A/N: So by my count it's been two weeks since I updated. Longer than usual, but not that bad – I have a good excuse though. I was working at my uncle's moisture farm (just for some extra cash, you know with the economy and all...), when he bought these two droids from some Jawas. Anyway, so one of them runs off looking for "Obi-Wan" Kenobi and I go after it... Then the next thing I know, I'm on the freaking DEATH STAR and I have all these stormtroopers shooting at me! But for supposedly trained soldiers, they really can't hit anything for shit. It was all a little blurry after that...

Okay so that may be exaggerating a little. Thank esardi for pushing me into finally writing it. And thank Dana, for getting this back to me so fast. Seriously, she's awesome.

Chapter 9

The Things We All Do

16th October 2007

Secret Ring Facility

Mojave Desert, San Bernardino County CA

13:22 PST

"I don't think I can do this, Bryce. What if something happens? What if something goes wrong?"

"You're gonna have help. This will make sure of that."

Like any good friend would, Bryce had been true to his word. But that was back then. Before. This was now, where everything was real.

That "help", which over the past few months had transformed him into a field agent, was now all but buried. It didn't look like it was going to surface any time soon, either. His few meagre weeks of training had hardly been enough to prepare him for what was to come, for the emotional weight of everything that had happened, everything that he'd done. Busgang, now Sarah and, of course, Perry; it had just been too much. Bryce couldn't even help him now. Not any more.

The heart-stopping reality for Chuck was that he was truly on his own.

It had been maybe thirty seconds since Cooper had descended back into the basement, back towards Sarah, leaving him alone upstairs in the former shell of a house. It had been a thirty seconds that has passed all too slowly. A thirty seconds of panicking, of agonising, and of guilt. Thirty seconds more that Sarah had to suffer through, that Cooper had to inflict more unspeakable acts of violence upon her. Thirty seconds more of the Walther pressing ever harder against his back, calling him to act.

The desert wind was scratching lightly at the outer wooden walls, gnawing them.

But Chuck still wasn't moving.

He couldn't.

At first, he'd thought it was fear – and he'd been right. Sort of.

But it wasn't fear for what he had to do; he knew what was necessary to get Sarah out and he was prepared to do it. It was a different sort of fear, triggered by the logical part of his brain that had, rather surprisingly, never ceased to function. It was a fear for Sarah, of what could happen to her were he to start shooting. Chuck wasn't stupid; there were four Ring agents spread around the compound that would hear his gunshot and act on it. And with Cooper probably being in Sarah's cell, he couldn't let that happen.

Clint Eastwood guns-blazing wasn't an option. Not without getting Sarah killed.

Taking a deep breath, he moved to the centre of the room, back in front of the monitors that revealed the carefully concealed bowels of the house. Desperately trying to avoid the wounded angelic face on the centre screen, he leant in closer and forcing back a gut-wrenching feeling of panic, started to examine the layout of the basement.

At least he was no longer sweating.

There was a small lobby area at the bottom of the stairs where the first guard was stationed. An open security door connected this room to the main corridor, which ran perhaps twenty feet in length, all the way to Sarah's cell at the end. The second guard, he could see, was seated in what looked like some sort of control room/armoury hybrid about halfway along the corridor. Another room on the opposite side of the corridor that contained several cots was empty. That only left Panzer, who was outside, and Cooper. Taking out the two guards before one of them could alert the other would be the tricky part, given their proximity to each other. Either of those two could probably hit a switch triggering a lock-down at the blink of an eye. If only he had his -

The sound of a slamming car door caused Chuck to raise his head away from the monitors.

Through dusty windows, he could make out the bulky figure of Panzer standing by the Range Rover with what looked a newspaper in his arms. Seriously? He was going to start reading now! Just sit back, relax, and let the innocent woman downstairs get tortured. Ooh, the crossword! What's a five letter word for thug-for-hire? It was honestly surprising that a man like Panzer even knew how to read. The man could barely string a sentence – Wait.

