it. I'll talk to you tomorrow." She slumps back onto the couch.
Stepping back toward her, he says softly, "Look, I'm sorry. It's just, the wedding last weekend really wore me out, and I needed to just relax tonight. I thought I could go over to Morgan's and just be myself, no cover, no pretending."
Even as he makes his excuses, she doesn't understand. It's just them tonight. There would have been no cover or pretending. She doesn't understand why he's so upset.
It's just them.
She grabs the blanket and pulls it back over her lap. "Just go."
Pursing his lips regretfully, he nods. "Fine," he says with a hint of sadness. "Good night." He doesn't move, waiting for her to respond. But Sarah, ever obstinate, won't give him the satisfaction. "I'll be back late probably."
And he's out the door.
She turns her eyes up the door shuts, irrationally feeling like he's walking out of her life. And twenty minutes later, when she settles down to watch "Battlestar Galactica" without him, she's no closer to understanding his motivations.
She had thought he had known. She had thought he'd always be the one fighting for them.
When the episode ends, and she's still all alone in the dark, an empty popcorn bowl next to her on the couch, she feels so incredibly empty, the world feels so incredibly empty without his presence. It weighs down on her, crushing her, and she knows she can't live like this. She can't live if he's not by her side, trusting her, protecting her, loving her.
There's only one thing to do:
Fight.