A/N: Part two of the in between. From Castle to the train station in Prague. People are dreading this-I was dreading writing it. Ugh. Talk about depressing. More crap communication. Sarah had her issues, but I don't think anything she might have said at this point would have changed his mind. We know that after we heard the eloquent speech in the vault. He owed her a better explanation! The despair that follows, her thinking that HE DIDN'T LOVE HER, was because of that rejection, that interaction. But, since Sarah is telling this story, she has wisdom on her side, and so do we. Chuck didn't choose being a spy over being with her. He wanted to do the right thing, always, because she taught him how to be. He had to give her up for the burden he chose, because she believed in him. Walking away from her was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life. Those words from the vault were there, but he couldn't say them. He said as little as possible because he was fully aware that he was hurting her...and we KNOW how adverse he is to hurting her...willing to let her kill him, rather than hurt her in any way. The faster we get through this, the faster we are at Charah. Thanks for sticking with.
The rest of the night passed much as the beginning, with me barely holding on to reality while the world seemed to spin out of control. Eventually, Beckman arrived and the hectic atmosphere calmed. She sent me and Casey home, telling us she was overseeing the situation. She ordered us to rest.
I heard Chuck on the phone with Ellie, so I didn't get a chance to talk to him again before I left. I didn't realize until I was back in my hotel room that I hadn't really said goodbye to him.
Three weeks. This would be the longest stretch of time since meeting him that we would be apart.
I was too tired to dwell on that. I fell into bed and slept straight through the night and all through the next day. I woke up at four in the morning two days after Ellie's wedding.
Ellie had already left for her honeymoon and I never got a chance to congratulate her, or wish her well, or even say goodbye. The thought saddened me far more than I thought it would. I blinked tears out of my eyes.
Chuck was gone.
The initial crash inside me at that thought stole my breath. He was thousands of miles away, at a training ground for spies I had only heard rumors about. More grueling than the Farm. Alone, without Casey or me. It created a deep, aching in my chest, so intense it hurt to breathe.
He's gone, but not forever! You'll be with him soon, so soon…I said the words over and over again.
The farther away from sleep I got, the better I felt, calmer. It was three weeks, which felt like an eternity, but it was only three weeks. And then we would be together for real. Forever.
Clearer headed, I started making plans. I was very good at planning. I felt in control when I could plan things. I made a list of all of the things I needed to do between now and three weeks later. The list was bulleted, and I added details and notes. The more I wrote, the better I felt. It only took about two hours and everything was on paper.
I had to see about Bryce's remains. I needed to retrieve the money I had stashed away. I needed to reach out to a few old contacts I had so I could secure fake identities for both of us. There was Castle to deal with, loose ends to tie. Things that I needed to buy for both him and myself, at least to get us started.
It was the first list I ever remembered making that made me happy, where the thought of doing each thing on the list filled me with anticipation, with excitement. It's a shame now that I can no longer isolate this time, that every memory of it now is tainted, full of pain. Before adding all the tragedy that followed, these weeks were the happiest I had ever remembered being. Remembering it now hurts, and there is this unreasonable urge to travel back in time, to tell myself that I was full of hope for nothing, that none of my dreams would come true the way I had planned. Not then, not this way.
I had a ream of paperwork to fill out in order to have Bryce's body released to the funeral home for cremation. I had to choose the urn. I chose a simple silver canister type, something that reminded me of him, very James Bond like, how I saw him, the spy he had always aspired to be. After I signed everything, I was told I should be able to claim Bryce's remains in about ten days. They would call me.
I wire-transferred my money from several overseas banks back to the U.S. I did it in small increments, nothing large enough to attract undue attention. With some of that money, I secretly contacted the man I knew could create all the required documentation with our new identities.
All of that took a little over two weeks. While I worked, arranging everything, I would sometimes wonder what Chuck was doing, if he was alright. So many things could happen, awful things, even in training. I did everything I could to stay busy so I wouldn't think too much about the specifics of what Chuck was enduring. He just had to hold on for a short time, and then it would be over.
Beckman had accompanied Chuck to Prague and then returned to DC, leaving Casey and I with stand-by orders. I was so focused on our plans, on walking away from the CIA, I really didn't think all that much about what would happen with Castle…or even Casey and me. I'm sure Beckman was waiting, not sure herself what would happen next, where they would send us, or Chuck, for that matter. While we were waiting, we mostly spun our wheels, with little real spy work to do, mostly just completing paperwork.
