Heart

Casey.

Chuck pulled up short before entering the barn and he backed up against the wall to the side of the door opening. Calm down, he told himself, trying to catch his breath. A strong breeze billowed around him, creating waves across the top of the hayfield. He pulled out his cell and entered a code number that he and General Beckman had set up after Operation Snowman. Then he turned on the alarm locator in his watch. Casey wanted him to run, but Chuck was done with running. Casey was his best friend, and even if the big guy would never admit it, Chuck knew that Casey considered him a friend as well. And Sarah, well, Sarah was so much more. Running was no longer an option.

He pushed down the wave of panic that threatened to paralyze him. He had to think like Sarah and Casey. What would they do? Take down the bad guy and save the day, he thought wryly. If this were Call of Duty, he would round up four or five soldiers and take Smith down in a classic pincer movement. He shook his head. There wasn't anyone else, and it would take some time for the cavalry to arrive. And God forbid they have to stop at that gas station for directions.

He had to stall for time, but he also realized that Smith might very well kill Casey and Sarah as soon as Beckman's people arrived. He had to get Smith away from them somehow. Only one idea came to mind. He took a deep breath, raised his hands, and entered the barn.

As Chuck entered, Smith raised his gun and then relaxed, allowing the gun to dangle at his side. He stood next to Sarah, who raised her head and locked eyes with Chuck.

"Chuck," she began.

"Sarah, I know." Although it was difficult, Chuck shifted his gaze to Smith.

"We need to talk," he said.

"I agree," said Smith. "You can start by telling me how you found my laboratory."

From above, a pigeon cooed softly.

Chuck looked at Casey, who lay on the left side of the barn. Too far away to determine whether or not he was still breathing. Chuck slowly lowered his arms and glanced at Smith's gun.

Not now!

The back of his brain began to tingle, and the urge to vomit was nearly unbearable. His vision blackened, and then he was hit with an onslaught of images in a red hue: stacks of dead fish in a wooden market stall; a man handing Smith a gun; Smith forcing a kiss onto a woman dressed in black ops gear; Smith's written application for formal induction into the CIA; Smith using a knife to kill the same woman he had kissed; stacks of dead fish in a wooden market stall. Chuck shifted his weight to cope with the brief bout of dizziness as the Fulcrum Intersect withdrew. He dreaded the Fulcrum flashes. The intensity was compounded by his memories of the pain he experienced during the download, memories that were nearly as painful as the actual experience. He gasped softly as his vision returned to normal.

Sarah had noticed the familiar glazed stare in Chuck's eyes and she kicked Smith lightly to gain his attention.

"Chuck has nothing to do with this, he's just a computer guy."

"I'm not a stupid man, Agent Walker. The top CIA agent and the top NSA agent were sent to handle a computer expert?" Smith laughed. "Hardly. There is more to Chuck than meets the eye, that's for certain."

"He's right," Chuck blurted.

Smith returned his attention to Chuck. "I'm waiting."

Chuck licked his lips. "Look, I'm more valuable to you alive and cooperative. Let's you and I leave here, and I'll tell you everything. Sarah and Casey aren't a threat to you."

"What makes you so valuable? I'm not just going to take your word for it." Smith took a few steps closer to Chuck.

"Don't say anything, Chuck," Sarah warned.

Smith turned around and aimed his gun at her. "Shut up!"

"Hold it, Smith," Chuck said quickly. "Sarah, I know exactly what I'm doing."

Smith turned back.

Chuck took a deep breath. "I know you loved your handler." He paused a moment. "And I know you killed her."

Smith was shaken briefly; the shock of Chuck's words was plainly evident on his face. He regained his composure and his gaze took on a deadly intensity. "How would you know that?" he said softly.

"Not here," said Chuck. "We leave and I'll tell you everything."

Smith pointed his gun back at Sarah. "You talk now or I kill her."

"If I talk now, you'll kill her anyway."

Smith thought for a moment. Suddenly, the distant sound of helicopters became evident.

