Chuck versus The Last Wish

Chapter 4 – Remember Me

The first light of dawn was only just beginning to filter through the curtains when Chuck opened his eyes. Outside, a single bird was singing. Sarah lay with her back to him, her shoulder rising and falling steadily, the oversized T-shirt bunched up slightly across her back. Chuck watched her for a while, then carefully turned onto his side, making sure not to wake her.

The knife lay beside the edge of the pillow—not where it belonged. Sarah had pulled it out during the night and, at some point, set it down not beneath the pillow, but beside it, as if her hand had simply grown tired. Chuck didn't touch it. He stared at it for a moment, then quietly slipped out of bed.

In the kitchen, the coffee maker began its daily struggle with a familiar sputtering sound. Chuck leaned against the counter and waited for it to finish when he heard soft footsteps behind him.

“You’re up early,” Sarah said.

Chuck turned. Sarah was leaning against the doorframe, still wearing his T-shirt, one hand absently adjusting the sleeve. She looked sleepy as the smell of freshly brewed coffee slowly filled the kitchen.

“Didn't sleep very well.”

Sarah nodded. Chuck didn't ask about the night, and Sarah didn't bring it up either; he didn't want to stir it all up again. Instead, he poured two cups of coffee, put two sugar cubes in one, and set it down in front of her.

“Thank you.” She wrapped her fingers around the mug as if warming her hands against it, even though the kitchen wasn't cold.

For a few minutes, they stood quietly beside the counter. Then Chuck glanced at the clock, looking at the time reluctantly. “I have to go. Morgan will be here in ten minutes.”

Sarah nodded. “Go ahead.”

Chuck paused at the doorway and looked back. “Ellie wanted to call you. Thought I’d warn you to be ready.” He gave her a crooked half-smile. “She can be pretty persistent.”

Sarah laughed, and Chuck couldn't help smiling too.

“Living with you guys, that doesn't surprise me.”

XXXXXXXXXXX

The call came around ten that morning. Sarah was sitting in the living room when Ellie’s smiling face appeared on the tablet, looking familiar and welcoming from the very first moment.

“Hi, Sarah!”

“Hi, Ellie.”

“Alex told me she kidnapped you for a little while yesterday.”

Sarah smiled. “Yeah. I think it went pretty well.”

“I heard you went shopping.”

“We did.”

“Did you find anything?”

Sarah held one of the shirts up to the camera. “This.”

For a moment, a childlike delight appeared on her face, and Ellie answered with an equally broad smile. “I like it.”

A brief silence settled between them, and Ellie didn't rush to fill it. Happy children could be heard in the background, along with Devon’s voice. Something fell in the kitchen, followed by Devon’s patient voice as he dealt with whatever had happened.

“Devon’s currently trying to convince Clara that broccoli isn't the enemy of humanity.”

Sarah smiled faintly. “Is he succeeding?”

“No. But they’re both very persistent.”

They laughed together, and suddenly, the distance between them seemed a little smaller.

Then another silence followed, this one longer, until Sarah finally broke it. “What was I like?”

Ellie went quiet for a moment. “You mean…”

“Like… with you guys.”

Ellie smiled, her expression growing distant for a moment as she remembered. “You came over for dinner more often than you ever admitted to. You were a wonderful friend. You had an incredible effect on my little brother, and I was so happy when you agreed to be my maid of honor.”

Sarah looked at her in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought we only spent time together because of Chuck.”

Ellie shook her head. “Not just because of him. You liked coming over to our place. We had great dinners, talked… You and Chuck just clicked so well.”

Sarah lowered her eyes. “I wish I could remember that.”

Ellie didn't try to comfort her; she simply nodded. The silence said more than any advice could have.

Sarah was quiet for several seconds. “Sometimes I feel like…”

“Yeah?”

“Like everyone knows me.” She had finally put into words what she'd been feeling for days. She paused, struggling with the thought. “Except me.”

Ellie’s voice softened, but there was no pity in it. “That must be really scary.”

Sarah nodded. “It is.”

“But you know…” Ellie continued. “We don't have to get to know you all over again.”

“You don't?”

“No. You need to get to know yourself again.”

Sarah was silent for a long time. Finally, she asked quietly, “What if I'm not the same?”

Ellie’s smile never faded. “Then we’ll love that Sarah, too.”

Sarah looked down at her mug and blinked, fighting back tears, then looked back at the camera. “Thank you, Ellie.”

