A/N: A few pieces of the puzzle...

NOW

Nothing's so cold

As closing the heart when all we need

Is to free the soul

But we wouldn't be that brave, I know

And the air outside's so soft

Confessing everything

Everything

"All I Want"

Toad the Wet Sprocket

May 4, 1952

Worcester, Massachusetts

When the appraisers were finished, Diane took Sarah back to Roxanne's. Chuck said a brief farewell, giving her a quick peck on the lips which Sarah returned with a more deliberate one that lingered. He had to pull himself away.

This is real. This is really happening. He didn't know how long he would need to keep reminding himself before the knowledge sunk in.

He was still abstractly troubled, thinking about whatever it was Sarah was keeping to herself. But he had faith that if he gave her enough time, enough love and understanding, she would feel comfortable enough to share with him.

He went back to work unceremoniously. Mike gave him a curious look, but it didn't linger. Morgan was busy but excited to hear about what had happened after he'd left Chuck's office. Chuck didn't have too many specifics to offer, but made it a point to admit that Morgan, and everyone else, for that matter, had been right all along: Sarah wanted to be with him. At last, Chuck had told Sarah he loved her. Her indirect response was typical of her–actions, not words–but it was all the confirmation he had needed.

When Chuck finally had a moment alone in his office, he noticed the uneven stack of papers on the desk in front of him.

The ledger.

In all the whirlwind, he had forgotten it was there. His mood sank, worry taking control of his thoughts. He needed to examine it in detail, hoping to get a better understanding of what the legal experts had not been able to see. The SEC and the district attorney's case was moot now that Jack was dead. Chuck was left to deal with unpaid bills and insufficient funds, and the ledger, he hoped, would tell him where that stolen money had gone.

Chuck needed to know how deeply involved Jack had been with organized crime. He needed to know what Shaw was up to, why he was lurking around Chuck's place of business. The more Chuck knew, the better he could protect Sarah from whatever threatened her. He was dealing in vaguenesses and hypotheticals, but no matter what, his gut told him Sarah wasn't safe the way things stood.

What he had seen a little while ago confirmed it. Shaw had verbally and physically accosted Sarah. Knowing Shaw was frequenting Carina's bed, and so Roxanne's house, only made the circumstances more dire.

Chuck pulled the crumpled book from under the paper pile and smoothed it flat as best he could. He opened the flimsy, tattered and torn cover.

The first entry, the oldest entry, was dated in early 1942.

Ten years. Jack had been embezzling funds for ten years. Chuck felt completely foolish. How had it been going on so long, and undetected?

But Chuck was wrong to feel foolish, he realized. In 1942, Chuck had been 14, completely unaware of what business was being transacted in his father's company. Chuck had been worrying about the war and Casey. The last thing on his mind had been business.

Now, with a solid education, a Master's Degree in both business and engineering, events and circumstances retroactively made more sense. Frequently Chuck had heard Sarah parroting back Jack's words about war being good for business. And it had been, Chuck understood that better now as an adult. The war in Europe prior to Pearl Harbor had been a boon to Burton Carmichael, as Jack had predicted.

But what Jack hadn't been able to predict was the scope, the devastating magnitude of a world war that left its ravages on almost every continent. The European nations once buying goods from overseas were invaded by the Axis powers. FDR had forbidden trade and commerce with any country within that frame of influence. While the domestic demand for Burton Carmichael's goods had increased due to U.S. involvement in the war, their primary customer had been the U.S. military. Everyone had to sacrifice during the war, even for-profit businesses. The price the government was willing to pay for goods was much lower than in peacetime. That drop seemed to have started what Morgan referred to as stealing from Peter to pay Paul.

Jack had falsified information, first artificially decreasing net gains and skimming off the top. Later, once the war was over, he switched to artificially increasing net gains, while still skimming, in order to disguise the accounting shortfalls.

Jack had apparently started to borrow money from Frank Iaconi in late 1949. Although, from what Chuck could tell, he had been faithfully repaying Iaconi. Still, faithful repayment was often not enough. The mafia often demanded favors despite borrowers making their regular payments. No handshake at a transaction well conducted.

Iaconi's name continued to show all the way up to the last of the entries, made on the day Jack had committed suicide. Only, it seemed all of the recorded payments made after May of 1951 were written in red ink.

And a new name appeared. D. Shaw. One line every week until April 11, 1952, one week before Jack's suicide.

