A/N: THANK YOU! HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY I'm so happy about all the reviews! I love you all! But also, please keep reading. This story is a lot of work.
Disclaimer: I don't own CHUCK or its characters.
Last time in Chuck Versus the Steampunk Chronicles: PARTY WITH THE RUIZ FAMILY! WOOOOO! FIESTA! Kay, just...read the chapter. I don't know what I'm doing. Ignore me.
She ducked so that her opponent's knuckles just barely grazed her temple, then lunged forward with a hard uppercut to the stomach.
Her fist caught air as Marta leapt back, and then the long staff in the shorter woman's other hand came swinging towards her face.
Sarah caught it and twisted it with one quick movement to disarm the air commodore, earning an impressed smirk for it.
They both stepped back, breathing hard.
"Mary, Mother of God. This feels good. It's been so long since I've faced a fighter like you," the older of the two said, catching her staff as Sarah tossed it to her.
"A worthy opponent, you mean," Sarah said with a smirk.
"Exactly."
"Was Bryce not a worthy opponent?"
"Passable," Marta answered, making Sarah laugh. "His fighting isn't what makes him such a good agent. It's his ability to lie and blend in. He is a spy, and the best spies are the ones who rarely need to fight. Or so he told me when we'd spar and he'd lose nearly every time."
"Sounds like it was just an excuse." Sarah blocked the other woman's sudden attack and they went right back into it, punching, blocking, kicking, dodging swings, dealing soft blows so as not to actually hurt one another.
Marta tossed Sarah a staff of her own and they dove in, clicking and clacking their staffs against one another.
"It makes sense, you being this—Ah!—skilled in combat!" Marta said between hits. "Considering who you are."
Still lost in the camaraderie of the sparring, Sarah grinned a bit manically. "Oh?" She blocked a swing away and kicked at the back of Marta's leg, sending her down on one knee. She hopped over a low swing of the staff. "And who am I, pray tell?"
"The Ice Queen."
The staff slapped Sarah in the side of the face and she landed hard on her back, looking up at the woman as the same staff was pointed down at her nose. "W-What?" she asked in an air-starved gasp.
"I thought so." Marta let out a breathy laugh. "No one knows what you look like, but it just makes sense. All of this makes so much sense. I just don't understand how Bryce Larkin of all people managed to get under your skin."
"I'm not the—"
"I've read about your exploits, secretly I've had almost a fascination with how you've escaped every time. Did you really do all of those things they say you did?"
Sarah had half a mind to keep denying it. And then she brushed Marta's staff away from her face and sat up, huffing in annoyance. "If it's that obvious who I am, I don't know how I made it this far without being caught."
"Oh, amiga, no. It's Bryce."
"He told you?"
"No. Well, yes. In a way. He told me he almost caught the Ice Queen, a few years ago. It stuck in my mind. He was so close to catching the most feared con woman, murderess," she said, shivering mockingly and rolling her eyes, "and he failed. I laughed at him, which he didn't appreciate. But I could always read him, maybe because we're in love, I don't know." She shrugged and reached down to help Sarah up.
She got into fighting position again, and Sarah followed suit, a little too gobsmacked to want to continue sparring, but not exactly wanting to show her cards.
"I put it all together this afternoon, before dinner."
"What?" Sarah asked, side-stepping an attempt at a stab with Marta's staff and smacking the woman on the shoulder with her own weapon.
The brunette staggered a bit and pushed her hair out of her face. "You didn't have to keep up that engaged routine he started. Chuck, I mean. But you did. It was you. You kept it going. Why, I thought to myself?" She made another move, but it was a feint, one Sarah caught onto with time enough to smack away the real blow. "Perhaps because you saw my jealousy in the cellar, when I realized Bryce sent you to protect Chuck. He made a point not to tell me you were a young and beautiful woman, with fire in your veins instead of blood." She let out a breathless chuckle as Sarah got a good hit in on her calf. "See?" She smirked but Sarah didn't give anything back, worried about where this was leading. "Why didn't he tell me that? You know as well as I do, and you saw I was jealous."
"I don't know what you're talking about." She knew exactly what Marta Ruiz was talking about.
"Then you tried to rid me of my assumption by going along with the lie Chuck started, about you two being engaged. I'm here to tell you it didn't work, Ice Queen."
Sarah stopped then, and she caught the staff that swung towards her solidly in her fist, not letting go when the other woman tried to pull it out of her grip, and she met Marta's eyes with a fiery stare. "Don't call me that. Please."
Marta eased back and shrugged. "All right, then I won't."
"And I don't know what you're trying to get at with this. Why would you be jealous of me?"
The flat look she got was nearly enough to make her blush. "I told you…I can read Bryce better than anyone can. There isn't much that man finds it within himself to be guilty about, bless the bastard, but I read guilt underneath everything. I read it clearly."
"Because he dragged his best friend into something dangerous?" Sarah asked.
"No. Because he…let himself be with you. Physically. Intimately."
A cold shiver went through her as she met the shorter woman's eyes. Her intention was to try to deny it at first, but she couldn't find her voice enough to follow through. So she just stared.
"He has a habit of misjudging people, especially the people he cares about. He always misjudges me, just as he seems to have misjudged Chuck. I'm sure you aren't the only woman he's been with since he and I exchanged vows." Sarah tensed. "Unofficial vows," Marta corrected, as she must've seen Sarah's reaction. "I don't know what he thinks I'd do if I knew, but the fact of the matter is, a woman has needs and I've also been with others. It doesn't change what we are to one another, Bryce and I. How badly we love each other."
