A/N: I wrote this chapter over a year ago. And it's insane to me how parallel this fantastical steampunk fic has been to the current state of the U.S. It's terrifying actually, and I think I'm going to start having to be a lot more cognizant about infusing positive happenings into this fic because if Chuck Versus the Steampunk Chronicles is a forewarning of what's to come, we need some positive shit going on in this country/this world. Yikes. Thanks if you're still reading. A lot of folks dropped off, which I understand. It's been years. But I'm still working on it and there's still so much to come. Thanks for reading.
Disclaimer: I don't own CHUCK or its characters.
Last time: Chuck and Sarah kissed. What else do you really need to know? Oh, and it's the morning of the march. FINALLY. VOTES FOR WOMEN!
A melodious sound ran through the room as she fastened the skirt of her dress, fanning out the material, checking it, making sure the hem wasn't frayed like the first skirt she'd put on had been. That melodious sound was coming from her, wasn't it? She was humming, singing even. A little folk song an old friend had once taught her. She hadn't thought about it in over a decade, and now here she was singing.
"…and she said it was right that he kiss her in the night, when she cross o'er the bridge in Abita," she finished, looking at herself in the mirror, tucking a strand of hair away from her forehead. She'd piled her long, blond locks on top of her head in an intricate array of twists and turns. It had taken much longer than she'd meant for it to take, but it didn't matter, really. At the moment, nothing mattered except that she'd found her voice for the first time in a long while.
Her singing voice, in particular.
She smirked at her own reflection, then reached up to fix one of the puffy shoulders of her blouse. Ellie had said some of the older women were wearing fancy gowns to the march today, the theory being that men would be more apt to support the cause the prettier the suffragists were. But Ellie confessed that she thought the way the suffragists looked wouldn't matter to men who are already opposed to the cause. A woman in a gown speaking up for the right to vote wouldn't change their minds any more than a woman in the more comfortable outfit of a skirt and blouse, or trousers for that matter.
And so here stood Sarah Walker, con woman, waitress, protector of the man housing the Intersect, in a lovely dark skirt and a pearl-colored blouse with elegant shoulder puffs, long sleeves that ended in lace at her wrists, black gloves, and newly polished black boots with a comfortable heel.
Perhaps Ellie was right in her theory that gown versus skirt and blouse wouldn't make any difference in swaying men to their cause, but that didn't mean Sarah paid any less mind to her own appearance. She wanted to impress Ellie in so far as the cause went today.
But then there was Ellie's brother…
It was foolish, perhaps. Chuck Bartowski had seen her in muddied-up trousers, soaked through from climbing inside of a waterfall, hair wet and clinging to her face, cuts, bruises, biceps and ankles, calves, wrists…
Still, she took extra care to wear her best skirt, her best blouse, the one that accentuated her figure, her long legs. The one that gave him, and she supposed anyone else, but mostly him, the best view of her neck over the lace that stopped at her collarbone. Was this the first time she'd thought of a man while dressing without him being a mark? A target for a con job? She thought it might be, and she felt silly…but good, all at once.
She pinched her cheeks a little to accentuate the blush she'd applied there, then smoothed her hands down her front.
As she reached over to pull her sash from the hanger, she smiled to herself. And she wondered what the old acquaintance who'd taught her the song about Millie kissing boys on the bridge would think if she saw her now, draping a sash that said "Votes for women" on it over her shoulder, across her chest. Whatever she might say, Sarah felt a good amount of pride and determination as she stared at the words emblazoned over her torso. Perhaps today's march was a small step, one that wouldn't get the movement much traction in such a corrupted, backwards royal government, what with the greedy, old male leadership in place, and the traditionalist queen above them. But even a small step was a step. At least Ellie and her compatriots were trying.
She pinned the sash in place carefully, then grabbed her large, wide-brimmed hat, feathers and all, and placed it at an angle over her piled, curling hair, pinning it there expertly.
Moving back across her bedroom, she snagged her reticule and opened it, checking to make sure she had everything.
It was then that there was a fast, urgent rapping against her front door.
The bubble of contentment, determination, and dare she say it, happiness burst immediately. She was to meet the Bartowskis at City Hall for the start of the march. It couldn't be Chuck or Ellie, unless something had happened.
A terrible feeling assailed her, her gut churning as she rushed through her house and slipped one of her knives out of her sleeve into her hand before ripping the door open.
"Casey," she breathed. "What is it?"
He looked perturbed, his eyes casting down to the knife in her hand, then back up again. "We've got big trouble. Invite me in."
Sarah didn't respond, just stepping back and opening the door wider as he strode in. He stopped right in her entry way and she slammed the door shut behind him, locking it. She was struck momentarily by the fact that the last time this man was in her home, he'd had her throat clutched between his large hands. He'd been trying to kill her.
So much had changed in the last few months.
So much.
"What happened? Is Chuck all right?"
