A/N: Sorry I've been MIA for the past week or two. I've been having my exams (failed pretty much everything) and I didn't have much time to write this. I hope this chapter makes up for the long hiatus! Many, many thanks to theprincess1511, as I couldn't have written this chapter without her awesome help. Also, a huge thank-you to nirvana12 who has been graciously coming up with so many awesome ideas for this story (and you will see some of them in the coming chapters, if not this one) Thank you so much, fellow readers, for your kind patience as I struggle to dish out chapters. I hope I'll be able to update more soon. I love you guys (:
I'm not a doctor, so I have no idea what's going on in a hospital (maybe I should watch House or Mercy or ER?) so please do correct me if I have any factual errors! :D
Reviews are like hugs - when you review, you're making someone's day. (;
West Side Hospital
Two days after – 15th November
4:38PM
All she sees is white – the white walls, the white sheets and the white spots that dot her vision as she views her surroundings with increasing annoyance. Then she feels the pain, slicing and biting at the wounds that mar her body, even as she lies stock-still on the hospital bed – the memories inevitably flooding her mind. She smirks at the fact that Fernandez would probably never be able to reproduce, or defecate ever again.
Oh God, she breathes, as the pain flares in her waist. But she can't find the energy to even raise her arm to the button by the side that would grant her the sweet induction of painkillers. The discomfort only continues to grow as the throbbing intensifies, and she squirms slightly, letting out tiny moans and groans when her dry, raw throat allowed her. Damn it, Walker. Suck it up.
But she could only whimper as the bandages begin to itch.
The door to her private room cracks open slightly, and her head whips instantly toward the sound. Her eyes light up in a mixture of surprise and pure joy at the sight of the brawny middle-aged man whose head protrudes from the door, eyes scanning the room in an instant, eventually meeting her own pair.
She squints slightly, vision still slightly hazy. He's dressed in a janitor's outfit. Huh, interesting.
"Alex Coburn, is that you?" She winces at her cracking voice, weary from lack of use.
"It's John Casey now."
"And John Casey is a... janitor?"
"Head Custodian and Supervisor of Security," he announces smugly, quickly moving into the room and shutting the door behind him. At her sceptical, disbelieving expression, he frowns. "Some of us actually have to make a living, Walker."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry," she shakes her head, regretting the decision almost immediately when more white spots cloud her vision. "Gah, damn it... I'm sorry, Cobu – Casey. I forgot you're retired. Still can't believe the Company let you go, just like that."
"Yeah, well, the NSA doesn't exactly burn their agents like the CIA."
"Huh, I doubt it. I think you're just old."
He lets out a snigger, falling easily into their easy banter that had once been the core of their three-year inter-company partnership. Back then, she had just been recruited out of Harvard, a wet-behind-the-ears rookie from the CIA, while Alex Coburn was a seasoned veteran in the field. She was pretty much the best damned partner he'd ever had.
"Carina called."
"Oh, that bitch totally owes me now."
"She's sorry that she can't send flowers." He shares a knowing look with her, and nods at her raised eyebrows. "She's in lockdown. Interrogation."
"You can't be serious? They think she planned it? But the clean-up teams –"
"Found only bodies and a whole lot of blood on the ground. No Fernandez, no Carina, and then you're brought in here, which only alerted Beckman to inform the director."
"And Carina's brought into custody. Damn," she clenches her fist, resisting the urge to slam it against a hard surface, even though her weakened state would've barely allowed her to. Then she begins to grin slightly. "Did they find part of his package?"
"Package? No, Carina didn't mention anything about a package."
She smirks, holding back a snigger, lest she wanted to rip her stitches. "Oh, okay."
"What is it, Walker? What's the package?" He demands, frowning as he folds his muscular arms over his chest. "Don't tell me he's got another load of mules there, or I'll kill the guy myself."
"Nah, it's nothing really. I just don't think Fernandez will be... functional for a while. I shot him at least three times."