"I-I didn't…" Sarah's voice faded, because what could she even say? For once, she was completely speechless. Her experience failed her. She didn't know how to respond to this.
"So you were intimate with him…"
"Yes, but it wasn't…like that. He…" She shut her eyes, and she thought that if this was even one year earlier, she might've struck this woman down. Something had happened to her in the last year, though. Things were so much more…complicated now. So she spoke to this woman. Why, she didn't know. But she spoke to her anyway. "I let my guard down, he used me and almost managed to arrest me, but I escaped in the last moment. Barely."
"What a bastard."
"Well, I wasn't entirely helpless in the matter."
Marta smirked again. "I understand. It's what drew me in at first, as well. He's a dashing carpetbagger with a heart of gold, good at hiding the carpetbagger and letting people see the heart of gold." She sniffed in amusement. "But I've known him and been with him long enough to know there's so much more underneath the roguish charm. More than anyone could even begin to understand."
"I never saw anything under the roguish charm. Or that face. I didn't care to. That wasn't what it was…about. It was stupid. A mistake."
Marta nodded slowly, a thoughtful look on her face. "So what is this, then?"
"What?"
"Chuck."
Sarah let out a long breath. "Blackmail."
She thought she heard something off to the side, in the doorway, but when she looked, there was nothing.
"It must be good blackmail to get you to do this. The Ice—Well, being who you are," the commodore corrected herself. "But that wasn't what I meant. I meant Chuck."
Sarah shook her head and handed the other woman her staff. "I'm going to take a bath. I'm not getting into this with you. No offense."
"You've traveled the world stealing hundreds of thousands from sultans and princes, duchesses, that run in you had with Francis Lulatin, one of the biggest crime bosses in Boston city—one of my favorite stories about your criminal exploits, the bastard is blind now thanks to you—and you truly can't handle that toymaker?"
"There's nothing to handle. He isn't a travel case. He's a human being. And he isn't—I said I'm not talking about it," Sarah rushed out, catching herself as she felt anger starting to rise in her.
"All right, then don't talk about it. But you should know that man thinks you can do no wrong." Sarah froze before she could get halfway to the doorway. "He trusts you with his life. So whether he meant to or not, Bryce might have sent the perfect person to play bodyguard for his best friend. That man is raw dough in your hands. I've seen the way he looks at y—"
"Stop," the con woman interrupted, turning on her heel, her features hard as she pinned the other woman with a glare.
"Whatever you tell him to do, he'll do it."
"That isn't true. Everyone misjudges him. Bryce, John, you. Everyone. Chuck's disobeyed me too many times to count. Whether he trusts me or not, his moral compass wins the day. He'll choose the right thing every time. He is…easily the most altruistic person I've ever met in my entire life, to a point where sometimes it drives me absolutely mad." She quickly buried the wistful smile she hadn't realized was there until it was too late, no doubt. "So no, he won't do whatever I tell him to do."
"And you admire him for it."
"Yes, of course I do," she said in the heat of the moment. "He's…" Her voice lost that heat then, and she felt weak suddenly, and powerful all at once. "He's extraordinary."
"Does he know that?"
Sarah didn't say anything and the observant, wily commodore tossed the staffs away, crossing her arms. She surprised her blonde companion by laughing, soft and quiet. "I'd bet ten thousand pesos on the fact that Bryce had no idea this would happen when he blackmailed you to protect Chuck for him while he gallivanted off with that target on his back."
"I'm taking a bath."
It wasn't until Sarah was behind a barricaded door, sitting in a small brass tub of hot water with her legs all tucked up against her chest that she allowed everything to wash over her. And for the first time in a long time, she let herself cry.
}o{
"This is too kind, Mrs. Ruiz."
The woman pushed some of her graying sandy blond hair back into the scarf she wore over her head and turned her green eyes up to meet Sarah's blue ones. "I made the journey from here back to my home in Nevada at least once every other year when Guillermo and I were first married. I loved visiting his family here. They would give us bags of food to take home, delicious food." She finished wrapping a large brick of cornbread in a cloth. "It saved us money and time."
"Well, thank you."
"I hope you don't mind my giving some advice, as well," she said, leaning a bit closer and lowering her voice. Sarah shook her head. "I slipped a few recipes in for you, dear. You're going to be a married woman soon, and my husband loves my corn cake. I saw the way your Chuck nearly ate an entire cake to himself. Make him that cake and you'll have a happy husband for the rest of your life."
Sarah smiled as best she could under the circumstances. "I'll certainly take your advice, Mrs. Ruiz."
The woman gave her a long look then, bracing her hands on the wood block in front of her. "He'll be all right. I can see you're worried. But he'll be all right. I see him. And a man with a good, strong heart is always all right in the end."
She slumped a little. "I can see from where your daughter gets her observational skills. Am I that transparent?"
"You're a woman in love."
She put a hand on the young woman's shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. And for a moment, the con woman wondered if she would be receiving the same kindness from Jane Ruiz if she knew who she was, and what she'd done. Perhaps she'd keep her distance, the way Marta had been doing, just enough for Sarah to notice.
Marta had said she read about the Ice Queen's exploits, that she was even fascinated by the enigmatic con artist, and yet she had been cautious and careful around her. Or perhaps that was just jealousy Sarah was seeing. As emotionally empty as her encounter with Bryce was three and a half years ago, that didn't change that it had happened. Even if Marta understood, even if she'd done the same thing with other men, there had to be some jealousy there.
It made her feel a bit better to assume it was jealousy and not fear or suspicion.
