Saving Moscow, Chapter 3 (3/9)
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: Lightening things up a little with a switch to Chuck's POV.
XXX
Chuck Bartowski was man enough to admit when he was scared or upset or unhappy. He had always been sensitive and emotional. Usually, when he was working, he could find a way to think clearly enough to do his job and not be a basketcase.
This was not one of those times.
If it wasn't for Bryce, he might have just sat down in a corner and rocked back and forth. Sarah was here, in this very building! He'd gotten two minutes with her, which wasn't nearly enough for everything he had to say to her. It wasn't enough time to soothe the sadness he saw in her eyes, ease the emptiness he sensed inside her. And two minutes definitely wasn't enough time to hold her and kiss her and be close to her again, even if she didn't really look like his Sarah right now.
But that was the point. She couldn't be Sarah now. She was whatever her cover identity was. He had badgered Graham and even tried hacking his way into the CIA databases to find out what Sarah's cover name was, but he hadn't been able to find it.
"This way," Bryce said, pulling Chuck along through the corridors. "C'mon, buddy, I need you to override the locks so we can get into the parking garage."
He swallowed and nodded. "Yeah, okay." Chuck fumbled in his utility belt, pulling out a screwdriver and his cell phone to crack the electronic lock. He pried off the keypad and clipped the cell phone to the lock's wires, letting the phone unscramble the combination.
"I'm sorry you couldn't have more time," Bryce said quietly, his gun out as he covered the corridor.
"I know," Chuck said, glancing at Bryce quickly. "I'm trying to tell myself that at least I got to see her, but . . ."
Bryce nodded in understanding, not needing Chuck to finish the sentence. The lock clicked and Chuck pushed the door open, sliding the cell phone back into his belt pouch. He drew his gun and stepped slowly into the garage, Bryce following him.
"Let's find a car and get out of here," Bryce said, his eyes sweeping around the lines of luxury and sports cars.
"You said it," Chuck said, stopping by a Mercedes. He was ready to break into it, when Bryce let out a soft whistle.
"Forget the Mercedes-let's take this one."
"What?" Chuck asked, turning around and seeing Bryce gazing at a sleek Lotus, his expression bordering on disturbing.
"A Lotus? Seriously?" Chuck asked, walking over to join Bryce.
"I've wanted to drive one of these since I saw Pretty Woman."
While Chuck was grateful for Bryce getting him through this mission, he had to wonder if his friend was overdoing it a little. Trying to keep Chuck's spirits up by acting ridiculous. On the other hand, right now this was about the only thing that was keeping him from basketcasing, so . . .
"You've seen Pretty Woman?" Chuck asked, putting some extra astonishment in his voice.
Bryce rolled his eyes. "Girl I dated in high school loved it. Probably should have realized sooner what that meant. C'mon, let's take this one."
"Okay, okay," Chuck said, working to disengage the lock. After a moment, the locks popped and Bryce grinned widely before pulling open the driver's door. Chuck hurried to get in through the passenger door before Bryce pulled out.
They shot out of the garage, Bryce driving smoothly-although really fast-through the streets of Barcelona. Chuck leaned back against his seat and closed his eyes.
Sarah had looked tired. Not in a noticeable way, except to someone like him, someone who knew her face better than his own. Because he didn't like looking at his face, but he loved looking at Sarah. But more than how she looked was how she had acted. How tightly she held him, her whole body trembling. The way she had burrowed in against him, needing comfort and support. It was because of that, more than anything else, that he wished they could have had longer together.
He was really worried about her. About what it was going to be like when she came back. He refused to think she wouldn't come back to him-not his Sarah. But what if, by the time the job was done, she wasn't quite herself anymore? If something special that made her into Sarah Walker got . . . broken?
No matter what, he'd stand by her. If she needed him, he would be there. Always. Nothing would change that-
Oh, God. What if she changed so much that she didn't want him anymore? What if she didn't want to be with him? Chuck felt himself breath harder, his fists clenching. Could he do that? Could he let her go, let go of all the dreams he had about getting married and having kids with her?
"Chuck?"
The weight of Bryce's hand on his shoulder snapped Chuck out of his stupor. He felt so dazed and scared and frantic with worry that his words just tumbled out without any kind of filter. "Bryce-Bryce, what if Sarah changes and she doesn't want to get married when she's done at Volkoff's?"
