It Was Just That the Time Was Wrong 2/2
Author: dettiot
Rating: T
Summary: Two percent of the world's population can travel in time, a much-studied yet barely-understood occurrence that is triggered when one of the affected reaches their twenty-first birthday. Each time traveler has an anchor: someone they interact with at various points in their respective lives who stabilizes their trip into the past. What happens when two travelers have each other as anchors . . . and they fall in love?
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck. No copyright infringement intended.
Author's Note: I hope you enjoy the conclusion to this story! Thanks again to fakecuddling for such a great prompt.
XXX
Moving her feet briskly, Sarah waits impatiently for the streetlights to change so she can continue her run. The air is already soupy in Washington at seven in the morning; combining with the typical heavy traffic, her run this morning has been frustratingly slow.
She glances at her watch and sighs a little, knowing that she'll have to take a very quick shower before heading over to Langley. She won't have time to get this brown dye out of her hair, a remnant of last night's mission that she was too exhausted to deal with when she returned home at midnight.
When she looks back up, there's a man standing in the crosswalk, holding his head in his hands as if he's in pain. And there's a large SUV with diplomatic plates bearing down on him, the driver too distracted by his cell phone conversation to notice the man he's about to flatten.
On instinct, Sarah dashes into the crosswalk, grabs the man by the arms and yanks him out of the path of the SUV, a few loud honks emanating from the vehicle as it swerves around them. Sarah ignores it as she looks over the still-dazed man.
"Sir? Sir, are you all right?" she asks, trying to sound like she does this everyday. Which, in a way, she does. But something about him makes her feel a little bit worried. If he looked or smelled like somebody who was homeless or a drug addict, she could understand what had happened, could understand how he had just ended up in the crosswalk at the wrong time. But that didn't seem to be the case with this man: he was dressed in a suit and appeared to be in his mid-thirties at least. His hair was clean and fairly tidy, although the humidity was making his hair curl before her eyes. And he had a wedding ring on his left ring finger.
So a man just appearing in a crosswalk . . . he must be a time traveler as well. She's never encountered someone else who does this, and Sarah wonders if she might have time to talk to him a little. Find out some answers to the questions that have been nagging at her for the last two years, ever since her first trip into the past.
Sarah lowers her voice and leans closer to the man, who still hasn't taken his head out of his hands. "Sir? Do you know what day it is?"
"A day I wish I coulda spent in bed," the man says, sounding like he's forcing himself to laugh off his worries. The ease with which he does it makes Sarah think he does that a lot.
"It's August 4, 2004," she says, giving him the information she always tries to discover as soon as she arrives in the past.
He lifts his head, finally out of the grip of whatever pain he was suffering, and makes eye contact with her. And Sarah feels her stomach drop, because . . . because she doesn't know why. Brown eyes, curly brown hair, tall: he's not handsome like a movie star or full of charm like so many of the spies she knows, but there's something about him that makes her feel like there's a connection between them.
Or maybe it's the way her hands, still gripping his arms, are tingling, and those tingles are spreading through her whole body.
But the strangest thing is, the man seems to know her. His eyes are wide and his mouth opens and shuts a few times. Then, softly, he whispers, "Sarah?"
Sarah drops her hands from his arms and steps back. "How do you know my name?" she asks, already having an idea of the answer but scared to contemplate it. Because the only explanation for him to say her name in such an intimate way is if he knows her. But how does this man know her? How well does he know her, to say her name like that? And why does it feel like she knows him?
It's so tempting to run. But then she remembers her first trip to the past. How confused and disoriented she was, how lucky she was to have someone to help her. She had vowed, then and there, to always do the same if the positions were reversed. So she swallows and shakes her head. "I'm sorry, you must still be confused. From the . . . you know."
He presses his lips together, a flash of stubbornness flickering over his face for a moment before vanishing. Then he nods and gives her a weak smile. "Yeah, I must be. Sorry. And thanks for the date check. 2004, huh?"