Casey didn't even use that as an opportunity to smirk at her for her immediate concern over her charge. That, more than anything, was what made the worry in her chest increase. "He's jes' fine. Fer now."
"Hold on just a minute. I thought you were sick the past few days," Sarah said, narrowing her eyes. "Chuck told me you haven't come into the Buy More to work all week."
"I wasn't sick," he grunted. "I don't get sick. I jes' told 'im that 'cause it were easier'n tellin' 'im where I actually went."
Sarah raised her eyebrows. "Where you went? The hell is going on?"
He just stared at her for a few moments, then sighed and looked down at his feet, before looking back up at her again.
"These damn Bartowskis have this knack fer gettin' inter all kinds o' trouble. I swear it's like they wanner make things difficult fer those of us tryin'a help 'em."
"Is it Ellie? Did she get into trouble? I just saw her this morning and—"
"No, stop interruptin'." She frowned at that. "This march o' hers, votes for women, rights an' all that? Not sayin' I don' believe a woman's got the right to vote jes' like a man has. Lord help me, but my own mammy wus the smartest damn person I ever met. If she'd had more of a say in this shitted up world'n…Well, anyway…" He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck. "I get it. But in this empire, in this town? You put together a big rally like this, one that might work in a place wut isn't as opposed ta free speech as this place is, an' mebbe you'd be all right. Mebbe it'd go smooth. Have some speeches, a march, tout the cause, an' go home. But I knew when Ellie wus talkin' 'bout this march thing that it wouldn't go that way. I know the law pretty much e'erywhere."
"This march isn't breaking any laws. The Coalition made sure to do everything above board for that reason. They've done nothing wrong."
"Yeh." He snorted. "It ain't breakin' any laws. Yeh. They did their prep work. That ain't gonna matter if the other side ain't playin' fair."
Sarah suddenly felt like she knew where this was going. Oh…
"I checked inter things, used a little guile, got myself inter the barracks of a few patrols. I left town for a bit to check on how the local guv'ment is taking this march behind closed doors. They're smilin' and noddin' to Ellie an' 'er lady friends, but when they turn their backs…?"
"What, Casey? What'd you find out?"
"There's gonna be a mass of patrolmen at the rally, keepin' an eye on the march."
"Wasn't that always going to be the case?" Sarah asked, dubious. "To keep marchers and onlookers safe. To keep the peace."
Casey gave her a flat look she didn't much appreciate. "Who the hell you think we're talkin' 'bout? Since when 'ave patrols been on the up an' up?"
"Good point," she breathed, pressing her fingers to her temples, her mind going a mile a minute. "If they've put more patrol in place, and it isn't to protect attendees, why are they there?"
"It's either that they 'spect things might get bad…" He paused dramatically and she put the pieces together, dread spilling through her.
"Or they know things will get bad. Because they're going to incite it themselves."
Casey nodded once. "Wut better way ta discredit a movement'n to make it look like an angry mob? All they gotta do's attack the right person and the mob ignites. This whole Coalition thing, the march, the movement? It'll be forever marked as violent, an' therefore not legitimate."
Sarah cursed, shutting her reticule and going straight for her bed in the other room, tugging her trunk out from under it and unlocking it. "How are you on weapons?" she asked Casey as she heard him slowly thump into the room after her.
"How'm I?"
"I mean, what've ya got?" She stood up as she swung the trunk open and gestured to her cache of weaponry. "Anything like this? Take your pick."
"The hell kinda idea you—S'that a double action?" He strode across the wood floors and reached down to grab one of her pistols out of the trunk, casting his gaze along the long barrel reverently.
"Take it." She held up a finger as a light ignited in his eyes. "Borrow it."
He shook himself, then put the gun down the back of his pants, tucking it under his coat. "What d'you think we're gonna be doin'? Takin' out hundreds of patrol? I ain't gettin' killed fer no woman's right to cast a damn vote in an ass-crooked society where a vote don't count anyhow."
"Casey!" she snapped. "Ellie and Devon are there." She froze and paled. "Chuck is going to be there." Her voice got caught in her throat. "We need to get them away from that march. Right now."
"Oh. Oh, righ'. I thought maybe the altruistic toy boy'd rubbed off on ya."
She shook her head, grabbing a few smaller pistols and putting them wherever she could without them being seen, hiding a few more knives under her skirt, not caring about Casey's presence as he combed through her weapons with his back to her.
"Look, I seen this happen in other countries. People get beat, they get dead. The patrols, the guv'ment…? They always win." Sarah looked up at Casey, abject fear in her face. "I came back as soon as I could. Here's hopin' we ain't too late an' it's already started."
She spun to look at her clock. "We have half an hour until everything starts. Chuck is probably still at the Buy More, gathering the buttons and fliers they spent all day yesterday printing. But he won't be there for long. If he hasn't already left."
She wasn't sure how well she did keeping despair and intense worry from her tone, but she didn't care at the moment. Chuck and his family were in genuine danger.
"You go to 'im, make sure 'e doesn' leave that damn shop!"
