Saving Moscow, Chapter 2 (2/9)
Author: dettiot
Rating: T
Summary: Fulcrum may be nearly defeated, but the greatest struggle yet is still to come for Chuck and Sarah. Sent undercover at Volkoff Industries, Sarah worries about losing herself. Back in Burbank, Chuck worries about his future. Will they defeat their enemies in time for their dream wedding and get their happily ever after? The fourth story in the Finding Home series.
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck. No copyright infringement intended.
Author's Note: It's so great to see how people are responding to this story so far! I hope you continue to enjoy it. I owe a huge amount of thanks to Steampunk . Chuckster, for being my first reader and always at the ready to discuss ideas at the drop of a hat. I'm really lucky to have her in my corner.
XXX
Theoretically, working for Alexei Volkoff shouldn't have made much of a difference in the life of Sabina Radwanska. She still did courier runs, made deliveries, and threatened delinquent account holders. It was about serving her dues within the organization, she knew. The more prestigious assignments would come, work that was more important. And at that point, she would be more established within the Volkoff organization.
But for Sarah Walker, things were different.
There was no down time now. No opportunities to relax and be herself. She felt like she was watched all the time. It might just be paranoia, but she couldn't shake the feeling. It had only been two weeks and she already had moments where she wanted to lock herself in a bathroom and be alone.
Volkoff had insisted that "Sabina" stay in one of his houses in Moscow. It was home to an assortment of his people: secretaries and bodyguards, sharing a six-bedroom house and taking advantage of a boss's generosity in the crowded, expensive, corrupt housing market of the Russian city. Even with her quickly-gained reputation for keeping to herself, she had to spend some time with the other people in the house. And Sarah didn't trust any of them.
As she took a quick shower, Sarah gave herself a pep talk. She had done undercover work before, although certainly not this deep or for this long. It was understandable that she was having some difficulty adjusting, given how long it had been since she worked undercover. Plus, it had also been over a year since she had worked solo instead of with a team or a partner. She needed to stop beating herself up over how she felt.
For a moment, she closed her eyes and imagined Chuck's hand rubbing against her back, soothing her. She could almost hear him speak in her ear. "Go easy on yourself. You're doing great. Stay safe."
When she opened her eyes, Sarah felt calmer. Ready to take up the mantle of Sabina again. And that was a good thing, since today would be a busy day. There was a package to deliver to Warsaw and an event in St. Petersburg this evening before she would return to Moscow. She didn't know much about tonight's job other than she would be working with Frost.
If the woman was only Volkoff's second in command, Sarah would be gearing up for it, looking for a way to distinguish herself. But adding in that Frost was actually Mary Bartowski and she was determined to perform flawlessly whatever role she was assigned.
It was so strange and amazing that she would find Chuck's mother like this. Just stumbling upon her, without any planning or effort. But this discovery opened up a world of questions. What was Mary doing here? Had she been here for the nearly fifteen years she had been gone from Chuck's life? What was a CIA agent doing working for Alexei Volkoff? Did she want to be there? And the biggest question of all: should she tell Chuck about where his mother was?
While Sarah dressed, she looked at the chunky men's watch that Sabina always wore. With the Morse code transmitter hidden inside one of the dials, she could get a message out. But she knew it would go to Graham, and right now she didn't have any confidence that he would share the information with Chuck. The deputy director would probably feel that telling Chuck would interfere with the investigation into Mary Bartowski and her possible defection-that it would be too dangerous.
With a sigh, Sarah fastened the watch around her wrist. For now, it was more important for her to learn more about Frost. In the long run . . . it might be better for Chuck to not know about his mother's location. Or at least, for him to find out from Sarah herself, when she was done with this mission and could answer all his questions and tell him what she had learned.
She wouldn't send a message yet. It would be better to keep the watch's transmitter for high-priority messages instead of using it to send love notes to her fiancé. Glancing at the watch, she noticed it was time for her to leave and get to the airport. There was a private plane waiting to take her to Warsaw.
The flight to the Polish capital was uneventful. The package was probably some kind of banned or illegal weapon, she thought, from its size. But she certainly didn't ask for any details. She just handed the package over to the contact at the agreed-upon meeting place and got a large bag of cash in return.