"Yeah," she says, doing her best to give him a friendly-and-nothing-else smile. "Are you okay from here? I need to get going."
For the first time, he looks her up and down, taking in her tight workout clothes. Unlike most men, he doesn't give her a leer or a suggestive comment. Which is a nice change.
"No, no, I'm good," he says, returning his eyes to her face. "Thanks for your help. I really appreciate it."
Sarah knows this is the moment she should just say good-bye and leave him, but she's hesitating and she doesn't know why. Although deep down, she does know. She just doesn't want to think about that right now, with the man's warm brown eyes focused on her.
"You're welcome," she says quickly, taking a few steps back and getting ready to jog away.
"Be careful out there. DC traffic, you know," he says, gesturing to the streets in front of them.
It's not a funny line or anything. But Sarah finds herself giving him a quick smile as she moves into the crosswalk that's open to pedestrians now. And as she jogs away, Sarah uses all her spy training to keep him in sight until she's run too far away.
XXX
Crap. He broke the first rule of traveling in time: don't reveal that you're a time traveler. There's bad stories about some of the first travelers, people too scared and shocked to stay quiet, and they ended up in a lot of trouble and a lot of dangerous situations.
But there were mitigating circumstances, Chuck argued with himself. Having a leap trigger while he was flashing introduced him to a new definition of pain and suffering, to quote Return of the Jedi. So when he looked up and realized he had been saved from becoming a pancake by the younger version of his wife . . . who wouldn't blurt out her name? Give in to the relief washing over him at being with someone who cared?
That was the thing, though. That Sarah? She didn't care about him. She didn't even know him. Based on the date (and it was such a *Sarah* thing to figure out he was a time traveler and tell him what day it was), it was over three years until they would meet. It was before Sarah had started to realize that being a spy, as good as she was at it, wasn't always good for her. Before her mission with the baby and her mom. Before she even met Bryce, in fact.
Chuck didn't mind that Sarah had lied to him, had denied that she was, in fact, Sarah. He knew his wife and he could only guess what some stranger calling her by name had made her think. But he wondered if maybe, just maybe, seeing him that day in 2004 had planted a seed in Sarah. Made her start reconsidering her path, deep in her subconscious.
The logical side of him said it wasn't possible, that time travel didn't work like that. But then, who knew how time travel worked? The very fact that two travelers could have each other for anchors was unprecedented. Decades of reading and watching science-fiction told Chuck that anything was possible.
Like two time travelers falling in love.
XXX
He can't take any more of this. As nice as it was for Ellie to throw him a birthday party, she knows that he doesn't like parties for his birthday. And while he appreciates that she's always so positive that there's a woman out there for him, he has to say, his sister is a lousy matchmaker. That thought makes him feel like a jerk, and he senses it's just a matter of time before he says something he'll regret. It's time to be alone for a bit and get his head on straight.
So Chuck slips out of the courtyard and finds a quiet spot under some palm trees, in the grassy strip that runs between the wall of the courtyard and the parking lot behind the complex. He can still hear the music from the party and he's got a beer that's three-quarters full. All he'd need is Morgan for this to be just what he wanted for his birthday.
Stretching his legs out, Chuck gazes up at the moon and stars visible through the smog and sips his beer slowly. Answering all those questions tonight, seeing people's eyes flick away from his after a few moments and start searching for someone else to talk to . . . he had never felt like more of a loser. Here he was, twenty-six years old, and he was working at a Buy More. No career, no money, no girlfriend. None of the things he thought he'd have, five years after Stanford.
But then, without a degree and branded as a cheater, how could he have any of those things?
It's not fair. He's not a cheater, but no one at Stanford had believed him when he said those tests weren't his. Not even Jill, the girl he had been planning to-
No. He didn't want to think about Jill anymore tonight. About Jill's betrayal, or Bryce's, or the way all his hopes and dreams had been thwarted.
Chuck lets out a soft snort. "Thwarted." Now he knows he's a little bit drunk, when he starts getting all Shakespearean. He leans his head back and takes a long pull from his beer.
