A/N: Okay, chapter nine is finally here after much hemming and hawing. I had so much trouble with the direction of this chapter. thanks a million aardvark, you picked out the issues i spent days trying to figure out on my own. Hopefully this version is an improvement.
Thank you everyone who voted on my profile, i really appreciated it. I won't close the poll but i don't intend to update it with the new chapters. They'll be in a second set (and the magic number is.....14!) and i'll set that up when i'm done the series. For those who haven't voted, please check out the poll on my profile for the favorite chapter of "then and now". Sarah vs the Return (Ch. 7) was not favorited by any of you which is too bad because it's going to be HUGE (do i hear groans?) in the upcoming chapters. You might even have to re-read it.
As always, check out my profile for a time-line of the chapters. Reading my two previous works may be a pre-req, but they're not so bad are they?
Chapter 9: Chuck/Sarah vs the Birthday
Sarah isn't so sure it's a good idea when Chuck announces that he's coming over. It's already late, they're both tired from pulling double-time on their jobs, real and fake, and she doesn't have the strength to fight this uphill battle anymore.
Because a part of her wants this, has always wanted this, and there is only so much her rational mind can do to keep them apart.
He arrives at the door in the same clothes she last saw him in, his hair just as awry as she remembered from the nap hours earlier in the van. One of the few times he's actually stayed in the car.
"Hey." He leans in for a kiss and her first reflex is to flinch and turn her head to the side. Sarah steels her body to stand still just long enough to allow him to carry through, but he senses the tension and pulls away quickly with an apologetic look on his face.
"Right, I'm sorry," he says, shoving one hand into his pocket. His other is hampered by the brown-bag he holds. "I couldn't help myself. It was just instinct, I wasn't thinking—"
He shouldn't have to apologize for kissing his girlfriend, that wasn't something normal boyfriends did. And much to Sarah's dismay, she realized they would never be normal. Not when half of her still struggled in vain to keep them apart.
"No!" she blurts. She says it forcefully for her own sake but Chuck flinches anyway. He doesn't understand. She has to be strong, it's the only way she can shut away the nagging voice in her head.
Without warning she grabs him and pulls him into a long, drawn out kiss, all the while trying to reassure herself that this was the way a normal girlfriend behaved.
But it wasn't.
Not like this.
Their embraces were always too frantic, too desperate; like all they had were a few seconds before they woke from their respective dreams.
Sarah couldn't keep doing this—giving herself and him this hope only to dash it seconds later by pulling back. Instinct told her this was wrong. That she needed to run; to get out of here before someone got hurt. But every time she thought about it (and she has, countless times), she remembered one thing.
He made her feel—it wasn't something any string of words could ever describe; the feeling was surreal and yet completely, wholeheartedly...real. And no matter how much it frightened her, she just couldn't let that go.
Sarah pulls away finally and hastily wipes her lips, trying to hide any evidence of their unprofessional behaviour. Chuck stares at her like a deer in headlights, coughing on his own breath.
She closes the door behind him and locks it, trying to keep the blush from creeping to her cheeks. "Sorry. I don't know what got over me either. I wasn't thinking."
Chuck just stares and it makes it even harder for her to face him when he looks at her that way. She doesn't know how he still can when she hasn't even taken a shower after the kind of day they've had.
"You wanted to see me?" she prompts and gestures to the freshly made bed. She doesn't know what she'd do without housekeeping. Living out of hotels has made her incapable of being domestic.
Also not normal.
"Yeah. Yeah I did." Chuck settles down on the edge of the large bed and she climbs over the sheets to sit beside him. "I got you something."
Sarah's caught by opposing forces and her immediate reaction is to give a neutral response.
"Oh."
It's not the reaction Chuck's waiting for, and he looks at her warily, like he's not sure if he should continue.
A part of her wants to smile and bask in the fact he's thought of her, and the other dreads the further blurring of the lines between her professional and otherwise relationship with him.
Because words were one thing, but following through on them was another.
"Oh Chuck, you shouldn't have..." she said. She began to worry as his hand reached into the brown bag. She knew how pitiful his salary at the Buy-More was, knew how little he had left after splurging on his sister's wedding gift—
Then she saw the item in his hand.
Chuck laughed at her reaction. "Not diamonds, Sarah, I'm sorry," he said as he handed the clear plastic container over to her.
She takes it and examines the contents, unsure how to react. "Try it. Double-chocolate, your favourite."
Sarah was doubly embarrassed; first that Chuck could tell she'd been expecting something else, and second at herself for even thinking that far.
"Thank you," she said, and she meant it. Chuck always knew how to make her smile, even when she didn't think she could. And right now, a chocolate cupcake with dark chocolate buttercream icing was exactly what she needed.
Chuck laughed nervously as he tried to meet her gaze. "Happy birthday."
Sarah has to use every shred of her training not to freeze up or stare. She tries to swallow but her throat is suddenly as dry as a cottonball. "I...I thought you gave up on that," she said after a long awkward silence.
Chuck smiled. "You know I'm too broke to play the guessing game every day, but I figured I'd give it a try every now and then." He looks at her expectantly, and then his expression falls. "Even if it's your birthday, you'd never tell me, right?"
Sarah shakes her head. Lying to him would be cruel, and she's already cruel enough.
You can't keep giving hope to someone only to quash it seconds later. Sarah sighed. No. And Chuck wasn't the only one hurting when she did.
Chuck's shoulders slump in disappointment but he smiles anyway. "Guess I'll just keep guessing."
Sarah holds her tongue. She wants to ask what is the point, but then she stares down at her gift and thinks better of it. One of these days he'll tire of the one-sidedness, and once he's given her everything he has, there will be nothing left for her to take.
