A/N: This one is another short story, only two chapters, but they are longer than my usual.
Again, no betas were harmed in the production of this story, so it may contain typos or Anglicisms. If any of them trouble you enough to want them corrected, please PM me to let me know.
Bleeding Out
Chapter 1: Bleed It Out
Truth is, you can stop and stare
Bled myself out and no one cares.
Fuck, this hurts, I won't lie
Doesn't matter how hard I try.
I bleed it out
Digging deeper just to throw it away
Just to throw it away
Just to throw it away
I bleed it out.
"Bleed It Out"
Linkin Park 2007
As she lay in the dark alleyway, her hand on the main wound that was still leaking, she knew this was the end. She had always expected that she'd die on a mission, probably from a gunshot, but that wasn't how it had worked out.
It was ironic that she was caught by desperate men seeking money rather than the evil men she'd normally faced, and that it had happened when she'd decided to go out for a drink on her own without her normal array of weapons.
She was sure that if she'd not drunk so much, that her reaction would've been faster and two men with knives would've been no threat to her. Maybe if she'd eaten and not poured alcohol into an empty stomach, too.
She could feel her life oozing out through her fingers. She wasn't afraid of dying. Death had been her constant companion throughout her working life and she almost welcomed it, taking her into its embrace. She knew she didn't deserve to live after all that she'd done. That was the main reason for her drowning her sorrows in that bar.
She was lying with her back against a trash bag that stank, but she didn't care. If it hadn't she'd be smelling her blood that was pooling around her ass as it leaked from her belly. Probably some from the knife wound to her right shoulder too, although she couldn't feel that or her left arm right now.
When her body was found, there would be no identification on it. When the men ran with her handbag, her CIA supplied driving license and credit card had gone with it. Her face wouldn't show up on any normal records, so a ghost would become a corpse and probably be placed in an unmarked grave. That was fitting, too.
She rested her head back as her consciousness started to fade. Goodbye cruel world.
"Oh my god!" A male voice filtered into her head. She tried opening her eyelids to see who it was, but they resisted. A thumb gently opened her right eyelid for her. "Thank god you're still alive!" the voice said.
With light from the street filtering into the alleyway being behind him, she couldn't see the man's eyes, just his dark curly hair that framed his face. The light behind him made it seem as though he had a halo.
He released her eyelid and pulled away. Then she heard him. "Ellie, the woman I saw in the bar is dying in front of me! She's been stabbed!" He paused and then groaned, "What am I thinking!"
He must've ended that call and started another because he then said, "Yes, it is an emergency. I've found a woman in an alleyway just off the street and she's been stabbed. I think she's gonna die!"
He'd obviously called 911. He must've been transferred, probably to ambulance services, but it could equally be the police. He gave their location, which impressed her. She had no idea of the name of the alleyway she was dying in.
She just lay there, no longer caring.
"You must stay awake," he said.
How could she, feeling as she did? She was dying, for god's sake!
He grabbed her free hand, the one not holding her wound. "Please stay alive. An ambulance is on its way."
It was weird. No one had ever cared whether she lived or died, but here, at the end, was someone she didn't know desperately wanting her to live.
He was holding her hand and squeezing it, as if that would hold death at bay. Strangely, as he wanted it, so did she, if only to thank him for his kindness. Not only that, but death could no longer take hold of her hand to pull her down to hell.
She heard the sirens and guessed that was her ride to the hospital. She suddenly wanted this man to accompany her. How else could she thank him?
However, that wasn't to be. The ambulance men took her away as she lost consciousness.
Chuck had gone to the bar to drown his sorrows as another application had been rejected. As he'd sat drinking his beer, he'd wondered why he'd let his sister insist on pushing him to try when no one wanted a man who abandoned his degree.
He'd seen the most beautiful woman at the table in the corner looking like he felt. She'd been knocking back vodka all the time he'd been there, so she must be pretty hammered.
If he'd had the nerve, he would've gone and talked to her, but his knowledge that no woman that gorgeous would want his company kept him at his stool at the bar. She was virtually in the shadows and he suspected that was deliberate. If she'd been in the light, the amount of attention she would've received would probably have upset her more. Moths to a flame, and all that.
