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Regarding all the Bryce chatter, all we can say is: you're reading too much into it. Every past relationship, good or bad or in between, contributes to a current one, and nothing in the Bryce passages undermines Sarah's love for Chuck. If you think that, you're probably reading the wrong story.
Best Friends
x-x-x-x-x
"Okay," Sarah grumbled from the passenger's seat, "you said if I let you get dressed, you'd buy me a present. I did my part, so where's this present? You know how much I hate surprises."
"I didn't say I'd buy you a present," Chuck protested with a laugh. "I said I'd show you one. This," he said with a significant look, "is already ours. In fact, it's the last asset left over from Carmichael Industries. Everything else has been sold."
"Did that work out well?" Sarah asked, genuinely interested.
"Perfectly," he responded, voice heavy with sarcasm. "We only lost a quarter of a billion dollars in one year."
"So how much do you have left?" she asked, immediately wincing at the way it came out. She wasn't some gold digger after his money. She couldn't care less how much he had in his bank account – ten bucks or ten million. "That's not what I meant. I was just making conversation."
But if Sarah was concerned, she needn't have been. Maybe Chuck was learning to not be so sensitive.
"I know," he said quickly. A soft smile on his lips, he added, "I know you, remember? You've had lots of opportunities to be with men a lot richer than I am. Besides, I barely have two dimes to rub together. Chuck and Sarah Bartowski, though, have a little over four hundred million." Off Sarah's look, he took a breath and explained, "The Volkoff fortune was a wedding present, and that means it belongs to both of us. Miraculously, we turned a profit on the Buy More sale, which is where the bulk of it comes from. The CIA froze about a hundred million that our lawyers are fighting to get released. But the most exciting thing about this is what I'm taking you to see."
"Oh, yeah? What's that?"
"A brand new Gulf Stream," he said, grinning. "Worth about thirty-six million. And you get to fly it."
Sarah was silent, staggered by the amounts. After the discovery of his gift of Molly's trust fund, she'd realized there must have been money somewhere, but this was unbelievable. "We have a private jet?" was all she could ask.
Chuck laughed. "It's your baby. Morgan spilled some grape soda in the cabin once, and I thought you were going to draw and quarter him. You would have until Casey pointed out that bloodstains were even worse than grape soda stains."
The thing was brand-spanking new, only had 50 hours on her. And that was the problem with trying to sell it. It was so new that nobody would pay what it was worth. Anyone wanting to spend that much money would just go right ahead and buy a new one. But Sarah loved it, and maybe now she would have a chance to fly it more.
"You had to get recertified before the insurance company would let you fly it," he continued. "And I messed up. I let you fly commercial to D.C. when you could have flown your own jet. I'm sorry about that."
"Will you stop with the sorry stuff?" she requested gently. "Does the money we lost include the five million you gave my mom?"
"I guess so," he shrugged. "I was going to tell you about it. Normally, I would never spend that kind of money without talking to you about it first. I just . . ."
"Didn't know where I was. It's okay, Chuck. I understand."
Neither of them mentioned that 'normal' was a concept far too foreign right now.
"Yeah," he nodded, "but I am sorry you had to find out that way."
She shook her head. "'Sorry' again? Charles Irving Bartowski, what am I going to do with you?"
He only grinned and asked, "One 'sorry' too many? Okay, I'll stop. I really am sorry."
That got them both laughing out loud. "Oh, my God," she said when she could catch a breath. "You're killing me here."
x-x-x-x-x
The private jet was nothing short of amazing. Sarah felt like a schoolgirl presented with her first bicycle, only that joy was magnified by about a million. She still remembered the bikes her dad used to give her for their broken arm scam, and she understood how much better it was to receive a true gift, from someone who truly cared about you.
One of the first things she did was go to the cabin where Morgan had reportedly treated her baby with such little respect and spilled grape soda on her. Thankfully, there was no sign of any stain, which meant she wouldn't be forced to gut him like a fish. Yet.
