A/N: Trying for something a little more light-hearted this chapter.

Chapter 11:

Chuck had always prided himself on not driving like ninety-percent of the population in L.A. but as he sat behind the wheel of Jill's car, he realized that the idiots who cut him off might have had legitimate reason to do so.

He didn't know what came over him. After Sarah and Bryce had gone, Jill had used the last ounce of remaining strength to pass him her car keys. At the time there was little opportunity to think over the what's and why's. It was about survival. About running away as fast and far as possible.

Jill slumped in the passenger seat, groaning as he took an overly sharp turn.

"Chuck?" she whispered, her eyes allowing only a slit of light through.

"Yeah. I'm here," he said. "You're going to be okay. I'm going to get you to a hospital."

He tried to avert his eyes from her jacket and the copious amount of blood that covered it.

"No!" she cried, using all her strength to manage a voice above a whimper. "Not the hospital," she said. "It's not safe."

"No, Jill, you need to see a doctor," Chuck said with determination. He sped down the road, honking every two seconds and basically driving like the kind of person he would have loved to hate.

"Throw away your watch," she commanded. Weak as she was, she reached over to his side with the steering wheel and tried to pry it off herself. "You need to throw it away," she repeated.

"Okay! Okay!" he said. Anything to settle her down. He removed his hands from the steering wheel and unlatched the timepiece, dangling it in front of her as proof. "Okay, I'm throwing it away." He pushed down the window and held it out in the fast-moving breeze.

Chuck hesitated, more than a little reluctant to part with it. He was suddenly reminded of the night Sarah had given it to him, the pride in her eyes when she'd helped him put it on, the way her smile broadened every time she saw him wearing it—

"Do it!" Jill ordered, rising from her seat again.

Chuck let go, wincing as he heard the metal object fall to the pavement only to be crushed by the tires behind him.

"Okay, I did it," he said, but he couldn't hide the fact he had hesitated. Even though he knew he had to, knew that those memories weren't real, it was still difficult to let go.

Jill seemed to relax. She pointed to the exit ramp just ahead. "Turn there. After a hundred meters, turn right."

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe," she whispered. Chuck did as he was told. That was all he needed to know.

_

Following her instructions, Chuck drove to a part of the city he never knew existed. An industrial heavy part of L.A., it was filled with warehouses, blacked out windows and heavily reinforced doors. He stopped at a building Jill pointed out, and before the keys were even out of the ignition, a team descended on them.

Wordlessly they carried Jill inside, largely ignoring Chuck. He followed at their heels like a lost puppy dog, anxious to stay with Jill, but as soon as he walked through the steel doors, he realized it would be impossible.

On the outside the building looked as if it were a dilapidated warehouse, but on the inside, Chuck felt like he had walked into an institution.

The white tiles, white-washed walls, and series of locked doors made Chuck feel like he was a strait-jacket away from being committed. The medical team flashed their cards and whisked Jill away down the series of locked doors but Chuck had nothing, and was left out in the cold.

He looked nervously through the window as the stretcher disappeared around the corner.

"Hello, Chuck."

That voice.

Chuck spun around in alarm, never thinking he would see the woman again. "Camille," he said, gulping nervously.

"I'm so sorry you had to find out like this," she said. "But you didn't believe us."

She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder but there was nothing gentle about her touch. Chuck felt his shoulders sag a little under the force of her hand.

"Is she going to be okay?"

Camille smiled but it never reached her eyes. "I told you your life was in danger."

Chuck said nothing but he knew Sarah had intended the bullet of Jill and Jill alone. "Is she going to be okay?" he repeated.

Camille continued to smile. "I'll go check," she said. "Why don't you take a seat?"

Chuck looked behind him at the exit now locked and reinforced, then back at the series of doors all restricted with card access. Did he really have a choice?

_

Chuck sat down to catch his breath. He looked past the long row of locked doors, unsettled by the knowledge that somewhere behind one of them; Jill was fighting for her life.

In a way, he felt like he could finally understand why hospital departments insisted on merging waiting rooms together. The silence, the grief and anxiety, every emotion was magnified when you had no one else's suffering to contend with. The wait was always so much worse when you were alone.

Chuck didn't know why, but his thoughts drifted to a time in the past.

.

It was a Monday morning. Chuck was in a hurry, disorganized and disheveled as usual. He couldn't remember, but he might have been late for a meeting. Sarah was already at the kitchen table, dressed for work, not a strand of hair out of place. The morning paper was spread out in front of her.

The moment struck him as strange, not because Sarah usually joined him in the morning mayhem, but because she wasn't drinking her morning coffee. Because she was sitting down with her back to him. Because she was reading the paper instead of helping him readjust his tie.

So he'd approached her; asked the obvious.

Nothing. Why would you think something's wrong?

I don't know. Because of the way she brushed her hands across her cheeks, the way she closed the paper and threw it in the recycling bin and refused to look at him.

Sarah. She'd run to the bathroom to fix her make-up when he leaned down and fished out the paper, opened it to the page she'd been reading. An accident claiming five lives. The photos filled the bottom row, no one that he recognized.

Sarah? He held up the page. Did you know them?

Her bottom lip trembles, and Chuck wishes she wouldn't try so hard to bottle her feelings inside. He wants to tell her that she doesn't have to, not from him.

Sarah doesn't say anything, but she buries herself into his chest. He holds her as she sobs, it's all he can do and he knows it's all she needs.

They go to the funeral a few days later and sit in the back row. Sarah doesn't say anything, doesn't acknowledge the grieving family. She just squeezes his hand and sits stoically, staring straight ahead. In the car she breaks down, and by the time they get back to the apartment, he can't make out a word she's saying. He takes the day off and they lie in bed together, buried under the sheets, the only place she feels safe.

She won't say who they were. Doesn't want to talk about it.

And that's how Chuck knows they were from that other life. He wonders if he knew them too; wonders if it's callus not to mourn for a friend you never knew.

Thank you, Chuck. He holds her so she doesn't have to cling onto him. So she knows that he's not going anywhere.

I needed the day off anyway. He doesn't know why he says what he says when they both know it's for her sake.

Not that. Chuck can't bear to see the sadness in her eyes, but he does it anyway, because even when she's crying she's beautiful. For saving me.

Chuck almost asks what she means, but he knows the past is a painful place for her, and he can't stand to be the cause of any more tears. And maybe it's his own fault that he kisses her on the temple and hugs her close instead of digging deeper.

.

Maybe it's his own fault he was lied to.

Now he was left to wonder how much of it was real. Had she really known those people? Did she mean any of what she said to him?

The sound of heels stabbing the ground bursts Chuck's bubble and he's thrown hastily back into reality.

Camille stood over him with a satisfied smile. "Jill's in surgery right now, but things look good."

Chuck swallowed slowly. "She's going to be okay? When can I see her?"

Camille's eyes were warm for once but the smile on her lips felt oddly sinister.

"Soon. You can see her as soon as they're done."

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