"It's okay," he said. "Don't worry about it."
Suddenly aware of how she's projecting herself, Sarah sits up straight, trying to hide behind a new mask. Had she become that easy to read?
He looks at her with such a frank expression of his feelings that she feels like a coward for always hiding behind an excuse. She opens her mouth to explain why things had to be this way, but stopped herself at the last second. She was beginning to sound like a broken record.
He knows anyway, that's why he's already forgiven her.
"I just wish I knew..." he said. "So we could celebrate it."
Sarah wrinkled her brows. Sometimes she couldn't understand his fixations.
"Why would you want to do that?"
"Because it's important." He looks at her strangely, as if he shouldn't have to explain what should be so obvious. "It's the one day where everyone you love shows how much they love you. Just you."
Sarah takes a deep breath and sighs. "I don't celebrate birthdays," she said flatly.
Chuck stared at her with those soulful brown eyes, and when she met his gaze, she knew she was done for. The corners of his lips curled into a smile, and she knew that he knew it was all just a front. He didn't buy the hard-lipped, tough-girl act any more than she bought his Casey-esque impersonations.
He spares her her pride though. Chuck's never been the confrontational type. He just sighs and agrees with her, even though both know it's only another lie.
"Yeah. I know." He takes her hand and squeezes it for affirmation. "There's something else you should know."
Sarah holds her breath. She senses they're about to enter dangerous waters again and her first instinct is to pull away.
She doesn't though. The rational part of her could nag all it wanted but the rest of her followed Chuck's lead, and she found herself squeezing his hand just as hard.
"The law's finally caught up to your dad. They caught him this afternoon and they've got him in lockdown. They're going to transfer him tomorrow."
The news isn't what Sarah's prepared herself for, and all her masks fail her. Chuck tries to hold her steady but she's still reeling from the news.
"I'm sorry. I thought..." Chuck begins to speak frantically in an attempt to console her. "I thought you would like to hear it from me instead of Casey. He thought it would be better that way too."A pause. "Do you want to see him?"
Sarah stares down at her gift of double-chocolate and cream. She's never been more grateful for it.
Happy birthday, indeed.
Chuck's still drifting in and out of thick, clouded dreams when he senses that something is wrong. He couldn't quite put his finger on it but buried under the covers, he could feel it as easily as a chill in the air.
Frowning, he reached blindly over to the other side of the bed, fully expecting to find his better half—only to discover the space cold and vacant.
"Sarah?" Chuck groaned, finally opening his sleepy eyes. No response. "Sarah?" The panic in his voice rises as he sits up to stare at the alarm clock. It's six in the morning on a Sunday.
They call it lazy Sundays for a reason…
"Sarah?"
Suddenly completely awake, Chuck throws aside the covers and rushes to the door. He runs barefoot down the hall, barges into the first room on the right and only allows himself to relax when he sees that everything is as it should be.
Even after all these years, Chuck still holds onto the secret fear that he would one day wake to find that none of this was real.
But it was. Everything was.
The contents of the nursery are exactly as he left it the night before, save for the crib area. Chuck laughed softly under his breath as he bent down to retrieve the blanket they'd tucked her in for the night, along with a plush Piglet and much-beloved albeit tattered bunny, all of which had somehow found their way to the ground. He returned the objects to the crib and tucked the blanket back over the sleeping infant.
"Sleeping like a log…" he teased softly under his breath. Or as Sarah would say, sleeping like Chuck. Counting sheep with an uncanny look of concentration, the babe didn't stir once, not even when her father bent down to kiss her on the crown of her head.
He tousled her hair gently, the wild curls all too reminiscent of his own after a night of tossing and turning, and left her to her dreams.
.
Chuck descended the stairs, ultimately finding the object of his search frantically at work in the kitchen—frantic being the operative word. There wasn't a single inch of counter space left unoccupied. Dishes that Chuck didn't recall ever owning were piled high in the sink, the windows were pushed wide open and the distinct smell of something burning lingered in the air.
"Sarah," he said, at a loss for words. "What are you doing?"
She looked at him distractedly, granting him only a second of her time before her concentration went back to the kitchen.
"What does it look like?" she asked. She set the mixing bowl down to wipe her brows with the back of her hand but only succeeded in smearing a line of flour across her forehead. Chuck laughed as he tried to help her brush it away.
He didn't think he'd ever tire of seeing his wife in the kitchen. She could recall contact numbers faster than his phone and stare down people twice her size without even breaking a sweat but the kitchen was a whole other domain.
"It's six in the morning, Sarah, come back to bed." He tugged at her bathrobe with his idle hands, but she was having none of it today.
"Chuck!" she scolded. "I can't. There's no time. I'm making a cake."
Chuck looked around the kitchen and raised a brow. "More like cakes," he said, scanning the plate after plate of cakes lined up along the counters. "Honey, what's gotten into you?" He laughed at the absurd sight. They had enough cakes to feed an entire school. "How long have you been at this?"
Before Sarah could answer, the oven timer beeped and she rushed to take out the next batch.
"Damn it!" she cursed, once she had removed the cake, and threw the oven mitts against the range for good measure.
Chuck stifled a laugh. They'd both agreed not to curse anymore, especially now that Charlotte was starting to mimic everything they did, so he knew that her patience was running thin today.
"Sarah, stop!" He grabbed her hands and tried to hold her still but she was like a bundle of live wires. Wrestling her was more difficult than trying to tie down Charlotte for a nap.
