love keeps her in the air

Fic: Birds and Ships (3/?)

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 02:23:59 GMT

Title: Bird and Ships (3/?)
Words: 4,069
Summary: The continuation of the Book of David.
Spoliers: Through season one.
Disclaimer: Not mine! If it were, there WOULD be a second season.
Rating: PG-13 for now.
Character/Pairings: Michelle-centric in this chapter, David later, with appearances from Hanna and Silas.
Warnings: Aaaaaaaaaangst.
Author’s Notes: Chapter 3! This took me a looooong time to write. I think the next chapter's going to take me even longer. SIGH. How did I get myself into this??

Chapter Three

This is my winter song to you, the storm is coming soon, it rolls in from the sea
My voice; a beacon in the night, my words will be your light, to carry you to me.
Is love alive? 
They say that things just cannot grow beneath the winter snow, or so I have been told.
They say we’re buried far, just like a distant star; I simply cannot hold.
Is love alive?
This is my winter song. December never felt so wrong, ‘cause you’re not where you belong; inside my arms.
I still believe in summer days, the seasons always change and life will find a way.
I’ll be your harvester of light and send it out tonight, so we can start again.
Is love alive?
Winter Song – Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson
--
Michelle tugs her deep purple jacket more tightly around her body, not so much because she is cold but because she feels like she needs pressure to hold herself together. She steps back inside the palace, hands curled in the thick, velvet material and thinks that she would almost rather be back in her little house by the sea.

“Well done, puppy!” says the king, walking over to her with a smile and clapping his hand on her shoulder. Her mother has already left the room to make preparations for her welcoming banquet, without any word of comfort for her daughter. He rubs the back of her neck in what he believes is comforting, but she barely refrains from flinching away from the touch. “They love you, just as they always did, and now that there’s no question about your loyalty – “

“My loyalty?” she says, stepping away from him but turning to face him. “There was never any question of my loyalty, father.”

The king raises his eyebrows in that way that conveys calculated surprise. “I see a year in exile has done nothing to dull the sharpness of your tongue.”

Michelle thinks of Samuel, of Ellie, of David. “No. In fact, I suspect it has done the opposite.”

Before he can reply, she ducks out of the room, her heeled shoes clicking on the marble floor, and all but runs up to her rooms. When she is safely inside the doors, she presses her back to them and forces herself to take deep, steady breaths. She is shaking, shaking from the effort of holding herself together, of keeping herself from screaming at her father, her mother, the entire public that has gathered in front of the palace to stare at the princess so recently returned from exile. It makes her sick.

She presses a hand to her belly and has to swallow back a lump in her throat. Inside of her is a gaping emptiness where Sam and Ellie should be. Her mother gave her one day to spend with her children before Hanna gently took them from the bed and Michelle watched them walk out the door, too weak to protest.

Staring at the rooms she hasn’t seen in a year, she wonders how two tiny beings can have made such a mark on her in such a short period of time. She feels like something vital has been torn from her chest against her will. And yet her mother goes about her daily business as if nothing has happened. She says she has to, because the king can never know what happened, and yet Michelle can’t help but feel extraordinarily angry at her.

It’s evening now, and her mother has let her know that they won’t be expecting her at dinner because the king has an issue of state to attend to. Michelle thinks that she would have skipped dinner anyway, but
welcomes the excuse.

Wearily, she walks deeper into her rooms and begins looking around. Someone has set out tea for her, and she pours a cup with shaking hands before setting it down when it rattles too much.

She can’t believe she is here, just sitting and drinking tea and playing along on the ridiculous charade her mother has going. If she had slightly less control over herself, she would throw this teacup to the ground and run through the palace screaming her head off in anger and frustration.

As it happens, Michelle is extraordinarily self-controlled.

Touching the rim of the teacup with her finger, she sighs. Just as it seems strange that her small children have left such a hole in her life, it seems strange that David, though she only knew him for a short time, can have left a similar hole. The palace, though she lived here years before she knew him, seems like a completely different place now that he is gone.

And he is gone. Sometimes, as she is attempting to fall asleep, Michelle likes to think that he is still out there somewhere, alive and trying to get back to her. She imagines what it would be like to see him again, to wrap her arms around his solid warmth, to bury her face in the crook between his neck and shoulder.

But Michelle knows what Death feels like. Sometimes she thinks she hears music, a slow march-like tune playing in the distance. But when she turns her head just slightly, it’s gone. The feeling of Death is just behind her, just over her shoulder. She knows the feeling.

Sometimes she wonders why she didn’t feel it that night in the church, with Reverend Samuels. But now she knows it was because they were in a sacred space, that God was speaking to them through the Reverend.

So, alone in her room, Michelle falls asleep.

--

In her dream, there is a woman. She is tall, with long hair that falls in a sheet down her back. Thin and elegant, she walks with a surety that Michelle envies for an instant before she feels the fear creeping through her veins. This woman terrifies her.

She doesn’t say a thing, but there is a knowing look in her dark, flat eyes.

The scene changes, and she is standing beside a golden throne, one hand resting on the shoulder. In the throne, staring at her, is her father. He is looking at her with such heart-wrenching sorrow and love in his eyes that for a moment Michelle can’t breathe. The woman slowly places her hand on the king’s shoulder and her flat eyes lock with Michelle’s. She smiles.

Michelle wakes gasping for air, tangled in her sweaty sheets.

--

She walks through the next few days like she is mostly asleep, nodding and smiling blandly when spoken to, sitting quietly and unobtrusively in the background and letting her parents steer her where they wish. It’s been a while since she’s stopped thinking of them as her parents, though.

Her thoughts are consumed with longing for her children and David, with questions about her dream. She wishes desperately that she had someone to talk to – God, Reverend Samuels, Hanna, anyone. Instead, she is unobtrusive and ignored.

She spends a lot of her time on the roof overlooking the city. Her mother never comes here and her father…well, he used to come here to speak with God, but he stopped coming here some time ago, right after her exile. Something tells her he doesn’t like the silence.

From up here, she can look out at the city her father built out of the dust. It surrounds her, engulfs her, suffocates her. She used to love it, to think it signified hope out of the darkest of times, that it was the paradise she woke to see out of her sickness. Now it’s just a reminder of everything that happened in those days. The Days of Revelation, her mother called them. Perhaps they mean clairvoyance, but Michelle can only sense an end. Utter destruction.

Wrapping her arms around herself – it is early spring and yet she still feels chilled – she tilts her head back, staring at the scattered clouds above her head.

Something rushes past her, the wind from its wings brushing her cheek. Looking, she sees the deep orange wings of a butterfly, fluttering out beyond the edge of the building. Its black-splattered wings are buffeted by the wind, but somehow it manages to stay relatively close to the building. Michelle doesn’t know whether to smile or cry when she sees it.

It doesn’t matter that the butterfly is the symbol of her father, of Gilboa. Butterflies will always remind her of David.

--

That night, the dream is different. It begins the same, with the woman standing nose-to-nose with her, those flat, dark eyes making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. The woman smiles with somber knowledge and Michelle thinks she hears music.

Then the scene changes. They are in the meeting hall, and the sky outside the glass wall is pale with sunlight. She sees people in the seats, all still and silent. Her mother stands to the side, head turned away. The Reverend stands behind the throne, hands on the shoulders of the chair. The Lady Death, for that is what Michelle knows her to be, stands at the opposite end of the table as her mother and her eyes follow Michelle. Everything is completely still, the silence echoing in her ears.

She sees herself, then, standing just to the left of the chair. She’s wearing blue and her eyes are bright. It’s then that Michelle sees who is in the chair.

It’s David, and she can sense without needing any sort of clues that he is the king.

Her breath catches. This must be some sort of wish fulfillment on the part of her mind, because David is dead. David is dead, and yet here he is. Goosebumps break out all across her skin to see him again, living and breathing and looking at her with such calm surety.

She knows what she has always suspected: David was meant to be the king. He was chosen. It was his fate.
She wakes trembling, and when she realizes that she is alone in her room, she curls into a ball and cries, overwhelmed with longing and self-pity.

--

It’s then that she decides to go out to Alter Mansion, to get away from her parents, to get away from the hole left in the palace by her children, by David, by Jack. She tries not to think about it, but even the absence of her brother, though he acted terribly at the end, leaves a dull ache in her bones. She needs to leave.

As she sits on the porch in the warming sunlight, she finds it almost amusing that after a year of exile, she still wants to be alone.

“Princess?”

For a moment, Michelle thinks it’s just a housemaid, but then she recognizes the voice. She spins in her chair, all but leaping to her feet. “Hanna?”

The woman smiles hesitantly, her eyes sweeping over Michelle. “Hello.” Michelle ignores all etiquette and all but throws herself at Hanna, wrapping her arms tightly around Hanna and not letting go. “Oh, dear,” Hanna says, half fond and half surprised. “I didn’t realize you’d be so lacking in company now that you’re back in favor with the king.”

Michelle pulled away. “I’m not back in favor with the king. He just feels he’s won because I played along with his little game.” She swallowed back a lump in her throat. “Hanna, how did you get here? And how are Sam and Ellie?”

At the mention of their names, Hanna’s mouth widens into a smile. “They’re beautiful, Michelle. Wonderful. Well, they’re still not sleeping through the night and your young Samuel cries a lot, but they’re babies. That’s what they’re supposed to do.” Hanna smoothes a hand over Michelle’s hair and the princess hangs on her every word. “As for the other question, don’t worry yourself about it.”

Michelle swallows and glances around her. “Where are they? Can I see them?”

Hanna smiles. “Why do you think I came? There aren’t reporters allowed out here and I know a few people in the kitchens who will let us leave and won’t tell anyone. Some people see your father for what he truly is, and know what you did for David Shepherd.” Taking Michelle’s hand, she leads her quickly through the mansion, ducking into the servants’ corridors and hurrying out a hidden door different from the one Michelle knew about.

Soon they are driving along a crowded road. Michelle stares out the window and watches the people outside, happy to see people again who aren’t her own family.

Hanna pulls into the driveway of a completely normal looking house and Michelle’s heart jumps up to her throat. Beckoning her, Hanna leads her up the steps.

The twins are in a small room that is pale yellow with early morning sunlight. Michelle barely notices Hanna speaking with another woman who must have been looking after the napping children because she is too caught up in the sight of the two small forms in their cribs.

It feels like hours that she spends studying them, her eyes cloudy with tears. Now that she isn’t bone weary and destroyed by grief, she has the time to look at both of them more carefully. Ellie, she sees, has a soft smattering of blonde hair on her head, and a mouth she thinks looks like David’s, but more delicate. Samuel has dark hair, like her, and while she watches he opens his big green eyes and blinks up at her. She smiles nervously down at him.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” she whispers, reaching down to stroke his cheek. Fear bubbles up in her stomach, fear that they won’t recognize her as their mother, that she will never be part of their lives.

Samuel reaches up and grabs her finger, holding onto it with a surprisingly strong grip. Her breath catches. He doesn’t smile, just looks seriously up at her and holds on to her finger.

When Hanna comes in a short time later, Samuel has fallen asleep holding his mother’s finger, and she is quietly weeping, a hand covering her mouth.

--

Her father comes to visit her at Alter Mansion, once. Feeling sick to her stomach, she greets him in the front hall as he sweeps in with his entourage trailing behind him. She sees, with no small amount of disgust, that he has given his biographer a break.

“Puppy,” he says cheerfully upon seeing her, wrapping her up in his arms and kissing her cheek. A year and a half ago, she would have loved this. Now, it makes her want to do something violent. “Come, sit down. You and I haven’t spoken since you got back.” He steers her into the library, with its lush couches, high bookshelves and dark spaces.

Sitting tensely on the edge of the couch, Michelle raises her eyebrows. “You make it sound like I was on vacation.”

Her father shrugs. “Considering your crime, the punishment was not that severe.” She swallows back the bile in her throat, along with the words of protest she so desperately wants to say. Her crime, her nonexistent crime, could still get her killed if she doesn’t watch what she says. And now she has more than herself to live for. Before, she had been willing to give up her life for David, but now that he is gone she has to keep herself alive for her children. So she grits her teeth and smiles. “Your mother made sure it was as close to a vacation as possible, for all that it was exile for treason.” He isn’t even looking at her as he says the words carelessly, but instead looking around the room as if he hasn’t seen it in a long time.

Michelle’s control crumbles. “Like Jack’s punishment? Somehow I don’t think people usually kill themselves while on vacation.” At this, her father turns and looks at her steadily. The look in his eyes makes her stomach turn over. In quiet disbelief, she says, “You aren’t sorry, are you?” When he doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking at her, she has to look away and swallow back the disgust rising in her throat.

Standing abruptly, she makes her way towards the door. “I’m tired. I think I need to lie down.”

As she leaves, she hears him call calmly after her, “See you at dinner, puppy.”

--

After dinner, Michelle retreats up to her room again, claiming exhaustion again. She shuts the door behind her, the lights still off, and just breathes for a second, trying to clear her head. It doesn’t work. There is too much anger boiling up inside of her, anger she isn’t aloud to show. How can this man be her father? What happened to the man that read her stories when she was dying and made a city out of ashes?

A sound in the dim room makes her jump. She freezes, her eyes automatically sweeping through the dark cavern her room has suddenly turned into, and suddenly realizes that there is someone in the room other than herself. Glancing around, she finds some sort of decorative crystal sculpture to her right and grabs it, arming herself and then creeping through her darkened rooms.

She is almost to the bedroom when there is another noise, this time behind her. She spins around and nearly has a heart attack when she sees a tall, dark shape much closer to her than she thought. Instinctively, she bites back her scream and swings the sculpture at her attacker. It connects and he – it’s definitely a ‘he’ – lets out a muffled yell. Michelle stops short at the noise.

“David?” she says disbelievingly.

“Did you really have to attack me?” he says wryly, and in the darkness she can see he is holding his left shoulder. “I guess it could have been worse, but – “

Heart thundering in her chest to the point of bursting, Michelle darts sideways and fumbles to turn on a lamp as quickly as possible. She has to – she can’t let herself think that he’s alive until she actually sees him in the light. The room is flooded with dim golden light and there he is, alive and ragged looking, holding a shoulder that looks like it’s bleeding through his shirt.

With a strangled gasp, Michelle all but throws herself at him, her arms finding their way around his body like they’ve never been apart. He hisses in a breath as she bumps his shoulder, but he embraces her back, tightly but not as desperately as she is embracing him.

Pulling back, Michelle is seized by a sudden rage and shoves him back from her. Ignoring his shocked look and fervently fighting back tears, she barely remembers to keep her voice at an angry whisper. “I thought you were dead, David. You were executed. Where the hell have you been?”

David’s eyebrows rise in disbelief. “I’ve been in Gath, Michelle, remember? Far, far away from here.” Michelle claps a hand over her mouth, as if that will contain all of the emotions building up inside of her.

“Why did you try to get word to me that you were alive?” she says through her fingers, voice low and choked but still angry.

“Because I was far away, and besides, I didn’t know you thought I was dead.” His voice softens, then. “I didn’t even know you were in exile until I finally went into a town and saw a newspaper. That was the point of me going to Gath, Michelle. To hide.”

She knows she’s overreacting and that his words make sense, and she doesn’t know why she’s angry instead of joyful that he is alive, but nothing seems to be making sense right now. “I thought you were dead,” she repeats flatly. His expression changes and he reaches for her but pauses, like he’s unsure if he can touch her or not. She reaches for him and then they’re holding each other again, one of his hands in her hair and her arm avoiding his injured shoulder. “I’m sorry I hit you with the sculpture,” she says, her voice muffled from being buried in his good shoulder. She feels him shudder with laughter.

“No problem.” His lips press against the top of her head. She shifts her head, trying to be as close to him as possible. Her heart is pounding, because it still seems impossible that her mother lied to her and that he’s here, mostly unharmed and holding her like he used to. As she moves her head, she feels something underneath his shirt.

“What’s that?” she says quietly, looking at the lump curiously. He lets go of her with one arm to reach under his shirt and pull out a thin chain. On the chain, dangling at the end, is the ring she gave him that night in the church. “I couldn’t wear it on my finger without getting unwelcome questions, so I had to improvise.” He wrinkles his nose down at her. “Too cliché?”

She gives him a watery smile. “A little, but I like it.”

Their eyes meet then, and for Michelle’s heart stumbles as she realizes yet again that he is here and he is alive and why is she wasting all this time talking? She sees something similar going through his mind, and his eyes slip down to her lips.

They come together hesitantly, like they did back at the beginning, halting a breath away from each other before letting their lips touch, sucking in a breath at the last minute in anticipation. At the feel of his warm, soft lips on hers, Michelle feels a fiery feeling of possession course through her. This man is hers, and she is never losing him again. His hand slides down to her hip, the other tangling in her hair and cupping the back of her head, his kisses becoming deeper and more desperate the more they continue.

With a sudden shock through her passion-clouded mind, Michelle realizes he doesn’t know anything that happened to her in the past year. Jerking back, she takes a deep breath. “David, there’s something I need to tell you.”

He is about to tilt her head up for another kiss, but he stops short, the worry line between his brows deepening. “What is it?”

She runs a hand over her face, trying to get her heart rate back somewhere near normal before tells him the thing that will change his life forever. “You might want to sit down.” He, of course, shakes his head and remains standing. Taking another deep breath, Michele figures it is best to just say it. “The reason why I didn’t show up to your trial, David, wasn’t because I didn’t want to. There was nothing I wanted more. But that morning, I found out I was pregnant.” She watches the information wash over him, watches his face change from confusion to shock to amazement. She smiles hesitantly. “I wasn’t supposed to be able to have children. My mother convinced me that if I had anything to do with you, my father would come after me. She sent me into exile to keep me away from him, so he would never know.” She swallows. “While I was in exile, a doctor visited me regularly, and I found out that not only was I pregnant…I was pregnant with twins.” The shock reappears on David’s face and his mouth opens in awe.

“Twins?” he repeats softly. She nods, her smile breaking into a grin.

“They’re beautiful,” she says. “I hope you can see them soon.”

His mouth falls open in amazement again. “You…had them?”

She laughs a little nervously. “Well I’m not exactly pregnant right now, am I?”

Making a low noise of astonishment in his throat, David steps forward and wraps her in his arms, burying his face in her hair. “I can’t believe it. I can’t…what are their names? Are they boys or girls or – “

Stroking his back, she laughs a little again. “One boy, one girl. Samuel and Ellie.”

He pulls back and cups her face in his hands, staring seriously into her eyes. “For Reverend Samuels…and Eli?” When she nods, he pulls her face to his and kisses her, hard. “I love you.”

The words whirl like butterflies in her stomach. “I love you,” she says back between kisses. “But what are we going to do now that you’re back? My father is right downstairs, and I – “

Still holding her, David pulls back and looks at her directly. “When I was in Gath, I…I realized something. I left before because I was afraid for my life, and afraid that I would drag you down with me, and too afraid to stay and see Silas ruin Gilboa again.” There’s something about him at this moment that makes Michelle’s heart pound in anticipation. “But I’m not afraid anymore,” he says with a smile. “And I know what I have to do.”

“What do you have to do?” Michelle asks, remembering her dream.

“I have to take down Silas,” he says.

Fic: Birds and Ships (2/?)

Fri, 18 Sep 2009 06:02:03 GMT

Title: Bird and Ships (2/?)
Words: 3,290
Summary: The continuation of the Book of David.
Spoliers: Through season one.
Disclaimer: Not mine! If it were, there WOULD be a second season.
Rating: PG-13 for now.
Character/Pairings: Michelle-centric in this chapter, David later, with appearances from Rose and an OC.
Warnings: Aaaaaaaaaangst.
Author’s Notes: I just realized that I never posted this (when it's been up on FF.net for, like, weeks and weeks). FAIL. Anyway, here's this! :)

Chapter Two

We were never meant to be this damn broken
Words were never meant to be this half spoken
Fallin’ in the space between the universe and all we see has gone away
Gone away

Wind in circles take me back to
A place I knew when I was with you
Fallin’ in the space between the universe and all we see has gone away
Gone away
Gone Away – Lucy Schwartz

--

David Shepherd isn’t terribly good at disappearing. Before the war, before he went to Shiloh, he had barely been out of his home town. The war changed everything, though.

As David stumbles through the dark undergrowth of a forest in Gath, he thinks about how much he hates war. War took his father, his older brother. War tore his family apart. War gave Silas an edge that only rulers during war can attain, the extreme surety of a nation backing their leader. David hates war.

But, then again, if he hadn’t gone to war, he never would have gone to the city. Never would have seen what the world was really like. Never would have met Michelle.

The thought stabs his heart. Feeling the weariness swell up and almost overwhelm him, he sags against a nearby tree, panting, and takes a long drink from his water canteen. The forest is dim around him, all of the shapes blending together in the grayish darkness. It has been nearly five days since his voluntary exile from Gilboa, and he has yet to really figure out where he is going. So he hikes north, avoiding main roads and towns.

David checks his light pack, and knows he’ll have to go to a town at some point to buy more food. There’s only so much he can scavenge from the woods – he’s a farmer and not a hunter, after all.

With a sigh, he tilts his head back against the rough bark of the tree and looks up through the branches at the stars. There are just a few of them between the clouds, but they’re there. And there’s the north star.

Shouldering his pack again, David keeps walking.

--

Nearly twenty days into his exile, David has to go into a town. He has lost weight from the intense rationing of his supplies – the longer he can go without food means the farther away from the border he can get and the less likely it is someone will recognize his face.

As he wearily walks up the street of a small town, his heavy boots covered in mud and dragging in the dirt, he wonders vaguely if he is about the be captured and shipped back to Gilboa without a second thought. He’s fairly certain that if that happens, he’ll be dead before the press can even get wind he’s back in the country.

The door above the shop door gives a little ring as he walks in, and David almost jumps. After so much time in the wilderness, straining to hear every little sound, something as loud as a bell seems deafening to his ears.

When he has grabbed all the supplies to last him for what he hopes is another month, he walks to the counter. David tries to swallow, but his throat is too dry. The shop owner scans all of his items and then tells David the amount. “Going camping or something?” says the shop owner, not in an unfriendly manner.

David shrugs. “Um, something like that.”

“There are some pretty good trails a bit to the east,” the man says contemplatively as David pays him with Gath currency. “Not very crowded this time of year, since it’s getting so cold.” He gives David a somewhat stern look. “Don’t go hiking too late in the season, or you’ll get caught in a snowstorm.”

“Right. Thank you.” David smiles faintly and takes the bag of food. As he is about to walk out the door, he sees a newspaper in a stand with Michelle’s picture on the front. His heart stumbles and he stops. Picking it up, the headline nearly makes him drop the paper. “The princess of Gilboa has been exiled?”

The shop owner shrugs. “Yeah, for a year. That paper’s old as hell, though.”

Nodding dully, David puts the paper back. His heart is hammering painfully in his chest. He walks out of the store, shoving the bag of food bleakly in his half-empty pack. Strapping it up and swinging it back onto his back, he takes a deep breath and walks down the road.

At the end of the street, he turns off to the right and walks back into the woods, heading east.

--

At night, as he lies under the trees and tries to sleep, he has a lot of time to think. And, mostly, he thinks about Michelle.

There is a root digging deeply into his back, but as David shifts restlessly he tries to remember what it felt like to be tangled up in her white sheets on the floor, her skin warm from the glow of the fire.

He misses her so much sometimes that it’s like a wound has opened up in the center of his chest and the breath gets sucked from his lungs. Her smile, her very slightly awkward pattern of speech, her wish to do good in a world where everyone around her seemed to want to do the opposite. He wonders is she misses him, wherever they’re keeping her.

A twig snaps somewhere deep in the bush and he jerks awake, shooting up into a seated position. His hands automatically reach for the gun that isn’t by his side. Even though the noise is only an animal moving somewhere in the dark, David is now on edge. He knows, logically, that if he were caught in Gath, having weapons would probably mean his death. Still, the soldier in him feels bare and vulnerable without one.

His heart begins to settle in his chest, and David lies back down on the hard ground. Closing his eyes, he tries to sink back into his reverie. He can’t quite decide if thinking of Michelle makes this more bearable or more horrific.

--

Over two months in to David’s exile to the wilderness, he kills his first animal.

Though it is not technically his first kill, because he had to put down animals on the farm growing up and he has killed men in war before, it is the first time he has killed for something other than duty.

The deer has a broken leg when he finds it, at the bottom of a small hill near a highway. It has been hit by a car, and is too injured to move but not dead.

David approaches it slowly, feeling bile rise in his throat. His pity for this innocent creature is threatening to overwhelm him, but he grew up on a farm. When an animal is this badly injured, it’s only cruel to let them continue to suffer.

The deer struggles to rise as he gets closer, but David knows what he has to do and does so quickly.

Later, as he wipes the warm blood from his hands, he wonders what Michelle would think of him now.

--

When Silas sent David to find the Charter, David could feel something building inside of him. At first it was outright determination, boiling just under the surface and giving him the drive to keep going even when there were no clues, when the trail seemed to have gone dead. Then, slowly, it began to morph into something else. Something dark that kept him going but wore him deeper and deeper into the ground until the weight of it felt like it was about to suffocate him.

That’s when David started drinking.

