A/N: Probably the longest installment yet. Thanks for all your support; it saddens me that we are nearly at the end.
Chapters 12, 13, and 14 will follow events mentioned in Chapter 7 (the not-so-favorite chapter) so take a look there if you are confused.
Chapter 12: Chuck vs the Choice
On Wednesdays or better dubbed "hump-days" by Morgan, the office was always noticeably unproductive. Three days out from the weekend and work at the desk was synonymous with being stuck on top of a hill. Mondays/Tuesdays could be motivated by copious amounts of caffeine and Thursdays/Fridays were a breeze once the weekend was in sight, but sad, lonely Wednesdays always left more to be desired.
To remedy the dire situation, everyone at the office worked an hour longer Mondays and Tuesdays in return for a shorter "hump-day".
Sarah did not get "hump-days", in the literal and the philosophical sense. She went about her weekdays in the usual manner and seemed no more interested in the fact that it was one day before the weekend or five.
'Because every day is a holiday when you get to spend it with me, right?' he'd joked in an unflappably cheesy attempt at getting her to blush.
The suggestion had given her pause, but then she'd done the unexpected and smiled—so wide and brilliantly she managed to turn the tables on him and make what ought to have been a joke into something closer to the truth.
'Who's blushing now?' she'd retorted, her face full of smug satisfaction.
So it was, Chuck spent his Wednesday lounging on the couch watching TV alone in the middle of a lazy afternoon when there came a knock at the door.
Two raps. Nothing strange or out of the ordinary about that.
Chuck yawned, giving his jaw an extremely satisfying stretch before standing up and padding barefoot down the hall. He opened the door, raising a brow at the noticeably handsome stranger standing in front of him.
A little strange...and as Chuck was reluctant to admit, the man was a little out of the ordinary.
"Hello. Can I help you?" Chuck asked. He wasn't one for first impressions; Sarah always reminded him that he gave people too much of the benefit of the doubt. But as he eyed the stranger carefully from head to toe, he couldn't see the man meaning him any harm.
He was dressed in a well-pressed suit, black leather shoes, and his appearances were by all accounts neatly groomed. In fact he was so carefully dressed that he looked somewhat out of place in quiet suburbia.
"Yes, hello," the man said, his voice lifting with a definite accent. He pointed at him and furrowed his thick brows in concentration. "Chu....uck...right? Chu—uck Bat—owski."
Chuck didn't appreciate the choice in syllable breaks but he didn't let on. Suddenly self-aware that he was being addressed by a stranger who knew him, Chuck straightened up a little.
"Yes. Hi. That's me," he said. Looking down at his own choice in attire, he wished he hadn't changed out of his work clothes so readily the second he got home. "Can I help you?"
The man looked at him curiously, as if at any moment Chuck would reciprocate and call out his name in broken syllables too. But try as he might, Chuck did not recall ever meeting this man.
"Okay..." the man said when he realized his original plan wasn't going to work. "I was warned this might happen." He tried to peek over Chuck's shoulder to get a better view of what was behind him. "I'm looking for Sarah. Do you know where I can find her?"
Chuck had no reason for feeling the way he did, but at the mention of his wife's name, his stomach began to perform somersaults. Was this man her friend or his?
"Sarah?" Chuck repeated. It was just his luck that Sarah happened to attract all these colossal, annoyingly handsome types.
"Yeah, Sare-rah..." the man confirmed, speaking her name with that same accented lilt. "Sarah Walker. You must remember her. You two worked together."
"Huh." Chuck still didn't know who he was speaking to but he had an idea. He was definitely one of those people.
The man frowned, a look of near disappointment hovering over his features. "Is she working out of state? I was informed that you might be able to help me."
Chuck was no spy, but if he had spy-senses, all the alarm bells would be ringing. He'd already met all of Sarah's friends and this man wasn't one of them.
"I'm sorry, but I don't know you."
The man looked shocked and a little offended. "Chuck Bartowski," he intonated, taking care to properly pronounce his name. "I saved your life."
Aw shoot.
Chuck winced, and flashed him an apologetic look.
"We worked together," he reminded to no avail. "And Sarah too. I've had a couple run-ins with your old partner—Carmen St. Clair. She's the one who gave me this address."
Chuck gripped the door steadfast in one hand, unsure whether or not it was safe to let his guard down. The man did seem genuine in his claims.
"Uh..." Chuck hesitated, unsure what to do. Was there a cap to how rude a person could be? Would he be any more offended if Chuck closed the door on him, after already denying he knew the man who had apparently saved his life?
"I need to make a phone call; can you give me a second?"
The stranger looked surprised. "Uh. Alright?"
"I'm going to call Sarah," Chuck revealed. "Maybe she'll remember you."
The man's expression instantly brightened. An annoying handsome grin appeared on his face. "She will," he said, quite confident of the fact.
"Right..." Chuck muttered with a much more subdued level of enthusiasm. "Who should I say is calling?"
The stranger looked at him, as if giving him one last chance to redeem himself.
Chuck shrugged. He really didn't know.
"Barker," the man said. "Tell her it's Cole Barker."
The headache that Chuck had gone to sleep with in the hopes of remedying felt no better when he opened his eyes. The pounding, the stabbing and the insistent throbbing...it was all still there, the trifecta and mother of all headaches.
For a second he was so disoriented and stuffed in the head he didn't realize where he was. It was a stranger's room to be sure; the walls were completely blank and all the familiar things like his bookcase, dresser, and movie posters were missing.
Why was he here?
How did he end up here?
When his mind offered no answers, Chuck thought he'd really erased his memories.
"Have I?" he asked in alarm as he sat up in bed. The sheets spilled off the bed as he struggled to his feet.
—Who am I?
"Chuck Bartowski," he said aloud.
Okay. One down.
—Where am I?
It took him a little longer, but he knew the answer to that too. "Sarah's hotel room."
—Who is Sarah?
The answer to that took him even longer, and when it finally dawned on him, he had to pinch himself to make sure this wasn't all part of some dream.
"My girlfriend. Sarah is my girlfriend," he declared aloud, suddenly finding himself the beholder of one of the goofiest grins on his face. He embarrassed himself sometimes with the depths of his social ineptitude.
—Why am I here?
"Because I had a headache." ...Because you were an idiot and tried to undergo radical surgery to remove your memories. Chuck ran a hand through his hair, wincing as his fingers brushed against the stitches still red and tender to the touch.
—Why aren't you in your own room?
"Because I moved out of Ellie's..." Because they want you with Carmen but haven't found a place. Because Sarah doesn't think you should be anywhere without someone's supervision.
As bad as any flash, all the answers to questions yet unposed rushed through his mind, nearly blinding him with information overload. Carmen, his new cover-girlfriend. Sarah, his very beautiful and very real girlfriend. Casey, protector, office workmate, the grump in the monkey-suit.
—The headache that won't go away...
......Waking to find Sarah staring at him, the fear so vividly etched into her features. As if every time he slept he'd fall into another coma…
.........Lying to Ellie....still...about everything.
