A/N:Thanks to Dana for beta'ing this, who is, as always, amazing. Also thanks to NMH for all the encouragement and help with this chapter.
Enjoy.
Chapter 13
Red Rabbit Hole
October 17th 2007
Near Interstate 395, Nevada
16:31 PST
"Are you sure about this?"
"Chuck, for the last time, relax," Sarah said calmly despite her increasing frustration at her seeming inability to pick a damn padlock. "It'll be fine," she added, gritting the words through her teeth as she forced the hairpin further into the lock that was bolting shut the wooden garage door.
She was no longer simply just frustrated; this was starting to get embarrassing. She was a fully qualified CIA field agent, and she'd been working on the lock for almost five minutes now without success. It was ridiculous. From the corner of her eye she saw Chuck nod rather uncertainly before turning his gaze back towards the road, keeping a look out – no doubt he agreed. Aware of the heat that was starting to rise to her cheeks, she forced her attention back to the lock and mission at hand and not Chuck's ever worsening opinion of her abilities.
They had spent most of the day continuing to drive north along the 395, crossing the state line with Nevada a couple of hours back. This took them out of California, where they were due to meet with Skinnard in a little over a day, and that was precisely the point.
As Chuck had pointed out not soon after leaving the motel, and Sarah had wholeheartedly agreed, the Range Rover they'd stolen from the Ring was hardly subtle. They and, god forbid, the CIA would probably have put an intercept order out on it by now. They needed to change vehicles and the garage that she was – unsuccessfully – trying to break into seemed like the perfect target. It was part of an apparently abandoned complex of farm buildings half a mile off the Interstate, the single track leading up to them not having been used in months. Regardless, they'd spent the past hour waiting and looking for any signs of activity before deciding to move in.
Hopefully, there'd be another vehicle in the garage that they could use to slip back into California. When the Range Rover was eventually discovered, anyone would think that they had continued north towards Carson City. Perfect.
Well, it would be if she could just open this stupid lock.
"Dammit," Sarah cursed as her second hairpin snapped. Before she could stop herself she slammed her foot against the door. The impact jolted through her foot which only served to irritate her more.
She felt Chuck tense up beside her. "Um, Sarah?"
"What?" she snapped, turning to face him and immediately regretted it.
His mouth had dropped and he suddenly seemed much smaller than his tall frame, brown eyes full of guilt – a look on him that she had become far too familiar with in the little time that she'd known him.
But before she could apologise, Chuck quickly forced a smile and held up his right hand, letting her see what he was holding: a crow bar. "Maybe you'd like to try with this," he said, offering it to her. "As much as I don't think we should damage someone's property – disregarding the fact that we're actually about to steal from it – I think you getting some form of cathartic release is far more important right now."
Sarah frowned. Cathartic release? Okay, so maybe the lock had got her a little pent up...
Gradually, her frown started to fade, turning into a lopsided smile. "Thanks, Chuck," she said, taking the crow bar off him, feeling a bit embarrassed. As she started to raise the crow bar, she paused. "And Chuck," she said quietly, giving him another hesitant look. "I'm sorry I snapped."
Chuck shook his head in dismissal. "Don't worry about it," he said. "I'm pretty sure I would have no idea where to start when it comes to picking locks. Besides, it's a stressful situation, you know, breaking and entering followed by car jacking."
Sarah grinned, raising an eyebrow. "Doesn't the vehicle have to have people inside for it to be considered a car jacking?"
"Technicalities," Chuck shrugged, waving his hand. "Anyway, don't you have a padlock to smash through, Agent Walker?"
Suppressing another grin, she turned back to the offending piece of metal, and shoved the crow bar down through the small gap between the door and metal bolt. When about a third of it was in she put her foot against the door and started to pull back with both hands, yanking the bolt forward. At first, nothing happened, but that only spurred her on, despite her shoulders still feeling raw from the rafters. She yanked harder. Again nothing, and she let slip a sound which could only be described as a growl.
Chuck jumped beside her.
Just as she was starting to worry her muscles might have atrophied more than she originally thought and she would have to ask Chuck to break through the lock, the wood began to creak. Then, the metal bolt started to break free of the wood and splinters began to fly. Readjusting her grip, she gave one final pull, ripping the metal free, causing both the padlock and the lock to drop to the ground, where they landed in the dirt with a satisfying thud.
Wiping several beads of sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand she turned to Chuck, who had both his eyebrows raised. "You were right," she said, throwing him back the crow bar. "That was cathartic."
Chuck gave a short, rather high-pitched laugh, which he quickly tried to turn into a cough and failed. "Yeah, um, right. Shall we see what fruits await your labour then?"
After Chuck discarded the remains of the lock, they each took hold of a door and pulled them open, letting light fill the dusty garage. Although it was big enough to contain at least three vehicles, most of the garage was empty. Old tools had been pushed back against the walls and there was about three quarters of a tractor sitting in one corner. Nevertheless, their effort to break in had not been in vain.
Sitting in the middle of the garage was an old Ford F150 truck. The paint had considerably faded, but it was the same indistinguishable shade of red that her –
"Well, it's a definite change from the Range Rover," Chuck said, walking over to the truck to get a better look. "Even if it is a bit of a cliché..."
After giving the truck a once over he looked back to her. "What do you – hey, are you all right?"
"What? No, yeah, I'm fine." Sarah quickly shook her head, realising her expression had betrayed her once again.
Chuck's eyes narrowed, but the sympathetic expression remained. "Sure?"
"It's just..." she started to say before pressing her lips together. Even though she couldn't see why Chuck would care about what had brought up her mixed feelings of nostalgia, she felt bad for holding out on him given how honest he'd been with her about Bryce and everything else. "My father used to own a truck exactly like that, a red one."
"Oh," Chuck said simply, tilting his head, urging her to continue.
"When I was eight, he used it to drive me round residential neighbourhoods and I'd pretend to be a girl scout selling large amounts of non-existent cookies...among other things."
Chuck frowned slightly. "So your dad was a..." he asked gently.
"Is," she corrected, staring at the dirt, not wanting to make eye contact with him. "Well, he was in jail up until about a year ago – I don't know where he is now. But believe me, conning housewives out of cookies was the least of his sins."
She suddenly felt very stupid; it was a truck, why she had felt the need to tell Chuck about her father – let alone anything about her past – was beyond her. Though any grievances from that particular past life were now dwarfed by acts of recent years. Still, she'd never told Bryce about her past before she joined the CIA; she had never told anyone anything really real about her.
