A/N: I'm ALIVEEEEE! heh. took me awhile but i've finally got something to post. This is part 2/3. Please see chapter 4 for part 1.
as always, to lessen the confusion, i've put up a timeline on my profile. Please check it out!
If you are still confused, consider reading my earlier works, both Chuck vs the missing years and long days and nights for further clarification. If that doesn't help, don't feel bummed out. Things aren't supposed to be completely clear until about chpt 9 (yes...i've got quite a few chapters planned. we'll see how motivated i am.)
5. Sarah vs the Mistake
It doesn't really hit Sarah until she sees him. Up until then, the pain only flared when she tugged on her own heartstrings, as if there were really some intangible thread at her heart like a loose fibre on the bottom of a hem that she could pull on whenever she felt she deserved it. And she deserved it.
But when he's standing right in front of her, grin on his face, arms held open in welcome; it hits her like a ton of bricks and the pain is crippling. It's as if the intangible thread has torn away and her heart's ripping at the seams.
"Hey, Sarah," he greets. He raises his brows, expecting her to run into her arms or at least greet him with an embrace of some sort but the most she can handle is a polite nod in his direction. They stand apart, separated by an intangible barrier, whilst other passengers jostled past them in the crowded airport.
"Hi." She clutches the handle of her duffle-bag hard enough to make her knuckles pop. It's hard to imagine that all she has to show after nearly four years in L.A. are a few shirts and fifty dollars in change. Living out of a suitcase, moving from hotel to hotel—
The story of her life.
"How was your flight?" His nonchalance is startling.
Sarah stares and wonders how much their superiors have told. Nothing in his features gives even the slightest insight to the depths of his knowledge. He's the immaculate professional.
"Fine."
He holds out his hand, either to hold hers or her bag, but Sarah declines either way. "I'm fine," she repeats.
The man's face falls a little, but he's not one to give up so easily. Summoning the strength to push onwards, he smiles again. "I've got your new documents. We've got a room set up at the Ritz." He procures a set of car-keys. "Shall we go?"
Sarah dips her head forwards in some semblance of a nod. She doesn't know. Wishes someone else could make the decision for her.
Suddenly everything is so hard. The bag in her hand weighs a ton, every intake of breath is an arduous chore, and she just wants it all to stop.
But this is what she does best. This is how she's survived this long.
Because running is the only way you stay ahead.
Sarah puts a hand to her chest, the ache growing more and more unbearable.
"Sarah?" he calls, already five steps ahead. When he sees her and that expression on her face, he rushes to her side. "Hey...you alright?" His touch is gentle but even that is too much.
She swears if he asks just one more time... Sarah closes her eyes and pushes everything back into the box she's designated for these sorts of things but it's all too much and spilling over the sides. She's a mess.
"I'm fine, Bryce," she snaps and begins to head for the parkade. She doesn't know where his car is and she doesn't care.
So long as she keeps running, nothing can catch up to her.
It doesn't really hit Sarah until she sees him. Until then the waves of longing have only been triggered by the little things like waking to find the other half of the bed cold and vacant or reading the paper and discovering that the daily Sudoku remained untouched.
But when he's standing right in front of her, dressed in his best suit with the most stupefied grin on his face, the realization hits her like a ton of bricks.
"God, I've missed you." She doesn't even wait to hear his response, just grabs him and pulls him into a hungry kiss. He doesn't fight her, but she can sense his hesitation. The way he just lets her take control.
You are in an airport you know. It takes her a minute to come to the realization. They're standing in the arrivals gate of one of the busiest airports on the west coast and they've brought everyone to a standstill. Bodies jostle past them like a stampede of wildebeests, all desperate to make their connections and return to their lives.
He wraps his arms around her to bring them closer, and it melts her heart that he still tries to protect her in any way he can. She kisses him again, and muses to herself what a strange sight they make. She's dressed like a bag lady; billowing dress, Chuck's old sandals and a belly that refuses to hide itself, to pick up one of the country's most brilliant minds. That, and the fact they're both grinning at each other like fools.
"Sarah?" he queries in disbelief , when he finally catches his breath.
She slaps him playfully on the arm. "Who were you expecting?"
"Not you!" he sputters, his arms still wrapped protectively around her. Sarah rolls her eyes. "I told you, I've got someone to drive me to the office."
"Oh him?" she asked with an arch of her brows. Her grin would be wider if her back wasn't killing her; it takes all her effort to hide the grimace. "I told him I'd take care of it."