"That's crazy!" Bryce looked at Chuck for a second before returning his eyes to the road. "She's not going to change her mind."
"How do you know? You don't know her like I do and she's going through something so hard right now-she could end up a completely different person!"
Bryce blew out a breath and looked around them, before pulling the car into a side street and parking by the curb. Then he turned to look at Chuck. "Seriously, Chuck. She's not going to change her mind. I saw the way she looked at you. You're all that's getting her through this."
"Have you ever worked undercover?" Chuck stopped and rubbed his eyes. "Of course you have. That's what you were doing for the year before you came here."
"Yeah . . ." Bryce said quietly.
"Was it awful?" Chuck asked, looking at Bryce. "Having to hide who you really were?"
He looked out through the windshield, his jaw working a little. "You want the comforting answer or the honest one?"
While Chuck appreciated Bryce giving him a choice, it just made him worry all the more. Especially since he wanted the truth. The full, unvarnished truth, even though it would hurt like hell. "The honest one."
"It sucked," Bryce said bluntly. "You're on guard all the time, trying to be another person, trying not to slip up. You second-guess yourself all the time. And no matter how much you compartmentalize, shoving your real self down deep . . . you can get hurt in ways you never imagined."
Each word was like a punch to the gut. Chuck swallowed and rubbed his sweaty palms against his jeans. "But-but you don't think Sarah will change her mind?"
"Long-term undercover assignments, they mess with your head a bit. If some part of your life wasn't good before, it's easy to cut ties after you get back." Bryce paused, as if to let his words sink in. "But you and Sarah? You were completely, one hundred percent rock solid when she left. I don't really see her changing her mind about you. She's probably worrying that you're the one who's gonna change his mind."
"What?!" Chuck said, unable to keep the shock out of his voice.
"C'mon, Chuck, do I have to spell it out to you?" Bryce shifted in his seat and started up the car. "She's undercover. She's not Sarah right now. How do you think she's gonna feel when she comes back?"
As Bryce drove them towards the remote location outside the city where their supplies were stashed, Chuck thought over his friend's words. Was that something Sarah was worried about? Did she think about losing him as much as he thought about losing her?
Of course she did, Chuck told himself. He had never doubted Sarah's feelings for him. Even in those dark days last year, he knew how much she cared about him. And in the last few months, ever since they had gotten engaged . . . there had been no question that they were happy together. Even when the situation wasn't great, like during his fake relationship with Jill, Sarah had shown that she loved him.
But why would she think he would want to back out on the wedding, that he would no longer care about her? Just because she was undercover?
When the answer came to him, he practically groaned. Some genius he was.
It wasn't because she was undercover. It was where she was doing her undercover assignment: deep inside Volkoff Industries, an amoral company run by an evil terrorist. An unstable, unpredictable man held her life in the palm of his hand, and Sarah had to do his bidding. She probably had done things she wasn't proud of already-things she wouldn't do if she had a choice. And yeah, you could play semantics and say that you always had a choice, but in the real world, that wasn't true.
If Sarah wanted to survive, she had to become her cover identity. And that meant beating up people whether they deserved it or not, stealing things that she didn't want to steal . . . even killing people.
The shame and guilt and disappointment must be crippling, Chuck thought. Already, the weight of such feelings was dragging Sarah down, if their short reunion was anything to judge by. When she came back, she would need all the love and support and attention he could give her.
And he would. He would give her whatever she needed. But he wouldn't let her push him away out of her guilt. He'd stand by her. He'd be strong for her, just like she had been strong for him so many times already.
He loved her. And he would make her see that he loved her no matter what.
XXX
It was nearly two weeks later that Chuck and Bryce finally got back to Burbank. Their assignment in Spain, to monitor the ETA and determine if another potential cease-fire might be in the planning stages, hadn't gone well. So they were both in the doghouse when they returned to California.
Chuck didn't really care much. It had been Bryce keeping things going ever since Sarah left, bullying and pushing Chuck into accepting various missions. He knew what Bryce was doing: trying to help him keep his mind occupied, keep him from worrying. And it was helping, and Chuck was grateful to him. Bryce had really become his friend again, giving him someone he could talk to about being a spy, someone who had known him for years before he'd ever heard of the Intersect or Project Omaha.
So it was good to have Bryce's support during all this. But he just wanted Sarah back.