—The memory of the morning comes to mind last. The headache at the office. Sarah and Carmen fighting over whether to seek medical attention (no), whether he should go home (yes) and whose home he should stay at (Sarah's, but only after a bitter argument).
Chuck sighed. Okay. So no memory loss then.
He looked around the hotel room in search of Sarah but he was alone. There were no clues to indicate where she might have gone either and for a split second he had the irrational fear that she might have left for good.
It was no sillier than any of her irrational fears.
Of course no one knew whether or not poking around his brain had caused any permanent damage. Whether he would or wouldn't lapse back into another coma. And much as he wished, he wasn't sure when this headache would go away, if ever.
But that didn't mean Sarah had to hover over him, incessantly blaming herself for everything from stitches on the head to papercuts on the finger. It was getting to be too much. He was just glad to have her back, and if a near death experience was what it took, then so be it. He didn't regret it for a second.
Suddenly his phone starts to ring. Chuck jumps and begins to search madly for it, clawing through the mess of tossed sheets and fallen pillows. He knew if it was Sarah calling and he didn't pick up, she'd have a fit.
Then he'd really know the meaning of 'overprotective'.
Chuck finds it at the end of the third ring, his thumb mashing over the button on the screen in a frantic effort to take the call.
"Hello? Hello? I'm here!" he cries, already preparing himself for a good yelling.
There's no reply on the other end though, just static and the dread of words yet to come.
"Hello?" Chuck asks again, pressing the phone harder against his ear. He checked and double-checked to make sure he hadn't accidentally turned off the cell. "Hello?"
In his heart of hearts he knew. Whether it was hundreds of miles or maybe only a few meters, the intangible connection between them felt like a hand reaching through the dead sea of silence, threatening to pull him through to the other side.
But it wasn't until the other end came to life, till he heard the voice, that it became real to him.
"Chuck? Oh thank God." He heard a gasp, then the sound of a muffled sob. "Oh thank God you're alright!"
Chuck fell back against the mattress, his grasp on free thought flying through the window like a balloon without a tether. The voice, her voice, paralyzed him; filled him with such polarizing emotions that his body was split down the middle in a perfectly matched tug of war. A part of him hated her, every molecule of her being, and a part of him, despite everything…
"Chuck, I'm so sorry! It was the only way to keep you safe, you have to understand. Please! Please tell me you're alright!"
The words were slow in forming, but when he finally came to his senses, they began to snowball, and the emotions that followed were just as convoluted and complicated in its layers.
"What do you want, Jill," he said, swallowing his bitterness the same way he took his pills every morning, with the same grimace and everything.
There were a million other things he wanted to say to her, but saying too much would show her that the surgery had failed. He had already proven himself an idiot once; he didn't want to repeat the mistake.
The only resentment he could hold onto now was the trifle betrayal he suffered at her hand five years ago.
"Chuck, it was the only way. If they knew that you knew—" Chuck tried to shut his ears from her web of lies but it was too late. He'd already entangled himself in her trap and ten years later, he was still scrambling to get out.
"Right...you lied to me to protect me, how noble of you."
Jill's voice breaks and Chuck's facade of callousness cracks. The wall he's sworn to erect and place between them forever until the end of time crumbles before the cement's even dried.
It's Jill, he knows, but she's still a girl, and making a girl cry was as heinous a crime as any.
"Why are you calling?" he asks. For his own sake and perhaps hers too he checks to make sure the front door is locked. If Sarah were ever to walk in...well...
"I...I just had to know."
Chuck knows the protocol. He knows how dangerous Jill can be. She's double-crossed—triple-crossed—him, the government, everyone. The only team she plays for is her own one-person show.
"You shouldn't have called," he says. As he hears her voice break into another heart-wrenching sob, Chuck groans and rubs his temples. The headache is worse than it was before he closed his eyes. "If you're sorry about Bryce, I think you're a little too late."
There's a long silence.
"It really worked didn't it?"
It killed him that he couldn't answer. That he couldn't confront her about what she'd done. It wasn't fair that all they had were some vague pretences.
Damn it, Jill. He wanted answers.
"Wow..." she murmured in shock. There's another long silence, and if Chuck were to guess, she was trying to figure out what hadn't been blanked out by the procedure.
"I'm sorry, Chuck," she finally whispered, every word permeated with the heaviest of emotions.
He knew what this looked like. He was everything Casey had already deduced from day one. A pathetic, sad-sack-bleeding-heart, idiot.
But Jill was sorry. He knew her, knew that tone, knew that despite everything, somewhere deep down she was still the Jill he knew and once loved. It didn't make things any better, but it did a little...and that smidge was enough for Chuck to acknowledge that he was indeed a sucker for punishment.
"Why Jill? I thought..."
Thought what? He was too ashamed to say it. Not even in his head. His only solace was that Jill would never catch on to his true meaning.
"It's complicated, Chuck. You wouldn't understand, and I'm not asking you to. I just want you to know that whatever we had...it was real. And I'm sorry." Her voice cracked as she apologized again, and Chuck had a sudden image of Jill shivering against the elements, calling from some dilapidated booth in the middle of nowhere.
She was right. He could never understand how she could willingly leave all this behind to become like some animal on the run, knowing that every day was a new fight to survive.
"I'm really sorry too," he whispered. Fool me once shame on you...fool me twice...thrice...he had to draw the line somewhere. She'd made a choice, and it was time for him to make his.
Chuck rubbed his throbbing temples. "Goodbye, Jill."
But even as he said it, his lips trembled and his tongue threatened to mutiny and entangle itself, anything to curb the finale of something ten years in the making.
"Goodbye, Chuck."
The call ended but it wasn't the end. That he knew. He only hoped she didn't.
The phone hasn't even finished its first ring before she picks up.
"Mr. Bartowski, this is a surprise," Sarah answers, teasing him right off the bat.
Chuck laughed nervously as he double-checked to make sure the door was locked. Not that it was any consolation. The stranger, that Mr. Barker, was fully capable of breaking down the barrier should he feel the need. Closing the door had merely been a formality.
"Is the TV broken or something?"
"Huh?" Chuck looked to the living room but everything was as he left it. "No. Why would you think that?"
"Because it's a Wednesday afternoon. Don't think I don't know what you do when you get home early."
Chuck flushed at the accusation. "Hey! I play while you're at work so it's out of my system when you get home."
She laughed on the other end. She sounded much happier now that they had transferred her to another office; one that didn't involve counting out change and stamping cheques for a cover.
"So...I need to ask you something."
"Ah..." Sarah's voice rose with intrigue. "And here I thought you called simply because you missed me."
Chuck smiled foolishly for a only second. By the next he remembered there was still someone standing right outside their door and all thought of flirtation fizzled into the background.
"Do you know a man named Cole Barker?"
Silence.
Dread began to ooze through Chuck's system like black tar, the poison threatening to conquer all his senses one by one. It had only been a few months, but they had finally managed to put the debacle of their exes and the lies and that life behind them.