He grunts, nodding, as an easy silence drifts over them. She watches with amusement as a slow, easy grin grows on his face as the realization sets in. He grunts with pride. "Always knew you'd do it someday, Walker. Lord knows how many times you've threatened me with that."
He settles against the glass panel in the door, blocking most of her view, but she still spots the distinct, widening eyes that stare back at her in that split second of eye contact, in that sliver of transparent glass. It's him.
"The eyes," she whispers, the memories, once again hitting her with a rush of incessant emotions that she fought to keep under. Brown eyes. His hand over hers. She'd never felt so warm before. His eyes. Beautiful, brown eyes. "Hold on, ma'am. Just hold on, don't let go. I'm right here. Hold on." It's him. Those eyes.
Oh, God. "It's him."
"It's who?" He breaks her out of her reverie, and follows her gaze out of the room, into the retreating form of Chuck Bartowski.
"Casey, Casey, Casey, w-wait, before you kill me or anything, I swear, I wasn't eavesdropping or anything. I-I was just checking up on her."
"Put a sock in it, Bartowski. If I wasn't head of security, oh I'd..." He trailed off, leaving the other man's imagination to fill in the blanks of his unfinished threat. He releases the grip on Chuck's coat collars, and the lanky doctor lets out a yelp as he clatters to the floor in a heap.
"Who is she anyway, how do you know her?" He asks inquisitively, as he rises to stand, grabbing onto the door handle for some support. Casey's eyes widen in alarm.
"Watch it, Bartowsk–"
But the door had already been pushed open, and he tumbles backwards into her room, sprawled ungracefully on the cold, tiled floor. He groaned loudly, exaggeratedly, the pain in his back already causing discomfort as he writhed around on the ground.
"Um, hi there," he smiles sheepishly, waving at her enthusiastically from his position on the floor. He shrugged at her incredulous, expression, tinted with slight amusement."It's... it's nice down here."
He watched a tiny smile blossom on her face, and he decided that it was the smile that he would've loved to see on a daily basis. He watches her as she tries to keep a straight face at the hilarious sight of Casey hauling him to his feet. Smooth, Chuck. Real smooth.
"Get out of here, moron," Casey shoves him violently out the door, but she still catches the dazzling grin that he shoots her way.
"Casey, wait."
The janitor whirls around in confusion, fingers not releasing the back of Chuck's collar. Chuck pops his head back into the room, offering a toothy, grateful smile at her protest.
"Dr Bartowski, right?" She smiled, finding the strength to lift her hand to grip his in a handshake. His hand was warm, smooth and comforting, and she feels a lingering tingling sensation even after he breaks their momentary grasp.
"I just wanted to thank you," she smiled, gesturing toward Casey with a nod. "Our friend here told me that you brought me in."
Casey cleared his throat, recalling no such thing in the course of their conversation. As her steely glare pins him to his spot, he had no choice but to play along. She'll blow off your man-parts, man. Just do as she says! Damn, Walker. First time I'm actually scared of someone.
He cleared his throat again, this time exaggeratedly. Slapping a hand against Chuck's back, he grins as the younger man turned to him with narrowed eyelids and a wince. "Yeah, I did. Just thought you'd like some credit, Bartowski."
"Oh, you're very welcome, Miss... Sorry, I'm afraid I don't have your name."
She hesitated for a moment, studying his brown eyes with her own. Her father had always pointed out her knack for reading people by the tone of their eyes. Beautiful, brown eyes. He was beautiful. "Sarah Walker."
He gave her an elegant bow, eliciting a rather pointed roll of the eyes from his colleague and the flicker of a smile from the beautiful enigma lying on the hospital bed. "You're very welcome, Ms Walker."