Range Rover.

Ring agents were always taught to be prepared and this place, being the middle of the desert, was unlikely to be fully supplied with all the food, water, and ammunition needed to keep it running. Furthermore, it didn't look like it was in permanent use. That meant that any supplies would have to be brought along -

With a new found abruptness, Chuck pushed himself up and half ran across the creaking floor before slowing to a more reasonable pace as he reached the door, remembering where he was. Who he was supposed to be. He passed through it and out into the sunlight.

Not remembering what he'd done with his sunglasses, he instinctively raised his hand to shield his eyes from the high noon sun as he moved off the decking. He felt his feet hit sand and nodded to Panzer, who was now leaning against the stationary vehicle, newspaper open.

"Cooper, erm, wanted me to get something," he said as casually as he could, stepping up to the vehicle. Believe it. Believe it. Believe it.

Panzer eye's flicked up from his newspaper, an element of amusement in them, and a small smile formed. "He's having fun in there then? That bitch isn't going to know what hit her."

Unable to think of anything real to say, Chuck just murmured something incomprehensible and opened the rear door of the SUV, pulling himself in. Behind the seats, he could see that the trunk was largely empty. A metal netting had been put in place to separate it from the rest of the vehicle; a holding area. This was how they got her here.

Two large plastic cases that were stacked on top of each other dominated the middle seat, both unmarked. They were each around two square feet in area and another foot or so in depth, their weight indenting an impression on the seat. His heart was starting to throb against his chest. Even though he was certain Panzer had gone back to his paper, Chuck angled his body to block the larger man's vision as he moved to open the first case. Panzer would get suspicious if he didn't look like he knew what he was doing and this needed to work. Flicking open two metal latches, he lifted the lid and peered inside.

Guns.

Lots and lots of guns, all carefully tucked into place like a very, very adult toolbox. There were a couple of automatics, 9mms, spare magazines... Nothing that would be of any use getting Sarah out. He needed something quiet. A knife would be too messy and he honestly wasn't sure he had the physical strength to overpower any of the four men. Chuck lifted out the first tray of weapons and put it on the seat in front of him. Maybe there was something beneath that could-

Jackpot.

What Chuck saw caused a feral grin to slyly grow on his face. That could work. That would be quiet. His heart was still thumping against his chest and the bitter taste of adrenaline was starting to fill his mouth, helping to fuel a new, calm confidence that he was beginning to feel. He was going to save her. With his right hand, Chuck reached down into the case and gripped the small box-like object and pulled it out.

He pushed himself back out of the vehicle and slammed the door behind him, causing Panzer to look up. When he recognised the object in Chuck's hand, he grinned. "Cooper's decided to get creative then?"

He edged slightly closer to Pazner and with his thumb he flicked a switch, bringing the hand held taser to life. A small bar of blue electricity jumped to form a bridge between the two prongs at the end of the device.

Chuck shook his head and swallowed. "Actually, no. This was all me."

Then he pounced.

Panzer didn't have time to react as Chuck leapt forward, jabbing the taser past his bulk and into his exposed neck. He held it there as the electricity started to pass through Panzer's body, causing his eyes to roll spasmodically and veins to bulge against his skin. A silent scream escaped his lips as his muscles tensed against the current, trying to fight. It was a battle to keep the taser in place against thick twitching limbs – Then, all of a sudden, Panzer relaxed, his body a dead weight. Chuck pulled the taser back and moved forward to catch the unconscious form as it dropped toward the ground.

Jesus, he's heavy, Chuck thought as he struggled under Panzer's weight, trying to lower him as silently as possible. The man had at least fifty pounds of pure muscle on Chuck, making it difficult to set him leaning against the vehicle. Panzer's head fell back against metal, making a slight clunking sound, which caused Chuck to wince. Panzer didn't make a sound: he was out stone cold. After taking a step back, Chuck wiped a fresh bead of sweat from his forehead and stared, his breathing heavy.