"Sarah?" Chuck queried, checking to make sure the front door was still closed. "You there?"
"Why do you ask?" Her voice had gone unmistakably flat. He could almost see her leaning forwards in her seat, dropping the pen she so habitually twirled in her hand while at the desk. "Did you remember something?"
"No. But there's a dashingly handsome man at the door by that name." He waited for her to say something but Sarah seemed dumbstruck.
Not a good sign.
"He's looking for you. What should I say?"
Chuck held his breath and listened with rapt attention; it was how he could tell Sarah was holding her breath too.
Did those two share a history? He wouldn't be too surprised, Cole Barker was not as suave and debonair as Bryce but he could see how women would be attracted to him nonetheless. He looked the part of an agent or what he knew from the mass media; so 'cool' and dangerous. Just thinking about it made Chuck grumble, and he wasn't usually the jealous type.
"Sarah?" he prompted, hoping she'd say something.
Her voice was remarkably calm when she finally spoke, but the words came out rapid and dismissive. "I'll be right home."
It wasn't the answer he'd been expecting.
"Uh...okay. But what do I do in the meantime?"
"Huh?"
"He's standing right outside our door."
"Oh." Chuck thought he could hear the slamming of drawers and the jingle of car keys. "Just leave him there."
"What?" He didn't know if he could do it. He'd already been rude enough as is. "But we know this guy, right? And he's one of the good guys, right?"
"Yeah..." Sarah said distractedly. "Just leave him there. I'll take care of it."
Chuck wrinkled his brows. She spoke as if he were something to be left at the curb for the garbage-man.
"Did you hear me, Chuck? Just leave him there. I'll be right home."
She didn't wait for a confirmation. Before Chuck could protest the phone call had already ended. He stared at the cell in his hand, wondering what the heck he should do. He wasn't any closer to understanding than when he started.
The knock came at the door again. "Chuck? Chuck, you there?" came the unmistakable muffled noise.
Chuck was fraught with indecision. Sarah confirmed the man's words; he had worked with them, and he was one of the good guys. So why couldn't he be let into the house? Chuck's insides twisted at the thought of his wife handling the situation. What exactly did she have in mind?
"Chuck?"
Having already displaced his manners twice today, he wasn't sure he could do it a third.
And he saved your life, don't forget.
Chuck grumbled under his breath. He had, actually, that was the problem.
Walking back to the hallway, he opened the door once more. Cole Barker looked at him expectantly and leaned forwards ready to enter, as if he just knew that Sarah would affirm everything.
"So?"
"So..." Chuck said, contemplative to the last second. "Sarah will be on her way shortly." The man's face split into an undeniably pleased smile. Chuck sighed. This was going to be so much fun. "Would you like to come in?"
The next time Chuck opens his eyes, he's not alone.
"Hey," she murmurs, staring down at him, running her hand through his hair.
It felt so good he nearly didn't believe he was awake. "Mmmm...." he groaned, gazing sleepily at his angel. She was too beautiful to be real.
"Sleep well?" she asked. Her smile faded when her fingers brushed against the missing patch of curly brown hair and the stitches still barely healed. As if she'd just put her hand into a bed of hot coals, she flinched and retracted the hand immediately.
Chuck sat up, hurriedly combing the surrounding hairs in an attempt to hide the scar from sight.
"Very well. Slept like a baby," he assured. A half-truth. Unfortunately the headache he'd been blessed with refused to see itself out the door.
"No nightmares?" She hugged him tight, the weight of her body forcing him to collapse back against the mattress. They fell together against the pillows and the sheets, nearly knocking the breath right out of him.
"None," he promises as he leans in to kiss her.
Sarah purses her lips. "Liar." She kisses him anyway, but it's a little rougher than he's used to, but he supposed he deserved it. He's just glad she's finally stopped treating him like he's made of collapsible Jello.
"Sorry," he says and winces. A combination of guilt, a throbbing head and the bite on the lip he's suffered under his protector topples his facade of bravado and he has to bury his face into the pillow to hide it from her.
Sarah's expression immediately changes to one of panic. "Sorry!" she cries. The word was fast becoming their favourite phrase. "Are you alright?" Her hands hover just a breath's distance from the surgery site but she doesn't trust herself to go any nearer. "Where does it hurt?"
Chuck buries his face into her hair, just taking in the scent of her. Finally he could appreciate the attachment a child had for its security blanket. The pain was still there, but it was tolerable. And when she kissed him ever so gently, like a butterfly's wingbeat against his forehead, he nearly believed that she'd kissed the hurt away.
"Nowhere," he whispers, clutching her tight against him. "This is perfect."
You're perfect.
Even though he never says the words, Sarah smiles as if she's heard. "I stepped out for a moment there. Hope you didn't miss me."
He shakes his head, suppressing the cheeky grin that's forcing its way onto his lips. "Nope. Not at all."
Before he can respond, he's blindsided by a pillow, then another.
"Just kidding! Just kidding!" He tries not to laugh but it's hard when he sees her with the most adorably peeved expression on her face. "I'm just kidding. Of course I noticed, and of course I missed you."
He tries to kiss her but she puts the pillow between them and all he ends up with is a good mouthful of feathers.
"Serves you right," she growls, playfully pushing him back down on the mattress. "You're supposed to be resting."
Before Chuck can come up with an excuse, Sarah thinks better of it and snuggles up against him whilst still in her work clothes. She sighs, fully content, and gives no indication of moving to change. He realizes what she's always known.
The only way she can get him to listen is to make sure of it herself.
He wraps his arm around her waist, rests his forehead against the crown of hers, and waits for the lull of sleep to come. He can't fall back though; a part of him is still on edge after the call this afternoon.
"Sarah—" he stops himself just seconds before he's said too much.
"What?" she whispers, raising her head to look at him.
Chuck swallows slowly. There was once a time when he saw things in black and white. There was right and then there was wrong, but now...now there was only consequence of action, and the repercussions of choice.
"Nothing," he said with a shake of his head. "Just...thinking." He closed his eyes and prayed Sarah would let it go.
Even after everything she's done, Chuck can't find the heart to turn her in. Jill's all spectrums of wrong but he wants—needs—to believe she called because she genuinely cared. Or else Jill will just become another soulless enemy of the state, and there was no mercy for the likes of them.
"Chuck..." She rests her palm against his face, the pads of her fingers grazing against his day-old stubble. "You can tell me anything, you know that."
"I know," he said as he clasped her hand, pressing it even more firmly against his cheek. He could tell her anything...but this.
"Don't worry. We'll find her soon. It's only a matter of time."
The dread of knowing how it was all going to end paralyzes Chuck with the inevitability of it all. He lets go of Sarah's hand, looks away and says nothing. Agreeing would be a lie, not agreeing would be traitorous.
"Chuck." Sarah withdraws her touch, taking with her all the heat in the room. It's only three in the afternoon on a sunny summer's day but it might as well be midnight in the Antarctic.