"Sarah!" Even though she can walk perfectly fine on her own, Chuck insists on helping. "The doctor told you to take things easy. Do you want me to call Ellie because I know she'd be more than happy to keep an eye on you."
Sarah narrows her eyes at the barely veiled threat. "Chuck, you seem to think pregnant is synonymous with disabled." She pushes his arms away and insists on holding just his hand. "I'm perfectly capable of picking you up and taking you to your office."
"But I have someone who can do that—"
"I know."
"But I'm going to be in a meeting all morning—"
"I know."
"And you hate driving during rush hour—"
"Chuck!" She stops and has to seriously fight the urge to keep from slapping some sense into him. "I know. Now are you really going to argue with the mother of your unborn child?"
He takes a moment and looks down at the prominent swell of her belly. Reminded of what should have been fairly obvious, he smiles with irrefutable pride.
"I missed you," he adds sheepishly.
Sarah lets go of his hand, finally allowing him to wrap his arm around her. "I know."
.
Sarah finally sees how pregnancy can change a person. Not so much in the obvious putting on so much weight you have to wear your husband's shoes instead of your own sort of way, though that did come as a surprise, but there are a lot of other things she never expected.
Allowing Chuck to drive her beloved car...enjoying rush hour traffic...what was happening to her? Sitting beside him in the passenger seat, Sarah leans back and hopes the cars remain in a standstill forever. She's content to sit like this all day even if it's not something she can admit.
Chuck puffs his cheeks and rests his head against one hand, the other impatiently tapping the steering wheel.
"You're completely enjoying this, aren't you?" His eyes dart to the endless stream of cars lined up in front of them and then at her.
Sarah grins. "You're not?" she asks, sounding a little hurt.
Chuck shrugs. "Well, I couldn't have asked for better company, but I really can't be late today."
Sarah laughs as she reaches into his briefcase and pulls out the magazine she's seen him carry around for the last few weeks.
"I'm being put to the side for this guy?" she teases, pointing to the man on the cover. In a suit, he was like any other business man she'd seen, only he wasn't. "Worthington Roche." she reads, then flips to the main article. "Entrepreneur. Philanthropist..."
"And richer than King Midas," Chuck adds with a waggle of his brows. "I can't believe he's taken an interest in the company."
Sarah shrugs. She doesn't see why not. The man was an idiot for not taking an interest sooner. "So you're going to leave your loving wife and the mother of your unborn child to entertain some rich old man?"
Chuck winces. "Sarah, you know if I had my choice—"
"Chuck—" She laughs as she skims the article. "I'm kidding. It sounds like fun. Where are you going to take him?"
"I don't know, his wife is tagging along with us. I'm going to have to chauffeur a pair of old folks around town." He smiled at her, his eyes bright with mischief. "You think they'd be offended if I just took them down to the park?"
"I doubt they'd be as amused as Will," Sarah said. An image of the little boy chasing after a swarm of ducks suddenly came to mind. "There isn't a picture of them together, what does she look like?"
Chuck suppressed a laugh. "Why? You think there's a chance she might be anywhere near as beautiful as you?"
Sarah whacked him on the arm with the magazine. "Ah, practicing for Worthington Roche I see. Very good."
He sticks his tongue out at her. "What do you think of the name?"
"Worthington?" Sarah looks out the window to hide the face she's making. "It's...alright." It's a pretentious name for a pretentious man.
Chuck smiles deviously beside her. "You'd be okay with Worthington Bartowski?"
The idea nearly gives her a heart attack. "You wouldn't dare," she threatens, clutching her belly.
Chuck shrugs nonchalantly. "You said if it was a boy I could choose the name."
Damn it. She knew that was going to come back to haunt her.
Sarah smiles. "I was thinking Chuck Bartowski."
Her intentions cause him to do a double take. "For a girl?" he asks, wrinkling his brows.
Sarah's expression doesn't fade. "Is that a problem?" She raises her chin just the slightest at the unspoken challenge.
Returning his attention to the road, Chuck just shakes his head. "Not if you don't have a problem with Worthington Bartowski."
Sarah bursts out in laughter. Poor baby, she thinks as she rubs her belly. She knows Chuck is only kidding, but she's not entirely sure she is.
Night falls and Sarah lies in bed, trapped by her thoughts. She doesn't sleep well in strange places. The man sleeping beside her is no stranger, but he's not the one she needs or wants.
It's one of the worst kept secrets in the agency. Fact: despite all the glossy education and training an agent undergoes, ninety-five percent of the time they will still act on instinct. Almost makes the—government-paid, countless training hours spent—five percent seem trivial.