There's a click of heels against the pavement, then some floral fragrance that makes Chuck lower his beer bottle in confusion.
"Hi," says the sweet-smelling vision in front of him. She's wearing some kind of floaty white dress and high heels, but what really draws his attention is her face. Because she's got the bluest eyes he's ever seen. "Mind if I join you?"
What? His slightly-sodden brain needs a few moments to make sense of this request. Because the woman standing in front of him is spectacular. She looks like the world is her oyster, but here she is, asking if she can join him.
Not knowing what to say, he nods slowly, and the woman smiles and takes a seat next to him on the grass, stretching out her oh-so-long legs beside his. "I have another party tonight, so I just wanted a few minutes of quiet before I leave," she says, looking at him.
She's going to get grass stains on her dress is all Chuck can think, but even in his current condition he knows not to point that out. Because it might make her leave. "Are you a friend of Ellie's?" Chuck asks instead, feeling a bit dumb and trying to make all the pieces fit.
The woman smiles and nods, tucking some of her blonde hair behind her ear. Chuck is almost blinded by the size of the rock on her finger. Of course. A woman like her has to be taken. "I am. Soon we'll be-"
She stops talking and presses her lips together, as if she's holding back the words, then she looks at him. "So why are you out here, birthday boy?"
So she knows it's his birthday. Ellie must have invited her as part of her matchmaking attempts-but this was a definite misfire, Chuck could already tell. This woman was so out of his league. And what was Ellie thinking, inviting an engaged woman to his birthday party? That didn't make any sense. Maybe she was just a friend of Ellie's from the hospital who liked parties? But no . . . that didn't seem like this woman. Not with her stated desire for some quiet. Not when she didn't give off that "medical professional" vibe Chuck gets from the hospital people here tonight.
Shaking his head, Chuck brushes aside all those questions and decides to just go with the flow. "'Cause I didn't want a birthday party, and no one wants to come to a pity party, so . . ." He spreads his hands wide and shrugs.
"Ellie's always singing your praises. The brother she describes, I didn't think he'd want to have a pity party."
Chuck snorts. "Well, Ellie sees the best in people."
The rudeness of that reply penetrates his brain and Chuck flushes. He looks at the woman, whose eyes are narrowed. "I'm sorry . . . I'm dumping my baggage on you. You-you can stay here and I'll go somewhere else-"
"No, don't go," she says, reaching out and resting her hand on his arm, stopping him in a clumsy half-sitting, half-standing position. The touch of her fingers makes him feel like fireworks are going off inside him and he plops back down beside her, not wanting to move from this spot. Because for the first time in five years, he feels a bubble of hope forming inside himself and he's not quite ready to pop it.
She smiles at him. "I'm Sarah, by the way."
"Chuck-I'm Chuck. But you must already know that, since you seem to know me," Chuck says slowly, his brain finally starting to work.
"Through Ellie, yes," the woman says smoothly. "I owe her a lot, so I fit in a stop here before my own party."
"It's your party you're going to?" Chuck asks, shifting a little to get comfortable.
The way this woman smiles makes him feel more drunk than the beers he's had. Because her smiles make her even more beautiful. But more than that, it's like her happiness is just radiating from her. Making him feel warm and special.
"Yeah . . . my engagement party. In less than a week, I'm marrying the love of my life," she says softly.
With how he's been feeling tonight, Chuck expects to feel depressed by her words. But instead, he feels glad. He's only known her a few moments, but he gets the sense that Sarah is as surprised by what she's got as he is to have her sitting here next to him.
"He must be pretty special."
Sarah grins, which is different from her smiles but no less attractive an expression. "He is. It took him a long time to realize it-about as long as it took me to realize how special I am."
"Really?" Chuck asks, feeling shocked. Because doesn't this woman have a mirror? Of course she's special.