Stepping onto the plane afterwards, Sarah saw a large, hulking man sitting in one of the seats, wearing a pair of headphones and chortling at the video playing on the monitor in front of him. When she walked past him and sat in the row of seats across from him, she saw that the movie was something with men in white suits and bowler hats, dancing as they kicked and beat an old man.
The man eyed her for a long moment, watching as Sarah took out a Warsaw paper and started reading it. Then he pulled off his headphones and moved closer to her. "You, I do not know," he said in Russian, his accent thick and lower-class.
"That is correct," she said, turning a page of the newspaper.
"Don't be like that, baby," he said. "Be friendly to Yuri the Gobbler and it pays off."
Yuri the Gobbler? That got her attention, although she kept her expression neutral and on the paper. He was Volkoff's personal bodyguard, someone who had been with him since the beginning. He also had the reputation of eating people. And while she was certain she could take him-he was definitely the all muscle, no strategy type-it wouldn't help her on this assignment if she kicked his ass.
Slowly, Sarah lowered the paper and looked at him. "Am I supposed to be scared? Yuri the Gobbler?"
His grin was half-leer, half-smirk. "Gobbler means many things. You might like some of them, da?"
Even though she had been propositioned by countless men over the years, Sarah felt she could confidently say she had never been subjected to such a creepy come-on. But cultivating Volkoff's trusted lieutenant would be a very good idea.
So she folded up her paper and set it aside, then turned to face him. "I'm Sabina. I'm new."
"I like new girls. Especially pretty ones. Mr. Volkoff is so in love with his Frost, he doesn't think of all of us men, who need someone to impress."
Yuri was boastful and cocky. But she also noticed that one of his eyes was a fake one. That was curious.
"And you like impressing girls, Mr. Yuri?" she asked, her voice soft and caressing.
"Da, of course," he said with a grin, spreading his arms wide. "Why else have muscles?"
Sarah let out a soft, airy laugh. "I see."
"You and me, we could have fun tonight, da?" He leaned towards her. "Go dancing. I know the best club in St. Petersburg." His eyes ran down her legs in her tight leather pants.
"Another time," she said, feeling very grateful that she had an iron-clad excuse for turning him down. "I'm meeting Frost when the plane lands."
He shuddered. "Frost, she is well-named. Cold bitch."
"To be strong, a woman sometimes must be a bitch," Sarah said. "Perhaps Mr. Volkoff finds that helpful." She paused and shrugged. "But I am new. What do I know?"
"Be careful, new girl," Yuri said, lifting up his headphones and sliding them back on. "Frost would cut out your eye if it helped Mr. Volkoff." He looked at her meaningfully, then turned back to his video.
Now that he wasn't paying attention to her, Sarah let herself lean back slightly in her seat. She picked up the newspaper, more to shield her face as she thought. So Yuri didn't like Frost. It wasn't very surprising; they both held positions of power and depended on Volkoff's trust. That was bound to create friction. Yet Yuri's warning-and his reference to an eye being cut out-made her wonder if he wasn't right about Frost and cutting out an eye.
XXX
There was a car on the tarmac when Sarah stepped out of the plane. She noticed with some surprise that it wasn't a luxury car, but an old Lada Niva off-road vehicle. Frost stood by the car, talking on a cell phone and pacing.
Squaring her shoulders, Sarah walked towards Frost, moving slowly. When she was close enough to hear her conversation, she paused, wondering what she should do. Try to eavesdrop? Or display her loyalty to Volkoff?
Frost, her back to Sarah, talked loudly over the noise of the planes taking off and landing. Sarah could only hear snatches of the conversation, carried on the strong wind gusting through the area.
"-the Norseman must be ready-"
Sarah made a snap judgement. She had to ingratiate herself with Frost-not just for tonight's mission, but if she wanted to stay with Volkoff Industries long enough to learn actual intelligence. So it would be better to show her loyalty and respect for Volkoff and his people.
Nearly stomping her feet, Sarah walked into Frost's line of sight, waiting for the other woman to acknowledge her. When Frost nodded, Sarah hung back, clearly showing that she wasn't trying to eavesdrop.
After a few moments, Frost pocketed her phone and gestured for Sarah to come closer. In Russian, Frost said, "You speak English?"
"Yes, Frost," Sarah said, making sure her Polish accent was noticeable enough to fit with her cover identity.
"Good. Get in the car." Frost turned and opened the driver's side door, so Sarah moved quickly to get into the passenger seat.