"That's for calling Sarah a bitch."

Chuck started for the house before he had another idea, giving him pause. He stepped back towards Panzer and taking hold of both his arms, dragged him along the sand away from the Range Rover, the bald man not stirring as he did so. His newspaper beginning to unravel across the sand.

After awkwardly patting him down, he removed the pistol from Panzer's belt and put it in the Range Rover's passenger seat. Panzer's Ring phone was crushed. Fortunately, the keys had been left in the ignition, which was one less problem on Chuck's list. After making quick work of disabling the car's GPS unit, he moved into the back, taking one of the knives from the cases and headed over to his own car. He tightened his grip on the knife before proceeding to slash the tyres, one by one. The hiss of escaping air punctuated the desert silence as the car sunk into the ground. Hopefully, that would make sure that no-one was able to follow them.

Sudden very conscious that he'd been outside in the heat for almost two minutes now, he moved back towards the house, leaving the knife in the final tyre. This had been the easy part.

Inside, the dusty room was exactly how he left it; no-one appeared to have heard the commotion outside. Not that they should, Chuck reminded himself, he had been cautious. Glancing at the cameras, he could see that the two guards were still at their posts, right where they should be. And Sarah was – NO!

Chuck's mouth went dry at the image before him, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. Sarah had her eyes closed again, her body was straining against the chains. Cooper was standing behind her, just next to her shoulder and even though the image lacked colour, Chuck recognised the unmistakable sheen glinting off the knife in his hand. Blood. From this angle it was difficult to see where the blood had come from, but Chuck could see that the back of Sarah's shirt had been torn, exposing her left shoulder. Cooper then smiled and raised the knife, gently stroking it against Sarah's back as he whispered in her ear.

Chuck could feel something deep begin to well inside him and red started to cloud his vision. When he had seen Sarah before, he had felt an indescribable anger that made him want do things that were – But this. This was different. Whatever he was feeling now was something new altogether, strong than anything he'd felt in days. Something akin to anger, but just – Dammit!

The taser he was still holding felt strangely pathetic in his hand as he gripped it tighter. He wanted so badly to just grab the gun stuffed in the back of his pants and start... But he couldn't. He couldn't. He couldn't. He couldn't. Not if this was going to work.

Forcing his eyes away from the screens, Chuck felt his legs moving beneath him. It was a strange. He wasn't thinking; his body just seemed to be acting. His mind was too wrapped up in what he had just seen. Thoughts of Sarah. Thoughts of himself. Thoughts of Cooper lying dead on the ground, a rosebud between his eyes...

Then he was moving down the stairs. Into the layer of the beast. The guard at the bottom turned to towards him before looking away again, apparently satisfied. If Chuck had said or done something to acknowledge him, he couldn't remember doing so. He could see that the guard had only a side-arm on him, clipped to his belt. His hands were empty and he was standing just next to the open security door, such that he wasn't visible from the corridor.

Then the stairs abruptly ended and Chuck was right behind the other man, he palms starting to sweat. As if on cue, the guard moved to turn towards him like he had remembered to say something.

But he never had the chance.

Before he could open his mouth, Chuck's left arm was already round his neck, pulling him back, cutting off any air that would have gone on to form words. Just as he had with Panzer, Chuck flicked the taser back on and pushed it into the guard's neck. He could feel hands on his, scratching as the man struggled against him, but it was easier this time. Even though he was still bigger than Chuck, he was a dwarf on Panzer. Then his weight sank back, having slipped into unconsciousness and Chuck lowered him to the ground.

Two down.

He sat the unconscious guard against the wall and pocketed his Ring phone. His shoulders were tense as he waited. Another five seconds. Nothing. No-one was attacking him; the other guard in the control room hadn't heard.