Sarah would never harm this family, especially not after the last few days.
"Bryce is watching out for him," Mrs. Ruiz said, interrupting her thoughts. "And Bryce is a good man. He's very capable."
Over the past few days, Sarah'd discovered that the Ruiz family had a certain amount of affection for the IEL agent. Whether that was built up over years of meeting him, or if it was from the week and a half he'd spent under their care, hidden in their home, she didn't know. But she knew Bryce was capable of being very charming. She'd been charmed in her own way, hadn't she? And if Bryce truly did love Marta the way it seemed he must if he'd entrusted her with this much information, why wouldn't her family also like him?
"Did Bryce tell you what we're hiding from?" Sarah asked then. "What he's running from?"
"No. I don't ask. I know he is an agent, a spy for the government. That's all I need to know. Whatever he is doing is keeping my home country safe." She nodded emphatically. "That's all I want to know."
She was smart, then. Good.
"He didn't say where he was going?"
Mrs. Ruiz chuckled. "Still trying to follow him, are you? What do you have to gain from catching up to him? And what does Chuck have to gain? I saw the fear in that boy. What he's mixed up in is dangerous, and if you follow, you'll run right into it yourselves."
Sarah gave the woman a long look. She certainly was observant. "Chuck needs answers. And as much as I want him to be safe, I think he deserves to know why he's in this mess to begin with," she explained, being as vague as possible.
Mrs. Ruiz had been there in the room when Marta had told her family about their new house guests, how they were friends of Bryce, the ones he had said he was trying to protect. Marta had been vague as well, and it seemed they all had enough experience with her career as an air commodore and the secrecy that had gone hand in hand with it that they accepted it and trusted Marta and Bryce, and by extension, their most recent guests.
"I'm afraid I cannot help you. He never told any of us where he went." She huffed. "I overheard my Marta talking to him." Then she made a face. "I wasn't eavesdropping, that isn't something I do. But…well, she wanted so badly to go with him. She practically begged him. I think she…misses what she did for the Air Force, misses having people to order about," she chuckled. "But mostly, after her injuries, not being able to return to her post, having to retire…Well, being here, tending the home, looking out for the rest of us, I am sure it gets tiresome. And I know she's worried about that boy."
"So he didn't tell her?" Sarah pushed.
"No. He refused. She became angry, stormed out of the room. But he was right. Not only would it be dangerous for her, it would be dangerous for the rest of our family. He did the right thing."
Sarah nodded, sighing inwardly.
"He is a stubborn, pigheaded idiot."
Both women in the kitchen spun to see that Marta had entered the room without them hearing her. She closed the distance, standing at the other end of the butcher block and leaning on it much like her mother had a few moments earlier. And with them standing so close to one another, Sarah finally saw the resemblance. Marta's skin was much darker than her mother's, her eyes brown where her mother's were green, but their facial structure was the same, and they carried themselves the same way—upright, confident, chin held high.
"Well, wherever he was going, his path is a dangerous one, I'm sure." Sarah fiddled with the knot Jane had tied to keep the food wrapped up tight. "It's safer traveled alone."
"That is what people like Bryce—and you, apparently—always say." Marta shook her head. "Everything needs to be alone. Trust no one. Travel with no one. That isn't the way people are supposed to live. Always alone."
"Marta," her mother said, her voice low in warning.
"I know, Mama. He just drives me crazy." Then her dark eyes lifted to Sarah's and she lost some of the bite, her features easing slightly. "I am sorry. I do not mean to lump you in with him. You have chosen to be with Chuck, after all. That is the opposite of alone."
Sarah was sure Mrs. Ruiz missed the meaningful look Marta gave her, but she saw it quite clearly, and it made her chest throb like it had the other night in the bathtub.
"He told me just how dangerous it is. I saw what was done to him, his…wounds. When I found him." He swallowed thickly, accepting her mother's comforting hand on her shoulder. "There are more dangers than you think. A darkness you wouldn't believe."
Sarah moved in closer. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, that again." Mrs. Ruiz shook her head. "Marta, we talked about this."
The con woman kept her gaze on the younger woman as she shook her head. "Mama, he meant what he said." She met Sarah's gaze again. "Bryce told us there's something happening out there. Something he doesn't understand. He came across it in Europe and in America, as well. On the East Coast." She shifted and leaned in with her face closer to Sarah's. "He said he doesn't understand it yet, but there is some sort of force brewing, unrest mixed with some kind of religious fervor, or…oh, what's the word he used? Fanaticism."
Sarah felt a chill come over her. "A force? Unrest?"
"He called it pure evil, this movement. He said it's been happening underground, saw it with his own two eyes, even saw the creature leading it."
"Creature?" Sarah asked, doubt creeping into her features.
"A devil."
"Oh!" Her mother shook her head and gestured to the cross hung on the wall nearby, but her daughter ignored her.
"This leader uses the word of our merciful God as a vengeful tool, a weapon, to manipulate people who are suffering." Marta frowned deeply. "There is a lot of unrest within the people, here as well. Disillusionment, you could say." She shook her head acutely. "I can only imagine how easy it would be for a shapeshifting devil to create a movement like this, using the people's desperation for salvation to create an army of revenge-seekers."
"Marta, he was feverish." Mrs. Ruiz turned to Sarah. "When she brought him here, he was shaking, hungry, and he had a bad fever. People imagine strange things when they're fevered."
"Mama, that isn't Bryce. He didn't have a fever when he told me those things."
Her mother brushed her off with a hand. "It was a dream," she said, bustling out of the kitchen altogether.
