A/N: It's back! For the two of you (and David) still reading it. Hahaha!
Disclaimer: I don't own CHUCK or its characters.
Last time: The brave travelers have been discovered and approached by a band of men outfitted suspiciously like patrolmen. Read on to find out what happens next!
Chuck counted eight.
The man who'd forced Casey to stop their party's forward momentum was bare-faced, his dark eyes clear and mean. As he pushed his hat back a bit on his head, Chuck saw he was as bald as a melon as well. Every man sat upon horseback, some with the typical masks patrols had worn in Los Angeles, their long coats draping down their horses' flanks. Others wore hats—bowlers, hats with wide brims, top hats—but no masks. But they all wore the patrol insignia. And Chuck had to wonder how many of them had killed an innocent, only to hide behind that insignia, falsely claiming they'd done it to protect their town, their society, or themselves. How many of them had murdered someone simply because they broke a law? Treating them as animals, as scum, instead of as human beings who deserve to live in spite of their petty crimes?
He had a sick feeling in the pit of his gut.
There were too many.
If this went south, they would be picked off as easily as if these bastards were shooting fish in a barrel.
They were outnumbered and outgunned.
And he felt a helplessness settle in him, especially knowing Sarah hadn't trusted him enough to give him a gun. It still stung. Badly.
"Well, what do we have here?" the apparent leader of the patrol clan exclaimed, a bit of a smirk on his face. He turned his head and spit onto the ground, right near where Domino's front hoof was. It filled Chuck with fury. Domino shifted her feet, looking down as if in disgust, and she threw her head back a bit, huffing through her snout.
"If you're looking to trade, good sirs, I'm not sure how much we have that might interest you. We're poor and—" Devon started, but the leader held up a palm, stopping the blonde doctor in the middle of his sentence.
"Ain't here to trade. I want to know what you're doin' out here."
"Ah. And on whose authority are you asking? We haven't seen anyone out here for days, no other travelers, no law even. Barely any civilization out here save for snakes, coyotes, and cactus." Devon turned to exchange looks with both Casey and Chuck.
"We are the law out here," the patrolman said. "The law is askin' jes' wut yer doin' in these parts." Before Devon could answer, he continued. "See, there's been a bit of…unrest to the west of 'ere." He gestured with a gloved hand back the way they'd come from. "Y'all know anythin' 'bout that?"
Devon frowned thoughtfully. "No, hadn't heard of anything. Like I said, we don't have any money. Cost of living got to be too much near the coast, more than even the three of us working hands could manage. We aren't proud of it, but it is what it is. We have family east of here. And I know there's work. So we're headin' out."
"What's yer name?"
"Harris. Brett Harris." Chuck gave his brother-in-law a subtle, sideways look. The patrol nodded his head at Chuck in question. "That's my brother-in-law, Roy Jessop. And sitting up there's Roy's uncle. By marriage. Michael O'Brien."
Chuck blinked.
"Younger uncle," Casey piped up, sending Devon half of a glare.
Unnecessary.
The leader took his time eyeing each of the three men before him, then he exchanged a look with his patrolmen on either side of him. "On account of it's illegal for y'all to be out 'ere during a time of unrest…"
"What?" Chuck couldn't help asking.
Illegal?
That wasn't an actual law. He was lying right through his teeth.
"…We're givin' y'all two options," the clan leader said, ignoring Chuck completely. "First option's we confiscate yer goods. Fer the sake o' this great empire," he said through a hungry grin. "Could use a nice horse like'is pretty'n yer sittin' on."
If the toymaker thought for even a moment that these patrolmen would be legitimate, by-the-book law enforcement officers instead of outright criminals, he didn't think that anymore.
"And the second option?" Casey asked, and Chuck spotted a twitch in his cheek as he looked down at them from his seat at the front of the wagon.
This would come down to blows at best, and gunfire most likely.
"Second option is we kill e'ry last one o' ya. Fer breakin' the law, like. So really, it's yer choice." The patrols snickered amongst themselves. A chill went down his spine. Chuck had seen evil before. He knew what it looked like. He could recognize it now. And he saw enough of it in the yellow-tinged whites of the leader's eyes to know that option one and two were going to go hand in hand no matter what Devon's response was.
"Wut's in that wagon?" the man beside the leader asked, nodding his chin. "I think maybe I'd like ta take a look." He swung himself off of his horse.
"No, don't," Devon rushed out as the patrolman strutted a little closer to the wagon.
"Now wut, I wonder, is in 'at wagon that purdy boy doesn't want us seein', Thompson?" the leader asked. "Whaddya think? I'm takin' bets, gents…"
The smirks on the faces Chuck could see widened.
"My wife," Devon said. "She's resting in the wagon. She's with child."
"A woman, hey?" Chuck felt his hand clench into a fist at the tone in the leader's voice. He glanced at Chuck. "You, Toothpick. Get 'er out o' the wagon."
"She hasn't been feeling well. I don't—" A gun was thrust in Devon's face and cocked, so he swallowed the rest of his sentence.
Chuck felt a heat bristling at the back of his neck. Rage built in his chest as he slowly made his way to the flap at the back of the wagon. "Hurry up!" A fist slammed into his upper back and he staggered against the wagon bed, catching himself on it. And he reached up to pull back the flap. He swept his gaze around the interior of the wagon…
And he only saw Ellie.
She flicked her worried gaze up over his head and to the side meaningfully as he gave her a confused look.
"Don't look."
The quiet whisper was to his right side, above him, and he let his gaze slide along the bed of the wagon until he saw Sarah's boot a few inches away from his elbow. He wasn't sure exactly what she was doing kneeling off to the side of the entrance into their wagon instead of sitting with Ellie. And he wracked his brain to try to figure out what she was playing at.