If Casey noticed anything was strange or out of sorts, he never let on. He didn't say anything, which was also peculiar for him. Never one to discuss emotions, if he saw me being overly emotional, he let it alone, avoiding any potential conversation.
Ellie was under the impression that I was with Chuck, exploring Europe somewhere, so I needed to stay out of sight in Burbank, just in case I might accidentally bump into her. I couldn't blow Chuck's cover, so I went nowhere near Echo Park or Westside Medical Center. I stayed out of the Orange Orange during daylight hours. The CIA actually hired a real yogurt server to assist with that. So bizarre, but true.
The last thing I had to do was shop.
The last time, the only time really, that I had done that was before Bryce and I were partnered and Graham sent us to Cabo for vacation. I had enjoyed that back then, shopping for vacation with Bryce.
Shopping this time, for Chuck, for what I thought of as our new life, made me absolutely giddy. Each item I chose, I thought of how I would look in it, how Chuck would see me in it, where we would be when I wore it. I bought lingerie, a lot of it, thinking of how it would feel when Chuck took it off me. When we could finally be together, intimately, how I had been dreaming of being with him for so long it was physically painful, how badly I wanted him.
Soon, I told myself. Soon we would be together, and alone, with nothing in between us. Not our jobs, old lovers, clothing…nothing. It wasn't wishful thinking or fantasizing about him…it would be real. I could give myself to him, take what I needed from him. I shivered with anticipation.
I didn't tell Casey about my plan to transport Bryce's ashes to Lisbon. It was my cover, my reason for leaving Burbank, something that was a legitimate cover for my leaving to run away with Chuck. I had orders to stay put, of course, but I was done taking orders from Beckman or anyone else in the CIA. I was running with Chuck, keeping him out of their hands, keeping him safe, with me.
I packed my bags and packed the things I had bought for Chuck in the bag I had purchased for him. I didn't officially check-out of the Maison23, knowing it would alert the CIA of my intention of not coming back. I would have to leave my car at the airport; I loved that car, but, I told myself, it was just a car, and it was the last part of that life I was leaving behind. I stashed the luggage in the trunk of my car and drove to the funeral home to retrieve the urn with Bryce's ashes.
No matter how much you tell yourself you're prepared, nothing can prepare you for a moment like that. Bryce Larkin, spy extraordinaire, dashing and handsome and alive…now all that was left of him was in a metal canister the size of a bottle of juice. I was surprised at how heavy it was, until I forced myself to realize that this was still his body, just reduced to dust, ash. I got the certificate from the mortuary that would help me take the urn through customs.
The plan was three days in Lisbon. I was supposed to be in Burbank, but the not-secret secret of my side trip to Lisbon would mask the real destination–Prague. No one could know my final destination was Prague, because they knew I would have been there for Chuck. Beckman had forbidden both Casey and me from contacting him at all while he was training.
I was able to stay in the same room, the room I had stayed in the night Bryce came to my room and we had sex, what I felt was the first time I had had sex like a normal person…looking at each other, kissing each other…while we enjoyed each other.
I walked onto the balcony with the urn, looking down at the same garden I had seen that night in the past. I talked to Bryce again, but only in my head. I told him that in just a day or so, I would be with Chuck. That I had done what he had wanted me to do, exactly as he'd explained it in his spy will. Rest in peace, Bryce. I'll be ok now.
There was an ulterior motive to that balcony walk, however. It was always possible that somehow, someway, I would be under surveillance. It was just the nature of the CIA. Once you worked for them, you became acutely aware of just how many eyes could be on you at any time. Stepping outside like that was my alibi, my proof as to why I had gone off the grid. It would also throw them off the real trail, once I left this hotel under a different name.
I was right to do that. I was under scrutiny by the CIA while I was at the hotel, although I didn't learn this until months after I would be reunited with Chuck. The reason for the surveillance was actually a precaution put in place by The Ring experts in the CIA, a first defense against potential double or rogue agents.
I placed Bryce's ashes where he had indicated he wanted them. The hotel had a record of his request, just as he had explained. The groundskeeper had even dug a hole. I placed the urn inside and he shoveled the dirt over the urn, packing it down until it disappeared. I stood in silence for a few moments. I thanked Bryce one last time, then left to pack my things and get ready for my flight to Prague.
