A/N: For anyone out there still reading (and writing) Chuck fics, this is a little Christmas fic I've been wanting to post and it's finally the season for it. I've always thought that Chuck made peace with Sarah way too quickly after the Mauser incident, and this is my way of attempting to fill in a little more of what Chuck was processing. While also still staying cannon consistent.
It was still the dead of night when Chuck left for Castle, grey-eyed and jittery, practically bouncing in the cramped Herder as he cruised along the sleepy Burbank roads. The sky was dark and silent and uneasy.
He had woken up with an unshakable urge to see Sarah's report from the Fulcrum incident on Christmas Eve. Not that it mattered. It wouldn't change the fact that Mauser was dead. And that Sarah had lied to him about about it. But maybe if he could see her official statement in stark black and white, he could at least feel like the ground wasn't shifting beneath his feet.
When Chuck got to Castle, he headed straight to the steel cabinet housing the files from Operation Bartowski. He pulled open one heavy drawer after another, his fingers tracing along the expansive archive. When he found the most recent file dated three weeks ago, his heart sank. Nothing on Mauser yet.
Chuck pulled out a stack of documents and stared hard at it, as if he could size up by weight and thickness how many other deadly little secrets they held. He sat at the conference table, hunching over the mess of papers. None of the words registered. He cradled his head with one hand, while the other idly fiddled with a paper clip until it became a useless mangled lump that would never hold anything together again. Still, that paper clip was in better shape than him.
"Morning, Chuck," Sarah's voice struck him suddenly, the sound flying across the long conference table from a space he could swear was empty just a second ago. His head whipped up so fast he dropped the paper clip with a light ting on the floor.
"M-Morning," he stammered back.
She was wearing leggings and a sports bra in matching pastel blues. Her skin was shining from a fresh coat of sweat. Chuck told himself that the spike in his heart rate was because Sarah startled him, and not because her outfit clung like nothing and the sight of her drove his imagination to inappropriate places.
"You're here early," Sarah said, catching her breath.
"Couldn't sleep," Chuck swallowed. An understatement. He hadn't had a sound night's sleep since before the Intersect and Sarah Walker had taken up permanent residence in his head. But the last few nights had left him restless and edgy.
Every waking moment he'd been haunted by images from Christmas Eve, almost as intrusive as one of his flashes: Sarah standing amongst the pine trees, towering over Mauser's lifeless body, wearing a satisfied smile as she gripped her gun. And in his dreams, all Chuck could do was watch wordlessly as everything unfolded again in slow motion, and a sickening chill crept into his blood. He woke up nearly every night that week shaking and soaked through his shirt.
Sarah, on the other hand, seemed unfazed by what happened. The woman in the pines had vanished, and the one that replaced her was the woman playing the part of his loving girlfriend to his family and friends. She entered his home on Christmas Day spilling over with compassion for their shared ordeal at the Buy More. Dangling from her wrist was his mother's charm bracelet. He felt like a fool for giving her that bracelet. When Ellie caught sight of it again, she gave him a look so full of sisterly joy that it sent Chuck deeper into his own head, where he spent the majority of the evening quietly combusting.
Sarah looked at him from across the conference table in Castle's main bay, a mix of confusion and skepticism creasing her forehead. "You couldn't sleep, so you thought you'd get an early start on some paperwork?"
Chuck shifted in his seat, then shifted back once he realized his new position was less comfortable.
"I was hoping the monotony of it would lull me to sleep." His chuckle came out more forced than he intended.
Sarah stood there stiffly crossing her arms for moment, until her posture melted and she stepped over to his side of the table, leaning against it to face him. "I'll take care of the report on Ned and the Buy More. Get some rest."
Chuck caught her eyes and held them for beat. They betrayed nothing. If he didn't know any better, he wouldn't have thought twice about her suggestion. He wouldn't imagine for a second she was keeping anything from him.
He wanted to say something. He felt his heart race as a hundred questions jumped into his throat and died there. But it was too early and he was too tired and he didn't feel like being lied to again.