A split second before the moment turned to one of extreme awkwardness, he clasps his hands together, facing both the occupants of the room. "So, since Casey won't tell me anything – and I don't mean to intrude, I mean, sure this is intruding but I don't mean to pry or anything, I'm just being curious and all. Wait, I guess that's being intrusive –"
At Casey's barely disguised growl of frustration, which was a common occurrence around him – he wasn't sure why – he finally got to the point. "How... do you two know each other?" He directed his finger between both of them, and watched as the two faced each other with knowing glances.
"We, uh, we worked together once –"
"FBI."
"Whoa, FBI? Casey, you were FBI?"
"Sure, announce it to the world, numb-nuts."
"Oh, come on, we're in an enclosed room. FBI? Buddy, you worked for the F.B.I? And you never told me?"
"Oh, I apologize, Bartowski. I had no idea we were buddies," he accentuated the word with quotation marks. Chuck rolled his eyes, before turning toward Sarah, just to include her in the conversation.
"Ms Walker –"
"Please, just Sarah."
"Alright, just call me Chuck then," he smiled. "Sarah, if I'm not being too forward, that's how you got shot, isn't it?"
She furrowed her brow slightly, nodding. "Yeah, uh, it is."
"Wait, so Beckman knows about this? Is that... is that why she reassigned me?"
He swore he saw a flash of disappointment cross her face. It's your imagination. He felt the same way, imagination or not. She spoke in a whisper. "So you're not my doctor then?"
He shrugged nonchalantly, hiding his obvious displeasure of the new arrangements. "I guess not, but I haven't seen anyone going in and out of your room for the better part since you've arrived." His face was flooded with a tinge of red. "Not that I was looking specifically at your hospital room, you know. I was, uh, looking in the general direction of your room."
"Keep it in your pants, Bartowski."
He blushed even more, wanting nothing more than to bury himself into the ground and tunnel his way back to safe house that was his office. And maybe he could kill himself there. No, no. Quinn needs me, he reasoned. He redirected his shy glances away from her, keeping his eyes directed into the metaphorical dancing purple elephant on the floor. If he had been looking at her, however, he would've noticed the amused – almost flattered – grin that she had thrown his way.
"Alright, so I should be heading back now, I've got a pending visit with the lovely Quinn Matthews ," he smiled disarmingly. His mind played cruel tricks on him as he could've sworn her face had darkened before returning into a schooled mask, wiped clean of emotion, save for the ghost of a smile that lingered on. He stuck out a hand again, out of politeness and out of wanting to feel that electrifying spark that he had felt moments before.
"It was nice to meet you, Sarah. I'm sure you'll be up and about in no time." He graced her with his blinding smile, bringing out the old doctor's joke before he closed the door behind him. "I hope I never see you again!"
He failed hear the tiny whisper that escaped her lips, "I hope not."
West Side Hospital
Department of Oncology
15th November
5:27PM
"I'm losing my mind, I'm losing my mind, I'm losing my mind," he muttered it as though it were his lifelong mantra. A hand brushed against his cheek, moving to take his hand in hers. He opened his eyes to meet the most beautiful pair of eyes he had ever gazed into – well, one of them. A certain pair of baby blues had reached the top of his list that very afternoon.
"You're not crazy, Dr Chuck," Quinn grinned, giving his hand a tiny squeeze which he reciprocated. "You know who's crazy?"
Chuck shrugged, a smile already blossoming across his face. It was hard to be sad around the bubbly little girl in front of him. "I don't know. Who's crazy?"
"Spongeboob!"
He burst out in a fit of laughter as she imitated the cartoon character, protruding her own two front teeth and wrapping herself in the yellow blanket that had previously been draped across her lap. "Isn't it supposed to be Spongebob?"
"I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready!" She chanted, bouncing heartily on the bed and settling back into her comfortable spot when Chuck had begged her to stop. He brushed his hand over her bare scalp again, eyes glazing over as he took in the sight of her – he loved her as though he were her own daughter.
"Spongebob!"
She saluted, expression turning serious. "Aye, Mr Krabs!"