"That can't have been an easy way to grow up," Chuck said gently.
"It was the only thing I knew," she said. "Back then, it just seemed like a game to me – to my father it probably still is."
Chuck moved a couple of steps closer to her, eyebrows slightly raised. "You know that your father's sins are his, right? And not your own."
She gave him a twisted smile. "I don't think it's that simple, Chuck."
"I do," he said, holding her gaze.
Sarah felt herself blink. How could someone usually so reserved and tentative be so forthcoming? Chuck had spent months undercover with the Ring, had saved her – subduing four of their number in the process – and yet in the little time they'd spent together he always seemed to be treading on needles around her. Only hours ago he had come clean with her about his Red Test, about his inability to flash. And now for him to just be so understanding... It confused the hell out of her. Of course, she wasn't entirely convinced by what he had said – even if a large part of her desperately wanted to believe it. Nevertheless, the fact that Chuck wasn't judging her was something in itself.
He gave her a small smile, brown eyes still full of warmth. "I take it that hot-wiring trucks is somewhere in your skill set, right?"
Sarah had to laugh. She could hot-wire the hell out of most vehicles.
Stupid padlocks be damned.
# # #
October 17th 2007
Pollock Pines, California
21:17 PST
As they pulled into the small parking lot, the sun had long since dipped below the horizon and Chuck was feeling like an idiot for a number of reasons.
The meeting with Skinnard was drawing ever closer, and he had yet to start feeling any closer to flashing. Not that he'd had much time to try and flash recently; most of the day had been spent driving. He wasn't even sure how he would go about trying, and the very thought of it proved to be daunting. Sarah had told him that morning that she believed he could do it, but as much as that warmed him inside, he didn't share her confidence. She probably wouldn't feel that way if she knew the full extent of it all.
The consequences of what would happen to him were he not able to flash and prove the existence of both the Intersect and his undercover mission were becoming increasing stark, as were they – more worryingly – for Sarah. Her association with him alone could not only lead the CIA to accuse her of being a traitor, but potentially back into the hands of the Ring, and that scared the hell out of him. Even if this thing with Skinnard did pan out, his presence with her just put her in more danger. He needed to find some way to talk to her about this, but so far he had yet to find his chance.
After Sarah had hot-wired the car with another hairpin (seriously, he couldn't understand where she got them all from), they'd emptied the Range Rover of its small cache of weapons before hiding the vehicle in the garage. Once they had gotten going, other than telling him to head back west towards California, Sarah had reverted into silence, spending most of the journey pouring over maps. Her body language was near impossible to read, particularly while he was driving, and Chuck had thought that distracting her didn't seem like the best of ideas.
Having mutually agreed that it was time to stop for the night and regather, they had pulled off the 50 on the outskirts of Pollock Pines, just outside Eldorado National Forest. Neither of them had eaten since breakfast – which had been a particularly unsatisfying attempt at a continental – as clearing the windy, mountainous roads that hugged the state border had taken longer than expected, leaving Chuck feeling worn from driving.
However before they went in search of something to eat, Sarah had suggested that they stop at a store and collect some essentials. Here, Chuck had finally managed to buy a replacement shirt for his old blood-stained white one along with a couple of spares, some underwear and new jeans. Equally, by the time they left, Sarah had changed into a new simple-but-practical blouse, jeans and a dark brown jacket. She had also come out with a couple of extra bags to small to contain clothes.
That was the final reason he was feeling like an idiot; inside had been concealer and various other make-up that Sarah had insisted he wear over his bruises to cover them, which she applied expertly in the car. Admittedly Sarah was wearing some too, much more than him, as her injuries were far more extensive. Fortunately, though, by now her eyelid was only slightly drooping – barely noticeable even.
"You getting out?" Sarah asked, dragging him from his thoughts and simultaneously alerting him to the fact that at some point he'd parked the vehicle.
"Yeah, sorry," Chuck quickly muttered while unbuckling his safety belt. "Just got a little distracted."
Sarah looked away as she got out, grinning. "I'll bet."
The diner they had chosen was a quiet place, and only a few patrons were inside when they entered. A family of four happily eating obliviously in a corner, and a couple of weathered-looking travellers drinking beers at the bar. No waitress was around so they took the table nearest the door. Just as Chuck started to flick through the menu, Sarah laid the map she'd been looking over down on the table.
"I've been looking for places where we can meet Skinnard," she said, lowering her voice. "And I've come up with three suitable locations that are close enough to Sacramento to get to in short notice."
She pointed to three locations on the map, her finger lingering on the last one. "I reckon this is probably our best shot," she said. "Bakersville. Fifty miles south-east of Sacramento. One road in, one road out. Enough tree cover should we need to make a run for it." She bit her lip before looking up at him seriously. "What do you think?"
Chuck quickly glanced down at the map, not really paying any attention to where Sarah was pointing, but trying to focus instead on her reaction. "Looks good," he said simply.
"Good," Sarah said, giving him a small smile in agreement before stuffing the map back under the table.
"Okay," Chuck said, trying to hide his fidgeting hands under the table. "So, um, are we gonna call your friend Chloe and have her pass this location on to Skinnard?"
Sarah started to open her mouth to say something, her expression pained, but the waitress had apparently chosen that exact moment to appear from wherever she'd been hiding. She placed a couple of glasses of water in front of them and sighed.
"Sorry about the wait," the girl said, sounding slightly flustered. "It's been a hell of a day."
"You have no idea," Sarah muttered, shaking her head slightly.
The girl widened her eyes for a moment, stealing a disapproving glance in Chuck's direction before she seemed to remember where she was and asked for their order. After a quick scan through the menu, Chuck ordered a pizza and Sarah asked for the chicken. The waitress forced a smile and promised their food wouldn't be long before disappearing again. Sarah waited for a few minutes after the waitress had left, looking hesitant to continue, before she finally spoke.
"Chuck," she said seriously. "I know the sacrifices you've made for the Agency and...well, for me personally, and I really don't mean to patronise you when I say this, but there's something that you need to understand, okay?"
Sarah bit her lip again. She'd been doing that a lot lately.
"Chloe and Assistant Director Skinnard... They're not my friends, Chuck. They're my contacts," she said seriously. "And while I trust them implicitly, we have to be pragmatic about the situation."
