A/N1 Welcome back.

I'm moving fast now, in part because that is how I do things when I get involved in a story, but in part, because the way I write requires that the reader remember what went before: not just the characters, objects, and events, but particular turns of phrase, images, metaphors. Many of those are load-bearing for me across the story. And it is easy for them to slip from the mind after a few days. That said, I will not likely keep going at quite this pace for much longer. I will ease up. But I wanted to get into the thick of things before I de-accelerated at all.

Also, I have moved fast because I know that this is so far a dirge. It's a dirge because of how I understand the salient moment in canon. Sarah has, we might say, three ways to respond to The Kiss. (1) The canon way: deny, and refuse to acknowledge it, and keep the status quo; or, (2) the Cables to Aces (an earlier story of mine) way, where she takes a leap of faith and then sorts through the consequences of leaping; or, (3) the Sarah vs. Omaha way, where she runs and then sorts through the consequences of running. (3), our current option, is going to frontload the story with depressing stuff, especially if you believe canon-Sarah (as I do, obviously) that she fell in love with Chuck very early on (and believe, as I do, that Chuck fell for her with similar rapidity).

But, like that opening scene in Live and Let Die (a scene set, remember, in New Orleans), a dirge can turn into something else entirely, a dance party. All it takes is a trumpet blast. Keep the faith.

Thanks for the reviews. If you like the story and want it to continue moving ahead quickly, the best way to get that to happen is to leave a review. If I didn't want and need the feedback, I'd just write these stories and email them to a few Chuck friends.

Don't own Chuck.

Sarah vs. Omaha

CHAPTER FOUR

Home Away from Home

"All live human movement in space is experienced as a going away or a coming back…[I]n a profound sense, the task of [human beings] is to find 'the way home', and indeed this task is founded deep in the essence of [human beings]." -Otto Bollnow, "Lived-Space"

Sarah was a practiced liar. She had learned from her father about tells, and later learned more still from the CIA. She had learned to lie without compunction and so without blinking or licking her lips. Of course, there were still involuntary micro tells, but those were nearly invisible to the naked eye. She could lie as naturally as she could tell the truth. Or am I lying to myself about that? She needed a lie now. Desperately. Ellie was waiting, Devon too. Their expressions were getting more and more confused, and worse, more and more curious. That curiosity would metastasize into suspicion if Sarah did not speak. Soon.

Soon. Conversation had a musical score, a time signature. Crucial to being an effective liar was telling the lie on the beat, telling it in tune, saying the words to the conversational melody. Sarah was several beats behind. She could not hear the melody. She had forgotten the words. Her mouth was open but no sounds were being made.

"Sarah?"

Ellie's brows knitted. Devon took Sarah's coffee and croissant from the barista who had been standing there, grinning at the awkward moment, since she was no part of it.

"Sarah, are you ok?"

No. No. No. I am so not-ok. I told your brother to trust me and I deserted him. In the most painful possible way. I am here with Bryce Larkin. I cannot breathe. I cannot stop trembling.

I cannot do my job. I did not see you come in. I still have my phone. I cannot stand the thought of Bryce touching me, even if I know it means nothing, because I know what it would mean to your brother.

Sam refuses to go back to her cell.

"Sarah, is there a problem? You seem upset."

"No, Ellie, I am fine." Her voice, at last. She could speak. "I just never expected to see you two here. I'm...shocked." That, at least, was true. Had Chuck told her? Had she forgotten that Ellie and Devon were going to New Orleans? No. She had barely talked to Chuck since the kiss. She had not forgotten. She had not known.

"Well, Sarah, it was kinda a last-second thing," Devon responded. "El was complaining that we hadn't been on the bike in a while, if you know what I mean…" Sarah noticed that Ellie was not really listening to Devon. She was studying Sarah. Devon waited for one or both women to react but neither did. He cleared his throat, swallowed, became quiet.

After a long moment during which Sarah managed nothing but to shuffle her feet, Elle leaned in, putting her hand on Sarah's shoulder, solicitous. "Sarah, really, I don't mean to pry, but we're...friends. Why are you here?"

We are not friends. It doesn't matter how I feel about you or you about me, Ellie. Everything's changed. And even before we weren't really friends. I was lying to you all the time. Friends don't lie to each other.

"I'm here...for Wienerlicious. They needed someone to train employees at a new store here, and Scooter, you know, my manager, he'd been sending in glowing reports about my work, and they asked if I would come. I think they are considering me as a future manager." Sarah finished, gulping hard, the compunction thick in her throat. She blinked.

There I am. The liar. But I am a better...worse?...liar than that. What is wrong with me?

Devon broke in. "Ellie, I hate it, but we paid all that money for the exclusive swamp tour, and we'll miss it if we don't get going." He looked at the long line they had stepped out of when they saw Sarah. "We can grab coffee to-go, somewhere on the road to the tour site."