Jack had been paying Shaw double what he had been paying Iaconi. Peculiarly, the payments were independent of each other. Shaw wasn't simply collecting for Iaconi, or at least that wasn't all he was doing.

Shaw had been collecting money beyond Iaconi's loans.

Chuck wondered if Iaconi was aware of Shaw's private venture, whatever it was. Not paying tribute to the boss was a big deal. Chuck filed the fact away, an ace up his sleeve. The information might prove useful.

Had Shaw been blackmailing Jack?

The thought wouldn't leave Chuck alone. But how? Why? With what leverage?

More frightening was the possibility that Sarah was somehow involved. That whatever it was she feared to tell him had to do with this, with Jack's payments to Shaw.

Chuck shut the ledger.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, tedious ticks of the clock. He tried to put the worry away, and focus on only the moment he could be with Sarah again. Whatever was wrong, they would figure it out together. He firmly believed that.

He was also excited to tell Casey and Gertrude the good news.

Good news. It had been ages since he'd felt he had any of that to share.

As he was getting ready to leave for the day, Chuck opened the top drawer of his desk to stash the ledger. Awkward, pulling the drawer with his left hand, Chuck fumbled the book and it fell, bouncing against his knee before it hit the floor under the desk. When Chuck stooped, pushing his chair back to reach under the desk, he saw not only the ledger, but a sealed, white envelope on the floor. The envelope had to have fallen out of the ledger, tucked in the back pages Chuck hadn't perused. It had fallen face down, the wide V on the back of the envelope leering at him like a deep forehead scowl. Chuck picked it up, turning it over.

The front had his name on it, written…in Jack's handwriting.

Chuck felt a chill down his spine, feeling like Jack was speaking to him from beyond the grave. He left this here for me. How would Jack know Chuck would ever find it? The ledger was hidden. The implications were troubling. Did Jack leave a suicide note, hidden away, just for him?

Chuck's hands trembled as he slid his finger under the flap and ripped open the envelope. He pulled out the perfectly creased letter and unfolded it. It was dated April 17, 1952. Jack had to have left the letter, then gone home and shot himself, knowing he would never return.

Chuck took a deep breath and started to read the letter.

Dear Chuck,

I trust that if your eyes are looking at this paper, I'm dead, and by my own hand. I'm hoping you found this not that long afterward, that it's not years down the road. I had to leave this there, in the ledger, hoping you would be the one to find it. I wanted to make sure Sarah never sees it.

Please don't tell her about this. I hate asking you to keep things from her, but it's for the best, trust me. What kind of father takes his own life and doesn't leave a note for his only child? The same kind of father who most likely will have to do the terrible deed knowing she will find him. If I believed in God, I would ask him for forgiveness, but even if he exists, what right do I have to ask that?

This is my suicide note. My manifesto. My reason for why I did what I did.

The walls were closing in. I was out of money, out of time, out of solutions. No more money to pay my debts, both legal and illegal. The ledger you found this note in explains it all. The hows at least, maybe not the whys. At least not all of them. So here goes the rest.

Your father was the only reason I was successful in my life, both in business and at home. We worked well together. Our skills complemented each other. He convinced me to marry Sarah's mother and the time I had with Emma and Sarah were the happiest times of my life. Just far too short.

I stalled as long as I could, waiting for you to grow up. I thought I had time. Instead, I ruined everything your father left for you. I know it means next to nothing, especially coming from me, but I'm sorry. I don't expect you to forgive me, but I can't leave this world without offering my sincere apology regardless.

I'm hoping you can at least try to understand. Your empathy, your capacity for forgiveness and acceptance was always what impressed me most about you, and being honest at last, what I was most jealous of. I wished I knew how to be the man you are. You tried to help me, Chuck. I failed, not you, please know that. I wasn't yours to save, despite your valiant efforts anyway.

The rest of the story has to be told to you by my daughter. It is her story to tell.

Please know, Sarah is in terrible danger. Daniel Shaw was extorting money from me. As I write this, he insists the only payment left I can make to him is Sarah herself. That, I'm afraid, was what he was aiming for all along. God help me, I had no choice but to tell him he could have her.

Shooting myself in the house protects her from him. It ensures there will be police. He will be forced to wait for his payment.