Surprisingly, Chuck found himself smiling. Though he was sure it didn't continue to his eyes. "Trust me, by now I know the difference."
Sarah looked up at him from across the table, eyes still wide and serious, before her hand started to slowly move towards him and a couple of her fingers began to casually brush against his. "I do trust you, Chuck."
Chuck clenched his jaw, and he had to force himself not to stare at his hand and focus on her face – although he could still feel the small circles that her fingers were starting to trace against against him.
I do trust you. Those words echoed through his head. Hearing Sarah say them did more than just reassure him. Hearing her say those words made a part of him feel like he could do anything, a part big enough to temporarily drown out the realist in him that was screaming he had to get away from Sarah, to protect her.
Sarah pulled her hand back and took a small sip of water, before clearing her throat meaningfully. "And to answer your question, no, we won't call her yet. Bakersville is only a few hours drive from here. If we get there by early afternoon we'll be able to scout the place beforehand and still have enough time to call Chloe and give Skinnard enough forewarning to meet us there the next day."
"About that," Chuck said, swallowing nervously. "If I'm not able to flash, things could get problematic." Chuck paused. He knew what he should say next: tell Sarah it wasn't safe for her to be with him – what he'd been meaning to say all day. But he couldn't. Not after what she'd just said to him. "What do we do if that happens?" he asked instead.
"I'm not sure yet," Sarah said, her fingers idly moving around the rim of her glass. "Getting the Intersect working again is probably our best bet. I thought that maybe tonight you could talk me through the process of – um, flashing? Maybe if we went over all the steps..." She trailed off and took another drink water.
Chuck nodded, trying to seem enthusiastic and project a confidence he didn't feel. "Yeah, seems like a good idea."
Sarah gave him another one of her small smiles – god, he loved her smiles – before turning her attention to the waitress who was just arriving with their food.
Despite Sarah's belief in his ability to flash, the thought of attempting to use the Intersect again scared him more than he was willing to admit. Each of the last two times he had used it, someone had ended up dead.
By his hand.
# # #
October 17th 2007
Motel, Pollock Pines, California
22:10 PST
Half an hour later they had finished eating, taking the short drive down the street to the nights designated motel. It was still on the outskirts of town, out of sight of the main road, and from the outside seemed more run down that the previous nights stay. It wasn't that money was an issue; they still had just under two thousand dollars left from what had been in the Range Rover, enough to get them by until they had access to CIA resources again, but they were, after all, staying under the radar, and that meant dingy motels.
"I'll see if they have a twin room," Chuck muttered, starting to move towards the office.
"Huh?" Sarah said from behind him. He turned on the spot to see that Sarah was looking at him quizzically, an eyebrow raised. "A twin room?" she repeated.
"Um, yeah," Chuck said, scratching the back of his head. "I mean, after this morning I didn't wanna presume anything and..."
Sarah turned only the palest shade of pink at the mention of what had happened this morning before frowning. "Chuck, our cover is a couple," she said. "Couples don't exactly ask for twin rooms."
"Right, of course they don't" he said, trying to convince himself that sharing a bed with an attractive female agent was standard Agency practice – and did she just say couple? "I'll go and see if they have, erm, a double room then."
They did have a double room available, in fact they had several as the tourist season was now nearly over, and the one that they were given had pretty much the same layout as the one the previous night. The only major difference being that the TV appeared to be a relic from the eighties, old enough to make Chuck cringe slightly. But other than to quickly check the local news and see if their pictures came up under any fugitive banners, neither of them felt like watching it anyway.
Sarah took the first shower, and Chuck insisted that she not worry about using up the hot water and take as long as she wanted. Regardless, she had emerged less than fifteen minutes later in a new tank top and jeans sans make-up, and Chuck's had eyes briefly fluttered across the now fading bruises on her face and bare shoulders. Thankfully, her stitches had held and her cut appeared to be healing nicely.
After Chuck had quickly showered and changed, he'd found Sarah sitting cross-legged on one end of the double bed, waiting for him.
"Good shower?" she asked.
Chuck quickly nodded. "Yeah. It felt nice to wash off the drive."
"Tell me about it," she said before sighing and patting the part of the bed opposite her, and Chuck suddenly knew what was coming. Wordlessly he walked over the bed and mirrored her position.
"So, um, I know this is a little weird," Sarah said shyly. "But I thought that maybe we could start working on your inability to perform – I mean, you know, with the Intersect."
"Yeah," he said, his throat suddenly dry as he tried to ignore the unintentional double entendre. "Although I'm not really sure what we could do about it..."
Sarah smiled at him, and he tried not to avert her gaze. "Maybe we should talk a little first," she said.
"Okay, I guess that can't hurt."
"Before I met you," Sarah said, picking idly at the duvet. "I didn't even think the Intersect project was real. It seemed like something that Graham and the other higher-ups would make up just to scare the Russians. The idea of a single computer holding all of the government's secrets, let alone there being any actual agents in the field that have one in their brain, just sounds so bizarre – sorry, that was a bit callous of me." Sarah pursed her lips together. "So you'll have to forgive me, but I still don't understand how it works exactly. I was hoping you could enlighten me."
Chuck gave a half-shrug before shaking his head. "To be honest, I'm not even sure exactly how it works – at least the technical details of it, which are way beyond me. Practically, it's sort of hard to describe. I mean, it gives me these flashes of data depending on the situation I'm in."
Sarah frowned. "What kind of situations?" she asked.
"Well, a flash can be triggered by image recognition – say I'll see a person that's in the Intersect, and it'll give me all the intelligence on said person." He paused, and Sarah shook her head, urging him to carry on. "Or I can flash on abilities," he said. "You know, things I might need to know in a particular situation: a foreign language, kung-fu, or even how to play guitar – although, I don't really need that last one, seeing as playing the guitar is one of my few real skills."
Sarah gave him a brief smile before her expression turned serious. "Is that how you made that shot?"
That shot.
She meant was that how he was able to kill Cooper.
"Yes," he said honestly. There was no point hiding it.
"And you said before that you hadn't manage to flash on anything since your-"
"My Red Test?" Chuck finished, recollecting the grim memory. "No, not since then."
Sarah's eyes were suddenly full of sympathy, but she didn't say anything, not pushing on him to elaborate.