He reached out for Ellie and she nodded, fixing the bundle under her dress and taking his hand so that he could help her down.
The leader whistled as Chuck grabbed his sister by her waist and hoisted her down, pulling her into view.
"Well, she's a purdy one, ain't she?" There were murmurs of agreement as Ellie turned a glare on them. "Feisty, too, hey?" They laughed. "Wut fun…"
Apparently his sister wasn't willing to play the part of the wilting flower to appease the patrolmen, and Chuck wasn't going to begrudge her that. He thought he might sell his entire business to see his sister slam her fist into every single one of their faces.
Ellie held her back and winced in faux pregnancy pain as Chuck had her step behind him, blocking her from the patrols protectively.
"S'a good thing you stumbled onta a couple o' gentlemen, folks," one of the men wearing masks piped up, hopping off of his horse and strutting closer to the wagon. Chuck noticed the rifle slung over his shoulders, resting against his back. The man reached up with gloved hands to move the goggles he wore up to his forehead, revealing his eyes over his mask. "We won't harm a hair on 'er head, don't worry. Especially bein' that she's carryin'." He sauntered to the wagon, then. "But we will confiscate whatever else ya got in 'ere. It's the law."
He shrugged, then grabbed onto the bed of the wagon to hop inside. Chuck knew that they were all aware none of this was the "law", that if there even were laws at this point, the patrolmen gave themselves the power not to have to follow them.
Chuck froze as the bastard hoisted himself into the wagon. And suddenly, he knew what Sarah'd been doing, kneeling in the corner like that instead of sitting with Ellie. As if she'd known, as if she was well-versed in the ways men like this operated.
He heard the beginnings of a scuffle and he spun back to the others, raising his voice.
"So, you folks from up North? Nevada? Any towns in that direction? We're unfamiliar with the terrain ahead of us and could use advice on a place to stop for the night," he said, talking over whatever sounds might come from the wagon as Sarah dispensed with the man who'd crawled into her hiding spot. "We don't mind going North if we have to."
The leader ignored Chuck, turning his head toward the wagon. There was nothing but silence inside. A still silence. So silent, Chuck could almost hear the sun's rays baking the dirt under his boots.
"What're we lookin' at, Jeremiah?" he raised his own voice to ask the man who'd crawled into the wagon, the man Chuck knew wouldn't respond. He couldn't respond.
There was no answer, just as he expected.
"Anythin' worth takin'?" the leader called out in the eerie silence. He glanced up at Devon. "Better hope you got somethin' valuable in there…otherwise we'll have to take somethin' else wut's valuable."
Chuck had a sickening feeling he wasn't talking about inanimate objects, or even one of the horses. And frankly, he would die before he would let these brutes lay a finger on Domino, either. Or any of the horses.
"The hell he even doin' in there? Wut he do, fall asleep?"
The leader made to follow and marched up to the wagon, and seemingly without even an ounce of care, he pulled back the flap and jumped up and in. The scuffle sounded again and Chuck pretended to have a coughing fit.
It drew everyone's attention and he gestured towards the water canteen hanging from the saddle pack on Domino's flank. Devon snagged it and tossed it to him. "Thank you," he rasped, taking a drink and handing it back as Ellie gave him a few weak pats on the back.
The eerie silence pervaded then and the man the leader had called Thompson swung off of his horse then. "Cap'n? Find anythin' good?" he called out.
And when there was no answer again, he drew his pistol from the holster at his hip.
"The hell's goin' on? Cap?" The pistol swung up to point at Devon and Chuck felt Ellie grab his arm in a vice grip. "What're you playin' at? Cap'n!" he called out again towards the wagon.
"W-We don't want any trouble," Devon tried, holding his hands up in surrender. "We're just trying to start a new life, fresh. Get a plot of land and work it, live off it. That's all."
"Cap'n! Jeremiah! Why aren't they answerin'?" Thompson demanded.
"I d-don't know," Devon stammered.
"You folks doin' somethin' sideways, you die. You get me?" He raised his voice and shook his gun at Devon. "I SAID YOU GET ME?!"
"I get you!" the doctor exclaimed, fear in his voice.
"Bartlett, get on in that wagon and see what's goin' on wit' the cap 'n Jeremiah," he ordered one of the other men in masks. The other man—Bartlett—turned slowly and stared at the man who'd seemingly crowned himself as captain of the band without the actual leader around to stop him. "Y'hear wut I said?" Thompson raised his voice again.
Bartlett grumbled and hopped down to walk over to the wagon.
Inside awaited a prize. Though it wouldn't be as much of a prize for him, Chuck thought, inwardly wincing as he watched the man crawl in.
"Hey—glurgrrrggghhhh…"
His legs went limp, his body slowly being dragged all the way inside of the wagon, like a rag doll until he disappeared inside. Chuck had heard a wet spattering sound which made him think there was at least one dead body inside of that wagon with Sarah. Bartlett was definitely a goner.
Chuck turned in the tense silence and gave them all an awkward look because they'd also definitely seen that. "So…Nevada… Any advice, gents?"
"Wut the f—!"
The first shot came from Casey who swung his rifle from his back and into his hands so fast Chuck hadn't even caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. A patrolman was hit in the shoulder by Casey's bullet and knocked right out of the saddle, landing hard on the dirt, unmoving.
Chuck spun, grabbed his sister, and shoved her behind the wagon to take cover.
A hand clamped down on his shoulder before he could follow and he jerked his elbow back, slamming it into their face. As he turned, he found the barrel of a pistol pointed right between his eyes.