"And what are you going to do in the meantime?" the con woman asked, stamping out the fear and pushing her heart back into her chest from her throat where it had ended up. Determination in her every movement, she slammed her trunk shut, locked it, shoved it back under her bed, and made for the main room of her house.
"I'm fixin' ta git'a City Hall an' take Chuck's family away from there."
A voice that sounded like hers echoed through her head then, telling her that there were other innocent people there, women who just wanted a fair shake in this world that worked to push them down at every turn—courageous, outspoken women. And the men who were joining them because they believed in them and what they were doing.
As Casey moved past her to her front door, she reached out and grabbed his arm.
That voice in her head was hers. It was hers. It wasn't Chuck or…or anyone else. But she was too caught up in everything to recognize that the Sarah from even a year earlier would never have had that voice in her head. Or maybe it would've been there, but buried deep, deep inside where she couldn't hear it.
"Casey, no. Go to them. Tell them they have to stop this march, this rally. Try to get them to call it off. Ellie's reasonable. If you tell her why, she'll listen."
He made a face. "Ya want me to reason with that woman? Listen, I respect the hell outta her. That's why I know she ain't gonna be reasoned with here."
"Try, Casey."
"Nah, that's a waste o' time. I'm jes' gittin' 'em out."
"John." He stopped and gave her a long look. She met his gaze with her own. "There are a lot of innocent people who could die, not just Chuck and his family, but Ellie's friends. People. Whether they're particularly good people or not, that's not for us to decide. But you have to try."
"Look, I ain't Chuck. You git that? I don't owe any of 'em anythin'. You stop ta think I'm riskin' my own life standin' out there and tryin' ta reason with these people instead o' jes' gittin' 'em ta safety?" He leaned down, his face close to hers. "I ain't doin' it. Jes' focus on keepin' Chuck put. Got it?"
And then he was gone, leaving Sarah amidst a dark, thick cloud of disappointment.
It wasn't worth dwelling over.
She had an inventor to rescue. And rescue him she would.
A day that had started out better than any other day she could remember was suddenly exactly the opposite, and as she burst from her house and tore down the back alley to the street behind her landlord's property, she allowed herself to curse fate, life, whatever it was that continued sticking a damn knife into any bit of happiness she got and twisting it savagely.
}o{
Chuck Bartowski took his pocket watch out of his waistcoat and popped it open, cursing when he saw what time it was. "I'm late. I'm late and Ellie's going to murder me," he muttered to himself.
He shoved his watch back into his pocket and dashed to the small mirror he hung over the sink in the corner of his workshop, adjusting his tie, trying in vain to fix the lone curl that was sticking up on top of his head.
Giving up on that, he grabbed his hat from its hook and slammed it down over the offending dark curls, snagging his coat and making to shrug it on when the alley door to his workshop exploded open.
His life in the past few months had given him quite a few lessons in self-preservation, and so he didn't even think twice before he dove behind the large metal machine in the center of the room, taking cover from whomever had just come into his shop in such a violent way.
"I don't have any money!" he belted, wishing he hadn't already attached Morgan to his charging stand. He'd at least prove a good distraction if nothing else. But he was asleep. He could wake him up…
"Chuck, get out from there."
Oh…
He gracefully rose to his feet and swung out from behind the machine, a sheepish smile on his face while he pulled his coat on all the way. "Oh. Sarah. I'm sorry. I was just—What's wrong?"
He saw almost immediately that there was a certain look on her face, one that sent worry rocketing through him.
"You need to stay here, all right?" she said, instead of answering his question. She was in front of him, holding onto his arms. "Just stay here with me and everything will be fine."
"What? Everything will be f—" He caught sight of her chosen outfit finally and blanched, taking it in. Maybe it was the way she wore her hat, tilted just so, but he felt warmth spill through him. "You look magnificent, Sarah." He shook himself then, trying to get back to the point. "Listen, I have to go to the march," he explained, gesturing over at the box of fliers and buttons he left on his desk. "I'm already late as it is, Sarah."
"You're going to be much later, Chuck. As in you aren't going."
"What?!" He shook his head in confusion, the worry coming back tenfold. "I can see you're afraid, Sarah. What are you afraid of? What's happening?" He grabbed her under her elbows and pulled her close, looking into her eyes. "Tell me."
Sarah swallowed, then nodded. "You have to promise me you'll stay right here."
"You know I can't make that promise. I refuse to lie to you."The way she seemed to almost lean her weight into him, as though she'd just melted… But no, he could tell she was out of breath, her chest heaving…She'd probably run here. From where? And why did she run? He needed answers. Now.
"Fine, then don't promise. Casey hasn't been sick at all, Chuck."
That was an unexpected place for her to jump to, he thought to himself. "He hasn't?"
"He just told you that. He won't admit it, but he's been worried about this march, one of his bounty hunter gut feelings, probably. But then he did some asking around, snooping. The local government has assigned a mob of patrolmen to flank the march on either side of the route, and to be there during the rally and speeches before and after."