When they were alone, Sarah put a hand on Marta's arm to catch her attention again. "He was there, then. At one of those underground…"
"Yes, a meeting. He told me he went to one. He said the people were mesmerized, committed. He used the word 'brainwash'. I'm afraid those people are after him, too, for the same reason the government is. They are monsters driven by brokenness and a violent fear of a wrathful God this devilish leader put into their heads. But he has a nefarious purpose, no doubt about it. With long-lasting consequences if he succeeds."
Sarah shivered, in spite of the warmth from the fire nearby. "You believed him, then? It wasn't his fever like your mother thinks?"
Marta shook her head adamantly. "Sarah, Bryce is not prone to whimsy. I love him, but he has almost no imagination. Something you can probably attest to, if you know what I mean."
"I'm sure I don't," Sarah said quickly, almost ashamed at herself for the heat rising to her cheeks. She didn't consider herself particularly prudish, but Marta didn't seem to feel the need to hold back and it was rather startling sometimes.
"My point is that he doesn't believe in ghost stories. He doesn't believe in the supernatural. His head has never gotten caught in the clouds. I know him. I know how he operates. What Bryce told me is real. He was very serious when he shared it all with me, and—and I'm not sure he's ever let me see his fear like that before. In fact, I'm sure he hasn't. There's something happening out there. Maybe you should stop trying to find him if you care for that toymaker's safety the way I know you do."
Sarah stared the woman in the face, not saying anything.
"Señorita…"
Both women turned to find Guillermo Ruiz in the doorway. Sarah smiled at the man. "Yes, Señor Ruiz?"
"Your compadres are ready to go."
"Oh, thank you. I'll be along in a moment."
He nodded with a kindly tip of his hat, then swept out of the room again, leaving the two women alone.
"My father and my brother will make sure no one bothers you on the way to the train station. We think it best you not take the train leaving Monterrey proper, in case anyone is there, watching." She pushed her braid behind her shoulder. "I have not forgotten what your friend John said about there perhaps being an informant here who told the government I harbored a fugitive agent."
"That's a good idea. Thank you, Marta."
She shrugged. "I must be careful who I trust. It is a lesson we keep having to learn, it seems."
"Not with us," Sarah said, and she stuck her hand out for Marta.
Instead of taking it, the other woman wrapped her arms around her in a tight hug. Sarah was startled at the shorter woman's gesture, but then she returned it eventually. Marta spoke close to her ear. "Contrary to what you might think you saw, I do not harbor any ill-will towards you. For what happened between you and Bryce." She pulled back. "I cannot help being human. Jealousy is hard to hide. Especially for me…my father's blood." Sarah smiled and nodded. "You need to know, however, that Chuck heard what we were talking about."
Sarah froze. "I'm sorry, he what?"
"When we were sparring and I weaseled the truth out of you about being with Bryce intimately, I thought I saw something, heard something…And then when I went into the kitchen, Juanita told me Tía sent Chuck to tell us supper was ready." Sarah's eyes slipped shut as a sick coldness went through her. "Chuck never told us supper was ready." Sarah shook her head, eyes still shut. "And then I noticed he didn't eat very much at dinner, wasn't as talkative. And though I don't know him well, it didn't take long for me to figure out that he certainly likes to talk."
When Marta's grip tightened on her biceps, she opened her eyes again and gave the shorter woman a despairing look. "I shouldn't have ever said anything. This is what happens when I open up—"
"Really?" Marta interrupted, chuckling a bit. "That's what you took from this? That you get into trouble when you open up? I think the true lesson in this is that you need to open up sooner." She shrugged. "But maybe that's just me."
"You must not know much about men if you think he wouldn't have stopped trusting me the moment he found out about that."
Marta shrugged, mercifully not offended by Sarah's rather harsh words. "He's still here now, even though he knows. He didn't go anywhere." She huffed and smirked, shaking her head at the younger woman. "You and Bryce are similar in some ways. I think if you open yourself to that man, your inventor, Chuck…you'll find things are much easier. Stop fighting it." She furrowed her brow and sniffed. "With you and Bryce both, everything has to be closed up so tight, always suffering, always, always suffering."
"You don't know. I don't mean to offend, Marta, but you just don't know. It just wouldn't be smart to give him…any more than I already have."
"It's your life. It's your decision. But the less you tell him, the more he figures out in some other way, and I think you'll find that's a lot worse."
"We shall see," was all Sarah was capable of, Marta's words churning in her head, her heart.
They hugged again and walked out to join the others.
Sarah watched Chuck as they loaded the things the Ruiz family had given them and their own bags into the back of Guillermo Ruiz's wagon. He was quieter than usual, but still warm as he said his farewells in broken Spanish to the kids. Something inside of her broke when he fished a little wooden toy dog fixed with wheels and a little string out of his bag, incorrectly telling the kids he'd made them a burro instead of a perro, making them giggle in delight at his expense.
But he fell into a silence again as they bumped along the road towards the out of town station, and he stayed that way for the full hour and a half ride.
}o{
He felt her eventually join him in the train car he'd chosen after the short stop in Sonora. He hadn't needed to see her, or hear her. He just knew she was there. And he thought maybe he could feel her gaze fastened on the back of his head.
It had been over forty hours since their train had pulled away from the station outside of Monterrey, forty hours since they'd left Marta Ruiz and her large, welcoming, close-knit family. And in those forty hours, he hadn't felt the need to say a single word to either of his companions, in spite of knowing they were both keeping an eye on him.
