Critical Hellfire

By Steampunk . Chuckster

Summary: Chuck and Morgan are co-hosts of a locally popular streaming channel in which they discuss all things metal while playing video games. Their lives are uprooted when their demo guy hands them THE demo of the ages—a band called Critical Hellfire, fronted by singer and bassist Sarah Walker. AU Charah.

A/N: Thanks, everybody!

Disclaimer: I don't own CHUCK or any of its characters. I don't own any of the songs mentioned in this chapter, this fic, or anywhere else for that matter. I am making absolutely zero dollars writing and posting this.

Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose tiredly. "If you want to just text me the details about where you want us to be, we'll be on the road within an hour."

At this point, she was past hiding her annoyance with the producer who was handing them a shot at success, but this was the thirteenth call from him in two days. And between calls coming in from Cole Barker, calls she was forced to take unfortunately, and calls coming in from Chuck Bartowski, calls she refused to take, she was absolutely fucking finished with men.

"Of course, of course. I will. I'm just making sure you don't need anything else from me, Sarah."

"Nope, I'm set." Just like she was set the other nine times he'd called since last night. Jesus.

"Good. Well, I'm sending the limo for you. I was thinking you and I could drive into Joshua Tree together, really nail down the details of the music video shoot. My driver will pick you up, say around four? And then he'll swing by here. I'm at the office, just squaring away some business. Busy, busy… ha ha. And—"

"No, that's all right," she cut him off, frowning.

"Pardon?"

"I'd like to take the van with the band. We really have a lot we need to talk about, the four of us. And I'd prefer whatever details need to be nailed down get nailed down there with all four of us hearing it. I'm bad at relaying info like that. Hah."

She wasn't stupid, and this felt like an unnecessary venture. An unnecessary venture for her, and maybe not so much for him. Which made her feel extremely uneasy.

"Oh. Well. If that's what you'd prefer…"

"It is. Please."

"The limo would be much more comfortable for the road trip."

"I'm sure it would be. But it's around two hours. We've driven longer distances in our good ol' Metal Wagon."

"Metal Wagon. Ha. That's cute. I like it. You're very funny, Miss Sarah."

She furrowed her brow. That wasn't exactly…funny. But okay. "…Thanks. Uh, just let me know where to be and I'll make sure we get there."

"I'll send you the info now."

"Okay, thanks."

"And see you in a few hours. Can't wait to show you all where you'll be staying while we shoot."

"Yeah. Okay. See you."

She hung up quickly. She hoped that was the last call. Because she was fucking exhausted with this shit. Call after call after call. She might as well turn her phone off. Her finger was hovering over the power button when it rang again.

"AAGGGHHHHHHH!" she yelled angrily, looking at it.

Chuck again.

Fuck that. She didn't have time for the relationship drama shit and she definitely didn't have time for someone who didn't think the band was talented enough to get anywhere without Sarah taking advantage of straight men in powerful positions wanting to have sex with her.

She got the text from Cole with all of the information they needed soon after that and she went back to where the band was gathering their gear and piling it by the huge warehouse window, as well as their suitcases. Or, in Dylan's case, one backpack. Because "Anything that doesn't fit in here, I don't need." Weirdo.

"Everything okay?" Rizzo asked.

"Yeah. If Cole calls me one more fucking time, I'm going to scream in his ear."

"Why is he up your ass so much? God!" Mac came around with his cymbals in hand, setting them at the doors.

"Mhm, he has all of our numbers. But Saaarah's the only one he wants to talk tooooo," Dylan drawled, popping in through the doors to start lifting things into the van and packing it up.

Sarah glared at him, a genuine glare, and they all seemed to get the message.

Cut it the hell out.

"So what was it this time?" Zondra hoisted an amp into her arms.

"He needed to tell me he's going to send the information about where we're gonna be. Instead of just…doing it? Like, just send me the fucking text. I don't need a call telling me he's sending it. Obnoxious." She shook her head. "But it sounds like we've all got our own rooms for the night, so that's at least cool," she chirped with a lightness she didn't feel for some reason.

Some reason. Ha. She knew the reason.

Ever since those words came out of Chuck's mouth, and the hurt and the tears they brought with them, it was like Sarah had been picked up from the path she was on and dropped onto a different path that was covered with rocks and debris. Everything felt off-center. It was like she was trapped in a Twilight Zone episode.

She needed to get herself back on track somehow, back into the real world, and she was decided on the plan to pretend none of it was bothering her. That always worked.

It definitely always worked. Without fail.

Probably.

She needed to push the voicemail he left for her out of her head and out of her heart. She would deal with all of that later. Whatever apologies he had in him, whatever groveling he meant to do, however he meant to make it up to her… She didn't know what she would do about any of it, what she would decide. What if forgiving him put her in yet another bad relationship with bad patterns, with yet another boyfriend who made her feel bad, worthless, talentless?