He begun to creep down the corridor, his taser arm held at waist height, ready. Poised to attack. His left arm was held defensively at chest level. The room that the final guard was in was ten feet away. The last obstacle before he would get to Sarah. And Cooper...

Five feet.

He could just see round into the room now. The edge of a table, a chair.

Two feet.

He couldn't see the guard yet, no sound of movement was coming from the room. Or breathing -

Whoosh.

Chuck barely had time to block as a large muscular arm lashed from around the corner, only just managing to divert its path from his face. Instead, it crashed into his chest, winding him. Chuck's mouth fell open as he tried to gasp for air. He started to raise his arms, trying to get the taser up to...

But the guard was already on him. A snarling face complimented by two hands gripping at either side of his jacket, lifting him up. Chuck felt himself crash into the wall behind as the guard swung him round, causing him to drop the taser. His head was spinning from the impact, but he could clearly see the look of betrayal written all over the guard's face.

Shit. He had heard.

The guard still had Chuck up against the wall, pinning him there. He tried to kick at the man's knees to avail, the move having been anticipated.

"Wait..." Chuck croaked.

But it was no use, the guard clearly wanted nothing more than to hurt him. He smashed him again against the wall and Chuck felt his limbs go limp as the grip on him slackened and he sank down against the wall.

The guard paused only to spit down on him, before he wrenched Chuck right back up by the collar and hurled him into the control room. He landed hard on his shoulder causing a nauseating crack to ring through his ears, the taste of blood filling his mouth. Chuck tried to sit up, but his vision was blurry and everything felt dizzy, like an invisible weight pushing him back down.

Then hands were round his neck, squeezing. The guard's entire body was on his, forcing his back against the floor. He could smell the other man's breath. The grip tightened and Chuck's vision started to blacken. He tried to use his hands to pry the fingers from his neck, but the hateful face above his was slowly darkening...

He had maybe ten seconds left of consciousness, and there was a small tired part of him that welcomed what would probably come after. He deserved as much.

But Sarah.

She didn't.

He had failed her.

He tried to save her and failed.

The guard was completely atop of him now, pushing him further into the floor, causing a familiar metallic weight to dig into his back.

Five seconds.

# # #

Time had faded away again.

Cooper was in her room, and she was vaguely aware that he was talking to her. Earlier, he had forced her to look at the knife, at its sharp edges. She'd had to listen as he rambled on about the all things he was going to do to her with it, his mouth frothing the entire time. Then he'd left her vision and she'd allowed her good eye to fall back shut.

She'd felt it as he cut at the back of her shirt, before starting to snake the knife down her shoulder blade. It tingled only slightly to begin with. Then blood had been drawn and she'd sub-consciously bit her lip to conceal her scream, a small part of her still determined to resist. That part was getting ever smaller.

The brief respite that Chuck had given her felt as if had been an age ago. And now, more than anything, Sarah was tired. Things didn't even hurt anymore, not really. Not that much. The slither of hope that Chuck had given her was gone, consumed by the deep tiredness within her. The tiredness that just wanted everything to go away.

She didn't blame Chuck, not anymore at least. He knew he couldn't keep his promise. He was undercover; that was his mission. It was her screw up that had landed her here. No-one else's. She hadn't given up, so to speak. She had just accepted that this was her fate. Although, she was glad that Chuck wasn't a traitor, that he'd come to see her. It had been nice to look into those eyes one last time.

Then something cut across the sound of Cooper's voice, a new sound. It sounded different. She strained her ears against her interrogator's questions to get a fix on it. Metal. Rusty metal. Like a key in a lock.

"I told you I was to be left alone!" she heard Cooper's voice say from behind her.

Sarah opened her eyes just in time to see the door swing open, the tall blurry figure behind it slowly coming into focus and dragging her back from her detached reality, straight into disbelief.

"Get away from her," Chuck demanded, levelling a gun at Cooper. His eyes were darting from her to the knife, before finally settling on Cooper.

