xXXXx
~Two Weeks and One Quick, All Cash Real Estate Closing Later~
Chuck was standing at the carved entryway frame and holding in both hands a three-ring, white binder. He contemplated the carving, the night it was made, and the last few weeks. It was quiet and he was, for the moment, alone while Sarah was in the bedroom putting items away in their new places. Yesterday, when he and Sarah had started to move in and before the unpacking began in earnest, the two of them had stood in this same spot together and stared at their carved names. Sarah remembered the night after Ellie had deliberately crashed her car and Chuck had brought Sarah to the house unconscious. She remembered the recognition that had surfaced in her mind that night, that she had been the one to carve her name in the frame. But, as she ran her fingers over the letters of her name and his, she had told Chuck that, as it was then, she could not picture the act in her mind. She still only had the same fuzzy awareness of it rather than a full memory she could recall.
Lost in those thoughts, he pressed the binder against his chest. The two of them had looked at the photographs it contained several times. (And each time, she found the pictures of him with his longer, wavy hair delightfully amusing.) He would tell her about the moments captured in them, sometimes phrasing his description more as a question to see if she could supply a detail he was leading up to. Nothing came back to her. Notwithstanding that Sarah was no further along in recovering her memory -she had not had another memory fragment return since the evening that old Team Bartowski, with the improbable help of Lester and Jeff, saved General Beckman- he still believed it was good fortune, an improbable break, that the frame had not been repaired. To Chuck it was both a sign and a fingerhold of hope. He lightly touched the rough cut "+" that linked their names and then ran his hand over the binder's blank, smooth cover. For good luck. This house, the mark we made here, the stories I can tell her. He looked down at the binder in his hands. The pictures we have. I just need to keep her immersed in our story and hope that with her emotions, it all can act as a catalyst for breaking through to her memories.
~oOo~
~Three Days Later~
"Morgan, it was good seeing you. I hope Alex isn't too upset you'll be getting back so late."
Chuck and Morgan stood at the front door as Morgan finished putting his light jacket on and shouldered his messenger style bag.
"Dude, it was an emergency, I had to come. You've been in the house for three days and you still hadn't set up your home entertainment system or your gaming hardware? You were at serious risk of losing your nerd cred."
"Heh, I hear you buddy, thanks for saving me from that awful fate."
"Anytime, Chuck. Anyways, we would have been done a lot quicker if I hadn't suggested we take a break and watch a little 'Die Hard' before moving onto the gaming consoles. Like we could stop watching after Bruce welcomes Reggie VelJohnson to the party. What was I thinking?"
Chuck, smirking, nodded in agreement. "Well, now we're all set for future movie nights."
"Oh! Geez, that reminds me. I was going to do a big 'ta-da' moment after we tested the setup and give you something. Damn Bruce Willis and his Oscar worthy performance."
"Whatcha got?"
"Well, I started to do a bit of 'spring cleaning' the other day in preparation for me and Alex moving to a new place of our own and look what I found mixed in with my movies." Morgan reached into his bag and pulled out a disc in a clear clamshell case. His grin was wide as he waggled the case in his hand before handing it to Chuck. Chuck inspected it.
"Buddy, who wrote the label on the disc? Did they have a bad case of the shakes? it's practically illegi… oh, wait. Oh, wait! Is this...?"
Morgan was rocking from foot to foot with excitement. "Yep! Don't know how it ended up with me, but, of course, everything got crazy and scary that evening and who remembers what happened exactly. When I saw it mixed in with my tapes and DVDs I was sure you'd want it."
Chuck gazed at the disc that held the video montage of Sarah and him that Jeff (Jeff of all people!) had prepared for the wedding rehearsal dinner. Perhaps the only copy there was of it.
"Thanks, Morg! You know, I have very little video of Sarah and me. Just wasn't my thing. Heck, we didn't even have a videographer at the wedding." Chuck lowered his head to look at the disc and his voice softened as he became introspective. "I know Sarah and I have only been in the house a few days and I should give this whole search for her memories effort more time before I start to freak out, but I would be lying if I didn't admit that doubt is starting to creep in." Chuck paused, drew a deep breath and let it out while rubbing the back of his head with his palm. His stare returned to Morgan. "I keep hoping for a breakthrough for her memories like she had with her emotions. Each day we spend some time with me telling her about things we did, experiences we shared, over the past five years. Heck, I've got a binder where I collected most all of the pictures I have from that time of either of us or of family and friends and we've flipped through it numerous times. But nothing, she's had no new glimpses of her missing memories."
"Maybe you should have her kick your butt again. That worked here in the house once before."
Chuck smiled, appreciative of his friend's attempt to keep Chuck's mood from darkening. "Morgan, I'm getting desperate enough that I might just try it."
"Well, before that," Morgan reached over to tap the disc case in Chuck's hand, "Watch this with her. Hey, since I'm leaving, why not show it to her now?"
Chuck looked down at the disc for a long moment, "Nah, when she last checked on us she said she was tired and going to bed, that was a while ago. I'll play it for her and me tomorrow."