"You called for help?" asked Smith, narrowing his eyes.

"Look," said Chuck quickly. "We don't have much time. We can leave now. Fulcrum will give you anything if you turn me in."

Chuck saw movement and he looked toward Casey, who rolled from his back onto his side. He was very pale and a trickle of blood ran down the side of his face.

Smith followed Chuck's line of sight. The noise from the choppers grew closer and he made his decision. Smith walked over to Casey deliberately, slowly crossing the barn, his mind racing. How the hell did the asset know about his handler? No one knew about that, not even after the CIA investigation of her death. He was never a suspect. He would kill the agents and take Chuck to Fulcrum, but not before questioning him personally.

Click.

Startled, Smith looked at Chuck.

Chuck had pulled out Casey's gun and released the safety. He held the gun with both hands, which shook so much he had trouble holding onto it. He swallowed hard and ignored the droplets of sweat running into his eyes; he blinked them away furiously. His heart hammered in his chest and he couldn't seem to draw a deep breath. Panic settled in and his legs felt rubbery.

Smith smiled and took a few steps toward Chuck. "Have you even held a gun before?" He laughed. "You're going to watch me kill your handlers, and you won't be able to do a thing about it." Smith walked back to Casey, keeping a cautious eye on Chuck. "You were right, I did kill her. It was hard for me, harder than any of the others. But I got over it. How will you feel, knowing that your refusal to answer my question has killed your friends?" Smith pointed the gun at Casey.

Chuck swallowed hard and felt the color drain from his face.

Strengthen your stance. Casey's calm, controlled voice broke through the panic surging through his mind. Chuck spread his feet slightly and squared his shoulders. Grip the gun firmly, but keep your hands relaxed. He tightened his grip on the gun and willed his hands to stop shaking. They continued to tremble a bit; but at least he wasn't going to drop the gun. Aim, squeeze the trigger, and for God's sake keep your eyes open! Chuck aimed carefully for Smith's chest.

Smith's eyes grew wide as he realized his mistake. He swung his gun toward Chuck and pulled the trigger.

Chuck squeezed his eyes shut tightly and fired the gun.

Three pigeons took flight among the rafters, flapping their wings noisily.

Chuck heard the gunfire, and then found himself looking up at the hayloft, struggling to take in a breath. He was dimly aware of Sarah's voice calling his name. He wanted to answer her, but he couldn't seem to make his lungs work. The rafters above him started to spin, and his vision darkened.

Then he was being shaken violently back and forth. Casey's hand gripped the collar of his vest.

"Breathe, Chuck," ordered Casey.

Chuck's eyelids snapped open and he drew in a deep breath, triggering a coughing spell. He looked up at Casey, who had crawled over to him.

"You're alive, Casey," Chuck managed to say between coughs.

"Nothing gets past you, does it?" said Casey with a smile. He shook his head and turned toward Sarah. "He's fine."

Sarah leaned back against the post with relief.

Chuck finally got the coughing under control. "Mr. Smith?" he asked.

Casey frowned slightly. "We don't have to worry about him. C'mon, let's get Sarah out of here." Casey tried to stand, and then dropped to one knee. The left side of his head was bleeding profusely.

Chuck stood, grabbed Casey's arm, and hauled him up. Casey held onto the edge of one of the stalls and handed Chuck his knife. Chuck hurried over to Sarah and cut the zip ties. He helped her stand and then he grabbed her and held her close. She shivered violently and laid her cheek against his chest. She stood quietly for a moment, relishing the warmth of his arms.

"Are you okay?" he asked her softly.

She looked up at him. "I am now," she said, blinking her eyes.

Casey cleared his throat. "Choppers have landed. I'll meet the troops." He walked outside with one hand holding the left side of his head.

Chuck let go of Sarah and walked over to Smith's body. There was a small bloodstain on his shirt.

"Chuck," said Sarah, taking his hand, "let's go now."

"I killed him, didn't I?"

"You saved Casey, Chuck. You saved me." She gave him a worried glance and tugged on his hand.