"Bryce told me," Chuck started to say, his eyes flickering over to her, looking for any signs of reaction at the mention of Bryce's name. When there was none, he continued. "He told me once that sometimes the Intersect can be affected by emotions. That when I'm not calm and clear-headed it doesn't work properly, that my emotions can form a kind of mental block to the Intersect."
That sounded much more petty than when Bryce had said it, he thought. Though Sarah wasn't laughing.
"Taking someone's life is never easy, Chuck," she said very slowly. "Even if your superiors have told you that it's justified, telling that to your conscience can be a different matter entirely."
The words sounded cautious, almost as if she was testing them, and for a moment Chuck thought that she was saying them more to herself to him. She looked like she wanted to reach over and take his hand, just like back at the diner. But she didn't.
"What I did back in the desert," Chuck said quickly, aware of the sudden elephant in the room, of how his words might have sounded. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat."
Sarah looked back up at him, her eyes wide. "I know you would."
"I just – I just can't believe the Intersect came through," he said, his voice cracking a bit, trying not to gaze into the blue depths across from him.
Sarah seemed to recognise his nervousness. "Maybe you could go through the moments leading up to before you flashed," she said, smiling reassuringly. "To try and recreate your state of mind."
Chuck hesitated; whenever he flashed before, it was always unexpected, and the first few seconds were always a bit hazy. His frame of mind right before he had flashed and shot Cooper was something that was burnt into his memory, although not something he was particularly eager to revisit – or even sure he could recreate.
"Chuck?" Sarah prompted.
"Yeah, sorry," he said. "It's just that flashing before was different – it just sort of happened. I wouldn't have to actively concentrate on it or anything. I'd just see something and flash on it, or the Intersect would know how to react in a certain situation. After my Red Test it just...well, stopped. I stopped flashing. And then in the desert, everything was just so...chaotic. I had just..." Chuck let his voice trail before he finished the sentence. He couldn't quite bring himself to say shot someone else. Not to Sarah.
"And you were in that room," he continued, "With him, and then he had the knife to you and I just wanted to scream. So badly I wanted to scream. But I couldn't, and then he wasn't going to let you go and everything suddenly seemed so clear. I knew what I had to do; I had to flash. It was the only way to stop him. I had to flash. And somehow I did, and well, you know the rest..."
Sarah's eyes never left him as he spoke, and she seemed to be studying him intently, her expression once again unreadable. When she finally spoke her voice, although clear, was quiet. "I know how difficult that must have been for you, Chuck," she said.
Chuck shook his head. "Actually," he said slowly. "It was the easiest decision I've ever made."
Sarah regarded for a moment, and a few seconds went by, creating another awkward pause between between them. Thankfully, Sarah had the sense to break it.
"I want you do me a favour, okay?" she said slightly hesitantly, before quickly licking her lips, and Chuck could tell she suddenly seemed anxious about something. "Close your eyes."
Chuck frowned. "Close my eyes? Why?"
"Please, Chuck," she said, smiling nervously at him.
With a small sigh, he let his eyes fall shut. Even though he couldn't see her, he was positive that Sarah was still watching him. He wasn't sure what she was hoping he'd accomplish by doing this.
"Okay, now, I want you to relax."
"I'm relaxed," Chuck said.
He heard Sarah laugh. "No, Chuck, I mean seriously relax. Slow deep breaths, okay."
The irony wasn't lost on him that it was Sarah who was telling him to relax. In the little time he'd spent around her, he'd felt constantly on edge and alert, with very little time to relax. A lot of that was just out of the need he felt to protect her and make sure she was safe, but it was something else too.
"Slow deep breaths," she said again.
Outside of Sarah's occasional soothing voice, there were no other sounds to distract him. Even the crickets outside were being quiet, and Chuck turned his attention towards his breathing. In and out. Nice and slow. In and out...
As he continued taking long, drawn out breaths, he gradually started to feel himself relax, muscles that had been aching from the long drive started to loosen, and everything else just felt so much more peaceful.
In and out.
"Why did they choose you for the Intersect project?" he heard Sarah ask softly.
Chuck felt himself frown at Sarah's rather random question. Why they had chosen him for the Intersect was a question he asked himself almost every single day. Nevertheless, she had asked...
"Something to do with my brain being able to absorb and rapidly process large quantities of information. Why?" he said with his eyes still closed.
"Chuck," she said. "Open your eyes."
When he did so, to his surprise, Sarah was smiling at him, widely. She seemed pleased about something.
"Okay," he said, puzzled "I gotta ask – what was the point of all that?"
Sarah's smile fell a little and she tilted her head slightly. "You mean you don't know?"
"Know what?"
"Chuck," she said. "I asked you that question in French."
French?"
How the hell...
He didn't speak French – he'd tried once, in college, but he'd never been able to pronounce all the crazy word endings. But Sarah had spoken to him in French and he'd understood.
"You also answered in French," Sarah continued, still smiling. "Your accent could use some work though. If you used it in Paris, Parisians would probably hate you."
Answered?
He'd answered in French too?
That meant that he must have –
"I flashed?" he asked, though it wasn't particularly directed at Sarah. "How could I have flashed and not realised it?"
Sarah nodded. "Your eyelids moved a bit right after I asked, but you didn't seem to notice."
"That's so strange, I wasn't even aware..." he said, blinking a couple of times, still in awe at what had just happened. "I guess I must have been pretty relaxed..."
"Yeah, I guess so," Sarah said. When she saw that he'd begun to massage his temple she gestured to his head. "Are you all right?" she asked.
"Just a little headache," he answered. Truthfully it was more than just a little headache, but Sarah didn't need to know. "I get them sometimes after flashing," he added in an effort to reassure. "It's nothing serious."
She reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe we should stop for tonight."
Chuck glanced down at her hand before looking back at her. "We could try some more. I think we're starting to make some progress."
Sarah smiled. "I think we've made enough progress for one night, Chuck."
He considered it for a moment, before realising that Sarah was probably right and that he had very little motivation and will to argue the point. "Yeah, probably better stop," he conceded as he started to move off the bed. His legs were starting to get slightly numb after all. "That was a good trick with the breathing thing, by the way. How did you know it would work?"
Sarah turned her head towards him, flashing him a puzzled smile. "I didn't – well, not really anyway. You did tell me that the Intersect worked better when you were clear-headed and relaxed. I just helped you get there."
"You could've fooled me," Chuck said raising his eyebrows, still impressed.
