AFTER

Those cobra eyes

Lie with a smile

Honey you take pride

In the devil down deep inside

"Ways To Be Wicked"

Lone Justice

May 21, 1952

Worcester, Massachusetts

With a hint of trepidation, Chuck gestured for Babinska to follow him into his office. He watched Sarah hesitate, uncertain if she should stay for this discussion, or leave as she had been prepared to do before Hartley had previously asked that she stay.

"Mr. Babinska, this is my wife, Sarah," Chuck offered directly, so Sarah would understand Chuck wanted her to stay.

Babinska bowed his head slightly, his irritation no longer evident. "It's a pleasure." The older man took a step closer. "I know you probably don't remember me. My goodness, you couldn't have been more than three, but my wife, Regina, and your mother were friends. Emma used to bring you round to our house when your father would come out with Sal and me on Friday evenings. All I see when I look at you is Emma. You are ever just as beautiful." His smile faded. "My condolences on the loss of your father, miss."

"Thank you," Sarah said softly, a gentle smile brightening her face, though her eyes were misty.

"Sarah can hear whatever it is you need to say to me, Mr. Babinska. We don't keep secrets from each other," Chuck said firmly, confident at last this was the truth.

Babinska looked wary, but eventually he nodded, then sat in the chair across from Chuck's desk. Chuck perched on one corner of his desk, one foot on the floor, with Sarah standing beside him, her hand on his shoulder.

"Sal asked me to come and talk to you, Charles…uh, Chuck," Babinska corrected, Chuck's nickname an afterthought, awkward with Babinska's Polish accent. "The tornado caused…a lot of problems, for everyone, as you could imagine. Sal was detained in New York longer than he expected, and then, well, you know. There was chaos around here. In some parts of the city, there still is. Sal's been checking on his assets and his people. But he wanted to make sure you knew he didn't forget about you…or what you talked to him about."

Chuck nodded. "Mr. Cipriani sent one of his men to watch my business, and another to watch my home, just as he said he would."

Babinska sighed. "There is a lot I could say about Sal…" He tsked, shook his head, letting whatever he meant go unexplained. "But he keeps his word."

Chuck pressed his lips closed, holding in the question he wanted to ask. Could he trust Cipriani? From what Gertrude had said, Chuck wasn't even sure if Babinska was completely trustworthy. Chuck based everything, all his plans, on the assumption that both men were trustworthy. But with everything? What if Cipriani had asked about Shaw's leverage simply because he wanted it for himself? The man was a gangster, a killer. It went against everything Chuck believed, to trust someone like him.

"I have the information Mr. Cipriani was looking for," Chuck said cautiously. "But…" he sighed, then just blurted it out, "how do I know I can trust him? That he won't just turn on us…that he won't blackmail us with the information?"

Babinska frowned, but his eyebrows raised, like he thought Chuck had a point. It made Chuck's stomach knot as he considered it.

"I can see why you would think that." Babinska rubbed his hand over his mouth before he continued. "If it were anyone else, I would tell you both to watch yourselves. Not give it away. But you aren't anyone else. You are Stephen's son. Sal admired the hell out of your father, Charles." He winced, clearing his throat, an apology for the foul language in front of Sarah.

"His word is good," Babinska said with finality. "But…there is another…problem."

"What problem?" Chuck asked, his anxiety ratcheting up.

Babinska shook his head apologetically. "Shaw bailed. He hasn't reported to the boss since the tornado. Sal has his guys looking...if you know what I mean."

"He bailed? How do you know it wasn't just because of the tornado? What if something happened?" Chuck asked.

Babinska scoffed. "You think that's a bad thing?"

Chuck bristled. "I would never wish harm on anyone, not like that." He felt Sarah's hand squeezing his shoulder, supporting him, as if she admired his lack of malevolence.

Babinska scoffed again, but his face softened, some warm nostalgia in his eyes. "You're definitely your father's son, no question about it. But, still, listen to me. Shaw is an animal. If he's gone underground because he knows what you said to Cipriani…he'll be not only wishing you harm, but planning to do you harm. You two need to watch yourselves."