"It's a good thing. Catching her is a good thing," she stresses. Her voice trembles with barely restrained emotion and her eyes are the darkest he's ever seen. "How can you still..." She clenches her hands into fists, the emotions coming to mind so furiously she doesn't know which to express aloud first. It becomes a jumbled mess and Chuck winces through the angry adjectives hurled his way.
"How can you still feel this way?" she finally exclaims. "When are you ever going to get over her?"
The question triggers a painful memory. Jill used to ask him that all the time.
"It's not that," he says, reaching out to her. She backs away; putting up the walls she's so good at building. And the headache he's had for weeks on end only grows worse when he realizes she believes his heart's strayed even an inch from hers since the moment he surrendered it over.
"It's not that and you know it."
Sarah grows still and Chuck hesitantly wraps his hands around hers, gently...ever so gently, pulling her back to his side.
"She's done some pretty terrible things, Sarah, but that doesn't mean she's any less of a person to me. We were friends...and..."
The anger in her eyes wasn't ebbing away and he felt as if he were being cast in a downpour when he tried to find redemption in those stormy blue orbs.
"I know you don't get that..." he said slowly. "And I know what she's done is unforgiveable...but I can't pretend like I don't care. I don't wish for bad things to happen to her."
Even though Sarah never said so, he knew she did. She probably wished for far worse. Even the mention of Jill made her bristle, like a lioness with hackles raised and fangs bared.
Finally she sighs, and falls back down beside him, too tired to put up a fight. "I know," she growls, an admission that doesn't come easily. "You can't hate her. You can't bring yourself to hate anyone."
"You make it sound like a bad thing," he says softly. When guilt doesn't work, he tries the puppy-dog eyed approach but Sarah's a quick learner and purposely lies facing the other way.
"You know there's only you, right?"
It never occurred to him that it was something he even needed to ask, but when Sarah doesn't immediately respond—
"Sarah?"
Sarah turns around and stares at him, her eyes still hard and unrelenting. "I trust you," she says but not without a heavy-handed sigh. And not without deflecting the real question."But that doesn't mean I'll ever stop hating her."
Chuck closes his eyes. "That's fine," he says. It's not much of a compromise, but he knows what he's asked is like walking through a minefield. He's just lucky to be alive.
"I'm sorry for the mess," Chuck said. He really should have cleaned up the living room, as Sarah had advised him to do on more than one occasion. Life had been a whirlwind since their time in D.C.. Not long after they had decided rather spur of the moment to go for a trip across Europe, and now they were in the midst of buying a house in the suburbs. If it wasn't already packed away then it was strewn on a random flat surface, a relic of his forgetfulness.
Cole Barker walked slowly through the room, his eyes roving up and down, side to side, taking everything in. What did he deduce from all this, Chuck wondered. That he was a slob who never cleaned up after himself and played video games all day? He could almost hear Sarah laughing victoriously in the back of his mind.
"It's a nice place you have here..." he finally remarked.
"Thanks. If you like it, you should buy it. We're thinking of selling—" Chuck stopped himself when it occurred to him that it may not be the best idea to live so closely to a man who was most likely his wife's ex.
Cole Barker only smiled. He didn't look like he had any intention, and by the sounds of that accent, probably didn't even live in the country. Good thing, too.
"So you still work with Sarah?"
Chuck crossed his arms, his brows furrowing at the question. He wondered just how long it's been since they'd talked to one another.
"Uh...no, not anymore." Not professionally, at least.
Snapping his finger at him, Cole looked up with sudden realization. "That's right! You had some sort of brain injury and had to be put out of commission."
Chuck bit his lip. "Not exactly a brain injury," he corrected. "It was not mentally incapacitating anyway."
"Right." Cole smiled and it was such a friendly smile that even if Chuck were being mocked, he'd never be able to accuse him of it. "Well, it's a shame. Carmen always thought very highly of you."
Chuck smiled too. Finally, someone he knew! "You worked with her then?"
Cole wandered from the living room to the kitchen. "Yeah..." he remarked off-handedly as his eyes continued to scan the imminent surroundings. "Small world isn't it? She gave me your address awhile back but I haven't had time to visit L.A. until now." He smirked as he looked over his shoulder at Chuck. "Hard earned vacation time."
Chuck nodded his head like he understood. "Right. Must be."
"I've got a plane to catch tonight, but I thought the stopover here would be just long enough to catch up on old times."
Chuck shook his head in disbelief. "Wow...you people sure don't waste any time."
At last it seemed Cole had found what he'd been looking for. He pointed to an old Polaroid stuck to the fridge. "Ah, you guys still friends?"
Chuck frowned as he walked closer to examine what he was gesturing to. "Who? Me and Sarah?" He wanted to laugh. "I sure hope so..."
Cole shrugged. "Well, I heard she kind of ran off for a bit and left you boys stranded. Carmen had to come and take over, isn't that how the two of you met?"
Chuck twisted the solid silver band around his ring finger, wondering when and how he was going to bring the man up to date. "Yeah...I guess."
Cole turned back towards the Polaroid, staring at it for the second time in what felt like only two minutes. His hand reaches up to the border of the print and ever so gently traced the outline of Sarah's face.
The simple act struck a nerve with Chuck. He used to love that candid photo, but now he was gripped by a sudden urge to rip it off the fridge and hide it in his wallet.
It's just a photo. He's allowed to look at a photo. It was Sarah's picture anyway. What right did he have to want it all to himself?
"I've forgotten how beautiful she is," Cole murmured appreciatively. "She is, isn't she?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at Chuck.
Even though Chuck's thought the very same sentiment every day of his life since meeting her, it felt as if the words had been ripped from his lips. "Uh...yeah...yeah she is," he replied, struggling to swallow the lump in his throat.
Chuck tried to hide his disapproval but he couldn't blame Cole for admiring her. Technically, he had just made an objective observation. There was no harm in that. Even if it was slightly annoying.
"I still remember the time I asked her to go with me to Fiji..." Cole said, shaking his head.
Chuck's gut threatened to flip itself inside out. "Fiji?" he choked.
Definitely more than work partners then...
Cole smiled, a nostalgic glaze passing over his eyes. "Yeah, crystal blue waters, beautiful weather, drinking cocktails with little beach umbrellas in them..."
Chuck shook his head, trying to scour the images that came to mind. It was amazing how few prompts his imagination needed to run wild.
His favourite show is on the air but for the greater part of the first half hour, Chuck's zoned out so many times he doesn't know what's going on anymore. When the actors deliver the punch line and cue the laugh track, Chuck just furrows his brows in confusion.
One second he's relaxed and trying to enjoy the show; the next his hand hovers over the phone, almost like a knee jerk reaction. The call could come at any moment; good, bad, or perhaps just a desperate plea for help. He doesn't know, and that's why he can't relax.
It's not just that though. It's knowing there's no way for him to win. He'll betray someone if he answers, and he'll betray another if he doesn't.
Chuck isn't paying a lot of attention to what's on the screen so when he snaps out of his thoughts for what feels like the hundredth time in the evening, the first thing he catches is Sarah, sitting beside him on the couch, just staring at him.