All she knew was that she couldn't do anything about it until after this shoot. Then she would answer his calls. Then she could think about all of this, clear-headed, devote the thought it needed. She would talk to him about how he made her feel and then go from there.

"Heeeeeyyyyy, our own rooms?! That's money," Mac exclaimed, and then he ducked out of the warehouse to head for the van. He tossed over his shoulder, "I'm taking the biggest one! I have the most luggage!"

"He's right. Why does he have two suitcases for something that's gonna take two to three days tops?" Zondra asked, throwing her hands up.

"I'm gonna help Mac load the stuff," Sarah said then, shoving her phone in her pocket, following the drummer and leaving Zondra and Dylan inside.

}o{

He didn't know how to get through to her.

It felt like a year had passed since that shitty morning when he'd been so awful and unfair, lashing out at the person who deserved it the least. It had only been a few days.

But for the month plus that he'd known her now, he'd talked to her every single day in some way or another, texting, talking on the phone, going on dates, having "sleepovers", as Sarah called them…the adorable dork. She was so proud of herself every time she said it and it made him laugh.

Chuck had tried not to call more than a handful of times, and he'd only texted once. A quick, "Please call me. We should talk. I'm sorry."

She'd ignored it all. She'd ignored his voicemail, probably deleted it without listening to it. And it was pretty deserved, he had to admit. Still, he wanted just one more chance. He couldn't help feeling like he deserved at least that.

Even if he understood if she refused to give it to him.

If only she'd give him the chance to talk to her, apologize genuinely. She could decide what to do then… But he needed to see her and at least explain to her how clear it was to him that he'd fucked up. Badly.

He was also aware of how focus-driven Sarah Walker was. She had a one track mind. And especially with their music video shoot on the horizon, she was likely focusing all of her attentions and energy there. He didn't blame her for that, either.

This was a dream that was years in the making. She wouldn't let it get derailed by a stupid boy with his stupid mouth. A stupid boy she'd only known a little over a month.

Still, the stupid boy was a few steps closer to another way of making this band's dreams come true. One that wasn't a music video shoot in the desert somewhere that would get them on a TV commercial for a car that looked like an ugly little toaster.

Putting four heads together had proved to be very effective. And now they just had to wait for a response to the random email they sent into the ethos with the hopes that someone important might feel bad for them. Someone with a lot of pull could see that email and be inspired to do a good deed. Maybe…

Chuck went into his phone contacts. He'd slotted all of the Critical Hellfire bandmates' numbers into their own little folder titled their band name. Including Sarah's number. His own little way of being the Anti-Cole. It was petty, trivial, stupid…but he did it anyway. Sarah was in the band, part of the band. Fuck that guy. He had a one track mind too, and Sarah was at the finish line. Fucking prick didn't care if Dylan, Mac, and Zondra got steamrolled along the way.

But Sarah did care about Dylan, Mac, and Zondra. And that was why he needed to talk to her.

He needed her to know that for some people, her band was worth fighting for. Not just her. The band.

He needed her to know that was the way it was for him. He loved her with every fibre of his being…and also, he wanted Critical Hellfire's name etched across the metal stars.

And so.

Chuck Bartowski would resort to the thing he told Ellie he wouldn't do. Under pain of death. He was calling one of Sarah's bandmates to see if they might… Shit, they might what exactly? Vouch for him to her? She'd then be even more pissed at Chuck, and also pissed at one of her bandmates. And that would fuck up the vibe of their performance for the music video—something that was going to dictate the future of their band.

He didn't want to do that.

But his fingers dialed Dylan's cell number anyway.

"This is stupid," he breathed as he lifted the phone to his ear. "You're so stupid, Chuck. God damn it…"

After the third ring there was a click, a bit of silence, and then a tentative. "Hi. Uhhh…Chuck, maaaaybe—" His voice cut off and Chuck heard a muffled, female hiss of, "Is that Chuck? Are you serious right now, Dyl?!"

"What? Sarah's outside. Maybe it's an emergency…"

"The emergency is that we have a music video shoot tomorrow and I don't wanna get stuck in a two hour drive with a seriously pissed off Sarah Walker because you talked to the guy who hurt her on the phone."

Chuck frowned. The guy who hurt her. That was who he was now. That felt terrible, and it was accurate, and he felt like such an asshole.

"This is my phone. I can—"

"Give it to me. Give it. I'll deal with this. You help Sarah and Mac. Keep her busy out there. Do not under any circumstances tell her."

Chuck winced hard through the whole thing, pushing his free hand into his hair and bracing himself. Because when her voice came back, she had the phone against her face and he was positive she would let him fucking have it.

"What on Stevie Nicks's green earth are you thinking calling one of us, Chuck?" she asked. "She isn't answering her phone so you call us? Right now? When we're about to do this music video shoot? Dude!"