It was early in the morning when Chuck walked into the office. It was hard for him to sleep in the apartment without Sarah, so he figured he'd come in and get started on some work. Sipping his venti coffee, Chuck settled in to go through the intelligence reports he had been sent over the last two weeks, expanding what was in the Intersect with more recent information. He flashed a few times, but since none of the flashes were of the large infodump nature, his head was doing okay.
Work helped. In fact, when Bryce came in a few hours later, a strange look on his face, Chuck was so entranced in a report that it took him a moment to realize something was up.
Pushing back from his computer, he rolled his desk chair closer to Bryce, who was sitting on the edge of the conference table. "Bryce? What is it?"
"We have to go to Toronto."
"What?" Chuck asked, feeling confused. "Toronto?"
Bryce nodded. "I have a drop there. I set it up when I got transferred to the Toronto office and I kept it going afterwards because I had used it with some of my Fulcrum contacts. I got a call this morning that something's waiting for me there."
"Sounds to me that it's just you who has to go to the Great White North, not both of us," Chuck said. But his attempt at humor fell very flat when he took a good look at Bryce.
"Chuck, whatever it is, it's addressed to you." Bryce paused and licked his lips. "I think it could be from Sarah."
He got up so quickly that his desk chair tipped over. "How . . . ?"
"I told her the code name that I had used when I worked with Fulcrum. It was months ago, before there was any idea she was going to get sent undercover," Bryce said, hurrying to keep up with Chuck as he headed towards the parking garage.
"Sarah's got an almost photographic memory," Chuck said, fighting with himself to slow down. "If you told her, she remembered."
"Yeah," Bryce said. "It looks like she must have gotten someone to leave something at my dead drop, and the guy who checks it for me sent me a message to say I had something to pick up."
Chuck shook his head, feeling a huge swell of pride and hope and relief. "That's my fiancée. And she thinks I'm the genius."
"Clearly, she doesn't know about you and biochemistry," Bryce joked.
Grinning at Bryce, Chuck shook his head. "Nope. C'mon!"
Before this turn of events, Chuck would have been glad to not see the inside of an airport for a long time. But now, he couldn't get to LAX fast enough. There was more waiting than he would have liked, but within eight hours they were pulling up to the location of Bryce's dead drop: a Tim Hortons in a gentrifying part of the city.
"Have a seat. You want a coffee?" Bryce asked.
"Yeah, but make it decaff," Chuck said, rubbing his eyes a little. He'd drunk so much coffee today that he felt like he was vibrating.
Slumping down in a molded plastic seat near a window, Chuck gazed outside, watching a mix of pedestrians and loiterers. The initial rush of adrenaline had faded, leaving him with more questions than answers. What was so important that Sarah had risked her cover in order to tell him something? There were so many ways that this could have backfired on her, yet she had somehow sent him a message.
Also, why hadn't he thought of this? Of finding some way for them to stay in touch, in case of emergencies? Sure, she had the Morse code transmitter in her watch, but those messages would be sent to Graham. He could understand Sarah not wanting to use it. Besides, any kind of long message wouldn't be easy to send in that manner.
He didn't think she would go through all this trouble just to tell him she missed him, but if it was so important that she broke protocol, why wouldn't she send word to Graham?
The emotional upheaval was making him feel like his mind was stuck in molasses. He was so tired. He just wanted Sarah back. With Sarah, life would begin making sense again.
The thud of donuts and coffees hitting the table made Chuck look at Bryce. Then he boggled at the amount of food in front of them. There was a large container emblazoned with the word Timbits and pictures of doughnut holes, as well as a half-dozen doughnuts beside the two paper cups of coffee on a tray. "Are we eating all this?"
"You might not be interested, but I'm going to try," Bryce said, giving Chuck a small grin. "Tim Hortons was all I missed about Canada. I'm a bit sad I missed out on Roll Up the Rim this year."
Chuck blinked, then shook his head and picked up the coffee that Bryce had pushed across the table to him. "I'm hoping that you'll make more sense after this."
"Have an apple fritter," Bryce said, taking a doughnut out of the box and sliding it over to Chuck. He leaned forward a little and whispered to Chuck, "The package is inside the Timbits box."
It took all his training not to immediately look at the Timbits box. Or just grab it and rip it open to see what Sarah had sent him. To get some answers to his questions, hopefully without creating several new questions.
The doughnut did smell good . . . and in all the hurry, the only food they'd had was pretzels on the plane. So Chuck somehow found enough patience to eat his apple fritter doughnut, which was good enough that he followed it up with a maple one.