Despite their ridiculous wealth, it seemed like an obscene waste of fuel to just fly around, so Chuck suggested that they fly to San Francisco for an early brunch. Having attended Stanford, he knew the area fairly well, and there was this restaurant on Fisherman's Wharf he was dying to show her.
Chuck was perfect in the plane, sitting in the co-pilot's seat without saying a single word to break her out of the zone. He simply looked out the window with a relaxed smile and allowed her the space to enjoy one of her favorite things. He didn't even complain on the way back when she flew out over the ocean, outside of controlled airspace, and put the jet through its paces a little, although he did noticeably tighten up his seatbelt on one of the verticals. And his face was starting to look a little white as he gripped the armrest. But still he didn't say a single word. It was simply today's example of what Sarah already knew – he was the sweetest guy in the world and he loved to watch her have fun.
And she was having fun. But beneath the pure joy of having this beautiful machine under her control, something else struck her. Even though he wasn't saying a word, this wouldn't have been nearly as much fun without him sitting next to her. And just like that, the third epiphany of the morning hit her. This time it was more about herself. All this time, she'd been substituting fast cars, dangerous missions, and adventurous hobbies for real, honest-to-God relationships with real people. Maybe the cars and the planes couldn't love her back, but they also couldn't betray her.
Sneaking a glance to her right, she realized something else. This man would never betray her. He had proved that convincingly over and over. So she reached over and playfully placed her hand over his. "You wanna drive for a while?" she asked with a grin, then laughed out loud at the horror on his face.
As soon as they were back home, Chuck reintroduced her to the Lotus. She wasn't one to be rendered speechless, but he seemed to have that effect on her. A thirty-six-million-dollar jet and a two-hundred-grand sports car in the same day? It was too much. This being rich thing definitely had its advantages. Of course, he was quick to point out that she'd obtained the Lotus from the CIA on her own before they were married. But since she didn't remember a thing about it, it was all new to her.
"Do you want me to come with you?" Chuck asked, leaning on the open door and eyeing her only a little apprehensively.
"That's okay," she replied, beaming, as she pushed the clutch on her second new toy today and aggressively revved the high-performance engine. "You're still looking a little green from the jet. Why don't you go inside and take a nap?" When he balked, she winked and added, "Trust me, you might need the rest later."
"You sure?" he chuckled.
"Yeah. I've got some errands to run. How 'bout I bring something home for dinner?"
"Yeah, sounds good."
He gave the sports car a good pat and watched it roar out of sight. It felt good to see her enjoying herself so much, especially since it didn't happen that often. And, actually, a nap didn't sound half-bad. He didn't get that much sleep last night, and judging from the gleam in her eyes, the prospect for sleep tonight wasn't looking all that rosy.
But he wasn't complaining. Maybe, just maybe, this was going to work out. A pensive smile on his face, he waved goodbye to the two specks of tail lights disappearing into the distance, knowing full well she could no longer see him.
"Have fun, Sarah."
x-x-x-x-x
Morgan looked around the Buy More wistfully. There was nothing wrong with the store. In fact, it had become quite the well-oiled machine, not an item out of place. And now that Jeff and Lester had left for Germany, the store was certainly a lot quieter. And business was up. The new owners were very pleased.
That was the problem. It wasn't the Buy More he knew and loved anymore. Sure, customers were happy, and there were no more weird antics from employees, but it was so quiet. He found himself missing the old excitement and unpredictability. He was no longer a spy, though, and, like it or not, he had to accept that being the manager of a Buy More was his role now. He had adult obligations, bills to pay, a beautiful girlfriend who was clearly on the fast path to becoming a fiancée and then a wife. But, excitement or not, it was a good life. He had no room to complain. And he was actually pretty good at it.
Still, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling. It was too quiet, so quiet. So he retreated to the privacy of his office. At least there he could be quiet in peace.
"Have a seat."
Morgan had just closed the door when he felt his chair slam into the back of his legs. He was now sitting down whether that had been his plan or no. A figure moved out of the shadows and into the middle of the room.