Sarah relied on that ninety-five percent though. It told her right from wrong, yes from no; and drew the line between life and death.
So when it told her to run, run before it hurt too much, run before she got too close, before she made another mistake, she listened without a thought.
Proof you're an idiot.
This was a first. Her conscience was perpetually in agent mode. Perpetually professional. Perpetually anti-long-term-plans.
Doesn't mean you're any less of an idiot.
Sarah ended the argument early when she felt the mattress shift and Bryce turn to face her.
"You're not asleep, are you?" It wasn't so much a question as it was an accusation.
When she doesn't respond, he draws nearer, much to her chagrin. "Jesus, Sarah, you're lying stiffer than a corpse."
His words had the opposite effect though and it only made her cling to the sheets all the tighter.
"What do you want?" she hissed, refusing to turn her head.
"Sarah..." his voice softened as he reached for her. "Sarah, come on. You can talk to me."
His hands were hot to the touch and they felt like a breath of life against her frozen body. Sarah shut her eyes. Her limbs loosened as she recalled the rare nights Chuck and her had to themselves. The man was like a furnace, which suited her just fine. She liked having the blanket all to herself, and she loved sleeping snuggled against—
Sarah opened her eyes, only to realize her lips were inches from Bryce's. Even in the night, she could see his blue eyes dark with desire.
"You just want to talk, huh?" she asked, grabbing his hands and flinging them back to his side of the bed. Snatching a handful of the sheets, she dragged them across to her side of the bed and turned with her back to him.
Her thoughts were a mess. What had once been a pleasant memory had now become tainted with the sin of another.
"You should have asked for a break," he said with a loud sigh. "Get your head back in the game."
"I never left," Sarah growled, clenching her fists on the thin fabric.
He snorted. "You've been sitting around for four years. You're bound to be out of touch."
Just for that, Sarah had the sudden urge to pull out one of her knives. "Perhaps you'd like to volunteer to be my target for practice," she said wryly.
It was enough to get a chuckle out of him. "Just saying, Sarah. Four years is a lot of time."
She could feel his eyes on her, gazing at her still form under the dim ambience of the moonlight. She knew what he was going to say before he even said the words.
Words she had fallen prey to once before, not so long ago.
I've missed you.
I've never stopped thinking about you.
But now they felt flat and inconsequential, and she was barely affected by them at all.
"Stare all you want, Bryce, but might I remind you..." Sarah turned, sheets still pressed tight to her body, as she looked him straight in the eye. "This arrangement is strictly professional."
The corners of his lips curled into a twisted smile. "Since when have you been professional?"
The accusation stung. Sarah sat up, the sheets falling to the bed as she exposed her thinly covered self to the cold night air. Chills shot through her as she was bombarded with images of the two men she's intimately shared herself with; Chuck, and then Bryce, a contrast between day and night.
"I'm sorry."
Sarah knew he was being genuine but the words were already out there and there was no taking them back.
"Sarah?" Bryce sat up and tried to take her arm, to coax her back to bed, but it was too much. "Hey, it's okay. People make mistakes."
The statement gives her pause.
"You're right," she said, distancing herself as far from him as possible. She took up a post in a vacant armchair on the opposite side of the room, curling up into a ball in the seat.
As much as she wanted to deny it, pretend like it wasn't true, she knew he was right.
"This is a mistake."
Sarah returns home, eats ice-cream in bed while watching TV, and promptly forgets her morning conversation with Chuck. She drifts off after an hour of infomercials and only wakes when Ellie calls to make sure she's adhering to her bedrest, no doubt spurred on by Chuck.
Out of habit she heads for Chuck's office, and only realizes her mistake when she's already in the lobby, ten minutes shy of the noon hour.
"Oh, Mrs. Bartowski, he's with Mr. Roche at the moment," Marie, the receptionist, informs with an apologetic smile. "Shall I leave a message?"
Sarah flushes with embarrassment. How could she have forgotten? No wonder he wasn't picking up his phone.
"No, I don't want to be a bother—"
The young girl laughs. "I'm sure he would never think that," she says. Sarah smiles at the encouragement. "He should be back soon. Why don't you take a seat?"
Sarah looks over her shoulder, and realizes much to her own relief, that she's not the only one waiting in the lobby.
She takes a seat beside the other woman and tries not to stare. It's hard for her to believe that only a few months ago, she too had been that thin.
When she feels a kick in her side, Sarah rubs her belly, trying to ease away the guilty thought. She couldn't, not completely anyway, not when she felt completely out of her element. Chuck may still be blinded by love but the strangers on the street were not and she had received a fair share of stares already just on the short walk to the office building.