But before the patrolman could pull the trigger, there was a flash of something to the side of his vision. The butt of a rifle cracked hard into the side of the patrol's face and he crumbled as Sarah landed gracefully on her feet from where she'd leapt out of the back of the wagon. And just like that, she swiveled on her heels, brought the rifle up, and shot one of the still mounted patrols taking aim at Devon who wasn't on Domino anymore. But where was she? Maybe Devon'd been dragged off of Domino since he was lying on the ground now, defenseless, his hands up.
Another patrol now stood over his prone body, Devon's rifle too far away for him to reach without getting a bullet to the head.
Chuck heard his sister's anguished scream, and there was a tickle at the back of his head, and an intense tingle went through him, followed by a sharp pain, and it was gone. And instead, he felt adrenaline and strength fill him to the brim.
Everything fell away except for the patrol standing over his brother, his family, ready to kill him. And then the patrol wasn't standing over Dr. Woodcomb anymore, because Chuck had his fist around his throat and was throwing him down onto the ground, delivering a brutal stomp right to his face.
Chuck found the barrel of a rifle jabbing him in the shoulder and without looking, he reached up to snatch the barrel, shoving at it and twisting at the same time. The rifle fell to the ground but Chuck paid it no mind, charging at the unarmed patrolman and bringing his fist across his face.
Another gunshot went off behind him, but he ignored it, kicking the pistol out of the next foe's hands and grabbing him by the back of his head, knocking his hat off, before slamming the patrolman face first into the dirt, hard. Blood stained the ground, but he kept slamming, over, and over, and over…and over…
"Chuck! Hey! Chuck, stop!"
Morgan's metallic body with the insides torn out, scattered all over the wood floors of the Buy More workshop, his head dented and opened, cogs spilling out…
He saw another patrol looking around, taking in his surroundings, the gun in his hand lowered to his side, the fear and panic in his unmasked face as he tried to run to his horse.
Chuck shrugged off the hands trying to hold onto his arm and he chased after the bastard, grabbing him by the back of his coat, yanking him into his embrace. He rounded the man's neck with his arm and squeezed. He squeezed hard, ignoring the gurgling, the choked begging for him to stop.
The fingers grappling ineffectively at the bulging muscles of his arm as he squeezed even tighter.
Chuck could feel himself shaking, he could feel the wetness on his cheeks, he could see bloody rage in his eyes, a bright red screen across his vision. Permeating his soul.
A cool hand stroked over his face then. "Chuck, stop. Stop. Let go. He's unconscious. Let go. Chuck! Look at me!"
He looked up into icy blue eyes, still the most beautiful face he'd ever seen in his entire life. The fear in that face was what finally made him loosen his grip, and the man slumped out of his arms into the dirt.
"That's it… That's it, Chuck. It's all right. It's over." She cupped his face, pushing his hair back from his forehead.
Chuck blinked, and the pain hit him anew.
His vision went black, and there was nothing else.
}o{
Sarah felt the cotton of Ellie's sleeve slip from her grasp as the other woman broke into a run, letting out an unholy war scream, the knife she'd given her raised high above her head.
Devon turned his gaze from Chuck, who'd just saved his life, to his wife who was seemingly trying to avenge him in spite of him still being alive. Still splayed on the ground, his eyes wide, Devon caught Sarah's gaze as she tried to spring after Ellie to keep her from doing something that might get her killed.
But there was no way for her to catch up now, so she slid to a halt and shouldered her own rifle, ready to shoot the mounted patrolman as he turned and tried to shoot the charging woman, the bundle she'd shoved under her dress falling out and trailing behind her as she sprang.
"Ellie, n—"
The knife came down and sank into the man's thigh. He let out an anguished yowl, bringing his gun up even as he tilted to the side, but Ellie had already pulled the knife back out again and reached under the horse to slice at the bearings on the saddle.
Frightened, the horse jumped back, and as Ellie slapped it right on its backside, it sprinted away. His foot caught in the stirrup, the patrolman lurched to the side, the saddle swinging under the horse, and he hit the ground with a crunch, screaming as the horse dragged him along the desert ground by his injured leg.
Sarah blinked at the other woman. But she didn't have time to be shocked or impressed, because she heard Casey curse. Spinning with her gun raised, thinking the bounty hunter was in trouble, she saw that he was just fine, save some bruises, except that he was looking down at Chuck.
Oh God.
He'd flashed. She recognized it, she remembered it well, the hotel hallway in San Diego and again amongst the thick trees in Mexico. The craze, the fury…and she wondered if vengeance wasn't also a part of it. "Chuck!" she tried as Casey reached him first, trying to grab him and pull him away from the unconscious patrolman, face beaten and bloodied.
He stopped thankfully, but then he set his sights on the last man standing.
The terror in the patrol's weaselly features was something she recognized as well. And she didn't want to know what he'd seen in Chuck's face when he looked into it.
She sprang after him as he went for the other man.
Chuck caught up to him before he could get onto his horse to make a break for it, and before anybody could do anything about it, Chuck was choking the life out of him with a vicious precision that sent a chill down Sarah's spine.
He slowly sank to his knees as the other man lost unconsciousness, but he only tightened his grip. Sarah knew he might lash out at her, that he wasn't himself, that the Intersect was doing something to his brain, to his body. And she knew he now had the strength to snap this man's neck. She didn't want that on his conscience, it would drive him mad, so she approached him anyway, knowing she might be in danger too.
Putting her hand on his face, gently touching his jaw, she knelt in front of him. "Chuck…" He ignored her, so she put her rifle down in the dirt behind her and cupped his face in both hands, stroking, trying to ease him out of it. "Chuck, stop. Stop. Let go. He's unconscious. Let go. Chuck! Look at me!" she ended with a yell, and his eyes snapped up to hers, the brown swirling with black instead of the gold. Dark clouds swam amongst the brown and gold flecks. And then he blinked, and the black had left, leaving just the brown and gold.
