Waiting upon a forest
To rise up from the ground
Learning what came before us
Digging right down, down, down
"You & Me"
Diamond Rings
December 9, 2012
Montreux, Switzerland
Chuck stood on Ciel's porch, breathing in the crisp winter air in the hopes that it would calm him, that somehow by taking the cold into his lungs it could cool the rage boiling inside. There were many people in Ciel's tiny home, making the space crowded and stuffy. Chuck told himself that, but it wasn't the real reason he had needed some air: he was still struggling to find handholds on the slippery slope of self-doubt he could not seem to climb.
"Here you are." Morgan shut the door behind him. Chuck turned at the sound, offering a feeble smile, tight lips and no visible teeth. Morgan approached, rubbing his palms together and then blowing into his hands as defense against the cold. "Casey wants to go over the plan, you know, with everybody, before we get going."
Chuck nodded, noticing the fading sunlight in the sky, dusk threatening. Time continued to pass, relentlessly, irritating him, an endless, plinking drip from a broken faucet. Chuck couldn't dwell on thoughts like that for long; anxiety about the fate of his daughter was eating him alive. The sun was about to set on yet another day. The baby was one day older (so many days missed already), and still she had not been reunited with her parents.
"Beckman may have reinstated you and Casey, but Sarah and I are civilians." Chuck fixed his eyes on the horizon, a jagged line of craggy mountains charcoal gray against the pale blue of the sky.
"Does it matter, Chuck?" Morgan asked, genuinely curious.
Chuck turned his head, speaking to Morgan over his shoulder. "She sent you to bring me in. She did change your mission objective, but…it's still a mission. She's trying to stop Quinn from acquiring an Intersect."
"So were we, you know, before all of that, of this, happened," Morgan reminded him.
"Believe me, Morgan, he has to be stopped. But…that isn't my main concern, and it's not Sarah's. It can't be. We have to find our daughter, Morgan." His tone went from conversational to grave, emphatic. "Right now, our objectives coincide. I can't promise that it will stay the same. Nothing matters more to us than finding her. Nothing."
"We're with you, Chuck. We always were, even when we first started. It may not have felt like it to you, but we were." Morgan asserted his confidence, his loyalty.
Chuck's stiff posture relaxed as Morgan's words reached him.
Morgan moved closer to Chuck. The bearded man made several attempts to speak, opening and closing his mouth as he thought. Morgan closed his eyes, covering them with his hand and then sweeping down to smooth his beard. Morgan heaved a sigh before he finally spoke again.
"Chuck, I know we're in a hurry, but, look, we need to talk. You and me."
"Morgan–"
"No, Chuck. Listen." Morgan stepped closer, his proximity to Chuck briefly warming the air Chuck breathed in. "I'm still in shock, ok? All of this is…it's just wild. Unbelievable. Like…a miracle. Sarah's alive. Sarah's alive! I was so full of all this…grief…but she's alive." His tone reverberated his awe and wonder. Then Morgan took a deep breath. "Alive. So why are you still mourning for her?"
Chuck pulled back, surprised at Morgan, the question. "The baby is missing–" He offered the words as if they were an answer.
"I know, Chuck. I'm not saying you should be skipping with glee, not by a long shot. I can only imagine how worried you are, how…angry you are. And I know Sarah's memory is shot, but…I mean, did you look at her? Really look at her? She's trying to…I don't know…get close to you. Reconnect. But you're pushing her away."
Chuck had to look away, blinking as he felt the tears chill his eyes. It wasn't the first time Chuck was left to marvel at how his friend, once so juvenile about romance, had become a clear, rational voice more in tune with Chuck's relationship than he was himself. "Morgan, you don't understand." Even as he spoke the words, Chuck didn't believe what he said. Just the opposite.
"You don't have the option of wallowing in your guilt, not anymore. She needs you. Sarah may have holes in her memory, but she's still Sarah. She's ready to tear the world apart to find your baby, but she can't do it without you. Not anymore. You need to be together, not just in the same place."
"I'm here, Morgan," Chuck shouted. "She's not alone."
"Not space, Chuck! Emotion, love! She feels alone! Instead of blaming yourself for all the awful things that she went through while we were looking for her, help her to deal with what happened to her. Love, not guilt. Look, Chuck, Sarah is one of the strongest people I have ever known. But she needs you, man. You, everything about you, is her weakness; without you she can't be, become…whole."
A schizoid conversation raged inside Chuck as he stood in front of Morgan.
What if I'm not what she needs anymore?
You promised her it would be alright…
Just like I promised her I would never be what I've become…
"I know, Morgan," he said softly, explaining no further, offering no more justifications.
{}{}{}{}{}{}{}
"I'm going with you," Ciel insisted, crossing her arms and she stood defiantly in front of Hammersmith.