He turns his head and she doesn't turn away. Her body language is casual, relaxed even, but her eyes watch him with an intensity that threatens to see right through him.
Right through all his lies.
"What?" he whispers. He holds her gaze only because the second he looks away will be one that spells out all his guilt.
Sarah shakes her head. "Nothing." Laughter spills from the TV, a cacophonic contrast to the sombre mood in the living room. When she looks at him, it's as if she knows and is just waiting for him to make a decision.
Chuck gulps. He knows she'll never understand, but she trusts him. And Sarah Walker doesn't trust anyone.
"You're staring at me."
Sarah blinks. "Am I?" she asks absent-mindedly, then turns to the TV to prove her innocence.
Chuck holds his breath. So long as she doesn't ask and he doesn't tell, it's not lying.
Well, it's splitting hairs at this point. If Sarah ever discovers the truth, she'd just see it exactly as it looks and leave him so fast it'll be like she never came back.
No.
Panic hits him like a bolt of lightning and he nearly jumps out of his seat. Instinctively his hand latches onto Sarah's and squeezes tight, as if she might leave him this instant and never come back.
"Chuck?" Sarah's gaze softens and she places her free hand overtop his, stacking their hands over one another's. "What's wrong?" She slides over to him on the couch and touches his face, his hair, everywhere but the surgery site. "What do you need? Are you in pain?" The expression she wears is something he's seen often enough with Ellie, but its unnerving to see Sarah lose control. "Should I call Dr. Cassel? Should I call the hospital?"
"Chuck!" she shouts when he realizes all he's done is squeeze her hand harder and harder. "Answer me!"
He says the first thing that comes to mind.
"I love you."
Sarah wrinkles her brow.
From his pocket Chuck pulls out his cell and places it in her open palm, closing her fingers over the object.
"I love you," he repeats. He's said it before, but he's never said it with so much hanging on the balance. He could lose everything in less than five minutes with what he's about to reveal.
The wrinkles across Sarah's forehead only deepen. If they had been only rivets before, they were trenches now. "Chuck..." She looks down at what he's given her, still not comprehending. "Why am I holding your cell?"
Chuck licks his lips nervously. They're dry and he's chewed them to shreds but still the compulsion is there. Anything to distract himself from what he's about to say.
"I love you—"
God! Why couldn't he say anything else?
"Chuck, I know." Sarah touches his forehead and compares the temperature to her own. "I think I need to take you back to the hospital, you're a little warm. And you're sweating," she pointed out, wiping her hand against her sweatpants.
"You know what my hands are like," he insisted. "I need to tell you something, Sarah..."
"I love you, too," she said, cutting him off. "And if you really love me, Chuck Bartowski, you will go with me to the hospital."
"She called."
He doesn't even have to say who.
Just like that, the pleading tugs on his arm fall away and Sarah sinks back down beside him on the couch.
"Don't freak out," he pleads in a slow, quiet voice. "But Jill called today."
There's a certain decisiveness to Sarah's movements when she makes up her mind about something. Today there's no rummaging through the purse at the door, no struggle with the lock; only the perfect singular sound of a key being turned in the hole and the door bursting wide open.
Chuck's ears perk up when he hears her footsteps. Her heels click forcefully against the hardwood floor, becoming only louder and more determined as they neared the center of the apartment.
He shares a look with the man sitting across from him at the kitchen bar, and despite all the absence of time, even Cole Barker is able to detect the mounting tension. Chuck gulps audibly. If it were any other time, he'd throw her words back at her about scuffing the hardwood floor; but today, he didn't think she'd care if he carved through it with a steak knife.
"Chuck? Chuck?" Her voice goes from clipped and serious to something bordering desperation. "Chuck!"
"In the kitchen," he answered. "We're in the kitchen."
Sarah appears a mere half second later, looking just as Chuck remembered from lunch hours before. He stands up to welcome her back, but as he draws nearer, it's the little things that give her away. Like the fact she's winded enough to be breathing through her mouth and trying to hide it, the way the storm-gray threatened to engulf the blue of her eyes, the way her hair's falling out of the tightly bound braid.
"Hey, Sarah," he greeted, approaching with as much wariness as if he were walking towards a wild animal.
Sarah looked at him, and then at the man standing less than a meter off to the side. Immediately her eyes light up in recognition and her body goes as rigid as a statue's.
Cole stood to his feet and walked towards her with almost as much caution as she reserved for him. Caught in the middle, Chuck couldn't help but get the feeling it was something like two long lost lovers meeting after decades apart.
"Hello Sarah, it's been awhile, hasn't it?"
Chuck turned his head and studied her profile carefully for any clues that could decipher what the man meant. Been awhile since what? Since they last spoke...shook hands...kissed—
Hesitantly and using only the lightest pressure, Chuck touched her shoulder. "You okay?"
Sarah snapped out of whatever she'd been caught up in, the muscles in her face easing as she looked first to her husband and then at the old acquaintance. "Yes..." she finally said. "It has."
The moment was rife with irony and none of it was lost on Chuck. He was the one staring at her now and she was the one facing the TV, seemingly mesmerized by the white noise. Sarah remained so silent and still Chuck wasn't sure if she was even listening until he finally stopped his onslaught of words long enough to catch his breath.
"I didn't tell her anything, I swear."
Except you're not supposed to be speaking to her. Moron, he heard himself say, in Casey's voice no less.
"The conversation didn't last longer than two minutes, five tops." He reached out to touch her shoulder but thought better of it. Sarah didn't look like she invited any sort of sentiment right now. "I'm sorry, Sarah. Use my cell. Do what you have to do. Track her down. Take her in."
Sarah was silent.
Slowly, in what felt like painful time-lapses, she reached for the remote on the coffee table and finally turned off the blasted TV. Then, even more slowly, she set his cell phone down on the wooden surface, right in the middle where both could reach, and left it there.
Chuck didn't understand. "Sarah?" He looked at her, begging her silently to please face him, but it only spurred her to continue staring at the blank screen in front of her.
Her jaw was locked in a mirthless expression and her arms were folded tightly across her chest. Loathe as Chuck was to make the comparison, she was as frigid a woman as General Beckman in that moment.
"What do you want me to do?" he implored.
I'll do it. I'll do anything.
"Please..." he whispered under his breath. He held himself together long enough not to beg any louder. There was a limit to how much dignity he was willing to lose; unfortunately with Sarah, it was pretty close to everything.
Wordlessly she nudged the phone over to his side of the coffee table. "Take it," she said, her voice quiet but rigidly controlled. A command, not a request.
Chuck did so meekly, even though he no longer wanted it. The guilty object burned in his hand like a searing hot brand, a constant reminder of what he's done wrong.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked again. "Just tell me, and I'll carry it out."
Sarah closed her eyes and stared down at the floor. "It's not up to me, Chuck," she finally said. "I'm off the team. I'm on leave."