Before you let your hatred poison you, thinking me a horrible monster for agreeing to that, a title I most certainly deserve, I have to explain. As I write this, my plan is to alert you, call your home. You won't be able to stop me, but you'll be here soon after she finds me. And as I prepare to stash this note away, hoping this finds you sooner rather than later, I know the specifics of time don't matter.

I didn't leave Sarah alone to fend off the wolves by herself.

I know, no matter what, you would never let any harm come to my daughter, that if the situation were dire enough, you would trade your life to protect her. That's what I'm about to do.

I was the worst father in the world, Chuck. She deserved so much better. The luckiest day of her life was when she met you…the greatest man that I know.

You love her. I know it. I saw it every time you looked at her. The reason why I ran away from Emma so long ago…was because I knew I wasn't good enough for her. She loved me anyway, even at my very worst. I know that's how you love Sarah, how you've always loved her. Unconditionally. How you always will love her.

While she has a story to tell you, she knew nothing about the payment I agreed to, that she was to be. Please, don't let her know that I said that, that I agreed even for a moment. Not so much for my sake, but for hers. Just like you, she always blamed herself for many things that weren't her fault. I couldn't bear the thought that she would ever blame herself for what I'm about to do, when the blame is all mine and mine alone.

I'm only hoping what I'm about to do will atone for some of the damage I've caused.

Please take care of her, Chuck. I know you will always do right by her, regardless of when you are reading this.

Jack

Almost completely numb, Chuck had read and reread the note, each time hoping it would say more than it did, explain more than it did. The sun had dropped almost to the horizon before he could shake himself out of the dark spell the letter cast on him.

Chuck hated the fact that his worst fears had been confirmed. Shaw had been blackmailing Jack, and the blackmail was somehow tangled up with Sarah's life. Bile burned in the back of his throat when he thought of Jack's foolhardy act. Chuck tried to sympathize, reminding himself how desperate Jack had been…but to promise his own daughter as payment for a debt?

He swallowed down his nausea, reminding himself that even as Jack made that bargain with the devil, Jack had been scheming to save Sarah from that fate. He had taken his own life to help ensure Shaw never touched her.

Cowardly and selfishly, Jack had dumped all of the continuing responsibility on Chuck's shoulders. Typical—in life and now even in death.

Well, Jack had been right about one thing. Jack had bet his life on the fact that Chuck loved Sarah. Jack had finally bet on a sure thing. With his last breath, Chuck would protect Sarah from Shaw. Whatever it took.

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Roxanne's driveway was short and her house was situated near the road. A farmer's porch wrapped around the house, all the way to the main entrance. The steps to the porch started at the end of the driveway.

Chuck turned off the ignition and exited his car. He could hear the muffled sounds of traffic on the road at the same time he heard birds chirping in the trees overhead. Over it all, he could hear voices carrying to where he stood.

Sarah and Carina were arguing, probably sitting on the porch, out of his line of sight but within range of his ears.

"You can't have it both ways. You can't keep it a secret…and be with him the way you want!"

"I don't know what to do…everything is different now…the plan has to change…"

"No kidding! Sarah, federal—"

Chuck, frantic, dreading what else he might overhear, opened his car door again and slammed it, slamming it hard to alert them to his presence. He couldn't unhear what he already had.

Whatever he was waiting for Sarah to tell him, Carina already knew. A secret, Carina had said. A secret Sarah was keeping from him. The secret Jack had told Chuck was hers to tell him. He wished it didn't hurt quite so much to now know that she was keeping a secret from him. He tried to be positive, telling himself Carina as a confidante was better than Sarah having no one. And that there must be a good reason why she hadn't told him. That she would, when the time was right.

His door slamming had the desired effect, he noted. They stopped talking. He darted up the steps and around the corner on the porch. As he rounded the corner, he saw Sarah and Carina side by side on Roxanne's wicker loveseat.

The moment Sarah saw him, her face lit like the sun, making him forget his initial dread about what he'd overheard. She jumped from the seat and rushed forward into his arms, almost hanging from his neck in her excitement. She kissed his cheek, smiling, giving no outward indication she was worried that he had heard them arguing.

Over Sarah's shoulder, Chuck studied Carina's face. She was deep in thought, her lips pursed and her eyes averted. She looked up, making eye contact with Chuck. He couldn't decipher what Carina was trying to communicate wordlessly.