The woman remains engrossed in the magazine. Sarah tilts her head to view the cover, finally realizing why it was all so familiar to her. She's read it enough times to have the article memorized.
The stranger finally glances at her. She's young and pretty, but she has no hope of fitting in at the office. Her nails alone prove she's not the type to sit in front of a computer. Sarah wrinkles her brows. Did Morgan have a new girlfriend she wasn't aware of?
"Aren't you making a huge mistake?" she asks, her voice decidedly condescending.
Of all the questions to ask, Sarah has no idea why the woman would choose this to make her introduction.
"Uh, I don't know what you mean."
The woman shrugs. "Well what happens if your water breaks? That would be so faux pas."
"Uh..." Sarah's so taken aback she doesn't even know where to begin. As if Chuck would care what happened to the carpets. "That would be the last of my worries then, wouldn't it?"
In response, the woman slides her seat slightly away, as if pregnancy were something contagious.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to go into labour," Sarah reassures, all the while trying to keep her calm. The doctor's already warned her that fifty percent of a child's personality was genetic.
Yeah, right. Good luck with that.
"How would you know?" the woman asks, giving her a dubious lookover.
As if you would know any better. Sarah knows what she's not saying though. She's gotten it half a dozen times, and even though Chuck and Ellie and even the doctor has assured her she's attracting all this attention because she's so naturally thin, it doesn't make the fact any easier to swallow.
Yes, I'm huge. Let's get over it shall we?
"It's a good article," she deflects. The woman doesn't understand until Sarah points to the magazine in her hand. "Nice feature," she adds.
Distracted, the woman looks down at the item in her hand. She flips to the front page and smiles with approval.
"Handsome, isn't he?" she asks. It's only a statement, but Sarah wonders if it's a mistake to put Chuck in the spotlight. "Usually the good ones aren't good looking, if you know what I mean, but I dare say Charles Bartowski's the complete package."
Sarah grits her teeth. She should have warned Chuck not to smile like that for the cover. She still remembers the day it was taken. She had stood stubbornly behind the cameraman while Chuck begged for a photo of them together. With her belly still prominent despite an oversized sweater and a shawl, her hair in a messy ponytail and her swollen feet in a pair of his sandals; she did everything in her power to refuse, barely thwarting the infamous Bartowski puppy eyes. Thank God. Who knows what the woman would think if it had been a picture of them on the cover.
"Well, you know what they say," Sarah said, trying to be pleasant. "All the good ones are taken."
The woman looks at her curiously, then nodded. "I suppose you're right." She smiles smugly as she holds up her left hand, the diamond on her ring finger so large it was a wonder her hand could fit inside her bag. "Although it's always nice to trade up, isn't it?"
Sarah took a second, but there was no denying the facts. This woman didn't belong here.
"Mrs. Roche."
The woman smiled, delighted to be recognized. "It's Strattford-Roche, actually," she corrects, though the name held no distinction for Sarah. "And you are?"
Sarah holds out her empty hand and shakes the woman's. "Mrs. Bartowski." She knows the woman doesn't believe her so she pulls on the chain around her neck, flashing a wedding band and engagement ring now too small for her swollen fingers.
"Huh." It's not the sound of someone faced with defeat. "You're not what I expected."
Sarah tilts her head. She wonders how much longer she can play nice for. Chuck needs this but holding a conversation with the woman was like hugging a porcupine. Painfully unpleasant.
"You're not exactly what I expected either," she responds with a polite smile.
The comment causes the woman to break out in laughter. "Oh please, did you really think someone like my husband would be happy with an older woman? I'm going to take what I can while I can." She paused and shook her head sadly at Sarah. "You should too."
Sarah doesn't even wait to ponder the thought. "Chuck wouldn't," she said, jumping to his defence.
Wouldn't what?
Sarah's not sure what the woman means but she knows it's nothing good.
The woman shrugs. "Well you're still young. But trust me, he'll get tired. Men always do."
"Not Chuck." She starts to feel a kick and it festers into something nearly unpleasant. Sarah takes a deep breath and rubs her belly, trying to calm the baby down. She tries to think about something nice but her mind won't let her.
"And that's your first mistake," the woman says. She can't be much older than Sarah but she speaks as if she's well beyond her years. Her gaze shifts to that Sarah's bulging midsection. "You're naive if you think he'll love you forever. Love is just a fix. You're making a huge mistake."
Before Sarah can even launch an attack, the woman cuts her off.