"I know. I was waffling about whether it was a good idea."

"Well, you should've listened to the side of the waffle that said not to call one of us."

"She isn't answering, not even my texts. I had to…"

"You didn't have to," she said calmly. He was almost more weirded out by how calm she was. "I get it, dude. You said something shitty." So Sarah told Zondra what he'd said. She'd probably told all of them. God, they all hated him now. And he didn't blame them at all. "And she's pissed off and hurt, and now you're stuck in this place where you can't do anything about it. I'm sure it's all you can think about, right?"

That was…strangely understanding, considering everything. "Yeah. Pretty much. I just want to apologize to her. A genuine apology. For being such a childish bastard, lashing out at her when she didn't deserve it. It was bullshit and I need her to know that I know, and that it-it won't ever happen again."

The guitarist sighed. "Listen, man. Sarah's always been…an enigma. Okay? Like, mystery woman deluxe. Don't try to fuckin' get what's in her head, what she's feelin', 'cause no dice." Didn't he know that all too well. "It's such a trope, but she's buried herself in bad relationships. Over and over and over again, she runs to shitty dudes who say shitty things and make her feel like she isn't worth lickin' their leather boots." She paused. "Now imagine, for once, she gets stuck on this guy who isn't like that. And she lets herself get stuck on 'im. Because she doesn't have to clean up after him, nurse his hangovers every morning, or brush off the trash bullshit and the bottomless pits of jealousy he douses her with. She doesn't have to worry about him getting in a fight in the alley with some other guy because that guy looked at her on stage for too long. Finally, she's stuck on a guy who lets her just focus on her band, have fun, and not stress over whether he's screwing some other girl and that's why he's not at her gig he said he'd be at…"

Chuck slumped against his bed, still sitting on the floor of his bedroom where he'd been for a good hour just trying to get his thoughts in order. He knew where this was going and he wanted to crawl underneath the bed, into the dark, with the monsters, and just stay there. Forever.

"Now imagine that guy she lets herself get stuck on makes her trust him, lulls her into a place where she feels like none of that bad shit is gonna happen. Because he's a good one. Maybe it isn't fair to place all that on your shoulders, man, but she did. And then you fucked it. And because she trusted you not to be that way, it hurt her even worse when you threw it back in her face. You did that. No matter what kind of shit she's done, 'cause she sure as shit isn't perfect either, you have to face the fact that you fucked up, Chuck. Face it, chew on it, and figure out from there how to fix it with her."

Tilting his head back, he blinked at the ceiling. Nobody had laid it out so starkly like this yet. Ellie probably wanted to, only she held back because she didn't want to hurt him. His chest was aching. He'd hurt Sarah worse than he knew, probably. Because he had established himself as a "good guy" in her life, not like those "bad guys" like Christian. Then he insinuated she hops into bed with powerful guys to get her band gigs. Accidentally, he'd insinuated it. But it didn't matter if it was an accident, because it hit her just as hard as if he'd done it on purpose.

"I'm sorry," he breathed.

"Uh, thanks? But I don't think I'm the one you should say sorry to…" Zondra cleared her throat then. "Unless you decide to keep doing this calling, calling, calling again, texting, calling yet again, and finally calling her bandmates thing before we shoot this music video. Because if it fucks with her vibe enough to ruin this shoot, then yeah, you will owe me an apology then."

Chuck frowned deeply. "Is that your way of saying stop contacting her?"

"Yes. I'm tryin' to be nice with you here, though, man. We're headed out to Joshua Tree now 'cause we're going to start filming in the morning out at this thing called Skull Rock or whatever. Sarah is really good at focusing on what's important, and nothing's more important than this band and getting the most out of this opportunity for us, ya know?"

"No, I know. I know that's her top priority. Absolutely. And-And it should be."

"Please don't contact her until after the shoot…? Please? We all need our heads completely focused on this. It's huge for all of us. If you're hacking away at her thoughts, calling all the time, it's gonna throw her off her A-Game."

She let that sit there in silence for a few long moments, and he did, too. Then he nodded. "I understand. You know, I-I want this for you guys. Success. You deserve it. Even with how much I hate the Barker bastard's entire existence with every bit of my soul, I want this to be great for Critical Hellfire." And that was why he was dropping so much time and effort into this plan of theirs to find a better break for Critical Hellfire.

But he'd also heard Zondra drop "Joshua Tree" and "Skull Rock" into the conversation, and an idea popped into his head.

"So you wont call her to fix all this 'til after?"

"I won't call her 'til after the shoot," he said, wondering if that was a whole lie or just half of a lie. Maybe it wasn't a lie at all. Lying by omission? That wasn't as bad.

"Thank you."