Chuck didn't know if it was Casey's inherent dislike of conversation, or if the bounty hunter sensed his preference to be alone, but the man had stayed in an entirely different car altogether.
Sarah had as well. He'd lost track of her at a certain point, all the while knowing she hadn't lost track of him, wherever she was. She was his bodyguard, after all. His protector. Had she sensed he wanted to be alone as well, he wondered?
She had a way of picking up on his cues that no one in his life ever had, not even Ellie.
Either way, it didn't matter. She still stayed where he couldn't see her for forty hours.
And in spite of the fact that he hadn't seen her through so much of their travel time, she'd stayed in his mind, incessantly nestled there, haunting him. Worse than that, Bryce was there, too. And he hated himself for allowing it all to terrorize him so much.
His spirits had been impossibly high in the Ruiz homestead, seeing the con woman—the Ice Queen the papers called her—willingly crawl down onto the floor and play with dolls, her face lit by the overcast sky as she let Lala show her how to do a cultural dance with a skirt Marta had let her borrow, making tracks in the mud out in the courtyard. He'd felt so much warmth there. It had felt like a real family. He'd felt real happiness.
There were no secrets there, not between Marta and her siblings, or her parents. Even the extended family living on the homestead knew enough about Bryce. It was the kind of trust Chuck had always thought families shared—real families. It was what he used to have with Ellie, and Devon once his sister introduced him to their small family.
And it hurt him immensely that in the midst of such an open, honest family, he'd lied over and over and over again. He'd smiled through the lies. Now that he knew why he had to do that, it made him feel that much heavier.
That high he'd settled into at the Ruiz homestead had received quite the blow on the last night, however. When Marta's aunt had asked Marta's teenaged brother Beto to tell the "hijas" to stop their fighting and come in for dinner, the toymaker had happily offered to do so in his stead.
And so…
He'd snuck as quietly as possible, feeling a smidgeon of shame as he'd done it. But he had seen first hand the type of hand to hand combat Sarah Walker was capable of. If the ex-Commodore of the Royal Air Force Marta Ruiz had skills that were anywhere close to the con woman's, he simply had to see this sparring for himself.
But curiosity killed the cat.
And as he'd sidled up against the doorway, he'd caught conversation he hadn't wanted to catch, he hadn't expected to catch, he wished so badly that he didn't catch.
What good did it do anyone that he knew this now?
He took his bowler cap off of his head and pushed his hands through his hair, smoothing it down as best he could. Letting out a huff, he tossed the hat on the wooden bench next where he sat instead of putting it back on his head.
He hadn't even slept, fearing that if he did, harsh images would assail him.
Chuck had the distinct memory of the time Bryce snuck a girl into the abandoned shop they'd broken into and commandeered one summer when they were still teenagers. He hadn't been prepared to walk in on his best friend and the girl, thinking Bryce had just gone off from the orphanage to get away from the mistresses, like always. Bryce had been a sport about it, in spite of Chuck's intrusion scaring the red-faced girl off.
That memory had gotten stuck in his brain all night as the dark tree line of Mexico's forests whizzed past his window, and he'd found himself bitter about it suddenly. Who was that red-faced girl? How did Bryce always manage to charm damn well everyone? What was it about him? He knew Bryce Larkin had all the good looks any fellow might need to attract women; he always had. He knew exactly what to say when he'd asked girls to dance at the dance halls they'd gone to together every so often before they'd pursued different paths.
It was like a moth to a lantern, perhaps. Women liked men who presented a bit of danger, intrigue…Or perhaps they liked the challenge?
He'd then spent an entire hour silently chastising himself for that foolishness.
If Ellie had taught him anything, she'd taught him not to paint an entire group of people with the same brushstroke. And if she knew what he'd thought about all of womankind in the heat of bitter envy, she would knock his block off for it.
Bryce didn't have a strange supernatural power over women. There was nothing otherworldly about it.
That was just an excuse any other man might come up with to justify why women like Marta Ruiz and…and Sarah Walker…were drawn to Bryce Larkin and not to them.
Chuck wouldn't use an excuse.
It was easier to just accept it, to come to terms with it, and to put it behind him.
It happened. Marta had somehow squeezed it out of her sparring partner. And he'd heard Sarah's voice finally confirm it was true.
And just thinking about it now felt like someone was kicking him in the chest again.
He hung his head and took a deep, calming breath.
Of course this was the moment he saw her stop next to him, the sound of her boots and the soft swish of her skirts against the wood floors made him ache. Not now, he silently begged. Please.
"Might I sit down, Chuck?" she asked, her voice quiet and tentative.
He picked up his hat, moving it onto his lap, and, with a care that felt purposeful, slowly, gracefully, sat beside him. She was silent for a while, and he refused to break that silence. What could he say? How could he speak to her when he knew the jealousy and bitterness he didn't deserve to feel would show itself in his voice, in his eyes?
And this wasn't the conversation he wanted to have. Ever. With anyone.
"You heard us," she said then.
Chuck's eyes fell shut and he dropped his chin to his chest.
How did she know? He hadn't told anyone. He hadn't said anything. He'd purposefully stayed by himself for the past forty hours until he could force himself to move past the revelation he shouldn't have been privy to in the first place.
This wasn't the conversation he wanted to have.
"If you're trying to figure out how to pretend you don't know what I'm talking about, please don't. Th-There are some things I need to say to you."
Right now? He wanted to ask. Can we do this later? Some other day? Never?
He felt as though his thoughts were most likely broadcasted on his face, because she sighed quietly and continued. "You weren't supposed to be there. You weren't supposed to hear that."