"Whether you like it or not, you are ruining your best commodity. Sure he loves you now, but what about five years down the road ? Ten years down the road?" She shakes her head. "Nothing messes you up faster than having a baby."
Sarah leans back in her seat. The woman's lucky she no longer carries knives on her, otherwise they would have already found their acquired target.
But something begins to build atop the initial anger, and suddenly she finds it difficult to swallow. She's had guns pointed millimetres from her head and crawled out of burning wreckages but nothing scares her more than what the woman is saying.
There are only half a dozen people Sarah could say she's ever truly loved, but Chuck...Chuck was the only person who knew the real her, the only person she's ever really allowed in. He meant the world to her and though she never imagined herself to be the clingy or needy type, she didn't think she could live without him for longer than three days much less forever.
Sarah looks down at herself and can't help but feel a little horrified with the changes to her body. She wonders if Chuck will ever look at her the same way, wonders if the woman's right. What had been a silly notion ten seconds ago was no longer. The woman wasn't speaking to spite her, it was the truth. Worthington Roche was not the only man who traded up and his current wife was certainly not going to be his last.
If Sarah's work had taught her anything, it was the value of her body. A look, a smile, and everything could go your way. She wasn't blind to the way women looked at her husband, and she was certainly aware that Chuck in his well-meaning manner had a habit of sending the wrong message.
"I assume you and Mr. Roche don't have children," Sarah finally said, when the silence became too difficult to keep.
"Oh, no, of course not." The woman made a face, as if children were some vile disease or affliction upon society. "Although I can't say I haven't thought about it." If there was even a glimmer of humanity in the woman's calculating eyes, it faded once she opened her mouth again. "Child support and alimony rulings are quite generous in California."
The woman stared down at her belly. "Did you plan this?"
Sarah flushed red. "Pardon?" The woman must mean the pregnancy, but she'd never heard of a woman who thought of how much money she'd bleed from her significant other before conceiving. "No. But we wanted kids."
The woman nodded slowly. Sarah knew that look. She was thinking how Sarah had just proven her right.
"Hey, it's okay. People make mistakes." For the first time, Sarah saw the woman smile. "As long as you don't make them again, that's fine. You've learned."
Sarah took a long and careful deep breath. "You're wrong." She couldn't even back up her statement. She had no idea where to even begin. "You are wrong on so many levels. And so help me, when I no longer have to be calm for my baby's sake, you better hope you're not in my way."
The woman smiled again. It was an ominous expression, as if she knew so much more than she let on.
"It would be a shame if we couldn't get along, Mrs. Bartowski. I understand your husband was so looking forwards to collaborating with mine."
Sarah gritted her teeth. She placed a hand over her belly just in case but the baby wasn't complaining. "Do not threaten me," she warned, baring her teeth.
She knew she was losing her touch, but gauging by the look of fear that flickered in the woman's eyes, she knew she hadn't lost all of it. "That is one mistake you will regret."
Sarah thought things would only get easier with time but she was wrong. This was worse than breaking every bone in your body—at least then there was some hope of recovery. When it was something intangible with no name to its affliction, there was nothing to be done.
Even after several months, Sarah still felt out of her element. She used to relish in being a part of something greater, but with each mission she only felt her grasp on the real world drift further and further away. She was drowning in the sea of humanity, and there was no one to pull her back...remind her of who she was.
.
It's only an hour before she's to be at the function but her mind has already wandered off without her. Bryce is no longer kidding when he says she needs to 'get her head in the game' and though she's never failed to deliver on her end, the line is being drawn closer and closer.
"Sarah."
Bryce finishes with his cuff-links as he steps out of the bathroom to greet her. He's got his bowtie perfectly knotted and his suit stiffly pressed. He looks every part the wealthy patron to this evening's gala.
"Sarah, did you hear me?"
Sarah stirs and forgets what she was about to do next. She's got a tube of mascara clutched in one hand and a powder case in the other.
"Yeah, sure," she says, putting both aside. She smoothes her hair and thinks that it will do. There's no point to putting in the extra effort; without anyone to please the minimum has become the standard.
"Sarah—"
"We're leaving in five. My gear's packed." It's a lucky guess but Bryce isn't satisfied.
"You are—"
"Mrs. Anderson, married to Mr. Anderson, financier and hedge-fund manager." She turns to look at him. "Yeah, I got it."
Bryce takes a deep breath. "Fine," he says, even though he sounds less than pleased. "Good. As long as we're clear."
Sarah stares back at the reflection in the dresser mirror. There's nothing captivating about the person staring back, and without him to remind her, she no longer remembers what it feels to be someone special.