And because she knew he didn't understand, she finally looked at him. "You're the agent here, Chuck. This is your case." It gave him little relief to know that she wasn't going to run out there and take down Jill herself. Her eyes were still dark with conflicted thoughts and her face was so severe it didn't look like she would ever smile again.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do."
He wished Sarah would just show him the way. For once, he just wants someone to tell him how things ought to be.
She answered as if she could read his mind. "You have to do what feels right to you," she said.
Chuck stared at her, wondering if this burden was anything like what she's had to carry around for the last five years. She's made her decision though, and he's never been more grateful...but—
What do you do when what feels right isn't the right thing to do?
'There's a lot of catching up to do,' Cole Barker had said, but what he meant was, 'catching up with Sarah'. Reliving the good ol' days, trading information about crime bosses—heck, he didn't know, but it wasn't anything he was privy to hear.
Chuck didn't usually regret his decision to stay away from that former life, nor did he regret encouraging Sarah to continue with what she enjoyed.
Only today, as he was hunched over the kitchen sink trying to prepare dinner while Sarah and Cole chatted by themselves in the living room, the shade of déjà vu descended upon him like a storm cloud.
The memory sent an involuntary shiver through Chuck's body. It was all too familiar. An evening with an old ex. The agent had been replaced but the cool charm, and promise of gun-toting, jet-setting excitement regrettably remained.
Chuck sighed as he finished washing the vegetables and turned off the tap. He couldn't do this. Not again. Not after what they'd already gone through.
"It's not that bad, is it?" asked a voice from behind.
Chuck nearly jumped out of his skin as he spun around. "Sarah!" he exclaimed. She grinned, baring her teeth like a lioness ready to pounce. "Don't do that!"
Sarah smiled as she plucked a stalk of celery from the wash pile and chomped down on the end. "It's not that bad, is it?" she asked again.
Coaxing his still beating heart to slow, Chuck turned back to the sink. "What isn't?"
"Washing vegetables." She smiled as she took another bite. "You deserve it though, for not listening to me." Chuck looked at her quizzically, unsure what she meant exactly. "I told you to let him sit outside," she reminded, whacking him gently with the celery stalk. "And now look, we're obligated to feed him."
Chuck couldn't quite tell if she was teasing or being sincere. She had sounded rather serious when she told him to keep the door shut. "Well, it's your friend," he mumbled, drying his hands on the dishcloth. He purposely avoided her gaze, in case he caught something in the reflection he'd rather not. A look of guilt, perhaps?
"Go ahead, Sarah, I can handle dinner tonight."
Sarah's smile waned. "Hey..." She dropped what she was eating and grabbed his elbow, making it impossible for him to look or run away. "What's the matter?"
Chuck shrugged even though he knew. He just didn't want to get into an argument over it while in the presence of the cause.
"Hey!" She yanked him back just as he attempted to turn towards the fridge. "Look at me."
Her voice left no room for defiance. He did as she asked, staring into those familiar and yet paradoxically unpredictable blue eyes, wondering what was going through her mind with all this.
Her forehead creased as she furrowed her brows in concentration. He had no idea; none at all, but it seemed she read him far better than he could her.
"He's an old friend," she said. "We've worked with him before, the both of us."
Chuck said nothing as he pressed his forehead to hers. Was he really that easy to read? Caught in plain sight with the green-eyed monster, he wasn't sure how to pose the question with what remaining dignity he had left.
"Like Bryce?"
Just like that, the tables shifted and now it was his turn to hold onto her. All it took was one glance into those stormy blue eyes to know it had been more than platonic friendship.
Sarah opened her mouth, looking ready to shoot him down, but no sound escaped. She looked at him with a horrified expression, her lips quivering but still...silence.
Was she upset because she couldn't find a good excuse? Or was she upset because he knew about Cole?
"No!" she finally spluttered, her voice quiet but pitched with insistence. "No!"
"Really?" They were like a pair of children on a teeter-totter. One minute he was the one filled with insecurities and the next minute it was her. "You've never kissed him?"
"No—" She stopped herself, blood draining from her face as she recalled a fallacy in the oath. "Fine. Once." She held up her index finger to show him just how insignificant of a number that was. "Just once." Sarah looked desperately at him, pleading with her own version of the puppy-dog eyes. "That's it. And that was a long time ago. Please don't be angry."
Chuck smiled. How could he be angry when she'd simply spoken the truth?
"It's okay," he soothed. He couldn't deny that it bothered him to envision his wife in the arms of another man, but he'd probably already dealt with it before the memory loss. There was no point stewing over it again. "Honestly, I think he's a step up from Bryce."
Mistaking the tone of his tease, Sarah's eyes widened in panic. "No! I told you, Chuck, nothing happened—"
"Sarah, it's okay," he said, trying to ease away her knitted brows with a kiss. "Whatever you guys did, whatever happened...you don't need to be completely honest with me. Because really, I don't want to know what you guys did or didn't do in Fiji."
"Fiji." Sarah stared up at him uncomprehending the association between the exotic locale and their current topic. Then, suddenly, as if a switch had been flicked in the recesses of her memory, Sarah's eyes darkened and she glared murderously in the general direction of the living room.
"Fiji..." she repeated, through gritted teeth. "Is that what he told you? That I went to Fiji with him? Because I didn't, I never even intended on going." Sarah's face was livid with fury. "I can't believe he would have you think that—"
"Sarah!" Chuck flushed with embarrassment. Okay. Maybe he'd read a little too much between the lines. Maybe Cole Barker never explicitly said he had gone to Fiji with Sarah. "I misunderstood. It's my fault. Please don't murder our guest."
Sarah looked as if she'd seriously contemplated the idea of it. Sighing, she collapsed into Chuck's arms, resting against him as she so often did after a long day at the office.
"Don't be mad. Don't freak out," Chuck pleaded as he stroked her long blond hair, destroying what little remained of the braid from his morning. "But I think Mr. Barker's still pining for you."
Sarah raised her head, her eyes a warning to go no further.
"It's okay. I know you love me," Chuck said. Not one to make assumptions, the words sounded strange coming from his mouth.
"Do you?" she asked, wrinkling her brows. She shook her head as she reached up and raked both hands through his curly brown hair, coaxing him to tilt his head down closer to hers. "Sometimes I don't think you do."
Chuck smirked as he wrapped both arms around her waist, pressing her body against his in what felt like a permanent embrace. "I know. I just like being reminded every now and then."
Sarah finally smiled and it was brilliant in its radiance and clarity. It was like the smile of a child; no worries, no strings attached. A smile, just for him.
It's been a strange morning, and he tells Sarah so in the car. She doesn't say anything and that's strange in itself because she looks as if driving home from the hospital is the hardest task she's ever been pegged with and she needs every ounce of concentration to do it right.
"You okay?" he asks. She looks at him strangely, like it ought to be the other way around.
Chuck woke up without a headache for the first time in weeks, but his body felt so leaden he could barely raise the sheets to get out of bed. His hands felt as if ten pound weights have been tethered to the ends and his head was suddenly too heavy for his neck to support.
Not a 'morning person' by nature, this morning in particular was especially rough.