While the team had scattered inside Ciel's house, Hammersmith had received a message: three numbers, 374. He explained the shorthand: Rome was 374 miles from Marseille. In the code he used to conduct business within his network, mileage between cities meant only one thing–a credible lead, but without proof. Rome and Marseille in the same message: Blaser had heard about Mary. A second message, three more numbers, 693. The distance between Marseille and Nuremberg. Blaser had credible evidence that Mary was in Nuremberg.
The NSA had spotted Quinn in Nuremberg, and they believed Vivian was there as well. It couldn't have been coincidental. From her days as a spy, Sarah recalled a simple idea: there were no coincidences.
"Ciel, I don't think that's a good idea," Hammersmith said stiffly. Sarah sensed the change in Hammersmith's tone. Gone was the warmth Sarah had heard as the man had first spoken, before Ciel had raged at him for his past transgressions. He was maintaining a formal air of professionalism, though Sarah could still see the sympathy in Hammersmith's clear blue eyes.
"Why not?" Ciel challenged like a petulant child. She didn't explain herself, but given what Hammersmith had revealed, she was assuming everyone understood.
"These people are trained as spies," Hammersmith argued, gesturing to the four other people in the room with them. "It's just too dangerous."
"I don't care," she growled. "You need a doctor. David is fighting for his life and–"
"David would never forgive me if I let something happen to you, when I could have prevented it!" Hammersmith shouted, his professional tone suddenly gone.
Sarah felt a chill run through her. What had Chuck said? Some of Volkoff remained after his 30-year entanglement with the other identity. Sarah had only memories of him as Volkoff, remembering that Chuck had told her she had been unconscious, dying in the hospital, once anyone had started interacting with Hartley Winterbottom once the Intersect was removed.
"But he forgave you for what you did to my life?" Ciel shouted back, tears in her voice. "If Marseille…Mary…is alive, she'll need my help."
Chuck rose to his feet, taking Ciel by her shoulders.
"I never asked him to," Hammersmith said softly, ignoring the latter part of her outburst. "I would never ask him to. But that doesn't change anything, Ciel. He wanted you safe. He left Montreux to find me because he was terrified once Quinn knew you were responsible for his plan going wrong. You mattered more to him than his own life. And no matter what you may believe–" His voice caught in his throat. "David is like a son to me. He lost almost as much as you did, Ciel. But all he wanted to do was make the world better. He helped me build what I have. I would be nowhere if it weren't for him, for all that he did." He swallowed, and his voice deepened. "He loves you dearly."
"She can't stay here, Hugh," Chuck interjected, using his new alias. "If Quinn finds her and sends someone here and she's alone…"
"I'm prepared to send you to England, to be with David. You'll be safe there. And you'll be with him."
Ciel was still crying, and Chuck held onto her. "I want to, more than you know." She sniffled. "But you need a doctor. What if your daughter's been injured as well? You need me."
"She's right, you know," Casey added. "We don't know what we'll be up against in Nuremberg. Except that Quinn's had Mary for over a month."
"We can keep her safe," Chuck promised. Sarah nodded silently, making the vow herself. She couldn't deny that, if Mary was alive, they would find her in rough shape.
Hammersmith stayed silent, deliberating a long time before he eventually sighed in resignation. "David always told me how stubborn you are. I'm hoping he'll realize there was no arguing with you."
December 9, 2012
30,000 feet over Switzerland
"Sarah."
Chuck, whispering near her face, woke her. It took her a moment to orient herself. Chuck hadn't woken her up, rather, he had shaken her as she flailed in her sleep. The armrest between them was folded up, and she was curled against him, her head on his shoulder. Her face was wet with tears.
Dreams. Dreams stacked on top of each other. She had been in the jungle again, desperate, helpless, filtering uncomfortable echoes of stabbing a hypodermic needle loaded with ammonia into the neck of the man who had withheld information. And then her dream location had shifted, and she was somewhere else. A tiny berth, on what felt like a train, locked in a passionate embrace with her husband. Shockingly passionate.
Now awake, her body still tingled, enlivened everywhere she dreamed he had touched her. The feeling was new, yet familiar, though she hadn't yet had dreams, or even thoughts, about being with him that way. The significance of the memory persisted. It was a specific memory…when they had conceived their daughter. Almost an entire year later now.
"Are you alright?" Chuck asked, leaning closer to her, noting her apparent distress.
His face was kind and loving, his concern genuine. But she was tired of battering herself against the barrier between them, never able to break through and get inside. "No, Chuck, I'm not." She felt his breathing change, tightening as he waited for her to continue.