As a frozen moment in time, lying in the queen-size bed alone, I was so excited I couldn't fall asleep. This would be the last night I would ever sleep alone, I told myself. The next night, we would be together, sleeping in the same bed.
It was from that impossible height that in just 12 hours, I would crash to the earth and shatter into a thousand pieces. So many pieces that even when I was able to put myself back together again, I was never the same.
I chose my outfit so carefully the next day. I spent a long time doing my makeup and my hair. I wanted everything to be perfect. I was walking away from the shadows into the light, from what was fake to what was real. At last.
The flight was quick and I took a taxi from the airport straight to the train station, although I got out one block away so I could evade the security cameras. I was a little early, but I waited. In my mind, I had thought maybe Chuck would have been early, excited to see me after such a long time. He wasn't early; he wasn't even on time. He was a little bit late.
I forgot all about it, forgot about everything else, when I finally saw him. His hair was different, not the same mop of curls he had always worn. His hair was still curly, but groomed, cut short in the back and combed over his forehead. My first thought was that it made him look older, more sophisticated, but I liked it. It suited him. He was wearing an expensive suit, gray, with a matching overcoat and shiny polished dress shoes.
I turned around, saw him and I smiled. He saw me and paused, smiling. I should have noticed right then–the smile wasn't the same. It was flat, weak, not the beaming smile that I loved so much. I was just so happy to see him again, to see him here, waiting to leave with me, I let myself ignore the things that were bothering me. His missing smile, his pauses, the hesitation and how he clenched his fists tight while he was walking, like he was stealing his nerves.
Even though we are together, married happily for so many years and this moment from the past is a faded memory, this is painful to retell. Few moments in my life have done as much damage as this scene. I think that's lucky, telling of how happy my life has been. Everyone has pain–that's just life. My life, as you've heard all along, was never easy, from the youngest age I remember. Just sad, unfortunate events strung together.
This was worse. This was worse because it wasn't just another tragedy. I had finally decided what I wanted…and then it was taken away. Tragic irony. Tragic too because I misunderstood. Because I let the pain nearly destroy me–since I had no way to protect myself. I had never given my heart to anyone–that meant giving that other person the power to hurt you. I had spent my life protecting myself.
Only to finally let the walls down, letting someone in. Letting Chuck in. Because I believed with absolute certainty that he would never hurt me.
Perhaps a childish, immature point of view. For it was true, you could say, that I was like a child when it came to my feelings. I wasn't connected to my own feelings, to my own self. I didn't know what love truly meant, what it entailed, what it could endure.
Loving someone is giving them the power to hurt you. And even if someone loves you beyond reason, trust me, at some point in your life, they will hurt you. Love is painful. It's the only thing I know of that is so contrary in its nature. It is soft, gentle, yet stronger than diamonds and barbed on every edge. It can live forever, conquer death, yet die so easily when it is ignored.
Everything I ever learned about love, I learned from Chuck. Even the parts that hurt, the parts that must break you into pieces so you are able to build yourself back stronger.
Chuck never once in his life ever intentionally hurt me, maliciously causing pain. He couldn't even defend himself when I almost killed him…because he could not bear to hurt me in any way. But he knew no matter how he tried, he was destined to hurt me, just like I was destined to hurt him. I think of it like exercise. Muscles, aching after a workout, heal stronger. That is love.
I didn't understand any of that here, and I wouldn't, not for a long, painful time.
My heart was racing and I could hardly breathe. He stopped about a foot in front of me. The first thing I noticed was that he smelled differently.
A strange thought, but I've since learned how memory works, more than I ever knew before. Scents are primal, almost instinctive, pulling memories from deep in our subconscious. He was wearing different cologne than he normally did. Logically, I mean, of course he was wearing different cologne. He was in the Czech Republic. He didn't pack anything from home.
But it was…strangely upsetting. I knew what Chuck smelled like, in person, in my dreams. I could pick that scent out in the store, stop dead in my tracks when I smelled it on someone else. It made him seem like a stranger, not known to me.
Subconsciously, I must have been picking up a strange vibe from him, just a nagging whisper in the back of my mind. I never thought it strange that he didn't hug me, even reach for me. He was here, everything was alright. I had to tell myself that, which should also have bothered me.
"Here is your ticket and your new passport. Your name is Hector Caldaron." He took the papers from me, keeping his head bent and his eyes averted.