Sarah shrugged, before stretching her arms back. "Well, I did do a semester in psychology back at Harvard."
"You went to Harvard?" Chuck asked.
"Don't let the blonde deceive you," she said nonchalantly, making to move off the bed on the other side from him.
"No, no, no," Chuck started to say, getting lost in his words. "I didn't mean to insinuate that you weren't good -"
He shut up at the wave of Sarah's hand. "Don't worry about it," she said. "It was a joke," she added quietly.
"Ah," he said, turning red. "I guess the class paid off then."
"Anyway," Sarah said glancing at the clock by the bed. "It's getting late, and we have a busy day tomorrow. So..."
"Yeah," Chuck said, turning his head away. "I'll give you some space to change."
"No, that's okay," she said quickly, and Chuck barely had enough time to avert his gaze his time before Sarah had dropped her jeans revealing her long – no, he wasn't looking! But seriously...wow.
She cleared her throat to let him know when she was safely under the covers on her side of the bed. Chuck suddenly felt very conscious of the new t-shirt and jeans he was wearing. He had left the jeans on last night when he went to bed and he hadn't exactly thought to buy any pajamas in the store. Sleeping in jeans wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world...And Sarah clearly felt that...
Coming to a decision, he climbed into the bed and, making sure to thoroughly cover himself with the sheet, started to unbuckle his jeans before worming out of the them. He could've sworn he heard the tiniest of laughs from beside him as dropped the jeans out onto the floor.
"How did you know I didn't speak French?" Chuck asked, not wanting the situation to linger on his...modesty.
"I assumed that being from California you'd probably learn Spanish at school," she said, reaching over to the light off.
Chuck frowned as he watched her shadow settle back down on the bed. "You know I'm from California?"
"I just figured that going to Stanford and having a sister in Burbank meant that you're probably a native."
"Oh," he said, stifling a yawn. "You're very good at deducing things, Ms Walk – wait, what!" The realisation of what Sarah had just said abruptly hit home, causing Chuck to bolt up in the bed, and it was only half a second later that she did the same.
"What's wrong, Chuck?" she asked, her eyes wide with panic.
"You – you know about my sister?" he asked and suddenly he felt like he was back in Mexico, or with Perry in the bar, and Sarah was back hanging from rafters with a knife to her throat – everything was chaos again.
Sarah slowly nodded, clearly unnerved by his reaction. "I went to see her in Burbank," she said cautiously. "The same day that you found me in the hotel room. I was looking for you."
Sarah had met Ellie? Chuck swallowed heavily; that was even more worrying. Only Graham, Bryce and a handful of others at the CIA knew he had a sister. Most of the time he had been there he was Carmichael, not Bartowski, and Ellie had no connection to Carmichael. That had been his one condition for going undercover: the CIA had to make Bartowski the alias; he was to become Carmichael to infiltrate the Ring. There could be no link back to Ellie. But if Sarah had found Ellie right before the Ring had captured her...
"Talk to me, Chuck," Sarah said. "What's wrong?"
"It's just -" he stammered. "Ellie was – I mean, how did you find her?"
Sarah placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "I looked her up in the phone book," she said giving him a sceptical look. "Don't worry, I was alone. I didn't file it or report it or anything. The CIA didn't even know I was in L.A. at that point."
Chuck let out a sigh of relief. "Oh. Oh, okay," he said. "Sorry, I-I didn't mean to startle you or anything, Sarah. It's just that Ellie has no connection to Carmichael. If the Ring ever found out about..."
Sarah nodded. "I understand."
With his immediate panic over, they both silently laid back down onto the bed and Chuck tried to get himself comfortable. Thoughts of Ellie and the Ring made that harder.
"How was she?" Chuck asked quietly. "Ellie, I mean."
"She misses you," Sarah whispered.
"Yeah," he said, suddenly finding words very hard to make out. "I miss her a lot, too."
He was glad it was dark in the room; he didn't want to Sarah to see the moisture that was starting to form in his eye. After everything she'd been through, she didn't need to see that.
"Good night, Chuck."
"Good night, Sarah."
# # #
Chuck lay awake for a long time that night. As tired as he was, he couldn't seem to sleep. Lying there staring at the dirty ceiling above, thoughts of Ellie plagued his mind. Thoughts of Ellie, Devon, Morgan and all his other friends from his life before. The jubilation from flashing had long since worn off.
True, there was no direct link from him back to Ellie, and the Ring had vetted him thoroughly before accepting him. But if Sarah had managed to find his sister simply by looking in the phone book...Perhaps he was being naïve to think that Ellie ever would be safe, even if he had gone undercover as Carmichael. Bryce had promised him that he'd watch over her, but he was gone now.
Chuck rolled over onto his side, trying to shake the worrying thoughts from his mind, when he abruptly realised that he was facing Sarah. She was lying on her back, her head angled away so that he couldn't see her face.
She had certainly gone to some lengths to find him. A part of him wished she hadn't found him – not that he blamed her in any way or wasn't grateful, for he was. Deeply. But he couldn't help but think that if she'd stayed in Italy, if she hadn't been recalled, that she'd be safer. That Ellie would be safer.
But regardless of whether Sarah had found him, or of whether he had kept his cover, one thing seemed to be absolute: he would always put people in danger. It was hard to believe that he wasn't cursed; everything around him, everything he touched, seemed, one way or another, to end up dead.
He wasn't going to let it happen to Sarah.
Then, as if on cue, she rolled her head towards him, and Chuck could see that she was shivering. Although she was still asleep, she was mumbling something. Chuck leaned in closer to listen.
"Please...please stop," she whispered. "Please don't...no...please."
Oh, god, he thought. She was having another nightmare.
"No, just...keeping walking," she said, a bead of sweat running across her forehead. "No, don't...please...no."
Chuck drew himself closer to her until he was right up against her ear, making sure not to wake her. Then, with any apprehension he might have felt before forgotten, he reached under the covers and took her hand in both of his, squeezing tightly. The grip he got back was fierce.
"Shhh," he said soothingly, tentatively running his other hand through her hair. "Shhh, it's okay. It's okay now, you're safe."
Initially she didn't react, continuing to only shake. But as he kept whispering to her, reassuring that everything was okay, she began to still, her features softening and her scared words starting to dampen.
Chuck allowed his words to gently fade with hers until stopping, when he was sure she had fallen back into a dreamless sleep.