Chuck and Sarah were in a back compartment of the jet chartered for them by the NSA. The other four travelers were seated in the front of the plane. It was Morgan's idea to let them stay in the back, and Sarah had heard Morgan say something to Chuck about giving them a chance to talk. Exhausted, Sarah had fallen asleep on him. Her fitful dreams had been the product of her needing to talk to him, and not being able to.
"What happened to me was not your fault." Chuck closed his eyes, but she reached for him and turned his face towards hers. "You told me to stay…but I didn't listen, did I?" A series of pictures, floating loose in her mind, started aligning in correct order. "I left the compartment on the train because I was trying to help you. But if I had just listened to you, nothing bad would have happened. We would be home in Burbank with our daughter." She blinked rapidly as her tears streamed down her cheeks. "Not your fault," she added with a whisper.
She watched his jaw tremble before he clenched his teeth. "What happened to you…it was so horrible, Sarah…for all that time," he whispered hoarsely. "I should have been able to find you–"
"Chuck, if you couldn't, then no one could have. It took Hammersmith and all of his resources months and months. There was nothing more you could have done. Please stop torturing yourself over this. I love you too much. It hurts to see you in this much pain." She sniffled, leaning her forehead against his. "Why should we stay separate by blaming ourselves, when we could be together (the passionate embrace again in her mind), or relearning how to be together?"
In a broken voice that lacerated her, he said, "If you could remember everything…I don't think you would feel the same, Sarah. I feel like I'm not who you think I am. It would be like taking advantage of you when you were drunk." He glanced away from her blue eyes.
"What are you talking about?" She pulled his head back, searching his face. "You're my husband. I love you…and nothing will ever change that. I couldn't remember your name, but I never stopped loving you. You. I never forgot that." She leaned forward again, seeking his forehead with hers, but he turned his head, his eyelashes fluttering against her cheek.
"Sarah…" he whispered, still questioning her conviction.
She huffed in frustration, discouraged by his negativity and his unwillingness to forgive himself. She needed to shock him, force him to listen to her, even if it hurt.
"Why do you love me, Chuck?"
He reeled away in shock. Sarah couldn't remember if she'd ever asked him something like that, almost certain she would never have had a reason to ask something in that way.
"Yousay you love me. Tell me why."
Chuck closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the headrest. "Sarah…I fell in love with you the minute I saw you for the first time."
"While I was lying to you about my phone and who I was." He turned to look at her. "Was it real then, how you felt?"
"Of course it was," he said slowly.
"Why?" she challenged again. "How? I wasn't real; my words weren't real."
Chuck sputtered. "I mean, I was shocked and confused once I realized the truth. I tried to tell myself that I was wrong, that I didn't really know you, that I couldn't possibly know you well enough to feel the way I did. But you kept proving me wrong. You tried to hide yourself from me, but I knew who you were."
"Really, Chuck? Did you know the spy who woke up and almost killed the doctor who was taking care of her…almost without thinking about it?" Sarah winced at the memory, pinning Ciel to the ground by her throat, telling the doctor in French that she could break her neck with one hand.
Chuck just stared, his eyes wide and unblinking. Sarah had confronted the ugliness inside her before, she was certain, even if the memories were disjointed, pictures and impressions rather than a chronological narrative. She needed to remind him again.
"Yes. I knew her." He blinked and tears fell.
Sarah grabbed his hands, gathering them within hers, and pulled them to her mouth. Murmuring with his hands against her lips, she said, "Did she have to change…before you could love her?"
She knew she was getting through, watching his eyes and feeling his breath change. "No." The faintest of whispers that she felt before she heard.
"How could someone like you…love an assassin?"
Chuck unfolded his hands, reaching for her cheek. Her heart thumped hard against her breastbone, the air between them buzzing, vibrating. Rays of sunlight were beaming through the cracks now visible in the wall she felt was between them.
"You were more than that. There was so much more of you."
"But I wasn't. I wanted to be the person that you saw when you looked at me. But it took a long time. And even then, she was right there, waiting to reappear to torture and almost kill the man who knew where you were and wouldn't tell her. She couldn't live without you."
His eyes softened, his comprehension visible to Sarah. His voice was a gentle whisper. "You told me then, after that…that you needed me."
"I did. And I still do." She touched his cheek, mirroring his posture, their lips inches from each other. "You never let me down, you never broke your vows or your promises. You kept me alive, Chuck." She kissed him softly. She cried tears of relief when she felt him kiss her back with a fervency she knew she had been missing until now. A husband's kiss. Her Chuck's kiss.
She was breathless when she pulled away, still nuzzling his lips. "My memory is getting better, since we found each other again. I want us to be a family, like we should have been." She sobbed softly. "We missed so much. I don't want to lose another second."
He crushed her against him in an embrace. "We will find her, Sarah. I promise you. We'll find her."
Sarah knew they would. As long as she was with him, they could do anything.