Now she was just ordinary. Someone who could blend into the crowd tonight.
Useful, but not what she needs.
"Do you think he's okay?" She realizes it's a mistake when she catches Bryce's look of annoyance in the corner of the reflection.
He doesn't ask who. He doesn't have to.
"Yeah." Bryce shrugs. "Why wouldn't he?"
Sarah turns away from the mirror and only allows the chilly night air to view her disappointed expression.
"I don't know." She shrugs but the facade of nonchalance is pitiful. "Chuck's sensitive. I shouldn't have left the way I did."
She hears a scoff behind her. "Don't give yourself too much credit." Always the professional, Bryce maintains his objectivity. She bristles at the rude awakening and the man catches himself seconds too late. "I mean, you did what you had to. You did the right thing."
Sarah sighed. Then why, after all these months, did it still feel so wrong?
"I saw what happened to him after Jill," she said. She tried not to imagine what must have passed through Chuck's mind when he woke in the hospital bed to find her missing. If her own turmoil was any indication, she didn't want to imagine how deeply she'd hurt him.
Always the overachiever, Sarah had outdone herself this time. Forget Jill. The mantle was all hers now.
"Give it a few years."
Sarah clutched her chest, grimacing to keep her emotions contained. "W-what?"
"Give it a few years," Bryce repeated. "He'll forget you and find someone else."
Bryce wasn't speaking to be cruel; he was just telling the truth. All things ease with time and like Jill, in five years time she will have faded into the past. He'll have a new home, new job...new love.
"Yeah?" she asked, holding back her tears. There would be a time for them later but now she had a job to do. It was all she had left and she couldn't lose it too.
Bryce nodded confidently. "Yeah." He pointed to the door. "Ready?"
Sarah stared at him. How wonderful life must be on the other side, where rational thought and objectivity ruled all. She sighed as she rose from her seat and slipped on her coat, pushing back any last remaining thoughts of a life that was no longer hers.
She knew she could never go back; it wouldn't be fair to take everything from him twice. This was a path that could never be retraced, and as she felt the last strands of hope slip through her fingers, she knew she had no one to blame but herself.
Sarah hears Chuck before she sees him. She knows the sound of his shoes and his gait all too well.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he cries, his voice echoing down the hallway. "So sorry I kept you waiting!"
Beside her, Mrs. Strattford-Roche collects her bag and stands to her feet. "Finally," she murmurs under her breath.
Sarah remains in her seat. She knows Chuck has to spend the rest of the day pandering to the couple, and it's more than she has the stomach for. Tagging along is out of the question, all she wants right now is Chuck, a nap, and a bowl of ice-cream.
"I'm so sorry, I lost track of the time." Chuck finally appears, and in three quick strides covers the space between the door and the lobby seats.
Sarah looks up and sees that he's a little more frazzled than this morning. His tie is crooked and his hair is adorably awry, no doubt a consequence of several hours in the meeting room, but his eyes are every bit as lively and warm as she remembers them.
"I'm so sorry!"
"It's fine, Mr. Bartowski." Mrs. Roche steps forwards to take his hand but he steps obliviously past her and kneels at Sarah's side.
"I'm so sorry; I had my phone on silent."
It takes Sarah a moment to realize what's happened. That this whole time he's been apologizing to her and not to the woman he's kept waiting.
"Oh..." She's at a loss for words. Then Sarah sneaks a glance at the other woman and she feels a swell of love for her husband. She chastises herself for even thinking he could disappoint her.
Sarah wants to take all of the woman's words and shove them back down her throat but she takes the high road and focuses on her husband instead. So this is what it must feel like, when good triumphs over evil.
"It was my mistake, I forgot you had a meeting," she said.
Chuck's worries are not so easily placated and Sarah feels slightly guilty for not leaving a message.
"Are you hungry? Do you want to come out for lunch with us?"
Sarah looks over at the woman and the man she presumed to be Worthington Roche though he was much shorter and thinner than she envisioned from the magazine. The woman stood as rigid as a statue beside her husband; there was a probably a clause about proximity in their pre-nuptials.
"No, I think I'll pass." She fakes a smile, but she knows it's as far as she can go. As much as she's missed Chuck, she's not up to the task of charming these two and enduring an entire afternoon in their presence.
"No?" Chuck's expression falls. "Okay, do you want me to take you home?"
Yes.
Sarah shakes her head. "I brought my own car, silly. How many times do I have to remind you that I'm not an invalid."
Chuck shrugs sheepishly. "Do you want me to get lunch with you? Make lunch for you?"