His arm loosened, and the patrolman fell away, unconscious. Hopefully not dead.
"That's it… That's it, Chuck," she breathed, relief flooding her. "It's all right. It's over."
Before she could assure him that everyone was all right, that he was all right, she watched as his face crumbled in pain, and just like that, he slumped. She had to scramble to keep him from falling backwards, clutching onto his arms and pulling him in against her.
"Chuck? Hey…" She cradled him against her chest, sitting in the dirt, easing his upper half into her lap and smoothing his curls back from his forehead. "Shit!" she snapped. She looked up at Casey. "It happened again."
"Yeah, I saw," he grumbled.
"Chuck?!"
Ellie dove down in front of them, yanking the rest of the makeshift pregnancy out from under her dress and throwing it away carelessly, her green eyes wracked with fear.
"It's all right. He's fine," Sarah reassured, tightening her grip on the toymaker. "This…happens sometimes. The Intersect." She didn't know if he was fine. She didn't know how often this might happen, what triggered it, what it did to his brain when it happened, how many times he could do this without it eventually doing lasting damage…
Ellie's fingers had blood on them as she reached out, hand shaking, to lay it on Chuck's shoulder. "What is this?"
"I-I don't know. He…He flashes. Sometimes it's government secrets, information they put into the Intersect. And sometimes…sometimes what you just saw happens."
"He tried to…"
"I know."
"That isn't him."
"I know," Sarah said a bit louder, worry taking precedence in her breast as she smoothed a hand through his hair again. "Chuck, wake up… It's over. Come on."
But he didn't. He just stayed there with his face against her blouse, his cheeks pale and slack.
"What's happening to him?" Ellie asked, a shiver in her voice.
"I don't know," Sarah said honestly. She turned to look at Devon who'd gotten up from the ground, dirt up and down his pants and coat, his hat still upended against a weed a few feet behind him, and he gaped down at them, disbelief in his handsome face. "Devon, can you help us get him into the wagon where he can rest?"
"Devon!" Ellie snapped as she and Sarah worked to get Chuck up from the ground themselves. Devon jumped, shaking himself, and he wordlessly rushed to take the brunt of Chuck's weight as Sarah and Ellie took their places at each of his feet.
They carefully got him into the wagon and Ellie knelt beside him, bunching up a blanket and shoving it under his head. "I'll take care of him," she said, and that was when Sarah saw her green eyes latch onto the dead bodies she'd ignored heretofore in light of her concern over her brother. When they swept up to Sarah, there wasn't accusation or disgust or terror, but Sarah couldn't read them. She couldn't read what the other woman was thinking.
Sarah felt a deep sense of self-disgust course through her system as she took her hands off of Chuck as if her hands might burn him, shifting back from the toymaker and his sister. She wordlessly moved to get rid of the three men she'd murdered, another three faces to add to the litany of faces that were there every time she fell asleep.
She could explain it away, sure. She'd tried to hit the first one in the head hard enough to merely knock him unconscious but it hadn't worked, so she'd had to use one of her knives. She knew where the organs were and she'd done it quick, no suffering. But… it wouldn't be true. She'd killed each one of them, thinking about the potential victims of each of these men in the future if she allowed them to live.
Sarah quietly shifted to the end of the wagon bed and grabbed one of her victims by his feet, dragging him out. As the body limply fell into the dirt, Casey was there. She didn't know how much he saw in her face, if that wasn't something he'd notice, if he'd even care if he noticed. But his voice was quiet, albeit gruff, as he said, "I'll get the rest of 'em. Jes' help the doctor dig."
She nodded. "You might want to check for blood spatter on the—"
"I got it, kid." Casey hoisted himself into the wagon, and she numbly moved over to where Devon was already digging. He looked up at her as she approached.
"He gonna be all right?" he asked her. "Chuck. He doesn't look well."
"No, he doesn't, but I think he's going to be fine. He's been fine before. It just…it happens and he loses consciousness for a few minutes, and has a headache when he wakes up. But it goes away." She took the shovel he proffered her, watching as he leaned down to pick up the other one.
"What is it?" he asked. "That Inter-thing?"
Sarah heard a groan nearby and she turned on her heel, walking up to the patrol Chuck had nearly choked the life out of. He was squirming, starting to gain consciousness. She knelt down and pinched him at the back of his spine, knocking him unconscious again.
"Before we dig a grave, we need to make sure we bind the ones that are still alive," she said, swallowing hard. "You think you can help me do that?"
She was careful not to look at Chuck's brother-in-law as he approached. She was surprised when he thrust a rope out in front of her face.
"This gonna do all right?"
"Perfect." She sent him a small smile. "Thank you."
He held down the man's legs as she tied them together, and then moved to his arms as she tied his wrists. It took a few more minutes to do the same with the other unconscious one. The other five patrolmen wouldn't be waking up ever again, and that included their captain. And the last one may or may not be still attached to a galloping horse somewhere a mile or two away.
"What are we doing with these two?" he asked. "And the horses, for that matter."
She shrugged.
"What did you usually do? I mean, before."
Sarah dropped her gaze to the three unconscious patrolmen she'd tied up with Devon's help, hating the way his question stung, even though he absolutely hadn't meant for it to. He wasn't asking with accusation. But it still felt like being stabbed in the side.
Had she always been this ashamed of who she was, what she did, the way she'd lived her life all of these years? Or was this new, something that came about thanks to meeting Chuck Bartowski, a man who was so genuinely good down to the deepest depths of his soul that there were times he seemed like merely a figment of her sweetest imaginations? She wondered if the self-hatred had always been there, hiding in the depths of her heart, she just hadn't had reason to look there before.
"Er, this wasn't something that happened…often."