Ellie was clearly on the knife's edge. Sarah could see that her concerned curiosity was not satisfied, but she could also see that Ellie could think of no way gracefully to challenge what Sarah had said.

"Ok. Well, good luck with the training and the managing thing…" Ellie let the wish trail off, an indication that she was not satisfied. "We'll see you at home." Her look hardened just a bit.

Devon, oblivious to the subtext, laughed. "Can't wait to tell the Chuckster that they might make you the manager of weenies. I know he will be happy about that title." Devon laughed low, inviting them to react, to laugh too. They did, this time, a little. Ellie pulled Sarah to her in a slightly stiff hug. "See you when you get back." She and Devon left the shop. Sarah stood there with her coffee and her pastry. She dumped the pastry in the trash, staring at it as it sat on the top of the pile of paper and refuse. She sat back down. The only good thing about what had just happened was that Bryce had not walked in. But Sarah expected him soon. He knew where she was. He would want morning coffee. He would want to go over the plan for later.

ooOoo

Elle waited until they were outside the coffee shop and away from its window. Then she grabbed Devon's arm, forced him to stop.

"What is it, El?"

"Did...Did that all seem...off...to you? Did Sarah seem weird?" Ellie could not shake a feeling. She was now really suspicious.

Devon shrugged. "We did surprise her."

"I know. But...did she really seem ok?"

"I guess. I mean she's hard to read. I sometimes wonder what Chuck sees in her, to be honest. She's a beauty, no doubt, and smart. But kissing her must be like kissing the Sphinx. You know, hard and inscrutable."

Ellie shot him a look. "You've thought about that?" When he looked hurt, she relented. "No, I know what you mean. I've had the same thought. I've never entirely bought the two of them…" Ellie looked at her watch. "I know we're going to cut it close, but I have something I want to do."

"What, Ellie?"

Elle smiled sneakily. "You ever want to play spy, Devon? I used to play with Chuck when he was a boy, sometimes for hours if he'd just seen a Bond film. Let's do a little stakeout."

Ellie pulled Devon to a nearby bench. Ellie put on the straw hat she had in her bag for the swamp tour. They sat there for a few minutes. Devon began to take obvious glances at his watch. All at once, Ellie stiffened, her breath caught. Devon looked up. A handsome man in a pair of shoes like the ones Chuck wore was entering the coffee shop.

"Bryce-Fucking-Larkin!" Ellie breathed out the name as one word, the whole thing a curse. After waiting for the man to go into the shop, Ellie stood up decisively, sweeping her glance around her. She saw what she wanted. She walked over another man, standing on the sidewalk in a bit of shade. He was heavy and sweaty, lumbering along in sticky, scented New Orleans heat. She approached him, smiling her sweetest, most innocent smile.

"Sir, sir, I'm visiting here with my boyfriend and my friend. She's in the coffee shop with her fiance. He doesn't like to have his picture taken, and she wants a picture of them together. If I give you my phone, could you sneak near them and take a photo? I'll happily pay you for it. And she'll be so happy."

The man pushed back the purple and gold LSU cap on his head and regarded her. She smiled again, putting all she had into it. He grinned in response, then shot a quick, envious glance at Devon. "Sure, miss, I'll do it. Keep your money." His accent was syrupy with Louisiana sugarcane. "Just give me the phone. How will I know her?"

"She and her fiance both look like movie stars. Don't ask me why he's so camera shy. But it's important that the shot be natural, so you need to make sure neither one of them sees you. She'll know you're there, but she won't give it away. Don't draw their attention or make eye contact." The man nodded and lumbered into the shop. Ellie stood there, waiting anxiously, holding her breath. A minute or two later, the man came out. He was smiling and looking at Ellie's phone. He redirected the smile to her. "They look like they belong on tv." He handed Ellie the phone. She grabbed it a little too eagerly, then apologized. "Sorry, I'm just excited. She's going to be so happy."

The picture was a good one. Bryce was seated at the same table as Sarah and they were leaning in toward each other. Sarah had Bryce's hand in hers. Ellie felt her heart drop and her stomach roll. Sarah Walker was a liar, a huge liar. And, evidently, a pretty good one. Poor Chuck. Bryce Larkin! How could Sarah know Bryce Larkin? Bryce Larkin is dead, isn't he? Obviously not. It was strange. Strange that she was not as shocked by seeing a ghost as she should have been. But then, she'd never seen Bryce dead and had never shed any tears, really never given Bryce another thought. He'd been dead to her before he died and he was dead to her now that he proved still to be above ground.

Damn Bryce Larkin, undead or alive or whatever he was. It was like the Universe was dead-set on destroying her brother, and Larkin was its chosen...tool. She'd have to tell Chuck, have to show him the picture. Did Chuck know Bryce wasn't really dead? Why did she think he did? Everything with Chuck had been so weird lately. But this weird? She tasted bile.