Sitting with her hands in her lap, Sarah watched as Frost drove them into St. Petersburg. The older woman stayed silent, clearly not one for small talk. But Sarah didn't mind, since it gave her a chance to observe Frost. To look for any evidence that this really was Chuck's mother.
The age was right. Frost appeared to be in her early to mid-fifties, old enough to have children the same age as Ellie and Chuck. She bore some resemblance to Ellie and Chuck in coloring: brown hair and brown eyes. But . . . but in every other way, Sarah really couldn't see it.
Chuck and Ellie were two of the warmest, kindest, most genuine people she had ever met. Even after his training and work as a spy, Chuck was the same friendly, open man she had met in Mexico. Ellie had welcomed Sarah from the first moment they had met, offering friendship and an open ear. It was thanks to them that she knew what it was to be a good friend.
So how could two such amazing people, overflowing with the milk of human kindness, have come from the woman sitting next to her? Although Sarah knew appearances could be deceiving, and she had only had limited contact with Frost so far, she couldn't help agreeing with Yuri in thinking that Frost was cold.
"You were on the plane with Yuri?"
Frost's voice broke the heavy silence in the car. Sarah nodded. "Yes, I was."
"Good. It'll make it easier to find him if we both know what he looks like." Frost's voice was matter-of-fact.
Looking at her, Sarah waited, not asking any questions. Curiosity didn't just kill cats. But she must have given off an air of someone expecting more information, because Frost sighed heavily. "Yuri has something that Mr. Volkoff wants. We're going to take it back."
"I see," Sarah said.
"Irony of ironies," Frost said under her breath.
Sarah frowned. "I don't understand."
"We're taking Yuri's eyeball." Frost looked over at her, then nodded to the box resting on the floor of the car. "Open that."
As directed, Sarah leaned down and lifted the deceptively heavy box onto the seat in-between herself and Frost. She lifted the lid enough to see two Beretta 92s and a sharp knife.
"Have you ever fired a 92?" Frost asked.
In truth, Sarah had used a wide range of guns, but it had been over three years since she had used a Beretta. So she shook her head. "No, but it's a gun. Aim, breathe, squeeze."
"Not much kick. Trigger takes a lot of pressure to shoot. Adjust accordingly," Frost said, turning the Lada onto Palace Bridge.
"Yes, Frost," Sarah said, craning her neck a little to see where they were going. "Are we going to Vasilyevsky Island?" she asked, referring to the island in the middle of the Neva River, reached by the bridge they were currently on.
Frost looked at her with narrowed eyes. It was hard to tell what that look meant exactly, but Frost's voice was full of disdain when she spoke. Like she was having to explain something to an idiot. "When Yuri is in St. Petersburg, he visits a club in a converted factory located on the island. You will go in and lure him out of the club through the door in the southwest corner of the building. Then we'll take care of him."
It was all she could do not to nibble on her lower lip. Because she knew something that could ruin this plan. "Yuri knows I was meeting you. But you don't want him to know you're in the club, yes?"
"Since he'll immediately suspect that I've been sent to kill him, yes, please find something to tell him that will make him think I'm not here," Frost snapped.
She nearly winced. Frost really did live up to her name: cold and cutting.
To give herself something to do, Sarah pulled off her trench coat. She needed her outfit to be more appropriate for a woman going clubbing. Her leather pants would be fine, but her black long-sleeved utility shirt covered up too much skin.
Yanking the shirt over her head, Sarah gave thanks that she had put a black tank top on under the utility shirt. She dropped the shirt on top of her trench, then rolled up the tank to just underneath her breasts, knotting the excess fabric and rolling it underneath the makeshift hem. Not only was her midriff revealed, but the top was now tight over her breasts.
"Obvious, but sure to be effective," Frost said dryly. "You'll need a weapon, though."
"I have a throwing knife in each boot heel," Sarah said, taking down her hair and running her fingers through the artificial strands. "But I can get Yuri out of the club without needing one."
"Women like you don't last long in this line of work," Frost said, casually scraping the Lada against a BMW as she parked it on a small, dark street.
Sarah looked at Frost. "What do you mean, women like me?" There was an edge to her voice that Sarah didn't quite understand. But she was so utterly confused by this woman. Confused by who she might be and what she was telling Sarah. Or, in truth, what she was telling Sabina.