"This is kinda like college," Bryce said, licking his fingers as he finished his second odd-looking doughnut, some raisin-filled concoction that Bryce called a Dutchie. "Sitting around, eating at weird hours . . ."
Chuck nodded as he finished his coffee. "Like during finals week, fall of junior year. When we lived on Red Vines."
"God, that was gross," Bryce said, smiling a little. He leaned back in his seat, sipping his second cup of coffee. "It's late. We should probably get a room and fly back tomorrow."
"Yeah," Chuck said, letting his eyes move to the Timbits box for a moment. He looked back at Bryce and tried to smile. "We'll have to come up with more excuses to come through Canada, if you like this place so much."
"They're not just in Canada, although I will say the coffee tastes better up here." Bryce stood up, picking up the doughnut box. "Grab the Timbits and I'll toss our cups."
After waiting so long, Chuck didn't have to be told twice. He managed to hold off on ripping open the box until they were in the car and Bryce was driving them towards Toronto Pearson International Airport and the nearby complex of hotels.
"You should wait until we're out of the open," Bryce said lightly.
"Sorry," Chuck said, not really sorry at all. He quickly opened up the paper container and blinked when he saw nothing but doughnut holes. Plunging his hand into the box, he started rooting around. When his fingers brushed against a USB drive, he couldn't help the "Hi-yo!" that burst out of him.
"Found it?"
He held up the USB drive, blowing on it to remove any stray sugar particles deposited onto the drive from the doughnut holes. "Yep. I'll pop it into my computer once we're in the hotel."
Bryce picked up the pace and soon they had checked into a hotel. Chuck barely waited for the door to be closed and locked behind them before he was opening his laptop and sticking the USB drive into the appropriate port.
The wait for the drive to be read by the computer felt endless. But within twenty seconds, a window displayed, showing that there was one file on the drive.
His fingers trembling a little, Chuck double-clicked on the file and leaned back in surprise as a video window appeared, Sarah in freeze-frame on the screen. He quickly hit the play button and moved his face close to the monitor, taking her in.
It looked like she had made the video with a webcam; few details of the room were visible behind her due to the low lighting. Sarah's face took up nearly the whole screen and her voice was hushed.
"I . . . I really hope this gets to you," she said softly. "I don't even want to think about the chance I'm taking, but-but I didn't get to tell you this when I saw you last, on the balcony, and this is something you need to know."
Sarah paused and looked down, her now-dark hair falling over her face. He couldn't get used to the jet-black strands. It looked so wrong on her, washing out her skin tone and making her eyes seem almost slate-blue; it underscored how different she had become for this assignment.
Taking a deep breath, Sarah looked back at the camera. "I think your mother is here."
What?
Chuck felt a shockwave go through him. His mother-Mary Elizabeth Bartowski, the woman who read him fairy tales and tucked him in-was in Russia? Was she Volkoff's prisoner? Or was she-
"I'm not sure, because . . . because we don't exactly get along, but I think she's the Frost that is Volkoff's second in command," Sarah said, her voice a bit halting. "The age is right, she's got the right coloring, she's American, and there's the code name."
She nibbled a little on her lower lip. "I'm going to try and find out more, but I thought you should know." Sarah gazed at the camera, her eyes sad. "I thought about telling you when I saw you, but I was too selfish . . . I wanted that moment to be for us and I knew telling you this would take up all the time and-I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, baby."
There were tears in Sarah's eyes. Chuck reached out and touched the screen, wishing he could touch her. Wishing that he could brush away the tears and reassure her and tell her it was going to be okay. Even in the midst of this bombshell, he couldn't stop worrying about Sarah.
For a moment, she turned away and all he could see was her hair. Then he heard her take a deep breath and look back at the camera, her face more composed. "From what I can tell, Frost has been working for Volkoff for over fifteen years. There's rumors that he's in love with her, but I don't know about that. She's . . ."
Sarah's voice trailed off. She looked torn about what to say, then she continued. "She's not innocent in all this. I don't know what's going on, but I'm going to find out. And if she doesn't want to be here, if she's like me . . . I'm going to get her out. For you."
He could feel his face going pale. "No, Sarah! Don't!"
"She can't hear you, buddy," Bryce said gently, resting a hand on Chuck's shoulder.