Morgan nodded. "It's beautiful. Better than I had remembered."
"You watched it?"
"Yeah. I was just planning on watching a minute or two, to make sure the disc was fine. Before I knew it, I had sat through the whole thing. Wow, I really have a problem not finishing a movie I've started. And Alex joined me when I was watching and she agreed it was beautiful. There might even have been some crying (by me). The point is, I have a really good feeling about this. And, Chuck, when have I steered you wrong?"
"Should I start with our elementary school days, or jump ahead to when we joined the Buy More, you know, to keep the list somewhat manageable?"
Morgan, who had begun taking a few steps outside along the front door path to depart, came to a stop and looked at Chuck. There was no sign that Morgan had anything but full confidence in what he was saying. "Magic kiss, bro. Who's idea was the magic kiss?"
Morgan turned and walked out to his car and got in. As Chuck closed the red door he thought to himself, Maybe I'll just watch the first minute or two.
~Sarah~
Sarah awoke from her sleep. Her feet had reconnoitered the other side of the bed seeking a source of heat without success. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked at Chuck's side. Empty. She needed his feet for their warmth, but also she was yearning for him, even if it was just playing footsie under the sheets. On their second night together, which followed the night of exquisite passion when they had returned from the beach, Chuck asked her if they could ease back into the physical intimacy. She thought it was a little late for that, but she agreed. It had been quaint and sweet when he asked. Now it was edging towards agonizing.
Charles Irving Bartowski was a tall drink of water that she had only been able to sip for the last couple of weeks; she thirsted for a long swig. She could have pressed the matter at any point and he might have relented like that first night, but she had decided to go along with him on this. And the intimacy had been ramping up, but oh so slowly.
So where is he? She wondered if he could still be watching a movie with Morgan. She slipped out of bed, slipped into her robe and left the bedroom for Chuck's last known location: the den. Barefooted, she moved through the house barely raising a sound. There was the telltale glow and flicker of a television screen escaping from the den's entryway as she approached. She reached the opening and peered in. No Morgan, only Chuck on the sofa absorbed by what he was watching (which her angle did not let her easily see; she could hear music, but there was no dialog). He had not noticed her.
"Chuck, why don't you come to bed." Sarah had let the words waft out in a soothing and mildly suggestive tone; startled nonetheless, Chuck's enraptured gaze at the screen snapped. He raised the remote, stopping the video as he said, "Sarah, sorry. I meant to be there a little while ago, but I started watching this." He gestured towards the television with the hand holding the remote. His expression became slightly sheepish. "Actually, I'm on my third time through." Sarah was intrigued; Chuck seemed to pick up on Sarah's quizzical look. "It's not a movie. Well, it's a movie, but it's an amateur movie, a montage that Jeff put together. Of us. For our rehearsal dinner. Morgan found it and gave it to me as he was leaving tonight, and then I was just going to take a quick peek before coming to bed." Chuck shrugged a silent apology.
"'Jeff' as in Buy More Jeff? Should I be worried? From the few stories you've told me about him and my conflicted, uneasy feelings I have when I think of him..."
"No. Not at all. It's so wonderful. Crazy sounding, I know, but true. Morgan was pretty excited about it -once he remembered he had it. After his magic kiss theory, I think he's trying to find his next great idea for your memories. I love the little guy, but I'm trying to keep my expectations in check."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, I'm starting to feel that I am being naïve, being overly optimistic about getting your memories back. And in doing so I worry I put undue pressure on you. I'm sorry for pushing you."
"Chuck, you're not pushing me. I love hearing you talk about us. I love looking at the photos of us, from goofy Halloween costumes to our wedding day finest." Chuck gave Sarah an appreciative, lopsided smile as she continued, "And this house, it's beautiful. My childhood dream house. So, since I'm awake -your fault by the way- and it's all set up, may we watch it now?" Chuck's smile broadened and he slid himself from the center of the sofa, inviting her over. Sarah joined him, nestled in close, and as she did the two leaned back with Chuck's arm around Sarah's shoulder and her head on his chest. With a couple button presses, Chuck had the video restarted from the beginning.
It was wonderful, more so than Sarah would have guessed possible. There were some pieces clearly shot without her and Chuck aware that might have seemed odd or creepy in a different context, but all together it was beautiful, moving... powerful.
Sarah picked up on movement from Chuck. "Chuck, I can feel you shaking your head. What is it?"
"Oh, just thinking about how I foolishly pinned so much of my hope for you getting your memories back on this house. When I got the message from the realtor that the house was still available I was so excited. And when we closed on the purchase I really thought I'd been handed a gift...
(...thrum...)
"...and we'd make this place your home...
(...thrummm...)
"...and of course your memories would come back. As you said, it's your childhood dream house. I know we've only just moved in and I should give it more time, but..."
"Chuck," Sarah had lifted her head and cut him off with a peck on his lips, "It's ok, let's just watch the movie. Could you start it again?"