Frost looked at her as she picked up the Berettas, sliding them underneath her long leather jacket. "When your tits and ass fall, you'll have to find some way to eat. You're young, you think you'll be beautiful forever, think you'll live forever. It doesn't last." She paused, then picked up the knife and slid it up the arm of her jacket. "Think like a man if you want to last, Radwanska."
Through the twenty-five years of her life, Sarah had faced a lot of criticism. Her father had never held back when he thought she had screwed up. CIA trainers were from the same class as drill sergeants, and her first handlers hadn't been much better. Graham had certainly expressed his disappointment in her several times. But no one had ever sized her up and cut her down so efficiently and brutally before.
She had to remember that Frost was talking about Sabina, not Sarah. She had to remember that. This wasn't Chuck's mother hating on her son's fiancée. This was about Frost disliking a new employee.
Lifting her chin, she pinned Frost with her gaze, then held out her hand. "Give me one of the guns."
"And where are you going to hide it?" Frost said tartly before yanking out one of the Berettas.
Snatching up her trench, Sarah gave Frost an annoyed look. "Where do you think?" Within a moment, she had hidden the gun at the small of her back and pulled her trench coat back on.
"Meet me outside the southwest door in twenty minutes," Sarah said, reaching for the door handle. She held her head high and her shoulders back as she stepped out of the car and walked towards the club.
The air was chilly, its cold fingers finding a way in through her trench and running over her bare skin. But she didn't feel it. She was too angry, too furious to notice. Perhaps Frost meant it as a correction for her, advice that would improve herself. But no, Sarah was pretty sure the woman just wanted to slam her. To make her feel small and cheap and insignificant.
While Frost had managed to do just that, that wasn't going to keep her from doing her job. She was going to find Yuri and then she would take care of him. She would get that eyeball and prove that Sabina Radwanska was more than a pair of tits and an ass.
At the door to the club, the bouncer eyed her. She quickly spread her coat open wide, displaying her body for him. He smirked and stepped aside to let her in. She gave him her best sultry smile before closing her coat and brushing past him.
It was your typical factory converted into a nightclub: flashing strobe lights, deafening music, women with too little clothing and men with too much fat. It was the kind of place she had been to before, when she was in training and learning how to seduce a mark, how to blend in while on assignment. She knew she could do this. She just had to stay focused.
As she sauntered through the club, looking for Yuri, Sarah knew that she was probably playing right into Frost's hands. And even worse, she was slipping into the role that Langston Graham had always wanted for her: his enforcer. That was why he had fast-tracked her through training, mentoring her through the years. But when she had fallen for Chuck and become part of his team, Graham's plans had been derailed. So he had just waited for the right opportunity, and now, here she was. Dressed in skimpy clothes, ready to knife some terrorist in a Russian club.
Sighing, she grabbed a drink from a passing waitress's tray and downed it. Now wasn't the time to think about all this. She had a man to find and an eyeball to cut out.
When she lowered the glass, she spotted Yuri. He was sitting in a roomy booth along the back wall, a mixed group of women and men sharing the booth with him. He was only fifteen feet from the door where Frost was waiting. Perhaps things were looking up. She just had to get through this and then, within a few hours, she would be back in Moscow, in her little room, where she could close her eyes and try, for a little while, to remember just who Sarah Walker was.
Sarah walked up to Yuri and feigned a nonchalant attitude. "Mr. Yuri? Remember me?"
Yuri looked up at her, his mouth twisting. "You're not really dressed for this place, new girl."
"I only let special people look." She undid the belt of her trench and once again opened the coat for a brief moment. His eyes weren't the only ones crawling over her. Then she gave him a small smirk and closed up the coat. "And only very special people get to touch." She paused and tilted her head. "Which are you, Mr. Yuri?"
He smirked. "Nicely done, new girl." He narrowed his eyes. "I thought you were meeting the Ice Queen tonight."
Shrugging her shoulders, Sarah sat next to him. "She told me to beat it. And your suggestion earlier sounded so good, I made a few calls and found you."
"You should have just taken me up on my offer earlier, then we could have had more fun," he said, his hand resting heavily on her shoulder.
"The night's still young. Plenty of time for fun," she said, moving so that his hand slid from her shoulder down over the lapel of her jacket, coming within inches of her breast.
He raised his eyebrows. "I think I know why Frosty the Bitch didn't want you around." He leaned in towards her, whispering in her ear. "You're too damn hot-you'd melt her."