Not that Chuck was altogether concerned. He knew it was not because the surgeon had nicked a vessel in his brain or left some foreign object there by accident. He knew the exact cause and source of this new manifestation, and that was why he tried to persuade Sarah from an immediate visit to the hospital.
It didn't work. And even after Dr. Cassel insisted he hadn't 'screwed up' as Sarah so adamantly accused him of doing, it still wasn't enough. She'd left in a huff, dragging Chuck back to the car and swearing to find him a better neurologist in L.A..
There wasn't one, but that's beside the point.
"You sure you're okay?" Even as he asked the question, he knew he was the one who sounded as if he'd been dragged behind the car and broken every bone in his body. He felt awful, even though he had no reason to be.
And every reason to be.
He'd tried so hard not to be changed by his experiences but could he really say he was still the same person?
Sarah was still focused on the road but for a second, her eyes flitted in his direction and resounded with concern.
"Yeah. I'm fine," she said.
Worst denial ever.
Chuck dropped the subject, too tired to argue with her. They both knew, anyway, that when she was ready, she'd tell him.
He looked away and let her devote herself to the mission at hand, but from the reflection in the glass, he knew her eyes weren't on the road.
He drifted off, staring at the mirror-image of her, staring back at him.
Dinner was an interesting affair. After so many stereotypes and one personal experience involving bad British fodder, Chuck wasn't sure what kind of expectations their guest had. To play it safe, he told Cole Sarah had prepared the meal and he'd simply heated it up.
Chuck could tell his wife wasn't pleased to be pitted with the compliments (or perhaps the blame) but his instincts were right and Cole had nothing but high praise for the food. He could have probably served pig slop and received the same level of esteem.
"Really...this is nothing," Sarah said, glaring at her husband.
"No. No, Sarah, this is really excellent. I guess you really are the whole package. Beauty, brains, and an amazing cook."
Chuck bit down on his fork to keep from laughing but it wasn't enough to save him from the quick kick he received in the shin. There were a million and one things he loved about his wife, but her cooking was not one of them.
"Thank you, Cole," she said tersely. "But really, this is nothing. Please don't mention it." She put an extra emphasis on the 'please', and already her face was blushing from all the effusive praise the guest had lauded her with.
Cole chewed thoughtfully and nodded, mentally promising to drop the subject, however perplexing it might be that the chef didn't want to be congratulated on a dinner well done.
"So, Chuck, are you seeing anyone these days?"
Chuck nearly choked on his steak. Across the table, Sarah's knife clattered against the plate and she stared at him with her jaw hanging wide open.
"Wh-what?" he gasped, drinking a few quick gulps of wine to keep from coughing up his food. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that."
Not even Sarah's menacing glare was enough to deter Cole from asking again. "Have you got a girlfriend?" he asked, so casually it was as if he had absolutely no peripheral vision at all. Had he, he would have realized there was a certain individual seconds from impaling him with the steak knife. "'cause I could introduce you to some nice girls, all very lovely—"
"No, thank you." Chuck said quickly. He wiped his mouth with the napkin, purposefully using his left hand so Cole could see the wedding band on his finger. "I'm good in that department, thank you."
Cole nodded appreciatively. "Ah! Well, congratulations. I didn't realize you found someone after Miss St. Clair but that's just as well."
"Carmen St. Clair?" Sarah demanded, dropping her utensils altogether and pushing the plate out of her way. "Carmen St. Clair dated Chuck Bartowski?"
Chuck gulped. He was eternally grateful he had been the one pegged with amnesia because he wasn't sure all the assurances and apologies in the world could convince Sarah he'd never dated the woman otherwise.
In fact, he wasn't completely sure he hadn't.
Chuck looked curiously at Cole. "Did I?" It only dawned on him how stupid it sounded after the words had escaped his mouth.
Cole laughed good-naturedly, still oblivious to the giant hole he was digging for himself. "You didn't know, Sarah?" he asked, smiling with amusement. "Don't deny it, Chuck. She's already told me all about it."
"I'm sure she has," Sarah said flatly, the words ending clipped and dismissive. "Did she also tell you about her trysts with Colonel Casey?"
Cole Barker's eyes widened in shock and Chuck's jaw dropped. Really? Carmen was with Dr. Casey?
"Really?" the men asked in unison.
"Really," she confirmed, nodding her head in conviction. When she looked at Chuck, her eyes sparkled with so much mischief he had to look away or risk being blinded.
"Huh," Cole murmured, with a confused look on his face. "Well that's news to me."
Chuck had to bite down on his lips to keep from bursting out in laughter. He couldn't believe she was doing this. He didn't even want to think about the repercussions.
"Oh, believe me, she was crazy about him. It bordered on pathological obsession..." Sarah informed, somehow managing to put on a completely serious mask. "It was an embarrassment, really. She couldn't keep her hands off of him. Why do you think they don't work together anymore? John Casey had to ask for a restraining order against her."
Chuck kept his head down and chewed on his food, trying to distract himself so he wouldn't ruin the priceless moment. When he stole a glance in Sarah's direction, he swore he'd never seen her have so much fun.
"Well...that does make sense..." Cole remarked thoughtfully. "She's been overseas for quite a few years now. But Chuck—" Suddenly the spotlight was centered back on him and Chuck had to bite his tongue not to give anything away. "It must have been horrible for you. Your girlfriend and your best friend. I'm so sorry."
The words had a sobering effect on Chuck. It had been his girlfriend and a different best friend.
"Yeah, I was devastated," he deadpanned, shooting Sarah a look. "She broke my heart, smashed it to pieces."
Chuck tried to hide the amusement from entering his eyes, but seeing Sarah smile, he knew he had failed and failed miserably. At least Cole didn't notice.
"Her loss," she said, looking to their guest. "Luckily for him, I was there to pick up the pieces." She flashed the ring on her left hand in case he didn't catch on. This evening was proof Cole Barker wasn't very good at noticing details unless they were shoved right under his nose.
"She's my knight in shining armour," Chuck piped. They stared at each other, and he wondered how people didn't get sick around them. Sometimes he made himself sick with their cheesiness.
"Oh," Cole said, finally getting it. "Oh!" He looked from Chuck to Sarah then back to Chuck. "I'm so sorry, I had no idea. I-I—no one told me." He stared long and steadfast at Sarah. "You're married. Really. Really?" There was a tinge of disenchantment in the way he said it. Chuck almost wondered how many 'reallys' the man needed in order to believe it.
"Really," Sarah confirmed, holding up her wedding ring again for him to see.
It was like hearing a death sentence. Cole Barker didn't even try to hide his disappointment. "Well...that's a pity. Carmen never mentioned anything about that."
Sarah smiled. "No. And I'll bet she never mentioned anything about her and Bryce Larkin."
Chuck's jaw dropped. No way.
Sarah nodded subtly in his direction, her grin positively devilish. Cole looked just as surprised. "No...she never mentioned that either," he said, looking very perplexed.