Chuck felt Sarah leaning into him, her fingers fluttering on his shoulder nervously.

"Cipriani's men are watching us," Chuck murmured, no longer fully comforted by the fact.

"Right. And Shaw might end up forcing Sal's hand, no matter what information you have to tell him." Babinska rose abruptly to his feet. "I just wanted to warn you, that's all."

The older man shifted on his feet, uncomfortable, anxious to leave. Chuck thought there was a chance Babinska's discomfiture was because he himself was afraid of Shaw, that by somehow being around Chuck and Sarah that he was in danger as well as them.

The thought was terrifying.

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Once Babinska departed, the time at the office passed in anxious silence, the only bright spot the discussion Chuck and Sarah had with Roan about adopting Molly. Roan had been confident that the entire process would be speedy. Chuck had worried at first, concerned that Roan would say something, possibly suggesting something scandalous was being masked.

Chuck stood by his defiance of societal expectations, daring people to talk about what Chuck and Sarah were doing. The conversation with Roan was merely the first of many Chuck was beginning to feel defensive about having.

Diane and Roan had been "fraternizing" after Chuck and Sarah's marriage, Chuck recalled. The term was Roan's. Diane knew everything about Sarah's past, but Chuck did not believe Diane would have said anything to Roan. But now, the soft, mysterious smile on Roan's face was strange. He wasn't sarcastic or smirky, but he knew…something…something that he wasn't saying. Chuck let it go, hoping to circle back at some point and ask.

Once Roan had left, Chuck and Sarah left Burton Carmichael to do the necessary shopping for the young toddler soon to be in their home. The shopping trip had been hectic, but still joyous. It helped that finances weren't an issue, that Chuck didn't need to worry about the significant cost of buying everything that they needed all at once. They purchased furniture, decor, clothing, toys, as well as the supplies needed for a one year old child–diapers, bottles, bedding, and so many things Chuck couldn't even remember Sarah taking from the shelf as she said they needed them. The large items were scheduled to be delivered, and everything else was packed into the trunk of Chuck's car.

Now, they were headed home.

"When did you speak to Carina last?" Chuck asked Sarah, once they were in the car, the worry he had told himself to put aside returning.

"Not for a while, Chuck. The phone's been out. I think you saw her before I did," Sarah said. "Why are you asking?"

Chuck's nerves were jangling. "Because of what Morgan said, about Carina's plan to tell Shaw they were done. Do you think she talked to Shaw before he disappeared?" Chuck asked. Sarah had been so happy for Carina, for her good news about her relationship with Morgan, that the consequences of Carina's break up with Shaw hadn't sunk in last evening when Chuck and Sarah had talked. But now combined with what Babinska had told them, the entire situation was worrisome, and it began to worry Sarah.

Chuck felt Sarah stiffen beside him, hearing her breath straining. "I…don't…I don't know," she said slowly, questions in her voice. The same trouble was now on her mind.

"Gertrude said the phone should be working sometime today. We can call Carina the second we get home."

Sarah was tense the rest of the ride, close to him on the seat, but no longer at ease.

"Where is Casey's car?" Chuck asked rhetorically, as he pulled into his driveway.

"Did he mention having any plans? Errands or something?" Sarah asked. She leaned forward, gazing out through the windshield at the house. "There aren't any lights on in the house. Is Gertrude home?"

It was unusual, the darkness in the house, but not unheard of. There was nothing specific Chuck could reference to understand why, but he had a strange sense of foreboding…that something was wrong. He couldn't shake it. Still, he tried to rationalize. "It's dinnertime. They should both be home. Although, if something came up, and the phone wasn't repaired yet, there wouldn't have been any way for them to let us know."

They both got out of the car together. "I'll wait until Casey is back to unload the car. He can help lug all the packages."

