A/N: I hated to do it, you have no idea, but Final Exam requires two chapters. The second part of this will be out sooner than next weekend, since it's mostly done. This was already 3000 words at ⅓ through the episode, because I included DC here. Again, this is Sharah heavy, skim if you're faint-hearted. I have a MAJOR plot hole to contend with here, as DC is explained in Living Dead. The penthouse is not in both DC and LA…there's no way to reconcile that episode at all. I did the best I could, but it's messed up because the writer's messed it up. The professionals. I'm just little old me. And yes, Sarah never heard Hall and Oates in the episode, so for her to know that, she had to have heard the disk later. Here goes. Look for part two of this by Tuesday.
When I woke up the next morning, I remember thinking that the cab driver may have misrepresented the beauty of DC, at least in March. In April the cherry trees would blossom, an explosion of pale pink flowers that made the mall beautiful. But in March, the trees were still bare and dead. I had been in DC before at all times of year, but I hadn't been back since December of 2007. That seemed so long ago it was like it was another life.
Shaw seemed to have genuinely missed me, for he displayed more emotion than I remembered seeing from him. He had respected the fact that I was exhausted and jet lagged from traveling and he let me sleep in.
I was sad, with this gnawing emptiness inside my chest. I did my best to conceal it, forcing a lighter mood, though he was a spy and it didn't take long before he asked me if anything was wrong. Now of course, I know he was dedicating himself full-force to his side mission, pushing Chuck and me further and further apart. At this point, after everything, he was merely watching it happen. He needed to put little effort into it anymore–we were doing a fantastic job of it all by ourselves.
It was what Shaw said to me that sort of set the rest of the events that happened in DC in motion. "You haven't had a vacation for over five years." When Graham sent me to Cabo with Bryce. That really had been a long time. I was never one for vacation, overall. When I was in working mode, it was easier. I was too solitary, too distanced from the rest of the world, to take vacations as a habit. I would simply be restless. Too much time to think about my life.
"We have a lot of meetings scheduled this week, but I tried to carve out some time where we can just relax. Have a little fun, you know."
Hearing him say the word "fun" was odd. I couldn't picture him having fun. I had seen him smile, but I'd never heard him laugh.
And then I thought about me. Could anyone picture me having fun? When was the last time I had heard the sound of my own laughter? Not since I had been pretending to be Chuck's girlfriend.
That is over, and it's been over…for a long time. I had been reminding myself of that all along. Being on the other side of the country from him put it more into focus. I didn't have to worry about how to act, what to say. We were alone here.
I could just relax and have a good time. This could be the vacation that Cole Barker had told me I needed. Once I accepted that, it was easier.
There were about 40 hours worth of meetings that both Shaw and I attended. General Beckman was there, along with a slew of other generals who worked in some way with the Department of Intelligence. We gave progress updates about the Intersect's training (no one in that room, ever, referred to Chuck as anything other than the Intersect, so at this point, neither did I.) There were inquiries about Ring intel, learned by Team Bartowski as well as other teams working around the globe for the same purpose. There were lots of strategy meetings about what Chuck's assignments would look like once he was working independently in the field. Shaw was treated like the subject matter expert he was–I was there to provide context specifically to things as they related to Burbank.
They decided when we got back, the government was going to issue Chuck's final test before he would officially become a spy. It was all or nothing, prove yourself or go home. My initiation into the CIA was unusual, so I didn't know it, but this was standard procedure. Once passed, Chuck was going to Rome. And we were going to DC.
It was hard to ignore how uneasy all of those meetings made me feel. It was like they were talking about someone I didn't know…but it was Chuck. Albeit, Chuck through the lens of someone who wanted to make sure the James Bond in him was shown and the Jerry Lewis was no longer present.
I counteracted those feelings of desolation by doing what Shaw had suggested, and enjoyed my vacation too.
We went out for dinner at a very elegant restaurant, Le Jardin. He ordered for us both, from the chef's tasting menu. I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten in a place so fancy. We managed to polish off two bottles of wine between the two of us, which is more alcohol than I would normally drink in one sitting. The alcohol didn't hurt, but I did have a nice time.
Having sex with him that night was better, too. I was more in the mood, ready for him. He may have thought he satisfied me because of that. He didn't, but like the time with Bryce when I was intoxicated, I was more vocal, at least inarticulately. I had never been overly noisy, even when the sex was very good, and he didn't talk at all during sex, so it was a fair assessment.
I honestly believe it was just my repressed emotions, subconsciously lurking below the surface, that kept me from climaxing. Like somehow, no matter what, I couldn't allow myself the full pleasure, knowing what I had had a part in ruining.