Yes. Yes.
Sarah bites her lip. "No. I'm fine. Ellie's already brought over a million things."
Chuck's hand lingers over her belly and he chews his lip, fraught with indecision. "Do you need me to pick up anything? Do you want me to call Ellie to visit after her shift?"
"Chuck. Go." She gives him a push in their direction.
Towards the woman and her money-hungry eyes.
He takes half a step before looking over his shoulder. "Last chance?"
"I'll be fine."
Please don't leave.
Sarah doesn't say anything though. She knows how badly he wants this; how badly everyone at the office wants this.
He's given her enough chances, and even someone as doggedly determined as Chuck knows his limit. When he finally leaves, she has no one else to blame but herself.
Sarah lies in bed, flipping aimlessly through the channels. There are only four but she keeps cycling through them on the inordinately small chance that, by happenstance, something interesting will pop on the screen.
They've downgraded to a seedy little motel for their new covers, and the TV should have been scrapped for parts years ago, but it still beats doing anything else.
Bryce had gone down to the local bar; she had the night to herself and this was how she was spending it.
"Come on. It could be fun..." he'd said, but she declined.
"We could pull a fast one on them when they're not looking"...but still no. Sarah wasn't interested. She longed for a bed to call her own, a home that was hers—
Burned that bridge a long time ago.
Sarah turned off the TV and tossed the remote out of reach. She pulled the sheet over herself and closed her eyes, hoping for some sort of escape.
But all she could think about was a man thousands of miles away living his life without her. And despite every justification she'd given herself these last few months, none of it amounted to anything more than her own selfishness. She was scared. She had to leave. Her. Her. Her.
Suddenly there was a buzzing against her ear. It took her a moment to realize what it was. Sarah groaned as she reached under her pillow for the phone. Bryce had likely bit off more than he could chew trying to con some of the locals.
"Hello?" she groaned, her eyes still firmly shut.
"Walker."
Sarah shot out of bed, instinctively reaching for her gun. She recognizes the voice, knows it as she knows the voice of all her former partners, but that isn't what chills her.
It's the fact he's called at all.
That he somehow found her number.
That tone in his voice.
"You need to get back here."
All of a sudden, she's lost the ability to breathe. She gasps on the oxygen that once sustained her and presses the phone so tightly against her ear she can barely hear over her own galloping heart.
"What's happened?" she chokes. "Is he alright?"
He doesn't answer her. "Just get back here," he says and then the line ends.
Sarah lets the phone drop out of her hand. She stands up but it's too fast and the room starts to spin around her.
This has to be a mistake.
This can't be happening.
She dives for her phone and frantically presses the numbers she's had memorized for years. Nothing. Not even a dial tone. Tears begin to blur her vision as she punches in his sister's number, only to stop—
She couldn't. The woman would never tell her anything. She wasn't to be trusted. She wasn't family.
Sarah sinks to the floor, trying to ward off the demons of infinite possibilities. Infinite scenarios that all ends the same way.
He wouldn't call unless...unless...
She chokes back the torrent of tears that threatens to fall.
No.
This has to be a mistake.
This can't be happening.
But this is and it is, and Sarah finally realizes the magnitude of her mistake. The trouble was, she'd run so far ahead she didn't know how to turn back.
Propped against a whole host of pillows with ice cream bowl in hand, Sarah watches an exercise program hosted by some pretty twenty-something in tight spandex shorts. She thinks wryly to herself that she had been like that, once.
Suddenly she recalls her conversation with the ever pleasant Mrs. Roche and not even the confectionary in her hand is enough to take away the bitterness of the experience.
"What a cow," she says as she switches the channel. She rubs her belly and chooses to read into the next kick as a show of agreement. It's enough to make her glow with pride. Suddenly inheriting fifty percent from her doesn't seem like such a bad idea.
The phone rings and Sarah digs through the sea of blankets on the bed to find what she's looking for.
"Miss me already?" she teases as she puts the phone to her ear. She knows she's only speaking her mind, but a little part of her hopes for some reciprocation.
"Missed you from the second I walked through the door."
Sarah laughs. He may not be the most eloquent with words, but he does know exactly what to say. "Good answer."
"What are you doing?" She doesn't know why but his voice sounds strange, like it is both loud and quiet at the same time. "Are you watching TV?"
Sarah shakes her head as she lowers the volume. "No, of course not. I'm not like you, Chuck, I don't worship the idiot box." He laughs again, and she's sure that there's an echo. "How's lunch?"
"I don't know. Good I hope."