"No, Chuck, I have to do this!" She wasn't even looking at him when she said it, her eyes drifted past him to the cake still hot from the oven. "Damn it. I'll have to make another one."
Chuck did a double-take to make sure they were looking at the same cake. "It's fine, it's just a little burnt," he said.
Sarah rolled her eyes.
"It's normal, Sarah. It's a very normal looking cake." He grabbed her hand before she could reach for the spatula and pulled her close. Chuck was so used to finding a sense of clarity when he stared into her eyes, so it was strange to find the light in them noticeably absent today. Instead they were clouded by thoughts he couldn't understand.
"I don't want normal today, I need perfect. Everything has to be perfect," she stressed.
"Why?" He hugged her close, trying to keep her with him for just a little while longer. "It's six in the morning. On a Sunday!" He buried his face into her long golden hair, taking in the scent of gardenias and icing sugar. "Come back to bed. We'll get up when the baby's up, and then I'll help you decorate like I promised."
Sarah smiled, like she was sorely tempted and seriously considering the offer, but Chuck caught the glint in her eye.
"Oh my God," he said as he let go of her. "Please say you didn't—" Chuck stopped short as he stepped into the living room. Sure enough, there were streamers hanging from all four walls and balloons already blown and drifting idly around the room.
"Oh my God," he repeated as he turned back to face his wife. "Sarah!"
"I couldn't sleep," she said with a shrug. "It didn't take that long, honest."
Chuck raked his hands through his own hair at a loss for words. "But I was supposed to help you. Why didn't you wake me?"
For the first time since the morning, Sarah finally relaxed enough to let out a laugh. "As if I could," she teased. "Remember how you said you'd share night-time duty with me for Chuck? Remember how well that went?"
Chuck blushed, guilty as charged. "Well you should have tried harder." Knowing what she was apt to do next, he raised his hands up in surrender before she had even grabbed the nearest spatula. "But it is my fault for sleeping like a log. Completely, utterly, my fault."
Sarah narrowed her eyes at him but she was smiling. "Go back upstairs. You can get up when Chuck gets up."
Chuck grabbed her hand and gave it a tug, refusing to sleep in the bed alone. "Relax, Sarah, you're stressing yourself out. Charlotte isn't going to remember any of this. Come on. Come back upstairs."
Sarah shook her head, stubborn to a fault. "No. I have to do this."
"But Charlotte's not going to remember if you burnt the cake or if you didn't throw her an all-out birthday bash. Just relax. This is only her first birthday, she's going to have a million others."
"But I will remember," she stressed, looking at him now with the most hapless expression on her face. "I want to remember this. I want this to be real. I want this to mean something."
Chuck frowned. He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her tight, trying to find his bearings amidst stormy blue waters.
"But this is real," he said, and tightened his grip as if to remind them both. "And it does mean something."
Sarah buried her face into his chest, her breaths burning into his shirt like a hot iron brand. "Yeah. I know."
But her admission wasn't enough, and Chuck wished for the millionth time he could remember, so he'd know, really know, what this was all about.
Constantly bound by obligations, Sarah finds herself doing a lot of things she'd rather not and then justifying it all as something for the greater good.
Because that makes everything okay.
So when Chuck asks her if she wants to see him, see the very man who made her this way and drove her down the road she still struggles on a daily basis to retreat from, she says 'yes' because it's the right thing to say.
And then she leaves Chuck, gets in her car, and drives to the facility in the middle of the night, because she doesn't think she'll feel the same way after an evening of tossing and turning.
.
He greets her with a great big smile. "Hello, darling, I wasn't expecting you!"
Who else were you expecting?
Even though he's shackled to his seat, dressed in that hideous orange jumpsuit, he looks as if nothing is amiss. If not for the cold steel bars and guard at the door to remind her, they could very well be meeting in a park or a cafe.
Like any normal family.
Sarah has to fight every instinct not to lash out, consoling herself with the fact he's all she has in the world. Even if he wasn't the world's best father, he was still hers.
She takes a seat opposite him, crossing her arms to avoid his outstretched hands. It doesn't deter him.
"So..." he says as he smiles at her. "When can I leave this place?"
"I don't know," she replies, stubbornly clinging to her grudge. Last time had been her fault though. She'd expected too much from him and set herself up for disappointment.
His smile falls. "What do you mean you don't know? You work for them don't you?"
Sarah narrows her eyes. Her father was a quick study and she knew she'd never get one past her old man. Her silence seems to confirm his suspicions and he grins triumphantly.
"Can't you pull a few strings for me?" He smiled again and it reminded her so much of Chuck's own that she felt a sudden rush of anger. He had no right to taint the one thing in her life that was good and pure.
"What you did was illegal. When people break the law they go to jail; it's kind of how the system works," she informs flatly.
His expression falls momentarily but then he recoups his losses and smiles twice as warmly. That was her father. Never one to give up.
She eyes the man critically. "Do you know what today is?" Without being aware, she holds her breath in anticipation.
"October twentieth," he answers. The correct answer for most but not for her.
"No." She sighs and hates herself for still clinging to the embers of hope that should long have been snuffed out. She was such a glutton for punishment. "What today is?" she emphasizes, hoping he will finally catch on. Then this wouldn't be a complete loss.
He shakes his head and holds out his empty palms. "No, angel, but I bet you're going to tell me," he says with a wink.
Sarah stares at him, trying to hide her emotions. To keep from looking so damn eager and desperate. "It's my birthday."
The man had the gall to shrug, smile even, as he admitted his mistake. "Okay. Happy birthday."
"You don't mean it," she accuses and he shrugs, not ashamed to admit that fact either. "How could you forget your own daughter's birthday?"