David is not a dark person. He tries to find the goodness, to find the hope, in any situation he finds himself in. But some situations are just too hopeless to have any answer other than defeat or disaster.

He’s starting to think this is one of them.

He is a man that needs a mission. He needs direction. Now, winter is coming, and he doesn’t have any sort of aim as to where he’s going. It has been almost three and a half months, and if he’s honest with himself, David’s getting tired of living in the woods. There is nowhere he is headed towards, only somewhere he’s running from, and the prospect of having to do this for months and months with no end in sight is beginning to wear on him like the Charter mission did.

So, the next time he happens across a town, David walks into it instead of around it.

The sign says ‘Kincaid Place’ and the windows are dark. David didn’t even have the energy to be nervous as he pushed open the doors; all he could think about was the long drink of something he was going to have when he got inside.

It is dim inside, the only real light coming from the big windows along one wall. There aren’t very many people, so David goes straight to the bar. The bartender, a man in his mid-forties, sighs and comes up to David.

“What can I get you?”

“Whatever’s cheapest,” replies David. His voice comes out as a horrible rasp from being used so little. The barkeep gives him a slightly strange look, but nods and complies. David shrugs off his pack, every limb aching with exhaustion, and sits at a stool, resting his elbows against the bar.

“Here you go. Don’t ask me what it is.” David downs it in one gulp. “Woah. You’re eager. Been a rough day?” His eyes roam over David’s ragged clothes and unshaven face. “Or maybe a rough few months?”

“The last one,” says David, throat burning from the drink, which tasted closer to rubbing alcohol than hard liquor.

“Hm,” hums the bartender. “Want another?”

“No, I’m good for now. Thank you.” David rests his forehead in his hands, expecting the bartender to go away and to be able to think in peace. The bartender, however, doesn’t do as he expects.

“Let me guess. A girl?”

David lets loose a breathy laugh at the bartender’s lack of tact. He lifts his head, the movement feeling like lifting lead weights, and meets the barkeep’s expectant gaze. “That’s part of it.”

“She must have done some number on you,” the bartender says, a little touch of sarcasm creeping into his tone.

David laughs, his voice cracking a little. He’s not sure the last time he laughed. “No, no, she wasn’t what happened to me. Well, she was, but she didn’t make me like this.”

“Oh?” said the barkeep curiously. “What did?” David looks at him steadily until the barkeep holds up his hands in defeat. “Alright, alright. Too many questions. I get it.” Silence falls over them and David looks down at his hands. “You understand,” the bartender begins again, “I’m just curious because of your accent. Sounds like you come from close to the border. That’s a long way from here.”

David looks up, and suddenly the bartender doesn’t seem so harmless. There’s a sharpness in his gaze that makes David thinks he knows more than he’s letting on. Slapping some money down on the bar, he stands. “Thanks for the drink.”

“Oh, don’t go! Don’t go,” says the bartender quickly, holding up his hands. “I mean you no harm, David Shepherd.”

It’s as if someone has poured an icy bucket of water over his head. Instantly, David whips around, gaze hard, and steps closer to the bar. “Be quiet,” he hisses angrily. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The bartender motions for David to follow him. In an instant, David is reminded of his search for the Charter and what happens when you place your trust in the wrong people. It is then, however, that he notices that the man has a tiny tattoo of a butterfly behind his ear, almost entirely hidden by his hair.

David follows.

In a dim back room, the man turns and sits down, smiling at David amicably. “My name is Alec Warsaw. I’m originally from Gilboa.”

Slowly, cautiously, David sits. “What are you doing in Gath?”

Alec laughs hollowly. “You saw the tattoo, am I correct?” In the pause, he sighs. “I used to be a soldier. In the first war, when we took Port Prosperity. I was a patriot.” His eyes pierce David’s, and David wonders how he ever could have thought that this man was just a normal, unseeing person. “But after the war, instead of being treated like a returning hero, Silas made it so that people…like me couldn’t make a life.” Again, he gazes levelly at David. “I hear your prince has a similar problem.”

David nods, remorse and anger welling in his chest.

Alec sighs and leans back in his chair. “And that was that. I packed up and moved here, as far away as I could from my once beloved country.” They stare at each other for a long moment. “Now you, David Shepherd, what are you doing all the way out here?”

In David’s mind, the next second takes a year to pass. He sees Jack at his trial, sees the chair where Michelle should have been sitting, sees Silas yelling at a courtroom full of people, sees a firing squad ready to shoot, sees Michelle’s pale skin by candlelight, sees Reverend Samuels in a half-lit church.

“Running,” he said simply.

“And will you return?” Alec asks.

“Yes,” replied David, and he is sure.

Alec smiles. “Well, then you can stay here till you do. Help me keep the bar clean and you can take the room upstairs.”

A smile makes the unfamiliar muscles in David’s cheeks ache. “Deal.”

--

In the months that David lives in the room above Alec’s bar, he actually verges on being happy. The manual labor of keeping the bar clean keeps his mind from straying to far or from thinking about how long he has been gone.

It’s a Tuesday morning when David picks up the paper on the front steps and there, right on the front page of the paper, is a picture of Jack. David starts reading as he walks back inside, but stops short when he realizes the point of the story.

Jack committed suicide.

His stomach roils, pity rising in his throat like bile. When he knew Jack, he didn’t understand him, didn’t know the intention behind any of his actions. It had been unsettling, but Jack was his prince. That was why he had followed Jack. Why he had shot the man by the roadside. And Jack, in return, had saved his life. And now he is dead.

“Know him?” says Alec asks, wiping down the bar to prepare for the day ahead of them.

David pauses, sadness making his throat tight. “I thought so.” He puts the newspaper down. “I guess I didn’t.”

--

In the tiny bed in the tiny room above the bar that Alec is loaning him, David dreams of Michelle. His dreams are strange, though. Filled with butterflies and Michelle pregnant and by the sea. When he wakes, he believes his subconscious must be finding the thoughts he had been keeping to himself deep in his mind. There is really nothing he’d rather have than Michelle, children, a kingdom that didn’t live in fear.

He throws himself into work and tries not to think about it.

The next night, however, David dreams the same dream.

--

“So, David,” starts Alec one night. They are cleaning up at two in the morning, after a night that included no fewer than three bar fights. David is sweeping up broken glass, and realizes that he might even be starting to be happy here. Just a little.

“Yeah?” he replies.

“What are you waiting for?”

David looks up quizzically. “What do you mean? Once I finish with the glass I’m going to – “

“No, no, I mean…” Alec leaned on his elbows on the bar. “You’ve been here for nearly eight months. Eight and a half. I’m not pushing you out or anything…I’m just wondering. What are you waiting for?”

Still holding the broom, David looks up at Alec. “Has it really been that long?”

Alec raised his eyebrows. “Yeah.”

David shrugs. In the first few months on the run, he had felt such an urgency to find an answer, to rush back to the kingdom and…he didn’t know what happened after that. But as the months progressed, the urgency had faded. “I don’t know.”

“What about that girl?” Alec turned and grabbed a bottle of something amber-colored. He poured two shot glasses and motioned David over. “What about her?”

David’s heart throbbed dully. “She’s probably moved on by now.”

“I doubt she’s meeting other men in exile,” Alec says sarcastically, downing his drink. David, in the middle of doing the same, nearly spits it out again. Alec laughs. “What, you think I didn’t know who she was? The whole world knows about you and Michelle Benjamin, David.”

“Shepherd, actually.” At Alec’s confused look, he explains. “We got married secretly right before I left.” He fingers his crystal glass.

Alec is silent for a moment. “Well. Then you have to go back to her.”

David laughs bitterly. “I’m a wanted man, Alec. If I go back, I’ll bring the police down on her faster than she can say hello. She’s probably not even back from her exile yet.”

With a quirk of his eyebrow, Alec grabs something from the other side of the bar and slaps it on the table. It’s a newspaper, and Michelle’s on the front page. She’s standing on the steps of the palace in the city, raising her hand at the crowd gathered in front of her. David stares at the picture hungrily, realizing that the little details of how she looks had been slipping from his memory.

He fingers a corner of the paper. “She looks different.”

“Well, exile will do that to you, I guess.”

“No…it’s something else.” David’s heart is thundering in his chest, and suddenly the urgency returns. “I need to get back.”

“So?” says Alec. “What are you waiting for?”

“A sign,” replies David.

--

It’s a calm grey night and David has no trouble falling asleep. He slips gently into the familiar dream of Michelle by the sea under a grey sky, surrounded by red butterflies. This time, however, something is different. Reverend Samuels is standing next to her.

Michelle is facing away from him, towards the sea, and holding something in her arms. The Reverend walks toward him.

“It is time, David.”

David drags his eyes away from Michelle. “For what?”

“To go back.”

A sense of rightness washes over him. This was what he was meant to do. Still, uncertainty makes his throat tighten. “But…what am I supposed to do once I get there?”

The Reverend smiles and somehow David’s fears are momentarily quelled. “It will come, David. A plan will come. You know who to trust.”

David’s eyes slip to Michelle, and he wonders why she won’t turn around. “Are you sure?”

“You need fear no evil. You, David, are never alone.”

David wakes with the Reverend’s deep voice in his ears and a pounding in his chest. Panting, he swings his legs over the side of the bed and leans his head in his hands. Something about the dream is vaguely unsettling, but he can’t quite figure out what. He is simply overcome with an urgency, a feeling, a sense of knowing.

It is time to go back.

Fic: Chuck vs. The Knives

Thu, 10 Sep 2009 16:06:16 GMT

Title: Chuck vs. The Knives
Words: 869
Summary: Remember how Sarah sleeps with a knife under her pillow?
Spoliers: Through 2x22 (but basically no spoilers).
Disclaimer: If Chuck were mine, season 3 would be airing RIGHT NOW.
Rating: PGish.
Character/Pairings: Chuck/Sarah
Warnings: None. Silly fluff all the way.
Author’s Notes: Spawned from pure silliness and a conversation between me and michaelamd23 about Sarah's slightly odd sleeping habits. ;) Totally silly - I needed a break from school and from the serious fics I've found myself writing lately.
Also, Psych reference wooooo!

Chuck vs. The Knives

“Look, if we want this to work, we’re really going to have to sell it,” said Sarah firmly, ignoring the anticipation brewing in her stomach. “The Kensingtons think we’re Shawn and Juliet Spencer, and they have to keep thinking that if we want to figure out what’s going on here.”

“Okay, fine,” said Chuck, raising his hands in surrender. “I get it. Married couple. I mean, that’s worked before for us before, right?” He gave a nervous laugh and their eyes locked, forced smiles fading from their faces as they remembered the many times they had shared a bed, for cover or…otherwise. Chuck swallowed.

“I’m…gonna go wash my face,” said Sarah stiltedly, pointing towards the bathroom.

When she left, Chuck collapsed on the bed. “Get a hold of yourself Bartowski.”

Some time later, when they both were crawling awkwardly into the one bed, something caught Chuck’s eye that wasn’t Sarah’s ever-favorite bed clothes combo of boy-cut underwear and a t-shirt.

“Sarah, what did you just put under your pillow?” he asked suspiciously. She glanced up at him and then away, settling herself under the covers.

“Don’t worry about it, Chuck.”

For a moment he just frowned at her, but then he lunged across the really-not-that-big bed and under her pillow. “Chuck!” she yelled. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He yanked whatever it was from under her pillow and ended up gaping at her.

“Knives, Sarah? Really? Under your pillow?” His voice rose with each new comment.

Sarah glared at him and snatched back her precious silver knife. “The Kensingtons might be part of the Ring, Chuck. I’m just taking precautions. I’m trying to protect you.” She fingered the handle with a gentleness that kind of unnerved Chuck. “Plus, I always sleep with a knife nearby.”

Chuck just stared at her. “Now that is just creepy.”

Her eyes flashed. “Just because I’m trying to protect – “

He glowered. “No knives under the pillow. Not ever. Keep it on the bedside table,” he said, pointed to the small table on her side.

“One,” Sarah began peevishly, “I don’t take orders from you. Two, under the pillow is a good defensive position. If someone enters the room while we’re asleep, they won’t see the knife and will therefore think we’re unarmed, giving us the advantage.”

“Won’t we be asleep?” Chuck deadpanned. Sarah just kept on glaring.

“The knives stay.”

Chuck almost fought back, but something about the firmness of her voice told him she wasn’t willing to compromise again. “Fine. But if I somehow cut myself on that thing, you are explaining it to Beckman.”

Brow furrowed, Sarah settled down on top of her knife-hiding pillow. “Why would you be over on my side of the bed?”

Dead silence.

“Goodnight, Sarah,” Chuck said quickly, embarrassment making his hand fumble as he reached for the light switch.

“Goodnight, Chuck,” she said quietly in the darkness.

--

Chuck thought life was pretty much perfect. Here he was, chillin’ on his couch with a beautiful girl curled up against his shoulder while they watched The Emperor Strikes Back. And the best part? It was all real. Here they were, a full 10 months after the Intersect Project had officially - officially - come to a close, and Sarah was still here. Chuck had gotten a job at a software company and Sarah was working for the Burbank Police Department and studying for her detective’s exam next week (though it was obvious she was going to ace it).

As the Millenium Falcon broke down yet again, Chuck played with the ends of Sarah’s hair that was curling around her shoulder. Her head was slumped over on his shoulder, her breathing deep and even.

Too even.

Peeking down at her, he saw that her bangs had completely fallen over her face, her eyes were closed and her mouth was open a little bit as she slept rather deeply. For one moment Chuck was completely offended (who fell asleep during Star Wars?!), but then that was overtaken by the warmth spreading out from his chest. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of seeing Sarah let down her guard like this.

“Sarah?” he said quietly, trying to figure out how deeply asleep she was. When she didn’t stir, even with all of her years of intensive training to wake at the drop of a hat, he figured she was out cold. Maybe police work wasn’t as easy as she always brushed it off as being.

Laughing a little to himself, he eased himself away from her, keeping her relatively still, and somehow managed to get her into his arms without dumping her onto the floor. He carried her into the bedroom they shared and only almost dropped her onto the bed when he tripped over a pair of her shoes. Sarah, however, just stirred a little but didn’t wake up. Chuck laughed. “Good grief. How tired are you?” he said quietly.

Getting her curled up by the pillows and feeling a little bit overcome by affection, he lifted her pillow a little to plump it up for her. What he saw under there made him freeze.

“SARAH, what did I say about knives under your pillow?!”

Fic: Chuck vs. Congress (2/?)

Fri, 04 Sep 2009 05:19:26 GMT

Title: Chuck vs. Congress (2/?)
Words: 2,422
Summary: Set post 'Chuck vs. The Ring', a potential season 3.
Spoliers: Through 2x22.
Disclaimer: If Chuck were mine, season 3 would be airing RIGHT NOW.
Rating: Light R, to be safe.
Character/Pairings: Chuck/Sarah, Casey, The Awesomes, Beckman, a couple of OCs.
Warnings: Mild sexuality, violence.
Author’s Notes: So, I'm done with my internship in DC right now, but I wrote a few chapters while I was there kind of spawning from my experience there. Here we go.
This fis is dedicated to the wonderful michaelamd23, who rocks and loves Chuck the way it should be loved. :D The first chapter was a late happy birthday, so let's say the rest of this is a SUPER belated graduation gift?

Chuck vs. Congress
Chapter Two

Is there blood in your system?
Are there stones in your heart?
Alien creation
Go and find your star
And everything I do
And every time I talk to you
Nothing’s getting through
Is it over?
Know By Now – People in Planes
--

“Do we have any ice and pain killers?” asked Chuck as he wandered out into their suite. “Or maybe a whole new body? You government types can swing that, right?”

“Water and Ibuprofin on the counter,” said Sarah without looking up from where she was sitting at their small table, reading the newspaper.

“Thanks. I guess hoping for something stronger would be useless?” She didn’t answer. “Look, I am pretty much completely wiped out from the tests yesterday and you’ve barely said a word to me in two weeks. What is so wrong between us that you can’t at least show some freaking sympathy for me?” He didn’t know where he’d gotten the guts to say something like that to Sarah Walker, but he was just gonna go with it.

Apparently that wasn’t the best plan. She looked up at him, set down the newspaper, stood, and walked into the room he assumed was hers. Throwing up his hands in defeat, Chuck sat down at the table and leaned over. The cool fake wooden surface felt wondrous on his aching forehead.

Casey walked in, in a suit, and sat down across from Chuck. For a while they didn’t say anything, and Chuck didn’t lift his head from the cold table.

“Good job on the tests yesterday.”

That did make Chuck lift his head. Casey? Telling him he did something good? “Um, thanks? Not like I could really help it. I’m just a computer, after all.” He’d meant for it to come out as a joke, but it fell completely flat. “Thanks, Casey,” he said, this time going for just plain old honesty. Casey just grunted, and they lapsed into silence again.

“So why’s Sarah so pissed?”

Casey let loose an aggravated sigh. “Why can’t you two just figure your own shit out for once?”

“Um, sorry?” said Chuck. They lapsed into awkward silence and Chuck put his head back on the table and closed his eyes, feeling them throb.

“She’s upset about Bryce.” Chuck opened his eyes but didn’t move his head. It was probably easier if they didn’t look at each other. Casey sounded uncomfortable enough as it was. “And she’s mad at you.”

“Why?” Chuck asked, honestly at a loss.

“She wasn’t going to go on the Intersect mission. She was going to stay.” Chuck felt his heart give a great big throb before it returned to its normal pace. “Now she has to stay because you’re her job again.” Casey paused and then chortled in amusement. “Plus, she’s probably just frustrated you two can’t screw now.”

“Thanks for that,” Chuck said dryly.

“You’re welcome. Now get your ass up. You don’t keep the heads of the CIA and NSA waiting. Sarah!” She emerged from her room in a sleek, simple black suit, her hair pulled back from her face. Chuck swallowed and desperately hoped she hadn’t heard his conversation with Casey. If she had, she gave no sign of it.

“Let’s go,” she said, hitching a black purse on her shoulder and then giving Chuck a once over. “Do you have a suit jacket?” Chuck instantly felt his hackles go up at her tone.

“No. The way I figure it, the CIA and NSA owe me so much that they can just deal with the fact that I’m only in a button-down shirt and not a jacket,” he said angrily. He saw Sarah tense, but she only stared him down for a moment before walking past him and out the door.

“Nice,” said Casey as he walked past him as well.

Chuck swore in his head and then followed his handlers.

--

He found himself watching Sarah as she tried to sit still outside of the office. They had been waiting for ten minutes and as each minute slowly passed, it obviously became harder and harder for her to sit still. To most people, it probably looked like she was just bored and a little uncomfortable, but Chuck could see the way she crossed and uncrossed her ankles, the way her hands fluttered to her thigh every so often to check where he knew she kept a holster full of knives, the way her eyes darted around the waiting area to check all of the exits. She was nervous.

Why would she be nervous? This was her new boss after all, not an Afghani warlord or a Colombian drug dealer.

“Mr. Saunders will see you now,” said the secretary, breaking Chuck’s train of thought. Nervously, he stood with Sarah and Casey and straightened his tie. He should have listened to Sarah and brought a jacket. Now he just felt stupid.

The office was big, with a window looking out over the National Mall. Chuck peeked out of it and saw the Washington Monument in the distance.

The man behind the large, mahogany desk instantly made Chuck uneasy. Benjamin Saunders was a tall man, broad-shouldered, blond and incredibly good-looking. There was a little grey at his temples but he sort of looked like a young Harrison Ford. He was wearing a black suit, but he wore it like he was too big for it, like it didn’t sit well on his shoulders. He was probably more comfortable in combat gear.

“Agents Walker and Casey,” Saunders said with an easy smile as he walked around the desk to shake their hands. “Good to finally meet you. Both of your performances regarding the Intersect Project have been outstanding, and the CIA thanks you for your commitment and valor.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Sarah, and Casey echoed the sentiment. Chuck just watched Saunders, trying to figure out why he felt so on-edge.

“And Mr. Bartowski,” continued Saunders, holding his hand out to Chuck. Chuck, of course, took it but the little hairs at the back of his neck were standing up. “I’ve heard so much about you and read your report so thoroughly that I feel like I already know you. So glad to have you with us here.”

“Not really like I had a choice to come to DC,” muttered Chuck before promptly getting an elbow in the ribs from Casey. “I mean, thanks, Director Saunders.”

“Please, call me Ben. After all you’ve given up for this country, the least I can do is be on a first name basis with you.” Saunders went back behind his desk and sat, leaning back easily in the chair. The three of them sat in the chairs facing the desk. “Now, to business.”

They all unconsciously leaned forward slightly at those words. For all their pretending, Team Bartowski had no clue what to do now that the situation had changed so drastically. Would Sarah and Casey still be his handlers? Did he even need handlers anymore? Were they going to throw him in an underground bunker and throw away the key?

“It seems the Intersect Project has changed drastically.” Chuck snorted lightly, but Saunders just looked at him levelly. “As I’m sure you’re aware, this Intersect had various changes that make it much harder to control. It was intended, of course, for Bryce Larkin, because he was an extremely skilled field agent.”

“I’ve been doing pretty well for myself,” Chuck said sharply, annoyed.

“You have,” conceded Saunders gently, “but you are not Bryce Larkin. You do not have the training he had, the skills he had acquired over years of service and missions.” He raised his eyebrows rather patronizingly. “Is that correct?”

Chuck felt anger rising in his throat. “Yeah,” he said tightly. “That’s correct.” He leaned back in his chair with a thump.

“I don’t mean to be harsh,” Saunders said in a placating manner, “I’m just telling the truth. The Intersect was not intended for you.” He glanced from Sarah to Casey to Chuck. “However, you do have a mind that seems perfectly suited for housing it. Dr. Hastings tells me that your capacity for remembering encrypted data is phenomenal.”

“Didn’t we already know this with the first Intersect?”

“Chuck,” said Sarah sharply, leaning forward to glare at him.

“It’s alright, Agent Walker. What you’re saying is correct. The thing is, this new Intersect is much larger and much more complex than its predecessor.” Saunders leaned forward and laced his hands together. “In hindsight, it is completely possible that Bryce Larkin may not have even been able to hold the Intersect in his head.” Chuck blinked and Saunders smiled a little. “You, however, have taken it almost completely in stride.”

“So what now?” Casey interjected. “Now that he’s a freaking – I mean, now that he has these capabilities, how is the situation going to be handled? Will he continue to require handlers?”

Saunders studied Casey thoughtfully for a moment. “It is, in our opinion, still necessary that Mr. Bartowski have you two as handlers. His abilities are not, at the moment, permanent and because he is the Intersect he will still need constant protection. The only difference is that now he can help out from time to time.” When he finished, he smiled blithely at Chuck, who didn’t smile back. What was it about this guy that was making him so freaking nervous?

“So we’re staying in California,” said Sarah. Chuck almost looked sideways at her, to see if her face matched her blank tone. His chest ached. Had she wanted to get away from him that badly?

“Yes, for now.” Saunders stood and they did the same. “Thank you so much for coming. We’ll be in touch.”

As Chuck shook his hand, he said, “So we can go home now?”

“Hm. Well, I’d rather you stick around in DC for the moment.” Saunders smiled. “Think of it as a vacation. Go sightseeing, take a tour of the Capitol. Relax.”

“Okay,” Chuck said slowly.

“It was nice finally meeting you, Mr. Bartowski,” Saunders said as they left the office. Chuck looked over his shoulder at the man but he was just smiling.

“Something about that guy gives me the creeps,” said Chuck in the elevator.

“Chuck, that’s the head of the CIA. Be respectful,” said Sarah.

“But I didn’t flash on him!” As he said the words, their rightness hit home. When had he ever not flashed on someone working for the government? They all had documentation, paper trails.

“He’s the highest ranking member of the Central Intelligence Agency. You think he’s in the Intersect?” Sarah said, somewhat disdainfully.

“Yes,” Chuck replied strongly. “He’s part of the organization who designed the damn thing – he should be in there. Even if the information is classified or limited, he should be in there.”

“Chuck, stop freaking out. You’re overreacting. Ben Saunders is the new head of the CIA and therefore in charge, so get used to him being around.” Sarah crossed her arms.

With a ding, the doors of the elevator opened. Casey shot through first, muttering something about bickering old couples. “Ah, Ben, I see,” said Chuck sarcastically. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be transferred to DC permanently so you can work directly for Ben here?”

“You’re being immature.” With that, Sarah strode past him and out the front door. With an angry sigh, Chuck followed.

--

Hours later, back in their hotel suite, Chuck was lying on his bed reading a comic book when there was a soft tap on his door.

“Come in,” he said moodily, not bothering to sit up.

To his surprise, Sarah walked in. She stood at the foot of his bed, arms crossed. Chuck put down the comic book and, with an ache growing in his chest, thought that even when she was glaring at him like she wanted to hit him over the head with something blunt, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. For all the attitude he was showing her, Chuck was very perfectly aware that there was no one else for him. That, of course, was the problem.

“Tomorrow you are going to be testifying before a special Congressional committee made up of the most senior members of both the House and the Senate Intelligence committees,” she said bluntly.

“What?” Chuck shot up in bed, alarmed. “Are you kidding me? No, no way.”

“Chuck – “

“Talk to the heads of the CIA and NSA, sure, whatever. But Congress? No way in freaking hell.”