Her skin was crawling slightly. She was so tired of the sex kitten act. Tired of doing what a woman in this situation was expected to do: use her looks and her sex appeal to lure a man in before killing him. This wasn't what Sabina Radwanska would do. It was ridiculous that she would resort to such cheap tricks when she could take Yuri down. The thought of smashing her boot heel into his knee, crushing his windpipe with her fist, and making his blood run . . . it was so tempting.
Focus. She had to stay focused.
Turning away from Yuri, she grabbed the first drink she saw on the table and drank it quickly. The liquor burned on the way down, but it gave her clarity. She needed to get out of here. This job needed to be done, so she could get away and regroup.
She turned her head and spoke into his ear. "Actually . . . Mr. Volkoff called me with a very important job. Something he didn't want Frost to know about."
"You move fast, new girl. You gonna toss out Frost and take her place?" Yuri asked, grinning widely.
"Maybe," she said with a Mona Lisa smile. "You want to find out what Mr. Volkoff wanted?"
Yuri brushed her hair back, his fingers touching her neck. "Da, new girl."
Sarah stood up and crooked her finger. "This way, then."
The other men at the table smirked, one even giving Yuri a high five as he got up and followed her. Sarah walked slowly, her hands in her coat pockets and her eyes locked on the southwest door. Nearly there . . .
"Is Mr. Volkoff waiting for us?" Yuri asked as he caught up with her.
"Mmm-hmm," she said. "Just outside this door," she said, gesturing ahead of them towards the exit. "We better hurry."
Yuri nodded and put his hand on the doorknob, pulling the door open. Sarah let him go first, pulling out the Beretta and holding it on his back.
The old factory that housed the nightclub butted up hard against the Bolshaya Neva River; there was only a thin patch of weeds for about twenty yards before the retaining wall that held back the waters. There was no moon and little ambient light, so it took Sarah's eyes a moment to adjust.
"Mr. Volkoff?" the bodyguard said, stepping away from the club.
"Sorry, Yuri." Frost stepped out of the shadows, her gun out.
From behind him, Sarah could see his whole body tense. He turned, as if ready to go back into the club, but Sarah cocked the Beretta in her hands. Then he sighed heavily. "Twenty years of loyalty get me this?"
Frost shrugged. "Looks like Alexei has decided it's better to have Hydra in a computer after all," she said, her voice quietly triumphant.
Hydra? What was that?
Before Sarah could mull over the question much longer, Yuri lashed out. For a big man, he moved quickly-fast enough to get his hands around Frost's throat and begin choking her. Without any delay, Sarah aimed and squeezed the trigger. As Frost had indicated, it did take more pressure than she had expected, making her first shot hit in the middle of his back instead of in his kidney. She let off two more shots, hitting her targets: the kidney and the back of his head.
The body dropped and Frost stepped away, coughing a little as she regained her breath. "Told you to adjust."
"Clearly, I did," Sarah said, sliding the gun into the pocket of her trench. She yanked a knife out of her boot and walked over, turning over the corpse. "Which eye?"
"Left," Frost said shortly. It might have been Sarah's imagination, but she thought there was the slightest, tiniest hint of warmth in Frost's voice. But then she was cutting into Yuri's eye socket and she had to pay attention to that.
XXX
After that assignment, things started to change. Somehow, she had managed to sway Frost slightly, enough that the other woman's hatred mellowed into extreme disdain. But Sabina started getting jobs that required more than just threats. There was actual physical punishment. And also, there were parties.
Volkoff liked to press the flesh at various parties and events. He liked to have Frost and a few of his higher-ups attend with him, all to present an image of culture and sophistication. To Sarah, it just made him even more intimidating. It made you understand the phrase "the banality of evil."
Now that Yuri was gone, Volkoff seemed to be trying out new bodyguards. But at formal events, something more subtle was called for, apparently.
"There's a cocktail party tomorrow night in Barcelona," Frost explained. "Alexei wants you there to protect him."
Sarah nodded, setting aside the gun she was cleaning. "Of course, Frost."
The woman threw a credit card down on the table next to the disassembled gun. "Pick out something black and inconspicuous. Keep an eye on Alexei, mingle, and don't stay longer than an hour. ETA parties are too dangerous otherwise."
"So you won't be attending?" Sarah asked, handing the card back to Frost. "I will keep Mr. Volkoff safe. And I have a dress."