She shrugs one bare shoulder and looks at him. "You were just throwing yourself a pity party on your birthday, when you're surrounded by family and friends. Before I met my fiancée, I never had that. No family, no friends . . . just my job, and that wasn't enough. But I didn't realize that until I met him."
As Sarah speaks, Chuck finds himself growing even more curious about her. She's a knockout, of course, and she also seems to be a good person. Smart, interesting . . . how had the world not shown her how amazing she was? If it took her fiancée for her to discover that, Chuck's hat was off to the guy. It almost makes him wish he could buy the guy a beer.
"It sounds like a great romance. You and your fiancée," Chuck says, setting aside his beer bottle.
"It is," she says, smiling at him.
Chuck rubs the back of his neck with his hand. "I'm not gonna lie, I'm jealous of you both."
Sarah laughs softly. "Well, don't be. You'll find your own great romance."
The last thing he wants is to descend back into self-pity. Wallowing like that isn't attractive, and he just . . . he wants to make a good impression on Sarah, wants her to think well of him. So instead of making some kind of passive-aggressive ploy for sympathy, Chuck takes a deep breath. "I sure hope so."
There's silence between them for a few moments, but the comfortable kind. Then Sarah gently bumps her shoulder against his. "It's your birthday. Make a wish and as long as you don't tell anyone, it'll come true."
"I don't think that's how it works," Chuck says, grinning a little. "Not telling anyone just ups the chances of the wish coming true."
"Nope," Sarah says with her own grin. "I say that as long as you don't tell, it'll come true. So close your eyes and make a wish, Chuck."
Needless to say, he's a bit skeptical. But then . . . why not try it? With how he dislikes his birthday, Chuck doesn't normally bother making wishes. After all, how is that any different from how he's spent the last five years, wanting things to be different? Wanting and wishing might be different things, though.
Still, he warns her. "If you're going to take advantage of my eyes being closed to tie my shoelaces together or something . . ."
Sarah's laugh rings out, bright and happy. "I wouldn't do that, but thanks for giving me the idea for the future."
"Clearly, you are the type to play pranks-I'm not fooled by your pretty face," he says. That might be a bit more flirtatious than he should be, but Sarah doesn't seem too upset by it.
"Go on," she says, knocking their shoulders together again. "Let go of your baggage and just make a wish."
Even though he's a bit loathe to close his eyes, because then he wouldn't be looking at her, Chuck nods and closes his eyes. He breathes in and out as different possibilities present themselves to him. He could wish for money or success, for an amazing woman of his own, for anything in the world.
But when he hits upon the right wish, he knows. I want to be as happy as Sarah is.
Maybe it's a lousy wish, because after all, he barely knows Sarah. But somehow, he knows that she is happy, and that's what he wants for himself.
"Okay, all done," he says, opening his eyes. "But no asking-"
The words die on his lips as he realizes that Sarah is gone. Damn it, he thinks to himself.
It might be for the best, since she was with someone else, someone who was bound to be a better, more deserving man than he was. But . . . but he could be better, too. He could change and grow up and become the kind of man who found the love of his life.
And a good way to get started was to go back into the party and give it a real try. Maybe he wouldn't make a love connection tonight, but he could find some new friends or just pass a few hours in conversation. He at least had to try.
Chuck pushes himself up from the ground, snagging his beer bottle so he wouldn't be a litterbug, and starts walking back to the courtyard. Just as he steps inside, he thinks he catches a whiff of floral perfume, a scent that makes him think of Sarah. So even though he knows it's fruitless and she's probably long gone, he still looks around for her. Just in case.
XXX
"Welcome back, baby."
Sarah steadied herself against the sink and looked at Chuck. "Thanks," she says, turning to wrap her arms around him and hug him tightly, even though they were already running late for the party and she hadn't even started her make-up.
His hand softly stroked her hair. "Everything okay?"
She nodded against his chest. "I was at your birthday party, the day before we met."
"Ahhh," Chuck said, his hands resting against her back. "Not one of my finest moments."
"Not really," she agreed, lifting her head to look up at him. "You can really throw yourself a pity party."