"What are ye doin' all standin' around for? I'm not payin' ya to do nothin'!"
She giggled. "But you don't pay us at all, Mr Krabs!" Her voice went high and nasal – Squidward.
"Get back to work, ye landlubbers!"
"What's a landlubber?"
"I have no idea," he deadpanned, and she began to thrash about on her bed in a fit of giggles.
"You're not crazy, Dr Chuck," she repeated, grinning from ear to ear. "Why would you say that? Is it because you've got a girlfriend?" She stretched the last word cheekily, sniggering in delight when his cheeks began to burn a noticeable shade of red.
"No, no, not a girlfriend. She's just a friend," he replied, his voice an octave lower than usual.
She fell silent, still panting from her slight workout, gazing at him with her bright green eyes. "Dr Chuck?"
"Yeah, sweetie?"
"I can be your girlfriend if she doesn't want to."
"Thank you, Princess. But it's alright."
"Dr Chuck?"
He chuckled. "Hmm?"
"Do you think Mummy and Daddy are gonna come visit me soon?"
He paled visibly as he felt his heart implode into, what possibly was, a thousand pieces. She faced away from him, and for that, he was extremely grateful that she did not witness him brush away the unshed tears in his eyes. Kids – so brutally honest, so... curious.
No, they aren't coming back, Princess. "You made them a promise, didn't you? That you'd stay here and once you get better, they'll come pick you up. Don't you remember?"
She curled up on her side, and he shifted in his chair uncomfortably. He didn't receive a reply.
"You're doing extremely well, honey. So it shouldn't be long till you see them again!"
No reply.
"Come on, Princess. How about we skip over today's session, huh? You wanna take a walk outside again?" He spoke softly, afraid to break the acute silence that had enveloped them like a fragile sheet of paper that would've torn with any sudden movement or sound.
Nothing.
He brushed a hand over the top of her head and left the room, shutting the door with a last worried back glance. He settled back in his office. He leaned back in his chair, sipping the fresh cup of coffee that had mysteriously appeared on his desk again, along with the note, "You rock my world, Chuck Bartowski!"
George and Maggie Matthews. The headlines were still fresh in his mind.
"Five killed in Tragic accident"– An accident occurred on a California highway at approximately 10:47PM of October 5th 2009, taking the lives of five commuters travelling on the Santa Monica Freeway, on Interstate 10.
He squeezed his eyes shut and proceeded to massage his temple. "A year," he breathed, as though the words themselves made absolutely no sense. "An entire year and I haven't even told her." How could I...?
Among the unfortunate casualties are George Matthews and his wife, Maggie Powell, who had been travelling along the freeway, when the truck had overturned in their vehicle's path, as witnesses have reported. . .
"Told who?"
He jumped a mile into the sky, his heartbeat pumping in wild palpitations as the shock set in. He looked up to the smiling face of his sister's boyfriend, whom he saw on a daily basis, judging by the fact that he lived under the same roof as said Captain of Awesome. He forced a smile, greeting the awesome man with a meek, "Hey."
"Dude, mind if I come in for a bit? I've got, uh," the blonde doctor looked over his shoulder nervously. "I've got something important to discuss with you, bro." He mouthed the word Ellie, if Chuck had deciphered it correctly. He was never one for lip-reading.
Devon seated himself in one of chairs opposite Chuck's desk, folding his arms as he shot Chuck a grave look. "Dude, your sister's been worried about you."
"W-what? Why should she be?" He chuckled unconvincingly. Then he narrowed his eyes into slits. "Wait, did she send you to talk to me?"
"Indeed, bro. Indeed."
"And...?"
"Well, Chuck," he stared pointedly at him. "It has come to my attention that – one, you're not sleeping enough. Two, you're not eating well enough. And three, you've been drinking way too much coffee to be considered healthy. What's up with you, bro?"
He sighed, leaning into the soft leather of his desk chair. "I'm fine, Devon. I've just... got a lot on my plate at this particular moment."