“Chuck, you have to. Saunders and Beckman have decided it’s time to let the government know about the existence of the Intersect and where they plan to go from here, and of course they want to hear it from you.” Her face looked slightly pinched and her words were forced, but Chuck was so angry he barely noticed. Standing, he faced off with her.

“Sarah, come on. You know they just want to see the Human Intersect and poke it with a stick.”

“It’s your duty, Chuck.” Sarah’s arms were tight around her, but she looked up at him sternly. “When you put the Intersect back in your head, you chose to serve this country.”

“Then let me serve it another way! I’ll gladly go on as many missions as you want, but I can’t speak in front of a Congressional committee. Sarah, I could barely speak in front of a crowd in the Buy More.”

“Well, then maybe you should have thought about that before you put the damn thing back in your head!” Sarah finally exploded, uncrossing her arms violently. Chuck stared at her for a moment in amazement.

“Is that what this is about? That’s what your angry about? What about duty, about serving my – “

Sarah interrupted him, her eyes fierce but slightly red around the edges. “You didn’t have to give up any more. You were done, Chuck. You could have walked away with your compensation and just…lived a normal life. The normal life you wanted all along. But you uploaded the Intersect again and gave all that up. And this time you can’t blame Bryce Larkin,” The pitch of her voice dipped as a lump rose in her throat.

Chuck nodded slowly. “So it’s about Bryce, then.”

For a long moment Sarah just stared at him, hurt and anger clear in her eyes. Without answering him, she turned and left, slamming the door as she went.

Chuck collapsed on his bed, exhausted and confused.

Fic: Birds and Ships (1/?)

Sun, 09 Aug 2009 02:58:13 GMT

Title: Bird and Ships (1/3)
Words: 4,005
Summary: The continuation of the Book of David.
Spoliers: Through season one.
Disclaimer: Not mine! If it were, there WOULD be a second season.
Rating: PG-13 for now.
Character/Pairings: Michelle-centric in this chapter, David later, with appearances from Rose and an OC.
Warnings: Aaaaaaaaaangst.
Author’s Notes: I couldn't let the series end the way it did!!! I know I'm working on another big ass Kings fic right now, but I think this will just have 3 chapters, so hopefully it'll be doable. I couldn't help myself.
Also, the changes of tense between sections is intentional. :)

Birds and Ships

Birds sweetly singing in my eyes this day
Sweet flowers blossom when I smile
But my soul is stormy and my heart blows wild
My sweetheart rides a ship on the sea

Though my soul is stormy and my heart blows wild
Where might my lonesome lover be?
Birds and Ships – Billy Bragg & Wilco ft. Natalie Merchant (lyrics by Woodie Guthrie)

--

The sun is setting over the water, but Michelle isn’t looking at it. After four months of staring into the dying light as it sank below the horizon, she has forgotten that sunsets can be beautiful. They just mark another day.

The cottage they are holding her in is surprisingly nice. It’s small, but she doesn’t need much. A small kitchen, with food delivered every week by someone during the night, left on her doorstep in a basket. Tucked in among the vegetables and loaves of bread are bottles of vitamins, the kind an expecting mother has to take. Her small room is painted in shades of blue, blue that seems pale white in direct sunlight and deep, ocean dark at night.

Sometimes she stares up at it while she is trying to fall asleep, her fingers running over her expanding stomach, and wonders if David has ever seen the sea.

--

The first time the nurse came, Michelle is surprised out of her skin. She had gotten so used to silence that when there was a sharp rap on the door she almost screamed. But when she opened to door, the firing squad she had imagined was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was a woman. She looked about forty years old, with graying streaks in her honey-colored hair.

It was a surprise to see another human being. The king – she refused to call him her father anymore – was very serious about his ruling of no human contact. There were guards, yes, but they remained constantly out of sight. She could walk outside her little house, but she knew that if she wandered too far, she would run in to a soldiered perimeter and go no further. She didn’t try.

“Michelle Benjamin?” the woman said.

Michelle laughed, a little out of amusement and a lot out of shock. “Who else?”

The woman nodded in a calm, no-nonsense matter. “I am Hanna Weis. I’m your doctor.”

Michelle blinked. “I have…a doctor? But the king – “

“Doesn’t know about this,” Hanna interrupted. “It was arranged by your mother.”

“My mother,” Michelle said blankly. Her mother. The woman who said she would protect her, who allowed the king to throw her into this pretty prison.

“Sit,” Hanna said. Michelle did, slowly, at her tiny table. Hanna sat near her and began taking things out of her bag. Michelle had no idea what they are – for all the work she did on health care reform, she never knew anything about medical practices. Especially not ones that concerned pregnancy. She never thought she would be pregnant, anyway. The radiation therapy had taken care of that.

And then along came David. Blessed by God, destined to be king, destined to be her husband.

“Your voice sounds good, like you’ve been using it during your exile,” said Hanna, jerking Michelle out of her reverie.

“I’ve…been singing. To the baby.” At that, Hanna’s lips curl up in the tiniest of smiles.

“That’s good. The baby can hear you, you know. Sing to it, talk to it…next time I come, I will bring an ultrasound machine. Then you can know the baby’s gender, if you like.”

Michelle shook her head with a smile. “I think I already know.” Hanna raised her eyebrows but didn’t say anything. If she knew anything about this family…well, she could only assume that the exiled princess had been talking to God as well.

After the check-up, Hanna lay a gentle hand on Michelle’s shoulder. “I’ll be back in a month.” There was something comforting in her voice that told Michelle she was someone to be trusted. Someone she could trust to take care of her and the baby. So she smiled up at the woman and watched her go through the door and walk down the path into the woods.

When she couldn’t see Hanna anymore, she feels tears prick the back of her eyes.

“Alone again.”

--

She’s never alone, though. That’s one thing Silas did not foresee when he sent her here. No, she has the baby to talk to. She has God to confide in. And she has David, locked somewhere deep in her chest. She is not alone.

There is a thin white band around the finger where her ring used to lie. Now that it’s gone, worn by her husband, the mark where she wore it refuses to go away. With a smile, she thinks there’s a reason for that.

None of this is to say, however, that she does not feel loneliness, that the empty darkness in her house at night does not frighten her. Sometimes she thinks she hears voices in the house at night, a woman whispering in the dark. She wakes with a yell but there is no one there, only a tree branch rattling in the sea breeze or the crash of the waves on the rocky shore.

Sometimes she worries that she only sings of sadness to her child. Her favorite song to sing is of flowers and birds, but also of a love lost at sea. She does not mean to tell her child that there is only sadness in the world, so she tries to sing of happier things. Song of sunlight, birds taking flight, horses, a place called home. She even tries singing a hymn of Gilboa once, but the words stick in her throat and she cannot sing anymore.

When her child is kicking fiercely, only the song of birds and ships will make the child stop and listen. So she lies there, stroking the belly that grows every day, and sings of sorrow.

--

The second time Hanna came, exactly one month later, Michelle actually smiled when she found the doctor outside of her door. It was a cold winter day, crisp and bright with no snow.

“Hanna!” Michelle says brightly, stepping side to let her in the door. The doctor doesn’t smile, just tugs the collar of her coat more tightly to her throat and steps inside. “Good to see you.”

“I’d imagine it would be,” Hanna said blandly. Michelle paused as she shut the door.

“I don’t mean that it’s good to see you, as in it is good to see any other form of life.” She sat at the table across from Hanna, a sort of calm serenity surrounding her. “I mean it’s good to see you.”

Hanna stopped taking out her equipment and stared at Michelle, who just looked back at her. “I can’t help you get out of here, if that’s what you want me to do.”

“Did I ask you?”

Hanna looked down. “No.”

“Then let’s get on with it.”

Twenty minutes later, as Hanna was packing up her bag again and Michelle had gone to make herself a cup of tea, the doctor abruptly stopped and placed both her hands on the table. “You have no idea, do you?”

Michelle furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

Hanna turned to Michelle, her face serious. “Your brother committed suicide. Four days ago.”

It was strange, but Michelle wasn’t surprised. The baby gave a hard kick, and she put her hand over the spot. “Oh.” In her mind’s eye, she saw herself and Jack when they were children, running across the grassy lawn of Alter Mansion. That was before she got sick, before Jack had found the darkness in him, before any of this…

“I just thought you should know.” Hanna began walking toward the door, but paused before she reached it. “And I’m sorry about before, when I was harsh with you.” She turned and gripped her bag. “I’m your doctor. You should be able to trust me when you can trust no others.” She swallowed. “So, just so you are sure, you can trust me with your life. With the life of your child. I might be here by the request of your mother but I…you can trust me.”

Michelle lay both hands on her swelling stomach and smiled. “Thank you,” she said softly. Hanna nodded, hugged her coat around her, and stepped out into the freezing winter air.

As the door closed, a gust of cold breeze buffeted Michelle in the face. She closed her eyes and breathed it in.

--

One night, as she is preparing a small dinner of split pea soup with ham, something in the dusk outside catches her eye. She looks up, eyes searching the lavender darkness, but sees nothing. She goes back to stirring the soup, but then sees it again. There, it’s snow.

Michelle smiles, really smiles, and walks to the window. She had always assumed that there would be no snow here, that it was too close to the ocean, but there are flakes falling outside, disappearing as they hit the frozen ground.

Before she really knows what she’s doing, Michelle is out the door and into the pale dusk, tilting her head back and laughing as the snowflakes melt on her cheeks. The baby kicks, and she puts her hand on the spot, lifting her shirt to place her warm palm on the skin of her swelling stomach.

“See, darling? It’s snowing. Isn’t it beautiful?”

She isn’t sure if she is talking to the baby or to David, but it feels good to share the moment with someone. The loneliness is starting to house itself as a dull ache in her chest, and sometimes she wonders if it will still be there when her exile ends. With Jack gone, with David still somewhere in the wild, who will she talk to? Who will she share her life with?

The baby gives two hard kicks, and she smiles. There is her answer.

The pea soup gets burned, but she doesn’t mind.

--

Hanna returns in a month and one day, with an armed guard hauling in the ultrasound machine. Michelle watches him curiously, but he doesn’t meet her eyes. She wonders what he thinks, seeing her tiny, pregnant, and in exile. She assumes that her mother has bought him out so that he won’t tell anyone that she is pregnant, but she wonders what he thinks.

“Alright. Are you ready, Michelle?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” Michelle lies back in her bed, hiking up her shirt over her rounded torso and only jumping a little as the cold gel is spread on her skin. It takes a few minutes, but then she sees a shape on the black and white screen that can only be the baby.

“There,” says Hanna, her tone satisfied. “There’s your baby.”

Michelle thought she was ready. She thought she was strong enough to do this only, to carry all the weight herself. But as she stares at the little moving shape of her child, she finds that tears are leaking out of the corners of her eyes. She bites her lip, tries to stop, but can’t close them because she is too busy staring at the screen.

“There…wait. Is…that’s another child.”

Michelle sucks in a breath. “What?”

“You are carrying twins.” There is awe in Hanna’s voice.

“Twins,” Michelle echoes in shock. In the logical part of her brain, she realizes that it had to have been a probability. She was a twin herself, after all, and didn’t the trait pass through the female line? But to go from having been unable to have any children to carrying two…

Hanna turns to her and sees her shaking with the effort it takes to hold back the sobs. Then the dam breaks and she can’t hold it in anymore. Michelle lets out a strangled noise and presses her hands to her mouth, pain lancing through her limbs and settling as a fiery ache in her chest. Her cheeks are wet with tears, and she can barely see Hanna through the ones still in her eyes.

“Oh, child,” says Hanna softly, sitting next to Michelle on the bed and wrapping one arm around her. Michelle crumples, collapses into the only other human she has seen in months and months, and lets herself cry. Hanna makes soothing noises and tells her everything will be okay, and Michelle wants to believe her so badly.

That night, after Hanna leaves, Michelle lies in bed staring up at the ceiling, running her hands over the swell in her torso that now houses two lives.

“David,” she says softly to the empty house. She opens her mouth to say more, feels like she should be telling him that she is having two of his children, wanting so badly to tell him, but the words don’t come.

She curls on her side and hugs her stomach as the tears stream down her face.

--

Some morning much later, when her form is weighed down by the growth of two children instead of one, Michelle is standing out in her small yard, which is more of a meadow anyway. The ocean is crashing in front of her on the grey morning, a seagull spinning above her head and shrieking about something. She has wrapped herself in a huge coat but slips her hands inside the zipper to rub her swelling belly.

“See that there?” she says softly, the words almost eaten up by the waves and the sea breeze. “That, over there across the water? That’s where your dad is. Somewhere.” A lump rises in her throat. “And he’s coming back someday.”

Something wet touches her cheek. She lifts her hand to feel it, but it has already melted. Tilting her head back, dark curls tumbling down her back, she stares up at the grey sky and watched as snow falls from the clouds.

A smile makes her lips curl at the corners, the muscles slightly stiff from lack of use. The snow melts as soon as it touches the grass, which is just beginning to turn green again, but it still makes her smile.

Staring up at the clouds, Michelle laughs.

--

That is not to say that everything goes well, or that Michelle is fine with the constant silence and loneliness. When she is sick in the morning, there is no one there to keep her hair back or to stroke her neck and tell her that it will soon pass.

When she wakes up in the middle of the night, pain lancing through her stomach, there is no one to ask if what is happening is hurtful to the children. She must wait until Hanna appears, month after month. As she nears her due date, though, the doctor begins coming more often, which is nice.

The loneliness is hard, but Michelle is adapting.

She misses David with an intensity that scares her, however. She hadn’t known him that long before she lost him, and yet he seems as essential to her life as the two tiny beings she carries within her now. She misses his solid warmth, his smile, his goodness in the face of everything terrible that happened in his life. She misses the way she feels when she is with him. Her heart feels terribly hollow, sometimes.

Still, she dreams of her smiling, golden-haired children and believes that everything will come to pass as it should.

--

It’s a Friday afternoon when someone knocks on her door. It is not the soft tap that precedes Hanna’s visits, but a sharper rap that almost makes Michelle jump out of her skin. Slowly, achingly, she hauls herself out of the chair in the tiny sitting area, putting down her book, and walks to the door.

On the other side of the glass in a pale yellow jacket, is her mother. Michelle’s heart jumps erratically in her chest and she can’t tell if she’s ecstatic or horrified. The queen just raises her eyebrows and waits to be let in.

“Hello, mother,” Michelle says slowly as she opens the door. Queen Rose sweeps in, Hanna following much more slowly. “And how have you been these past months?”

“Fixing the havoc that you and your brother wreaked,” her mother replies. Michelle doesn’t bother protesting what she assumes her mother has fortified in her mind. Of course she and her brother are to blame. How could the king himself have done anything wrong?

“What brings you here?” Michelle sits back down in her chair, and then notices that Hanna is carrying a huge bag and pushing an entire cart full of supplies. The queen herself is carrying a bag.

Her mother’s eyebrows shoot up. “Have you forgotten that you’re about to give birth?” Her eyes dart down to Michelle’s now-huge stomach. “Because you are carrying twins, Dr. Weis believed it best if we induced labor slightly early, to reduce the risk. And I had always planned to be here for this.”

Michelle is confused at the emotions roiling in her chest. Part of her is desperately glad that her mother is here, that she has finally come. Another part of her realizes that her mother put her here in the first place. “Why didn’t you come earlier?”

Her mother gives her a slightly patronizing smile. “I can’t just jet off all the time without your father wondering where I am.”

“Why not? He leaves constantly and you never know where he goes.” Michelle couldn’t resist the blow that she knew would wound her mother the most. The queen took it well, her smile just sliding into a more forced position.

“I was saving you time. I was protecting you.”

As Hanna sets up whatever equipment she has brought, Michelle swallows angrily and turns her head to look out the window. The sea is calm today, the sky grey. “And what about Reverend Samuels? Is he coming as well? I want my children baptized.”

Something shifts in Rose’s eyes, and she frowns. “The reverend has been dead since the day your father took the kingdom back from Jack. They’re calling it the Day of Revelation, now.”

The bottom of Michelle’s stomach drops. The Reverend is dead? But she and David…they saw him. They spoke to him. He married them. Had he died after they had spoken? Or…

To cover the unsettled feeling rising in her stomach, Michelle swallows and looks back at her mother levelly. “I thought the Day of Revelation was supposed to be the end of the world.”

Her mother just smiles.

--

After a few injections of something, Michelle begins experiencing what has to be the worst pain she has ever felt. Even her medical treatments as a child weren’t this outright painful – they were horrible and draining and she had literally been at Death’s door, but they hadn’t been this…sharp.

Her mother is surprisingly supportive. Sympathetic and strong all at the same time, Rose grips her daughter’s hand and firmly tells her to keep pushing. Hanna is a calm, soothing and sure presence at her feet, every once in a while giving Michelle a gentle squeeze of encouragement on her calf.

But Michelle cries. She cries and screams and thinks she will break in half from the pushing. Surely she is too small to be holding these two children inside of her, let alone to push them from her body. She’s tiny, she knows, and she’s sure she’ll break.

She wants David to be here so badly. She even thinks she sees him, sometimes, in her mother’s place, holding her hand and beaming in worried adoration. But then she squeezes her eyes shut to push and he is gone.

She even thinks, in a few moments of intense pain, that she wants her father. She wants his sure presence by her, his solid – or so she thought – faith.

But she grits her teeth, yells, and pushes. She has been alone for almost eight months. She can do this by herself as well.

Still, tears stream down her cheeks as she screams. This is too much. Will it ever end? If it ends, will she end with it? She wishes for David’s surety, his strength. Without knowing, she is calling out to him, to God, to anyone who will listen. Her mother tries responding, but she is too far gone.

Then, the pain ceases and she sees Reverend Samuels standing in the doorway.

“Reverend,” she breathes between pants. Sweat has plastered her bangs to her forehead. Just seeing him there, calm washes over her. She tilts her head back for a moment with a sob.

“Reverend Samuels isn’t here,” she hears her mother say, as if from somewhere very far away.

“He’s here,” breathes Michelle. “He’s here.” Her smile stretches into another sob.

“He’s not here, Michelle.” The Reverend’s deep voice resonates in her chest, though he doesn’t speak loudly. Michelle raises her head to look at him. “He was not there that night in the church, either.”

“What – “ Michelle says brokenly. Her mother is calling her name, but she can barely hear it. “Then – “

“I am here,” He says in the Reverend’s deep, velvet voice. “I am here, Michelle, and I will not leave you.”

Michelle is shaking, sobbing, gasping for air. “You’re here,” she whispers.

“I am. You are not alone, Michelle Benjamin.” He’s standing near the bed now, and she has to tilt her head to look up at him.

“Shepherd,” she whispers.

“Michelle Shepherd,” he acquiesces with a smile. “You do not walk alone.”

One last lancing pain spears her and Michelle presses her eyes shut in a scream. When she opens them, tears clouding her vision, Reverend Samuels is gone and Hanna and Rose is standing at her feet, holding two small shapes.

Wearily, brokenly, Michelle sags back in the pillows, tears streaming down her temples and into her sweaty hair.

“Michelle,” says her mother in awe. “Meet your children.”

“A boy and a girl,” echoes Hanna.

The two babies don’t look terribly like either herself or David, but the minute she lays eyes on them she feels the absolute truth in the words her mother said almost a year ago. A mother will do anything for her children. Anything.

They are put next to her on the bed, because she is too weak to hold them both. Her eyes fill with tears, but she can’t blink because she is staring too avidly at the two small forms in front of her.

“Samuel,” she breathes softly. “And Ellie, for Eli.”

“You name them for the Reverend and David Shepherd’s brother,” her mother says from her side. “Though one is a traitor and the other is the family of the one who left you alone.”

“I’m not alone,” Michelle says, a smile creeping into the corner of her lips. The words of the Reverend, or whoever was speaking through the Reverend, have settled warmly near her heart. She is not alone.

“David is dead.”

It takes a moment for the words to reach her mind. Finally tearing her eyes from her two children, she looks at her mother in horror. “That is a twisted joke to play on a brand new mother,” she says slowly. “Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s true,” her mother says flatly. He was caught in Gath, sent back to our beautiful city of Shiloh and executed for treason against the crown. It’s as simple as that. He’s gone.”

There is no more strength, no more tears, in Michelle to cry anymore. She stares at her children, who are moving restlessly beside her. Her mother leans over her and kisses her hair. “You did well today, my love.” Michelle hears her footsteps walking through the door.

Hanna leans in to lift the babies away, but Michelle motions for her to stop. “No,” she says, her voice breaking. “I need them here for a little while.”

Slowly, Hanna sits on the bed and strokes Michelle’s arm. “Oh, darling,” she says softly, caringly. At the sound of the sympathy in her voice, Michelle feels a gaping wound open in her chest.

Trembling, she lies in the bed surrounded by three people, and feels so alone that she might disappear.

Fic: Chuck vs. Congress (1/?)

Tue, 04 Aug 2009 03:26:31 GMT

Title: Chuck vs. Congress
Words: 3,211
Summary: Set post 'Chuck vs. The Ring', a potential season 3.
Spoliers: Through 2x22.
Disclaimer: If Chuck were mine, season 3 would be airing RIGHT NOW.
Rating: Light R, to be safe.
Character/Pairings: Chuck/Sarah, Casey, The Awesomes, Beckman, a couple of OCs.
Warnings: Mild sexuality, violence.
Author’s Notes: So, I'm doing an internship on Capitol Hill in Washington DC right now. In honor of my being here, I decided to write a Chuck fic based in the district! :D Here we go.
This first chapter is dedicated to the wonderful michaelamd23, whose birthday was a little over a week ago. Happy (late) birthday, lovlely!!!

Chuck vs. Congress

‘Cause you can shoot me straight
Straight to the heart 'cause you already have it
Say what you wanna say, we're coming out of the gray
What goes around now is coming back down today.
Straight Away – Mat Kearney

--

Marriage had, in many ways, had a calming affect on Ellie. In other ways, it had only served to make her more ferocious. While she happily settled into being Mrs. Awesome (though she smacked Chuck whenever he called her that), the subject of Chuck’s future and where Sarah fit into it now seemed to be something she wouldn’t let slip.

“Oh my God, Ellie, will you drop it? I am not going on a trip with Sarah to propose to her!” Chuck lifted a box full of pictures and scrapbooks and began to walk, trying to ignore his hound-like sister who was at his heels.

“Why else would you two take a long trip to Washington DC?” she countered, popping around him to stand in his path. Chuck stopped and sighed. “Why else, hm? You two have been going out for almost two years, Chuck! It’s time to make a move or call it quits.”

He sidled past her, out towards where Awesome’s car was parked by the curb, crammed with boxes and suitcases. “Remember how well everything turned out the last time I took your advice on that particular course of action?” he quipped dryly, making Ellie frown.

“Well, admittedly, that…wasn’t the right thing to do at the time. But seriously, Chuck, you’re obviously serious about the girl! She’s moving in here in two days and you’re about to take a trip across the country together! Why else are you going to DC, if not to propose?”

Why were they going to Washington DC? Well, the answer was simple, and as Chuck placed the box into Awesome’s car, he mulled it over. He’d been free of the Intersect, he’d done something brave and stupid, he was now stuck with Intersect 2.0, and the government wasn’t so happy about this new and improved Intersect. Or, rather, they were plenty pleased with the new Intersect, just not so much that it was now housed (yet again) in Chuck’s head.

“Just…a vacation,” he said wearily. “We just need a vacation.” How true those words were. Chuck thought back to when he had asked Sarah to do him the honor of going on vacation with him. There was nothing he would like better than to lie on a beach somewhere with only sun and sand and Sarah. No Intersect, no guilt over Bryce, no government interference. Just Sarah.

Ellie made that face she made when she knew Chuck wasn’t telling her the whole truth (which was pretty often these days) but she knew if she pushed it would just be worse. “Well, you two have been stressed out lately.” Suddenly a bright smile broke across her face and she leaned up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Get away from California, brother. The BuyMore, the wedding, all of that is staying back here. You just get away for a while, okay?”

Chuck’s heart swelled with adoration for his sister. “Thanks, El.” He hugged her tightly. “I’ll call you when we get there.”

Awesome came up and clapped his hand on Chuck’s shoulder. “Later, bro. Have an awesome flight.” He leaned in and whispered in Chuck’s ear. “I’ve got your back, bro. No worries.” With a wink and a firm shoulder squeeze, Awesome backed off. Chuck waved to his sister and his…his brother, and then climbed in the car.

He spent most of the drive to Sarah’s thinking about the trip ahead of them. He didn’t really know what was in store for him, which was mildly terrifying, but he assumed that Beckman would want to question him…maybe there would be tests…God, he hoped there weren’t tests.

But really, he’d kind of like to know what was going on with him. Because, you know, he was Chuck Bartowski. And while he’d sort of (not really) gotten used to being the human Intersect, he wasn’t really used to being Neo. Sure, it was cool…but kind of weird. And he’d been so sore afterward he could hardly move. His muscles were not used to moving like that.

And then there was the Sarah issue. Part of Chuck had been (very secretly) hoping that she would find it…hot – or something – that he could all of a sudden turn into a ninja. But no, she had been shocked, then angry at him, and then completely shut off. For God’s sake, Casey had to tell him a couple quick remedies for fighting injuries because she wouldn’t talk to him.

