After, Before, Always

Between Vicki and Vale

Chuck, desperate, takes a step toward her.

"Don't go," he breathes. He knows his logic is irrational and selfish, but he doesn't give a damn. "Don't do it. Leave with me, instead."

Sarah looks helplessly at him as he rushes on.

"Tonight, at seven o'clock. Union Station. We go to Mexico, and after that, anywhere that you want. I would, however, like to go and see the Eiffel Tower at some point, if that's at all possible - don't answer now," he hushes her as her lips part, protest on the tip of her tongue. "Don't say a word. I don't want to have to convince you. I just want you to show up."

Sarah's mouth closes again, and her expression is guarded. His heart clenches within his chest, partly from nerves and partly from caring about her far too much. More than he has ever felt for anyone. He is devoted to Ellie, and Devon, and Morgan, and Casey, and his dad, but he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he won't survive his future without her in it.

It's a self-centered realization, the only one he has allowed himself for several years: he not only needs her…he wants her. All of her, with no strings attached.

Unconditional love had not been kind to their collective efforts of trying to tame it, deny it, store it in a box and hide it away in the deep recesses of their closets. So now, standing in Castle, amid the hum of machinery and the lighting of too many computer screens, he is finally brave enough to give in, to reach out and ask for what he has always wanted. What he's always needed.

What he's always known.

"I'm gonna kiss you now…if that's okay," he says brokenly, drawing near to her. She stares at him, unmoving, unblinking. He takes her non-reaction as his okay, and gently takes her face in his hands.

Chuck tries to communicate more than he can with words as he kisses her. It's a simple kiss - truthfully, he is afraid of her pulling away from him if he attempts to wrap his arms around her - but it's full of longing and his firm belief that it is not the last one he intends to give her. He hopes she can understand him, and when he sees the conflicting emotions warring in her eyes as they pull apart, he knows she does.

"I'm gonna go home and pack…both summer and winter wear," says Chuck, laughing softly in a jagged sort of way. He has to blink several times to clear his eyes of unshed tears.

"I love you, Sarah Walker. Always have."

"Stop the presses!" muttered Morgan. "Who is that? Vicki Vale…"

"Vicki Vale," Chuck beat boxed, tucking the phone against his shoulder. "Vick - a - Vicki Vale…" Chuck continued, tapping his toe on the floor, only looking up from the work order when he noticed someone leaning against the counter in front of him.

Some blonde. Morgan could handle her question.

He looked back down absentmindedly, only to find that he could no longer breathe.

His eyes snapped back up to her face and stayed glued there, dropping the receiver as he did so. The plastic cracked noisily against the desk, but he barely noticed.

Chuck had no idea who this woman was, but he had yet to blink twice before he knew that he loved her.

He stammered something about Batman, hoping it would make her smile again (Please let her smile again, for the love of all good things), and decided then and there that even if he never saw her again, he would always love her.

That night, as he lay in bed, Chuck stared at the ceiling of his shadowy bedroom, berating himself for being such a sap. He wasn't stupid enough - or maybe didn't have the balls - to call her. He would never see her again. It was foolish - it was downright imbecilic, actually - to be in love with someone you didn't even know. Most people would even say it was imbecilic to be in love with anyone.

But try as he might to convince himself otherwise, he knew the truth: He loved Sarah, the mysterious, extremely beautiful woman with the crappy cell phone. (Seriously, doesn't a woman that incredible deserve an iPhone? At least a BlackBerry?)

And he knew he always would.