Sarah wrinkles her brows. "Why? Where are you?"
She hears him laugh again. "I'm here."
Before she can ask him where exactly, he peeks his head into the bedroom and she's greeted with a pair of the sweetest brown eyes.
"Hey." He ends the call and walks over to her, handing her a brown bag before shrugging off his suit jacket.
Sarah's too shocked for words. She clutches the bag but doesn't have the sense to look inside. All she can do is stare as Chuck loosens his tie, throws off his shoes and crawls into the mess of sheets.
It's been three days since they've shared a bed together but when he snuggles up against her, it's as if he's never been gone. Everything is right with the world again.
"Hey," she finally says and restrains herself from smothering him in a kiss. They manage something a little more tender, a little more chaste, and at the end of it, Chuck grins.
"Ice cream, huh?" he asks, tasting her lips again. "I was wondering why there was none left in the freezer."
She slaps him on the shoulder. "It's the baby," she blames. "Has nothing to do with me."
He kisses her again. "I'm sure," he says, suppressing a laugh. "I got you something, open the bag."
There's simply too much sparkle in his eyes for it to be something ordinary. Sarah watched his expression carefully as she unfolded the top of the brown bag and peeked inside.
The smell hits her instantly.
"Bacon?" She might as well have screamed diamonds by the way she rummaged through the bag. Digging down to the bottom, she pulls out a cardboard take-out box laden with crisp, glistening strips.
Chuck's grin widens. "I heard it goes well with ice-cream," he says, his brows furrowing together. He makes a face as she grabs a strip and dips it into the half-melted bowl of frozen dessert.
"It does," she says as she languishes over the first bite. It's heavenly. She hands him the half-eaten piece. "Do you want to try?"
Chuck only pats her belly and shakes his head. "It's all yours."
Sarah knows her reaction is disproportionate with the object at hand but Chuck's gesture brings her to the brink of tears.
"Sarah, honey, it's just bacon," he says, rubbing her shoulders.
Sarah shakes her head. "What about your lunch? How could you just leave them like that?"
Chuck shrugs. "I've got Morgan to take care of it."
It's not much for consolation.
"Hey, Sarah..." Chuck wrapped his arms around her, trying to keep her from a potential outburst. "It's not a big deal."
"Not a big deal?" she repeated. "Chuck, you went on about that man for weeks. Next to the baby I haven't seen you so excited about anything before."
"Hey!" He looks slightly offended by the accusation. "That's not true." Accustomed to wiping away her tears, he used his thumbs to brush away the crumbs from her cheeks instead. "Yeah, I was excited about the funding and being able to provide for my family, but then I realized we could get by just fine without him."
Sarah leaned on his shoulder. She knew her husband better than that.
"You didn't like him, did you?"
Chuck made a half-hearted attempt to cover up but in the end he simply shook his head. "I have this hypothesis. The more money you make the bigger of a jerk you become."
He smiled as he hugged her close. "Plus his wife wasn't a very pleasant woman."
Sarah arched her brows. "I'm surprised. I thought she'd be all over you."
"Ha..." He laughed nervously, and Sarah realized she was right on the mark about that one. "Well I pay my receptionist for more than just answering a few phone calls, you know."
Sarah's smile fell as she recalled the regrettable conversation.
"Hey..." he coaxed, drawing her chin so she would meet his gaze. "You shouldn't have listened to any of that garbage." His arms wrapped around her and ended hands clasped over the hill of her midsection. "I give you full permission to knock out her veneers next time."
Sarah laughed. "As if I need your permission," she informed. "I thought really you needed this."
Chuck pressed his forehead gently against hers and gazed deep into her eyes. "Yeah, I thought so too. But I was wrong. There's only you, Sarah. You and our baby."
He could be so unbearably kind sometimes, enough to make her feel like the most undeserving woman that ever lived.
The first thing that came to mind were tears. Chuck's face paled in panic and he rushed to wipe them away but Sarah had quicker reflexes.
"It's just hormones," she said, sniffing quickly. It was more than that though. Nothing in her life had ever made sense until she met Chuck. Some people searched their whole lifetime for the one to complete them, and Sarah had the senselessness to run in the opposite direction.
Call it what you will, but Sarah knew she would never know another love like this. This was it. He was it.
She stared at him, wondering how he ever found the patience; how he could have had the foresight to know that this would be them someday.
Oh, Chuck...
He'd fought so hard for them, and she had dragged her heels every inch of the way.
As if reading her thoughts, Chuck just smiled. "I know," he said, and she felt like he really, truly, did.