"Oh." He nodded. "Of course. I apologize…if I…"
"You didn't. It's all right." She sent him as genuine of a smile as she could muster. But as concerned as she was for Chuck's well-being, she didn't go back to the wagon. She wouldn't. She didn't want to look Ellie in the face again just yet.
Casey ambled up then. "They ain't dead?" he asked matter-of-factly.
"No. But this one is close." She nudged the leg of the patrolman whose face Chuck had bashed into the ground about thirteen times before Casey was able to persuade him to stop. The blood was still dripping steadily from the wounds on his face.
"Hmng. That puts a wrinkle in things."
For a moment, she wished she could be more like Casey. He was a killer, he'd seen souls leave plenty of bodies in his time, many of them because of something he'd done to them. And it was just what it was. He wasn't prone to dwelling over it. There was no shame or self-hatred, no self-doubt about his actions. These were bad men, and they got what they'd deserved. And while she saw…she didn't know what…in Ellie's face in that wagon fifteen minutes earlier, causing her to want to crawl underneath the wagon and just stay there forever until she shriveled up from shame, Casey casually dug graves and called still-living patrolmen "a wrinkle in things".
Life would be so much easier if she could be that way about all of this.
Life would also be so much easier if she wasn't drawn to the toymaker with every last bit of her mind, body, and soul.
She wouldn't care so deeply that it hurt this much.
She could just be alone with her demons, the way she'd always been before. And she'd been just fine, thank you.
"We can't take them with us? Turn them in to the authorities at the next town?" Devon asked.
"I'm going to bet they are the authorities at the next town."
They turned to see Ellie approaching, wiping her hand on a handkerchief that was stained with a man's blood. Sarah found herself wondering if the other woman was dwelling on that, or if she was too concerned with Chuck to have had it actually hit her just yet that she'd stabbed a man and sent him on the worst kind of journey into the desert.
"Shit," Devon muttered.
"Is Chuck all right?" Sarah asked her.
Ellie sent her a worried look, shrugging. "Nothing wrong with him outwardly. One of his knuckles split against one of these bastards' faces but it'll heal fast enough. I just don't know what's happening with him on the inside. I-I can't tell what this thing is…doing to him. Not without my books, at least."
"Is he awake?"
She shook her head, crossing her arms. "What is going on? What's that thing Bryce put in his head doing to him? What do you two know about this?"
Casey shrugged as if that was answer enough.
Sarah spoke up. "I don't know. When Bryce sent me to Los Angeles to protect Chuck, he told me the Intersect had government secrets, but he never said anything about this."
Ellie huffed. "You mean how he becomes a vengeful machine who unleashes violence with abandon and a terrifying amount of wrath? And the strength in him… I've never seen my brother like that. Not ever. Not for any reason."
Her husband crossed to her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. She leaned her forehead against his chin and almost seemed to shrink a bit, curling herself up in his arms. "He's gonna be all right, El."
"Nobody has answers, though. Neither of you know. Chuck doesn't know. Who does know?"
Sarah shook her head. "Bryce may know, but if he does, he didn't tell me. I imagine whoever created the Intersect knows, since they had to have put it there. Whether they knew what it would look like in a human being rather than in an automaton, I can't tell you. I can't imagine them testing it on human subjects but perhaps I'm giving them too much credit." She shivered. "It's terrifying to think about what it might be like in a machine, something without even an ounce of humanity, something that doesn't have an empathy switch."
"Met plenty o' people without empathy switches," Casey grunted, gesturing around him at the downed patrols.
"Well, Chuck isn't one of them," Sarah said, looking at him solidly.
"That much is obvious," he said with a snort. "But I think it's safe ta say yer the on-switch with his empathy. Kid only backs off when you tell 'im to when 'e's like'at."
Sarah fought back a blush, ignoring what John Casey was implying completely. "The only way we can really know more is if we talk to someone who is related to the Intersect Project, from the Imperial Bureau of Machinery and Defense, or from the Imperial Espionage League. At the very least, Bryce might have more knowledge, but we have no idea where he is and…I don't think it's a good idea to get anywhere near IBoMaD or the IEL."
"You would say that. Bein' that ya'd fetch a purdy penny in reward money if someone ever turned you inter one o' them agencies, Ice Queen."
She clenched her jaw, deciding to ignore Casey's teasing at the moment. She didn't have the energy for his behavior.
"I don't want them anywhere near my brother," Ellie said, a fierceness in her tone as she stood up a bit straighter. Sarah could hug the woman. She'd been wanting to hug her for a while now. She could see how brittle and overwrought the brunette was, and she felt the same.
But she didn't know how welcome her touch would be, considering the way Ellie's gaze had latched onto those dead men in the wagon, dead men Sarah'd seeped the life out of with her bare hands.
Sighing heavily, Ellie pushed away from her husband gently. "Well, what are we doing then?"
"We keep movin' forward," Casey said. "First, we bury these pieces o' shit." He spat on the ground near them, and Ellie looked at him with a curled lip. It almost sent a spark of light through Sarah to see it. Almost. The nurse was such an anomaly, a complete mystery in a way that was so different from her brother, but similar as well. "These ones wut's still alive? We can bury 'em with their friends if we want."
"Jesus, Casey," Sarah hissed as both Devon and Ellie turned to look at the bounty hunter in disgust. She took it back. She didn't want to be more like him.
She pushed past everyone and went to the unconscious men, leaning down to tug on the bindings. They were strong, strong enough that she imagined only a sharp knife would help them escape. So she rifled through their pockets and emptied every last one of them.
Any remaining weapons, she was now taking into her possession. That's the law, a voice in her head mocked.
"Perhaps we leave them here…?" Ellie tried.
Sarah shook her head as she worked. "If we just leave them, we risk someone else coming this way happening upon them. It's better if they're found far away from here. Where they won't be able to find their way back. Where they won't be able to track us if they survive this desert."