Instead, he nodded and started toying with the papers in front him him, folding and unfolding tiny corners with his fingernail.
"Everything okay?" Sarah asked, tilting her head to look at him closely. His eyes, unlike hers, must have given everything away. He knew if she wanted information from him, she would get it. She always did. He would eventually tell her everything.
"Yeah. All good." He managed a half smile.
Sarah went quiet again, staring off in the direction past her shoulder while her fingers drummed on the table at her sides.
"It gets easier," she said, looking back at him. "Being able to sleep, that is."
Chuck felt a terrible lump weigh down his insides. One day, watching Sarah kill someone wouldn't bother him at all. One day this would all feel normal.
He sighed and shook his head, leaning over the table. "I don't want it to get easier. I just want to go back to when I didn't have the Intersect in my head. I want to stop worrying that someone will come looking for me or my family because of it."
"I want that, too. If there's a way to get the Intersect out, we'll find it," Sarah's expression shifted. Hardened briefly, then softened again. She placed a hand on his arm and left it there a little too long. She had been doing things like that a lot lately. Standing too close, holding his eyes, being generous with a comforting touch. He had been trying not to work himself up over all these non-moments. But his heart pounded all the same. Screaming himself awake every night wasn't enough to break free from the undercurrent of whatever was still between them.
She took back her hand and slid away from him. Chuck let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Sarah's gaze fixated on the floor and they were both still and quiet.
"I know," he said softly, "I know you'll find a way. I've already starting making plans for when I'm Intersect-free."
"Oh? What's that?" She asked, a smile crawling across her face.
"Travel," he looked at her briefly, and her smile softened. "I've always wanted to see how far I can get on a Eurorail pass. Partly because I like trains. But mostly because it's what I can afford on my combined salary from the Buy More and the CIA. Did you know the CIA compensates me in near-death experiences? Great for tax deductions, but I don't think I can convert them to Euros…"
Sarah bit her lip as she chuckled. Chuck was mildly disappointed he couldn't coax a full laugh out of her, the hearty kind that made her shoulders shake. But a chuckle was good. He could make it to lunch on her chuckle.
"Anyway, that was the plan," he told her, "back when we had the cipher and I thought I was done with the spy life."
Sarah stayed quiet. She seemed perfectly comfortable with silence in a way that unnerved Chuck.
He started to fidget. "I, uh, was going to ask you to come with me."
"To Europe?" Sarah asked.
He nodded, "Would you have? Come with me?" Chuck met her eyes again. She was looking at him with that perfectly unreadable expression of hers.
That night he wanted to ask her felt so long ago. He was so nervous then, the searing memory of their first kiss still fresh in his mind. He had no idea if she would take him up on his offer. He just knew that when he imagined himself back in his normal life, Sarah was there with him. And if he was being honest with himself, he still dreamt about a future with her. He couldn't help it. He would fantasize about foreign sidewalks and pastries he couldn't quite pronounce and there she'd be, smiling at him. Not the calming handler-Sarah smile, but the more elusive smile that he would catch sometimes, just for a second, before it was gone and he would wonder if he'd ever seen it at all.
"I could've picked up some work in Europe," she said finally.
He let out a sigh, as it all came crashing back to him. The reason why their worlds felt so far apart. "Right. You'd still be a spy."
Sarah pursed her lips and pushed back a messy blonde curl that had fallen over her face. "Chuck, this line of work isn't for everyone. And I wish you didn't have to get caught up in it. But for me? I chose this. I chose to give up my own wants in service of something bigger. I keep people safe." She smiled apologetically, "that's the most important thing to me."
Chuck let her words settle on him. Keeping people safe, he thought. People like him; the graceless and gangly nerd-shaped casing for an extraordinarily expensive supercomputer who couldn't seem to stay in the van. It was nothing short of a miracle that his head and everything attached to it were still solidly intact. She gave up so much to protect him, and she did it without question. Without hesitation. Without a shred of resentment.