"Sarah," he sighed in relief. "You scared me half to death. Why can't you ever say 'hi' like a normal person?"
"I'm not sure. I've never tried that," Sarah replied with a smile that she hoped looked appropriately friendly. "But I'm sorry for scaring you."
"So . . ." Morgan began, steepling his fingers and forcing his voice into something resembling normalcy, "Chuck tells me there might be some hope that you're gonna be sticking around. That, uh, that true? 'Cause Chuck's pretty frantic about that. We all are, really."
Sarah looked at this almost complete stranger and forced herself to take a deep breath and relax. It was odd. She didn't remember a single thing about him, yet he was treating her as a best friend. More than that – family.
"I know he's frantic," she said quietly. "Or he was, at least. He knows I'm not going anywhere. That's why I'm here, actually. Well, the main reason. First, I wanted to apologize for pointing my gun at your head."
Morgan's face broke into the grin that Sarah had already come to know, and love, if truth be told. "Good," he said with an enthusiastic nod. "I was afraid that you might still be pissed about the grape soda thing. He kissed you, didn't he? Where'd he do it? I knew that would work! How much do you remember?"
The first thing Sarah was quickly learning about Morgan Grimes was that it was nearly impossible to be tense or irritable or in a bad mood around him. His easy, sometimes silly manner helped her to relax, which would make this go infinitely more smoothly.
"He did kiss me," she chuckled. A teasing glint in her eye, she said, "Where? Mostly on the lips, but pretty much all over. I think that's as specific as you'd want me to get."
"Very funny," he replied, his grin in no danger of fading. "I meant where were you when he kissed you? On the beach?"
"I know what you meant," she assured him with a soft laugh. More soberly, she explained, "I hate to burst the bubble on your magic kiss theory, but I'm afraid that the memories are coming back very slowly. That's actually why I'm here."
"Okay, sure. What can I do? How can I help?"
If she hadn't already warmed up to Morgan by now, his eagerness to help his best friend would melt her heart. One of her talents was reading people, and she could see in his eyes how much he loved Chuck, how much he loved her, too.
"I'm not sure how to ask."
"Sarah, it's me. You can ask me anything."
Nibbling at her bottom lip, she looked straight into Morgan's eyes for the confirmation she was seeking. Finally, softly, she asked, "Why is Chuck so insecure with me?"
"Are you kidding me?" Morgan asked with a chuckle. "The real question is: why would he be at all secure with you? There are a dozen reasons why he shouldn't, besides the obvious."
Her brow furrowed. If she didn't know what he meant, either it must not be that obvious or it was a memory she could no longer access. Quickly, she ran through a mental list of the things she'd read in Chuck's file that could've cost him his confidence. His parents' desertions. His expulsion from Stanford. The betrayal of a woman he knew who turned out to be a Fulcrum agent. Somehow, though, she knew that wasn't what he was referring to. "What are you talking about?"
"Come on, Sarah. You're way out of his league, and everybody knows it. He's not even your type."
There it was again, the implication that, if they'd met under normal circumstances, or as close to normal as a spy could get, she'd never have given him a second glance, and hearing Morgan say it with such sureness rankled her. Frustration bubbling up, she shot out, "Why does everyone always say that?"
After nearly five years of friendship, Morgan had seen this side of Sarah before. He knew that the way she tightened her lips and narrowed her eyes meant she was about to explode, and he also knew that it would be best to get out of the way before that happened. But he'd made a promise to himself to help see two of his best friends through this, and that's what he was going to do, the rage of Sarah Walker-Bartowski be damned.
He wheeled his chair over to the window and pulled up the blinds so they had a clear view of the Nerd Herd desk, where a gaggle of scrawny, pathetic nerds stood. "You see those guys out there? How many of them do you think have blonde, leggy, drop-dead gorgeous, superspy girlfriends?"
"Morgan . . ."
"Okay, so how many do you think have a girlfriend at all?"