"How do we get them away from here?" the other woman asked her.
"I liked the idea you had earlier, actually," Sarah said, sending the other woman an appreciative look. Ellie raised her eyebrows, and the conwoman thought she detected a hint of a smirk on her face. "We strap them to their horses, put the shoe on the other foot, as it were. Let the horses take them wherever they want."
"God damn it." They all turned to look at Devon as he spun on his heel, looking around. "Horses!" he explained, thrusting his hand out.
Oh.
Oh, no.
Domino.
"Where's Domino?" Sarah asked. God, where had she run off to? They couldn't let her go. She was Chuck's. She was his horse. There was no way she could allow Chuck to lose his best friend and his horse back to back like this.
"Oh God," Ellie said miserably. "The gunfire probably scared her off. Chuck rescued her from a hunter when she was a pony. She hates the sound of guns. Chuck's odd contraptions go off sometimes and the loud bang spooks her every time."
"It's my fault," Devon said, shaking his head. "I didn't watch out for her. She trusted me and—"
"Stop it, Devon. It isn't your fault. We were being shot at. You stayed alive. That was the most important thing." Ellie put a comforting hand on his chest.
"Be that as it may, I was supposed to be responsible for her. I'll go find her."
"No, I will," Ellie said. Before Devon could argue, she sent him a look and rushed out, "I'm Domino's favorite. She always comes to me when I call her. I'll find her. I'm better on horseback than you are, anyway, and you know I am."
Devon winced. "I'm not disputing any of that, but… why don't we both go?"
She huffed. "They need you here to dig. I'll be back with Domino in no time." And she went to one of the horses the patrolmen had rode in on, swinging herself up into the saddle gracefully. God, the way the horse immediately took to her. She wasn't lying. She could see it in the body language.
"Sarah, stay with Chuck. …Please?" She must have seen hesitation in Sarah's face, and Sarah silently cursed how easy it was for both of the Bartowskis to read her. "In case he wakes up while I'm gone? If you can find some cool water to wet a cloth with, put that on his head. Might ease whatever headache it is you say he wakes up with after those…flash things."
"Of course," she said with a thin-lipped smile. "I'll take care of him."
"I know you will."
The sincerity in her tone felt so generous, and Sarah could only stand and watch as Chuck's sister rode off in search of Domino.
"Well, you've got a job. We got ours. Let's get ta sending these two on their way, 'en we kin get back ter diggin'." Casey thumped a worried Devon Woodcomb on the back and they got to work, leaving Sarah to make her way back to the wagon.
}o{
The throbbing was the first thing he was aware of. A throbbing that felt somehow deeper than it simply being in his brain, and yet… what was deeper than that? It felt like a ghost had crawled into his head, nestled itself in his brain, and was sending tentacles of pain out, attacking his nerves that resided in and around his skull. His jaw even hurt. His teeth. His tongue.
But then he was aware of a different sensation, something cool and damp against his neck, then shifting up his jaw, dabbing his cheek, his temple, and finally resting on his overheated forehead. Damp fingers touched him just under his hairline, and then they gently ran through his curls, brushing them back. It was such a comfort that he nearly forgot the throbbing.
And he didn't know why, but his mouth moved, and he heard his voice, even though he didn't think his brain had sent the signal.
"Sarah…"
He still hadn't opened his eyes, even though he could feel a lack of direct sunlight. There was some sort of dim light, flickering even through his eyelids, but it didn't feel dangerous or intense.
So he very slowly blinked, eyeing the blurry flame of a candle inside of a lamp, right across from him, shadows dancing against the tarp behind it.
"S—?"
"It's all right," he heard a soft whisper in the other direction from where he was looking. And the damp fingers combed through his hair even more gently, making him moan quietly. "I'm here."
The cool wetness of what he now understood to be a damp cloth was dabbed on his forehead, down his temple, against his cheek, and finally against his neck again. He shivered, even as the cool dampness felt incredible against his skin.
"Are you cold?" she asked. But as she tried to pull the cloth away, he reached up and grabbed her wrist, turning his head to look up at her finally. Her blue eyes widened in the candlelight, her lips parting.
"It feels… It's a relief. Please…don't stop."
Sarah nodded, her features guarded again, even though there was some affection, almost a polite affection, mixed with worry. Chuck wasn't sure what to make of that. "All right…" She kept stroking it over his face and he moaned again, his eyes fluttering before they shut again. "How are you feeling?"
"Horrible," he muttered honestly. "I won't even try to sugarcoat it. This feels horrible. I hurt in places I didn't even know I had."
She didn't speak for long enough that he blinked his eyes open again and looked up at her through eyelashes that somehow also managed to hurt. He didn't understand it. This was truly terrible.
Sarah nibbled on her bottom lip a bit and sighed, running her hand through his hair again. He saw now that she had blood on her shirt, on the shoulder and a bit on the sleeve. There was a smear of dirt and blood mixed on the collar of the shirt, and a small bruise on her jaw he thought, though that might just be the low light and shadows playing tricks on his still adjusting eyes.
"Where am I, Sarah? Where are we? What-What happened? How…am I here now?"
She stared at him silently, and then she frowned, a deep frown. "You…don't remember?"
He was struck suddenly with abject anger. Perhaps even fury. "I don't—I-I think I flashed and then there was nothing. I don't think I—" He stilled, his body going rigid. He could feel the size and weight of a man's head gripped in his palm, his fist clawed around thinning hair. He was slamming the man's face into the dirt, into the hard ground, over and over and over…relentless. Murderous.