Chuck laughed and kissed her temple. "That I can."
"It was a little infuriating to see," Sarah said, making herself pull away and focus on applying her makeup.
He looked at her out of the corner of his eye as he fussed with his hair, clearly curious about what she meant.
"To see how lost that Chuck was, how blind he was to all the good he had around him, the good inside him . . . it was hard to watch you like that," Sarah said. "Not that you weren't justified in your feelings, but being stuck like that for five years-my heart just breaks a little over it."
"Yeah," Chuck said softly, looking at the floor. "These trips seem to do that, y'know?"
Sarah nodded. "Yeah."
"But I also wonder if we would have fallen for each other without them," Chuck said, finishing with his hair and moving to stand behind her, resting his hands on her hips and gazing at her in the mirror. "If they didn't make it possible."
"I don't see how-it's not like you remember when I visit you or vice versa," Sarah said, dusting some powder over her face.
Chuck shrugged his shoulders. "Falling in love is even less understood than time travel. How do we know that those trips didn't bring us together, in a way we can't even realize or understand?"
She considered that, her mascara wand held in one hand. Could that explain how they fell in love? All those times their paths crossed, the fact that they were the only time travelers to have another traveler as an anchor . . . whatever relationship they had with each other in their normal timeline, the way they had interacted with each other in the past guaranteed the connection between them.
But to Sarah, that was too easy an explanation. It overlooked all the hard work they had both done, all the times they had to make a choice amid so many conflicting emotions and facts. If anything, her trips to the past, seeing Chuck grow up, had sometimes confused her more, not less.
Meeting Chuck's eyes in the mirror, Sarah smiled at him. "Maybe. But I think us being together was decided a long time before we met. Any of the times we met."
"Romantic and practical at the same time," Chuck said with a wide grin. "That, right there, is why I love you, Sarah Walker."
Sarah laughed as Chuck kissed her cheek and then made a face at getting 'a mouthful of make-up'. She continued putting her face on, looking forward to the party tonight and all that was ahead of her. Not just the wedding and the honeymoon, but the rest of her life. Buying a house, having children, growing old . . . she was going to have it all.
And she would have it all with Chuck. Which made it exciting and fun and challenging and a little scary, but also everything she wanted now. After never thinking she would get this kind of future, it was nearly in her grasp. Nothing was going to get in her way: not time travel or self-doubt or terrorists.
Nothing would get in *their* way.
XXX
Sarah crosses her legs and adjusts her jacket. Normally she doesn't have a problem with waiting-no spy does, really, given how many hours of your life are spent sitting in surveillance vans and lookout positions, watching for something to happen. Watching other people live their lives. But when she has to wait to meet with the Deputy Director of the CIA, and their meeting will be about the biggest mistake of her life . . . waiting sucks.
To keep from fidgeting, Sarah takes a few deep breaths and attempts to focus. Trys to prepare herself for the most important meeting of her career. But when she closes her eyes, all she sees is the baby. The baby that made her wonder if she would ever hold one again. If she would ever hold a baby of her own.
This is ridiculous. She had never been a woman who got all soppy over children, who dreamed of getting married and raising a family. And even if she had . . . all of her choices had taken her away from such a life. So she doesn't understand why she keeps thinking about that baby, about her choice to hide it-to hide her with her own mother.
Opening her eyes, Sarah does all she can to project an unflappable, calm exterior. To look like everything's fine. Because it is. She'll get a new assignment and find a way to forget about the baby, to forget about Bryce's betrayal, to forget all of it and just be a spy.
But is that really what you want?
"Nervous?"
The combination of her mocking mental voice, which sounds a lot like Carina Miller, and the unexpected question makes her startle. She turns her head in the direction of the questioner and sees a man she didn't notice when she entered the office. He's older, possibly older than Graham if the salt-and-pepper brown hair and glasses are anything to judge by.
He smiles at her from his spot two chairs away from her. "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to startle you."