In fact, most of his contact with their little team in the past week had been with Casey. The Colonel seemed almost…proud that Chuck was now carrying the Intersect 2.0. He couldn’t go join his special forces team now, but Chuck kind of thought that Casey was finally starting to like their little ragtag team. Every time he saw Chuck, he sort of puffed up and actually smiled a tiny bit. Sarah just avoided his eyes.

With a sigh, he pulled up in front of her hotel and called her on his cell.

“Hello?” she said, her voice blank.

“I’m here. You want help with your bag?”

“No. I’m fine. I’ll be down in a minute.”

Chuck sighed again, frustrated that his newly enhanced brain didn’t tell him what was going on in the minds of women. Then, guiltily, he looked down at his hands as they gripped the steering wheel. She was probably feeling upset and guilty about Bryce…though she had no reason to. It was all Chuck, this time. It was all on him.

A sharp knock on his window broke him out of his reverie. Sarah was standing outside, her hair back in a tight ponytail, bangs falling across her forehead. She nodded towards the trunk, and he jumped to open it. A few seconds later, she was sliding into the seat next to him.

“Hi,” he said.

“Good morning,” she replied shortly, staring straight ahead.

As they drove, Chuck thought of twelve different ways to start a conversation. All of them sucked. Since when had it been so hard to talk to Sarah?

“So is it just the two of us on this trip?” he said, trying to sound casual. He wouldn’t quite tell if he really wanted it to be just the two of them or if that would be slightly horrific.

“No, Casey’s meeting us at the airport.”

“This ought to be fun,” he muttered. For a tiny moment he expected Sarah to give him a look and tell him to get over it, but she just stared ahead of them. He sighed.

The flight was not a terribly pleasant one. Sarah was the smallest, so she had been allocated to the middle seat, where she sat stoically reading something in German that Chuck didn’t recognize. Not that, you know, he knew German anyway. Chuck was pressed against the window, somehow feeling like the thing to do was to give her space. So he listened to his iPod, watched some crappy in-flight movie and bickered with Casey of Sarah’s head.

“The CIA or NSA couldn’t get us an upgrade to first class or anything?” he said snarkily as he made the two agents stand up to let him get out of his window seat.

“Shut up,” Casey snapped, but he seemed a little annoyed by the same fact.

As they approached DC, he craned his neck to peer out of the tiny window. Down below, he could see the river, the National Mall, the Washington Monument, the Capitol Building…he stared at it avidly, but the other two ignored the view. Chuck, however, had never been to Washington DC before and so was more than a little awed to see the nation’s capitol in person. Then the plane began to circle into National Airport and his view changed from the capitol to a bright stretch of sky.

“So, you two have been really vague about this whole thing,” said Chuck as they waited for their bags. “Now that I’ve put everything on hold and followed you here to DC with barely any explanation, I think I deserve one. I know that Beckman wants to talk to me about the whole Intersect 2.0 thing, but couldn’t we just do a video chat or something?”

“The NSA wants to perform some tests on you,” Sarah said shortly.

“Tests?” Chuck said, mild panic creeping into his voice. “What kind of tests? Not the kind with needles, right, because you guys know how I feel about needles.” They didn’t answer. “Guys? Needles?”

“There are our bags,” said Casey blithely, walking to the carousel to grab their three bags. Chuck could only watch and pray that they were just winding him up.

Again, Chuck was the only one staring out the window as they drove. With Casey at the wheel and Sarah sitting silently in the passenger seat, Chuck was free to ignore them and just look at the beautiful city as they wound their way through it. “Guys, there’s the Jefferson Memorial! And the Washington Monument! And the Smithsonian Castle! And the Air and Space Museum!”

“Chuck, shut it or I will shut it for you,” growled Casey. The tension radiating off of Sarah had begun to affect him, and while he seemed almost excited to show Chuck off to the NSA, he didn’t like the team being broken up. Why was the most agonizing romance of his life not even his own? He shoved that train of thought to the back of his mind and kept on driving.

“Why do people even live on the east coast? It’s so freaking humid here,” Chuck complained, vaguely reminiscent of a five-year-old child.

Casey’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “We both lived here for a good portion of our lives, and didn’t I tell you to shut up?”

“Right. Shutting up.”

Chuck was too busy looking at all of the buildings that were fairly hideous (why oh why had the government decided to build a bunch of buildings in the early 80’s?) but housed important entities. Politics weren’t really his thing, but he got a kick out of seeing the Department of Labor and the Environmental Protection Agency.

They drove up to yet another ugly building, Casey flashed a badge at the guard and they drove down into an underground parking garage. As they climbed out of the car, Chuck couldn’t help but ask more questions.

“So is this where the NSA headquarters are? Is this where the tests are going to happen? You guys totally didn’t answer my question about the needles, either.”

“This is a secure meeting location,” Casey said cryptically. One extremely tense and awkward elevator ride later, Chuck was lead into a conference room with no windows and a one-way mirror taking up one wall. Chuck was starting to get a very bad feeling about this.

They waited for what felt like an eternity. Sarah tried her best to look like she wasn’t pacing, Casey stood completely still with his hands clasped behind his back and Chuck sat facing the one-way mirror, staring at it and trying to quell the nervous tingling that was rising in his stomach.

Finally, the door opened. An older man with horned glasses entered the room, flanked by a middle-aged woman and a younger man who looked younger thank Chuck.

“Dr. Hastings?” asked Sarah quickly.

“Yes, I’m Dr. Hastings,” said the older man. “And these are my colleagues, Dr.s Juneau,” the woman nodded and gave a tiny smile, “and Kent.” The younger man didn’t smile, just nodded in a firm manner. “And I’m assuming that you two are the handlers and you,” he turned towards Chuck, “are Chuck Bartowski. The Human Intersect.”

“Version 2.0,” said Chuck in an awkward attempt to make a joke. Dr. Juneau smiled like she thought it was funny but Hastings and Kent didn’t even blink.

“I’ve already received the testimony of both Walker and Casey, so you two may leave.”

For a moment it looked like Casey and Sarah were going to protest, but then they kept their heads down and left the room. Chuck watched them go and swallowed. This couldn’t be good.

“Now, Mr. Bartowski, we – “

“Chuck’s fine.”

The doctor paused as he was sitting down, blinking at Chuck. “Ah. Alright. Chuck. We are very curious as to how the new Intersect has been changed and how the new flashes work.”

“Shouldn’t you guys, I don’t know, already know that?” Chuck clasped his hands on the table, looking from one doctor to another to another. Only Juneau seemed remotely human to him.

“You are the first human subject for this updated version of the Intersect. And, of course, we only know so much about the human brain. Yours, Mr. Bartowski, is very, very special, as I’m sure you’ve figured out by now.” Chuck gave a breathy laugh and refrained from making a snarky comment. “This Intersect was meant for a trained agent, an agent who knew how to control every aspect of his humanity, who had the previous training to handle the more…intense parts of this Intersect.”

“It was meant for Bryce Larkin,” Chuck said quietly, swallowing back the guilt rising in his throat.

“Yes,” Hastings continued unsympathetically. “And though you have done astonishingly well under the circumstances, we honestly don’t know all of the ramifications of your actions that day regarding the upload of the new Intersect.”

“Let’s cut to the chase,” said Chuck, leaning forward on his elbows. “The tests you want to perform. What are they? You want to test how the new Intersects acts? How I flash? What happens when I flash?”

“Yes,” said Hastings. “We will put you in a number of situations that require you to flash, and we will record what happens.”

They fell silent, waiting for his response. Chuck looked towards the one-way mirror, took a deep breath, and nodded.

“Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

--

On the other side of the mirror, Sarah was gripping her arms so tightly it almost hurt. Casey glanced at her a couple of times, but then figured that it was probably better if, as usual, the two of them didn’t get into the whole emotional stuff. So Sarah just stood there and watched those doctors not even pretend to care about Chuck. They only cared about the supercomputer housed in his head. Which, at this moment in time, she really, really loathed.

She watched as a huge screen was lowered down one wall, and Chuck was seating facing it, facing away from them. She ached to be in there with him, just to put her hand on the back of his neck, to let him know they were there. That she was there.

“He’ll be okay,” Casey said gruffly, but she heard the worry in his voice. This whole time they hadn’t told Chuck about the tests the NSA wanted to perform because they honestly didn’t know what the tests were going to be either. Now, as the doctors began explaining the process, she felt nothing but dread and anger.

“We will run a series of images across the screen.” The doctor’s voice floated to them through the speaker. “You will flash, and we will employ several methods to test what abilities your are given with each flash, and how longs those abilities last. Would I be correct in assuming that your fighting skills disappeared after some time?”

“Yeah,” said Chuck. Sarah could hear the unease in his voice.

“How long did they last?”

“I don’t know.” At the look the doctor gave him, Chuck retaliated. “I was kind of busy with everything else that was going on to catalogue my kung fu skills. Plus, it didn’t really occur to me that they would…fade.”

The doctor made some sort of disapproving humming noise and she saw Chuck’s shoulders tense. Her own did as well, her hackles bristling. No one treated Chuck Bartowski like he was stupid on her watch.

Then the tests began. Sarah paced back and forth in front of the mirror as image after image shot across the screen and Chuck shifted in the chair. The three doctors sat to the side and recorded…doctorly things. Every so often the images would stop and Hastings would ask Chuck what he had flashed on and if he sensed any new abilities. Sometimes nothing new came with the flash, just information. Other times, Chuck would say in a semi-amazed voice that he suddenly knew how to do things like tie and Eye Splice Knot or hotwire a ’67 Mustang or speak Xhosa.

This went on for hours. And hours. It was obvious that the constant flashing was exhausting and quite possibly painful for Chuck. He slumped in his chair and his voice became flat and tired, but the doctors kept on going. Sarah wanted to bang her fist on the one-way mirror and yell at them for being so insensitive towards another human being. Towards Chuck Bartowski, who deserved so much better than this from the government he had been serving.

“Are they going to finish soon?” she said angrily to Casey. “He’s obviously exhausted.” Casey shrugged like he didn’t care, but she could tell by his stance that he was anything but calm. Frustration seething beneath her skin, Sarah turned away. She couldn’t even watch anymore, couldn’t keep feeling so helpless. When it came to protecting Chuck – from anything, anyone – she did not like feeling helpless.

Then, sometime near three in the morning, the doctors finally decided they had enough information to begin (Begin? Sarah seethed in her mind) their research. They left the room, left Chuck in the chair, and didn’t look back. Sarah’s first impulse was to run to Chuck and make sure he was okay, but as she took a step towards the door, something held her back. A lump rose in her throat.

By that time, Casey was already past her and through the door, dragging Chuck to his feet and helping him to the door. Sarah hovered awkwardly, but Chuck was close to passing out with exhaustion, so she slung and arm around him to help Casey.

He smelled like a sterile airplane, but underneath that he smelled like Chuck. It was like a kick to the stomach as she inhaled it, so she held her breath.

--

Chuck woke in a strange hotel room, a beam of sunlight sneaking through the curtains to hit him directly in the eyes. Blinking and sitting up, he stretched his incredibly sore muscles and rubbed a hand across his face. He felt kind of like someone had taken a hammer and hit him over the head with it. Repeatedly. And he wasn’t even hungover. Life just wasn’t fair.

At that moment, the door opened and Casey stuck his head in. Chuck was too tired to be surprised. “Good, you’re awake,” Casey said briskly. “Meeting in half an hour.”

“Meeting with who? And what are you doing in my room?” Chuck asked blearily, running a hand through his hair and making it stand on end.

“We rented a suite. The meeting’s with the new director of the CIA, Benjamin Saunders.” With that, he shut the door.

Chuck let loose a deep-seated sigh. This was going to be some trip.

Fic: Water Rising - Kings (2/?)

Fri, 24 Jul 2009 00:37:41 GMT

Title: Water Rising (on a river turning red) - Chapter Two
Words: 2,535
Summary: The broken road leading to a new king.
Spoliers: Through 'The Sabbath Queen' - AU after that.
Disclaimer: Not mine!!
Rating: Light R
Character/Pairings: David/Michelle heavy, but also Jack, Rose, Sylas.
Warnings: Some dark imagery.
Author’s Notes: After 'The Sabbath Queen' I went a little crazy creating this AU storyline in my head, but have been really lazy about writing it all down. Here's Chapter One!
Title and lyrics from 'All I Need' by Matt Kearney

Water Rising
Chapter Two

“Darling, you can’t meet the press like that! Where’s your stylist?” Queen Rose strode over to where Michelle was leaning against the kitchen counter, her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. It was raining outside, the drops like staccato notes on the window panes.

Michelle put down her mug. “She didn’t come this morning.”

Rose picked up the mug and placed it in the sink, out of sight, before tilting her head to look at her daughter. “Why not? You look like you didn’t sleep a wink last night. Some make-up would be good before the photo op.”

With a sigh, Michelle lightly ran a hand over her forehead. “Maybe that’s because I didn’t sleep very well last night.” She paused, weighing her next words. “I don’t feel well, mother.”

The Queen stopped dead in her tracks before turning back towards her daughter slowly. "You don't...feel well?" repeated Rose slowly. A strange look flashed across her face before it was replaced with calm seriousness. "Like before?"

"No, no," Michelle said in a rush. "Not anything like that. Physically I feel fine. Mentally...I had the strangest dream last night."

Rose's eyebrows shot up. "You nearly give me a heart attack over a dream? Michelle, you can't say things like that after - you nearly scared me to death." She straightened her dress rather violently and gave Michelle a hard look. "We all have our nightmares." Michelle opened her mouth to say something, to explain, but the queen was already sweeping out of the room, Thomasina in her wake.

Michelle sank into a chair, staring blankly at the floor. She stayed there for some time as the every day chaos that was their kingdom continued around her. She only looked up when a pair of shoes materialized before her. Jack stood with his hands in his pockets, smirking down at her.

"Rough night?" he said, the smirk giving away his implication. Michelle didn't rise to the bait, instead looking up at him with faraway eyes and a furrowed brow.

"Do you ever have dreams you think might...be telling you something?" She stumbled over the words, unsure of how to say what she meant and unsure of how her brother would respond.

He shrugged. "All dreams tell us something."

She wrung her hands together. "Do you believe in prophecy?"

At this, his eyebrows shot up. "Here we enter a strange new conversation. Prophecy? Isn't that for country folk? I thought you were a woman of science."

"I just..." she trailed off and ran both her hands over her face. "Never mind. I have to go get ready for the photo."

As Jack strolled away, he called over his shoulder, "Wear that purple dress. It brings out your eyes." Michelle frowned at his retreating back. Sometimes - most of the time - she didn't understand her brother at all.

--

During those many long minutes of standing still and smiling until her cheeks hurt, Michelle caught sight of David. He was standing in the back of the crowd, hands clasped behind his back, most likely here on official business or advising her father. Still, his eyes found hers and he smiled. Suddenly she was smiling in earnest, and her cheeks didn't ache as much.

Her mother was a cool figure beside her, hand on Michelle's shoulder as she stood behind her daughter. There was no movement, no shifting back and forth to relieve aching feet, no gentle squeeze on Michelle's shoulder to let her know they were almost done. Just cool stillness.

Her father, however, was a ball of spitfire energy, as per usual. As he stood next to Jack - why Michelle always had to be the only one sitting, she didn't know, but she abhorred it - he cracked jokes that made the press laugh. They called out questions which he deflected with ease, and then he was saying, "Thank you all, that's enough for now."

“Puppy,” he said in that grating way of his that he thought was charming. She shifted her eyes away. “Is something wrong? You don’t look well.” A shadow crossed his face and he took her chin in one of his hands. “Do you feel ill? Shall I call a doctor?”

“No, father,” she said, turning her head so that her chin was free. “No need. Just a lack of sleep.”

He studied her for a moment, gauging her words, before nodding. “Alright then. I must be off – I have business in the country.” Not for the first time, Michelle felt mildly ill at those words. For years she had been suspecting…but no matter how bad things were, her father would never…she shook her head, banishing the thought.

“Darling,” called her mother. “Come here, I have a question for you.” Michelle walked over to the queen, hands clasped in front of her over the pleated silk skirt of her dress. “It is beginning to be the time where you must show more leadership in the kingdom.” Michelle just barely stopped her eyebrows from shooting up. Hadn’t she shown initiative already? “I would like you to assist me in planning the winter solstice festival.” Her mother smiled, as if she were bestowing a great gift rather than a loathsome burden.

“Haven’t I shown leadership in other arenas already?” asked Michelle, an edge to her voice. “Health care reform? Research for renewable energy? Things that will actually help the kingdom?”

Queen Rose pursed her lips. “Nothing helps a kingdom more than good moral.”

“I’m sure,” she replied dully. She was about to refuse when she remembered the look in her mother’s eyes when the queen had seen her inside the quarantine room. Fear. Love. Anger. Perhaps this was a chance to mend the rift between herself and her mother. “I’ll…help as much as I am able.”

Rose’s face broke into a smile. “There, see, was that so hard?” She lay her hand on her daughter’s cheek. “We’ll have you in shape to be queen in no time.” Michelle could only stare as she walked away.

Queen? Surely not. That was Jack’s place. Jack…and whomever he chose to take the place beside him. But even as she said this, the tiny seed in the back of her mind began to grow. As princess, she was told to choose other pet projects and blocked at every turn. As queen…as queen, the only person to block her would be the king. Her husband. A tiny smile crossed her face. Of course, in that daydream it was David in the throne beside her, and David would never block her attempts to do good in the kingdom. He would encourage them.

Tugging her skirt straight, she walked out of the room and banished the daydream from her head. She and David were unlikely to ever be together, let alone rule the kingdom. That right belonged to Jack.

Still, as she walked down the sunlit corridor, a vision of the bloody throne flashed through her mind. It stopped her in her tracks and goose bumps erupted all across her skin. She gulped in a shaking breath and put a hand on the stone wall to steady herself.
“Princess?” asked one of her guards. “Are you well?”

“Fine,” she said, swallowing back the bile rising in her throat. “Just fine.”

--

She found David easily enough. He was pacing an empty corridor, rehearsing what he was to say in the upcoming press conference. So engrossed in his practice, he didn’t notice her until she lay a hand on his back. He whirled around and caught it tightly in his own. “Oh. Michelle. Sorry.” Instead of dropping it, however, he just held it loosely in his.

Her smile was half-hearted. “Looks like both of us are on edge.”

“You’d think by now I’d be used to speaking in front of a camera.” He shook his head wryly. “I’d much rather be in the background.”

This time her smile was fondly amused. “Not likely. People like their heroes to be visible.” She reached up and ran her fingers along his cheek, feeling the skin heat up. Dodging her comment, David’s eyes traced her face. His brows furrowed.

“Is everything alright with you? You look like you didn’t sleep at all last night.” Gently, he traced the shadows under her eyes. She ducked her head and felt him chuckle. “What, you didn’t dream of me?” he said teasingly.

“No, I didn’t.” Her voice was much more serious. “David…do you believe in premonition?”

He frowned at her. “Premonition?” When she showed no sign of joking, he shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. There was a time when…I didn’t think at the time it meant anything, but looking back I realize it was a sign from God.” He laughed wryly. “Actually, I think I’ve had two signs from God now. Pointing me on the right path.”

Michelle shook her head. “No…not God.” She broke away from him and ran both hands over her face. “God had no place in my dream.”

“A dream?” he said. “Are you sure it wasn’t just that – a dream?”

“I know it wasn’t,” she said fiercely. “It was too…it was surreal, but it felt like a sign of something to come. Something bad.”

There was a long pause in which Michelle found herself reliving the dream – wading through the bloody throne room, standing frozen before the woman who –

“Are you sure?” David broke her train of thought and jolted her out of the dream. She turned to him and saw in his eyes that he accepted what she said as truth. She almost smiled. David was nothing if not a believer.

“Sure,” she said. “Positive. It was so real.” She shuddered and he immediately rubbed his hands up and down her upper arms.

“Can’t have the princess catching a cold, now can we?” he said jokingly. A smile crept into the corners of her mouth.

“Thank you,” she said for the unspoken favor of cheering her up. Glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone was coming, she stood on her toes and quickly pressed her lips to his. “Tomorrow, okay?”

“Tomorrow,” he replied.

“Good luck!” she called over her shoulder as she walked away. He smiled and lifted his hand in a quick wave.

But even as she walked away with a lightness in her step, a chill swept across her skin. She shivered and wondered when this dream would leave her.

--

Not for some time, it would seem. That night when she finished tossing and turning in her too-big room full of silk curtains and moonlight and finally slipped into sleep, she found herself back in the same corridor. The stones were freezing cold beneath her feet, so cold that it felt like the bottoms of her feet were burning, but she couldn’t walk quickly enough.

But as she took another step, her feet became unexpectedly warm, and when she looked down she saw everything from her ankles down was encased in a pool of red blood. Bile rose in her throat, but she could do nothing to stop the movement of her legs.

She was there again, the tall woman. Her dark eyes – dark in a way that they held no reflection of light – followed Michelle as she walked toward the dais, toward the blood-soaked throne. As she approached, the woman looked down on her and Michelle was awash with a sense of knowing.

Something was coming.

“Something is coming,” the woman affirmed, as if Michelle had spoken the words aloud. “Your time is coming, Michelle Benjamin.” Her softly accented voice slid coolly into Michelle’s ears. She wanted to respond, but of course she couldn’t. This was a dream. Just a dream.

“Not a dream,” said the woman quietly. With slow purpose, she reached and set her hand on the back of the throne. “It is coming, Michelle.”

“Miss Benjamin!”

The shout woke her, a scream stuck in her throat. Gasping hoarsely, she found herself looking up into the eyes of one of her guards, leaning over her bed with fear in his eyes. He swallowed. “You were screaming in your sleep, miss.”

Michelle wiped the sweat from her brow. “Get my coat.”

“Miss?”

“I’m going out.”

--

Her hands were freezing by the time they knocked on David’s door. It took him a while to answer, though she couldn’t blame him as it was nearly three in the morning and he would of course be asleep.

He blinked blearily when he opened the door. “Michelle?”

“Can I come in?” she asked, ashamed at how small her voice was.

“Of course,” he said, confusion still heavy in his voice. He stood aside and looked over her shoulder at her guard as she swept inside. “Are you okay?”

She quickly shed her coat and stood on the tips of her toes, dragging his face down to hers. He kissed her back out of instinct as her kisses became more urgent, hasty, but she could feel his reluctance. When her hands found their way inside his shirt and up his muscled stomach, he quit holding back and responded with abandon.

They fell into his bed with a sharp exhalation of air, ripping each other’s clothing off and cold skin finding warm. Michelle let her mind go black, let herself think only of David and his goodness, David and his light that drove away all of the bad things in her life. He grinned as he held her, still in awe that they were able to be together, and she returned it. After all those months, years, of denying herself, this was what living was meant to feel like.

She fell asleep with David’s arms tightly around her, his solid warmth pressed against her back, feeling safe for the first time in days.

--

Her feet her hot, scalding, and ankle-deep in blood. She didn’t have the will power to be shocked, but she felt her heart pounding in her chest. No, she couldn’t be back here again.

But there was the woman again. This time, however, Michelle stepped out of the blood and onto the dais, just to the left of the throne. The woman walked towards her, slowly, her grey dress dragging through the red pool covering the flagstone floor.

When she reached the base of the dais, the woman stopped and looked up at Michelle with her dead black eyes. “You time, Michelle.” Her voice was sickeningly soothing. “It’s here.”

“What do you mean?” Somehow Michelle found the strength to speak.

“Look,” the woman said, nodding towards the throne. Michelle turned her head.

“Michelle!”

The shout woke her, a scream stuck in her throat. Gasping for air, she looked up and saw David over her, his eyes full of confusion and concern. “You were screaming in your sleep, you were – “

She rolled away from him, quickly, and raced to the window, yanking it open. The cold air hit her like a sharp slap to the face, but she welcomed it. Gasping it in till her throat ached, she gripped the window sill with white knuckles.

David had been sitting in the bloody throne.

Fic: Water Rising - Kings (1/?)

Tue, 14 Jul 2009 01:41:51 GMT

Title: Water Rising (on a river turning red) - Chapter One
Words: 2,579
Summary: The broken road leading to a new king.
Spoliers: Through 'The Sabbath Queen' - AU after that.
Disclaimer: Not mine!!
Rating: Light R
Character/Pairings: David/Michelle heavy, but also Jack, Rose, Sylas.
Warnings: Some dark imagery.
Author’s Notes: After 'The Sabbath Queen' I went a little crazy creating this AU storyline in my head, but have been really lazy about writing it all down. Here's Chapter One!
Title and lyrics from 'All I Need' by Matt Kearney

Water Rising

Here it comes it's all blowing in tonight
I woke up this morning to a blood red sky
They're burning on the bridge turning off the lights
We're on the run I can see it in your eyes
If nothing is safe then I don't understand
You call me your boy but I'm trying to be the man
One more day and it's all slipping with the sand
You touch my lips and grab the back of my hand
The back of my hand

Guess we both know we're in over our heads
We got nowhere to go and no home that's left
The water is rising on a river turning red
It all might be okay or we might be dead
If everything we've got is slipping away
I meant what I said when I said until my dying day
I'm holding on to you, holding on to me
Maybe it's all gone black but you're all I see
You're all I see

The walls are shaking, I hear them sound the alarm
Glass is breaking so don't let go of my arm
Grab your bags and a picture of where we met
All that we'll leave behind and all that's left
If everything we've got is blowing away
We've got a rock and a rock till our dying day
I'm holding on to you, holding on to me
Maybe it's all we got but it's all I need
You're all I need

And if all we've got, is what no one can break,
I know I love you, if that's all we can take,
the tears are coming down, they're mixing with the rain,
I know I love you, if that's all we can take.