"I know," Chuck said, swallowing. He leaned in again, watching as Sarah glanced away from the camera for a moment before looking back, her voice more clipped as she spoke again.
"I have to go," Sarah said. "I really hope you get this message and that the dead drop is still open." She paused and her face changed, growing softer. She mouthed the words "I love you" to the camera, and then the video ended.
Almost without thought, Chuck reached forward to replay the video. He watched it again, trying not to get caught up in the emotion on display. When he started to watch it for a third time, Bryce reached over and stopped the video.
Chuck turned and glared at him. "I need to watch that."
"No, you don't. At least not now," Bryce said. "You're wallowing. You've been wallowing ever since Sarah left." Chuck opened his mouth to protest, but Bryce cut him off. "With good reason. But it's time to stop doing that. You've got to keep going-with work and with the wedding plans."
"If you're aiming to lose another fight, keep going," Chuck said, feeling his anger grow as he reminded Bryce about their knock-down fight a few months ago, the one that had started repairing their friendship. But right now, Chuck didn't understand why his friend was doing thsi. Why was Bryce pushing him? He thought Bryce had gotten over his whole James Bond routine.
"It was a draw last time. And you know I'm right, or else you wouldn't be getting angry," Bryce said, folding his arms across his chest. "Chuck, you really think this might be the only time you and Sarah have to work apart? You've been spoiled so far, but it's time for you to grow up and accept that yeah, this sucks, but this is life. Sarah can't sit around and mope-why should you?"
If he punched Bryce, Chuck would just be proving Bryce's point about his lack of maturity. And honestly, he didn't want to punch Bryce. He wasn't about violence, not really. He just hated this whole damn situation and wanted it to be over.
With a sigh, Chuck rubbed his hands over his face. Bryce was probably right. He had been acting like a kid who hadn't gotten his way. He'd barely done anything for the wedding and he'd been less of a partner and more of a dead weight. If Sarah could see him, she would be disappointed in him. And she would be mad.
He looked at Bryce. "Sorry."
Thanks to all that Connecticut breeding, Bryce knew how to accept an apology. He nodded and gave Chuck a grin. "Welcome back. Let's go get some dinner and we can figure out what to do next. I gotta say, the ETA's got some crazy things going on."
"You just want to go back to Spain," Chuck retorted, a bit weakly.
"Can you blame me? The food, the weather, the women . . ."
Bryce's grin widened at his joke. Chuck smiled back a little, trying to make an effort. Sarah was facing so many challenges, ones that she couldn't shirk. He needed to follow her example. No more wallowing, no more sulking. It was up to him to keep their lives going, so that when she returned they could focus on each other.
XXX
Once they were back in Los Angeles, Chuck made himself follow through on his new resolve. As he did so, he realized just how much he had let everything go over the last three months. He cleaned up the apartment, which had become messy from his "bachelor" lifestyle. Catching up on the missed bill payments, left unpaid while he was sulking, caused a hit to the finances. To get his workouts back on track, he called Devon and made arrangements for them to hit the gym together a few times a week. With Ellie, he sat down and made a wedding planning checklist.
"It's such a shame that Sarah can't be here for all this," Ellie had said. "But it's great that you're handling all this."
"I'm trying," he said, doing his best to smile at Ellie.
His sister looked sympathetic. "It's so mean of Sarah's boss, making her go on this long-term assignment when you've got a wedding to plan. But if you can't make it happen, then it can't happen."
Chuck smiled back at her. "Thanks, El."
Thanks to Bryce, they started working as part of one of the CIA's many task forces investigating the ETA. After years of focusing on Fulcrum, Chuck found that the work against ETA was very different. It was eye-opening, seeing other perspectives and other methods and how they could work against one terrorist group and not against another.
Within a week or so, Chuck felt like he was starting to recover. In fact, the only remaining challenge was something he'd never thought would be a problem: his friendship with Morgan.
It hadn't been long after Bryce had returned to his life that Chuck started noticing a change in Morgan. His best friend hadn't reacted well to finding out Chuck was friends with Bryce again. And while Chuck knew that Morgan had always been a bit insecure about Bryce, due to his good looks and money, he hadn't realized just how jealous Morgan could be.
Any attempts Chuck had made to include both of his friends in activities backfired. If Chuck said that Bryce would join them for video games, Morgan would cancel at the last minute, or not even agree to get together if Bryce would be there. After a while, Bryce just started refusing any offers to spend time together outside of work if Chuck mentioned Morgan.