Tucking some hair behind her ear, Sarah straightens her shoulders. "No, it's fine. I just have a lot on my mind." She pauses and looks at him. "Why did you ask if I was nervous?"
The man, who's got an ID badge clipped to his lapel in a way that she can't read his name, chuckles softly. It's a nice sound, one that puts her at ease, strangely enough. "You're sitting in the office of the deputy director of the CIA and you were biting your lower lip." He shrugs and smiles at her again. "I took a wild guess."
"Oh," Sarah says, turning her head as she runs her tongue over her lower lip. There's definitely a bit of an abrasion there, like she was nibbling on her lip.
She turns back to the man, who's shifting in his chair a little and moving his long legs. From the looks of him, he's well over six feet tall. She wonders who he is.
"I'm sure whatever you're meeting the deputy director for, it'll all work out."
"Thanks," Sarah says, hoping she doesn't sound too sarcastic. Because she's not so hopeful, and most agents would glory in seeing Sarah Walker taken down a peg or four. Yet she doubts someone like this man is aware of the comings-and-goings of the younger agents like her, and it is nice of him to try and comfort her. But something must have leaked through, because the man grins.
"Easy for me to say, right?" He shrugs. "Yeah, it is. But I guess after thirty years of working here, I've learned a lot."
"Thirty years?" Sarah asks, feeling curious. Spying is a young man's game-or a young woman's. Most agents retire or move to other government agencies once they reach a certain age, especially those in Operations who work in the field. And while this man's whole personality screams that he's an analyst and not a field agent, Sarah's not so sure. There's a kind of stillness about him that speaks of someone who knows what it's like out there. Not necessarily physically, but . . . she can't put her finger on it, but she just knows that he's spent plenty of time in the field.
He nods. "Yeah. It's hard to believe. Seems like just yesterday I was getting started." He looks around, his eyes landing on the calendar hanging behind the desk of Graham's assistant, and his eyes narrow. He mutters something under his breath, but Sarah's only able to catch the word "today" when whatever came over him passes and he's smiling at her again. "So yeah. Take it from the old man: you're going to be okay."
"Thank you," she says softly and sincerely. Something about him, whoever this man is, makes her feel . . . there isn't a word to describe it. It's a bit like Graham's support and encouragement, or the way she felt when she was small and was able to fall asleep in the car while her father was driving. There's even a little of the heat that she feels with Bryce. It's all that and more, a group of disconnected emotions that Sarah can't identify.
It's more disconcerting and worrying than anything that will happen in her meeting with Graham, Sarah suspects.
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the man rub his thumb against a wedding ring. It looks like a habit he's been doing for years, which makes the question she's suddenly asking even more redundant. "Have you been married long?"
He looks at her in surprise, and Sarah covers her mouth with her hand. "I-I'm so sorry, I have no idea why I asked such a personal question-"
"No, no, it's okay," he says, smiling at her again. "It's fine. To answer your question, yes, I have been married a long time-it'll be twenty-five years, next May. My wife and I have three children at home in California."
Sarah can almost imagine it: a nice little house in some suburb, filled with kids and a dog and a wife to take care of it all. She wonders what his wife is like.
"Congratulations," she says, folding her hands in her lap and wishing that this strange encounter was over-and at the same time, wanting to ask more questions.
"We're both retiring from field work soon, so we'll have more time at home," the man continues blithely. But his words make Sarah do another double-take. Both he and his wife work for the Agency? That-that was-
"Agent Walker?"
She's had too many surprises this afternoon to react with a jump when Graham's assistant returns to the outer office and speaks to her. She merely turns her head towards the assistant's desk.
"The director is ready for you now, Agent Walker," the assistant says, sitting down at her desk.
Sarah nods and stands up. "Thank you." She turns to the man, to . . . she doesn't know what. But she's saved from trying to come up with something to say that will conclude this strange conversation, because the man isn't there anymore.
Well, that explains the oddness. Realizing you've been talking with a time traveler is always a bit jarring, although this conversation was even weirder than usual.