He eyed his almost-brother-in-law curiously when the other man remained silent. Devon pointed a finger in his direction. "You know what you need?"
"No, I – I don't know what I need. And frankly, I think I want to know what I need." He'd been through Devon's methods once before and that incident, unfortunately, had ended in a trip to his very own hospital when he had been attacked by a not-so-adorable-after-all raccoon while hiking in the woods with Devon himself. It hadn't been pretty.
"Come on, Chuck. No more hiking stuff, don't worry. I still haven't forgotten your Raccoon incident. I'll just whip up some of my ginseng protein shake for you," Devon raised an eyebrow, and began to wiggle it. "It does miracles for your wang energy, if you know what I mean."
"I really, really don't, Devon." He collapsed his face into his hands.
"Which just brings me to point out one fact – you need a lady, my friend."
"All out of those," Chuck quipped jokingly, with a forced smile.
"Ah, but a little birdie named Morgan has already informed me that you have your eyes set on a particular lady friend, eh?"
"I'd rather not get into that... She's a patient, and I am barely part of her league, let alone species."
"Uhuh, but she's not your patient, is she? You've been taken off her case. You're not her doctor. And about the species part... Believe me, Chuck, you may be a nerd, geek... whatever, but you've got that charm. And I happen to know that the Bartowskis' are very charming, passionate people."
He felt the sour taste of disgust fill his mouth. "Oh God, Devon, don't ever talk about my sister that way again. Please." He stood up and shuffled around his office, whispering, "Brain bleach... where's that brain bleach."
"Are you on drugs?"
He whirled around, meeting highly analytical eyes with his own shocked pair. "I am not! How could you even suggest such a thing?"
"I dunno, I was watching House the other day," Devon shrugged. "And Thirteen was totally drowning herself in drugs. Olivia Wilde is smokin'."
"Oh, it must've been a re-run – I've seen that one before." he said tiredly, re-settling back into his chair, hoping for a change in subject.
"Well, bro. I've gotta run, but I think you should go pay a visit to your lady friend," Devon slipped him a wink as he closed the distance to the door. "I hear she's been giving her doctor loads of crap."
"She has? In what way?" He replied, puzzled expressions crossing his face as he too, stood up politely, walking the other man to the door. When did my replacement take over?
"Oh, you know, doesn't respond when asked a question, won't take any of the prescribed painkillers. I heard she busted his nose when he tried to administer it himself." Despite the situation, Chuck had barely managed to stifle a giggle.
"Well, see you later, Chuck," Devon smirked as he walked away, coughing into his hand to disguise a chuckle as Daniel Shaw walked by with a heavily bandaged nose. Then he furrowed his brow. Wasn't he suspended?
"Hello, Chuck," he glowered; a menacing smile that did not belong had spread across his face. "I just wanted to come by and thank you for giving me that wake up call, buddy. Beckman gave me a second chance and I'm not about to waste it. I'm now the doctor of one gorgeous Sarah Walker."
"Didn't she give you that broken nose too?" Chuck – 1; Shaw – 0
His expression hardened slightly, his smile immediately faltering. "Stay away from her, Bartowski. I saw you meddling around outside her room with those idiots, Jeff and Lester. I'm going to woo her, and by the time she's discharged, she'll be eating right from the palm of my hand."
"And her palm will smash straight into your nose – again – the moment you try anything more than talk to her," he retorted smartly. Chuck – 2; Shaw – 0
As Shaw walked away sulkily, muttering gibberish under his breath that sounded close to, "pole" and "ass", Chuck smiled, closing the door to his office and walking straight into the hospital's cafeteria, refusing to converse with anyone else. He had only one thing on his mind – Sarah Walker. And he had a feeling she wasn't leaving any time soon.
"Two coffees and two swizzle sticks, please."
Aren't you gonna give me a big ol' hug right there?