Chuck gaped, then shook his head slowly, brow furrowed. "That doesn't make any sense. Why are there going to be that many patrol? Ellie was at all of those meetings between the Coalition march organizers and the local government, the mayor, city council. They agreed upon a route, they agreed the march was legal and allowed."
"Yes, well…" Sarah swallowed thickly. "Casey didn't feel like they would play by their own rules, and judging by what we've both seen from the patrol the few times we've encountered them, he's most likely right."
He could feel himself glowering. "You have a point. A good one. But why would they grant a request for a march and rally, only to fill it with their own—" Realization swept through him like a bucket of cold water was dropped on his head just then. And he felt the color fade from his face. He felt a little dizzy, even, and Sarah was right there, helping him land in a chair as his knees threatened to buckle. "Oh my—Oh my God. Sarah, oh my God. They're going to start a riot, make it look like it was the marchers who instigated it. To discredit them."
Sarah blinked. "Yes. Exactly."
"I have to go. I have to go to Ellie."
A strong hand gripped his arm as he jumped up and made to move past her. He spun to face her. "Sar—"
"You aren't going anywhere. You go to that march and the patrolmen start a riot…" He watched her eyes swim with uncertainty, worry. "People will get hurt, beaten, shot, trampled… Who knows what they're capable of, Chuck? I can't let you be there for that. It's safe here. I can protect you better here."
He swallowed thickly. "Sarah, I—"
"You are staying here."
Chuck didn't even have to think twice, then. He pulled away from Sarah and went towards the door. But she beat him to it and plastered herself across it, blocking him from leaving, even going so far as to lock it. He could feel his brow darkening. "Move, Sarah."
"I can't, Chuck. I can't let anything happen to you."
"Ellie is out there. Devon. They're my family. I'm not staying here locked up when they could be…Damn it, Sarah! Move!" He felt panic rising in him. She wouldn't budge, though. So he dove in to try to move her himself.
"No!" she barked, fighting him off. They wrestled for a good twenty seconds as he tried to get to the door, but then she finally got the upper hand and pinned him to the wall next to the door, knocking over a few tools in the process. He growled in desperation, cheek pressed to the cold stone of the wall.
"Sarah, please… Please, that's my sister. She's one of the speakers at the beginning. She'll be on the stage." He could feel his eyes starting to well up. "If she's up there, she'll make the perfect target. Please, let me go. Please!"
"Chuck, if something happens to you—"
But he could hear her weakening. Perhaps it was his desperation, the unshed tears in his brown eyes, or maybe she genuinely cared for Ellie in her own way, but her resolve was ebbing. He could hear it, feel it in her body that was pressed so tightly against his as she held him against the wall of his shop.
"Sarah, I meant what I said this morning. About your father. You'd do anything for him, even risk your life to save mine. Throwing away your own freedom and safety to keep him safe. Why?"
"Because he's my—He's…" Her voice got caught in her throat. "He's all I really have," she admitted quietly.
"Ellie's been the one constant in my life. The one person I could always count on. A sister and a parent even, in a lot of ways. She's my rock. I would die for her in a heartbeat." Sarah had his arms pinned behind his back, one hand holding both of his, while her other hand held onto his shoulder. Chuck shifted his fingers so that he could wrap them around hers. "Sarah, I have to go. I have to make sure Ellie's okay."
She let go of him, stepping back, and as he turned to look at her, his brow furrowed, admittedly a bit surprised, he saw how much she was fidgeting, how unsure she was…for just a moment. And then he saw the courage, the determined set of her jaw, her blue eyes flashing. He was lost… She had him in every single way and he didn't know if he'd ever be free of her hold, no matter what happened.
"Let's go," she breathed, and she led the way, unlocking the door and rushing out into the alleyway. "We need to catch a trolley. It's too far to go on foot," she said. "We'll never make it in time."
"Wait, wait…" An idea struck him as he followed her into the alleyway and grabbed onto her wrist to stop her. He got a look on his face, one that earned him a dubious glance from the con woman.
Then he went to the shed at the end of the alleyway, tucked against the back wall.
"No! Absolutely not, Chuck! No!"
"Yes… It's the fastest way," he assured her, unlatching the door and swinging it open, going inside and grabbing his steamcycle by the handlebars.
"I don't care if it can get us there in the next minute. I'm not sitting on that monstrosity. You'll kill us both, you maniac!" she exclaimed, shaking her head vehemently. "No!"
"All right, then. Stay here and keep Morgan safe. I'll go by myself." He kicked at the kickstand and rolled it out of the shed, walking right past her as she watched him, her mouth agape.
"No! Chuck, this is madness!"
"I can get us to City Hall on time, but we have to leave now."
"Even using the streets of Los Angeles, it will take a good twenty minutes to get to the rally!" she tried and he shrugged, swinging his leg over the machine beast and lowering himself onto the seat, getting comfortable…Well, as comfortable as possible…considering it wasn't all that comfortable.