He watched her rise and leave. She was a bit unsteady on her feet but he was sure that she'd get a taxi to her destination.
Somehow, her leaving made him even more depressed. Was seeing someone else as miserable as him lifting his spirits? What a sad reflection on him!
He finished his beer and left.
He decided to walk home rather than pay for a taxi that he couldn't afford. It was just over three miles, but he could manage that.
As he walked along the street, he heard a groan from the alleyway he was passing. He glanced that way and froze. That beautiful blonde was lying against a large black rubbish bag and holding her side.
"Oh my god!" he cried and rushed toward her. As he got close he could see her eyes were closed. Without thinking, he reached over and carefully raised her right eyelid. Her pupil shrank slightly as she looked into the brighter light, but she also seemed to try to focus on him and it started to dilate again. He breathed out a sigh of relief, saying, "Thank god you're still alive!"
He moved back and grabbed his phone and pressed his speed dial number for his sister. As soon as she answered, he rushed out with, "El, a woman I saw in the bar is dying in front of me! She's been stabbed!"
Ellie obviously didn't know who he was talking about as she hadn't even known he was going to a bar, but she responded immediately, "Call 911."
He cursed himself for not doing that immediately.
He ended his call with his sister, knowing he'd have to explain himself later, and called the emergency services. When asked, he replied that it was an emergency and explained why. He was transferred to ambulance services and had to repeat himself and then give a location. Thankfully, he knew this area and could do that. He was told help was on his way, but also that the police would be coming.
He looked down at this dying angel, wishing he'd helped her sooner. "You must stay awake," he said. She didn't respond so he grabbed her hand willing her to stay alive as he told her about the ambulance.
When it arrived, he was ushered away. After a quick examination, she was whisked away, just as a police car arrived.
He was intensively grilled and searched, as was the alley.
"I found her and called for help! Why would I do that if I was the one who stabbed her?" he cried.
"Guilt," one of them answered.
He just stood with his mouth open. "I just found her! I want to know she's alright!" he said. "I want to go to the hospital."
"No. You're coming with us."
He was led to the police car. "This doesn't encourage Good Samaritan behavior," he pointed out.
The policewoman snorted. "As if any still exist!"
As she regained consciousness, Sarah wondered where she was, but the bright light and white walls were answer enough. She was lying on a hospital bed hooked up to drips and monitors.
She remembered lying in an alleyway dying and a man she'd not seen before had saved her.
She looked around and caught the attention of the nurse that was sitting by her. "Where is he?" she asked.
The woman looked at her briefly and then called for someone to come to see her.
A policeman walked into the room. "She asked where he was," the nurse relayed her question, as if she couldn't do it herself.
"Your murderer?" he asked in a gravelly voice.
That confused her. "There were two of them."
"Only one still on the scene of the crime," he replied.
She suddenly realized what he meant. "You think my savior stabbed me?" she asked incredulously.
He frowned. "Savior?"
"The man who found me," she carefully explained.
He immediately turned and walked out. She saw him grabbing his phone.
The drip must've included some sort of sedative because she'd slept again. She woke again to the sound of argument over her.
She didn't have to open her eyes to see the participants because it was obvious. Police against medical staff. One side wanted her revived so that she could be interviewed, and the other insisted that she be left to recover first.
She drifted back to sleep.
She awakened again, and opened her eyes. Her tongue was sticking to the top of her mouth. She was desperate for water and that took precedence over anything else. She wanted to wave to someone, but found something near her left hand and pressed the button to call for assistance.
A different nurse hurried in. Sarah couldn't speak but the woman guessed her need from her mouth movement and brought some water. A straw was eased past her lips. She desperately sucked some in.
When she'd had enough, she released the straw and nodded thanks to the nurse.
'We need to know what happened," a deep male voice stated.
The nurse turned quickly and snarled at the policeman standing behind her. "You shouldn't be in here."
'It's alright," Sarah said. "But I wanted to see the man who saved my life first."
The man frowned and said, "You don't get to make demands."
She was surprised that a policeman would behave like that. raised an eyebrow and stared back. "Yes, I do. I'm not a prisoner, and he better not be one, either." She was pretty sure that he was, based on the reaction of the first policeman.
This one grumbled and walked out to make a call.