"It's not your birthday and I can't help it if you have so many. It's hard to keep track of them all," he informs.
Of any of them.
Sarah takes a deep breath and counts backwards from twenty. Ellie's told her it helps in stressful situations. It's not working though. By the time she reaches ten all she can do is stare at her father's winning smile and be reminded of all her past misgivings.
"When's my real birthday then?"
He shrugs. "Sorry. I don't remember."
She couldn't believe it. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, darlin', I don't remember. It was a long time ago and we changed it so many times." He stares at her, an incredulous smile creeping to his lips. "I don't believe this! Are you really—" He nearly didn't go on, but the shock of the realization was too great to pass up. "Are you really getting this worked up over a few numbers? I promise you I have the right year. Isn't that enough?"
Sarah couldn't believe it either. "We've never celebrated any of my birthdays." It was pathetic really. She had six times the number of birthdays a normal child had and nothing to show for it. "All the other kids had parties and presents and cake—"
"And those suckers probably never got to experience half the things you did so I'd say we're even," her father reminds, pointing a lecturing finger at her.
Sarah arches a brow. Nearly getting run over by a truck, staying in foster care for two weeks until her father found a way to jump prison, never staying more than a few months in any place—right; even.
"Come on, angel-hair, are you really mad because I forgot your fake birthday?"
"It's not that!" she snaps, bristling only because he wasn't taking any of this seriously.
Well, why should he?
-----Why are you fixating?
"It's the principle of it," she said, trying to justify to herself and him. "Like it doesn't mean anything."
Like I don't mean anything to you.
"Well of course it doesn't mean anything," he exclaimed. "It's just a few numbers." He sighs with exasperation. "I don't see why you're so upset."
Chuck's words ring over and over again in Sarah's mind. Because a birthday was ' the one day where everyone you love shows how much they love you. Just you.'
"I want something real," she blurted. "Is that so much to ask? Just one thing that's not a lie, that actually means something."
Her father's smile finally wavers and she thinks she asks for too much. His whole life and ergo hers are built on a foundation of lies. Take it away and what do you have left?
Sarah stands up, causing the metal chair to grate against the cement ground, echoing the hollowness she felt in her heart.
"I want a father who can be there for me instead of one who just calls when they need to get out of a mess."
He stares at his hands. "That's a 'no' to the bail then?" he asks without looking at her.
Sarah rolls her eyes in disgust. "You're resourceful, I'm sure you'll find a way." She steels herself for the cold rejection and even though she can justify why he deserves it, she's not used to turning her back on obligations.
"You still with that schnook?" he asks, just as she's about to head for the door.
She doesn't know why she responds, but she feels like he ought to know that there was one aspect of her life that was no longer a lie.
"Yeah. We're together," she says. A pause. "And he's not a schnook."
He smiles and nods, giving her a rare look of approval. "I want to see him."
"No." All her prior misgivings rush back when she realizes what her father intends to do. Marching back to the desk, she towers over him, nearly shaking with anger. "You stay away from him!" she warns. "You're not pulling him into one of your schemes or convincing him to get you out of here!"
Her father doesn't say anything.
"Did you hear me?" she demands.
He still doesn't say anything and he doesn't have to. They both know the kind of person Chuck is. He'd do anything for her, even if she didn't want him to.
And that's precisely why fighting this relationship was a losing battle.
Having an overzealous sister and chaperoning the occasional event at Charlotte's daycare should have prepared Chuck for the madness of a birthday party involving a hoard of toddlers all under the age of three but he just never imagined it would take place in his own backyard. In fact little could have prepared anyone for this event, unless they happened to have eighteen children in their home all the time.
"Be honest, Ellie, you put Sarah up to this, didn't you?" Chuck said. He walked towards his sister as if he were navigating through a minefield. The last thing he wanted was to be knocked over by some rambunctious child, or worse, the other way around.
Ellie wrinkled her brows as she shook her head. Even she looked a little confused. "No. No, this is all her." Chuck stared accusingly at the inflatable bouncy castle, the miniature pony ride, and the troop of clowns to boot, but she remained steadfast in her conviction. "Hey! I swear. I thought it was going to be a small family affair."
Chuck sighed. "So did I." He had no idea what changed her mind. Sarah had been completely normal about their daughter's first birthday up until a week ago. Nonchalant even. Then, as if a switch had suddenly been flicked, she became consumed with planning the most extravagant birthday party in all of toddlerdom.
"Well, at least they seem to be enjoying themselves," Chuck said, the sole consolation for all of Sarah's maniacal behaviour. Speaking of whom; "Have you seen Sarah?"
Ellie shook her head. "No, I've had my hands full making sure Will doesn't repeat what happened at the last birthday party he was invited to."
Chuck smiled. He didn't even want to know. "He looks like he's having a blast."
Ellie laughed at that. Indeed the little boy, his thick blond hair matted with sweat, could be heard laughing at the top of his lungs as he ran past them. Charlotte toddled after him as if she were the boy's tail, turning when he turned, stopping when he stopped. Will acted as if that was the way things ought to be, and hardly paid any attention to his steadfast fan.
"That's so sweet, Chuck. You used to be like that too," Ellie teased. "You used to follow me around everywhere I went. Admit it, you worshiped me."
Chuck scoffed. "I did not!" And even if he did, he didn't remember—thankfully. But Ellie was right about one thing. It was sweet to see them together; he couldn't deny the joy he felt when he saw his little girl reach out to grab her cousin's hand. Charlotte was precocious but guarded, much like her mother; and he knew just how much the gesture meant.