The house appeared as if it had been vacant for several hours. The kitchen was immaculate, not a dish or glass out of place. Gertrude had cleaned up after lunch, and hadn't yet started on dinner. Normally, she started cooking dinner at four, so that it would be ready when Chuck got home from work. That meant Gertrude had been out for two hours at least. It was odd, adding to the ominous darkness creeping around his heart.

"Did she leave a note?" Sarah asked, glancing around the kitchen, on the countertops and the table near the telephone. Sarah walked to the telephone, lifted the receiver and held it to her ear. "There's still no dial tone. I thought the repairs were done."

Sarah hurried past him, on her way to check the phone in the living room to test if it was the device or the service for the entire house that was disrupted.

"They were."

Chuck reeled at the sound, a stranger's voice coming from the darkness of the living room. It only took a second for the sound to register.

Daniel Shaw.

Instinctively, Chuck rushed forward, grabbing Sarah and pulling her behind him, shielding her from the direction of the voice, as he heard her gasp in dismay.

From the pitch black, a shadow emerged. "That's why I had to cut them," Shaw said, his voice low and menacing. He emerged, the faint light in the kitchen illuminating his form.

How had he gotten in the house? The door Chuck and Sarah had entered through was undamaged. Had Gertrude somehow let him in?

He had a gun, a small shiny revolver, pointed at them both. He was still wearing a suit, charcoal gray, but it was wrinkled, unkempt, like his hair. No longer slicked back, it was wild about his head, every strand askew. His black eyes were soulless, empty and his lips were curled into a cruel sneer. Three red, jagged, bloody scratches were visible on one cheek.

Who had scratched him?

"Did you think I wouldn't find out, Bartowski?" he growled. He advanced farther into the room, the revolver leveled at Chuck's chest. "Spilled your heart out to my boss…hoping he'd solve all your problems for you, huh?" He stopped moving forward, pressing the business end of the revolver against Chuck's breastbone.

Chuck's greatest fear, as he stood there, wasn't even for himself. He worried what would happen to Sarah if Shaw shot him here…what would happen to Sarah if she was forced to watch Shaw murder her husband in cold blood.

His mind was racing, trying to think of some way he could get out of the situation, an escape, anything he could do to gain the upper hand.

Where was Cipriani's man? Where was Gertrude? Dear God, was Gertrude actually here…hurt…or…worse?

Chuck's desperation interfered with his critical thinking, his ability to problem-solve. It all cycled through him in a split second as he stood there, his life flashing before his eyes. He could feel the cool metal of the gun through the thin layer of fabric covering his chest.

Shaw pressed the gun harder. "I went straight to the top, you know. Iaconi. I went around Cipriani…so I could tell Iaconi the truth. Come clean. Thinking the money was too good, too easy. That he could profit from my blackmail. And your pockets are certainly deep."

"You don't get a dollar of extortion from me if you kill me, Shaw," Chuck growled, deep and low, his voice rumbling in his chest. Why am I asking to be blackmailed? Chuck railed.

"But that's just it… Chuck," Shaw growled, hatred filling his voice. "I don't get anything. Iaconi turned his back on me! After everything I've done, all the money I've made him. He put me out of the family! You and I both know what happens next." His dark eyes flashed, anger and hatred hovering in a cloud around him. The same face Chuck had seen on Sarah's doorstep the night of Jack's suicide.

Oh…God…

"So I came here…to take what is owed to me. What's mine."

Shaw kept the gun flush with Chuck's chest and reached behind Chuck, grabbing Sarah's wrist and yanking her forward. Chuck flailed, blocking Shaw's grasp with his body, trying to protect Sarah, to keep Shaw from touching her.

"Chuck, don't," Sarah shrieked, fearful for her husband's safety. Shaw moved the gun, now pressing it hard underneath Chuck's jaw. Chuck froze, afraid for a moment Sarah was going to watch Shaw blow his head off in front of her.

While Chuck stood frozen, Shaw gripped Sarah's wrist and pulled her forward again, making her stumble. Chuck could see the red streaks under Shaw's fingers, as his grip pinched her skin.