"It'll be quicker if I don't use the streets," he reasoned, turning it on. It revved to life. "Are you coming with me or staying behind? We're wasting valuable time," he called over the loud engine.
"Where am I even supposed to sit? Actually, no! My answer is no! I'm not doing this! You're going to kill yourself and I'm not going down with you. No." She shook her head, crossing her arms.
He was too sick with worry over his sister to think too hard on how incredibly cute she was, standing there so prim and proper, her Votes for Women sash a bit crooked, probably from her mad dash to his shop to keep him from leaving it, her hat a bit askew, her cheeks pink, chest heaving.
"All right."
Biting back his disappointment, but prepared to do whatever he had to do to keep Ellie safe, with or without Sarah Walker, he lifted his feet up and rumbled out of the alleyway.
"WAIT! WAIT, I'VE CHANGED MY MIND! COME BACK!"
Chuck skidded to a halt, turning the motorcycle to half-face her, the tire marking a black crescent on the pavement beneath him. He grabbed the goggles hanging from the handle and quickly put them on, lowering them over his eyes as Sarah staggered to his side and stopped beside the steamcycle, just peering at it in trepidation for a moment.
"Get on," he said, holding his hand out for her.
"How? I'm in a damnable skirt!" she snapped.
"Figure it out!" he snapped back.
She huffed, glaring at him, and grabbed her skirts, hoisting them up around her waist so that he had a full momentary view of her petticoats, and then she gracefully swung onto the seat behind him, scooting up close to his back and letting her skirts fall into place again. "Go, already!" she barked in his ear.
He winced. "Hold on tight to me," he advised over his shoulder. "It's going to be rather a bumpy ride."
"Oh, just goooo—AHHHHHHHHH!"
Sarah's arms quickly wrapped around his midsection and she clamped her front to his back as he sped off down the street, ignoring the affronted outcries of the people they passed.
}o{
Filth.
Filthy filth.
She could feel it crunching against the souls of her boots, slithering up through her feet, her legs, enveloping her whole body inside of her. Like the serpent devil who first turned mankind against God, slowly making its way up her body.
She stomped it away and grit her teeth, casting her eyes around the masses of people. The sash she wore was fraying, and wasn't that the perfect metaphor for this entire evil movement? The fraying of moral ideals, of society, of everything a woman was supposed to be…
These people around her were moving further and further from God and it was high time they faced repercussions for their corrupted decisions and actions. It was high time they looked themselves in the mirror, opened their eyes to the ways of the world, the evils of it. Turn away, a voice in her head told her. Turn away from the temptations…
She knew it was his voice, her Inquisitor. He was guiding her in the word of God.
The true word.
Slipping her hand inside of her cloak, she felt the steady, fortifying weight of her Bible there. It reassured her. So much had happened, so much had been taken from her. And she could get it all back. She could repay these people for what their sins brought her, the misery of her deplorable existence… It would all be healed. The Inquisitor made her a promise.
She moved in the shadows, weaving between women with sashes like hers, moving closer and closer to the back of the stage where organizers had congregated.
And that was when she saw them.
A tall, wide-shouldered man was leaning in and speaking to one of the organizers, a sharply-dressed woman, her cloak tucked back behind her shoulders and out of the way, her sash not fraying at all, chin held high, shoulders straight… She let herself revel in the spite that flowed through her veins. Clearly this was one of the women who started this entire travesty of a movement, this "coalition" of women who didn't know their place. The Inquisitor would approve if she just wrapped her hands around that woman's neck right now and squeezed until there was no more air left in her lungs.
But instead, she moved closer, subtly inching her way along behind the back stairs that led up onto the makeshift stage they'd erected a day earlier. Patrols were everywhere, some of them watching with a studied eye, others looking like they'd rather be anywhere else.
Their presence would make all of this so much easier.
Local officials, in their greed for power and control, had played right into the Inquisitor's hands…
"—and I'm tellin' ya, they're here to discredit your movement, Mrs. Woodcomb."
"Bartowski-Woodcomb," the woman corrected. "And we invited a patrol presence, Mr. Casey. That was part of our negotiation with the city planner and the patrol headquarters. They're here to keep us safe—"
"Lady, when you e'er have an experience with a patrolman that made ya feel safe?"
She blanched. "That's beside the point. I can't just get up on that stage and tell everyone to go home. People have come here and brought their entire families with them. We've been waiting for this day for months. I'm not backing down because you've given me some conspiracy theory."
"It ain't a conspiracy theory. I know men within their ranks who confirmed it ta me verbatim, Mrs. Woodcomb. Ya hafta call it off. Especially wut with families bein' here. Innocents will be hurt or killed."
So…
They were cancelling the rally. Or he was trying to get her to cancel the rally, at least.
But it was too late. People were already gathered, patrol forces flanking them. She could feel the discontent and the disillusionment in the air, even amidst the hope. Hope…
What a waste, hope.