"Sarah, it's all right. Really. You don't have to—"
"Chuck." She cut across him with enough power, even if it was without shortness or heat, that he turned his head to look at her, eyes a little wide. "I do have to. This is all so…complicated. And I don't know…" She huffed. "It was such a massive mistake."
An ache assailed him in the worst way and he had to turn to look back out at the passing scenery for fear she'd see something he didn't want her to see. He wasn't entitled to feel any of these things, damn it.
He didn't want to hear any details. He didn't want the wound to get any deeper. He didn't want the visuals hammered into his head over and over like this. He already felt the pain acutely enough.
"Bryce was—He was a mistake."
"Sarah, please. You really don't have to do this." I don't want you to do this. He shook his head, almost vehement in his desperation. But she wasn't looking at him, instead staring straight ahead at the empty bench in front of her. "You don't owe me any explanation."
She seemed to chance a quick glance at him then, her blue eyes so beautiful, even as they were filled with tumult and…genuine regret. Was that regret about Bryce? Or was it that she was in this position explaining herself to him right now?
"Perhaps I don't. But for some reason, I-I have to." She huffed again, this time seeming frustrated, and he saw her fists clench in the skirt she wore. "I know you probably never want to talk to me again, Chuck. That you must feel…I don't know." She slumped forward a bit. "I don't know how you feel and I'm not going to do you the disservice of thinking I do. But in-in case you feel…" She changed tack. "I need to explain, that's all."
"I don't deserve an explanation, Sarah. I don't…I don't own you."
"No, you don't," she said slowly, carefully. "And never for a moment have you made me feel like you think you do. Perhaps that's why I think you, of all people, deserve to know what happened. I-I think I should have told you a long time ago."
"You never had to tell me anything. In fact, you don't have to tell me now." Please, don't.
She met his gaze for a long time, and then she finally broke it, tucking hair behind her ear, the rebozo she'd worn when they first left Monterrey now limp about her shoulders. And he hated how blatantly apparent her unrivaled beauty was in that exact moment, how the sunlight streamed in through the trees they flew past and made her golden hair almost seem to shimmer.
"I've left you alone for almost two days straight, Chuck, because I thought…I thought you probably wouldn't want to talk to me. I know you don't want to talk to me now. I know you're most likely angry with me. I wish now that I had told you about…what happened between Bryce and-and myself. It was years ago that it happened and it felt like such a dangerous thing to tell you in the beginning. The way we were…erm…essentially courting, before you knew about who I am, why I showed up in your life. I felt like it would…" She sighed and shook her head. "…hurt you. And if I hurt your feelings worse than I already had, it would be really hard for me to build trust between us."
As much as he was hurting now, as much as he could've said "And telling me now doesn't hurt?", he didn't do that. It would only make everything hurt more, and he wasn't here to make her feel even worse. And he wondered if he'd ever find it within himself to purposefully do something to hurt Sarah Walker no matter what she did, no matter how bad he felt because of it. He had a feeling he never would.
"I understand," he breathed, only just louder than a whisper. "I do. You had a job to do." There was no bitterness in his voice. He managed to keep that out. He wasn't angry with her, and he suddenly realized he had yet to verbalize that. "I'm not angry with you, Sarah. I have no right to be…anything…about this." Then he bit his lip, and as much as a voice inside him kept repeating don't don't don't don't don't, he added, "You have an idea at least of my feelings…"
His throat clenched and he looked away, staring hard at the hat in his lap. He swallowed loudly. "I'm not good at hiding my emotions. So I know you-you must see it. B-But that doesn't grant me any rights over you, or what you do, especially not something that happened before…" His voice trailed off and he rolled his eyes at himself, looking out of his window again.
He felt the bitter sting of tears and he blinked quickly to keep them at bay.
This just hurt so terribly. It was a pain in his chest that traveled all the way down his arm and made his fingers tingle. It was a terrible sensation. He hated it.
"No…I-I do know. Er…about…you know." She stopped. Then started again. "I was young and foolish. I was still susceptible to…immaturity and weakness. And I-I just couldn't shake him, Bryce I mean. Always on my heels. And the chase became…fun. The danger of it, the-the risk. It took on some sort of…warped…different feel to it. It was something I'd never do now, now that I'm older and know so much better than I did then. An IEL agent…" She scoffed at herself and Chuck felt safe enough to look at her. She was ashamed, he could see it on her face. But he knew even if she wasn't ashamed, he couldn't blame her for it. "It was easily the most idiotic thing I've ever done in my life."
He just sat there, feeling as though the air around him was fraught with tension. It was fraught with tension.
He hated this. He hated this. He hated this. He hated everything.
"In—" She halted and nibbled on her lip. It was something she didn't want to say. He didn't want her to say it, even if it might make her feel better. "In that place where we…found one another…it felt separate enough from the world. There was this feeling I had like a fog was surrounding us, keeping me…safe, I suppose. It was a complete and total lie I told myself. I wasn't safe. Not in that place, and not with him. Maybe—No." She shook her head, a corner of her mouth lifting in a bitter smirk. "No, I'm not going to blame Bryce and say he manipulated me. I was stupid and young, but I knew the risk and I took it. We both felt…whatever that physical—"
Sarah stopped again and looked down at her lap, her cheeks red.
Chuck wanted to bash his head through the window and just dive out of the train altogether, let whatever creatures that came through feast on the remnants of his corpse. He welcomed the gruesomeness of the image—anything to get that other image out of his head forever. Please God.