Suddenly a garishly dressed clown in bright yellow and red polka dots approached the two, stooping to meet Will at eye level.
"Well hello, young man, is it your birthday today?"
Will smiled at the stranger. His little chest puffed out as he announced with great pride—"Yeah!"
Chuck doubled over with laughter as his sister looked on, horrified. "William Weston Woodcomb!" she threatened, marching towards him. "It is not your birthday today!"
"But Chuck said it was okay!" he whined, pointing an accusatory finger at the little girl clinging to his shirt.
"I don't care. I'm your mother and I say it's not."
"But she already gave it to me—"
"William!"
Catching on, the clown turned his attention to the little girl. "So it's your birthday today, is it?" he asked, staring down at her. "What's your name, sweetheart?"
Charlotte cowered further behind her cousin, trying to make herself scarce.
Chuck's smile faded. He sensed what was about to happen before she had even opened her mouth and swooped in to take the little girl in his arms.
"It's okay," he whispered quickly, hugging her tight. "Don't cry, Daddy's here."
It wasn't enough though, and like a stack of dominos, what was already in motion couldn't be stopped. Charlotte scrunched her face in revulsion and began to cry in earnest, shielding her eyes by burrowing herself into his chest. It was difficult for Chuck to bear but Ellie seemed unfazed by the reaction.
"I'm sorry," he said, apologizing to the garishly dressed and admittedly frightening clown. "She gets her completely rational fear of carnivals from me. Ellie—"
"Don't worry, I've got this," his sister said, sounding like a seasoned pro. "Go find Sarah. I'm sure she needs a break too."
Chuck had never been so grateful. "Thanks, Ellie."
Ellie smirked. "Admit it, you still worship me."
Chuck stuck out his tongue but he had to hand it to her. Ellie was a saint.
Turning towards the house, he rubbed the little girl's back, trying to soothe her as best he could. "Come on, Piglet, let's go find Mommy, okay?"
Charlotte hid her face in Chuck's shirt, refusing to even open her eyes until she could be sure the clown was out of sight. The interior of the house was thankfully quiet and as soon as Chuck had the screen door shut, the little girl quieted down.
"Sarah?" he called. There was no response but he didn't need one. He could hear the sound of imminent calamity coming from the kitchen. "Sarah!"
"Not now, Chuck, I'm busy," she shouted with her back to them. Elbow deep in the sink, the pile of dirty plates from the morning seemed to have gone forth and multiplied as Sarah tried to clear the space.
"Momma—"
Charlotte's pitiful voice was drowned out by the hum of the dishwater and the gushing faucet but Sarah spun around at the drop of a dime. Dropping the plate in her hand so quickly it nearly fell off the sink ledge and to the floor, she threw off her gloves and rushed to hold her baby.
Chuck more than willingly relinquished his hold on the little girl. There was only one person who could calm her better than he could.
"Chuck honey," she soothed as she hugged her tight. "What happened?"
"Clowns," Chuck said, as if that explained it all. Charlotte sniffed, wrinkling her face at even the mention of her aforementioned enemy. The babe in tears was such a pitiful sight; had he not witnessed the exchange, he would have thought it was something far worse than a man with bad fashion sense.
"Oh, baby, I'm so sorry," Sarah said, rocking the little girl slowly back and forth. It was the last straw.
Her eyes began to well with fat tears and her shoulders sagged forwards in defeat. "This is all my fault!" she lamented.
Chuck watched in shock as he witnessed his ever-capable wife fall to pieces. "Sarah," he uttered, unsure who he should soothe first. Charlotte began to cry in earnest once she saw her mother in tears, and the two seemed to feed off one another in a vicious cycle.
It was a disaster.
"Sarah, don't be upset. They're just clowns. They're harmless. I'll go send them home, okay?"
Sarah shook her head, hastily trying to wipe away her own tears and her daughter's. "I'm so sorry," she whimpered. "I just wanted everything to be perfect for today."
"It is!" Chuck exclaimed. It was hard to believe that a group of badly dressed men could reduce the ones he loved to tears. This only reinforced his own fear of carnivals in general.
"Okay, I'll send them packing. I won't even tip them, how's that?" He tried to coax a smile from his little girl, the easier target, but she only shook her head and buried her face into Sarah's neck.
"I'm so sorry, Chuck!" Sarah cried and this time Chuck had no idea who she was speaking to. All he knew was that he had to find a remedy to the situation—fast.
"Let's go somewhere quiet, okay?" He fished for the car keys in his pocket, and dangled them in his hand. "Come on, I got the keys." He jingled them a few times and Charlotte halted her tears long enough to look for the source of the commotion.
One person down, another to go.
"We can't leave," Sarah said, futilely wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "This is our house. There are people out there."
Chuck turned to look out the screen door. "Somehow I don't think anyone would notice," he said, nodding as he caught a glimpse of William dash past with a birthday crown stuck firmly on his head.
"Come on, Sarah," he coaxed. This madness had gone on for long enough. She needed to relax, they all did. "Piglet wants to go for a ride, doesn't she?" he asked, winning their daughter to his side with another jingle of the keys. "Are you going to say no to her on her birthday?"
At last, Chuck caught a glimpse of the woman he loved so dearly. "Well when you put it that way..." she said, kissing the little girl firmly on the cheek. "Anything for my Chuck."
Charlotte giggled and Sarah winked at him; leaving Chuck to figure out once again just who she was referring to.
Sarah used to know what it meant to be professional. Her career demanded it and she lived by it. It had come as easily as breathing; an instinctual set of standards she set out for herself.
And now?
Now she no longer lived under any such illusions.
First Chuck, now her father; she hated how she was letting everyone just get to her.