She had to admit he had a point. Ignoring the implied compliment, she insisted weakly, "I'm not out of Chuck's league."
Morgan let the blind fall back into place, stood up, and, hands in his pockets, advanced toward her. "No? If you're not out of his league, then maybe you can round up some of your single spy friends and fix those guys up." When Sarah's angry, flustered gaze flickered to his, he added a bit more gently, "He's come a long ways, Sarah. If you think he's insecure now . . . Well, I could name at least a dozen situations where he acted worse."
"Fine. Give me one."
"Okay. When you dated Shaw. You think that was easy for Chuck to sit back and watch?"
A protest that Chuck was completely different than the employees out on the floor died on her lips when she realized what he'd said. "Wait. I dated Daniel Shaw? The traitor? How did that happen?"
With a shrug, Morgan sat down again. "Chuck suggested it, actually. Neither of you knew he'd betray you, of course."
"But why would he do that?"
"You two were in this awful place, always sniping at each other. It was like one more argument would destroy the whole operation. So the two of you agreed it'd be best if you just gave it up and tried to date other people. I guess you figured the alternative was you'd just end up hating each other. It was . . . man, it was a miserable time for anyone who was forced to be around you two."
"Chuck dated someone, too?"
Morgan's eyes grew distant for a few seconds. Then, coming back to the present, he said, very quietly, "Her name was Hannah."
Morgan swallowed thickly. He still hated thinking of that time, not only because of the misery Chuck and Sarah were putting everyone through, but also because he still couldn't forget the way Chuck had steamrolled his desires by going after Hannah for himself. And what had come of it? Everyone had been wretched.
He gave his head a quick shake to clear it of the poisonous thoughts and added, "Don't worry. It only lasted a couple of weeks."
Sarah took a deep breath, hating to ask but needing to anyway. "Was she pretty?"
He nodded. "Yeah, she was," he said, half-ashamed of the break in his voice. "And smart and really, really sweet. And the truth is he wasn't fair to her."
Sarah regarded him silently for a moment, his head bowed slightly, his gaze averted. There was something hidden that he wasn't ready to let go, but she didn't think it was Chuck's secret he was keeping.
Before she could offer a small word of comfort, his head popped up and he said, "You know what? No, actually, neither of you were fair to anyone for a long time. The two of you were childish and immature and you hurt a lot of people in the whole process of you dancing around each other for almost three years, but, Sarah, don't you get it? All those mistakes you guys made? It's part of who you are."
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," he sighed, "that lots of people would have given up way before you two did. But that's what you guys do – you fight for each other."
"But Chuck getting a pretty, new girlfriend and me dating a traitor? That seems more like giving up on each other to me."
"That's because you don't know the whole story. And Shaw wasn't a traitor at first. He was in charge of your team. That's what got to Chuck the most."
Sarah was quiet, but he could tell from the anxious look in her eyes that either she was going to hear the entire story very quickly or he would pay for it.
"This guy, he was exactly your type," Morgan explained, "good-looking, macho, confident, great head of hair. It was hard for Chuck to see that."
"And what about me?"
"What?"
"Maybe it was hard for me, too, to see Chuck going around with this pretty, sweet girl – a civilian – whom everyone seemed to think was better suited for him than I was."
His expression softened. Quietly, he replied, "Of course. No one ever said it wasn't."
When their gazes met, Sarah suddenly realized how strange this meeting was for him, explaining her history, especially the parts that maybe he'd rather not have mentioned. But she also saw that he was being intentionally sharp with her and immediately loved him for it, because his loyalty to Chuck was shining through and because he was including her in that small handful of friendships he held tight and never let go of.
She quickly flashed back to her talk with Ellie. Was she right? Were they really once best friends like that? Would Ellie have ever stuck up for her like this? It seemed impossible. Nice, but impossible. A bitter wave of remorse washed over her for the way she'd treated Ellie last month.