A pool is running for miles on the concrete ground
We're eight feet deep and the rain is still coming down
The TV's playing it all out of town
We're grabbing at the fray for something that won't drown.

--

Chapter One

It was painful, really. Michelle stood in between her mother and her brother and tried desperately not to look in David's direction. He was standing a little off to the side in his military uniform with his hands clasped behind his back, and she wanted to grin at the secret knowledge that they were together now. Really together, in a way she never thought she would be with anyone. And, in all honesty, she hadn't thought she'd ever find someone who would even make her consider breaking her vow.

But she wasn't really breaking it, was she? How does God not want love? Just thinking about it made her shiver with all the ramifications of those words. It wasn't just that she wanted to be with David enough to make her vow fit her wishes, but he had spoken the truth. God is Love, she thought. How can God not want love?

Love. David loved her. She shifted impatiently on her feet as her father kept speaking, his voice booming out through the large conference room. All she had to do was stand here and look respectable, and she was finding that much more difficult than usual. Mostly because she had to concentrate very hard so her eyes didn't inadvertently drift towards David.

Once she looked over and caught him glancing at her but she didn't dare smile.

After the press conference, she innocently asked him if he would walk with her. He agreed.

Looping her arm through his, they strolled through the halls. When the noise of the conference had faded somewhat, David stopped and turned towards her, a smile creeping across his face.

"No, not here," she said quietly. "The walls have eyes." Disappointment crossed his face but he nodded. As they kept walking, she slid her hand so that her fingers were tangled with his and squeezed. She felt him smile.

"Can I see you tonight?" he asked a little while later.

"I'm not sure," she replied slowly.

"I haven't seen you in three days," was his slightly disappointed response. She laughed and looked up at him playfully.

"You see me almost every day."

"Not really. I don't get to see you." His voice dipped and she almost blushed at the implication. Or, she would have blushed if she weren’t too busy being distracted by the butterflies that had just erupted in her stomach. She bit her lip.

"Tomorrow night. Tonight we're having friends of the family over for a big dinner, but tomorrow...Tomorrow I can slip out unnoticed." She couldn't help but grin in response to the happiness that crossed his face. For a moment he leaned in, like he was about to kiss her, but then he stopped. They stared at each other for a moment.

"Tomorrow," he said.

"Tomorrow," she repeated. As he walked away, she realized she was glad he hadn't leaned in all the way to kiss her, because she wasn't sure she would have had the strength to pull away.

--

Michelle had a moment, just after she knocked on his door, to be nervous. She had left her guard and slipped through the streets, hopping in a cab and almost running up the stairs at David's. Breathing a little hard - from running up the stairs in addition to intense anticipation - she had smoothed her hair once before realizing she didn't care, and then had knocked on the door.

Incredibly quickly, David opened the door. He inhaled sharply at the sight of her and in an instant they were reaching for each other.

She didn’t think she would ever tire of the way it felt to kiss David. It was half painful, desperate, as if the world were about to end at any moment. It was also half joyful, because they were finding happiness in each other than only love could bring.

Somewhat forcefully, he tore her coat back from her shoulders. She let him, trying to find his lips as he did so and attempting to kick the door shut with her foot. Her aim was off, however, and she stumbled, letting out a little shriek and nearly toppling them both over. He laughed against her mouth and Michelle’s heart soared. As they shed their clothes on the floor, she thought to herself, how can God not want this? This. This perfect union between two people. How did I think God would disapprove of this? How could he?

She arched her back as he lay on top of her, eager to feel all of her bare skin against all of his, her hair spreading like a dark river across his pale sheets. His kissed his way down her neck and she felt her stomach quiver in breathless anticipation. Her fingers tangled with his hair until he raised his head to look down at her.

The look in his eyes made gooseflesh ripple over her skin. This is love, she thought as she placed her hand gently on the side of his face. How can God not want this? He lowered his head until his lips just barely touched and they breathed the same air for a moment. Then she raised her chin just a centimeter and pressed her lips to his, opening at the gentle prompting of his tongue. It was a strange feeling to let herself have something she wanted.

“Michelle,” he breathed, his slick skin sliding across hers as they moved together. “God, Michelle.” One of her hands gripped the pillow under her head as the other clenched in his hair, and she opened her mouth in a silent exclamation. She wanted to tell him how much he meant to her, how much this meant to her, but her mind was white – pure, unadulterated pleasure and pain and joy all wrapped into one moment.

“David,” she managed, before she fell.

Later, Michelle found herself staring up at the ceiling, an arm bent back underneath her head, absentmindedly tracing patterns on David’s warm skin. He was awake, but just barely. They had been lying in silence for a good twenty minutes, just pressed against each other and thinking.

“I’m assuming you can’t stay the night,” he said quietly. She didn’t answer, and he propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at her with quiet sadness in his eyes. After a beat, she shook her head just the tiniest bit.

“No, I can’t. I’ve been missed already.”

He frowned. “Then why hasn’t the royal guard burst through my door and aimed their guns at my head?”

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She raised a hand to cup his cheek and he leaned into it. “Because they are thoroughly convinced that you are just a friend. And because I have an agreement with my bodyguard.”

“What kind of agreement?” he asked in mock suspicion. The grin she’d been holding back spread across her face.

“If I go somewhere safe, he agrees to be somewhere within a reasonable distance but he doesn’t tell the king. Or the queen. Or Jack, for that matter.” Her thumb ran back and forth across his cheekbone. “So I get time to myself, if I want it.”

“Or time with me,” he amended softly.

“Or time with you,” she agreed. He placed and arm over her waist and leaned down to kiss her. She breathed him in eagerly, still so thrilled at every touch of his that she could sing. When her breathing began to get ragged in and he was rolling on top of her, she somehow managed to pull back. “I have to go, David.”

His sigh blew across her face. “I know. I know. I’m sorry.” He brushed the tip of his nose against hers. “It’s so hard to let you go. I just want to spend the night with you in my arms.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Oh, love. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she whispered.

“Later today,” he corrected in amusement.

“Even better,” she replied, a smile on her lips. Neither of them moved, however, and she ran her hand over his forehead and back across his hair. “David?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

It was the first time she had said it aloud, though she had been thinking it for some time now. For a long time now, actually. Maybe since she’d read the paper in the morning and the front page story had been of a boy hero standing up to the Goliath. Maybe since she had caught him playing piano. Maybe since he had traced her cheekbone on the day of the treaty signing. Still, she had never said those words to anyone outside of her family – and to her family she said them rarely – and they tasted different on her tongue.

The air around them got heavy, and Michelle was suddenly aware that something had shifted. He ran a hand across her temple and she knew, somehow, that he was it for her. The thought was more than a little unsettling, as if…he were the end of something for her, as well as the beginning. Her heart gave one strong thump and a sense of foreboding made the little hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

“Michelle,” he breathed, and the feeling disappeared. His lips crashed onto hers, and she welcomed him. They scrambled in the sheets, trying to get as close to each other as possible. She reveled in the feel of his strong, solid form, the soft golden hairs on his chest, the curls at the base of his neck, the fullness of his lips.

She had to break away. “David. I – God.” His hands were on her, skimming across her ribs and cupping her breasts. “David.” It was meant to be a sign for him to stop, but the words had somehow morphed into a plea for him to continue. He tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth and she dug her nails into his back. “David.”

It was somewhere past the middle of the night when she finally slipped out of his bed and into her clothing, feeling his eyes burning into her bare back the entire time. It made her smile.

“Good night,” she said, buttoning the last bit of her jacket and turning to him.

“Good morning,” he replied, sitting up in bed with the sheets pooled around his waist. She was suddenly struck with the memory of those photos he took on the night the lights died, when time had stopped for them. Heat pooled in her chest.

Instead of saying goodbye again, she just stepped over to the bed for one last, lingering kiss, tipping his chin up with her small hand. “I’ll dream of you tonight.” Then she turned and walked out of the room into the dark, cool hallway.

--

By the time she had met up with her guard again and had slipped back into the palace, it was nearly two in the morning. Michelle rubbed her temple absently, wondering if she had time to sleep in the next morning. No, she had a meeting at 8:30. Ah well.

“You’re home late.”

The voice nearly made her jump out of her skin. Jack sat at the kitchen table, a glass of amber liquid in one hand and a book in the other. To calm her pounding heart, she tucked her hands in her pockets and walked over to him.

“Reading? I’d forgotten you knew how.”

He smiled knowingly. “Charming. So much wit in such a tiny package.”

She ignored his response to her attempted quip and crossed her arms. “What are you doing up so late? Usually when I see you at this time of day you’re just heading out to a club.” Her tone was half disdainful, half teasing. He was her brother, after all.

Jack shrugged and dropped the book on the table, taking a long gulp from his crystal glass. Michelle frowned. “You’re going to hurt the binding if you put the book down like that.” He gazed at her steadily and made no move to fix it.

Michelle sighed and turned to go. “Good night, Jack.”

“How is David?”

She turned slowly. “Well, I assume.”

Again, Jack gave her a knowing look. “Come now, little sister. Don’t pretend like you didn’t just leave his bed.”

She met his gaze firmly. “It’s really none of your business.”

“I don’t know,” Jack replied slowly. “He is your first, right? Don’t I have to play the big brother and grill him?”

“You’ve never taken any interest before, so why start being a big brother now?” she shot back.

“There haven’t been any before him,” he said, anger creeping into his voice. He said something else under his breath but Michelle missed it. Then he calmed again. “I wonder what our dear old father would have to say about you and the boy hero.”

At that, Michelle snapped. “You can’t tell him,” she said sharply. When her brother just raised his eyebrows, she took a step closer and lay a hand on his shoulder. “Jack, please. Please.”

He was silent for a moment and she could see a muscle clench in his jaw. But then he nodded tersely and she let loose the breath she had been holding. “Thank you.” On a whim, she leaned down and kissed his cheek. “Good night, Jack.”

When he didn’t respond, she turned and walked upstairs to her room.

--

That night, she didn’t dream of David.

She was wandering through the darkened hallways of the palace. It was similar to the night the lights had gone out, but every room was empty and there were no candles to give off a warm glow. The stone floor was cold beneath her bare feet.

She was somehow at the door leading into the large banquet hall, pushing them open without feeling her muscles strain, and looking inside.

She was staring at the floor, trying to place its color in the darkness…red. It was red. Covered in blood. Revulsion pooled in her throat but somehow she was stepping into the room, her bare feet surrounded by warm blood.

She was looking up, then, as something dark and flickering lunged past her, deeper into the room. There was a figure on a platform in the center of the hall, illuminated by some pale, ghostly light that didn’t have an origin. It was a woman, a tall, willowy woman with striking features and nondescript coloring. Her dark eyes followed Michelle as she came closer and closer to the platform.

She was staring at the woman, seeing death in her eyes, and barely noticed what she was now standing in front of. It was a throne, made of wood and gold. No one sat in it, but against one of the arms rested a golden scepter, tarnished and battered. The woman slowly raised a hand and touched the back of the chair.

She was trying desperately to run as blood poured forth from the throne. It pooled around Michelle’s ankles but she couldn’t seem to move her feet. In sheer panic, she looked from the blood up at the woman.

She was going cold, so cold, and she smelled death in the room. Then the woman opened her mouth, opened it larger than any human being should be able to, and let loose a hellish, shrieking noise.

Michelle awoke with a strangled yell, tangled in her sheets.

"Bring me the finest muffins and bagels in the land!"

Thu, 02 Jul 2009 00:25:08 GMT

Mini real-life update for those who don't know what's goin' on with me. :)

- I'm in Washington DC for the summer, interning for a US Senator. :DDDD IT'S AMAZING. I mean, not all of it's glamorous, but I've never been to DC before and to be running around in the underground tunnels underneath the Capitol building...it's SO FREAKING EXCITING. And getting to see the health care reform that's going on...in person?? I am just LOVING IT. Also, DC is just freaking amazing.
Congress is in recess right now so not a whole lot's going on...but after recess we're tackling health reform again...and starting to draft our version of the cap and trade bill that the House just passed.

- Working my way through season 1 of Alias. Why has no one ever told me this show is pure awesome???

I got ALL excited when Sydney and Vaughn broke into the Vatican (!!!) but then this Noah dude showed up. And he's, like, a much less cool and much less pretty Vaughn. Lame. I want Sydney and Vaaaauuuuughn! They were just the perfect team ever in Italy. AYAYAYAY.
Anyway, I don't like Noah and I hope he goes away soon. Also, I <3 Dickson,
But I love this show.
Lots.

- Have started writing really epic Kings fic, because it crept up on me like that. It's turning into quite the dark, epic multi-chapter thing...ayayayay. I don't have time for this! I'm working 42 hour work weeks for free! *headdesk*

- Trying to flesh out a multi-chapter Chuck fic that partially takes place in DC...and receiving noooo inspiration whatsoever. It's all going to my Kings fic. Oy vey.

Anyway, I hope everyone has a good 4th of July weekend (for those in the US)!!! I'm excited to see all that happens in DC for the 4th. :D

Fic: Maybe I'm Amazed - part II

Tue, 23 Jun 2009 04:29:46 GMT

Title: Maybe I'm Amazed - part II
Words: 1,974
Summary: The sequel to 'Maybe I'm Amazed'
Spoliers: General.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.
Rating: PG-15
Character/Pairings: Mentions of all the kids, Finn/Rachel.
Warnings: Mild sexuality.
Author’s Notes: Thanks so much for all the support I received on the first part!! I wasn't even planning to write a second part, but after some urging, it kind of took over my brain. XD

I wanna wake up where you are
I won't say anything at all
So why don't you slide

And I'll do anything you ever
Dreamed to be complete
Little pieces of the nothing that fall
May put your arms around me
What you feel is what you are
And what you are is beautiful
May do you wanna get married
Or run away
Slide – The Goo Goo Dolls

--

Before the party had even ended, it was over. Finn was surprised by how quickly it happened, by how quickly a relationship he’d been trying to build for nearly five months could crumble in just a few minutes.

But before he knew it, Quinn had heard from somebody at the party that he and Rachel had been locked in the upstairs bathroom together for a good twenty minutes (had it been that long?) and she had torn the house apart to find him. When she did, there had been lots of screaming at she had torn his stupid Robin Hood hat off his head and chucked it out a window. Finn cringed just thinking about it. Even though he knew he had to break up with Quinn eventually because he wanted Rachel (who had mysteriously disappeared once he and Quinn had started fighting), he never wanted to hurt her, and he hated to see that her eyes got red from unshed tears.

Still, she had thrown a drink in his face and at that point he stopped feeling bad.

A little while later, he stepped out the front door to make his way home, covered in sticky juice and alcohol. The party was winding down (that, and one of the neighbors had just called the cops on them for noise), so he decided it was time to go home. And there, sitting quietly on the front steps, was Rachel Berry.

Her hair was wild down her back and there was a definitely visible brownish stain on her white nightgown, but she still looked beautiful. Finn swallowed.

“Hey,” he said. She looked up, eyes huge and make-up a little smudged. He smiled, more than a little unsure. “What are you doing out here?”

She shrugged. “I’m not really sure. Getting some air.”

Just then, a group of people streamed past them, yelling and laughing, into the street. In the distance, Finn could here sirens. Quickly, he leaned down and grabbed Rachel’s hand, pulling her to her feet. “Come on, we gotta go.”

“Wait, what?” she said, sounding highly offended. “Where are we going?”

“That cops are coming! We have to run.” The adrenaline was starting to pump in his veins, so he gripped her hand more tightly and ran down the street in his ridiculous Robin Hood costume that was meant for a 12-year-old. Rachel ran beside him, muttering something angrily about heels and trying not to trip and fall on her face. He laughed.

When they were a few blocks away, Finn found that they had somehow run in a different direction than anyone else at the party. He slowed to a walk and Rachel did the same behind him, panting.

“You can’t just run like that and expect me to keep up,” she said archly. “My legs are much, much shorter than yours.” He didn’t reply, just laughed a little. “And why were we running from the cops?”

“Someone called them on us because the party was too loud.” They were still holding hands, though neither of them seemed to realize it.

Her eyebrows shot up. “Someone called the cops on us? Oh my God, we could have been arrested! Oh my God, that could have totally ruined my career. How would that have looked when I get famous and someone’s interviewing me about my past as the good girl in high school that no one noticed until it was too late and she became a star? Finn, that was totally your fault. I’m never listening to you again.” In a huff, she tore her hand out of his and quickened her pace to be in front of him.

Finn was torn between laughing hysterically and running after her. He ran after. “Rach, come on. That’s what all high school parties are like. You just experienced something completely, utterly normal.”

She paused and looked up at him, arms crossed over her chest. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” He smiled.

She glared up at him for a moment longer before grudgingly shrugging. “I guess that’s okay, then.”

He noticed she was shivering, which wasn’t unexpected, seeing as her nightgown showed off a lot of skin. “Here,” he said, whipping off his hooded cloak. “Have this.”

She raised one eyebrow in amusement. “Thanks.” He tied it around her, hands lingering on her shoulder. She bit her lip. “Won’t Quinn mind?”

“We broke up,” he blurted.

There was a long pause as Rachel just looked up at him. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he said, not really sure what she meant. Still, he thought he’d give it a shot. He took a step closer and reached out to take her hand. Immediately, she stepped back out of his reach. In confusion, he furrowed his brow. “Rachel?”

“I’m not going to be anybody’s sloppy seconds,” she said archly before turning and walking down the street with her chin in the air.

In shock, Finn just watched her go.

--

Finn had never seen Spring Awakening or whatever character she’d been for Halloween, but as he lay in bed that night he couldn’t help imagining Rachel in her fluttery white nightgown (though in his head there was less of it) and black stockings.

When he woke up he was hot and sweaty and more than a little ashamed. He never had dreams like this about Quinn. Well, he did have dreams about her, just not like those dreams. Nowhere even close.

He dreamt about hoisting her up onto a piano and having his way with her, her heeled feet hooked around his back. He dreamt about her calling his name as he dark hair flowed out over white sheets. He dreamt about her smiling and singing her heart out on stage, but only he was in the audience.

Needless to say, he never felt very well rested when he woke up.

--

At school, it was like nothing happened. Actually, it was worse than that. Rachel basically ignored him beyond basic politeness, and he only really saw her in Glee practice. The few times he tried to single her out to talk, she ducked out of his reach before he could get three words out. It was like she was playing some game where she pretended he didn’t exist.

Needless to say, Finn was frustrated. How could they share a night like they had, an amazing night, and then act like it never happened? He had broken up with his girlfriend, for God’s sake, and now he just looked like a moron.

Still, he wasn’t done trying. He’d given up a lot of things to be in this freaking Glee club, and he wanted Rachel a lot more than he wanted to be in New Directions.

“Hey Finn?” said Artie one day as rehearsal ended. Finn was staring after Rachel as she hurriedly left the auditorium. She wasn’t angrily ignoring him, just merely acting like he didn’t exist. He frowned.

“Yeah?”

Artie wheeled in closer and made a thoughtful face. “What in the world did you do to Rachel?”

“I didn’t do anything!” exploded Finn defensively. “She’s just being…insane and – and…I didn’t do anything!” His arms dropped to his side after his outburst and he stood there awkwardly. Mercedes and Kurt gave him odd looks and Tina just blinked at him before they filed out of the room.

“Um, okay,” said Artie in a placating manner. “So why is she so pissed, then?”

“I have no idea,” Finn said angrily. Artie didn’t say anything, he just waited. Finn crossed his arms. “Fine. We kissed on Halloween.” Artie didn’t react, and Finn looked at him. “Are you…surprised or something?”

Artie shrugged. “No, not really, seeing as everyone in the school already knows that. Quinn was kind of vocal about your break-up.”

With a sigh, Finn ran his hands over his face. “Great. Awesome.”

After a long pause, Artie spoke up again. “And now you want to be with Rachel?”

“Yeah,” Finn sighed. “I do.”

Another pause. “Doesn’t seem that hard to me,” Artie said simply.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Just…go for it.”

--

Rachel Berry was not a girl to run home after school, lock herself in her room, and cry her eyes out. Okay, so maybe she was. Still, it wasn’t a terribly normal event. Yeah, she felt hurt and depressed when the Cheerios bashed her singing via MySpace, but she could keep going because she was going to be a star and they were all going to end up suburban housewives.

But, of course, all it took was a boy. One boy. Finn Hudson.

Of course she wanted to be with him – of course she did! She’d be completely deceiving herself if she didn’t admit that she wanted to go out with him. To be his best friend. To be around him all the time. To…

But therein lay the problem. At first, she had just told herself that while she might have very little experience when it came to boys, she knew that you didn’t go out with a boy right after he’d broken up with someone else. No one wants to be a rebound. No problem, right? Well, that wasn’t completely true.

She could pass it off as a social faux pas all she wanted, but in all honesty, she was being so hesitant because she was scared. Terrified. Out of her mind.

And once her hard-as-nails person cracked, she didn’t know where she’d be. If she opened the her walls just that much, wouldn’t the things Quinn and the Cheerios said actually hurt more? Wouldn’t everything hurt more?

So Rachel lay there in her fluffy bed, surrounded by stuffed toys that were supposed to bring comfort, and cried quietly, her stomach aching from the effort it took not to sob.

--

It was nearly 10:30 when Finn knocked on her door. One of her dads answered, and when he saw Finn, his eyes lit up.

“Pumpkin!” he called up the stairs. “A young man is here to see you!” Retreating gleefully as Rachel came down the stairs, her dad disappeared into what Finn thought was the kitchen. Finn swallowed and stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Yes?” Rachel said, stepping outside and shutting the door behind her. She was wearing leggings and a sweatshirt – the least dressed up he had ever seen her – and kind of looked like she’d been crying.

“Um,” he said, and suddenly all his courage failed him. “I…go out with me, Rachel.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Is that supposed to make me want to go out with you? A demand? Because if you think that I’m the type of girl who – “

“Okay, never mind. Let me start over,” he interrupted. “What I meant was…Rachel, will you please go out with me?”

She swallowed and looked up at him. “No.”

“Why?” he asked.

She shrugged uncomfortably. “Just…because.”

“Rachel – “

“Finn, we just can’t. It’s just not…acceptable. I can’t go out with you right after you broke up with Quinn.”

“Why not?” he said, his voice rising.

“Because you just don’t do that!” she said, her cheeks flushed with anger.

In the darkness, he stared at her for a moment in disbelief, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Rachel Berry, you’re the one that told me that sometimes there are things that are more important than your reputation.” He took a step closer. “Tell me this isn’t one of them.”

Her breath caught as she looked up at him with huge eyes. When he raised a hand to brush her hair back from her face, she went completely and utterly still, a deer caught in the headlights.

“Rachel,” he breathed somewhat pleadingly. “Why not?”

Her exhale was shaky. “I…can’t really think of any reason.”

With a smile, he slipped his hand under her hair and leaned in closer to kiss her.

Fic: If the World Ends - Kings

Sun, 21 Jun 2009 21:15:42 GMT

Title: If the World Ends (I hope you're here with me)
Words: 1,487
Summary: A continuation of the scene at the end of 'Brotherhood'.
Spoliers: Through 'Brotherhood'
Disclaimer: Not mine!!
Rating: PG-13 (to be safe)
Character/Pairings: David/Michelle
Warnings: None.
Author’s Notes: I wrote this after 'Brotherhood' and before 'The Sabbath Queen', but after watching 'The Sabbath Queen' I went back and tweaked the end of this to fit how that episode begins.

If the World Ends

if the world ends
i hope you're here with me
i think we could laugh just enough
to not die in pain.
– the guillemots

The three flights of stairs until David’s floor felt like the Himalayans. Michelle felt like she had been kicked in the stomach, like she was hollow and aching inside. Each step was leaden, though she was only wearing delicate heels. There was a weight in her chest, throbbing near her heart, and it made emotion gather in her throat.

When she finally reached his door, she almost turned around and left. She and David weren’t exactly on perfectly good terms and she really didn’t want to have to discuss their issues right now. Right now, she just needed him to hold her and tell her everything was okay.

When that thought fluttered through her mind, she very nearly turned and left. Michelle Benjamin was not that girl, the one who needed to be held and coddled and taken care of. She could take care of herself.

But as soon as she took a step away from his door, the throbbing in her chest just got worse. Stopping sharply and swallowing, her hands clenched. It took a moment for her to be able to push open his door.

He was sitting on his bed, staring at something small in his hands, and the look in his eyes when he saw her made her entire body ache. Slowly, painfully, she made her way over to him. His eyes remained on her the whole time, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze because she knew she would break if she did.