She would do everything she could to quash it. For God.
This place was a powder keg just waiting to be lit. The fuel was here. All she and her Inquisitor worshipping compatriots had to do was add the fire. And how easy that would be.
"—will be the end o' yer entire movement. Surely," the man continued. "It'll set ya back decades if you're seen as bein' violent against the law, the guv'ment. Nobody'll wanna support yer coalition, Eleanor."
"I understand you're trying to help, but even if the patrol is here to discredit us, we have to fight for what we believe in. We can't just quit because they're intimidating us," she hissed back, leaning in close.
"You ain't quittin'. You're just pullin' back to save these people's lives. Regroupin'. Comin' back again later."
"Only for this to happen again? I don't think so. I can't—"
"Please. Lady, I've got plenty o' respect fer ya and wut you ladies are doin'—"
"Is that why you keep calling us 'ladies'?" she snarked.
It made the eavesdropper smirk. This woman was the worst of filth, she thought to herself. Somehow she'd gotten it into her head that she was worth more than her lot in life. It wouldn't be long before she'd see how wrong she was.
But then…
"I'll talk to the others, I'll tell them what you've told me. But I can't just make a decision like this alone. I have an entire board I'm sitting on. And I am not the president."
"That's all I ask…"
And as the woman nodded her head briskly, striding away towards another group of women clucking at one another like chickens the eavesdropper thought to herself sourly, she was suddenly aware of the dangers of this development.
Everything was set up. Everything was ready. She'd received the signal. The weapon was in place. All of the weapons were in place, but the most important one was secure, attached to the side of a fire hydrant in the middle of the night while the broken city was sleeping. And it was currently surrounded by armed patrolmen.
She couldn't tell how the other organizers were responding to their colleague.
But she wouldn't risk it.
They were ready. It didn't matter that no one was on the stage yet.
She was making a decision.
Hurrying through the crowd, she brushed up against one of her own colleagues, moving up onto her tiptoes and breathing in his ear, "God's will be done."
He gave her a critical look. "Not yet, woman," he snapped. "It hasn't started."
"They're going to call it off. Do it now."
He glanced over her head, saw the organizers in deliberation no doubt, then nodded, his short frame disappearing into the sea of marchers. With that, she turned on her heel and hastened towards the front of the stage. She had her mission. Whether she lived or died, it didn't matter. Because she would be saved. And she would see him again. They would all pay and she would be forever in God's grace, the Inquisitor's grace.
}o{
She felt a hand drape over hers. And then the fingers snuck around her hand, gave her a squeeze, and slowly pried her clenched fist open. "Sarah…?"
Her eyes snapped open and she let out a rough breath into the back of his jacket. They'd stopped. The damn thing wasn't going anymore. But her head was spinning. Her limbs were numb. Her fingers were frozen, clamped against his torso. She'd lost her hat somewhere back there…
As she finally looked around to survey her surroundings, she realized he'd driven them to the alleyway behind the City Hall. She could hear the crowd that had gathered on the other side of the large multi-level building, now that the rest of her senses were coming back.
It had maybe been a five minute trip as opposed to the twenty minutes it might've taken if they'd hopped on the trolley. She'd give him that much.
The way he'd sliced through crowds, screeching into alleyways to take short cuts…almost like he'd done this before. He'd handled the machine with finesse and strength, and damn her if she wasn't buzzing with adrenaline and something else—the same something else that she'd felt a few hours ago when she'd kissed him.
She was in trouble.
But more importantly, Ellie Bartowski-Woodcomb was in trouble, as was her husband.
Sarah carefully climbed off of the back of the steamcycle, watched as he leapt off of it and put the kickstand down, then grabbed his arm and raced down the alleyway with him in tow.
Chuck overtook her and exploded into the crowd ahead of her.
They ignored the angry grumbles and gasps of the people around them, pushing through the mass of bodies to try to get closer to the main stage. There were so many people, though, that Sarah could barely even see the stage, they were still so far from it.
"Do you see Ellie?" Chuck asked over his shoulder.
She shook her head and he cursed, casting his eyes over the crowd.
Chuck curled his fingers around hers and pulled her along after him, moving in the direction of the stage with purpose.
When suddenly there was a deafening sound, a loud explosion about a dozen yards to the east of the stage where Ellie was supposed to be to start the rally any minute now.
Sarah staggered backwards into the person behind her, hands going to her face as she watched people carried into the air, flailing, disappearing into the crowd again. There were screams of terror, pain… Smoke billowed up from the site of the explosion.
And just like that, there was the sound of a gun going off, more screams…
It was like a wave of anger and violence swept out from the point where the explosion happened and overtook the rows of people behind it, in front of it, all around it. A man a few feet away from her suddenly turned and brought his fist across a nearby patrolman's face, completely unprompted.
"Ellie!"