The nurse grinned at her and started to check her over.
"Can you feel this," she asked as she took Sarah's right hand.
"No," she replied. The nurse noted that down. Sarah started getting a sinking feeling. Had she lost the use of her right arm and hand?
She should've demanded to have a phone to call her boss, but she knew the CIA would whisk her away and she'd never get to meet and thank the man who'd saved her once she did that.
He'd been sitting in the interview room for what felt like hours now, but it was probably only minutes. They'd cuffed him, for god's sake!
He'd gotten so pissed that he'd ended up antagonizing them. Growling at them, "Do you see it as your role to dissuade citizens from helping injured people, to just walk away and let them die?" That hadn't gone down well.
"Where'd you hide the knife?" the detective demanded, thrusting his face toward Chuck's.
"I saved her!" Chuck said. "I didn't stab her!"
"This will be easier on you if you talk," the calmer detective said.
Chuck was so wound up, he snapped at that one, too. "I have been talking. I. Did. Not. Stab. Her." He glared at them both. "I found her and made the call to get her help."
"What's the password on your phone?" demanded the first one.
He sighed. He'd already told them this before. "It's unlocked by my thumb print. Someday all phones will have that feature."
"So, why does yours already have it?"
"Because I built it that way. Like I've already told you."
The second man nodded toward the door to the first and the two of them walked out, leaving Chuck alone again.
After a few minutes, he heard raised voices outside his room. He couldn't make out the words, but whoever was speaking wasn't happy.
The door burst open and a new man walked in. He told the first man to uncuff Chuck and the other to bring him his belongings. "You're free to go, Mr. Bartowski, but we may need to contact you again." He looked pained as he added, "Your presence has been requested at the hospital."
Chuck immediately asked, "Is she ok?"
This third man nodded. "She's asked to see you."
That was a surprise, but Chuck didn't argue.
Detective Garcia, the third man, drove him to the hospital. "She won't talk to anyone until she's spoken to you. You can have thirty minutes and then it's own turn."
Chuck felt so special. The beautiful woman wanted to talk to him before even the police.
He finally got to her room. Chuck never liked seeing anyone hooked up to drips and monitors, but the woman looked so much better than the last time he'd seen her that he almost didn't notice.
She wasn't fully sitting up, but her back was cushioned by a pillow, so she was not fully reclining either. They'd removed her black outfit and had her in a hospital gown. He suspected she'd look good in anything.
Initially, she looked blankly at him and he guessed she hadn't actually seen his face in the alleyway. "Hi, I'm Chuck. I'm so glad you've made it."
A smile crept across her face. "You're the one," she said. "I recognize your voice and your hair."
That smile was beautiful, but he was also reminded that he'd thought her to be the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen when he'd spotted her in the bar. Then, her words filtered through to his brain. "My hair?"
She nodded. "Even without your halo, I'd recognize your hair with its weird animal shapes."
His first thought was that his sister was right, he did need a haircut. "Wait, what? Halo?"
"Only an angel would do what you did last night," she quietly said.
He wasn't comfortable with being described that way, but also wanted to be nearer this stunning woman. "Can I sit by you?" he asked.
"Please," she replied. Once he'd settled into the chair beside her, she said, "You saved my life, Chuck."
"Anyone would've done the same," he replied.
"No, they wouldn't. I suspect you're unique." Then, she looked at him intensely. "Did the police believe you?"
He frowned and had to admit, "No, they thought I'd stabbed you."
"I suspected as much," she grumbled. "But then, maybe that's how many crimes go. The guilty person acting innocent."
She seemed to be getting lost in her thoughts. Chuck had now seen that she was ok and probably should leave her to recover, but a thought popped into his head. "Have you been able to contact your family or boyfriend?"
She raised one eyebrow. "Boyfriend?"
"Or… or girlfriend. I can see you're not married," he said, pointing at her left hand.
Her lips curled slightly. "But you think I'm in a relationship?"
It seemed obvious that someone as beautiful as her would be. "Sorry. I just assumed." Then, he realized that she hadn't answered his question. "Family?"
She shook her head, rather sadly. "I lost touch with my parents."
He nodded. "Me, too. So, any friends or associates? Have you contacted anyone?"