A chill wracked his body and he hardened, looking up at her. He gently moved her hand from his face. He couldn't ask the question seriously if she was touching him. Her touch was too…much for him to handle right now while he asked this question…
"Did I…kill him?" he asked, a lump in his throat, his voice dry and rasping. He could feel his heart thudding dangerously in his chest. "Oh…Oh Sarah. God, Sarah…" He held onto her fingers in his tight grip and brought it down to his chest, holding on for dear life, fear surging through his body like the worst kind of adrenaline as he tried to sit up.
But Sarah was there, one hand on his chest, the other clutching his shoulder. "No, no. Stay there. Stay. You didn't kill anybody. Casey and I did. But you didn't, Chuck."
His hands shook as he saw it playing back in his mind over and over and over. He shook almost violently as she grabbed onto him and held him steady, and he realized he wasn't sure if he believed her. She could easily be trying to protect him, to shield him from the reality of what he'd done.
Sarah learned down close to him, almost as if she read his mind. "You didn't take anyone's life today, Chuck. I wouldn't lie to you about that."
His shaking subsided just slightly as he reached up to tug at the blood smear on her blouse. More faces she'd be seeing as she fell asleep at night, haunting her. He shivered again and she pulled a blanket he hadn't noticed before even further up his body. "You see, Sarah…I didn't need a gun. The Intersect made me…into the weapon."
"You aren't a weapon," she said determinedly. "You're a man with a…potential weapon inside of you. You're a good man."
A spike of pain went through his head and he winced, pulling her hand up against his face with his fingers curled around hers. He flattened her palm against the side of his face specifically, wrapping his own hand over hers, and he just held her cool fingers to his skin, sighing in utter relief. And then a horrifying thought occurred to him. "Did Ellie and Devon see it? Did they see me do this?" He lifted his hands and realized they were dotted with congealed blood. The pain in his knuckles told him at least some of it was his, but he had a sickening feeling in his gut that most of it was someone else's. "Did they see how badly I wanted to kill him?" His arm around the throat of the other man, squeezing, squeezing…squeezing. "The vengeance for Morg-Morgan...flowing through me? Like a…demon."
He caught her changing the subject, actively attempting to push him off of the subject, and clearly not answering his question.
"Do you need water? I can get you water."
Chuck just nodded, knowing he didn't have the strength to out-stubborn her at the moment.
She reached over him, snagging a canteen he hadn't seen before, and unscrewing the top. She carefully slipped a strong hand under his upper back and hoisted him up from whatever it was that he was lying on, just enough for him to drink safely enough without choking on it. She tilted the canteen and he felt the cool bliss of the liquid sliding down his dry throat. That alone made the throbbing in his head dull just so. "More?" she asked, and he nodded. She smiled just a little and let him have more.
And when he nodded, she pulled the canteen away, eased him back to lie down again, and screwed the lid onto the canteen, setting it off to the side. "Better?"
He nodded again.
"Do they hate me? Does everybody hate me? Ellie's going to kill me if I kill somebody." He could hear his own voice, the way he was almost whimpering, breathless. But he was so out of sorts, in pain, and frankly, so scared. "I don't want this to keep happening, Sarah. It can't keep happening. I still can't control it."
"Per-Perhaps it'll come with time. Learning how to control it, to flash when you want to, rather than having it come on, er, suddenly. When you're not expecting it. It might just come with…experience."
He huffed. "Drawing straight lines comes with experience," he groused. "This? I don't think I'll ever be experienced enough in this—Whatever this is. Torture? We'll call it torture."
Chuck rolled his shoulders a bit, as best he could while lying down, and he winced.
"Chuck, I'm sorry."
He looked up at her, at the regret in her face, and the worry. So much worry. He shrugged. "I'll find ways to…deal with this better when it happens. So that it won't feel as bad. It'll be all right, I'm sure."
Sarah shook her head. "No, not that." She tilted her head, dabbing his face with the cloth again. "Well, that too. But I meant… Earlier. In here. With the gun, with not wanting to let you have a weapon. Protection. It wasn't right. I-I suppose I mean that I feel those things I said, about not wanting you to know the…guilt I've had to deal with for so long. I meant all of it. But…I have no right to strip from you the opportunity to defend yourself. That was…foolishness. I apologize."
Chuck reached up to take her free hand from where it rested lightly on his shoulder, and he threaded his fingers with hers, smiling a little. "Apology accepted. But when this headache goes away, I demand to be shown how to do the thing you did when you leapt out of the wagon." She smirked down at him, shaking her head with a sly look.
He took a deep breath and squeezed her hand, finally taking in his surroundings. "Where are we?"
"We're on our way again," she said quietly, and only then did he realize there was movement beneath him. "Heading east."
Chuck furrowed his brow. "East. Has Casey revealed our destination yet?"
"Not as of yet, no. Though a bit longer sitting in that seat beside your sister and he may crumble yet. She's very persuasive."
"She is."
"And brave. Though without as much of the foolish rashness you bring along with your bravery." Sarah stroked the backs of her fingers down his face. It would've sounded like chastisement if anyone had heard her comment. But there was softness in her beautiful features, awe in her blue eyes, a warmth, affection even. And some...admiration? Though that was probably just wishful thinking. "You know, she rode off into the desert to find Domino when the poor girl ran away during the gunfire?"
Chuck immediately made to sit up, fear in his chest. "Domino? Is she lost? God, she didn't—"
"Ellie found her," Sarah said quickly, a reassuring hand on his chest, pushing him back down as he winced at the red-hot pain scorching his skull. "She found her and brought her back with nary a scratch on her. Don't worry."
"Ellie's safe?" Chuck asked, his limbs tingling with fear.
"Safe and sound, sitting up in the seat with Casey. And Devon's back on Domino. He isn't letting her get away again."