It had gotten so bad that when they could have used Morgan's help, like going into that conference as Nerd Herders, Chuck hadn't been confident that his friend would help. Admittedly, Morgan still didn't know Chuck was a spy, but he could have come up with some kind of story to get Morgan on board-but as soon as Morgan found out that Bryce would be involved, Chuck knew that Morgan would change his mind.
And once Sarah left, Chuck had withdrawn from everyone. Ellie had mentioned that Morgan had even come over to her and Devon's apartment once, where they shared an "I miss Chuck" moment. Clearly, Chuck's friend was unhappy with their friendship, but for some reason Morgan wasn't willing to open up to Chuck. So it was time for Chuck to go to Morgan.
To start, he called up the Buy More and got Morgan's work schedule. It took bribing Lester with some special Call of Duty tricks that Chuck would normally be loathe to share, but it was worth it. Then, on Thursday night, when Morgan was done work at six, Chuck walked into the Buy More a few minutes before that hour.
Morgan was talking to a customer, so Chuck hung back and just watched him. In his gray suit and green sneakers, it was like seeing both sides of Morgan: the goofy kid he had grown up with, and the new adult that Chuck didn't know that well. But he wanted to change that.
When the customer walked away, Chuck walked up to Morgan. "Hey, Morgan."
"Oh," Morgan said, looking a bit surprised. "Hi, Chuck." He adjusted his suit jacket. "Need some electronics?"
"Actually, no. I wanted to know if you were up for some sizzling shrimp. My treat."
His best friend gave him a skeptical look. "Really?"
For some reason, seeing Morgan be so doubtful that Chuck wanted to spend time with him . . . well, clearly things were pretty bad between them. But Chuck wasn't going to let his friend drift away from him.
"Really," Chuck said. "Just you and me."
"Well . . . well, okay, then," Morgan said, a smile appearing on his face. "Let's go, then."
"You still riding the bike, or does being assistant manager come with a sweet ride?" Chuck asked, smiling back at Morgan.
"Sweet ride, of course-well, a Nerd Herder, but still, it's wheels." Morgan looked at Chuck. "You want me to drive?"
Ever since Chuck got his driver's license, he had been the designated driver. Mostly because he had been the one with a car, but also because Morgan didn't get his license until he was twenty-one. But Chuck wanted to show Morgan that even though things were changing, their friendship wasn't one of them.
"Sure, why not?" Chuck said.
The grin on Morgan's face was practically ear-to-ear. "Then this way, Master Charles."
Chuck laughed and followed Morgan to the small red-and-white Toyota, climbing into the passenger seat and folding his legs up. The drive to Bamboo Dragon was punctuated by idle chit-chat, mostly Chuck asking about Morgan's mom and learning more about how things were at the Buy More.
It wasn't until they were seated and had placed their orders that Chuck broached the real reason for tonight's dinner.
"Listen, Morgan," Chuck said, resting his arms on the table, "I wanted us to talk."
Morgan took a swig of grape soda, then set down the can. "Yeah . . . it's been a while."
"And that's my fault," Chuck said. "I haven't been a good friend."
"No . . . it's not just you," Morgan said, looking guilty. "It's mostly me. I've been the jerk."
He shook his head. "I was the one who kept trying to push Bryce on you."
"I should have tried, though," Morgan said, his voice sheepish. "But I . . ." He stopped and shrugged his shoulders, scratching his beard in a nervous gesture. "I thought you felt bad for me."
His forehead wrinkled as Chuck tried to figure out what Morgan meant. "Why would I feel bad for you?"
"'Cause here I am, an assistant manager of an electronics store, and I'm happy doing that. And then you have people like Sarah and Bryce, who are all ambitious and smart and everything, and . . . and you should spend all your time with them, not lame losers that you grew up with and who need you more than you need them."
Was that how Morgan really felt? Chuck was flabbergasted. "Wait, you thought that I could do better for friends than you, so you-what? Were trying to push me away?"
"When you say it like that, you make it sound like I planned it all out," Morgan said weakly. "And I didn't. I just-you wanted to hang out with Bryce! And I don't trust the guy. So I thought I'd just stay outta things until Bryce showed his true colors again and split town."
"Bryce has changed," Chuck said. "Just like you have."
Morgan looked doubtful. "Oh, yeah? How?"