Frost sniffed but took the card back. "Fine. The jet will leave tomorrow morning. Grigori will go with you, to organize everything," she said, naming one of Volkoff's army of personal assistants/bodyguards.
"Yes, Frost," Sarah said, returning to her gun as she mentally rearranged her day. It was true, she did have a dress. One that would work fine for the event. An event that she couldn't help looking forward to.
Ever since she and Frost had returned with Yuri's eyeball, it had been three weeks of hard, messy jobs. Although nothing had compared to what she had felt on that mission, she supposed it mostly had to do with not working with Frost. The woman definitely wasn't her biggest fan, Sarah thought as she slowly brushed the inside of her gun barrel.
But what did it matter? She had clearly passed some kind of test with Frost and now she was getting better jobs. Plus, she was now positioned better to pick up scraps of intel. There was word floating around Volkoff Industries that there was some kind of big, important meeting happening in about a month. A meeting that would really change things, so she had heard.
Sarah was determined to be in that meeting. She had a sneaking suspicion that it would be about Fulcrum, about this shadowy Director and his plans for the terrorist organization, and the role that Volkoff and his company would play in the future. If she was there, it could be just what was needed to take down Volkoff, Fulcrum, the whole lot.
Being asked to serve as his bodyguard at a party was a feather in her cap. And it would be as close to downtime as she could get. So she was going to savor the potential in this assignment, to eat tapas and not having to kill anyone.
The next evening, Sarah rested her hand lightly on Alexei Volkoff's arm as they stepped into an apartment in La Pedrera. The flats in the historic building were large and open, full of curving walls and intimate balconies-a good setting for a cocktail party attended by terrorists. She was wearing a form-fitting black dress, with sleeves to her wrists and a skirt to the ground. It allowed her to have throwing knives up her sleeves and two guns in ankle and thigh holsters. Plus, it let her blend in.
Volkoff, who had been talking her ear off the whole time, smiled brightly at her. "Now, Ms. Radwanska, I'm afraid I'll have to do some flirting tonight. No running off and telling tales to my Frost, eh?"
"Not at all, Mr. Volkoff," she said, giving him a small smile. "And neither will Grigori, I'm sure." She nodded to the assistant, who was standing on the other side of Volkoff.
"Fantastic!" Volkoff said, lifting her hand from his arm. "Why don't you go get us some drinks?"
She nodded. "Of course, sir." Sarah turned, her long ponytail brushing against her back as she headed towards the bar. The small crowd parted slightly, enough for her to slip up to the bar and order the drinks.
Casually, Sarah leaned back against the bar, looking around the room. It was filled with a collection of men in tuxedos and women in sparkly short dresses. Already, the room was feeling stuffy and she wished for some fresh air. Perhaps she could step out onto one of the balconies for a moment . . .
Looking over her shoulder, she saw Volkoff deep in conversation with a short, middle-aged man who was nibbling on a coca. Grigori was by Volkoff's side, his eyes alert. This might be her only chance. So Sarah didn't hesitate as she walked towards the balcony by the end of the bar and stepped outside.
The air was warm and fragrant, the evening hour advanced enough that most of the day's heat had escaped. Of course, late May was a good bit warmer in Spain than it was in Russia. Sarah found herself smiling as she breathed deeply.
There were a few soft clinks, like the sound of something metal hitting stone. Instantly on alert, she looked around and realized that there were two black-clad figures rappelling down the side of the building. And they would nearly be on top of her in a moment.
Sarah pulled out her knives, holding them at the ready as the feet, then the legs and torsos of the men dropped below the edge of the balcony above her. They could be assassins, they could be rival arms dealers hoping to get a cut of the action, they could be-
Her knives dropped to the balcony when the rest of the men eased into view. She pressed a hand against her mouth, knowing that her eyes were the size of saucers.
So were the men's eyes. Because it was Chuck and Bryce.
For a long, endless moment, she stared at Chuck. Wondering if perhaps she might be hallucinating. Then, in a move that had no grace at all, Chuck pulled himself up and got over the railing of the balcony to stand in front of her, stumbling a bit over his line.
She nearly started laughing hysterically. "What-what are you doing here?" she asked in a hushed voice, as Bryce joined them on the balcony, sweeping his eyes around.