Chuck took off, surprising her as he dashed at the stage. She rushed after him, calling his name, wrestling her way through the fighting that had seemed to break out between march attendees and patrolmen, between march attendees and other attendees…
She was confused, scared, but still keeping her eye on everyone near Chuck, making sure to watch for any fists or weapons coming towards him. She hadn't forgotten her duty in all of this. He was hers to protect, and she would do so 'til her last breath.
"Ellie!" Chuck called out again.
But it attracted a nearby patrolman's attention, who turned on his heel and raised his pistol to point at Chuck.
"NO!" Sarah dove, tackling Chuck out of the way as the gun went off, feeling it disrupt the air a millimeter away from her ear. Popping back up to her feet, she grabbed the man's wrist, twisted it so that it snapped under her grip, and then bent forward and threw him up and over her shoulder.
Chuck had since clambered back up to his feet. He grabbed her by her arm and spun her to face him. "Thank you. Again."
Before she could respond, she felt a fist twist at the back of her collar and yank her backwards. She cried out and used the momentum, to bring her elbow back and crack it into her attacker's face. As she turned to face them, she saw it was a woman who wore a sash just like her own.
"You broke my nose, you wretched whore!" the woman snarled, hunching over as the blood came through her fingers she had covering her nose.
That wasn't entirely in the suffragist spirit, she thought to herself, before she grabbed the woman by her sash, yanked her in closer, and brought a fist across her face, knocking her out cold.
"What in the hell is happening?" Chuck asked, breathless, confused. "Why did she attack you?"
"I don't know. None of this is right."
Two more men ran at them, then, neither of them patrolmen. Sarah kicked at the nearest one's knee, hearing the wicked snap of his bone over the yelling of the crowd around them, then she grabbed him by his graying hair and yanked his head down into her knee she brought up into his face. He was limp before he hit the ground.
She turned just in time to see Chuck knock the other man out. He met her gaze and something passed between them. Something she didn't have time to analyze, considering their circumstances.
And yet, because he was Chuck Bartowski…
"Sarah, I—"
"In God's name I—" There was a loud shot and the short man yelling about God's name and running for Chuck with a knife in hand crumpled to the ground, a bullet in his back.
They both shrugged and met eyes again.
"I need to find Ellie."
"I know. She's probably by the stage, and—"
"No, but first…" He closed the distance and cupped her face, looking into her eyes. She felt weak. And strong. Both. Lord help her, how did he continue to make her feel like this?
Someone to Sarah's left yelled and she pulled away from Chuck to see a woman in a sash again, a menacing look on her face, charging them. Sarah caught the women's wrist before she could bring her butcher knife around, kneed the weapon out of her hand, then slammed her forehead into face of her attacker, knocking her out immediately. Served her right for interrupting…
But then she turned and went back to Chuck who was gaping a tad. "That was amazing," he breathed. Then he shook himself and grabbed her by her shoulders. "Something big is happening here. And I'm afraid it's bigger than this march. I don't know what's going to—or if I'll even—I need you to know that I shouldn't have kissed you back like that. This morning. I know that. I—GOD DAMN IT, WILL YOU LET ME FINISH A DAMN SENTENCE?!" he bellowed, grabbing the attacking patrolman with the bludgeon by his lapel and bodily slamming him into the ground. He brought his boot across the man's face, and without looking back once, he grabbed Sarah by her arms again. "I'm sorry. I overstepped. You knew Ellie was there, you heard her coming, I don't know. I was so caught up in you, I had no idea. I get it now, though. So I'm sorry. And now I have to go find Ellie. But I needed to say that before I potentially…"
She was stunned, speechless.
And then she realized what he was trying to say. His potential last words.
He didn't wait for her response. Instead, he broke away and began to run towards the stage again.
"CHUCK!"
The toymaker staggered to a stop at her anxious cry of his name. She didn't know what she was doing, but she did at the same time. She knew exactly what she was doing and she didn't care what it meant or how crazy it was…
All she cared about was that it was the truth, and how much she knew the truth would mean to him.
When he spun to face her, she shoved someone who'd inadvertently gotten in her way out of her path and took a few steps towards him. "I didn't know. I didn't know Ellie was there. I didn't hear her coming. I had no idea."
She saw a flash of realization come over his face, understanding, and he looked for a moment like he wanted to come back to her. But he didn't. Because he was Chuck Bartowski. Instead, he rushed away to save his sister.
She was about to follow him, to help him, protect him, when she heard a familiar voice cry out nearby.
"WHY ARE YOU ATTACKING ME?! I'M FOR THE CAUSE!"
Devon Woodcomb.
Sarah rushed to the man who stood a head above everyone around him, his features set in confusion and fear as he shoved his fist into the shoulder and neck of the man attacking him. Without a second thought, Sarah leapt into the air and brought her fist back, cracking it into Devon's attackers' temple with a vicious snap of her arm as she landed again.
"Are you all right?" she asked the doctor as she turned to face him, panting.
"Oh…My God. You just—Hello, Sarah."