"I'm sorry."
She tries not to look so annoyed because she knows it's Chuck's favourite word, but of all the things he could say...
"What do you have to be sorry about?" She spoke in a watchful tone only because she knew they were being taped in the yogurt store but she doubted Casey would give a damn. He probably deliberately skipped their conversations to avoid suffering a brain aneurysm.
Chuck shrugged. "I'm sorry that things didn't go well with your father."
Sarah clenched the muscles in her jaw and braved a smile. "Nothing new. Remember," she said, tapping his noggin' with her finger as a reminder. "Be ready for disappointment."
He remembers. And that's why he gives her a good dose of the sad puppy-dog eyes.
"I'm sorry," he says again.
"You can't take responsibility for everything that happens," she lectures. "If it's anyone's fault, it's mine."
Even though she fully accepts the responsibility, Chuck looks only more conflicted.
"Hey, want some yogurt?" She holds up an empty cup. "You haven't had lunch."
Chuck's smile slowly returns. "Double-chocolate?"
"For you," she says. "Triple chocolate."
.
Chuck returns to work after his lunch-break ends and she tries to shut out any thought of her father. What he did with his life was up to him; it had nothing to do with her.
Nothing...
----and everything. She could lie all she wanted, but deep down, all her lies were so achingly transparent.
Desperate to take her mind off of what was really bothering her, she deflected to the other constant source of her worries. Entering the familiar series of digits, she waited for him to pick up.
After the second ring she starts to chew her lips and by the time she reaches voice-mail she has to rationalize that there are a million reasons why someone would ignore a call. It's perfectly normal.
Be normal. Please. Do you think you can handle that? She argued with herself over the finer points of dating. There were no rules in place between her and Chuck. How much should she worry?
A normal amount.
The answer sounded so simple in her mind. But really, what was the normal amount of worrying a girlfriend should do for her boyfriend whilst under the guise of dating for years longer than they actually were?
Sarah groaned. There was nothing normal at all about any of this.
Changing tactics, Sarah called the Buy-More. Thankfully someone who didn't make her skin crawl or leave her wondering if she might catch a VD through a handshake picked up.
"Hey, Anna, is Chuck around?"
"Chuck is on an off-site install," Anna replied, smacking loudly on her gum. "Wanna leave a message?"
Sarah wasn't sure she had anything meaningful to say. She twisted her lip in thought. Was it normal to want to talk to her boyfriend of near three-some years after just spending an hour with him?
"No. That's okay." Casey was over there anyway. "Will you let him know I called though?" she added as an afterthought.
You have no self-control.
Sarah shook her head. No, she really didn't.
.
An hour later Sarah's phone rings. She instantly thinks of Chuck and hopes he's back from the install. She's even got plans of running over to make a delivery; any excuse to get out of this blue-frosted prison.
"Hello?"
"I'm sorry."
It's Chuck's favourite word but it's not Chuck on the other line. Sarah's blood chills.
"Pardon?"
The caller on the other end hesitates. Sarah's heard him just fine but she doesn't understand. Was this some kind of joke?
"I'm sorry, darlin'."
Sarah leans against the granite counter, hoping the ice-cold surface will remind her of where she's left her senses.
"What do you want?" Her voice is so chilled it makes her cringe involuntarily. "What do you need," she corrects, though it doesn't sound much better.
Her father sighs into the phone. "They'll be transferring me in a few hours. Can you come down?" When she doesn't immediately agree, he throws in a heap of guilt to add fuel to the flame. "It'll be the last time, I swear."
Sarah doesn't know why she's such a sucker for this. If she can't say 'no' to her own father, then she really has no hope against Chuck.
.
Nothing's really changed the second time around. There's a distinct sense of déjà vu as Sarah enters the secured room and sits across from her father. He's still in the hideous orange jump-suit and his hands are still shackled but he doesn't seem half as smug as he was the night before. If she didn't know better she would have thought the emotional toll of being on the run for the last twenty years had finally caught up to him.
But she knew her father better than that. And she had to keep reminding herself lest she become a 'schnook' too.
"I'm sorry, Sarah," he said, looking her straight in the eye.
He'd done this sort of thing before though, and he was so terribly good at it.
Sarah steeled her heart. "I don't believe you."
"Then let me prove it to you," he said. His voice was so earnest—
Sarah shook her head, as if trying to snap out of a trance. "How?"
"Once I get back on my feet, I'll come clean. Wash my hands of it all." He raised his shackled wrists but didn't go so far as to try and hold her hand. "I could stay with you or Charlie—"
As if a match had been lit right under her seat, Sarah jumps up, slamming her palms on the table. "You talked to Chuck." Not a question, but a statement that demanded further explanation.
All of a sudden her heart races like a car with the accelerator pushed to the floor.
His offsite install, huh? She should have known. She should have known from the second she saw the pensive expression on his face at lunch that he would try and fix things.
"What did you two talk about?" she asked when her father didn't give an answer.
The man shrugged, purposefully avoiding eye contact. "Nothing...nothing that would interest you. Just a conversation, man to man."
Because you're one to give advice.
Sarah seethed silently in her head. She didn't know who she was angrier with; her manipulative father or her foolishly well-meaning boyfriend. One was too cunning for his own good and the other was an idiot, to be sure.
"We could start over, Sarah," he said when he could be sure she'd calmed down.
Sarah sank back down into her seat. "We've started over...and over...and over..." she said. When she'd been a child she hadn't had a choice, but she had one now.
Her father leaned across the table, his face lighting up with hope. "But this time it will be different. I promise you that, Sarah."