# # #
18th October 2007 [One Day Before Meet]
Baskersville, California
18:00 PST
With the meeting drawing ever closer, Sarah had adopted an overly cautious attitude. That was why it had taken the better part of the day to get to Baskersville; they had taken the back roads, keeping out of sight, away from any main routes or highways that would have gotten them there faster. As per usual, Chuck had driven. She had offered to split the drive with him – she had, after all, ripped open a garage door with a crow bar yesterday, and driving was hardly a step up – but Chuck had declined. Naturally. If she didn't know him better, she might consider his insistence on driving an act of chauvinism. But she did know him better. He didn't know the meaning of the word. Nevertheless, a part of her still ached to get behind the wheel again, even if it was a sluggish old truck.
It had been early when she had woken up, and Chuck had still been asleep. Barely the faintest traces of any dreams had remained, and she felt like she had slept much better than the previous night. Although, she was only half surprised to see her hand was once again joined to Chuck's. Fortunately, she'd managed to detach herself and exit the bed without waking him. However, this wasn't without sneaking in a couple of minutes of lying there, pretending to be asleep. With him. Just to see what it was like.
It had felt nice.
She had briefly considered attempting an early morning run before deciding against it. Much as she was starting to feel up for it physically, being out so early would probably have drawn too much attention – also Chuck would freak if he woke up and she wasn't there. Even asleep, he had still looked painfully tired, and she had felt a brief wave of guilt wash over her; telling Chuck about Ellie had rattled him, scared him even. It may have been better not to tell him that she'd seen her. Though that would be tantamount to lying to him, and she couldn't do that. Not to him.
She let him sleep until well after nine, and even then she still felt bad about waking him. Though whatever worry had been there the night before was immediately gone when his eyes fell on her, replaced by a lazy smile that had sent butterflies straight to her stomach. She'd laughed when he told her that she looked strong enough to pull the ears off a gundark – whatever a gundark was, she hadn't the faintest idea, but she'd laughed anyway. Naturally.
Baskersville turned out to be exactly what Sarah had thought it would be like: a typical small, rural town in the middle of California, where fading agriculture had been replaced by an increased reliance on tourism. This suited them just fine. Unfamiliar faces were to be expected, and no-one paid them a second glance as they had wandered through the centre of town.
Sarah had hooked her right arm onto Chuck's left – for the cover, of course – as they had meandered along recently paved side-walks and back alleys, pretending to be a couple appreciating the old-style architecture and making idle conversation, while really they were scouting for a location to meet Skinnard and marking exit points, should they need to ditch the truck and escape on foot. They had selected a small café just off the main road as the location for the meeting. Several buildings with accessible roofs provided a perfect vantage point of the café, and the area would be busy enough in the morning with congestion to give them some cover, were it needed. Such a small town, of course, had other obvious benefits: law enforcement was little or none, and they had yet to see any signs of it in the hour that they'd been there. All in all, from a tactical standpoint, Sarah was satisfied.
There was just one last thing to do: call Chloe and let Skinnard know about the meeting.
"Are you sure I have to wear this?" Chuck whined from beside her, as they drew up on a rack of payphones outside a convenience store.
Sarah sighed. "Chuck, the make-up's necessary to cover your bruises," she muttered. "Bruises are memorable, remember?"
"I meant the baseball cap and sunglasses," he said. "Don't they just draw more suspicion?"
"Look where we were," Sarah said, gesturing around her. "Wearing a baseball cap here is hardly going to attract attention."
Chuck turned, looking at the other passers by in the street – many in baseballs caps. "Okay, point," he conceded.
She gave him a wry smile before picking up the phone and dialling the number, and Chuck turned his attention to his watch.
The phone had barely rung once before it was answered. "H-Hello?"
"Chloe?" Sarah asked.
"Oh, hi, Sarah," Chloe said. She sounded surprisingly nondescript – even for her."How are you?"
"Good," Sarah answered hurriedly. "Chloe, did you get through to Skinnard?"
There was a long pause.
"Yes, I did," Chloe answered finally. "He's agreed to fly out to Sacramento tonight. Though he's pretty pissed by the sounds of it."
She nodded to Chuck, who gave her a thumbs up in return.
"You need to tell him us at Benny's café in Baskerville tomorrow morning at 9am," she continued. "He'll need to head east along the 16 until -"
"Got it," Chloe interrupted. "I'll forward him the details."
"Okay, good. And, Chloe..." Sarah hesitated, aware that Chuck was watching her. "Thanks. I know this has been a little strange. I owe you one."
"You're welcome," Chloe answered stiffly.
"Thanks again," she said finally.
After hanging up, she glanced over at Chuck, who nodded, reaffirming that the call was too short to be traced – slightly redundant as she'd already informed Chloe of their location. Nevertheless, they weren't going to take any chances, and were going to spend the night in a motel that was five miles out of Baskersville.
"Everything all right?" Chuck asked, as they started the walk back to where they'd parked the truck.
"Yeah, I think so," she said, sub-consciously hooking her arm back under Chuck's, causing him to stiffen.
"Did anything about that phone call seem strange to you?" she asked, biting her tongue.
Chuck shrugged. "I wasn't on it. For that I'd have to ask you."
"True," she said, smiling at him. "It's just that Chloe seemed a bit...off."
"Well, didn't you say that she was a bit special?" Chuck said, looking at her guiltily.
"That's not what I said," she said, smacking his side gently. "I said she had a bit of an eccentric personality. When I spoke to her now, she was very...to the point."
"Maybe she knew you couldn't talk for long," Chuck offered.
"Maybe," she said, not entirely convinced. "It's just whenever I've spoken to her before, even if it's only been for thirty seconds, there's normally at least one sarcastic comment or remark."
"Do you think something could be wrong?"
"I'm not sure," she said as they turned the corner, out of sight of the café. "It's probably just me being paranoid."
# # #
18th October 2007 [One Day Before Meet]
Motel, outside of Baskersville, California
23:07 PST
The rest of the evening was spent continuing to scout Baskersville and going over the logistics for tomorrow, and it was late before they finally drove back out of town to the motel to retire. After a heated discussion, with most of the resistance coming from Chuck, it had been agreed that they would split up, at least initially, for the meeting with Skinnard. Sarah would wait for him in the café, and Chuck would remain across the street, out of the sight, until she gave him the signal it was safe. She had deliberately not told Chloe about Chuck, and bind-siding an assistant director of the CIA with an alleged Ring agent probably wasn't the best way to go about the meeting. She would need to talk to him first.