On one of the days, meetings ended early, and Shaw told me he had booked us for a couple's massage. The last time I had a massage was in Iceland, with all that entailed. The whole idea of us together was strange, too. The masseuse let us undress together in the room, entering once we were both face down on the tables. The tables were close enough that we could have held hands, but we didn't. It was incredibly relaxing; I had been holding so much tension in my shoulders and back. After that, he took me to Tiffany's and bought me a pair of diamond earrings. I thought it was too extravagant, but he insisted.
I had to suppress that thought that now I owned two pieces of real jewelry, and these were the only ones I could wear.
The second to last day in DC, we stayed in his penthouse in the Hoff Building all day. The meetings that day were optional, and Shaw opted to not check in at all. I wasn't staying with him in his penthouse, I still had my own hotel room, where I slept at night. I arrived to eat breakfast with him. I stayed for lunch, and dinner.
We had sex three times that day, once after every meal, as it turned out. Twice in his bed and the last time, after dessert, in the shower. I almost came in the shower, as he took me from behind. He finished maybe ten seconds too early. When I was drying off, after he had left the bathroom, I remember stretching my muscles, lifting my arms up over my head, and feeling a fluttering, two-second release of tension between my legs. It was strangely unsatisfying, but I convinced myself it was progress. I just needed more time to get used to him.
While I was in DC, Chuck called me about 20 times, and I'm not exaggerating. I made the conscious decision to not answer those calls. The more I was with Shaw, the further away Burbank seemed, and at last, the distance was helping me, making things hurt less. Talking to him, especially during the personal time I was spending with Shaw, would have been too weird, bursting the bubble I had put around us in DC.
When we left to go back to Burbank, there was a definitive plan on how to proceed with Chuck. I wasn't privy to all of it, still, even after all that time. I would soon find out why.
I woke up early the day after we got back and went to Castle. It was so weird without Casey. It didn't feel right. It felt like things were ending, worse than after they sent Chuck to Prague. I was dressed differently than I normally dressed; somehow the suits and skirts I'd worn in DC felt more appropriate now than the casual wear I had always donned when I wasn't in my Orange Orange uniform.
Chuck surprised me as I was working at the computer. I parsed the truth when he asked if we had had fun. I told him it was a business trip, full of meetings. I purposely didn't tell him about any of the fun. I thought it was ironic that Chuck had the same thought about Shaw and fun as I had.
Chuck was all about getting Casey reinstated. I was mid-conversation, trying to talk him down, when Shaw interrupted. Beckman soon called and told Chuck about his final mission test. He was typically nonchalant, but I had to remind him, this was it. He either passed, and moved on, or failed, and went back to the Nerd Herd. Beckman gave him a little encouragement, telling him that if he passed, he was being stationed in Rome with an extravagant cover. His enthusiasm was a little too much, because he thought we were all going. Beckman broke it to him that he would go alone, and Shaw and I were going to DC permanently.
To say Chuck was crushed was putting it mildly. He deflated in front of me. Shaw talked him up, but it was almost like Chuck didn't hear him. I sucked in a hard breath and congratulated Chuck, telling him he was about to get everything he had ever wanted.
I didn't yet understand that his everything included me. He had willingly given me up to do what he thought was his duty. I had no idea about the changes that occurred inside Chuck once Morgan convinced him to stop denying how he felt, what he wanted, when it came to me.
I was to deliver his mission to him in his apartment the next morning. Fortunately, Morgan was away on business again, so I knew Chuck was alone. I waited at the table, like I would have if I were delivering a mission packet to any other agent in the field. Walking to his bedroom, watching him sleeping, wouldn't have been appropriate, for more than one reason.
I hadn't been in his apartment since the night I had cooked dinner for Chuck and Hannah with Shaw, which had eventually pushed me over the edge with Shaw. It still made me uneasy. It smelled like him. It was too comfortable, full of too many happy memories that had nothing to do with my spy life.
He was being too familiar, too friendly, and I had to focus him, tell him it was serious and his mission had begun. I was notetaking, which was my role as the proctor.
The mission: At the Cobalt Hotel and Spa, a meeting between a CIA mole and a man named Anatoli Zevlovski was going to happen. Anatoli was selling secrets to the Ring. Chuck's job was to ascertain the identity of the mole.
Chuck made a joke about my notetaking, bringing up the fact that all of our past history was recorded in there. He joked about his stake out mixes, which made me laugh. It was sad laughter though, recalling a time when we were all more innocent. I found myself wishing for that time to come back, then stopped myself, knowing it was foolish to wish time to move backward. It only moved forward.
And by the end of the day, Chuck would be a spy or not. But he wouldn't be my asset, my trainee…my…anything anymore.
I was about to leave when Chuck asked me if I would be at the stake out with him. I told him I would, with Shaw on surveillance in Castle.