The fact he's started to use a name rather than one of the multitudes of endearments is not lost on her. He's serious...about something. Sarah just couldn't be sure it was her.
"You have to get out of jail first before you can start over," she said, crossing her arms.
"Right." He looked down at the cuffs and then back at her. All the wrinkles on his face seemed to magnify when he sighed. "I thought you might help me with that. Charlie said—"
"Don't," she warned. Don't call Chuck that. Don't act like you're his friend.
"Sarah, if you could just believe me this one time—"
Sarah shot out of her seat. "I'm sorry," she blurted, and she was. "I thought I could do this, but I can't."
She knew she wasn't strong enough for this, so she backed away with her hands raised in surrender. "I'm sorry!" she said. "I just can't. I can't." She shook her head. "I can't do this anymore."
Her father looks as if he finally gets that this is an ultimatum. There are no more second chances.
All his facades fall and the first true expression she's seen since their reunion appears. He looks older than she's ever seen him, and suddenly the man who could turn water to gold appears before her not as the god she once knew but just a lonely old man.
"Will you visit me?"
Sarah stared at the doors. "I didn't think you'd care," she said, holding fast against the waves of guilt that crashed over her.
"Of course I care," he said, and when he did, Sarah was suddenly reminded of memories she'd long forgotten. A loving kiss after a job well done, Rocky Road ice-cream in the special cone because 'nothing was too good for my angel' and how special it'd felt when he winked at her, as if they spoke a secret language only the two of them knew...
"Believe it or not, Sarah, this is what I do," he informed sadly. "I screw things up. Your old man is a screw-up."
Sarah bites down on the inside of her cheek. She's careful about how much emotion she's willing to show. Even a confession as ardent and frank as this is hard to believe. She just doesn't know what's real anymore.
Her father reads people for a living and she's easily the most well-versed book in his collection. If she's smart, she'll say he's just telling her what she wants to hear, playing off her emotions.
"I want to believe you, but I don't know where to start," she confesses.
He turns and stares down at the ground by her feet. "I'm sorry."
It's a start.
It seems only fitting that they end their day at the beach. It had been the setting of so many other firsts: their first date, their second first date, the place he'd first proposed, where she'd first told him the news, and now their little girl's first birthday.
Without any clowns to harass them or screaming children to distract them, Chuck, Sarah and Charlotte spent a quiet afternoon making sandcastles and chasing waves. It was a quiet family affair, just as they had agreed before this week reared its ugly head.
Now the sun was beginning to wane and Charlotte, exhausted from all the running, laughter and tears, was fast asleep in Sarah's arms.
Chuck could sense Sarah's madness wash away, a layer at a time, with each lap of the waves. Slowly but surely, the rigid muscles in her body eased and the storm in her eyes gave way to light.
"I'm so sorry."
Chuck stirred from his own thoughts. Sarah had been so quiet for much of the afternoon that he was surprised to finally hear her voice again.
"`bout what?" he asked, hoping she would realize there was nothing to forgive.
Sarah took a deep breath. "I never celebrated a birthday until I met you," she confessed.
Chuck looked at her, stunned. He knew her childhood had been rough, but—"I'm sorry," he blurts, and wraps his arm around her.
Sarah stared at the waves and readjusted Chuck's jacket over Charlotte's sleeping figure, stalling to collect her thoughts.
Chuck wrapped his arm around her even tighter, bracing himself for what was to come.
"Not once. It wasn't ever a priority for my father." Sarah looked down at their little girl and then back up at him. "I wanted things to be different. I wanted to give her what I never had."
"That's only natural," Chuck said. He kissed her on the brow, still able to taste the icing sugar from the morning.
Sarah sighed. "I wanted to give her something real. Where did I go wrong?"
Chuck wanted to laugh. Sometimes she could be so absurd. "You didn't. You did everything right. No one could look at you and say you didn't do everything in your power to make sure of that."
Sarah was not so convinced. As if suddenly awakening from a week-long sleep, she reviewed every action ever taken with a critical eye. "I ruined my daughter's birthday!" she lamented, guilt etched so vividly into her features. "How could I have thought she would like clowns? I should know better—I'm her mother."
Chuck couldn't help himself. He shook his head, laughing quietly so Charlotte wouldn't wake. "Sarah, she's not going to remember. We can make up whatever we want." He kissed her as a last resort, trying in vain to remind her how none of it mattered. Not when they were together. Not when they've already been given so much. "Stop being so hard on yourself. She had fun today."
Sarah threw him a dubious look.
"She did," Chuck insisted. "Right up until the part with the clowns."
"It was too much for a baby," she said, her voice full of defeat. "Ellie was right, we should have just given her some play-doh and taken her to the park."
Chuck smiled. "Then that's what we'll tell her," he said, simple as that. "Come on, Sarah, I promise you that she won't remember any of it by tomorrow. I can almost guarantee you we haven't traumatized her to the extent our parents did us."
Sarah narrowed her eyes. "Thanks, Chuck," she deadpanned. "That's very comforting."
Chuck tousled their little girl's hair, making the curls even wilder than before if it was even possible.
"Although..." he added, trying to hide the tease from entering his voice. "She might remember having to eat birthday cake for breakfast for the next five years."
Sarah smiled and it was the smile that he'd waited all day to see. Saying nothing was enough when she leaned into him, bringing the three of them closer together.
They fell into a perfect silence, and Chuck felt as if he would do a great injustice by speaking. But in the end, he felt he had to let her know, because all day she'd been speaking as if it wasn't.
"This is real." He waited for her to say something but she didn't. "You know that, right?"