"I'm going to fuck your wife while you watch. And then she's going to watch me kill you."

He heard Sarah growl angrily, softly, even as she bit it back. Her eyes were blazing, angry and terrified at the same time. She was afraid for him, not for herself, he thought, as his heart pounded painfully behind his breastbone.

"But don't worry. She'll be joining you…very soon afterward."

Shaw jerked Sarah towards him, her body crashing against his. She flailed away, but deftly, without moving the gun from under Chuck's chin, Shaw cupped the back of Sarah's head roughly, a fistful of her hair in his hand.

Chuck felt disconnected from his body. His brain was screaming… do something!...but he was paralyzed, unable to move, afraid the tiniest movement would provoke Shaw to cause more harm.

With his firm grip on her hair, Shaw pulled her face close to his and whispered loud enough for Chuck to hear. "Carina told me she won't fuck me any more. She's more interested in that puny little bearded wimp. What's left of him." He laughed harshly, bitterly.

A grisly, horrifying vision of what Shaw had done…what he meant by those words…assaulted Chuck. Morgan, Carina, Gertrude…they all could already be dead. Dead.

Please, God, help me.

Chuck watched in horror as Shaw's hand slid from the back of Sarah's neck to the front, his fingers curling murderously around her throat. His hand lingered, malevolently. So quickly the motion was a blur, Shaw's hand moved down, tearing the front of Sarah's dress, exposing her pale skin and her white lace bra under her dress.

The other hand moved just as quickly, up and down, a cobra-like strike. The gun cracked against the back of Chuck's skull, causing an explosion of fiery pain so intense, for a moment he couldn't breathe; then the dark pulled him down. He was unconscious before his body hit the ground in a crumpled heap.

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Chuck willed himself awake, the struggle in the blind darkness taking all his strength, all his energy.

Getupgetupgetupgetup….

He was shouting, screaming inside his head, sensing the urgency, but not remembering the reason why. Only that he needed to wake up… wake up…

His surroundings came into focus in bits and pieces. The cold hardwood floor under his head, the coarse oriental rug under his hand. He forced his eyes open, pushing past the pain as he did so. The light was dim and still it stabbed his eyes like daggers. The coffee table was beside him, above him, a distorted shadow.

Sarah…screaming, crying…

He could hear Sarah and Shaw struggling, fabric tearing…

Move….move!

Chuck didn't think, he couldn't think. He forced his body to obey, the motion robotic, disconnected from his brain. He looked from the floor, upwards toward the sofa, where Shaw had Sarah pinned beneath him. She was fighting him with all her strength, her fists flying, her legs kicking. The gun…the gun was… on the floor…

He needed both hands to hold her still, Chuck thought in disgust.

Desperately, as quickly as he could move, still slightly dazed, he lunged, grabbing for Shaw. Chuck and Shaw fell onto the floor, a writhing mass of arms and legs. Dazed, his head pounding, Chuck fought as best he could. He took a blow to his jaw, a sharp jab in his side.

Out of the corner of his eye, Chuck saw Sarah move, scrambling from the sofa. She held the torn shreds of her dress closed with her bruised and bloodied hand. Her eyes were wild, panicked, her face red and streaked with tears. Sarah reached for the lamp on the end table, swinging it like a bat and crashing it over Shaw's head.

He slumped, collapsing onto the floor beside Chuck.

Chuck's head was pounding, his vision blurry, but he moved towards Sarah.

Shaw recovered just as quickly from Sarah's blow as Chuck had from his, staggering to his feet, at the same moment as Chuck was pulling Sarah towards him. In a flash of motion, Chuck saw Shaw reaching for the gun…

Acting, reacting, without a conscious thought, Chuck tucked his body over Sarah's, shielding her from Shaw and his gun.

A loud blast, a gunshot, the loudest sound Chuck had ever heard, deafened him. His eyes were closed, bracing for his own death. The sound was incongruous, much too loud for a revolver. Chuck heard the tinkling patter as the plaster from the ceiling rained down on them. No pain.