Chuck looked bad. He was panting heavily and there were ugly red marks all around his neck. But his steady grip on the gun never wavered.

"Carmichael," Cooper's voice said, sounding perplexed. "What are you doing?"

"I said, get the fuck away from her," Chuck repeated, seething anger barely concealed.

Sarah couldn't look away from him, just standing there. Ready. She couldn't believe he'd come back. She tried to tell him no with her eyes, tell him that she wasn't worth it. His cover was more important. But it wasn't working. For the next second, nobody moved and silence filled the room such that she was able to differentiate between everyone's breathing: Chuck's panting, her rasping, and Cooper's slow barely audible inhalations.

Then she felt Cooper move and the metal blade was now being pressed into her neck, his face right up against hers as he used her body as a shield. The blade was only lightly pressed against her throat, not enough to break the skin. But that wasn't enough to break her paralysis. Chuck's eyes suddenly widened and the gun twitched slightly.

"I honestly have to say, I'm surprised," Cooper said, his voice returning to its normal casual tone, his mind having already digested Chuck's betrayal. "But you should have shot me while you had the chance, because now we're at a stalemate."

Cooper was right. There was no way he'd be able to get a shot off and not hit her, even at this distance. She couldn't read Chuck's eyes, what he was going to do. Although, he did seem to be concentrating very hard on something. His stare was fixed on where Cooper's head was, but he seemed to looking past that, as if he was trying grasp at something. Then he found it.

It happened so fast that she barely noticed it and probably wouldn't have, had she not already been looking in to his eyes. In an almost imperceptible movement, Chuck's eyes rolled up into his head for half a second, before he blinked heavily.

"Carmichael? What the hell-"

The two shots that suddenly rang out echoed loudly through the small room and Sarah instinctively closed her eyes.

Silence.

For what seemed like the longest time, she thought that she was dead. That Chuck had missed. That she'd been shot. That Cooper had slit her throat.

Then she heard a voice, reassuring her. The voice was soothing. Maybe this was heaven. Maybe they'd decided to let her in; her prize for not talking. Except it didn't sound like the divine voice of any god. It didn't sound like soothing voice of her long dead mother, telling her everything was okay now and she didn't need to worry. It sounded like...

"Sarah? It's okay now. I'm gonna get you out of here. Just hang on, please," Chuck was saying, a desperation in his voice.

Sarah opened her one good eye to the scene in front of her. Cooper was lying dead on the floor beside her, two bullet holes in his head. His hand was still clutching the knife with her fresh blood on it.

And there was Chuck.

She couldn't see his face as he had keys in hand and was fumbling with the manacles locking her wrists in place, freeing her.

"I'm sorry, I should've got to you to sooner only..." Only his words weren't sinking in anymore as her mind's need to fight began to lift, three days of resistance fading.

Then her arms were hers once again as the locks clicked open, and a small smile crept up on her face as she fell, unconsciously, into Chuck's arms. Into the warmth.

# # #

Chuck didn't see the expression on Sarah's face and was only just able to step back in time to catch her as the worn-out CIA agent collapsed onto him. The first thing he noticed as he caught her light frame was that she was cold. Very cold. He hadn't noticed that when he'd been in here before. The second thing was that she wasn't conscious. This was hardly surprising, and he hadn't expected her to be able to walk out of here anyway. He lifted her up with both his arms and pulled her as close as he could towards him, keeping her warm.

The smell of cordite was still fresh, keeping him ever conscious of Cooper's dead body. Not that he needed reminding of another death that he was responsible for; the shock would see to that. He couldn't believed he had made that shot. After having been buried in his sub-conscious for more than a week, the Intersect had come through for him. It had helped him save Sarah. It had helped him kill. Again. Regardless, Cooper was dead now and Sarah wasn't. There would be plenty of time to berate himself later. Right now, he needed to get Sarah out of here.