Chuck, on the other hand, had to be dragged down the path of public service kicking and screaming. It just wasn't in him. He wondered what Sarah might think of him if it were.
"Do you ever get tired of it?" Chuck asked, though he knew the answer, "the lone warrior life?"
Sarah shrugged, "You get used to it."
"But humor me," he smiled, trying to give shape and form to an image of civilian Sarah. Doing laundry. Taking out the garbage. Cooking breakfast on a lazy Sunday. The image clung to the edges of his mind like condensation. "If you had to give it all up, what would you do? How would you spend your time?"
Sarah opened her mouth and then paused, and sat in thought.
When she didn't say anything, Chuck jumped in, "Ah, ok, free time. What's the best way to describe this? Sometimes, while us non-spy folk aren't out saving the world, we might do as we please. Take up a hobby, for example."
Sarah rolled her eyes and then stood up and started pacing, "I have plenty of hobbies, Chuck."
"I know you have hobbies. All I'm saying is the shooting range doesn't count. Or boxing. That's just spy training." He got up to follow her, stopping short when she unexpectedly turned back to face him.
Her eyes pierced his and Chuck stared back, daring her to reveal something real. He tried desperately not to look down at the miles of skin and curves that were all suddenly right there.
After a pause, Sarah said, "Okay. Sometimes I go rock climbing."
Chuck squinted and tilted his head back and forth, weighing her suggestion. "Better. But on the other hand, also a relevant spy skill."
Sarah bit back a smirk, "Parkour probably doesn't count either."
He choked out a laugh. "The James Bond wall jumping thing? Okay, now you're not even trying."
Sarah laughed, too, and the sound made him feel like the vise grip around his chest was easing a bit.
"So, if you gave up being a spy, you'd fill your time with spy-like training." Chuck leaned back on his heels and tucked his hands into his pockets.
"Not the answer you were looking for," Sarah said, her eyes avoiding his, "but it's what I enjoy. More than watching movies and playing video games."
"Which involve spending time with friends and family," he countered. "And to me, that is the most important thing."
Sarah's smile fell, and Chuck's stomach followed in turn.
"Noted," she said flatly, "all that talk about protecting people and I have no one worth protecting."
"That's not true." Chuck felt a sudden instinct to pull her in and hug her. But he stopped himself mid stride and instead awkwardly placed his hands over her arms, keeping a generous distance between them.
"No, it's okay," she shrugged his arms off her and stepped back. Chuck would have thought by now she wouldn't feel so alone. That maybe she'd consider him a friend. Or at least more than an asset.
"You know, I'm right here," he reassured her, "and Morgan is always saying we should find more players for Halo. I think he was hoping for Devon, but I can sway him."
"Halo?"
"Yeah, It's a video game…" Chuck paused, noticing Sarah's forced smile. "Which I know isn't your thing. That's cool. I know! I could be your sparring partner. I'll bet all those video game combat skills are transferrable, right?" He made his best attempt at karate chopping the air, then gave her his smoothest smile.
Sarah stepped closer to Chuck, close enough that he could feel her breath tickle his chin. She put her hands on her hips, her stance imposing, though her eyes were playful. "Are you sure you want to do that?"
Chuck's heart kicked into high gear again, but he held her gaze steady. "Don't worry. I'll be gentle."
"Gentle's not really my style," she told him, her voice low and hard, and her body within an inch of his. Chuck felt his composure start to crack.
"Oh. That will make things interesting," his lips twitched, "when you teach me Parkour."
Sarah broke then, unable to hold back another laugh. She shook her head and walked away, calling out about needing to shower and change, and leaving Chuck standing there, still vibrating.
There were few things that Chuck could be certain about. The fact that Han shot first. The inevitable heat death of the universe. And that Sarah Walker was a spy, through and through. And Chuck was not. He would never be strong enough, or brave enough, or cold enough. Sarah was capable of things he would never be capable of. Incredible and unspeakable things. The closer Chuck got to being a spy, the more he wanted to run like hell.