Chuck cleared his throat, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. "So...would anyone else like more beefcake—" He nearly choked on the Freudian slip. "—Beefsteak. Would anyone care for more beefsteak?"
Sarah hid her face from him as she giggled into her hand. "No, honey, I think I've had quite enough."
Sarah was still staring at him the next time Chuck opened his eyes. Gone was the anger and vindication from those blue orbs; all that was reflected in them now was anxious concern.
Like she didn't expect him to wake again.
Chuck rubbed his eyes drowsily. "Did I fall asleep?"
He heard Sarah sigh softly beside him. Relief slowly eased the deep lines of worry from her features but it was not enough. He knew that look; knew what she'd been thinking.
"Just for a little while."
She stroked his hair gently, her long slender fingers lingering on the shorter half-curls by his ear. Above all, she refused to go near his scar.
"We're at my place. Do you think you can walk to the elevator?"
Chuck looked out the car window and saw that they were already parked by the familiar hotel. He had no idea how much time had passed, or how quickly she had driven once he was not there to nag.
"Yeah. Should be." He was filled with a sense of sadness when he realized neither of them considered it 'home'.
Just as he was about to open the car door, she grabbed his arm. "Wait."
Chuck sank back into the passenger seat. He held his breath and gave her hand an encouraging squeeze.
Sarah sighed, the words still caught in her throat. They sat in silence, waiting for her to overcome all her hard-wired instincts. He loves her more than she knows at that moment; she's just as flawed as the rest of them, but she tried.
"They've found Jill."
Chuck takes a sharp intake of breath. Now it was Sarah's turn to squeeze his hand.
"You okay?" She stroked his hair gently, her hand trailing down to the nape of his neck. "I didn't want to tell you...because, well...." She stopped herself.
Chuck read her expression clearly. She wasn't hiding anything from him when she admitted the truth. "I'm not sorry she's been apprehended, but I'm sorry...for you. I know this must be hard."
Chuck nodded silently. The ache in his chest was almost as bad as the headaches. He felt nostalgic for them already. At least then there was a physical blame for his pain.
"Do you want to see her?" Her voice cracked as she posed the question, and one look into her watershed blue eyes told Chuck that she was only asking as a courtesy.
He wrapped his arm slowly around her and heard her shiver under her breath. If this were any other occasion, he wouldn't have dared believe it. Sarah Walker was...scared?
"No."
He surprised himself and her with the answer. No, he didn't need to see her. They'd already said their goodbyes. She'd already made her choice.
And this was his.
Sarah looked as if she didn't believe him. "Really?" she asked, giving him a second chance.
Chuck nodded solemnly, just slow enough so she would know he really meant it.
"I'm sorry, Chuck," she whispered. She looked away and when she turned her head back, her eyes had a noticeably glass-like quality to them. "I know this wasn't easy for you. And I'm sorry that you had to choose."
She knows.
Chuck looked at her in question, but she only stared blankly back, refusing to acknowledge what she's just revealed unless he spoke first.
The leaden guilt tied around Chuck begins to slowly unwind, falling and leaving him weightless. He knows he did the right thing, but at the end of the day, a betrayal for the greater good was still a crime all the same.
He didn't know how to tell her. Didn't know how to tell anyone. And in the end it became his deepest, darkest, secret. A decision he'd made by his own choosing; one that signified he was no longer the same person he was five years ago.
And she'd known. She'd known all along.
"I"m sorry." The confession was a difficult one to make. "I should have done it sooner."
He leaned back in his seat, relieved he no longer had to contend with the guilt alone. Grateful that she accepted him for what he'd done. His innocence had been the most endearing thing for her, but she didn't appear as if she loved him any less without it.
"Thank you for trusting me to make the right decision." He pushed the stray strands of hair back behind her ear and wiped the thin shimmering trail of tears from her cheeks.
It hadn't been an easy decision for Chuck, but for Sarah... "It couldn't have been easy for you to just sit back."
What if he hadn't made the call? Could she have forgiven him? Could she have let it go?
Sarah wrapped her arms completely around him, burying her face into his chest. When Chuck tried to soothe her by rubbing her back, he could still feel shivers ripple through her entire body.
"Thank you..." she whispered, almost like a sigh of relief. "Thank you for staying with me."
It finally dawns on him what she means. What this has been about, all these weeks.
"The choice was between my friend and my job. Not you," he said, looking down at her. She was an angel, tears and all, and the thought she'd misinterpreted even for a second pained him. "It was never a choice between you or her, do you understand?"
Never.
"But—" Chuck didn't let her finish. He already knew what she was going to say. That his actions spoke for themselves. How he'd been willing to risk the surgery for her, how he'd hesitated to report her call, how he'd pleaded with Sarah not to chase after her—
"There was never a choice," he said. He rattled her shoulders, in case she needed the sense shaken into her. "It'll always be you. Just you. Do you understand?"
Sarah lowered her eyes, her cheeks the only hint of life on her otherwise pale stricken features. If he didn't know better, she was blushing.
"Understood," she whispered, as she ran her hand through his hair, stitches and all.
Try as he might, Chuck could not bring himself to hate Cole Barker. By the end of the evening, he could easily see how Sarah could (or could not have) had a thing for the agent. He was charming in every way, from the lilt in his words to the very scruff around his face; nothing about him seemed off-putting or dangerous—well, Chuck knew he wasn't very good at first impressions anyway.
When it was finally time for them to bid their guest farewell, Chuck felt endeared enough to even welcome his one-time saviour to visit another time. It was a gesture he couldn't offer to Bryce for months after what had happened the last time the man had visited.
"Okay. Guess I'll be going now," Cole said, though he lingered by the door.
Sarah nodded. "Yeah. Guess I'll see you around," she said, vague parting words. She, of all people, understood how different their lives were now. Who knew when they would see him again.
"Yeah. Goodnight then." Still, the man lingered, his eyes aimed reproachfully at the blond. Chuck wondered what the hesitation was for, but gazing sidelong at his wife, it seemed a part of Cole Barker was still waiting for her to change her mind.
To take that offer and head down to Fiji.
To wake up and realize what she's been missing out all this time.
It frightened Chuck a little, because he's always known that he was holding her back. Marriage was about compromise, but a part of him still wished he could give her everything she needed and wanted.
It was these types of men, the Bryce's and Cole's of the world, that Chuck feared the most, because he knew no matter what he did, he could never offer her what they could.
"It was nice seeing you again, Sarah...and you too, Chuck." The latter bit felt like an afterthought.
Sarah smiled but remained by her husband's side. "Yeah. You too," she said, agreeing with him without offering any further sentiments. She wrapped her arm around Chuck's waist and rested her head against his shoulder, prompting him to put his arms around her.
"Goodnight," she said, in a tone that spoke full of choices. And it was clear she'd made hers. She was staying by his side.
.
Next chapter's title remains to be determined but let's just say someone gets very very mad and someone needs to go to therapy. Who will it be...?
Thanks for reading! If you liked this or any of the previous chapters, please consider dropping me a line. It would mean a lot =)