Chuck relented with a sigh and followed her outside. He shaded his eyes with his hand as he entered the sunlight. Three helicopters had landed in the hayfield around the barn. Several military vehicles were also present. Casey was sitting on the tailgate of an army truck, and a woman was stitching up his wound.

"Agent Walker," a woman in camouflage approached them. "Come with me and we'll get you examined and cleaned up."

Sarah looked at Chuck. He's too pale, she thought.

Chuck let go of her hand. "Go ahead, I'll check on Casey."

Sarah nodded uncertainly and joined the woman in camouflage. She glanced back at him several times before entering the back of a van.

Chuck sat beside Casey on the tailgate. A man walked over and helped Chuck remove the bulletproof vest and his shirt. A large bruise was already purpling on his chest. Chuck rubbed the spot absently, staring at the barn. Four men were carrying Smith's body out on a stretcher; they loaded it onto one of the helicopters.

Chuck put his shirt back on slowly.

"Are you okay, Casey?" he asked, keeping his gaze on the helicopter.

"The bullet just grazed me, no serious damage." Casey had watched Chuck's face while Smith's body was moved. "Chuck," he began. The woman had finished the stitching, and she applied a cotton dressing to the wound. Casey mumbled "thanks," and waved her away.

"Chuck," he started again.

Chuck interrupted him. "I know I didn't do what you wanted, Casey. I'm sorry."

Casey sighed. This was harder than he thought. "That's not what I'm trying to say." He took a deep breath. "You're a good man to have around, Chuck."

Chuck finally looked at Casey.

Casey nodded his head. "Semper fi, Chuck."

Chuck smiled weakly. "Semper fidelis, Casey."

Sarah approached them. She was wearing black pants, boots, and a dark green jacket. She carried three bottles of water, and gave one to Casey and one to Chuck when she reached them. Casey opened his and drank half of it in one long swallow. Chuck set his down on the tailgate.

"Did he hurt you, Sarah?" Chuck asked.

"Nothing permanent, just a knife wound to my leg. It's already starting to heal."

Chuck nodded. "Good." He looked again at the helicopter. "Why didn't he just take me and leave?"

Sarah started to speak, but Casey raised his hand. "Chuck, there is good and there is bad. Most people fall in between somewhere. And then there's a few like Smith, who don't really fit into any category. You'll never be able to make sense of it. You can only do what you have to do to survive, and move on."

"Move on," said Chuck in a distant voice.

Everyone was quiet for a moment, watching the activity around the barn.

"Chuck, we're hitching a ride to Castle for debriefing," said Sarah.

"I can't go, Sarah." Chuck hopped down from the tailgate.

Sarah and Casey exchanged a look.

"No problem," she said quickly. "I'll have you taken home and I'll see you there later."

Sarah walked him over to a car on the side of the road. She grabbed his hand and gave it a warm squeeze before he climbed into the backseat. "See you soon."

Chuck nodded and pulled the door shut.

She walked back to Casey.

"He's not doing so good," commented Casey.

"I know," said Sarah, biting her lower lip.

"I'm not feeling so hot myself," he said. "In fact, I think I'll give the surveillance of Chuck's apartment the night off."

Sarah stared at him.

Casey shrugged. "No sense in monitoring him if you're going to be there."

Sarah gave him a smile. "I'm glad you came for me, Casey."

"Like I said, I came for…" he began.

"Smith," Sarah finished for him. "I know, and I'm glad you did."

***

When Chuck got home, Devon and Ellie were sitting on the couch watching a movie.

"Hey Chuck, perfect timing! We were just starting to watch Spirit of the Marathon," said Devon.

"Again," said Ellie, rolling her eyes.

"It's just what you need Chuck. The proper motivation to take up jogging," said Devon, ignoring Ellie's comment.

"Uh, thanks, Devon. But I have a terrible headache, and I just want to crash right now," Chuck said, walking past them to his room.

"Are you okay, Chuck?" asked Ellie. "You're not getting sick?"