Sarah had also methodically gone through the small armoury salvaged from the Range Rover that was now stored in the back of the truck. Extensive as it was, discretion was their best tactic and she would only be carrying Panzer's Desert Eagle and a small boot knife with her tomorrow, and despite more reluctance from Chuck, he had also agreed he should be carrying.
There was, however, one thing that still needed to be finalised. Chuck.
After his headache last night, she hadn't pressed him about flashing all day, but they both knew that they needed to go over it, and make sure that he was in fact capable of doing so again. It wasn't until they'd eaten and were back in the motel room that Sarah brought it up.
"How are the headaches?" she asked.
Chuck turned from where he'd been standing at the window, gazing out. "Better," he said, nodding. "They were gone by the morning."
"That's good," she said, smiling at him from the side of the bed. "Are you ready to try again?"
"Sure," he said, returning her smile, though, she could see it didn't quite extend to his eyes.
"What language are we going to try tonight?" he asked, trying to hold his smile as he moved toward to the bed.
"We'll get to that," she said, moving over to make space for him. "Right now it's important that you relax again."
"Yeah," he said with a small chuckle as he crossed his legs. "No pressure about tomorrow or anything..." he mumbled.
Once again, Sarah found herself wondering how Chuck could carry so much self doubt. Despite all the amazing things she'd seen him do, it seemed to be an intransigent part of his character. A part of her felt guilty that she kept comparing him to Bryce, and how many differences and similarities she noticed between the two. Bryce had approached things with this calm confidence that sometimes bordered on arrogance, in complete contrast to Chuck. But as different as they were, they both possessed the same rugged sense of determination to do what was right. That resemblance was scary.
"Chuck," she said, reaching over to take his hand. "Let's not think about tomorrow, okay? Yesterday you managed to flash just fine, and I'm sure you can do it again. Let's just concentrate on the now."
She saw his eyes dart down towards her hand. "Right," he said, quickly looking back up. "Let's do this."
"Okay, so, um, do you want to close your eyes?" she asked, shrugging apologetically.
Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, and Sarah watched he started to try and relax his breathing. Although, she could see that the tension never left his shoulders.
"Slow and deep breaths," she said.
Sarah knew that Chuck was feeling the pressure. Truthfully, she didn't know exactly what else to suggest to him. However much she could encourage him to relax, he was going to be on edge because he knew he was about to flash, and he knew what was at stake if he didn't. Her trick yesterday had caught him off guard, surprisingly so – she was astounded that Chuck hadn't even realised he'd flashed!
Tomorrow he was going to need to flash on the Ring intelligence he had within the Intersect to show Skinnard, or at least prove to some extent of the Intersect's existence. Surely that would be enough to make Skinnard at least willing to listen. After all, he had practically placed blind faith in Bryce's innocence and loyalty when he had recalled her. But as confident as she was in Chuck's ability to flash, Sarah had already had started coming up with a contingency plan were he not able to flash. It involved taking Chuck, and running.
"Slow and deep -"
Then, abruptly, Chuck's eyes burst open, and before she could continue, his eyelids started to flutter.
"Chuck?" she asked hesitantly. "Did you just flash?"
He blinked a couple of times before his jaw dropped, and he was suddenly unable to take his eyes off her.
"Sarah?" he said, sounding more than a little confused. "I think – I think I just flashed on you."
What?
"What?" she exclaimed, suddenly more nervous than she'd been in days. "What do you mean you – you flashed on...me?"
Chuck swallowed. "I just – just had my eyes closed and was thinking that this wasn't going to work, so I opened them and I saw the..." He slowed in his ramble to gesture to the age old small crescent shaped scar on her neck, barely visible after all this time. "And I flashed," he finished.
Sarah felt her fingers ghost over the faded scar. "What did you see?" she asked quietly, already guessing what he going to say. The scar was from her escape. When she'd tripped.
Chuck pressed his hands to his face, as if he were straining to remember – or could not quite believe.
"An old street," he started to say. "In Paris – it was dark, and you were there. In a red coat. And there was someone else...A woman."
Sarah's heart was suddenly in her mouth, beating in time with Chuck's every word.
"She had long, dark hair and..." Chuck abruptly looked up at her. "Sarah...you shot her. You shot her, Sarah. It was your Red Test. I think I flashed on your Red Test."
Her Red Test.
Her Red Test.
Possibly the worst day of her life, and Chuck had flashed on her Red Test.
She didn't need to listen to Chuck's description of that night for a vivid picture was already burnt into her memory. Those events two years ago were so clear she could see them as if they had happened yesterday. Everything. Well, almost everything. The woman's face...She couldn't remember her face. But...
Then the images of her dreams came back to her. The face that had been pursuing her through her dreams of late. It was her. The face that she'd long since blacked out. The same woman. The same nameless woman who she had killed two years ago in Paris. Killed. Assassinated. Executed. Whatever ugly word was used to describe what Graham had ordered her to do. It didn't matter that she almost hadn't been able to go through with it, that she'd only fired when she thought she saw a gun. It was all the same.
Her first.
"Sarah?" Chuck asked tentatively. "Are you okay?"
"Huh? What, no...I'm – yeah, just...wow," she stuttered, the powerful shock of memory catching her words, and making Chuck's voice seem distant.
"There's more," he said suddenly.
"More?" she said, recoiling slightly. "You mean...about my Red Test?"
Chuck looked hesitant.
"Tell me."
"The woman," Chuck said quietly. "Graham told you that she was a traitor. Only she wasn't. She wasn't, and Graham...he knew."
Before Chuck had even finished speaking, she had pushed herself away, off the bed, until she was on her feet.
"No," she said defiantly, continuing to move away from the bed, refusing to believe what Chuck had just said. "No, she couldn't have been. That can't be true. They wouldn't do that. Why would they do that?"
Chuck just sat there, speechless.
"She was innocent," Sarah said, her eyes starting to water as the realisation hit. "She was innocent and I killed her."
Even though her words were barely a whisper, with the speed that Chuck used to practically leap off the bed, she might as well have shouted them.
"Chuck," she said, unable to look straight at him as she found herself back closer and closer to the wall. "Please..."