When she sat beside him, close enough to feel his warmth, he ducked his head slightly and she could feel the sympathy in his eyes. She swallowed, her eyes burning with unshed tears. Just don’t look at him. Feeling like her whole body was underwater, she slowly lowered her head to his shoulder.

David, for his part, didn’t try to say something to make her feel better. He just let her rest for a moment, turning his face into her hair and wrapping his arm around her side.

They stayed like that for a long, long time, deep into the morning. The sun was warm on the back of her dark coat but Michelle felt chilled. It took her a moment to realize that she was actually shaking, and though David was rubbing his hand up and down her side, she couldn’t make herself stop.

“Michelle?” David asked softly. “What do you need?” She opened her mouth to say something – though she wasn’t sure what she was going to say – but her teeth wouldn’t stop chattering. David stood and pulled her to her feet. “Here,” he said, and began to unbutton her coat. Somewhere in the back of Michelle’s mind was her mother, busy being very offended at the impropriety of this situation, but Michelle welcomed it. For all her desire for independence, it did feel nice to be taken care of. And, she realized, after this morning, she did need someone to take care of her instead of the other way around.

Once her coat was off, he somehow managed to get her to step out of her heels. Still in her designer dress, Michelle found herself shakingly crawling into his bed, too tired and too beaten to resist. When she was there, David pulled the covers up to her chin and tucked her in. Then he left.

Curled in a ball on her side – as much as her dress would allow – Michelle watched him until he was out of her line of sight and felt tears prickle the back of her eyes. Was he going to let her stay here alone? She wouldn’t really blame him, after the last time they had spoken, but she found herself desperately wanting to feel his solid warmth by her side. David made her feel wanted, cherished, in a way that no amount of fancy clothes or opportunities could. She really was a princess who didn’t know her place.

She was beginning to think that her place was David.

A moment later, before she had really completed the thought, he reappeared, carrying another blanket in his arms. He shook it out and spread it over her. Then he moved out of her range of vision again, though she could hear him moving around the room. She heard him drop something, and then the mattress dipped behind her. Inhaling sharply, Michelle found her body going completely still as David slipped into his bed behind her, curving his body to hers and sliding his arm solidly around her waist.

“I’m here,” he whispered, breath hot on the back of her neck. Michelle tensed, pain lancing through her body. For a moment, instead of seeing David’s plain bedside table, she was again staring at a small boy and waiting for him to slip into death. The tears she had been holding back since earlier that day were suddenly too much to hold back, and they silently slipped down her cheeks and onto his pillow. Her body shook, but this time with the effort it took to hold back her sobs. “I’m here,” he said, and she heard the little boy tell her that he couldn’t see.

Rolling over in his arms, she buried her face in his chest and quietly came apart at the seams. He didn’t say anything else, just held her as she trembled. Once she felt his body tense like he was holding back some intense emotion, but he just held her until her tears were spent.

She looked up at him, feeling exhausted and rather soggy, and he gently pushed some hair back from her face. His eyes were red. She swallowed and suddenly felt incredibly selfish for coming to him and expecting him to make everything better.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered hoarsely. “I didn’t even – your mission with Jack – “

“Don’t worry about it,” he interrupted, wiping the wetness from her face and gently kissing her cheekbone. “Just go to sleep.” She opened her mouth to protest but he pressed his lips to hers. “Sleep.”

She slept.

--

When she woke, the sun was setting outside of David’s windows and she blinked against the reddish glow. His arm wasn’t around her anymore, and when she rolled over she saw him shaking in his sleep, twitching and trembling.

She pushed herself up on her forearm and shook his shoulder, stroked his cheek. “David? David, wake up. It’s just a nightmare.” Eyes still closed tightly, he tried to push her away. “David, wake up,” she said more firmly.

With a violent start, David’s eyes flew open. He sat up slowly, gasping in deep breaths of air. She sat with him and ran a hand up and down his arm as he wrapped it around his knees. After a long moment, his breathing evened out and she hesitantly rested her chin on his shoulder.

“What was the dream about?” she whispered.

David swallowed and stared straight ahead. “I…killed someone. To save Jack’s life.” Michelle felt her stomach roll over. She had been to busy with her own troubles that she had barely even paused to think about her vow, about the weight he carried. Feeling guilt bubble in her chest, she remained silent and just listened. “I’ve killed before,” he continued slowly. “But never so intimately. I’ve never been close enough to see his eyes as I shot him.” His voice wavered, but he swallowed and kept going. “I killed to save my prince, but I still ended a life.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, unable to think of anything else that might even come close to repairing this damage. “I’m so sorry.” Gently, she turned his face toward her and leaned in to place a kiss on his lips. “What do you need?”

He looked at her with that way he had, like she was the only thing in the world that he wanted, that he cared about. It made her heart turn over in her chest. “Stay,” he said.

An aching, gaping hole bloomed in her chest. “I can’t. You know I can’t.”

He turned away from her nodding and clenching his jaw. “Right. Of course.”

I want to, she thought. I want to, more than anything. If she said that, everything would be even more painful than they were now. She could feel hurt radiating off of David like she was standing next to a fire, but he didn’t say anything. Slowly, she pulled back from him and slid off the bed. Slipping her heels on and grabbing her jacket, she only looked back when she had reached the door. He was still sitting there, his arms wrapped around his knees, staring at the covers in front of him.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, every part of her body aching to walk back over to the bed and get in and never leave.

David didn’t look up, and she shut the door.

Fic: Maybe I'm Amazed (at the way you help me sing my song) - Glee

Sat, 13 Jun 2009 18:18:39 GMT

Title: Maybe I'm Amazed (at the way you help me sing my song)
Words: 2,431
Summary: Finn's thoughts on Rachel, culminating in an eventful Halloween party.
Spoliers: General.
Disclaimer: If I owned Glee, it would be on now instead of in the fall.
Rating: PG-15
Character/Pairings: Mentions of all the kids, Finn/Rachel.
Warnings: Mild sexuality.
Author’s Notes: My first Glee fic! Kind of rambly and not very well planned/organized.
Also, about Rachel's Halloween costume...I couldn't resist. Sorry. XD
PS. Anyone who gets the tiny HIMYM reference is going to be my best friend.
Not sure I'm happy with this at all. Feedback is oh-so-welcome!

Maybe I'm Amazed (at the way you help me sing my song)

All he knew about Rachel Berry was that she made him completely and utterly nervous. Like, hair-standing-up-on-the-back-of-your-neck, just-stepped-backward-off-the-curb kind of nervous. The kind of nervous that made him simultaneously want to laugh and run for the hills.

She was very…direct. Not always honest (he felt like she hid a lot of things from everyone), but brutally direct. Like that time she’d confronted him in the hallway and told him that sometimes things mattered more than your reputation. But anyway, she made him nervous. Unsettled. Tense, like he didn’t quite know how to act around her. Also, she was tiny. People that much shorter than him always made him nervous, though he didn’t have any clue why.

The only time that changed was when they were singing.

When Rachel Berry sang, she did it with everything she had. To her, singing was like using his muscles was to him. She worked her entire body pushing sound from her lungs, and her voice could easily fill an auditorium. To be honest, her voice made little shivers run down his spine. Not that he’d ever admit that to anyone.

When Rachel Berry was belting her heart out, she wasn’t the girl that made him feel like there was no ground underneath his feet. He wasn’t incredibly intimidated by her, unsettled, nervous, anything. He just wanted to sing his heart out with her.

When she sang, there was no one else on the planet but Rachel Berry.

--

“Finn, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Quinn’s tone of voice told him on no uncertain grounds that she was pissed off. “Every day after school?”

“Except Fridays,” he replies, somewhat sheepishly. His girlfriend was staring at him in disbelief, blonde hair pulled back in a flawless ponytail. It was one of the rare times she was actually out of her cheerleading uniform, but in a jean mini skirt and Abercrombie polo, she was still just as intense.

“Finn – “

“Hey, it’s just for Spanish credit!” he said in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “If I fail Spanish, then I can’t play football anymore. If I don’t play football, then I probably won’t get into college.”

She pouted angrily. “College isn’t everything, you know.” That gave him a serious pause and he stared back at her just as disbelievingly, but she kept going. “Couldn’t you get a tutor or something? Anything other than that…Glee club.” The loathing in her voice was almost amusing.

“Finn, are you coming?” Rachel Berry breezed past them, barely looking over her shoulder as she just kept walking. Looking at the clock, Finn saw that it was almost 3. Biting back his happiness, he shrugged guiltily at Quinn.

“Sorry, but this was the deal I worked out with Mr. Schu.” Leaning down, he lightly kissed her cheek. She just frowned at him. “Gotta run. Rehearsal!” With a smile, he turned and jogged after Rachel.

He caught her just as she reached the doors into the auditorium. “Hey.” She just looked up at him with raised eyebrows.

“Trouble with your girlfriend?” Her pointed voice made him think back to that time they stood in line at Carmel High School, and he glanced sideways at her.

“Uh, sort of. Rehearsal Time is cutting in to Girlfriend Time.” Unless he was crazy, he could have sworn he just saw her smile a tiny bit. “Do we have anything planned for this Saturday?”

Rachel turned as they were walking down the theatre steps and raised her eyebrows sharply. “What?” Her cheeks went rosy.

“It’s just that Quinn wanted me to go with her to some…convention, prayer…thing, and I was wondering if we had rehearsal or something.”

“Oh.” Was that disappointment in her voice? “No, I don’t think we have anything planned.”

“Okay. Um, good. If Quinn broke up with me because of Glee, I’d be forced to commit social suicide.” He laughed to make it a joke, but Rachel just gave him a dark look that made him shut up pretty quickly.

“Finn, you can’t keep letting other people dictate what you do with your life. It’s you life. You should do what makes you happy.” They reached the stage but stopped just short of it. Mercedes and Kurt were bickering about something and Artie was attempting to mediate, but they were just far enough away that they couldn’t quite hear what it was about.

“I am doing what makes me happy,” he said with a little smile, climbing on to the stage and turning to offer her a hand up.

She almost looked surprised, but it morphed into a smile as she took his hand.

--

Finn didn’t know why he was so nice to her. Whoa – that came out wrong. Of course he would never actually be intentionally mean to, but he doesn’t technically have to be as friendly with her as he is.

‘Cause really, there’s no reason for him to save her a seat in AP Bio, or to save her the apple his mom gives him every morning that he never eats. He knows she likes apples, and it’s not like he was going to eat it anyway.

But in all honesty, she’s a little bit crazy. And really intense. Her life is Glee Club and finding each step on the path to fame, and somehow he gets the feeling that she’s putting everything else on hold till she gets wherever she wants to get. She doesn’t quite understand normal, social situations sometimes. But instead of finding it awkward or obnoxious, Finn kinds of thinks it’s funny. And cute. But just secretly.

--

“Rach, what are you doing this weekend?”

She didn’t even look up from where she’s sitting in the library scribbling notes in careful, round handwriting. “My MySpace schedule keeps me very busy, you know.”

He bit back a chuckle and raised his eyebrows at her. She continued to ignore him. “Rachel Berry, do you know what this weekend is?”

That got her attention. She looked up at him with a challenging gleam in her eyes. “No, Finn, I really forgot that this weekend is Halloween. That this weekend is just yet another weekend when the entire school gets to cheerfully not invite me to any of their parties.” Before he could respond, she forcefully gathered her things and turned to leave. He opened his mouth to call after her, but the librarian had already read his mind and was glaring at him ferociously.

So he rushed after her and managed to catch up just outside the door. In his hurry, he’d left his jacket somewhere and he shivered at the chill in the air. “That was kind of my point, actually.” She muttered something aggressively under her breath and he paused. “Okay, that sounded kind of bad. What I meant was that there is someone who wants to invite you to a Halloween party.”

At this, she couldn’t help but stop. He almost ran into her and was about to tease her about it until he saw the disbelieving look in her eyes.

“Is this a joke?” she says softly.

“No, of course not! Why would – never mind. Come to this party.” He stuck his hands in his pockets.

Warily, she studied him. “Who’s throwing it?”

“Puck,” he answered.

Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh, so you want me to get gang-banged?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “What goes on in your brain, Rachel Berry? You won’t get ‘gang-banged’. I’ll be there. I’ll protect you.” He had no idea what made him throw in that last bit.

Again, she studied him, something like hope blooming on her face. Finally, she beamed at him. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he repeated, grinning and not knowing quite why he was so happy.

She tugged at the sleeves of her cardigan and nodded, her cheeks glowing. “Yeah.”

--

Finn had one really weird dream about Rachel. Well, okay, fine, more than one. More like…five. But anyway, the first one centered around her dressed in a tiny, fluttery skirt, knee-high socks, a shirt that showed her stomach and…roller skates.

He didn’t (often) think about what occurred during that dream.

Lie. He thought about it a lot.

Maybe it was because he couldn’t do anything with Quinn, but all of his (substantial…I mean, he was a teenage boy after all) sexual frustration finds an outlet in one Rachel Berry. Maybe it’s the height difference he finds intriguing. Maybe it’s her dark hair, or her constant attire of straight-as-an-arrow button-up blouses and sweaters, or how she lets loose when she sings.

Whatever it is, it makes it hard to concentrate during Glee Club. Or Biology. Or any time, really.

--

“Finn!”

Hearing her shout over the throbbing bass, Finn turned and found himself looking over her head. He immediately looked down and hoped she hadn’t noticed. As soon as he realized it was Rachel, his eyes nearly bugged out of his head. She was wearing some tiny white thing that sort of looked like a nightgown, and black thigh-high stockings and heels. Her hair was wild and wavy around her shoulders.

She gave him a funny look. “What are you supposed to be?”

“Uh,” he stammered. “Um…Robin Hood.” Calm down, Hudson. “It was Quinn’s idea. She’s Maid Marian.” That look flickered over Rachel’s face again, like she was disappointed. “Who are you?”

The look shifted from disappointment to complete disbelief. “Wendla? From Spring Awakening?” At his blank look, she rolled her eyes. “You are so uncultured. I’m going to have to teach you how to live.”

He bit back laughter. “Nah, Rach, tonight is about me teaching you how to live.” He grabbed her arm and dragged her deep into the party, threading through people who gave them surprised or disapproving glances. Finn really didn’t care at the moment. She might have been complaining, but he couldn’t hear her over the pounding music.

It took him nearly five minutes to convince her to drink the vodka and cranberry juice he had poured into a red plastic cup. But, after much cajoling, she took a sip. Her eyes widened and at his urging, she took a big gulp.

An hour later and halfway through her second game of beer pong, Rachel laughingly spilled beer on her fluttery white nightgown. She thought it was hysterical, but Finn decided that if he wanted to live once she sobered up, he should help her clean the stain. They found an upstairs bathroom that was deserted (the one downstairs was…occupied) and locked the door as they went in.

“Rach, god, hold still,” said Finn with a laugh. If she was hysterical, he was pretty close. Everything that girl did was hilarious. At that moment, she tried to sit on the edge of the bathtub and proceeded to slip backwards into it.

“Ow!” she said, still laughing.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concerned but still grinning. “I got a washcloth for your thing.”

“My what?” she said, scandalized, her eyes huge.

He snorted. “Your nightgown.” Her mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as he leaned over her to try and wipe at the brown stain on the skirt of her nightgown. It had ridden up her thigh, revealing more of her lacy black stockings.

A hitch in Rachel’s breath made him realize just how close they were. She was still sitting half in the tub and he was leaning over her, between her legs, just a few inches from her face. From her lips, which were parted and slightly wet. He swallowed.

Suddenly she reached up and grabbed his head, forcing his lips down onto hers. He sort of fell on top of her, his knee banging into the ceramic tub, his wrist taking the impact of his fall.

He didn’t mind.

Her lips were hot on his, a little wet and very demanding. With one hand on the back of his neck, the other ran up and down his arm, feeling the muscles through his stupidly tight green Robin Hood shirt-tunic-thing. She was making this noise in the back of her throat that made every hair on his body stand up.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Finn was thinking very hard about Quinn and the word ‘girlfriend’ and morals, but the rest of his mind was focused completely and utterly on the girl beneath him, splayed out in a bathtub. He kissed her back with everything he had in him, supporting his weight on one hand while the other came up to tangle in her dark hair.

They broke apart, gasping, and Finn tried to swallow but his mouth was too dry. Rachel was looking up at him with huge dark eyes, something like awe on her face. Or at least surprise.

“Wow,” she said faintly, not moving from her place in the bathtub. Somewhat (really) awkwardly, Finn stood and offered his hand to her. She took it after a beat and let him pull her out. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say to her.

Luckily, she was Rachel Berry and nothing if not direct.

She took a step to him, stood on her toes and pulled his face down to hers again. It was a much simpler kiss (lie), just her lips pressing against his, still a little wet, but then she let him go. He straightened in a daze.

“Um…” he began, but then realized he didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry? I have a girlfriend and you know that? Those were probably the two best kisses I’ve ever had? Somehow he didn’t think any of those would work.

Rachel just smiled at him, a playful gleam in her eyes. “Drive me home?”

“Uh, well, I’ve had a couple drinks, so maybe in a little…”

“Ah. Right.”

That sparkle in her eye drew him to her like a moth to a flame. He blinked and tried to remember what Quinn looked like, but his brain was working to sluggishly. All he wanted to do was kiss her.

Rachel Berry smiled and his world shrunk to just her. “Let’s go back to the party, Finn.” She said it in a final sort of way, like she wasn’t expecting anything more of him at the moment (which was good, because although he wanted her more than he’d wanted anything in his life, he honestly wasn’t the kind of guy to cheat on his girlfriend), but that she had more planned for him in the future.

Finn smiled and took her hand.

Fic: Chuck vs. The Booze

Thu, 21 May 2009 21:37:15 GMT

Title: Chuck vs. The Booze
Words: 2,894
Summary: Sarah decides Chuck needs a break from spying. Thus ensues a game of Kings in Casa Bartowski!
Spoliers: None. Set general season two.
Disclaimer: If Chuck were mine, season 3 would be airing RIGHT NOW.
Rating: Light R, to be safe.
Character/Pairings: Chuck/Sarah, The Awesomes, Morgan and Anna.
Warnings: Mild sexuality.
Author’s Notes: I am very well aware that there are many, many different ways to play Kings. This is just the way I usually play, so please don’t comment saying “I play it THIS way!” because this is just my version.

I actually wrote this about a month ago, but then I had finals and all that end of the year crap like packing up my entire room and putting it into storage etc etc whine whine whine. Anyway, I decided to wait until everyone might need a little Chuck fix! I have a couple other fics I'm holding on to just because it's going to be a looong wait until we get more Chuck. Enjoy! :)

Chuck vs. The Booze

“I don’t…understand what’s happening,” said Chuck haplessly as he was dragged out of his room and out into the living room by one Sarah Walker. She was always stronger than he remembered her being.

“You need a night off,” she hissed in his ear. “And so do I. So we’re going to have some fun tonight.” There was a smile in her voice, behind the solid layer of determination.

“Have some – what?” But then they were in the living room, and Chuck saw what she had planned. Ellie, Awesome, Morgan and Anna were all sitting around the coffee table. On the coffee table were four large bottles of various alcohols, a line of glasses and a pack of cards. “So…basically we’re going to get trashed?”

“Yeah, basically,” said Sarah with a playful grin, prancing past him. She actually did walk in a way that verged on prancing – oh, Chuck was so confused.

“Chuck!” yelled Morgan. “My man! Come join in the fun, we’re about to start.”

“Start what?” said Chuck apprehensively.

“Kings!” said Ellie, grinning mischievously. “I’m taking some time off from stressing about the wedding, and Sarah said you needed to unwind too. Come on!”

“O…kay.” He settled in a chair, Sarah perching on the arm, her elbow resting on his shoulder. He quirked an eyebrow up at her and she smirked back at him.

“Now, we all know the rules, right?” said Awesome. “Two is – “

“Oh, we know the rules,” said Anna challengingly, running her hand up Morgan’s back. “Let’s get going.”

“Alright,” said Awesome appreciatively, stretching the word out. “What’ll we all be having?” They all chose various mixed drinks and filled their cups almost to the brim. Sarah was actually laughing as Morgan poured hers – which was risky in the first place, as Morgan was especially generous when it came to drinks – and Chuck couldn’t help but join in.

Awesome set up the ring of cards and turned to Ellie. “You first, babe.” With a little laugh of anticipation, Ellie drew a card from the face-down ring.

“Four,” she read out. “Whores!” Chuck watched as Ellie, Sarah and Anna all took big swigs of their drinks. Morgan egged Anna on until she smacked him.

“Morgan, your turn!” said Awesome. Morgan took his time dramatically choosing a card out of the ring.

“Seven…what’s seven again?” he asked.

“Rulemaster!” said Anna gleefully. “You choose a rule that we all have to follow for the rest of the night. If we break the rule, we have to drink.”

Morgan grinned. “Sweet! Um…ooh, what should I pick?” He drummed his fingers together and looked evilly around at all of them. “How’s this? No swearing.”

“Dude!” said Awesome loudly. “That sucks! You know it’s impossible not to swear when you’re drunk.”

“Sorry, Devon, but I am the Rulemaster.” Morgan shrugged in a completely unapologetic way. “And I saw that there’s no swearing for the rest of the game.” After much loud complaining, the game continued.

Anna picked her card. “Eight. Eight is Mate, right?” She looked around the circle with narrowed eyes. “I choose…Ellie! So Ellie, whenever I drink for the rest of the night, you have to too.” A challenging gleam in her eye, she lifted her drink. With a groan, Ellie matched her.

Sarah was next, and she drew a two. “What’s two again? You?” When Awesome nodded, Sarah grinned and pointed at Chuck. “You. Drink.” Tilting his head in acceptance to her challenge, Chuck took a big gulp of his drink. Wow, he had put a lot of alcohol in that…oh, it was his turn.

“Nine. Rhyme! Um…if I say orange, do you all have to drink?” Sarah nudged him hard with her arm and he grinned. “Okay, fine.” He paused. “Spy.” For her part, Sarah didn’t even flinch when he said it. They went around the circle thinking things that rhymed with ‘spy’, Morgan nearly starting drooling when Ellie said ‘pie’ until Anna hit him again. Then Sarah adorably fumbled and couldn’t think of anything else and had to drink. Chuck gave her an amused glance and she rolled her eyes.

Awesome continued the round by drawing a ten and making them all list things in the category of “dangerous sports”. Anna accidentally swore while talking about some type of martial arts she did and had to drink, and so Ellie had to drink as well. The entire group cheered them on. Chuck’s cheeks kind of hurt from laughing – he hadn’t felt this carefree and happy in a long time. It didn’t hurt that Sarah had a hand at the back of his neck and was playing with his curly hair.

He was beginning to feel warm and fuzzy, like his brain was floating somewhere outside of his body. Sarah was right; this was just what he needed. Right now there was no Intersect, no spy missions, no Casey, not cover relationship. Chuck closed his eyes and pretended that Sarah was really his girlfriend.

Then, Ellie drew a five. There were various reactions ranging from groans to excited giggles, they all stuck out five fingers, except Sarah. “Wait, what’s Five Fingers?”

“Never Have I Ever,” said Ellie in mock astonishment. “You’re never played it?” Sarah shook her head sheepishly. “Well, this ought to be fun. So, basically, I say that I’ve never done something, and anyone who has done that thing has to put a finger down and drink.” It started out fairly harmlessly, but the questions got more brutal. Then, Ellie asked the question that would change the night.

“I’ve never…kissed a girl.” She raised her eyebrows and looked around the circle…as everyone else drank. Chuck nearly spat out his drink.

“Sarah? You’ve – oh, good God.” Sarah shrugged, a little pink tinting her cheeks.

“Hey, I did go to college at one point.” Chuck shook his head. Now he was never going to be able to think of anything other than Sarah and some other girl doing…things. Ellie was cracking up over on the couch next to a stunned looking Awesome.

“Anna?” said Awesome impressed. “You’ve kissed a girl?”

“And I liked it,” replied Anna with a smug look on her face. Morgan just looked incredibly proud.

“I can’t believe it!” said Ellie. “I totally just asked that question to get all the boys to drink, but Sarah and Anna? Wow, now I feel left out.” She pouted a little and Awesome’s eyebrows nearly rocketed off his face.

“You want…Ellie, I’m sure I can figure – “ Before Awesome could propose whatever sordid situation he was thinking of, Sarah stood up, walked over to Ellie, leaned down and kissed her – lightly, chastely – on the mouth. Chuck’s jaw dropped and Awesome and Morgan cheered.

“Oh God, that is SO not right!” said Chuck, covering his eyes. “My girlfriend did not just kiss my sister.” Sarah sat back down next to him after a shared laugh with Ellie, her cheeks more than a little red.

“Feel free to continue!” said Awesome enthusiastically. Ellie couldn’t stop laughing – she didn’t hold her booze very well – and Sarah just sat next to Chuck with rosy cheeks and a pleased look on her face.

“That was just unfair,” said Chuck, unable to keep the silly grin off his face. “If you’re going to kiss a girl, couldn’t it be someone I can actually fantasize about?” Sarah giggled – actually giggled – and almost fell off the chair.