"That false sense of security, the haze of…how it made me…feel…" She cleared her throat and he hated that he couldn't even be glad she was so uncomfortable in light of his own discomfort. He just despised the fact that they were both this uncomfortable. "I opened my damned mouth, Chuck. And I told him about my—something important. Something very important."
Chuck hadn't put things together yet, instead trying hard to stop thinking about Sarah and Bryce together, trying even harder to think about how he compared to Bryce in the mind of a woman like this one. How he must absolutely pale in comparison. He felt so immature and selfish but the thought wouldn't leave him alone.
And a voice in his head was insisting that Sarah still had feelings for Bryce. She still had feelings for him. She and Marta must have sat out on the porch with Mrs. Ruiz's chile hot cocoa after that, reminiscing about the handsome agent, exchanging stories… Did Bryce get under Sarah's skin the way she'd gotten under his own? How often did she think about him? Was the anger she felt towards him fueled by a desire to see him again? That whole love/hate passion that he enjoyed reading about in the serials suddenly only made him feel anger and disappointment…
"It was something I never should have told him."
"You trusted him," he said, careful not to say it through a jaw clenched with unfair jealousy.
"No I didn't. I've never trusted Bryce Larkin and I never will. There was no trust there and that's why it's so damned infuriating that I still let him have that information. He's an agent, whether we shared a bed or not. And he's very intelligent, very capable…clever." She shook her head, a far-off look in her mesmerizing eyes. "Of course he congratulated himself on getting that out of me, and he stored it away for future use."
Chuck shifted his body to face her better then, feeling things fall into place inside of his own mind.
"He used that to blackmail you," Chuck said then, some things starting to click. She raised her eyebrows and nodded slowly. "He came back years later and used whatever it was you told him to make you do what he wanted you to do…in this case, to protect me."
Sarah nodded, visibly upset with herself. And that made him even more angry, suddenly. The anger pushed his jealousy to the side as he sat back against the hard wood of his seat and clenched his jaw, his fists tightening in his lap.
"That's despicable," he said quietly. He felt her gaze on him but he continued to stare straight forward. "I don't understand how anyone could do that. To take advantage of…" He didn't feel like it was altogether appropriate to say these things to her. In fact, he knew it wasn't appropriate.
"It's his job. It's what he does as a government agent, a spy," she said. "He gets information out of criminals, information that will help capture them, convict them. I should have been more guarded."
"You should have?" he asked, turning his body towards her and leaning in closer. "No, there is no 'You should have', Sarah. He should have had the decency to respect whatever was said during that—" He cleared his throat. "—that time…you…" He didn't want to finish that. "It was said in confidence."
"It wasn't said in confidence," she said quietly. "I was a fool."
"But why—why should the fact that he's a spy also mean he has to be a deplorable human being. Is that part of their swearing in ceremony, or whatever it is they do for IEL agents?" he asked, shrugging a bit violently. He was losing his control, allowing all of his emotions to burst out of the deep anger pit Sarah's revelation had opened. And Bryce was going to get the brunt of it. "Turn into an awful person who does awful things to other people when they've let their guard down. Blackmail is fine, as well, right? Feel free to use people, blackmail people."
"Chuck, I'm a thief, a manipulator, a criminal," she said, and she was so admirably decent and honest in the way she was responding that he felt something in him break, a trigger go off.
"You are more than that," he snapped. "You're more than any of those things. You're a person, a woman. You're a living, breathing human being. It isn't right for him to be taking advantage of you like this. To use something you obviously didn't mean for him to know against you, and-and put you in a situation that could result in your being arrested or killed. I'm livid…furious, even."
She was silent for a long moment, and then she finally said, "I can tell."
"I don't care that he did it to protect me. That doesn't matter. What he's doing to you is incredibly wrong. It's terrible. I don't know why you aren't more angry right now, why you didn't beat him half to death."
"You don't think I'm angry?" she asked, pulling her chin back to look up at him through her eyelashes.
He'd said the wrong thing and he hurried to correct it.
"Sorry, I-I don't mean that you're—Of course you're angry, Sarah."
"I've spent months coming to terms with the fact that something I said in—in the heat of the moment all those years ago has been the catalyst for every single dangerous situation I've been in since I first came to Los Angeles to find you. Every hit I take, every bullet I have to dodge, every mentally, emotionally, physically taxing moment I've experienced in the last couple of months is all due to that one second of stupidity and immaturity. It makes me feel so angry sometimes that I want to kick a hole in the nearest wall. But the—the anger about that, about Bryce and how he roped me into this mess, the blackmail…all of it…It's started to dull a bit."
"Has it?" Chuck asked. "Why? …Time?"
"No," she huffed quietly, a small smile on her lips. "It isn't just that time has passed. I tend to hold onto grudges no matter how much time passes." He smirked at that, because it wasn't surprising to him at all. "It's that anger about something else has taken priority."
"Something else? What?"
"You." She shrugged. He didn't quite know how to respond, so he just waited, rubbing his hands up and down his thighs slowly. "I'm much more furious at Bryce for what he did to you, Chuck. Taking you away from your life, the safety and security of running your shop and living with your sister and brother-in-law."
"Tech-Technically, I live in the, er, the floor above my sister and brother-in-law. Not really with them, per se." She gave him a look, not without at least a little amusement in it, and he cleared his throat. "That's beside the point, though. Continue," he rushed out, blushing.
"He's ruined your life, Chuck. He put you in so much danger that you never needed to be in. What he's done has changed…everything for you. I think that's a far greater sin than what he did to me."