He left the cell and started back down the hallway. Even though his shoulder still painfully ached, Chuck was barely aware of the weight in his arms. After what Sarah had been through, his pain was nothing. He cradled her head to his chest as he passed the control room, where he come so close to dying himself. Even if she was unconscious, he was determined not to let her see what had gone on in there. She didn't need any more reminding of the monster he'd become, of what he'd let these bastards do to her. She had seen enough of that already.

He moved up the stairs, back through the main room and out into the open where Panzer still lay. He had thankfully not moved and Chuck briefly considered binding him, before deciding against it, not wanting to waste any more time. He crossed towards the Range Rover and struggled to open the passenger door while keeping a hold of Sarah. Brushing the weapon he had confiscated from Panzer onto the car floor, he set Sarah down and strapped her in so that her head was resting comfortably on the seat belt. He then wrapped his jacket around her. She needed to stay warm. The wound on her shoulder wasn't that bad; getting her as far away from here was the priority right now. Getting back to civilisation, where there was a hospital for Sarah and probably a jail cell for him.

Chuck climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine, reversing the vehicle back towards the road. Putting the car into third, he set course back towards the I-15 and to humanity.

"It's gonna be okay, Sarah," he found himself saying as the open sand started to speed past his window. "It's all okay. You're safe now. I'm gonna get you to a hospital. Everything's gonna be okay."

And he believed that. Well, for Sarah at least. She was going to be okay. He had saved her. Whatever happened to him now didn't matter. The undercover operation to infiltrate The Ring didn't matter. The only thing that mattered to Chuck was making sure that she was okay. Besides, it wasn't as if there was anyone left anyway to -

"No," he heard a weak voice beside him say. "No hospital."

Chuck head shot to the right, to where Sarah's voice had come from. She was awake? Then he remembered he was supposed to be driving and forced his gaze back to the front. "Um, sorry? Did you say something, Sarah?"

"Yeah," she rasped, gently nodding her head. Her eyes were still closed. "We can't go to a hospital."

That didn't make any sense? Why wouldn't she want to go to a hospital after all she had been through?

"But Sarah, you're hurt!"

She swallowed again and speaking was clearly difficult. "It's too exposed... I'm not that bad... The Government... will arrest you for the bombing...or worse...we need to lie low...get in touch with Bryce."

Bryce.

That was the reason. She wanted him to help her get in touch with Bryce. That made sense. After what he'd put her through, why would she care whether he was arrested or not? Hell, he deserved as much.

"Okay," Chuck said meekly, not wanting to argue with her. "We'll find somewhere..."

How the hell was he supposed to tell her about Bryce?

# # #

[SOMETIME LATER]

It was the nice smell of whatever was wrapped around her that woke her. At first she'd thought that she was warm in her bed, her duvet protecting her. But it didn't smell like her duvet. It was different. A nice sort of different. Plus, it didn't feel like a duvet. It was rougher.

Then she remembered that she had Chuck's jacket wrapped around her. And she was in a car, driving through the desert. No longer chained up.

"Une année sans lumière"

There was music playing, only it wasn't in English. Well, some of it was. Some lyrics were in a different language that she couldn't quite place right now. Her mind automatically translated anyway.

"A year without light," she muttered, without opening her eyes. Her throat was still hurting.

"Huh?" Chuck's voice said, sounding surprised at hearing her voice. "What did you say?"

"A year without light," she repeated more confidently. "The lyric. It's what it means."

"Oh. Right," Chuck replied. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, just the silence was …."

"S'okay. Who is it? The band, I mean."

"Um, Arcade Fire. It's from their first album..."

She murmured in acknowledgement, but didn't recognise the name that Chuck told her.

Shuffling into a more comfortable position, she drew the jacket closer around her and concentrated on listening to the music, letting it relax her. It was something to focus on, a distraction from what she'd just experienced. An escape.

She had so many burning questions that she needed answers to, but right now they could wait. Right now, they didn't seem to matter; all that mattered was listening to the music...