"No sis, I'll just take some Motrin and sleep it off. Enjoy the Marathon."

Chuck took a quick shower and then climbed into bed wearing only flannel pants, pulling the covers up to his neck. He turned on his iPod and speakers, setting the volume low. The sun dipped lower in the sky, and he watched the shadows lengthen on the walls.

He killed a man. While he knew it had been necessary, his mind teased him with other possibilities. Had he missed something? Could he have handled it differently? The image of Smith's body came to him again and again, and he felt sick.

The blinds on his window rustled and Sarah stepped into his room. She glided across the floor and slipped under the covers as he watched her with dull eyes. She curled up beside him and rested her head on his chest, carefully avoiding the large bruised area. Chuck wrapped his arm around her and she snuggled closer. Use Somebody by Kings of Leon drifted from the speakers and they lay silently together, listening to the music and watching the last of the daylight fade away.

Finally, Chuck broke the silence. "I can't do this, Sarah."

She waited.

"I can't live with myself."

She reached up and brushed his cheek with her fingertips.

"I'm not supposed to be a killer."

She lightly kissed his chest, her fingers tracing the outline of his bruise, barely visible in the dimly lit room.

"Please, Sarah."

She sighed and looked up at him. "You're different from other people, Chuck. That's why people are drawn to you. That's why I'm drawn to you. You always do what you feel is the right thing to do. And you did the right thing today."

"But it doesn't feel right." His voice cracked.

"It will in time. And until then, you will simply have to trust me. You did the right thing." She hesitated. "You should know something, Chuck. I had decided that you were better off being an asset. I was going to talk to Beckman about it."

"Oh."

"I realize now I was wrong."

"You do?"

"Yes. Chuck, you have so much to offer our team. Doing the right thing. Caring about people. Casey and I lose sight of that sometimes, and we need you to remind us." She shook her head. "That's not completely true. I need you Chuck. I need a man with a good heart. And Casey needs a good friend, even if he doesn't realize it yet."

"How can you say that knowing that I killed a man?"

"Chuck, if you didn't feel…conflicted about this, I would be worried. Even if this haunts you forever, and I hope it doesn't, you will realize that it was the right thing to do. It was your only option."

They were quiet for a long while, and Sarah finally felt the day's adrenaline rush dissipating.

"What did Beckman say about all this?" Chuck asked.

"Hmmm?" she said sleepily. "She thought you did a great job, and she ordered Casey to start teaching you some spy skills."

"Well, I think I'm done with guns for a while," said Chuck. "Maybe he could drop a little knowledge on C-4?"

Sarah smiled in the darkness. "You'll have to ask Casey." She turned her head up to look at him, and kissed him softly on his lips.

"Um," he stammered. "What about the bugs and cameras?"

"Casey is taking the night off."

She kissed him again, and he gripped her tightly, deepening the kiss. Sarah turned her back to him, and he turned onto his side and held her close, hoping the sweet smell of her hair would forever be imprinted into his memory. He hovered on the warm edge of sleep, focusing on the softness of Sarah's body next to his, and crowding out the images of Smith, at least for tonight.

He listened to her breathing, feeling the rise and fall of her chest beneath his arm. Outside, a robin braved the darkness, calling out its familiar cheery-o, cheery-o!

He closed his eyes, finally allowing himself to float toward sleep.

"I love you, Chuck."

He opened his eyes. It was barely a whisper, but he heard her as plainly as if she had yelled it from across the room. Startled, he realized that she thought he was asleep. He smiled and waited for her breathing to become deep and regular.

"I love you too, Sarah," he whispered softly.

Outside, the lonely robin called once more into the night.

The End

Author's Note: I would like to thank all the reviewers who kept me motivated during the writing process, particularly Truthseekr and Timewalker05, who offered me some terrific writing advice whenever I hit a rough patch. I also offer a special thanks to Anon4utu, who not only provided me with enthusiastic support and editing assistance, but who also steered me into all the right directions with my last chapter.