Still . . . she wishes she caught the agent's name. But it's too late now, and the director is waiting. So Sarah walks slowly into Director Graham's office, hoping that her future isn't about to take a turn for the worse.
XXX
"Where were you this time?"
Chuck rolled over and smiled at Sarah, who looks sleepy and rumpled, as only the mother of three children can. Which meant she's beautiful. "Sitting in Graham's office, I guess. Not that I was ever there. Watching you nibble on your lower lip before you went in to talk to him about something."
They had long ago discovered that whoever is visited by the other doesn't remember the encounter. Probably it's some built-in precaution the universe is taking to prevent horrible life-destroying paradoxes. As a result, when they realized their connection, they promised to always tell each other about said encounters-at least that they happened, if the judgement of the traveler felt that anything more was too dangerous.
Time travel is still, after forty years of study, a mystery to scientists and most of the world. There's just no way to really understand it unless you can do it yourself-not that the traveler has much control over the situation. Chuck had sometimes wondered over the years if his and Sarah's unique connection could help advance science's understanding, but neither of them had wanted to take the risk of being split up and stuck in a lab for the rest of their lives. Not when Chuck already risked that happening with the Intersect.
So they've made their own rules, based on what Chuck has studied and what information is shared within the time traveler community. And Chuck has already committed to leaving his body to science after his death, so they can study his brain.
It didn't make Sarah very happy when he told her his plans, but she understood. After so many years together, so many things that they've experienced together and shared together, they don't worry much about paradoxes anymore. If they were going to cause one, they would have already done it. No secrets, no lies: that's their motto. It's helped them as time travelers, but even more it's helped them as a couple.
"Was my hair really curly and long?"
"I guess?" Chuck said. "It looked longer than it was when we met."
Sarah nodded and smiled at him a little. "In that meeting, Graham told me I was going to Burbank, to find this guy named Chuck Bartowski."
He laughed, wrapping his arms around her. "Yeah? That's pretty ironic."
Honestly, he had already guessed that was what the younger Sarah's meeting was about, thanks to having seen what day it was: September 19, 2007. The day after his birthday, the day that the CIA and NSA realized who had received the email that Bryce had sent. The day that he started on the path he had nearly finished.
At least, the career path.
"Yeah," Sarah said, resting her head on his shoulder. "To think, I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I walked into Graham's office that day . . ."
"And look at us now," Chuck replied, kissing the top of her head. "On the verge of retiring, three kids, happily married with a house in the suburbs . . ."
"You want to go skydiving tomorrow?"
It was an old joke between them: Chuck enumerating all the ways they had become normal, middle-class, middle-aged people, and Sarah finding a way to remind them both of what they also were: spies, risk-takers, adventure-seekers. Because they could be and were both.
Just like always, Chuck burst out laughing at Sarah's question, but even more from the look of mock-horror on her face. Sarah grinned and kissed his cheek. "I know how excited you are about retiring, but I'm looking forward to it, too. Having more time with the kids, getting to travel for fun . . . and best of all, more time with you."
"I know, baby," he said, pressing a soft kiss against her hair. "That's why we're doing it together."
She lifted her head and gave him the same smile he saw nearly thirty years ago across the Nerd Herd desk. "You know what else we could do together, now that you're back?"
Even as his heart rate picks up, Chuck tried to act blasé. "Um . . . go through our paperwork?"
"No, Chuck," she said softly, in a voice that was almost a purr. She pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw and Chuck sighed, giving up on playing dumb.
"Oh. That."
Sarah's laugh was almost a giggle, and her eyes danced as she lifted them to his. "Yes, Chuck. That." She slid on top of him, cupping his face in her hands as she kissed him slowly.
And as his wife started to move against him, Chuck forgot about the past and the future and thought only of right now.
End.
Author's Note 2: There's a lot more moments I could have included, but for now, this story has come to a close. I hope you enjoyed it, and if you did and you'd like to see more, drop me a review. Thanks for reading!