So far, Morgan had confirmed a lot of what she'd been suspecting. She knew what he meant by her type. She couldn't remember a thing about Daniel Shaw other than what she read in Beckman's office – that he tried to kill them and became the main mole for The Ring. But she didn't have to. She knew the type perfectly. Daniel Shaw, Bryce Larkin, Eric Gold, they were basically all the same – all spy, all the time. She hated it, but she could see how a guy like Chuck could be intimidated by a guy like that. Worse, she could see how her old self would have grabbed onto a relationship with one of them out of mere desperation.
She cleared her throat. "So, uh, just how serious did I get with Shaw?" she asked, barely meeting Morgan's gaze for fear of the answer.
"Not very serious at all," he responded with a small smile that eased her dread. "Anyone who knew you at all could see you were with him only because you couldn't be with Chuck. And Shaw knew it, too. That's why it was so easy for him to draw you out when . . ." He broke off suddenly, dropping his gaze to his shoes.
"When he tried to kill me, you mean. It's okay, Morgan." She'd read the report, knew the general story if not all the details. He certainly didn't have to start dancing around her now. "I only know what's in the report, though. Why don't you tell me the real story?"
After a short hesitation, he said, "You and Shaw were about to be transferred to Washington. Chuck was promoted to agent. It was like everything was falling into place, but all the wrong places. He knew if you went back to DC, that'd be it. He'd lose you forever. But you were running. And the only thing left to a man at that point is to go all in." He paused significantly, raising his eyes to meet hers. "He told you he loved you, and asked you to stay."
The revelation hung between them, so heavy Sarah felt her blood was turning to lead.
Morgan could remember it vividly – the resignation on Chuck's face, the smell of whiskey in the air, the pinch of the video game wires against his skin. It was the lowest of the low for his best friend, and he'd seen Chuck in some pretty low situations. But nothing compared to the agony of thinking the woman you loved was running off with another man.
"He tasted like mint ice cream," said Sarah suddenly, the memory dropping down on her swiftly, so strong she could taste it now.
Morgan's head came up. "What'd you say?"
"Mint," she repeated. "Mint and whiskey. And he was sitting on the floor in his underwear, with one of those stupid guitar controllers." She chuckled softly, half-amazed at being able to recollect, half-amused at the mental image. Her smile faded as she continued, "Chuck has beautiful eyes, but I've never seen them so sad."
It had been a now-or-never moment.
Do you love me? he'd asked.
And she'd made him wait an eternity.
Yes. A simple syllable, yet the hardest word she'd ever said.
"You remember that night?" Morgan asked.
All Sarah could do was nod.
"Good. That's good," he murmured. "Do you remember what happened next?" When she shook her head, he elaborated, "Beckman assigned you and Shaw to go to Paris. It broke Chuck's heart when you agreed to go."
"Come on, it was an assignment," she protested.
"Look, Sarah, I'm telling you what Chuck went through, okay? From his point of view, you kissed him one night, and the very next day agreed to go to Paris – a place that was on his bucket list, by the way – with your ex-boyfriend. You can't argue with that."
"Okay, fine."
"And I admit that I wasn't your biggest fan around this time." Seeing the rage bubbling up again, he said quickly, fighting a smile, "But listen to me, Sarah, you stepped up big time. You kissed him and told him as soon as you got back, there'd be nothing left to stand in the way between you two."
Softly, she ventured, "But Shaw was going to kill me in Paris."
"Well, we're a smart group of spies, you know. Chuck and Casey took off to Paris just as soon as we figured it out."
"Okay, but Chuck saved me, Morgan," she insisted, willing him to understand just how much that meant to her. Spies don't get saved every day. Because they don't need it, because they don't allow it, because no one cares for them that much. "We've been together since then, right? So why is he still so insecure around me? What have I done to make him feel that way?"
And if he suggested one more time that he wasn't her type or that she was out of his league, he'd be dangerously close to getting punched.
"Look at it from his point of view, Sarah. The only reason you two met was because of a freak circumstance that downloaded a computer into his head. You never would have given him a second glance if you'd just met on the street. For a long time, he was convinced that the only thing he had going for him with you was that he was the Intersect."