Chuck was wistfully sad when he said this was going to be our last mission together. I was still processing the way that made me feel when he suggested we do something special to commemorate. I put that thought out of his head, or at least, I thought I did.
I showed up in the vacant office building across from the hotel where the stake out was scheduled to happen right on time. To find Chuck had brought Chinese take out, champagne, candles, and music.
I didn't even have time to protest and he was pouring me a glass. My lips twisted to the side as I tried to hide my smile. Chuck was still charming as ever, no matter what I did, what I thought. He made me forget that I was a spy, just for that second. He was the only one who could ever do that.
It was even sizzling shrimp, from our first stake out, when Chuck called it for delivery to Casey's car. He played the same music, the music I heard later, since he was listening to that CD while he was eating his Chinese food alone in the car.
At least this time, we were together. My smile was genuine…and it felt odd on my face, like it hurt. How long had it been since I smiled like that? I only ever smiled at Chuck like that, I was sure, so I guess it had been a really long time.
"You're gonna miss me in DC, you know that, right?" he said, kiddingly, once we were seated side by side and eating with our chopsticks.
"I know." He was kidding–I was sincere. My voice was weak and sad. I was already missing him, and he was right beside me.
I heard him swallow after I said that. I kept my gaze straight ahead, and so did he, like it was suddenly awkward.
"So, um, so, you and Shaw, you're going to be…living together? Is that it?" he asked, during mouthfuls of food. "Like, are you, uh…you guys real serious or what?"
He was asking me about my feelings for Shaw. Odd that he would ask, when I didn't even know, not for sure. What did he mean by serious?
"Uh, I don't know. It's…it's different." It was the only way I could describe it. In the real world, serious meant like the way Ellie thought Chuck and I were when we were pretending. In love, committed, whatever. I couldn't describe it, so I didn't know.
"Different how?" He had to ask.
"Than with you." It just came out, an honest answer. Chuck was the only one who had ever made me feel the way I did. I think a part of me had been reaching for that, going after Shaw when I thought I had lost Chuck to Hannah for good. That me pushing us forward was a grasping for that feeling of lost intimacy. Only, as I had quickly learned, Shaw wasn't capable of it. He was a spy, just like Bryce and Cole and even Sam.
Spies don't fall in love. That was what made Chuck stand out, because he wasn't a spy. Only, now, he was. So where did that leave me? Alone, like I had never felt.
He almost choked when I said that, his painful swallow even louder.
I had no way to prove it, but it was odd that Shaw chose that moment to interrupt us with a phone call. I wondered, vaguely, if he had some other way to hear what was going on in the building, some listening device that we were unaware of. We put down the food and put in our earpieces.
"What I…what I was going to ask you, uh, a minute ago, or what I was about to say, anyway…" He wasn't using his binoculars, and he was rambling, which I hadn't heard him do in so long. "...was that I've been, um, I've been thinking about what it used to be like between us. Before Prague. And, uh, thinking about what life would be like for us if we'd made different decisions back then."
I was holding the binoculars to my eyes, but I wasn't paying attention to anything but what he was saying.
We? He made the choice, not me. I was ready to give up everything for him, and instead he gave up everything instead for the greater good.
"If I had made a different decision back then." At least, at the very least, he was acknowledging.
I could feel his breath on my cheek, sure he had turned to look at me. He wasn't rambling any more, but intense. "Look, I know we couldn't be together before, because I wasn't a real spy, but if I pass this test, we wouldn't have to choose between the job and us. If I pass this test, we could be together. That is, of course, if you're willing to give it another shot."
I finally pulled the binoculars away from my eyes and turned to look at him. I don't know what was on my face, only what was in my heart. Everything he said, I agreed with. I wanted. Even though I was with Shaw, even though everything was crazy and uncertain. He didn't do all of this because he wanted to be with me. That wouldn't have been genuine, and Chuck, even on his worst day, is the most genuine person I had ever known. But now that he was about to finish that task he had started, and he knew for sure how he still felt, he saw a way forward for us.
I was so close to him, my face to his face. I could smell that cologne that I could drown in. He mesmerized me, hypnotized me, making me forget where we were and what we were doing. He leaned forward to kiss me, and I leaned closer. I felt his breath on my lips, my eyes closed, when I heard Shaw on the earpiece.
We had missed Anatoli. Shaw knew, because he was monitoring. How much, no one knows. He did stop the kiss, a kiss I wanted so badly I could taste it. We looked amateurish, clumsy, screwing up the mission because we were talking about how we felt.
We fumbled, rushing to get Chuck out and into the hotel to find Anatoli. I gave him the video glasses and he took off, making sure he told me nothing was over yet.
I didn't know what that meant, but my heart, cased in layers of ice, had started to melt, just a little.
What I didn't know was it had melted just enough to allow through the arrow that would deal the final blow.