"Staking out this party thrown by the ETA," Chuck said, his voice low and soft and wonderful. He reached out slowly, pausing just before his fingers made contact with her cheek.
Something about having him nearly touching her made everything inside her crack. She couldn't hold herself back. Wrapping her arms around him tightly, Sarah held Chuck for all she was worth, unable to believe how lucky she was. He was here. Warm and whole, not moping in Burbank or losing his faith in them.
His arms were just as tight around her, his hands lightly stroking her back just in the way she'd imagined him doing a hundred times since she had left him. "Shhhh, baby," he said into her hair.
After feeling ready to laugh just a moment ago, now she felt like crying. Her emotions were all over the place, leaving her trembling and clinging. She just needed to hold him for as long as she could, until she could figure out what to tell him. Until she had wrestled, once again, with her discovery of just where his mother was.
"Guys, I'm sorry, but you're gonna have to make the reunion fast. We've only got two minutes to spare," Bryce said, his voice sounding regretful. He shifted, turning his back to them and giving them what privacy was possible on the small balcony.
With only two minutes available to them, Sarah knew that telling him about his mother was out. She felt a stab of guilt: maybe she didn't love him enough if she was willing to hold back on something he was so desperate to know, in order to have what little time they had for themselves.
Sarah pulled back and looked at Chuck, really looked at him. There were signs of tiredness on his face, but he appeared to be getting enough sleep and wasn't too thin. She stroked his hair. "You're okay? Really?"
He nodded. "I mean . . . I have bad days. But yeah, I'm okay." His eyes were soft and a bit sad, but so full of a luminous hope that she felt breathless.
"Me, too," she said softly, twisting her fingers a little in his hair. "But nothing's changed. We're going to have our wedding as soon as I'm done and . . . and everything will be perfect." Her voice broke a little on the last word, and she could feel tears threaten.
Chuck brushed a soft, light, adoring kiss over her temple. "It's okay," he said gently. "I know. It will be. We'll make it perfect. Just a little longer, S-" He cut himself off, looking around worriedly.
Standing on tiptoe, she leaned in close to him. "Say my name?" she asked, needing to hear it. Needing the reminder of just who she was.
And like always, Chuck seemed to know what she was feeling, what she needed. Because he moved his lips to her ear and whispered, just barely audible, "Sarah Walker. The future Mrs. Bartowski."
She gave him a big smile, because it had been so long since she had smiled at him and she wished that they didn't have just thirty seconds left. Because there was so much to say and no time to say it.
He ran his hand lightly over her hair, then gently cupped the back of her head. She knew what he was doing. He was leaning in for a kiss. And although all her reason was screaming out why this was a bad idea, she didn't care. She needed a kiss.
It was like the first time they had kissed, on the beach in Mexico. It was the kiss on the day he graduated from Project Omaha training. It was the kiss she gave him right before he got the Intersect. It was like the time they had kissed in Barstow, taking the first step to repair the rift between them. It was the kiss when they had gotten engaged. It was their last kiss before she left on this mission.
It was all that and more, because it was all they had. This stolen moment, the first time they had seen each other in nearly three months, was all they had.
All she wanted was to kiss him forever, but the sound of Bryce's voice cut through the reverie.
"Chuck, we have to go."
With every bit of her strength, she let the kiss end and stepped back from him. She swallowed, looking at him and knowing he was hurting just as much as she was. And she didn't want him to hurt, so she did her best to smile at him. "I have to get back inside."
"Okay," he said, his hands lightly stroking her upper arms. His voice sounded a bit shaky. "You know, this is kinda like I'm cheating on you with you."
Was there was anyone else in the world that might have come up with that idea in this moment? Sarah doubted it. She couldn't help laughing softly before she reached up to wipe away the lipstick from his mouth. "Be careful."
"Always," Chuck said. "And that goes double for you. I love you." He quickly kissed her cheek and climbed over the railing, following Bryce.
"I love you, too," she said softly, watching them go. Wishing she could just go with them. But instead, she leaned down, picked up her knives, and went back into the party, where there was no sign that her absence had been noticed by the murderous arms dealer she was protecting.
And as she spent the rest of the night mingling and sipping a drink, Sarah realized that she needed to find a way to tell Chuck about his mother. Not just because he deserved to know or because she wanted him to reconsider his search for his mother. But because she couldn't do this alone. She needed help.
She needed Chuck.
End, Chapter 2