Her first instinct was to protest that as stupid, but she bit it back, because he was right. She wasn't looking at it from his perspective. Instead, forcing calmness into her voice, she asked, "Why would he think that?"
Morgan chuckled. "You're not exactly one to shout your love to the world, you know."
"Chuck knows how I feel."
"Maybe he does. Now. But it took him an awful long time to figure it out, and it shouldn't have to be that way."
"So, what did I do wrong?"
"No," he shook his head, "it's not that you did things wrong. It's that Chuck's a word guy, and you're all about action, and sometimes those don't mix well. And sometimes, even, I think you're so scared that you don't even realize how other people could take things."
She let that truth sink in, then turned it around and looked through it, tried to see herself how Chuck saw her. Their instincts were completely opposite – where he would go right, she would go left. Maybe the solution was that they both needed to adjust in order to find middle ground.
"Tell me, Morgan."
"It took you a long time to tell him you loved him. You never talked about your family or your past. You lived together for over six months before you unpacked. You know how hard it is to tell someone you love them. But do you understand how hard it is to say it and not hear it back? Especially from someone who you already think you don't deserve?"
"Of course I told him," she huffed.
He shook his head again. "No. He asked you and you said 'Yes.' And maybe you thought everything you did showed him, but you rarely said it. But there's a huge difference between those things and actually saying the words. And think about how he felt when he would say it to you, and then he had to get dressed every morning and see your half of the closet still empty."
No one could ever accuse her of being emotionally together. She couldn't pinpoint exactly why, but it was probably a mash of everything in her childhood that made her terrified of intimacy.
"That stuff I did had nothing to do with him. He should've known that."
"But how was he supposed to, Sarah, when you guys never talked about anything?" He sighed in frustration, because if there was one rut that Chuck and Sarah had fallen into, it was one of poor communication. But he had to admit that not all of it was Sarah's fault. In fact, a big chunk could be attributed to Chuck's constant need to placate or protect Sarah, or so he thought, by never telling her what was wrong and then turning to him or Ellie for help instead.
"And, of course, it's my fault we never talked about anything important."
"No, Sarah, I didn't mean it like that." He eyed her warily as she fumed.
Sarah took a deep breath to keep the anger from exploding against Morgan. He wasn't the one she was angry at. Every intimate feeling or thought was drilled out of her head, out of her heart, in training. Don't get attached. Don't put down roots. It took a long time to undo that sort of thinking. Chuck should've known that.
Gently, Morgan explained, "I know he can be an idiot sometimes, but in his mind, he never wanted to pressure you. He thought putting on a brave face was the way to get through to you."
"Then maybe he doesn't know me very well either," she snapped.
Morgan only smiled.
It annoyed her. "What?" she barked.
"Missteps happen in a relationship, Sarah. If you didn't make mistakes, you'd never grow, either as a person or as a couple. Tell me, do you remember anything about Thailand?"
She shook her head. "No. Was it a mission? I don't remember reading about it in the reports."
"Not officially," he confessed with a light chuckle. "If you ever read it in a mission report, it'll be from prison."
Sarah looked at him, knowing an explanation was coming.
Ticking the items off on his fingers, he said, "You broke into the Thai Embassy, kidnapped one of their officials, brought him back to Castle, and interrogated him without cameras, without letting anyone see the interrogation, and, I'm pretty sure, without following the guidelines laid down by the Geneva Convention. And then you flew to Thailand and fought your way through a ring of criminals, all to get one tiny tidbit of information. So, no, it wasn't exactly a sanctioned mission."
Her brow furrowed. That sounded like something she would done in her earlier, wilder days, but not like how she acted once she'd settled down onto Team Bartowski. "But why'd I do it?"
"To save Chuck."
She swallowed thickly and dropped her eyes. Of course. No spy would go to such great lengths for a mere mission.