"Can we agree to disagree on that?" he asked after mulling over what she said for a few moments. In spite of everything, her words put a certain warmth in his chest. Because more than anything, what she'd just said confirmed that she at least cared a bit about his well-being, past just the fact that she was being blackmailed to protect him.
She was silent, nibbling on the inside of her cheek, and then she smiled and nodded. Until finally… "Thank you, Chuck."
"For what?" he asked, genuinely confused.
"You are being…very you about all of this. And I don't entirely believe I deserve it."
"Everyone deserves common decency. Even Bryce Larkin, though I won't be holding back the next time I see him. I might go so far as to hit him. For your honor, of course," he teased, and she smiled, even while she gave him a dubious look. "Fine. Maybe I won't hit him, but I will grab his neck tie and give it a violent twist like this!" He reached out, grabbed at the air, and twisted his fist with a quick yank, wrinkling his nose. "Ha ha!"
Sarah giggled and shook her head. "That'll show 'im."
He grinned and chuckled, nodding and sitting back against the seat again.
"Sarah," he continued, once he'd sobered significantly, his thoughts in a jumble again, the green-eyed monster nipping at his chest, "I don't want you to think that just because I'm being outwardly decent about your discussion with Marta and the, um, revelation…it-it doesn't mean that I'm not jealous. Because I am. I don't pretend to claim I have any right to be, but I still am. Bryce doesn't—No, I won't say that." He shook his head vehemently, feeling heat start to rise from his collar. "What I will say is that I am jealous. And there's an ache in my-in my chest. Because—Well, you know why, I'm sure. Rather, I already touched on my inability to hide my feelings earlier. I'm simply reiterating so that you don't think I'm some perfectly reasonable fellow. That I'm better than I am. I'm not. I'm flesh and blood just like anybody else, I'm capable of jealousy and being unreasonable with my emotions, and wanting—wanting things I can't have. So there that is," he finished practically with a gasp, turning to look out of his window.
He was afraid to look at Sarah, afraid his rambling was scaring her away, afraid she'd go back to another car and disappear for the rest of the trip to the station where they'd be getting off, spending the night at an inn, and switching trains the next morning.
"You're still angry, though," she said quietly. "I can tell."
"Of course I am," Chuck replied, still looking out of his window. "I'm angry I didn't know about…that part of your interaction with Bryce. I feel especially…well, rather like a sap, you see. I feel like a sap." He scratched behind his ear, embarrassed, wishing he wasn't so damn transparent, wishing he'd just shut his mouth for once. But he'd already gone this far… "But I'm not angry with you, Sarah. I understand not wanting to tell me. Not just because it isn't any of my business, but I'm sure you didn't trust how I'd take that…information."
He heard her chuckle quietly and he looked at her with a furrowed brow. She raised her eyebrows and shook her head. "I know you're trying to convince me that you're not more decent or reasonable than the average person, Chuck, but you're doing exactly the opposite." He furrowed his brow further as she reached up and gently put her hand on the side of his neck, her cool fingers stroking towards the back and then to the side again. It set him at ease more than anything in his life ever had before. He leaned into her hand unconsciously. "You're greater than you know. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry for what this is doing to you. I'm truly sorry."
"You haven't done anything you should be sorry for. I'll survive. This at least," he added with a scoff. "Everything else, who knows if I'll survive any of that?" He felt her thumb stroke along the line of his jaw and he shivered.
When he turned his gaze to her, she was closer, much closer. And her blue eyes slowly moved down from his brown eyes, stopping at his lips. At least, he thought she was looking at his lips, because the door at the back of the car was swept open, the loud cacophony of the train moving along the tracks filling their quiet, comfortable space.
Sarah was no longer touching him, no longer looking at him, instead facing front again.
A well-dressed woman walked down the aisle past them, her young son's arm gripped tightly in her gloved hand as she chastised him in Spanish, probably for misbehaving. They opened the door at the front of the car and disappeared from sight again, locking Chuck and Sarah in the quiet of the car. This time, the quiet felt uncomfortable, the air tense.
Chuck took his pocket watch out and glanced at it. "We're pulling into the station in five hours," he said, hearing the tentativeness in his own voice and cursing it.
Sarah merely nodded, wordlessly standing up and shuffling into the aisle, preparing to leave again.
Without realizing what he was doing, he reached up and grasped her hand in his. Her eyes widened as she looked down at him.
"You don't have to spend the rest of the trip in another part of the train, Sarah. I have a mess of…emotions to sort through. But you aren't—What I mean to say is that I don't blame you for any of it. And I wouldn't mind spending the rest of the journey in-in your company." He cleared his throat and blushed.
"You want me to sit with you…" she said, and he couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement.
So he looked her right in her eyes, ignoring the vulnerability he felt he was projecting at her, just how much he needed her to stay with him, trying not to feel too ashamed by it. And he forced confidence into his voice this time as he answered. "Yes. I do."
When she sat down again, they both stayed quiet, facing forward, and oddly enough, in spite of the conversation they had, in spite of how open she'd been with him, in spite of how much he appreciated that, he realized suddenly that he felt…worse.
And he wondered why in the hell human beings always had to be so damned messy, so horribly complicated. It was his last thought before he fell asleep, not even noticing the tender hands holding him, guiding him to lean against her strong body, his face tucked into the cotton blouse. And he was fully asleep when she pressed her lips oh so softly into his curls at the top of his head.
A/N: I'll leave you with this. Please review! It makes me write faster. I know a lot of people say that, but like...seriously, it really does.
-SC