She shook her head and her cheeks reddened. "I wanted to see you before anyone came and whisked me away."
He frowned. "Just because I was able to help?"
She looked frustratedly at him. "You saved me, Chuck. I thought I was going to die there and probably would've." Her look softened and he wished women always looked at him like that. "I owe you my life. I had to see you and thank you."
And that was it. She wasn't interested in him, just wanted to thank him. "You are very welcome, Sarah. The world would be a lesser place without you in it."
She looked confused and was obviously going to comment, but someone else appeared.
Sarah had never met anyone like Chuck Bartowski. Not only had he put himself out to help her, but even after being badly handled by LAPD, he was still pleased to have done so. It was also strange that he didn't want to take the credit for his actions. Very odd.
He had no idea who she was or what she did, but he came out with that comment about what he thought about the possibility of her dying. It could've been a pick up line, but she didn't think it was. She was good at judging people and he seemed to genuinely think the world benefited from her living. It was very odd.
She'd been looking at him as they talked, assessing him as well as his words. He seemed to be an honest person. He was also quite attractive.
Chuck's comments about relationships made her wonder about his ones. She'd never wondered that about anyone before, so why now? She hadn't hit her head or anything to make her think differently.
She was going to comment on what he said when a very attractive brunette breezed in. Clearly a doctor. "Finally found you, Chuck! You've not been answering my calls." Is this his girlfriend? And why does that disappoint me?
He flushed. "Sorry, El. I got held up and then I was so worried about Sarah." That filled the blonde with a warmth she wasn't used to.
The woman turned to her. "Hello, I'm Eleanor Woodcomb. You're in good hands here. What happened?"
The woman was almost pushed aside by the first of the two men that forced their way into the room. Sarah suspected they were both LAPD detectives. "That's what we need to know. Please leave us," the second, older one said to Chuck and Ellie. Chuck obviously recognized him and had been expecting this.
Sarah didn't argue, but said to Chuck. "Please don't leave the hospital."
Chuck looked very pleased at her asking that. "I'll wait outside."
Once the other two had walked out of the room, the younger policeman closed the door. The other man pulled the chair further away and said, "I'm Detective Garcia. What happened?"
"I'd been in the bar not far from the alleyway. I'd had enough to drink to be unable to successfully take out the two men who decided to take my purse."
Garcia looked surprised at her words. "I've been told this wasn't your first knife wound."
Sarah snorted. "Hardly."
"Who are you?"
"Sarah Walker. I work for the CIA. I need a phone to report in."
Garcia narrowed his eyes. "The CIA do not operate in the States."
She rolled her eyes. "D'you think I would've gotten drunk if I was working?"
He huffed. "So, why get drunk?"
"It's personal and not pertinent to the attack, other than reducing my reactions."
"What did they take?" he asked.
"My purse," she replied. She saw the alarm in his eyes. "Don't worry. It only contained cash and my credit card. No weapons."
Garcia relaxed. "Would you be able to identify them?"
"No. One grabbed me from behind, covering my mouth, just after I passed the alleyway and pulled me in. The other was already in there. The light was too dim to see either of them well enough with eyes that hadn't adjusted."
"What happened then?"
"I resisted and elbowed the one behind me and kicked the other. Obviously not hard enough with either." She thought the one in front would remember the kick in his groin for some time. "I hadn't let go of my purse and was holding it in my right hand. When the one behind me stabbed my right shoulder I lost grip enough that the other managed to grab the purse after stabbing me in my belly."
Garcia sighed. "So, the two of them got away and left you to die."
It wasn't a question, but she still confirmed it. "Yeah."
"I doubt we'll get anywhere with this," Garcia said to his partner. "Have you got all she's said?" A nod confirmed it. "Jackson, get her a phone."
The junior detective went to achieve that, Sarah said, "Can you tell Chuck to wait until after my call?"
Garcia smiled. "Not telling him about the CIA?"
"No."
"Good luck with that call. I suspect it doesn't look good for you."
Jackson brought her a phone and the two of them walked out, closing the door behind them.
Garcia was right. But that might not be the worst thing to come of this. She keyed the number with the thumb of her left hand.
Ellie sat beside Chuck for a few moments before she needed to head off for her shift. "You did good, little brother."