“I’ll make sure to keep that in mind the next time I go around kissing girls,” she said jokingly, swaying again. Chuck wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Whoa there, how much have you had to drink?” He glanced at her cup and saw it was almost empty. “Wow! You can’t say ‘no’ to a challenge, can you?” She elbowed him.

“I want to have fun tonight. I don’t want to think about anything other than just being here.” She was too tipsy to hide the emotion behind her words, and Chuck could clearly hear how wistful she was. He squeezed her a little and she smiled.

The rest of the game was somewhat of a blur after that. Chuck knew that there was lots of friendly (ish) competition between Ellie and Anna with their drinking partnership, Awesome was the king of Questionmaster, Chuck almost choked while doing a Waterfall and then proceeded to laugh his ass off when Sarah was challenged to an Ace to the Face. Throughout the whole thing, Sarah and Chuck kept getting closer and closer, until she was practically in his lap. They kept physical contact through the whole game too, pressing their sides together or running their fingers across arms or shoulders or open gaps of skin. Chuck’s evening was beginning to shrink to the single awareness that Sarah Walker was sitting next to him.

After Morgan nearly broke his finger doing Thumbs and Anna was getting crankier at Ellie the more she drank, they decided to end the evening. Morgan and Anna caught a cab home, and Ellie and Awesome quickly disappeared into their room. Chuck tried to clean up the living room a little bit and was carrying two bottles of tequila into the kitchen when Sarah stopped him.

“Chuck, tonight’s a night off. Be responsible tomorrow.” She stood in front of him in a fairly simply tank top and jeans, her hair hanging around her shoulders, and Chuck had to swallow back his intense want for her.

“What if I can’t help it?” he said, not quite sure what he was talking about anymore. The world seemed awfully...tilty.

Suddenly she was right by his side, her breath warm on his neck. “Be responsible tomorrow,” she whispered. He turned, and couldn’t help but kiss her.

If there was one thing to be said about Sarah Walker when she was drunk, it was that she took the dive with no hesitation whatsoever. Chuck had given into the temptation of her mouth thinking that she would pull away quickly, but instead she opened her mouth and reached up to hold his face to hers in an iron grip.

Chuck made a deep noise of surprise and amazement, gripping her hip and kissing her back for all he was worth. He tugged on her bottom lip and she tangled her tongue with his aggressively. Somehow she was pressed between him and the counter, her hands moving restlessly over his chest and around to his back, and Chuck was more forward with his own hands than he ever would have been sober. She felt like heaven to his touch, her lithe form almost solid muscle, but surprisingly soft. The simple feeling of having her arch into him, using the counter as a brace, was enough to send him practically into oblivion. When she somehow hopped up onto the counter without separating their mouths and wrapped her legs tightly around his hips, he just about died.

Everything felt like a daze, like the sort of dream he had become used to having – never about any other girl, just Sarah, always Sarah – and he couldn’t quite keep track of what was going on through the haze of alcohol in his brain. She was making these noises, he was kissing her neck, she was pressing her hips sharply into his, his hands were under her shirt and on the warm skin of her back…

“Whoa, sorry dude.”

Chuck broke away from Sarah slowly, the sound of Awesome’s voice not quite making it through the deep pool his brain was currently entrenched in. Turning, he saw Awesome standing in the hallway, holding a box in his hands. Chuck gave him a questioning look, still very aware that Sarah’s legs were wrapped like glue around him and his hand was up her shirt. “Sorry, bro. Just needed more, you know,” he held up the box – of condoms – and shook it.

“God, Devon, I really didn’t need to know that,” Chuck said, hanging his head until it rested on Sarah’s shoulder. He felt her shaking a little and taking deep breaths.

“Right. Sorry.” Devon left very quickly after that.

Slowly, Chuck lifted his head and slipped his hand out of her shirt, immediately regretting the loss of her warm skin. He felt her loosen the grip of her legs and stepped backwards, swallowing hard and trying to get his body and mind under control.

“Um…”

“Don’t say ‘sorry’,” she said quietly, slipping down from the counter. Absently, she tried to smooth her hair – that Chuck was amazed to see he had completely mussed – and licked her lips. Chucked followed every motion of her body without thinking about it. Had he really just been making out with Sarah Walker in his kitchen?

“I wasn’t going to,” he said just as quietly. Now he was regretting everything he had had to drink, because he was having some serious trouble thinking of anything even mildly intelligent to say.

“I should go,” she said slowly, but didn’t turn to leave.

“Stay, Sarah. You can’t drive right now.”

“I’ll get a cab, like Anna and Morgan.”

“Sarah,” he said plaintively. “Just stay, okay? I’m not going to try and jump you during the night, I promise.” Although that would be a promise he was willing to break. Chuck mentally berated himself for the thought.

For a moment she frowned adorably. “Why not?” As Chuck was raising his eyebrows, she covered her eyes with her hand. “Ugh, I’m sorry. I haven’t had that much to drink in a long, long time and apparently I can’t handle it as well as I used to.” She sighed deeply and looked up at him. “I should go.”

“Just stay the night,” he continued to push gently.

They looked at each other, and after a minute Sarah gave a little smile and nodded. “Alright.”

Five minutes later, they were crawling slowly into Chuck’s bed, taking ibuprofen, and setting huge glasses of water on the bedside tables.

“Goodnight, Sarah,” Chuck said as he closed his eyes on the spinning ceiling.

“Night,” he heard her whisper before everything went dark.

--

The morning came with a thunderous pounding in his head and a feeling like his throat had turned into the Sahara. Moaning and grumbling, Chuck struggled to sit up and drain his glass of water. Sarah was still passed out beside him, sprawled half under the covers, wearing a t-shirt of his. Even though the sunlight coming in through the window felt like daggers, Chuck couldn’t help but smile.

As he sat and watched her, she stirred, the shirt riding up on her back.

“Sarah?” he said quietly, to test if she was awake.

“Yeah?” came her groggy voice, smooshed against the pillow. She moved a little and rolled off her stomach, squinting up at him. “Oh God.”

Chuck smiled. “Yeah, I know.”

Sitting up, Sarah ran a hand over her face. Her mascara was smeared and her hair was sticking up all over the place, and she looked grumpy as all hell. Reaching for her glass of water, she chugged it before looking back at Chuck.

“Okay, so I’m never drinking again,” she said with a wry smile. He laughed a little, but then silence descended over them and he lost his smile. “So…last night,” said Sarah lightly.

“You want some coffee and breakfast?” he asked. Not in a let’s-change-the-conversation-and-pretend-this-never-happened kind of way, but in a let’s-be-okay-with-this kind of way. Sarah studied him for a moment before smiling.

“Throw in some bacon and I’m all yours.” With his trademark grin, Chuck hopped off the bed – wincing as his head throbbed – and went into the kitchen to start cooking. Ellie and Awesome were still asleep, but Sarah padded out behind him in tiny shorts and his shirt and sat on the kitchen counter. Chuck tried desperately not to think of the last time she had been on that counter.

“How’s your head?” she asked.

“Not great, but I have a feeling that some salty eggs and bacon might fix things.”

She grinned. “That, and about five million glasses of water,” he said jokingly. They laughed together as Chuck started cooking. Halfway through scrambling the eggs, Chuck glanced over at her. She was perched and watching him, her hair still a complete mess, and she smiled when she saw him looking.

“Thanks for last night,” he said quietly. “I really needed that.” Whether he meant the drinking game or the make-out session, he didn’t say. After a thoughtful pause, she nodded and smiled softly.

“You’re welcome. I needed that too.” He wasn’t quite sure which part of the night she meant, but he still smiled and handed her a plate.

“Bacon’s on its way. Want the eggs while they’re hot?”

“Yeah! Thanks.”

As he went about making the bacon, he watched her wolf down the eggs in about five seconds and almost laughed. Things were okay, then. Things were…more than okay. Catching him looking at her again, she grinned sheepishly around a large mouthful. He laughed. Yeah, things were good.

Home again, home again, jiggity jig!

Tue, 19 May 2009 14:52:20 GMT

I FLY HOME TODAY.

:DDDDDDDDD

Basically done with finals, with the exception of one take-home that is utterly stumping me (fuckfuckfuckfuck). Anyway, I'll be home for ten-ish days and then off to Washington DC for my internship for the rest of the summer. Woo!!! Hopefully I'll be able to write some fic while I'm home. :)

HOLY MOTHER OF GOD.

Sat, 09 May 2009 04:33:43 GMT

STAR TREK.

THE MOST EPIC THING YOU'VE EVER SEEN?

Y/Y

ANSWER BELOW.

I cried, I laughed, I flinched, I cheered, I did some freaking fist pumps.....so unbelievably awesome.

Oh my god.

Fic: Easy Silence

Mon, 04 May 2009 18:51:43 GMT

Title: Easy Silence
Words: 452
Summary: Sarah is used to being quiet, but for completely different reasons.
Spoliers: None. Set general season one.
Disclaimer: If Chuck were mine, there would be NO QUESTION of whether or not there will be a third season!!!
Rating: PG
Character/Pairings: Chuck/Sarah
Warnings: None.
Author’s Notes: Just something that popped into my mind while listening to Easy Silence by the Dixie Chicks. :)

Easy Silence

Sarah Walker knew what silence felt like. She’d been completely still and silent for over nine hours once, crouching in a cramped ventilation shaft hiding from a Pakistani terrorist group. She was accustomed to making herself appreciate quiet, because at least it meant you weren’t getting shot at.

Now, silence had a different meaning. This mission was often more dangerous than she had anticipated it would be, but there was a lot of down time in which she had to try her best to seem normal. That, of course, meant spending a lot of time with Chuck and just…hanging out. Hanging out wasn’t really something she was familiar with.

At first, she’d honestly thought Chuck was…well, he was a nice guy. He wasn’t someone she would have checked out too much on the street, but she liked his curly brown hair and unashamed show of emotion. And his smile. She really, really liked his smile. She’d thought that either there was no way in hell he was an agent, or he was the best agent she had ever seen.

After spending long hours just hanging out with him, her antsy-ness started to fade. She stopped checking the exits every five minutes, stopped flitting her hand over her ankle holster of knives, stopped watching Chuck closely to see if he flashed. She started to look at him just because she wanted to, just because he was nice to look at and because she liked talking to him.

At first, it made her feel uneasy, because she didn’t like feeling that she had lost her touch, or that she was doing her job badly. But, as Chuck often reminded her, her job was to protect him…from everything. Sometimes that just meant being around him and enjoying his company. Which she did.

Being quiet never came easier to her than when she and Chuck were curled up together on the couch, watching a movie or just fake-cuddling because Ellie and Awesome were around. There were times when she just let herself be quiet, happily leaning against Chuck’s warm, lanky body and listening to him bicker with his sister, or tell her a story about him and Morgan when they were eleven, or try to convince Awesome that he really didn’t need to go sky diving.

Those were times she felt like she didn’t have to prove herself to anyone as his girlfriend, because she just was his girlfriend. In those moments, anyway. Later, it was business as usual and she didn’t let herself think like that, but in those moments Casey or the federal government or the Intersect didn’t even enter her mind.

Her mind went quiet, and oh did it feel good.

Yay for pumping out short fics instead of writing the long ass papers one must write for finals.
*dies*

"Chuck me."

Tue, 28 Apr 2009 02:03:14 GMT

.........................

............................

................................

IF THERE ISN'T A THIRD SEASON I WILL HUNT DOWN EVERY NBC EXEC AND......WELL, I DON'T KNOW WHAT, BUT THERE WILL BE SUFFERING.

OH MY GGGGGGOOOOOODDDDDDDDD.

ISHJ{FOUdhfpIYGDHPO:I"JSDHOT&EUSJLhdfosuzegfl!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Fic: Chuck vs. The Happily Ever After

Fri, 24 Apr 2009 03:57:48 GMT

Title: Chuck vs. The Happily Ever After
Words: 1,536
Summary: Chuck and Sarah talk. Among other things.
Spoliers: Through 2x21.
Disclaimer: Not mine!!
Rating: Light R? Nothing explicit.
Character/Pairings: Chuck/Sarah, Ellie
Warnings: Mild sexuality.
Author’s Notes: BECAUSE WE ALL KNOW WHAT HAPPENED AFTER THEY GOT HOME FROM THE REHEARSAL DINNER. Well, okay, fine. I admit that this is speculation. EXCEPT IT TOTALLY ISN'T.

Chuck vs. The Happily Ever After

Sarah rose to awareness slowly, blinking and taking a deep breath before fully opening her eyes. The room was warm and full of sun, streaming in through the window and onto Chuck’s bed. Slowly, she rolled over, pushing the covers off of her and stretching a little. In just a tank top and boy short underwear, her skin felt sun-soaked and warm. It felt even better when her skin brushed his.

With a smile, Sarah looked at Chuck as he slept, on his side and facing her. She took advantage of the moment and looked him over, admiring his bare chest and wildly curly hair. Feeling her smile stretch into a grin, she scooted across the sheets until she was right next to him, her nose an inch from his. She let him sleep, and let herself have a moment to remember the previous night.

After the rehearsal dinner, she had gone home with Chuck without a word. They stayed silent the whole drive home, because there was no question of what was going to happen once they got there.

The rest, Sarah remembered like what she imagined an Intersect flash might be like – flashes of his brilliant smile, the feel of slick skin on skin, the noises he made that resonated deep in his chest, the way he touched her with such reverence that it made her want to cry. Jumbled thoughts and feelings and the realization that she wanted him so much it hurt. Gently, she reached out and brushed a dark curl back from his forehead.

This was bad. Really, really bad. Bad in that, now that he had the Intersect out of his head, she was about to he reassigned and removed from his life faster than he (or she) could protest. It made her chest ache – the thought of being anywhere away from Chuck made her want to curl up in a ball and have him hold her for as long as he would let her stay there.

As she lay there in the warm morning sun, gazing at his face, Sarah found herself wanting nothing more than to stay here for the rest of her life. It was a feeling she’d grown more accustomed to having lately, but it still surprised her a little. Since when did she, Sarah Walker: Super Spy, want a normal life with a boyfriend, a job that didn’t involve shooting people, kids? Since when was she vulnerable like this?

Since Chuck Bartowski.

Sarah breathed out a small sigh that blew over his face and stirred his hair. She instantly felt guilty – did she have morning breath? – as he started to wake up. A smile curled her lips upward as she watching him adorably try to fight against awareness. There were perks to vulnerability.

Frowning a little, he blinked sleepily. When his eyes adjusted and he saw her not an inch from him, the frown stretched into a smile. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she replied softly, instantly remembering how those lips had felt on her last night. Her cheeks warm with pleasure, she moved a tiny bit towards him. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” His voice was deep and a little rough from sleep, and Sarah wanted to wake up like this every morning. “How’d you sleep?”

She smiled and hummed happily. “Very well. You?”

“The same.” Their eyes met and he reached up to brush her hair back. Lifting herself up ever so slightly on one shoulder, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. It was liberating to be able to do this not as a cover but just because she wanted to. And oh did she want to.

He made that noise in the back of his throat that made her skin ripple with goosebumps and slid his fingers through her hair to cup the back of her head. She slid on top of him, relishing the feel of his skin, the hair on his chest, the surprisingly strong muscles of his arms as they slid around her.

Suddenly he pulled back. “Oh God, I should go brush my teeth first.” Sarah nearly burst out laughing as his thoughts mirrored her earlier ones.

“Uh uh,” she said, tugging at his bottom lip. “You’re not going anywhere right now.”

He didn’t protest too much, and instead went back to kissing her thoroughly and stroking the small of her back where her tank top had ridden up. “What happened to ‘one mission at a time’? Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

She grinned against his mouth. “I’m good at multitasking.” His deep chuckle resonated through her and she shivered.

“I’ll say.” His hands ran up her back until he was eventually tugging her shirt up and over her head before tossing it somewhere across the room. Sarah couldn’t help but grin. Being with someone had never made her feel this happy. She had felt other things of course – passion, lust, anger, sorrow – but never the pure happiness that was flooding her body right now.

After a long moment of drinking in each other in the warm cocoon of his bed, Chuck rolled so that he was on top of her, her legs gripping his hips tightly. They struggled momentarily to get rid of their last articles of clothing before Chuck tugged on her earlobe gently with his teeth. She shuddered. “The cameras are off since you’re here, right? Casey’s not creepily watching this?” he whispered hotly in her ear.

She laughed. “A little late to be worrying about that, isn’t it?” Her laughter was lost, however, as he pinned her to the bed and sucked on a spot on her neck that left her speechless. Involuntarily, her hips jerked up into his. He released a breath in a sharp hiss.

Her lips found his again and she kissed him with all she was worth, gripping his curly hair in her hands. “Chuck,” she said with embarrassing neediness in her voice. He said her name breathlessly and the morning dissolved into a haze of warm, sleepy passion.

--

“So, what happens now?” Chuck asked some time later, lying on his back and attempting to catch his breath.

“We go back to sleep,” Sarah said happily, turning to curl into his side. He wrapped his arm around her and held her to him.

“I mean about…us.” Sarah looked up into his serious brown eyes. “Now that the Intersect is gone, aren’t you…aren’t you going to be reassigned or something?” He said the words like he didn’t want to say them at all, and Sarah had to look away, choosing instead to gaze at a freckle on his left shoulder. “That’s what happens, right?”

Slowly, and still avoiding his gaze, Sarah nodded. “Technically, yes.”

He went still beneath her. “Technically?” She made no move to answer him, so he took her chin in his hand and made her look at him. “What does that mean?”

She took his hand in hers, freeing her chin, and tangled her fingers through his, resting their joined hands on his chest. For what felt like a long time, she just looked at him. Her heart throbbed in her chest. “I’m…not sure I can walk away from you.”

The look in Chuck’s eyes knocked the breath out of her lungs. He was looking at her like she was the most confusing, amazing, beautiful thing he had ever seen. Nobody else looked at her like that.

He pushed himself up until their lips were crushed together, and Sarah didn’t even have time to be embarrassed by the noises of want that she was making, because Chuck was making similar ones and then she was underneath him and the world was right again.

--

When they finally dragged themselves out of bed – because they could hear Ellie in the other part of the house, frantically trying to organize everything for her wedding later that day – Sarah ducked into the bathroom for a shower. A short time later, she stepped out of the bathroom, her hair dripping onto her shoulders, only to find Chuck being chastised thoroughly by his sister.

“And you!” she was yelling. “Stop messing with my emotions today! Today of all days, just do what you’re told and don’t, I don’t know…Chuck, today is going to be perfect, isn’t it?” Her stern tone dissolved into one of worried nervousness, and as Sarah watched, Chuck enfolded his sister into his arms and hugged her tightly.

“Everything is going to be perfect, El.” Ellie melted into her brother, ducking her head into his shoulder, and Sarah couldn’t help but feel a bubble of utter happiness grow inside her chest. How had she ever come to deserve these people?

Ellie opened her eyes and saw Sarah walking out of the bathroom. “Oh! Sarah! I didn’t know you stayed over last night.” Weirdly, Sarah felt her cheeks grow warm.

“Oh, yeah, she stayed.” Chuck beamed at her. She couldn’t help but return his look. Ellie’s eyes flickered from Chuck to Sarah and back again, catching whatever was drifting in the air between them, and was suddenly sporting a beam to match her brother’s.

“Yes. Everything is going to be perfect today.”

Fic: Passing Judgment

Mon, 20 Apr 2009 01:42:38 GMT

Title: Passing Judgment
Words: 935
Summary: Set directly after the end of 'Judgment Day'
Spoliers: Through 1x05.
Disclaimer: Not mine!!
Rating: PG
Character/Pairings: David/Michelle
Warnings: None.
Author’s Notes: My first Kings fic, so be kind! Also, there isn't nearly enough David/Michelle love out there, so I'm doing my part. ;)

When Michelle left David’s room, she ashamedly wept in the car. How was it fair that she had gone through her entire life being good and demure and chaste, only to meet someone she cared about enough to throw all that away, and yet not be able to have him?

Her driver was silent, as he was paid to be, and so she sat in the back and sniffed quietly, wiping tears from her cheeks and telling herself to buck up and get over it. She’d made a promise, and she wasn’t one to break promises.

In honesty, she hadn’t even thought about it until David. None of the boys in court interested her in the slightest. Either they were full of themselves, or wasted their wealth and influence (what good was having money and power if you didn’t use it to do something good?), or partied every night with an array of girls with whom she had nothing in common.

Her mind flickered back to that damn picture of David and…what was her name again? She wasn’t going to think too hard to remember, but it still made her angry. Furious. Hugging herself, she gave herself one (long) minute to stew about David and the unnamed girl in the picture. She knew it was all a set-up, in a way. Another signal from her mother to leave David Shepherd alone. But the fact that David would…with that girl…

She was trying to be good and not think to much about him. Really, she was. Half of her very desperately wanted to be the good daughter her parents had raised because, to some extent, she was that girl. There was just this other half of her that very desperately wanted to run back to David’s apartment and stay there for at least three days. Maybe more.

It was a long time before she got to sleep that night.

--

She didn’t see David for two days after that, and each hour where she didn’t see him made her crankier and crabbier until she was snapping unnecessarily at her guards and staff. After that happened three times, she decided to go for a walk in the park to cool her head. She wouldn’t get anything done if she was angry at everything.

So, with a white coat wrapped over her dress, she walked across the square to the park. Right as she reached the trees, however, she heard a voice behind her.

“Michelle!”

She turned slowly, because she already recognized the voice. Sure enough, David was jogging across the street – nearly getting hit buy a car in the process – towards her. Shoving her hands in her pockets, she waited for him.

“What, so now we can’t even talk anymore?” he said once he caught up with her, panting a little. His tone was light, as if he wanted to make light of the situation, but there was an underlying tension. Michelle felt strangely helpless as she looked up at him.

“We can,” she replied slowly. “I just…didn’t think you’d want to.” People in the park were staring at them, obviously recognizing the princess and the hero of the realm – if her guards weren’t enough already – having a rather heated discussion. As she often did when she was around David, Michelle felt like she’d lost her footing. He didn’t quite fit into any of the neat qualifications or rules she usually used, and though it was one of the things she liked about him, it was somewhat unsettling.

“I…” David stopped and sighed. “I guess I knew that this was never going to work out between us.” He looked down and put his hands in his pockets. She wanted to touch him so badly then that she had to curl her hands into fists in her pockets. “So, who’s the lucky guy?” There was something ugly underneath his voice, and Michelle didn’t like the direction in which this was heading. “Is he some rich aristocrat who you can have a whole new generation of Benjamins with?”

Flinching slightly, it was Michelle’s turn to look down. “I can’t have children,” was her halting response.

There was an awkward pause. “Oh.” She looked up to see David running a hand over his face, sighing in frustration. “I’m sorry, Michelle. I had no right to speak like that.”

“You did, sort of,” she said. “I did lead you on for weeks. I deserve it.”

“You don’t,” he immediately replied. “You really don’t. You’re the princess, and I’m just a soldier. I don’t know where I ever saw that going.” He looked sideways, past her guards and out into the park. Michelle thought wistfully that she knew where she had seen this going…but it was obviously impossible. Firstly, she was promised to someone else, and the thought made her throat close up with a bubble of emotion. Secondly, even if she was free to marry whoever she wanted, there was very little chance that she would be allowed to marry David.

But, as he looked away and she watched him, she allowed herself to wish fervently that things were different.

“Hey,” she said, breaking him out of his daze with a soft smile. “we can still talk, can’t we? Spend time together?” Their eyes met and suddenly their halfhearted attempts at feeling normal seemed entirely hollow and it was obvious how much they both wanted things to be different. “I was just about to take a walk in the park. Join me?” she said, her voice hopeful.

With a sigh and a sad smile, he nodded. “Sure.”

Fic: Chuck vs. Imprisonment

Sat, 18 Apr 2009 05:14:46 GMT

Title: Chuck vs. Imprisonment
Words: 678
Summary: Kind of a sequel to my fic, 'Chuck vs. The Escape'.
Spoliers: Through 2x20.
Disclaimer: Not mine!!
Rating: PG
Character/Pairings: Chuck/Sarah, Casey
Warnings: None.
Author’s Notes: Random little thing I had to get out of my system! Just some fun thoughtfulness, based off of something I thought I saw in the promo.

Chuck vs. Imprisonment

Chuck sat on the cold cement floor, leaned against the wall, and contemplated the last few hours. He’d been convinced that he and Sarah would get away, get to somewhere safe, and hide until…well, he wasn’t really sure about the time period. But hey, he’d have been with her, at least.

But then, as they’d been about to get into Oregon, Casey had appeared out of nowhere. Well, Casey and a SWAT team. In a matter of seconds, Chuck and Sarah were in custody (Sarah had tried fighting her way out of it but had just ended up with a black eye and some bruised ribs) and being shipped back to the castle.

He took a deep breath in and released it, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes for a second. It was dark, anyway, so there wasn’t much to see in their cell.

They had been so close. So close to getting away, to being able to hide somewhere until they could go and find his father. Now, he and Sarah were in a cell and his father was in a Fulcrum facility. Great, though Chuck.

Sarah was sitting next to him, her shoulder warm on his, but completely silent. Her body felt relaxed, for some reason. It was like she was somehow accepting of where she had come to be. Opening his eyes, he looked over at her.