“Oh, please. You’re a Bartowski now, too. Even if you don't know it yet.”

Sarah’s thumb instinctively found her wedding ring. She slowly ran her finger over it as Ellie’s words continued to echo in her mind.

“You’re a Bartowski now, too.”

XXXXXXXXXXX

At Castle, Chuck was on his third cup of coffee when a hit appeared in the corner of one of the monitors. The first cup, now completely cold, was still sitting beside him.

“Morgan!”

Morgan spun around in his chair, pushing off so hard that he nearly crashed into Chuck’s desk. “What?”

“I’ve got a hit. A corporate structure that might be a lead.”

Morgan leaned over to look at the screen. “That’s… a lot of money.”

“Too much for one person to move around.”

Chuck slowly traced the cursor through the network until it stopped at one particular point, digging deeper and deeper into the corporate web. Something told him they were on the right track.

“This. This is the parent company.”

The name appeared on the screen—a holding company with no obvious connection to the CIA, Fulcrum, or any of the Ring’s previous structures.

Morgan frowned. “We’ve never seen this before.”

“Exactly,” Chuck said quietly. “This is something new.”

Beside the holding company’s name, a date appeared on the screen. It had been established only a few months before Quinn first surfaced. Chuck and Morgan looked at each other for a moment, the silence suddenly feeling heavier.

Then Chuck saw something buried deeper in the corporate network. He abruptly stopped the cursor.

“Wait…”

Morgan rolled closer. Chuck silently pointed to a line on the screen.

Morgan’s face went pale. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”

XXXXXXXXXXX

In the afternoon, Sarah found herself alone in the house. It was the first time she'd been completely on her own for any length of time. She wandered from room to room without really knowing what she was looking for; there was no particular destination, yet she found herself checking every room anyway.

In the living room, she stopped in front of the bookshelf. Her fingers drifted over the spines until they came to rest on a thin box sitting at the end of the shelf, half-hidden behind a row of novels. She pulled it down.

A layer of old memories filled the top: movie tickets, a napkin covered in faded scribbles, and a handful of Polaroids. Sarah sat down on the floor, crossed her legs, and rested the box in her lap. Slowly, she began going through them.

One photograph showed a sunset over the ocean. She and Chuck were laughing about something the picture couldn't reveal. Another showed a Christmas tree, where Morgan was clowning around in the background while Sarah—her old self—was laughing so hard she looked ready to cry.

Her fingers stopped on a faded Polaroid. She couldn't turn to the next one.

It showed the deck of a boat. She and Chuck were both wearing sunglasses and some kind of costume—Sarah was wearing a hat, a bikini, and a sarong, while Chuck had on a strange, brightly colored shirt.

She didn't remember the moment. But something stirred inside her as she looked at the picture.

Not an image. Not a word.

A feeling.

The taste of salt on the wind. The gentle rocking of a boat beneath her feet. A name she couldn't place.

“Natalie…?” she whispered involuntarily.

She immediately fell silent, startled by the sound of her own voice. Sarah frowned as a dull pulse ran through her temple, coming as quickly as it disappeared.

She instinctively touched her head. She had no idea where the word had come from. She simply sat there, the photograph still held tight in her hand, trying to understand what it might once have meant.

XXXXXXXXXXX

That evening, Chuck stood in the doorway when he spotted Sarah sitting on the living room floor, the box still in her lap. Photographs were scattered around her, illuminated by the orange glow of the setting sun.

“Hey,” he said gently. “What did you find?”

Sarah looked up. Her eyes were tired, but not sad. “I’m not entirely sure.” She held up the Polaroid. “This… was a boat?”

Chuck crouched beside her, took the photograph, and his breath caught for a moment. “Yeah.”

“Where did we go on it?”

Chuck slowly sat down beside her on the floor. “That’s a long story.”

Sarah frowned slightly. “I remember a name. I don't even know where it came from.”

“What name?”

“Natalie.”

Chuck went quiet for a moment. Then he spoke softly. “That… was an old mission.”

Sarah watched his face. “Bad memory?”

“No.” Chuck shook his head, a faint smile appearing. “Not at all. It’s just… strange that it came back now.”

Sarah looked at the photograph again, then back at Chuck. “Will you tell me about it?”

Chuck studied her for a long moment, then nodded. “Yeah. But this isn't exactly a short bedtime story, Sarah. It’s a pretty big adventure.”