What in the world?

"That's enough!"

Chuck turned, cautiously, not releasing Sarah from his grip. Her breath was ragged, wheezing as she breathed. Her muscles were taut like wire and her entire body was trembling. When he lifted his head, looking over his shoulder, his mouth gaped open in surprise.

Gertrude.

She had a double barreled shotgun poised in her hand, and apparently she had already fired it into the ceiling. Chuck had never seen her handle a gun, let alone fire it. The sight of her, threatening Daniel Shaw with a shotgun, stupefied him.

Gertrude's eyes were on fire, her mouth set in a grim line, her teeth gritted. Was she going to shoot him?

Shaw straightened his pants, slowly, while Gertrude had the gun trained on him. He was moving slowly, inching, and then he lunged, pushing past Gertrude as he bolted for the front door.

She let him go, Chuck thought, sure the woman who had helped raise him was incapable of using the gun she was wielding for anything other than defense. She had let him run away, and now they were alone.

Sarah collapsed against him, crying hysterically. Forgetting everything else, Chuck knelt at her feet. Close to her, he saw the deep red lines on her neck, sure they would turn to ugly purple bruises. Her dress, and her bra, were torn open, and there were bleeding scratches on the parts of her breasts he could see.

The thought of Shaw's hands on her, touching her where only Chuck was allowed to touch her, made the bile rise into his throat. Chuck didn't know how long he had been unconscious on the floor, how far Shaw's rape had progressed.

"Sarah," he breathed, panting, struggling to keep his voice level. "Did he…" He couldn't finish, the thought and the pictures in his mind unbearable.

Thankfully, she knew what he was asking. "No," she answered, her voice just a whisper, but her head shook violently back and forth. "No."

He squeezed his eyes shut, relieved tears streaming from his eyes. When he opened them, he saw a trickle of blood on one side of Sarah's mouth, the flesh over her cheekbone discolored on the same side. Shaw struck her…

"Gertrude, call Dr. Woodcomb," Chuck called as he heard her moving behind him.

"Chuck–" Gertrude started breathlessly.

"Where were you? And when did you learn to shoot a shotgun?" Chuck asked in disbelief, spinning to address her.

"John showed me, before he left for the war. Single woman in a house alone…he wanted us to be safe," she answered, leaning the gun against the fireplace brick, then rushing towards them.

"We went to Roxanne's," Gertrude said, answering the other question, kneeling beside Chuck. Her voice wavered, trembling, full of dread.

"What?" he asked frantically, as Sarah shifted uncomfortably, holding the shreds of her clothing in place. He recalled his fear, worrying what Shaw had done at Roxanne's.

"Shaw went there…before he came here. He went after Carina. Roxanne was…catatonic, but Bolonia said he…hurt her." She closed her eyes, her frown deepening as the painful scene played behind her closed eyelids. "Chuck, he almost killed Morgan…maybe broke his skull. They called for an ambulance." She paused, gulping, knowing her words were painful. "Shaw took Carina with him when he left. John stayed there after he called the police. I…know I shouldn't have, but I drove back over here. John called the police, but I was worried they wouldn't make it on time…and I was right."

Gertrude, who didn't know how to drive…

The volcano of rage finally erupted inside him. His knuckles were white on the arms of the chair as he pulled himself to his feet.

Carina, Morgan…Sarah…

For one frightening moment, Chuck thought, if he had known the damage Shaw had already done to the people he cared about…he might not have been as restrained as Gertrude had been with the gun.

Chuck turned, watching Gertrude dab at the blood dripping from Sarah's lip.

"You said he took Carina…but then he came here. Where is she?" Chuck asked out loud.

Did he kill her, dump her body somewhere? The cold, freezing dread seized him.

"Chuck," Sarah gasped, pulling away from Gertrude's hands as she tended to her wounds, shuddering as she struggled to speak. "Molly."

A/N: Thank you to Zettel for pre-reading. Three more chapters and an epilogue...