Chuck thought for a moment, trying to remember Morgan's objections to Bryce over the years. "He's actually friends with Sarah. Not in a flirty, 'I'd try to hit that if her boyfriend wasn't around' way, but like, real friends. And these last few months, when I've been a mess, he's helped keep things together at work for me."
If anything, that last thing made Morgan look guilty. "Yeah . . . Ellie told me about how Sarah got sent out of town on some long-term gig and that you weren't taking it well." He paused and drank some more soda. "I'm sorry I wasn't around."
"It's okay, Morgan," Chuck said quietly. "I wasn't a very good friend myself. And for a lot longer, since I didn't understand why you didn't want to hang out with Bryce, too."
The bearded man looked at him. "If you were gonna replace me as your best friend, I guess I figured it'd be better if we just got it over with."
"Hey-there is no friend replacing going on here," Chuck said, his voice firm. "You hear me?"
"I didn't mind about Sarah," Morgan said, looking at Chuck with wide gray eyes. "She's great and all, and it's awesome that you guys are gonna get married. But she wants parts of you that I don't want-you know what I mean. And there's stuff that I can do that Sarah can't. But Bryce? He's like, a better-looking, smoother, more cool version of me. So why wouldn't you want to upgrade?"
"You've been my best friend since kindergarten, and nothing's going to change that," Chuck said, looking at Morgan. "Someday, we're going to be old men who sit around complaining about how movies used to be a lot better before they replaced the actors with computer-generated characters and pulling out the NES to teach our grandkids how to play Duck Hunt."
It was hard to tell with his beard, but Chuck was pretty sure that Morgan was blushing. "Yeah?" he asked.
"Uh-huh," Chuck said, nodding. "Who else could make me see how wrong the Star Wars prequels are? Who's the other half of my sandworm? You think I want to forget all that?"
Morgan shook his head, a small, delighted smile appearing on his face. "No?"
"No," Chuck said. "After all, there's a lot of stuff coming up that I need you for, buddy. Like my wedding."
"I still can't believe you didn't use the proposal plan," Morgan said. "We spent hours working on that."
"When we were ten," Chuck said, grinning. "And I didn't want to put it off while waiting to get the wild stallions and the supercars."
"Okay, good point, but still . . ." Morgan said, returning Chuck's grin.
As the waiter set down their sizzling shrimp, Chuck picked up his chopsticks. "Okay, so, the wedding. You will, of course, be my best man-"
"I don't want to be your best man."
Chuck blinked. "Excuse me? You don't want to be my best man?"
"I do! I mean, I have this idea, and if you like it, I wouldn't be able to be your best man," Morgan said, his words tumbling over themselves.
He set down his chopsticks. "What idea?"
"I've always wanted to marry somebody. Be the guy who does the ceremony, I mean. And since I'm not ever gonna have the chance to marry Mario and Princess Peach-"
"You thought about marrying Mario and Princess Peach?" Chuck asked, but Morgan barrelled on.
"If I could be the one to marry you and Sarah, it'd be even better than that. So can I? Can I be the 'I now pronounce you husband and wife' guy at your wedding?"
Morgan's face was so full of hope and enthusiasm, Chuck hated having to shoot him down. But did he have to? Who would marry them wasn't something he had talked about with Sarah, and while the church the wedding would take place at had a minister, it was someone who didn't know him or Sarah. But Morgan knew Chuck and was friends with Sarah. Who better to marry them?
So Chuck nodded slowly, a grin forming on his face. "Yeah, Morgan. You can marry us."
"Oh, this is gonna be awesome!" Morgan said, bouncing in his chair. "I'm gonna go home tonight and find the best online minister training ever." He beamed at Chuck. "You won't be sorry."
Chuck grinned back. "I know. You seriously thought Mario and Princess Peach would get married?"
"He goes through all those levels to save her, Chuck," Morgan said, his voice showing just how stupid he thought Chuck was being. "Of course he wanted to marry her. Besides how pretty she is and the fact that she's a princess."
"You made Super Mario Brothers into an 8-bit soap opera," Chuck said, popping a shrimp into his mouth with a grin. "I had no idea."
"I'll tell you all about it," Morgan said, his mouth full. And as his best friend regaled him with the epic romance of Mario and Princess Peach, Chuck couldn't help feeling grateful that he had such good friends right now.
And wishing that Sarah could be so lucky.
End, Chapter 3