But he wasn't listening. He had already started to move towards her, stopping at a distance that was probably too close. When she looked up at him, his face wasn't contorted with anger. There was no lingering resentment for what she had done in his expression. Instead his eyes were wide with sympathy.
"This isn't your fault, Sarah. They used you," he said, gently placing a hand on her arm and she immediately felt its warmth. "It's not your fault."
She started to shake her head uncontrollably; she didn't deserve his comfort. "No, Chuck. Don't" she said, as the shaking extended to her whole body. "You should have left me in the desert..."
"Sarah, stop," Chuck said commandingly, placing both hands on her shoulders, holding her steady and effectively forcing her to look at him. When she did, she could see a fiery passion in his eyes, one that she'd never seen before in him. "Don't you ever say that!Listen to me, you are a good person, okay? They used you, and they manipulated you. There's no way you could've known! Your were just following orders. You're not responsible for what happened."
"Chuck," she whispered, conscious that tears were visibly starting to flow, only she no longer cared. "It doesn't matter. The world isn't black and white. I'm still the one that pulled the trigger. I'm still the one that killed her, and I don't even know her name."
Chuck frowned. "Of course it matters," he said, his voice turning suddenly hoarse. "It matters that you care. You may have been the one that pulled the trigger, but Graham or whoever the hell gave the order is the one that really killed her. You are a good person, Sarah, and don't you ever doubt that. Not for one second, okay."
When Chuck finished speaking, he appeared to get control of himself, realising just how close they actually were, turning slightly red. But he didn't step back, his hands still remaining on her shoulders.
It took a few seconds to process what Chuck had actually said. That it wasn't her fault. That she was a good person. The confidence and faith he had in her shocked her to the core, and she didn't know how to respond. For now it seemed enough to distract from the aching numbness growing from within her.
Then, before she knew what she was doing, she had started to move closer to him. She knew she shouldn't be doing this, but she couldn't stop, his words constantly echoing around her head, and she was only able to gaze up into and beyond the brown orbs across from her. Reflexively, his hands started to slip down from her shoulders to her sides, gently grazing her.
"Sarah..." Chuck said, his voice hoarse and barely a whisper.
She didn't respond, continuing only to draw herself closer to him until she could feel his tight breath against her face. She was too close now; there was no backing away, and she didn't want to. In fact, she'd never wanted anything more in her whole life. She titled her head up slightly, allowing her eyes to fall shut, and she could almost feel the trace of his lips gliding over hers when... Nothing.
She opened her eyes, just in time to see that Chuck had moved his head back before suddenly stiffening and pulling her in for a hug, wrapping both his arms tightly around her. She quickly buried her face into his chest, not allowing him to see the signs of the humiliation she now felt that were written all over her face and the tears that were still freely flowing.
She began to scrunch up fistfuls of his shirt. What the hell was wrong with her?
"I'm sorry," Chuck whispered against her ear. "I'm sorry."
"It's my fault," she said quietly into his chest. "I shouldn't have-"
"No it isn't," Chuck interrupted, cutting her off. "None of this is your fault, Sarah." She felt him raise a hand up along her back, idly beginning to stroke her hair. "Believe me, I-I want to. But, I just – You've just been through hell, and it wouldn't be right for me to...I'm sorry."
Surprisingly, Sarah felt the corners of her mouth start to rise – though only by the tiniest amount. His reasoning for rejecting her felt strangely consoling and noble and just, well, Chuck. She felt stupid for thinking that Chuck would go along with it. But he had said that he wanted to.
She didn't want to let this moment end; with Chuck's arms wrapped around her, she felt safe, protected. Letting go meant dealing with the foolishness of her actions. Letting go meant dealing with the reality that she'd killed an unarmed, innocent woman. Letting go meant going back to a world where Chuck was a wanted man.
She wasn't ready.
Not yet.
# # #
19th October 2007
Glendale, California
03:21 PST
On this particular mission, John Casey knew the perks were very few and far between. It was like Afghanistan in that sense, where he had been stationed for the last six months, holed up for day on the side of some godforsaken mountain that no-one state side would have ever heard of or painstakingly trekking through the desert, where one wrong step could blow a man into a million tiny pieces.
But at least there he'd had his own unit for company, and he didn't have to deal with the damned incompetence of the CIA. Cleaning up their screw-ups was not something he particularly enjoyed. But regardless, orders were orders, and a trip to the supposed City of Angels brought him at least one benefit: late night pancakes.
He was just settling down to a stack when his phone rang. He was eating alone, and no-one else was around, so he let out a sigh when he saw the number. Something he rarely did; the number that was calling meant orders.
Pancakes would have to wait.
"Yes, General," he answered.
"Major," came the stiff response that could only belong to Diane Beckman. "I trust I'm not intruding."
"Not at all."
"How is the investigation progressing?" she asked.
The investigation had hardly been progressing at all. Since his man at the FBI had confirmed that it had been Larkin's body in the car and not Bartowski as originally suspected, any leads had dried up. Bartowski was still unaccounted for – the CIA unable to provide any records on him – and another CIA skirt, Sarah Walker, had also disappeared.
"There are a number of leads, General," Casey answered.
"Right," she said, sounding unconvinced. "Although I wasn't calling simply for an update, Major. There's been a development"
"Oh?" Casey asked, intrigued.
"It's filtered through the chain of command," Beckman said. "That the CIA task force in L.A. has a possible location on Bartowski."
"General, how?" Casey said, struggling to contain the irritation in his voice. "I thought I was being kept appraised by the CIA on the ground."
"You know how Agent Shaw operates, Major," Beckman said, sounding disapproving. "He likes to play things pretty close to the chest."
Casey bit back a grunt. He knew all too well how Shaw liked to operate.
"How did the CIA get this information, General?"
"The only thing I'm being told is that Shaw found a lead," Beckman said, clucking her teeth disapprovingly, clearly annoyed that the CIA were keeping her in the dark.
"Where is this location for Bartowski?" he asked.
"Baskerville, near Sacramento. Bartowski's supposedly going to be there tomorrow morning. Shaw's taking his task force up there now."
Casey glanced at his watch. If he left now, he should be able to make it there by the morning. "How would you like me to proceed, General?" he said.
"Go to Baskersville and assist the Shaw in his apprehension of Bartowski," she said. "Oh, and Major? When you get there, make sure you find out just what the hell is going on."
# # #
A/N: Chapter 14 will be sometime soon. Kill Jill V will be Tuesday/Wednesday.