Sarah moved a little closer until her shoulder touched his. “We have time.”

Chuck didn't even notice that Sarah’s hand had found its way beside his on the floor. She didn't take his hand; she simply left hers there. He picked up the Polaroid and, before beginning, looked at the two people in the photograph for another moment: the people they had been, and the people they were becoming again.

“All right,” he said softly. “Let’s start at the beginning. It started with a ship called the Azure Horizon…”

Chuck told her about Nassau and the adventures they'd had there. He told her about how they later ended up playing pirates in Costa Gravas, with Sarah as the captain and him as her deckhand — at least for fun. He told her about the wonderful moments, the dangers, and the people they'd met along the way.

“Natalie…” Chuck looked up as their eyes met. “She was a brave girl.”

His gaze drifted away for a moment.

“Did she end up happy?” Sarah asked.

Chuck slowly shook his head. “Not the way she wanted to.”

Sarah looked at the photograph again. “But we did.”

A smile appeared on Chuck’s face, his eyes smiling with it. “You’re getting all that from the picture?”

Sarah lifted the photograph and ran a finger along its edge. “Because this…” She tapped the picture lightly. “This is not how someone looks at another person unless they’re completely crazy about them.”

Chuck simply stared at her for a long moment. Finally, he spoke so quietly it was almost a whisper. “I miss that smile.”

Sarah didn't understand. She looked down at the photograph, then handed it back to him. “Tell me more about her.”

She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and settled more comfortably beside him, resting her hand on Chuck’s leg.

“Sure. Why not?” he said. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll tell you stories before you go to sleep.”

Sarah looked up at him, warmth in her eyes. “Like bedtime stories?”

“Something like that.”

“Only instead of dragons, there’ll be terrorists… and instead of a princess, there’ll be Sarah Walker.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow, already waiting for the rest. “And the knight?”

Chuck smiled. “That’s still up for debate. At best, I’m the wizard’s apprentice.”

“Chuck Bartowski, master of magic?”

“Personally.”

Sarah laughed. “You goof!” She gave Chuck a gentle shove on the shoulder.

XXXXXXXXXXX

The evening settled in quietly. The chirping of crickets drifted in through the open window.

That night, Chuck told her about his first days in Costa Gravas. His voice shifted between seriousness and playful amusement as the story unfolded.

Sarah was still sitting beside him on the rug, their shoulders occasionally brushing. She turned the Polaroid slowly between her fingers.

“That’s a good story,” she said softly, still looking at the photograph.

“It was.” Chuck smiled, his gaze drifting for a moment. “Although Morgan would probably say I left out the funniest parts.”

Sarah laughed.

Her laughter sounded completely natural now.

“Will you finish it tomorrow?”

Chuck looked at her.

The question caught him by surprise. He hadn't expected Sarah to ask.

“If you want me to.”

“I do.”

XXXXXXXXXXX

Later, it was fully dark outside, the room lit only by the warm glow of the bedside lamp. Chuck had just set his book on the nightstand when Sarah came out of the bathroom. Without a word, she walked over to the bed and slipped beneath the covers as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Her shoulder brushed against Chuck’s arm, and neither of them moved away. She edged a little closer until she was resting fully against him. Chuck slowly wrapped an arm around her, letting Sarah decide how close she wanted to be.

Sarah let out a deep sigh, her shoulders gradually relaxing. “This… is good.”

“I know,” Chuck replied softly.

For several minutes, neither of them spoke. Sarah carefully placed one hand over Chuck’s, almost as if she needed to make sure he was really there. Her thumb slowly brushed across the back of his hand—once. The movement was slow and tentative, then again, completely instinctive.

Chuck’s heart began beating faster, but he didn't move. He took a deep breath and gently laced his fingers with hers. She let him.

Sarah closed her eyes. “That’s strange…”

“What is?”

“I don't remember us doing this.”

Chuck smiled faintly. “Not always.”

Sarah looked up at him. “But we did?”

“When something was bothering you… Yeah.” He remembered how many times he'd comforted Sarah this way.

Sarah didn't answer, as though she were trying to picture it. Then her thumb slowly brushed over Chuck’s hand again.

A few minutes later, she was softly breathing in sleep. Chuck knew she was asleep, but he didn't pull his hand away.

Maybe Sarah’s memories were still somewhere far away. But her heart… it felt like it was already finding its way home.