"Sarah, wait." He looked up. His voice was sharper than I had anticipated, dreaming about seeing him again after three weeks. His eyes were distant too, although I know I only see that in my memory. I was in my own world, overconfident and happy…and blind.
"We have plenty of time to talk on the train. Right now we have to act fast." I needed to get us out of sight, away from security cameras and other people who could identify us. I smiled, huffed out a soft laugh. "Trust me, Chuck. It's all going to work out fine."
He would tell me later that my love was almost beaming from my eyes at that moment. I'm sure it was, which was why that entire scene went down the way it did. He didn't know if he had the strength to do what he thought he had to. Acknowledging my feelings and the fact that he was about to hurt me only made it harder.
He didn't say anything. I watched him swallow, almost painfully. Again, he couldn't speak, and he almost choked because his mouth was so dry.
I lunged forward and kissed him, thinking whatever it was that seemed to be bothering him would go away if I just reminded him. I took both sides of his face in my hands and pressed my lips against his. He put his hands on my back, but never pulled me closer. It was almost like he was holding me away from him. He did kiss me back, but weakly, soft pecks while I was vigorously kissing him.
I had to stop, worry and fear starting to shout louder in the back of my head. His eyes were closed. I looked at his lips, watched him almost seal his lips closed. His jaw was so tight he was almost trembling.
I took a step back when he opened his eyes, looking down at me through his eyelashes. He looked…sad. Like he had that night he sat beside me on the fountain in Echo Park and told me I would never be normal, that I wasn't what he really wanted.
"That's not the kiss that I was expecting." I didn't know what else to say. I could feel the wind howling in the space between us on the sidewalk. The rift seemed to widening the longer I stood there, looking at him.
"Sarah, there's an entire facility here dedicated and designed to turn me into Intersect 2.0. I mean, think about it. Me, a real spy, you know, living a life of adventure, and doing things that really matter."
What? What was he saying?
I closed my eyes, feeling almost dizzy, feeling like I had felt sitting in Castle talking to Bryce's body.
"It's not that simple. You don't know who you're working for. It's complicated. Nothing is real." Why did he think that? Some romanticized version of what my life had been? Being a spy had taken almost all of my life away. I was here trying to get it back.
Only I had never told him anything. Nothing. At that point in time, he still thought I chose the CIA for myself because it was something I believed in. That I wanted to save the world with Bryce, or men like Bryce. I had always protected him from the harshness of that life.
Maybe someone stronger would have just walked away there, let it alone. But I was desperate again, broken worse than I had been in Castle surrounded by dead people. My life, surrounded by dead people. People I had killed. People who had been killed. Sam. Bryce.
Chuck…I couldn't lose him too.
"This," I reached down and grabbed his hands, pulling them towards me. "This is simple. This is a real life." I was begging, using his own words against him, trying to get him to remember.
I could have told him I loved him. I didn't because I didn't know how. Looking back, I'm glad that I didn't, because all it would have done was hurt him worse than he was already hurting. It wouldn't have changed his mind.
Would it have prompted him to give me a better explanation? The one he would give six months later, that I only heard in full because Carina gave me the recording? Maybe, but I also think it wouldn't have. He didn't explain himself here. That lack of explanation absolutely destroyed me.
But he couldn't have said all of those things that he said in Karl's vault here, standing on the platform with me. He told me later, and I know, walking away from me was one of the hardest things he'd ever done in his life. Probably the only thing that was worse hadn't happened yet–watching his father die in his arms. It was poor communication, from both of us, but he was stretched to his limit and about to break.
The span of time between here and the next time I saw him was about trying to forgive him. For telling me he would run and then changing his mind. For not explaining any better than they way he did, making me feel like he chose to be a spy rather than be with me.
We stood there in silence. The conductor rang the bell from the train. "We have to go, Chuck. This is it. Are you coming?"
My eyes started burning. I knew he wasn't coming. I hadn't said anything that changed his mind. He didn't answer at all. He made a nervous, twitch of a smirk, looked away, then pulled his hand from mine and tucked his papers into my hand.
"I can't. I'm sorry."
I went deaf for a few seconds. Then I heard my blood rushing behind my eardrums. My field of vision narrowed to only the passport Chuck had pressed into my hand. I couldn't breathe. He was looking at me, but I had to look away. I tried to close my mouth, swallow, but my throat felt swollen.
I just stood there as he turned his back and walked away, with the same stride as he had walked towards me. I watched until he was out of my field of view.
He never turned around.