"I know." He looked at her. "The police thought I was the one who stabbed her." She gasped. "Apparently, it's often the one that calls that did the deed," he added.
"So, what convinced them otherwise?"
"Sarah," he replied. Ellie looked confused, so he explained. "Her first words when she came around were to ask for me, calling me her savior."
Her hands shot up to cover her mouth.
He chuckled. "And just before you arrived, she'd called me an angel."
She pulled her hands away and smiled tremulously. "You probably seem like that to her."
"Did you look at her, though, El? That's what an angel looks like."
Ellie chuckled now. "Not a good start to a relationship, Chuck. Both of you worshiping the other for reasons that are not true."
He frowned. "She might be an angel."
She gave him a flat look. "I don't think angels nearly bleed to death."
"Anyway, I'm not worshiping her and she's not with me, either."
"I've not seen it for a long time, but I recognize the look on your face, Chuck. You had that expression when you mentioned that harpy from college."
"Mixing religions there, El."
She sighed. "Just don't get your hopes up. She might not hang around."
"Ellie!" he said with a degree of exasperation. "I know that, and I'm not falling for her. We don't know each other at all. It was just a lucky coincidence that I found her." He absolutely was NOT telling his sister that he'd been watching this beauty for some time before leaving the bar.
She patted his hand and left him sitting there.
His shoulders slumped as his sister disappeared from view. He had been obsessing about Sarah in the bar. There was something that drew him to her, even though he stayed seated where he was. When she'd left, there was nothing holding him there anymore.
Of course, once he'd found her, and she was nearly dead, she totally filled his mind. But that's normal, right?
Shortly after Ellie left, the younger detective ran out. He was the kinder one in the interview and Garcia was the senior one who stopped them. Chuck watched as Jackson was given a phone which he hurried back to the room. That would be so that Sarah could contact someone, probably work.
When the two detectives emerged, Garcia walked to Chuck. "She's calling work, but then wants you to go back in. We still need your full account of what you found and did. Sorry about the misunderstanding earlier. Can you come to the station tomorrow?"
"In my lunch break, yeah."
Garcia patted him on the shoulder. "Good man."
Then, Chuck was on his own again, but now wondering how Sarah would call him back in.
After her call, Sarah tried to get over it for a moment or two.
Langston Graham had not been sympathetic, nor was he going to give her any time to recover in LA. He said he'd arrange for a CIA medical team to collect her and expected that they'd ship her across the country shortly after. Then, she'd undergo 'treatment' at a CIA facility before returning to work.
She didn't tell him about her right arm, hoping that it'd recover before she saw him again.
The hardest part of the call was when she admitted to being overcome and confessed that she'd been drinking.
"Why the hell were you that drunk?" he shouted.
She wasn't going to confess that she was questioning her life and getting depressed because she couldn't think of an alternative occupation. "Just trying to relax after the last mission, Sir."
"Well, you should damn well do that alone in your hotel room!" he blasted back.
And that summed up her existence. Lurking in shadows, assassinating people, if required, or just stealing from them, and then hiding in a room to get drunk, before leaving. All pretty shit, really.
As she sat quietly, she wondered what her attractive savior did, both for his job and to relax. She thought she'd noticed him in the bar, sitting and drinking by himself. Was he as lonely as she was?
She pressed the buzzer to get a nurse who she'd ask to invite Chuck in.
She'd never wanted to stay anywhere before, or felt sad to be saying goodbye to someone. It was a totally new experience.
Chuck was led back into the room by the nurse.
Sarah didn't look happy. But then he mentally kicked himself. Why should he expect someone who'd been stabbed twice to be happy just because he was there?
"Pull up the chair, Chuck," she instructed him.
He pulled it up on her right side this time. "Are you ok?" he asked. "Can I get you anything?"
She just looked at him for a few moments before replying. "You know that you're the only person I've ever experienced that even cares."
He frowned. "That's crazy."
She shrugged her left shoulder. "True, though."
He didn't know what to say in response to that.
"My Company is sending a team to take me from here and back to the east."
"Surely not until you've recovered enough to travel."
He was shocked by her response. "Later today."
This was an unpleasant surprise. It sounded risky and that's what he should focus on, rather than the disappointment that his sister had mentioned. "Are they mad?"