Sarah smiled. When she buried her face against his neck, he could feel her even breaths warm as a ray of sunshine against his skin. "Yeah," she murmured softly, almost like a confession. "I know."
Chuck calls and says he's in the neighbourhood. It's a lie and a bad one at that because he still wears his watch and they both know he's at his sister's. She doesn't contradict him though. She'll take any excuse to see him.
"Come over then."
.
He must have driven like a madman because he makes it to her place in only half the time and for a second she thinks the GPS is broken.
"Sorry it took so long," he says, gasping for air. He blames it on a phone emergency from Morgan, which only makes Sarah smile. He rambles to hide his nervousness, until she can take it no longer and silences him with a kiss.
She yanks him across the threshold by the collar, the second time in two days, and slams the door shut. Backing him up against the hard wooden surface, she feels herself melt into him as he wraps his arms around her.
Sarah tries to get him to take control, to stop treating her like porcelain and just do to her what he's always wanted but Chuck, always leaning on the side of caution, pulls away before it gets anywhere.
The separation fills her with disappointment but she has only herself to blame. She knows he still thinks her confession was a lapse in judgement, that one day she'll pull the rug out from under him.
The realization fills her with even more melancholy.
"What's wrong?" he asks, rubbing her shoulders.
She shakes her head and puts on a smile. None of it mattered, not now anyway when he's standing in front of her and they'd found common ground amidst some very blurry lines.
Chuck tilts his head. He grabs her hand and the first thing she notices is how wet it feels.
"So?" He looks at her with eyes nearly brimming with anticipation.
"So..." she murmurs, refusing to take the bait.
"So...is your father going to stay with you...or should I fluff out the cushions on my couch?" He gives her a patented smile, which only makes it worse.
"Chuck." She walks back to the bed and sits down, waiting for him to do the same. All the while she's torn between scolding him fiercely for being such a "schnook" and smothering him in kisses for being the annoyingly honourable man he has the terrible habit of being.
"Nice try, but no dice," she says. A part of her is still angry that he's meddled in what was clearly not his business, but that's what boyfriends do, isn't it? They take care of you. They take care of family.
Chuck's expression falls. "He's willing to change this time."
Sarah wants to scoff. There's no doubt in her mind which of the two had been an easier target for her father. "No," she states. "He won't."
"People can surprise you," he persisted.
Sarah stares at Chuck, sincerely wishing she could believe his words. "I know you went to see my father this afternoon. What did you say to him?"
He shrugs in a painfully non-nonchalant way. "Nothing. We just chatted. Just two guys...in prison...you know..."
"No. I don't know," she said. She takes his hand and feels strengthened by his grip.
"He wants to change, Sarah," he said, looking at her with a look of conviction her father could never convey.
"Chuck." Sarah leans her head against his shoulder. "You're interpreting good intentions to him because you're a good person."
He laid his head down to rest atop hers and it suddenly struck Sarah how rare it was to find someone with the perfect shoulder to rest against.
"Trust me on this one."
Sarah doesn't want to; she wouldn't trust anyone if she could help it and it's only then she realizes the influence Chuck's had over her.
She may not trust her father but she trusted Chuck in a 'no questions asked, no strings attached, if he said so then it had to be so' sort of way.
The realization is frightening.
Better watch out, Sarah, one day you might actually turn into a real girl.
"Thank you," she whispered, so softly she wasn't sure he heard.
"Hmm?" he murmured, nudging her hand. "What for? My plan sort of backfired."
Sarah smiled even though she knew Chuck couldn't see. "Thank you...for giving me the faith I needed to believe in people again."
Chuck shifted away from his resting spot, a crooked smile on his face. "Are you sure it's not a curse?"
Sarah leaned closer to make up for the gap between them. "No, Chuck, it's a gift," she confirmed as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in until they were nose to nose, eye to eye and lip to lip. He smiles back at her and when they kiss, it's utterly, painfully normal. There's no rush, no danger, and no one is watching.
Sarah closes her eyes and the moment has never felt so real as it did then. Even the intangible nature of love was nearly palpable when she surrendered herself over to him.
"The best kind of gift," she breathes. Catching his gaze, she stares meaningfully into his eyes."Better than a double-chocolate cupcake."
He doesn't understand at first. But then he senses that she means more than words alone and pulls away to replay the exchange. She waits for it to hit him. Watches for the glint of recognition to light in his eyes.
Finally he grabs her by the shoulders, staring at her as if afraid to believe it. As if he's misunderstood.
"Really?" he whispers, afraid to say it any louder.
She nods once and doesn't offer anything more. Her father is right; it's just a date, but the day has never felt more real to her.
Chuck's nearly giddy with joy when he kisses her, throwing caution to the wind as his lips collide with hers.
Sarah still doesn't understand the significance of just one day out of three hundred and sixty-four others but if she could make him feel as happy as he made her, in so little words, then this had to be it.
He deserved to have this. He made it mean something, made it into something real.
"Thank you!" he gasps, breaking momentarily from her. It perplexes her. She's never seen him so happy not even—no, never. His entire face is alight with joy. "This is the best early Christmas present ever."
Sarah laughs as they fall back against the bed. She feels as if a weight has been lifted off her shoulders and even though she knew it wasn't the truth, it was for them and that's all that mattered.
"Hey, Sarah?" he whispers as he nuzzles his lips against her neck.
Sarah settles against him, content to lie like this forever. "What?" she whispers back.
Chuck smiles. "Happy birthday."
.
I don't know if anyone's noticed but i broke a rule. It's both chuck and sarah's POV in this story.
Next chapter is...Sarah vs the Affair. Who's it going to be?? =)