When Sarah finally released Chuck, Carina stepped closer to him, her face neutral again. Carina flashed a crooked grin, then softly punched Chuck's shoulder. "She always thought I was crazy. You know, when I would tell her that you loved her."

"For once, you were right," Sarah chuckled.

Sarah placed her hands on Chuck's lapels. "I'll be right back. I just need to freshen up a bit." Sarah darted inside, brushing past Carina and leaving Chuck alone with her.

"What…uh…what were you two talking about?" Chuck asked casually.

Carina's pale blue eyes narrowed, cautious, as if she were assessing the possibility that Chuck could have overheard. "Oh, you know, just girl talk," she said slowly. She opened her mouth, like she was going to elaborate, but never did.

He thought of mentioning at least some of what he'd heard, hoping she might offer more, an explanation. No, I need to hear the story from Sarah. His whole life had been revealed to him in whispers not meant for his ears. He needed to start fresh with Sarah, now that they were together.

"You know she loves you, right Chuck?" Carina blurted, interrupting his reverie.

He flushed, his skin warm under his collar. Sarah hadn't said it plainly, not the way he had, but that was Sarah's way. His heart soared as he formed the answer, first in his head, and then on his lips. "Yes, I know."

"I know she probably didn't say it, right?" Carina said, crossing her arms. "She's been afraid of telling you that at least since she was 16." She sighed heavily. "But she did. She does. I threatened to kiss you once, you know. Just to try to get her to face it, own it. Of course Bryce screwed it all up," she added with a grumble.

"Wait…what?" he asked.

"Bryce was an asshole," Carina hissed.

Chuck shrugged, noncommittal. But he waved his hand, indicating silently that she needed to explain.

"Who do you think got her drunk?" Carina asked. "That sonofabitch…thinking he could get his hand inside her blouse easier that way...while he was supposed to be my date for her party." She shook her head. "I knew she kissed you. But you didn't take her seriously. You simply thought she was loopy, right?"

It was strange, talking about that moment yet again, now from another perspective. "I thought she was drunk. I would never take advantage of her like that."

Carina's eyes were small, glistening. "No, Chuck, you wouldn't. You were like a dream come true. You still are."

He shifted on his feet, embarrassed at her praise. The silence was awkward between them.

Chuck broke the silence. "Daniel Shaw, Carina?" he asked with a sigh, trying to change the subject.

"What about him?" she challenged, straightening her posture.

"He's dangerous," Chuck warned.

"He's a good scratching post," she said suggestively, making him blush again. "Stiff as a board, but…sometimes a girl needs a wooden spoon every now and again."

"You should be careful, Carina," he advised. "You don't know what a man like that is capable of."

Her eyes went blank for a moment and she shivered. "You'd be surprised at what I know."

"I'm ready," they both heard Sarah say as she breezed through the door onto the porch. She was bubbly and cheery. "What's going on out here?" Sarah asked.

Never taking her eyes off Chuck, Carina answered, "I won't say I told you so. But I told you so. The man loves you, Blondie."

Something profound, a look Chuck didn't fully understand, passed between the two women. Some layer of meaning beyond him.

Sarah's smile froze, the light in her eyes dimming. It was so subtle Chuck was sure no one else but him would have noticed the change. If only he could just read it all, understand this unusual dynamic. He felt weighted with knowledge, information burdening him, things he wanted to tell Sarah but couldn't. He could start tonight, when they were alone, he thought.

"I'll have her back at a decent hour," Chuck said as they turned to walk away.

"Take your time, Chuckles. She doesn't have a curfew. And I have…plans, if you know what I mean," Carina responded. She was teasing, but now Chuck was sure he heard a warning tone in the teasing.

Whatever it was Carina knew, she was actively running interference between Shaw and Sarah. Jack had asked Chuck not to tell Sarah about his agreement with Shaw. If Sarah was unaware, then Chuck assumed Carina was unaware, at least of the specifics. His stomach lurched when he started thinking about Carina and Shaw…what she had learned and how, what she may have been doing in an effort to protect her friend.

As Chuck opened the car door for Sarah and shut it behind her, he told himself, even if she wasn't forthcoming, even if everything wasn't in the open, he needed to get her out of Roxanne's house immediately. As quickly as they could obtain a marriage license.

Jack's final act had been to trust Chuck to not fail Sarah.

He would not fail her, or her father's unasked-for trust.

A/N: Thank you to Zettel for pre-reading, as always.