"Sarah," said Morgan kindly, "no one who saw you during that time could doubt you loved him." He smiled. "In Thailand, they called you –"
"The Giant Blonde She-Male," she finished unexpectedly. She shook her head incredulously. She still wasn't sure if it was a compliment or not.
They both laughed softly. Morgan remembered that time as more than just the time this woman saved his best friend's life for what was maybe the hundredth, but possibly most important, time. It was also locked in his mind as the time when he and Sarah really became close friends.
"Sarah, I was there when you rescued him. You brought him back to you, told him you wanted to marry him. And he was finally convinced that he was worth more than just being the Intersect."
At any other time, Sarah would have bristled at the idea that she only loved Chuck because he was the Intersect. It was a preposterous notion, especially since that ridiculous computer made him such a big target. But now, here was proof – not just for Chuck, but for both of them now – of how much she loved him.
"Surely that was the end of his doubts," she ventured, almost pleading, "wasn't it?"
"Well," he smiled, "there was the prenup you asked him to sign."
Even without remembering it, she could guess at what it pertained to – the money she had put aside to bail out dad the next time that he invariably got into trouble. That made sense to her, just a precaution, but, trying to look at it from Chuck's perspective, she could see how he could misinterpret that, like she was waiting for the marriage to fail.
"Things got a little better after you got married," he said. "But I think he was upset by the fact that you only hyphenated your name and you still used 'Walker' in the business. And then there was that time you ditched him in Hungary to go off after your old handler." He paused. "You apologized for that, though."
"Which one? The last name or the Hungary episode?"
Chuckling, Morgan answered, "Hungary. In fact, Chuck was just starting to get comfortable with married life, I think, and then . . ."
"And then I forgot I knew him and tried to kill him," she finished forlornly.
She didn't have to have her memories to realize that she hadn't always acted wisely in regard to their relationship. But wasn't what he said true? That relationships were about growing and figuring each other out so that mistakes could be gotten over? Still, it was frustrating that Chuck – a brilliant man who knew every single thing about her – could misinterpret things all the way down the line. She had been all in from the start, probably long before he was, but whose fault was it that it'd taken him so long to figure it out? Both of theirs, probably. But they couldn't keep blaming each other for the past, or else the cycle would never end.
"Chuck doesn't blame you for what happened with Quinn," Morgan said firmly. "Of course he doesn't. Nobody does. He just wants his wife back, and I'd like my friend back."
Sarah looked at Morgan, so obviously trying to cheer her up, and she smiled. "Thank you for being so honest." She could appreciate how hard all of that was to say, especially knowing how hard it was to hear. But it was exactly what she needed. "And I'm still your friend, Morgan. Even if it takes us a little while to get back to where we were, I hope you know that."
"I do," he nodded. "We all love you, Sarah, and we've all missed you. Alex wants to have you over soon if you're up for it."
"That sounds great." And it actually did sound great – normal - routine. Sarah took a couple of steps towards the door. But there was something else that still needed to be said. So she suddenly turned to face him again. "I didn't give him enough," she said sadly. "That's why he's so messed up now. It wasn't on purpose, Morgan. But I didn't give him. . ." Sarah's voice trailed off. "I feel so horrible."
Morgan's reply was both firm and softly loving at the same time. "Sarah, stop thinking like that. You were doing your best. Everybody knows that, Chuck better than anybody. And I don't want you to get the wrong impression. Chuck knows you love him. He does. He just . . . maybe doesn't totally understand you sometimes. But he's working on it."
Once again, Sarah was struck by how lucky her husband was to have a friend like Morgan. "You're a great friend, Morgan. I know you worry about him, but I will always be there to protect him. And I'm going to do whatever it takes to prove that to him, and to you."
His mouth twisted in thought. "Chuck doesn't know that you're here, does he?" It was far more statement than question.
She shook her head. "I'll tell him, I promise, but could you not mention this little meeting until I can talk to him about it?"
A broad smile on his face, Morgan simply nodded.
"Thanks for your help, Morgan," she said with her own smile. "Things are going to be different this time. I promise."
x-x-x-x-x