"Thank you," he said immediately. "Thanks for being honest with me, Zondra. Really. Thank you for taking the time to genuinely talk to me, telling me what I need to hear, not what I…probably wanted to hear, honestly. The fact that you did this, especially as Sarah's best friend and all? Well, it means a lot. Thanks for that respect."

She seemed to not know what to say to that, so he decided to just do the work for her.

"Drive safe, huh? And thanks again."

"Uh…yeah. Yeah, take care, man."

Chuck hung up, setting the phone down on the floor next to him.

A small smile grew on his face. Zondra hadn't exactly told him to go fuck himself, so maybe…just maybe…he had a chance?

"CHUCK!"

He jumped, spinning to look as he heard his sister's heavy footsteps clambering down the hallway. His door was swung open almost violently and she appeared, beaming. Morgan and Awesome's heads popped around the corner behind her like a couple of groundhogs. They were beaming just as hard.

Chuck climbed up from the floor, pocketing his phone. "Oh my God, they emailed us back?"

"THEY EMAILED US BACK!" Morgan pushed past Ellie, leaping into the air, clattering into Chuck's body. Chuck caught him, eyes wide.

"Okay, who exactly…?"

"Morgan, get off of him so we can show him," Ellie admonished, and Morgan hopped back down, seeming pretty damn giddy. What gold had they struck with that email?

Awesome came in with Chuck's laptop, setting it on the end of his bed, looking a little Vanna White-ish as he then gestured at it.

"So we sent that email out to MetalMania's agency, right? Telling them all about how we got promoted onto Recruit Emperors, only for CB Productions to hack us down at the knees, fire us from our own channel, and steal the show right out from under us."

"Yeah, dude. I wrote it, remember?" Chuck gave his best friend a look.

Morgan rushed on as if Chuck hadn't said anything. "I wasn't sure anyone would see it, what with all the metalheads sending them emails with demos and who knows what else, yeah? Not only was it seen, but look who responded." He tapped Chuck's laptop screen with his whole finger which made Chuck wince a little but he could just clean it later.

Kneeling down over the laptop, he took in the email and nearly fainted. "H'oohhh. Oh my God. Jake Horne? The Jake Horne?" They were all freaking out around him and he violently shook his hands through the air with a, "Shh shhh shhh shh! Lemme read the email again!"

He wiped his eyes cartoonishly and leaned even closer, losing his breath entirely as he read.

Dear Chuck and Morgan,

You won't believe this but Dan Proctor and I haven't missed a single Games N Rock Sessions show for the last year and a half. Popcorn and all, we sit and watch your purely LA show with your purely LA audience and crack the fuck up. I even bought "my kids" a PS5 for Christmas so that "they" could play all the games you two play. (I wait til they go to sleep and suck ass at the games for hours til my partner tells me to get the fuck to bed) Dan and I were watching the stream the other night when it cut off early after that douchebag dating book sponsor ad. Glad you dragged his ass, we were howling at the jokes at his expense, what a nasty git. Sorry to hear those producers cut you guys off from your own show. Can't believe they were pissed at the GnR antics. What's more metal than telling douchebags to fuck off? Anyway you asked us for help. Not sure how we can help, but if you have ideas, we'll hear 'em. In meetings til 6 LA time, then maybe a video chat?

Solidarity,

Jake Horne

"The producers of MetalMania watch our show?!" Chuck screeched, hopping up and down and squealing. Morgan grabbed his hands and jumped with him.

God damn. This was a moment.

And then like a bucket of cold water over his head, he realized something and stopped jumping. "Well. They did watch our show. The show that's no more."

"It was no more," Morgan insisted. "But Captain Awesome's brain gymnastics figured out a little loophole in that there shitty contract. Maybe we can get it back. And if not, well…if we get it back just this once for Critical Hellfire to get their spotlight and we have to figure out somethin' else moving forward? Then…it was worth it. Right?" He held up his hand.

Chuck swung his own hand around and clasped it in the air between them, squeezing. "Totally worth it."

"What time is it? Shit! It's almost four! It's almost four! We have to get down to the basement and set up for our video chat with Jake and Dan. Oh my God, MetalMania. Jake and Dan. JAKE AND DAN, CHUCK!"

Ellie and Devon stood off to the side with their arms around one another. "Do you know what's happening?" she asked her boyfriend.

"It's Jake and Dan, Ellie."

"You know who Jake and Dan are?"

"It's MetalMania! METALMANIA, ELLIE!"

"I'm going to go down to the basement to make sure that carpet's being laid out right and the acoustic panels are straight," she said, giving them all a flat look as she moved to the door. "But uh…word of advice, boys?" They all looked at her. "Maybe email your new friend Jake back? So that you can actually set up the video chat?"

"OH SHIT! WE HAVE TO EMAIL HIM BACK!"

"Oh God, I can't," she droned, leaving them behind.

A/N: Zondra's a real one.

Please review if you can. Thanks!

-SC