"Hello," she greeted, smiling a little, pushing hair that escaped her updo out of her face. His eyes went wide as they spotted something over her shoulder and she grabbed the umbrella Devon had in one hand and blindly jammed it behind her. She felt it make contact, heard the gurgle of pain, and pulled the umbrella back again, propping it on her shoulder. "Thank you for the warning."
"Oh. Y-You're welcome. "What's—Look out!"
Something crashed down onto her head, her hair cushioning most of the blow, but she felt the stinging pain and ache of it as she fell to the ground, already kicking a boot up even as she teetered to the side.
As she landed, she scissored her legs and tripped up the woman holding the large wooden sign that she'd hit Sarah with, sending her sprawling to the ground. Luckily, she hit her head on the nearby step and went limp. Again, the woman was wearing a Votes for Women sash.
"Why are they attacking us?" Devon asked, helping Sarah to her feet. "Your head all right?"
"I don't know what's going on," she said. "And I'm fine. I have a feeling some of these women and men aren't here for the right cause."
"I should say not," Chuck's brother-in-law agreed, still supporting a good bit of her weight. Her head really hurt. Quite a bit. And damn it, her sash was coming off. "I have to find Ellie. We got separated before—I need to—"
"Go. I can handle myself."
"Yes, I-I see that." He put a comforting hand on her shoulder, met her gaze, nodded seriously, and was off. And because her head wasn't entirely right at that moment, she found herself thinking how lucky Eleanor Bartowski-Woodcomb was that she had two good men risking themselves to protect her.
She allowed herself to dwell too long, however, because it was right then that she felt a beefy arm round her neck and squeeze. It effectively cut off her air. It didn't matter how much she struggled, she couldn't free herself. He was too strong.
"But I suffer not a woman to teach, nor to usurp authority over the man, but to be in silence," he snarled breathlessly into her hair, his breath hot and putrid against her skin.
As Sarah tried to grapple for his arm, pry it away, she felt the pin on her sash brush against her fingers. Oh…
In less than a moment, she had the pin buried in his wrist. He cried out and let go of her as she staggered away from him, choking for air. She grabbed the ends of her sash in each hand as he charged at her again, and she slung it over his head and dashed to the side, under his arms so that she was standing behind him, and she yanked him to the ground, pulling each end hard and looking down at him, clenching her jaw as she watched his face bloat while he struggled for air.
When he finally stopped struggling, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, body going limp, she let out a long breath and unwound the sash from around his neck.
"Votes for women," she panted, dropping the sash onto his face and moving away.
She'd had enough of this.
She needed to find Chuck, Ellie, Devon…
She needed to get all of them out of here and to safety.
"GET OFF OF ME!"
Sarah recognized one of Ellie's friends from the Coalition, a young woman from out of town if she remembered correctly. She was being wrestled to the ground by one of the patrolmen.
"LET ME GO!"
Sarah sprang into action, grabbing him by the back of his collar, hoisting him off of the woman, and stomping her heel into his face. She grabbed Beatrice's hand, yanked her to her feet, and shoved her in the other direction. "Go! Run!"
"Thank you!"
The woman was smart, not second guessing, just listening and sprinting as fast as she could away from the riot.
"We end this! Glory to the Inquisitor!"
Sarah followed the voice and saw a man in a bowler, his lip bloodied, a gash on his leg, lighting a stick of dynamite and stashing it under the stage scaffolding. Another man ran up beside him and grabbed him by his sleeve, yanking him away to run to safety.
She acted fast, slipping a throwing knife into her palm from her sleeve and in one quick snap of her arm, throwing the knife and sinking it into the back of one of the men. His partner turned to look over his shoulder and met her gaze for a moment, before trying to escape, but she threw another knife just as quickly as she had the first. The knife caught him in the throat and he went down immediately.
"Sarah…?"
As the con woman looked up, she saw Eleanor Bartowski-Woodcomb standing at the base of the stairs to the stage, her hand clutching her shoulder in pain, her jaw slack and her eyes wide.
"Ellie, get away from there!" she screamed, lunging for the other woman. She had her by her arms and flung the older woman away from danger, swinging herself further into danger. And as she tried to escape, knowing what was coming, she thought she heard Ellie scream her name.
But then there was another loud explosion and she felt herself bodily lifted off of the ground. A sharp stinging pain went through her arm, and she landed, hard, her head lolling to the side.
She saw feet running to and fro past her field of vision, foggy…so foggy…then blurry…
And then her eyes slipped shut, her world going dark.
A/N: Told you last time I wouldn't be toning it down. Expect the darkness. That said, there's nothing I love more than infusing light and hope into a bleak and unforgiving landscape, so don't think you'll be reading a story that's just going to be full of angst and depressing shit. That's not what my SteamVerse is. It's about finding light in darkness and clinging to it. Taking something that's broken and mending it. Keep that in mind as you continue to visit this world with me.
Thanks for reading. Please, please review. It helps so much.
-SC