Nodding, Chuck let Sarah gently ease him back to lie down against the makeshift pillow, her hand stroking his hair comfortingly. He shut his eyes tight and sucked in a deep breath through pursed lips, trying to just deal with the pain. Maybe there was some way to just get past it. Focus his mind and body elsewhere. But it seemed like the only thing he could focus on was the hand still resting on his head, her fingers buried in his hair, fingertips cool against his scalp.
His best friend was in pieces, cogs and gears and hunks of metal piled in a trunk somewhere in this wagon. His shop was ransacked, ruined, and with it, his livelihood. He didn't even know what his home must look like. Surely the patrols had discovered Eleanor Woodcomb's home address. And they'd probably razed it to the ground.
After seeing the hatred and evil in the eyes of the patrolmen who'd come upon their wagon what had to be hours earlier now, Chuck knew that was the sort of thing they were capable of. All of Los Angeles must be burning. Raging with fire.
They'd nearly been killed by a roving band of patrols, Casey and Sarah had more blood on their hands—how much, he didn't know as he lay here in the wagon, everything from earlier still foggy—and he had blood on his hands too, though in a more literal sense rather than figurative. Domino had apparently almost been lost to the desert.
And he had to wonder if he would ever be safe again, if any of them would ever be safe again.
No matter where they ran to, someone would find them. Eventually.
This so-called Inquisitor must have legions of followers by now, followers who'd sacrifice themselves for the cause, whatever that cause was. Bryce had come across them on the other side of the world, and then they'd attacked the march in Los Angeles. They were everywhere.
And when they figured out the Intersect existed, and discovered that he was the one who harbored the thing in his brain, he wouldn't have anywhere left to hide. And he didn't think even Sarah Walker would be able to keep him safe then.
She was incredible, but she was human, which meant she wasn't indestructible.
For a pitiful moment, he found himself wondering if they shouldn't just leave him off somewhere with his things, and the trunk with Morgan in it, and run away, far away from him. Leave him to his fate, a fate they could all see coming even though nobody was saying it out loud. Who would get to him first? The Inquisitor? Or the government?
He caught himself drowning in the prospect of just disappearing some night, taking away the burden from them, allowing them all to move on with their lives, keeping them out of the danger they were surely in while they traveled with him, protected him.
Chuck knew it for what it was, though. Self-pity.
The toymaker was only human, after all. He blinked his eyes open again and looked up at Sarah. She was staring off to the side, her features plagued with sadness, and the flickering light from the lamp played in her blue eyes. He was struck again by just how beautiful she was.
And then he spoke without even realizing he was doing it. The words just came in a soft, quiet stream.
"Why is it always you?"
She blinked and glanced down at him, her brow furrowed in question. "What?"
They must have rolled over some kind of bump or plant or something because the wagon jerked to the side a bit, surprising them both, and Sarah smacked her hands down onto his torso, clinging tight. He thought it was a gesture both to hold onto something just in case and to protect him. She realized it suddenly and let go of him, but she did it slowly, sitting back and folding her hands in her lap.
Chuck continued, trying not to feel bereft at the loss of physical contact. "Whenever I flash like this, when I'm triggered by whatever it is that triggers this, and I go into a-a frenzy, losing myself, the rage and the need for violence…the moment I come out of it, when I come to, when it fades and I'm…m-myself again… Sarah, it's always you. You're always there. It's never anyone else. I blink my eyes open, and through the sheer curtain of utter pain, it's always your face I see. Why?"
"I've always been there when you flash like that." She shrugged, nibbling on her bottom lip, crossing her arms over her chest.
"No, Casey's…tried to stop it, Sarah. I can't stop it. I'm…gone…whenever that happens. Where, I don't know, but it isn't me in this body anymore. It's…something else. Something that's a part of the Intersect." He shook his head and regretted it, a stab of pain shooting from the very tip of his skull down his neck, like somebody had driven a stake down into him from the top of his head. Wincing, he willed it away. "I think you're the only one who can…remind me of who I am. Why is that? Why is it only your voice? Your touch?"
Sarah took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I don't know, Chuck. Maybe I'm just the only one who's tried."
"No. Casey did. I just moved to the next patrolmen and nearly choked the life out of him. You-You pulled me back, though. You took my face and you spoke to me. And I felt myself again. It…It muzzled the Intersect and I was able to get control, wrestle it back." He gaped up at her.
She rubbed one arm and glanced at the open flap in the tarp. "I…don't know, Chuck."
He wondered if she did know.
He had a pretty good idea, now that he realized what he'd just said was true. It was always Sarah who broke him out of it, who brought him back. Because she'd become the one thing on this ungodly, twisted planet that gave him a sense of both comfort and calm, while also stealing his comfort and calm in other moments. There were stolen instances when he wasn't sure she knew he was watching, when she looked at him with a softness and warmth that made him feel like he could accomplish literally everything.
His deep and endless feelings for her were why she was the one who was able to bring him back. She was his tether to himself, to this world he called home. More so than any other person.
Whether or not that tether could ever be broken, Chuck was afraid to think too hard on it. Because someday, this might end. All of it. And she would leave; perhaps she'd say goodbye first, or she would leave in the dark of night, sticking to the shadows she was so used to.
The tether would still be there when she finally left, but it would be mangled, stretched, like the elastic in a too-old pair of socks. He knew he should pull away, save himself, guard his heart.
Instead, he turned his head away from her, shut his eyes against the ache in his head, and reached towards her, feeling her fingers wrap around his, an eagerness and gentleness both to the way she squeezed his hand, holding tight.
Powers above help him, but the tether was strong. It was so strong.
A/N: Let me just say, I made myself SWOON when I had Ellie say those words: "I know you will" when Sarah says she'll take care of Chuck. Ooooooooof I'm a sucker for that friendship.
And that tether? Well there's plenty more where that came from. Please review if you're able.
Thanks for reading!
-SC