A ghost of a smile appeared. "Maybe."
"Who are they? The hospital should fight this!" he declared, standing to go and find someone.
"Sit down, Chuck." Her voice was quiet but commanding. "I'm going to tell you things that you shouldn't know, but I..." She trailed off for a moment and looked away. "I'm so indebted to you and want you to know," she said, more determinedly. She faced him again. "I work for the CIA. I'm what you'd call an agent."
He knew his jaw probably dropped. "A spy?" he asked. She nodded. "But-" he stopped himself from pointing out her being attacked.
She sighed. "I was drunk and an easier target than I should've been."
"Was it some enemy?"
She gave him a crooked smile. "No. That's what makes it more embarrassing. Just men after money."
"And the CIA is taking you back to fix you and send you out again?"
She nodded. "That's the hope."
He didn't think, but grasped her hand. There was no grip back and he realized which hand it was. He released it immediately. "Oh, sorry. I don't mean to hurt you."
She looked pained and he was sure he had, but her words corrected that. "No. It doesn't hurt. I can't feel anything in that hand."
"But they'll fix it, right?"
"Hopefully," she replied. "They're probably more used to treating stabbed or shot patients than they are here," she wryly commented.
"Can I stay with you until they arrive?" he said.
She cocked her head slightly. "Why'd you want to?" She didn't look upset, though, just curious.
He squashed the thoughts that his sister had put in his head. Surely I can't have already fallen for her, can I?
He tried to work out why and failed. He took a different tack. "I guess you're used to being on your own."
She nodded and replied sadly, "I've spent most of my life on my own."
He stood and carried the chair around the bed. When he sat on her left side, he took that hand. A raised eyebrow was her response.
"Well, until they turn up, you're not alone. I'm here for you." Then, he realized what he was saying and started to let go of her hand. "Unless you want to be alone."
She suddenly gripped his hand tightly. "Please stay." She looked uncomfortable asking that, vulnerable even. He wondered if this attack had shaken her up, but he wasn't going to make her think about that.
"Tell me about yourself, Chuck."
He hated his life and didn't feel like it was a good topic at all. "I'm nobody special."
She tightened her grip. "You're special to me." His confusion obviously showed. She smiled. "My savior, remember?"
That beautiful smile was getting to him. He looked down at their hands. "Soon to have his hand crushed," he commented.
She eased off a bit, while chuckling. "You big baby."
"Says the spy to the mere civilian."
She gave him the sort of flat look that he was used to from his sister. "Don't belittle my savior. You're not a 'mere' anything."
He just looked into those ocean-blue eyes. He could imagine just gazing into them forever.
"Come on. Who is Chuck Bartowski and what does he do?"
He sighed and started to tell her.
Over the course of the next two hours, he told her about living with his sister and her boyfriend until they married and then how he'd moved to another, smaller, apartment in the complex. He told her about the craziness in the Buy More and the mad people he worked with.
She brightened up and spent a fair amount of time laughing. He loved that laugh.
Then, two men in slightly different scrubs entered the room and he was ordered out. He felt Sarah's hand grip his as she tensed.
"Will I ever see you again?" he foolishly asked, knowing the answer already.
Her face had changed. It was like a mask had been pulled down hiding the animated woman beneath, "No, Chuck. Thank you again."
"You're very welcome," he replied as he stood and was ushered out.
As he walked away, he felt like he'd lost his best friend, stupid though that was. He hardly knew her and his best friend was Morgan.
He suddenly needed to see his bearded buddy. They'd play and he'd forget all about Spy Sarah. Wouldn't he?
A/N: Just one more chapter after this one.
I'm sure that LAPD wouldn't behave like they did in this, but they had to for my plot. Sorry, to those keepers of the peace for maligning them here. I'm also aware that the shoulder wound wouldn't have cause the damage I have here, but this is fiction, so run with it.
The cover doesn't include a photo of Sarah Walker, but an AI generated image. I was impressed and thought it was good enough to use.
The chapter title and lyric extract are from one of my favorite Linkin Park tracks and seemed to fit that initial scene. Have you watched or heard them with their new singer, Emily Armstrong? What do you think of her? I think she's great.
Anyway, if you have the time, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this story so far.