Her black eye was dull in the semi-darkness of the cell, but he had seen her lift her fingers to it earlier and knew it hurt. And this time, he didn’t have a raw hamburger to give her to ease the pain. Her eyes were closed and she almost looked like she was asleep.

“Sarah?” he said quietly.

She blinked and looked over at him. “Hm?”

“How are you feeling?” His eyes flickered down to her torso, where he could only imagine her ribs were aching.

She shrugged. “I’ve been better.”

For a bit they didn’t say anything, but Chuck felt the need to ask her something. “You seem…kind of relaxed.” She looked over at him with raised eyebrows, an amused smile curling her lips upward.

“I’m not relaxed, Chuck.”

“You know what I mean. You’re not…all tense and looking for any possible escape route.”

The smile slipped off her face and she leaned her head back again, blonde waves falling over her shoulders. Chuck sighed, thinking he had gone to far.

“I can barely remember a time in my life,” she began softly, “where I had much choice over what I did. When I was with my dad, I went along with his cons because I loved him and because he…well, he was my dad. What else was I going to do? And then, with the CIA, it gave me something to do that I was good at, but I was always following orders.”

She tilted her head towards him with a little smile. “It just feels kind of good to do something because I believe it’s the right thing to do and not because somebody told me to.” Chuck couldn’t help but return her smile. “Plus, you’re here.”

It was new for them to be completely honest with each other, and it still surprised him. A flood of pleasant warmth rushed over him and his smile grew. Returning it, Sarah reached over and tangled her fingers with his. Chuck was really liking this whole new ‘honesty’ thing.

Just then, there was a noise outside their cell and they both jerked their heads to look. Casey, without a glance their way, fumbled with some keys, unlocked the door and then yanked it open. They stared at him with wide eyes.

“What, you just gonna sit there all night?”

With a glance at each other, Chuck and Sarah stumbled to their feet and quickly followed Casey out the door.

“Casey?” hissed Sarah intensely. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You’re disobeying an order!” said Chuck in amazement. Casey glared at him in a signal to shut the hell up.

“I don’t betray my team.”

Fic: Chuck vs. The Escape

Tue, 14 Apr 2009 17:16:19 GMT

Title: Chuck vs. The Escape
Words: 2,090
Summary: Takes place almost directly after 'Chuck vs. The First Kill'.
Spoliers: Through yesterday's episode.
Disclaimer: Not mine!!
Rating: PG-15
Character/Pairings: Chuck/Sarah
Warnings: Mild sexuality but nothing at all explicit.
Author’s Notes: After all the squeeing and flailing I did near the end of last night's episode, this fic just HAD to happen. I'm ignoring a few important issues in this fic because I'm indulging in some fangirl needs. ;D

Chuck vs. The Escape

The first day after their escape is spent in the car. Chuck is definitely prone to panic during that time, worrying about Ellie and Awesome and Morgan and his father and everything, and yet he somehow enjoys the time in the tiny car, sitting next to Sarah.

She drives through the night and the next morning. Chuck tries desperately to stay awake to keep her company, but he dozes off some time near six in the morning, as the sun is peaking over the mountains to the east. She is silent for the most part, eyes on the road ahead and a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. When he wakes, not long after he fell asleep, he asks if she wants him to take over driving for a bit. She declines his offer, and he lets it slide. She’s tense, and she needs this time to think. Or so he thinks.

They stop at a no-tell motel in some tiny town he’s never heard of, and buy one room (with hour-to-hour rates) with cash. The good thing about running from the government with a trained secret agent is that they know all the ways to get around said government.

Sarah still doesn’t say anything as they go into the room. She stalks to the window and looks out it, every line of her body tense and humming with restrained energy. Nervously, her hands go to the gun tucked in the back of her pants and she checks various parts of it before returning it to its former position. Chuck sits on the corner of the bed in his Nerd Herd uniform and laments the fact that a quick get away means not being able to pack…anything.

“Thank you,” he says, finally.

She turns to look at him, her arms crossed. “What?”

“Thanks. For, you know, saving me from a life without sunlight and all that. I would have been pretty bummed.” He tries to make light of it, but falls short. Sarah looks like she’s trying to smile for a moment, but she doesn’t, and turns back towards the window. He watches her and waits, noting the rigid set of her shoulders and the feeling like she’s about to burst.

He’s right. With a frustrated sigh, Sarah turns and puts both of her hands over her forehead before sliding them back into her hair.

“I can’t believe I – we – just did that!” she exclaims, staring into space with disbelief written all over her face. “That was treason, I went against a direct order…oh my God.” Chuck feels something weird rise up in his chest. He’s never heard Sarah sound indecisive or panicked in the time that he has known her. Suddenly her eyes flicker to him. “Not that I regret it, because I don’t, I just…” she sighs again and runs both hands over her face.

“Hey,” he says gently, getting up. “Technically, you were doing your job.” She looks up, confused. “Protecting me, remember?” He taps his head and is rewarded with a tiny smile from her.

“And betraying my country,” she says softly. Again, he decides to wait. With another sigh, as if she is shedding years of weight off her shoulders, she tips forward and rests her head on his shoulder. “I don’t know what I am without the CIA.” It’s a soft admission, and he almost doesn’t catch it.

“You’re Sarah Walker,” he replies. Somehow, in all of the insanity surrounding his life at this moment in time – the government agents probably tracking them down, his family, the Intersect – this moment has a strange sense of clarity for him.

She lifts her head and smiles wryly. “I’m only Sarah Walker because of the CIA.”

He smiles in return. “You’re my Sarah Walker.”

She just looks at him then, in that startling way where she stops being Sarah Walker: Super Spy, and starts being a girl who hasn’t had a whole lot of room for kindness in her life. She looks at him like she’s never seen anything like him before, and then she kisses him.

It starts innocently enough, just lips pressed together and her hands tight on his shirt. But Sarah seems almost desperate for something more, and Chuck is only too eager to comply. After all those months and months of chaste, boring, tempting cover kisses, this kiss is like a drink of water at the end of a ten mile hike. She slides her hands up to grasp his face, keeping his mouth right on hers – not that he is even contemplating pulling away. This is Sarah Walker, after all, and he isn’t completely insane.

Her hands move then, insistently, from his curly hair to his hip to the buttons down the front of his shirt. She starts to undo them and Chuck is very inclined to think that this is a dream. He makes a noise of surprise but she isn’t stopping, and his hands somehow find their way into the pale mass of her hair and up the back of her shirt.

He feels hot all over, clumsy and desperate and more than a little like a teenager making out for the first time. It isn’t even the first time he and Sarah have kissed, but somehow it feels really different. They’re on the road together, running from Casey and the government and mostly likely life-long imprisonment, but they’re together. She sacrificed her job and potentially her freedom to keep him from being thrown in a bunker.

Chuck guesses that life-saving is something of a turn-on, because he cannot keep his hands off her.

They press every inch of themselves together, tangling arms and legs, and nearly fall over when Chuck accidentally stumbles. Sarah laughs a little, but then she’s all business again, her hands ripping off his shirt (without undoing the tie first and almost choking him, but they figure that one out pretty quickly) and tugging at his belt. And God as much as Chuck wants this to continue uninterrupted, he has to pause.

“Sarah,” he says when her mouth leaves his to target his neck. He isn’t sure that he intelligibly said her name; it sounded more like some strange animal noise that started with an ‘s’. So he tries again. “Sarah, wait.”

She looks up, eyes wide and dark, face flushed, breathing hard. Her hands are up the back of his shirt and he cannot believe that he is doing this, but he swallows and does it anyway.

“Are we…I mean, is this…is this just because we’re escaping and the adrenaline’s high and I happened to be in the right place at the right time?” Good Lord, what is he saying? He should have just shut up and taken what he was getting!

Sarah freezes, her eyes huge, her hands still distractingly warm on his skin. For what seems like the longest minute of the century (when it is, in reality, probably only a few seconds), they just stare at each other. Then Sarah takes a breath as if to steel herself and her mouth turns up a tiny bit at the corners.

“No.”

For once, Chuck doesn’t have a problem with Sarah’s lack of communication. That one word is enough. He kisses her, hard, and she responds in an instant. After another minute of heatedly scrambling to undress each other, Chuck feels his legs hit the edge of the bed and before he knows it, Sarah is on top of him. In the early morning light, her hair looks especially golden around her face as she pauses and looks down at him. Battling back the intense desire to lean up and capture her lips again, he waits.

She looks at him and a tender smile creeps across her face. He returns it, though his is more like an exuberant grin, and she leans down to kiss him again.

--

When Sarah wakes, the sun is setting and the room is bathed in reddish orange light. Taking a deep breath, she quietly lets sensation wash over her again, noting the warmth of the room, the weight of the arm that’s curling around the dip of her back, the even breathing of the man next to her.

She allows herself one moment to be a normal girl, and can’t help but grin as she turns to look at Chuck. He’s still deeply asleep, lying on his stomach, his arm around her. Her eyes run down the line of his back and she’s wildly happy that neither of them got dressed again last night. The feeling of warm skin on skin, Chuck’s warm skin on her skin, is something she could live with for the rest of her life.

The thought jars her out of her happy daydream. Gently sliding out of his loose embrace, she glances at a clock. Seven forty-five. They should get moving. Staying in one spot this long was dangerous enough, but they needed sleep. And other things.

Feeling an odd mixture of intense happiness and sadness, Sarah sits on the edge of the bed and looks at Chuck, sleeping, blissfully unaware. She must be either crazy or in love, and she’s pretty sure she knows which one it is.

“Chuck,” she says softly, leaning over to run her hand lightly down his back. He stirs almost immediately and blinks sleepily up at her. Seeing her less-than-clothed, a slow grin stretches across his face.

“You are…beautiful,” he says and Sarah almost blushes. She’s had many men call her beautiful, shower her with compliments, but somehow coming from Chuck it’s completely different. She smiles.

“Good morning.”

“Morning,” he replies. “Wait, isn’t it evening?”

“Oh,” she says. “Right. That was actually why I was waking you up. We have to get moving again.” He looks like he’s going to protest for a second, but then he closes his mouth and nods in resignation.

They get dressed quickly and check the perimeter out the window before moving quickly to the car and Sarah’s driving again. When he complains and says she should let him drive, she says that she will, just not now. After that, they settle in for the drive. Sarah is in the process of worrying whether or not this will be awkward when Chuck reaches over and brushes some hair back from her face before settling his hand lightly on the back of her neck. She looks over and smiles.

--

They drive up the winding coast of California and Chuck only gets car sick once. Sarah pulls over at a spot that looks out over a cliff and the Pacific Ocean. As Chuck breathes in the salty air, she leans on the fence next to him and runs a hand up and down his back.

“You okay?” she asks after a bit. Her hair is back in a ponytail but bits of his have come loose and are flying around her face in the wind.

“Yeah. At least I didn’t throw up, right?” She smiles. “I thought getaways were supposed to be glamorous or something. In the movies, people never have to pull over to be sick while running from the government.” He listens to her quiet laugh and thinks he could actually stay in this spot forever. A seagull wheels over their heads, crying, before flying out to the sea again.

“Spy life isn’t glamorous,” she says softly. “Just lonely and dangerous.”

He takes her hand and she smiles up at him. “It’s my turn to drive,” he says, and she nods with a slightly weary smile. Not so lonely anymore.

--

They’re somewhere near the California-Oregon border and Chuck is driving.

“Sarah,” he says.

“Hm?” She’s looking out the window at the tall redwood trees.

“We’re not going to Canada, are we?”

She smiles at his slightly worried tone. “Why not? Canada’s nice.” When he gives her a jokingly panicked look, she smacks him in the head and they laugh a little.

Chuck faces the road again and is grateful for the highway driving – he’s not sure how well he can drive stick when there’s lots of starting and stopping. He glances at her every once in a while, and she seems much more relaxed, her head tilted back on the headrest, hair swirling around her, eyes closed. Even though they’re running from the government and all, he’s unbelievably grateful that he’s on this crazy part of the ride with her.

“Sarah?”

“Hm?” She looks over at him with a small smile on her lips.

“Thanks.”

Fic: Sarah vs. The Intersect

Sat, 11 Apr 2009 17:15:08 GMT

Title: Sarah vs. The Intersect
Words: 835
Summary: Let's just say that I was originally going to call this Sarah vs. Jill.
Spoliers: Up till the promo for next week (Chuck vs. The First Kill)
Disclaimer: Not mine!!
Rating: PG
Character/Pairings: Casey, Jill, Chuck/Sarah
Warnings: None.
Author’s Notes: One-shot. Just some speculation!

Sarah vs. The Intersect

“Walker, stop pacing or I will shoot you.”

Sarah froze in the middle of the floor in the castle, her shoulders rigid. Embarrassed, she glanced at Casey and then quickly away again, crossing her arms over her chest. “Sorry,” she said gruffly. Her feet itched to take steps, her legs burned to keep moving, but through the sheer force of her self-control, she remained still.

“Got your panties in a bunch because – “

“My panties are not in a twist and it’s not because of – you’re enjoying this, aren’t you.” She turned to glare at her partner, who was indeed sitting at the table and looking incredibly smug.

“Yep, pretty much.” He quirked his eyebrow. Sarah opened her mouth to respond, but at that moment the door at the top of the stairs opened. The two agents looked up, and went still and tense as two figures stepped through.

“You okay, Chuck?” Sarah asked before immediately berating herself. Of course her concern for the emotional ties he has to this assignment would make her ask that, and unintentionally put him in a weaker position in front of...but Chuck didn’t answer her. Still, her eyes didn’t leave the figure walking next to him. “Where’s the armed guard?”

“They left once we got inside,” he said lightly. Sarah could quickly tell that he was uneasy and closed off, and for some reason that just made her irrationally angry. He shouldn’t have been put in this position.

“Two of you can handle me, right?” said the other figure blithely, crossing her arms.

“Jill,” said Sarah in acknowledgement through her gritted teeth. Chuck looked up at her tone and then in between her and Jill, who were staring at each other in a very intensely challenging way.

“Whoa, retract the claws. This mission is to get my father back. Then Jill will go back to her cell.” Jill glanced up at him, and Sarah was struck by how accepting she seemed of her whole situation. That only made her hate Jill more.

“Well, then let’s get to work,” said Casey, having apparently gotten tired of watching the interchange between the two women. Sarah thought she heard him mutter something about crazy women but she couldn’t be sure. “Roberts, what do you know about this facility?” He pulled up a picture of Roark’s building on a screen and Jill walked over to review it with him. Sarah grabbed Chuck and pulled him a little bit away.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” she said, her whole body humming with uneasy energy. She couldn’t stop watching Jill out of the corner of her eye.

“I’m not fine with it,” he said. “but I have to…use Jill. If it means getting my father back, then I’m willing to do anything.” His tone was intense, determined, and Sarah looked at him somewhat sadly. Some days she missed carefree, awkward Chuck. “I only just found him again, Sarah.”

“I know,” she said quietly, reaching up and running a hand down his arm. “I’m so sorry all of this is happening.”

He nodded a little absentmindedly. “It’s not just that, though. I mean, obviously I want my dad back, but he also knows how to get the Intersect out of my head. If I can do that…” he trailed off and their eyes locked together. Sarah swallowed.

“Yeah,” she said, uncertain of what she meant. Sarah held his gaze for a moment more before looking down and then back over at Jill. “She, uh, seems to be fairly helpful. Casey doesn’t look like he wants to kill her, anyway.” Chuck gave a weak laugh.

“As long as she helps me get my dad back.” There was something hard in his voice that made her look at him again.

“We’ll get him back, Chuck. I promise.” They shared an intense gaze before Chuck nodded.

“Yeah.”

"We have to,” Sarah said strongly, even though everything in her was screaming the opposite. If Chuck got the Intersect out of his head, she would be reassigned as far away from LA as possible. She wouldn’t be allowed to see or contact Chuck ever again. She would have to walk away from him, from his family, from this life. But still, as she looked up at him, she knew she would do whatever it took to help him find his father and remove the Intersect. Because it was Chuck, and because he deserved it. And because she’d do anything for him.

He smiled at her. “Let’s get to work.” Chuck turned and walked over to where Casey and Jill were. Sarah waited a moment, crossing her arms tightly over her stomach and biting back a wave of emotion. She would work with Jill, she would find Fulcrum’s Intersect, she would help Chuck get his old life back, because she would do anything for him.

But then she would walk away.

Her body humming with repressed emotion, Sarah walked over to her team. Time to get to work.

Spring Break!!

Fri, 20 Mar 2009 14:31:37 GMT

Alright, so I am done with all of the insane amounts of work I had to do and I'm on my spring break....and headed to Florida. So instead of taking my laptop with me and spending yet more hours staring at its screen, I'm leaving it behind and going cold turkey! :D

So yeah, if I don't respond to all the BSG madness going around (I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S ENDING TODAY OMFG.) or fics or whatever, I'm sorry, but I'm on the beach. ;) Recovering from massive amounts of stress, a really awful cold, and just generally trying to make my pale, pale self get a little sun with a couple of my friends.

Anyway, everyone have a good week!!

Fic - Rain - Legend of the Seeker

Sat, 14 Mar 2009 04:46:08 GMT

Title: Rain
Words: 626
Summary: Richard and Kahlan get caught in the rain.
Spoliers: Through 'Revenant'.
Disclaimer: Not mine!!
Rating: PG...13?
Character/Pairings: Richard/Kahlan
Warnings: Mentions of sexual behavior.
Author’s Notes: For lolilie!! My first LotS fic.

As the rain poured down from the sky like a waterfall, Richard stared glumly out into the dusk.

“This is kind of miserable,” he said, and was immediately embarrassed at how childish he sounded when Kahlan was sitting beside him, not making a noise. They were huddled close together under a rocky outcropping, wrapped in the cloaks, their knees pulled up to their chests. As evening fell and the rain refused to stop, Richard grudgingly began to realize that they were probably going to have to stay the night like this if they didn’t want to get completely soaked.

Kahlan didn’t say anything in response, and he glanced over at her. In the gloom, all he could really make out was her face, set in a rather stony expression, and her damp hair lying in wet waves across her shoulders. Their shoulders were pressed together, and he thought he felt her shiver.

“Are you cold?” he asked, concern creeping into his voice.

She shook her head. “No. I’m fine.” He remained silent and unconvinced and she looked over as if she sensed it. With a wry smile, she said, “Well I’m not exactly having the time of my life, but I’m surviving.”

“What, am I not amusing enough for you?” he joked, suddenly feeling a little more alive and a little less bleak. “And here I thought I was a professional entertainer.”

He was rewarded with Kahlan’s laugh, her teeth bright in the dull grey evening. “You may be the Seeker, Richard, but that doesn’t mean you’re good at everything.”

He hung his head for a moment, jokingly making a noise like she had just mortally wounded him. “A knife to the heart,” he said, and heard her snort a little with laughter.

She smiled at him, and even in the gloom he could see that look in her eyes. ‘That look’ was the one that made his stomach turn over in quiet joy, made his heart give an extra hard thump. It was caring, affection…love. He couldn’t help but smile back, and in that moment he didn’t mind the rain at all.

As their gazes remained locked, Kahlan’s smile slipped a little and she finally looked away, clearing her throat. “How do you think Zedd is doing?”

Richard looked at his hands. “I’m sure he’s fine. He’s Zedd, he’s always fine.” Kahlan nodded and stared out into the rain, suddenly serious. Richard looked out at the rain too. Thinking of Zedd made him think of the tomb, which made him think…of Kahlan. And how close they had been to…losing everything.

And yet, there was a very large part of him that wished Zedd hadn’t stopped them. That Kahlan and he…well, he would have at least liked to remember what they had done, if he was never going to get the real thing.

Richard sighed heavily, mentally berating himself. Of course there was more to his relationship with Kahlan than sex – a lot more – but that didn’t mean he didn’t think about it. Didn’t want it.

He glanced over at her and saw her hug her knees tighter to her chest, shivering a little. Richard smiled fondly. “Kahlan.” She looked at him, and he opened his cloak on one side. “Come on. The least we can do is keep each other from freezing to death.”

For a minute he thought she was going to refuse, but then she gave him a little smile and scooted over until she was in the circle of his arm. She wrapped the rest of his cloak around her and settled in next to him. Richard let out a contented sigh, Kahlan rested her head on his shoulder, and they waited for the rest of the night to pass.

(Sorry it's kind of short - it just sort of concluded itself! XD )

Fic - Save You - Chuck

Fri, 13 Mar 2009 04:20:00 GMT

Title: Save You
Words: 912
Summary: A mission goes wrong and leads to some revelations.
Spoliers: General series spoilers.
Disclaimer: Not mine!!
Rating: PG?
Character/Pairings: Chuck/Sarah
Warnings: A little bit of violence, but nothing explicit.
Author’s Notes: So I downloaded Kelly Clarkson's new album before it came out (shame on me) and this song just wouldn't get out of my head. So, here's this. Kind of angsty and quite possibly too cliched/whatever.

Save You

I wish I could save you.
I wish I could say to you,
I'm not going nowhere.
I wish I could say to you,
It's gonna be alright.
Save You by Kelly Clarkson

Sarah freezes when it happens. She and Chuck have gotten separated from Casey in the gunfight, Sarah’s orders being to get Chuck the hell out of there while Casey holds of their attackers – a gang of Guatamalan rebels buying arms in the US. They are almost clear of the warehouse when all of a sudden there is more gunfire and Chuck falls to the ground with a cry of pain.

And Sarah just freezes.

All of her training absolutely disappears at that moment, as she stares down at Chuck, lying on the pavement, holding his shoulder as blood seeps out through his Nerd Herd shirt.

“Sarah!” he yells, and she can hear the fear in his voice. Without thinking, she turns and guns down the rebel that has followed them, her teeth gritted in determination. She barely needs to get an eye on his position, she just moves her gun instinctually and he’s down.

Then she turns back to Chuck and kneels by him, holding her hands over his bleeding shoulder. She presses gently and he cries out again.

“Oh my God! Sarah – I – holy crap, this hurts!” She might have laughed if she hadn’t been terrified out of her wits.

“It’s going to be alright,” she whispers. “Everything is going to be fine.” Her agent mind kicks in again and she assesses their situation quickly. They’re in an open warehouse full of massive shipping crates, but from where Chuck is lying their position is nearly impossible to defend. She can hear gunshots in the distance and knows she just needs to hide Chuck long enough for their backup team to be called in. Ten minutes, tops. “We have to move, Chuck.”

He groans and struggles to sit up. “Move. Okay. Yeah, I think I can do that.” She slips an arm around him, under his unhurt shoulder, and helps him– good lord the man is heavy – to his feet. They struggle about ten feet and then collapse in a heap behind a large stack of crates. Sarah props Chuck up against one and rips off her light sweatshirt, whipping out one of her knives to shred it and make a bandage.

Sarah is surprised to find that her hands are shaking – badly. She knows that her adrenaline levels have to be incredibly high and her heart is pounding nearly out of her chest, but she feels something she usually doesn’t feel. Fear. Utter and outright.

“So this is what getting shot feels like,” said Chuck, joking weakly. He’s very pale and obviously in pain, but handling it surprisingly well. It’s Sarah who isn’t handling it well. To her surprise and embarrassment, she feels tears welling up in her eyes. Chuck notices and looks up at her with amused confusion in his eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be the one comforting me in this situation?”

Sarah wipes at her eyes brusquely and clears her throat. “Sorry. Um…” she almost has it together, but then she looks down at him lying there, pale as his shirt where it isn’t stained wine red with his blood and she loses control over herself again. “I’m so sorry, Chuck. For everything. You never should have had to be in a situation like this.” She swipes angrily at her eyes again and then looks down at her hands, which are applying pressure to his shoulder. If she has to see the look in his eyes – because she pretty much knows what he’s going to say – then she’ll well and truly lose it.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” he says weakly. She just snorts in reply and continues to avoid his gaze until his other hand reaches up and touches her shoulder gently. Begrudgingly, she turns her head to meet his eyes. As she expected, they are full of much more caring than she will ever deserve. “Sarah, really. Don’t worry about it. I chose to be here.”

“But you didn’t,” she said, more aggressively than she meant. “You didn’t choose for any of this to happen! It was just Bryce Larkin, on a whim, sending you an email. If that hadn’t happened, then you wouldn’t have had to do all this. You wouldn’t have the Intersect in your head, you wouldn’t have your life threatened on an almost daily basis…I wouldn’t have your blood all over my hands.” She looked away again.

For a moment Chuck just lay there before speaking up again. “Yeah, but then you wouldn’t be here.”

She scoffed lightly, shifting a little. Her left leg was falling asleep a little. “Because you’d have a normal life. The one you want.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” he said, so quietly she almost missed it. She frowned at him.

“What?”

He doesn’t answer, just looks up at her with a smile like…like he’s in love with her. She swallows and stares back, tears welling up in her eyes again completely against her will. Then his eyes flutter closed and his head slips to the side.

“Chuck! Chuck, wake up.” She shakes him, slaps his face lightly, but he doesn’t wake up. Panic making her hands shake again, she presses the cloth to his wound and leans in to press a kiss to his curly hair, then his forehead. “I’m so sorry. It’s going to be alright. I promise.” Feeling like she’s living in someone else’s body, she presses another kiss to his head. “I’m not going anywhere.”