Devon took one look at Ellie's face and blanched. "What is it, El? What's this all about. Who is Bryce-Fucking-Larkin? Larkin? What a minute, isn't he dead?"

Ellie grabbed Devon's arm. Then she loosened her grip and deliberately gentled her voice. None of this was Devon's fault. "C'mon, sweetie. Let's see if we can make that swamp tour still. I'll explain on the way. And I don't need coffee. Maye a Sprite or a Ginger Ale. I think I'm gonna be sick."

ooOoo

A little while after Ellie and Devon left, Bryce came into the coffee shop. Bryce sauntered to Sarah's table and sat down, but not before he'd flashed that smile at the barista. The barista had flushed and looked away, but then she had studied Bryce's rear as he walked away from her. The barista's eyes got a certain look in them. Bryce looked back at her over his shoulder as he sat down.

He grabbed her cup of coffee and took a drink. He pushed it toward her, but she pushed it back to him with a Take-It gesture.

"So, what's the exact plan for today, Bryce?"

Bryce sat there for a moment, slowly letting a smile take over his face, a glint enter his eye.

"Well, I was thinking we could go back to the room and...relax each other. You seem tense, Sarah."

Sarah was immediately angry. The morning had been a wreck. She was not sure whether she should tell Bryce what had happened or not. For now, she was going to keep it to herself. It was unlikely to affect anything today. She could make a final decision later. Chuck will know where I am. She made herself push the thought to the side, unable to think it without her whole body reacting to it.

"Bryce, listen. That...that's not going to happen on this mission. I don't feel that way about you anymore." Whatever way that was. Bryce's smile left his face far quicker than it took his face over. "Well, Sarah, it's likely going to be a long mission. I can wait." He eyed her for a moment. "Can I ask what's changed?"

Burbank. "You abandoned me, apparently went rogue, got killed, Bryce. What's changed? How hard is that to understand?" Abandoned. A theme in my life, passive and active. "I can't just get over those things, like this." She snapped her fingers. She reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it hard enough that he winced. "Don't push on me, Bryce. Just leave me...alone." Because that's the choice I have made. Not being with you. Being alone. And I now know that being with you was a lot like being alone. Two, not one.

Sarah glanced up in time to see a large man in an LSU cap, looking at his phone, start through the door of the shop. She had a funny feeling about him for a moment, then Bryce started talking again.

ooOoo

June woke up in her apartment. It was hideous green. Graham put her in the same apartment Walker had used. Walker's faint vanilla/citrusy scent still marked the place. Every breath pissed June off. She'd stop and buy something later, Lysol maybe, and spray the place down.

She showered and put the short black dress and high-heeled sandals back on. She wanted to make an impression.

She drove the rental jeep to Echo Park. She scanned the parking lot. Neither Ellie's car nor Devon's was there. She had expected them to be at work; that was their normal schedule. She wanted Chuck alone. His Nerd Herder was there. She smiled a contemptuous smile. What kind of loser had they saddled her with? Well, she'd quickly make sure he was the one wearing the saddle.

She strolled to the door of the Bartowski apartment. She leaned over, her lock picking tools already in her hand; she had grabbed them as she left the car. A second later she was inside. Domestic hell. She wandered through the apartment, looking at pictures. After a moment, she crept down the hall to Chuck's room. She opened the door silently. He was asleep. She walked in, taking in the Tron poster, the guitar. Exactly as expected. She noticed a picture on the bed beside Chuck. It was a picture of him and Walker. A spike of rage shot through June. She put one knee on the bed, then bounced herself over, on top of Chuck, straddling his middle. She smacked his face, hard. He looked at her, shocked, hurt, disoriented. She could smell liquor. She smacked him again.

"Wake up, Chuck. There's a new sheriff in town!" He struggled to get out from underneath her, but she was very strong and she had the advantage.

"Stop fighting. Just lie there. I'm June Thorne. Consider me a...gift from Langston Graham."

ooOoo

Casey was standing by his window, the shutters barely open. He could not face the Big Light. He and Bartowski had not gotten seriously drunk, but Casey had still woke up with a piece of dirty flannel glued to his tongue. He took a swallow of the very hot, very black coffee he had made for himself.

He had on only his boxers. He noticed a woman at Bartowski's door. He dropped his cup, the hot coffee splashing out, burning his feet. "Shit! Shit!" He knew her. June Thorne. His CIA cleaner buddy talked about her now and then. He called her Calamity June.

Casey needed pants. Calamity June. Shit!

A/N2 Oh, boy. Tune in next time for Chapter 5, "Strict Time". Missions. Refusal and rebellion. Chapter 5 will end the first arc of the story.