She gave her head a quick shake before laying it back down on his chest. What was that? As Chuck had been speaking Sarah thought something had... stirred in her. It was like a buzz in her ear, a vibration in her head. Sarah slid her hands around to Chuck's back and squeezed against him as tight as she thought she could without hurting him. Even though she did not remember the moments captured in the movie she could see the love and happiness, and at that instant she desperately wanted him to know, to feel, that they were inseparable. In doing so, she had pressed her ear firmly against Chuck's chest. She could hear his heartbeat and could feel her own. The video's images, what Chuck and she had been talking about, and the heartbeats all mingled in her mind. As the video showed flashes from their life together, Sarah was certain the heartbeats were moving towards each other, overlapping and meshing. One beat seemed to answer the other and then they synchronized, perfectly, becoming inextricable and indistinguishable from each other.
She thought again: What was that? What had Chuck been saying? She attempted to replay Chuck's words from just a moment ago, yet it was not Chuck's voice that she heard in her head. Rather, it was her own, and its cadence joined that of the one, shared heartbeat.
(buh-dum) A gift.
(buh-dum) Your home.
(buh-dum) A gift.
(buh-dum) Your home.
(buh-dum) A gift.
(buh-dum) Your home.
Chuck is a gift.
Chuck is your home.
"Chuck. My home." Sarah spoke the words softly, not conscious she was saying them. Then she gasped as the floodgates once again opened. "Sweetie! Come with me!"
~Chuck~
Chuck though he had heard Sarah quietly say his name. He certainly heard her call him "Sweetie" given that she had nearly shouted it. Sweetie? When had I last heard her call me that? She was on her feet and pulling his hand to get him to follow. He was up and his feet were keeping pace with Sarah's rapid strides, but her sudden animated excitement had him nonplussed. His head was still trying to catch up when Sarah came to a stop. She was standing before the carving of their names; Chuck found himself behind her, against her back. She spoke, vibrating with every word.
"We were standing together, pretty much like this. I'd just told you I had changed, that I didn't want to go back to being a spy. I had a knife from our picnic on the floor. You asked me what I was doing and I told you I was carving our names here because we would someday own this house, that one day it would be ours. I finished my name and handed you the knife. And I said to you?"
Sarah posed the question, but her voice was triumphant, asking with a tone that left no doubt whether she knew the answer. Chuck knew, too. He wrapped his arms around Sarah and kissed the top of her head, then lobbed her question back to her. "And you said?"
"I said when this house is ours one day that I would like to always remember the moment we had our first night here."
Chuck's eyes closed and he slowly took in and let out a deep breath through parted lips. "And you remember, Sarah." Chuck took another deep, chest filling breath. "You're home."
~Sarah~
"...Your home." Sarah heard.
Sarah spun in Chuck's arms to face him. My home. "Chuck...Yes, I remember." The sensation that had come over her moments ago was not terrifying like what she had first experienced on the beach with the return of her feelings, but every bit as monumental. The deep, unequivocal emotions that had been with her since that day now found tens, hundreds, thousands of memories -the tiniest of moments and the grandest of events- to connect to and draw sense from. Look at me, Chuck. I'm here. Sarah had a vague awareness she was beaming at him.
~Chuck~
Chuck's eyes opened and they locked with Sarah's. She was smiling at him. Oh. My. God. That smile. The smile. Sarah had stolen his heart a thousand times over with her smile, with her wondrous, mesmerizing smile. But this one is... it is... it… Chuck's head was swirling, and in that moment a line from a beloved movie came to him in which the storyteller spoke of the five most pure kisses, since the invention of the kiss, all being left behind by the one then unfolding on the screen. But Chuck's storyteller was not speaking of kisses, he instead spoke of smiles. And the wise voice was announcing that this smile from the woman that Chuck loved and who loved him back was the most beautiful, most perfect smile in the history of smiles. That a truer declaration had ever been made was, to Chuck, inconceivable.
Sarah cupped the back of Chuck's neck with her hands. His eyes blinked rapidly as they filled with and then spilled tears. Rising up on her toes, she drew his cheek to hers; his joyful tears were joined by her own. Sarah's lips were close to his ear. She whispered, "You keep finding me, Chuck." Their cheeks parted as Sarah settled back on her feet. She let her hands slide forward to Chuck's face and gently wiped away their commingled tears with her thumbs. Her blue eyes were glistening and she was excited. "Sweetie, where's that binder?"
"Back in the den." Sarah strode back to the den with Chuck once again at her heels. She took a quick glance around the room, spied the binder, grabbed it and sat back down on the sofa. She was already flipping to the first page when Chuck plopped down beside her. With an eagerness and energy like a child excited to tell her parents about her first day at elementary school, Sarah began to speak quickly, chronicling everything she remembered about the events captured in the photos.
Sarah Bartowski was telling their story.
Most Chuck knew (of course), but throughout she surprised him with little details he had forgotten or never knew. He was unsure how much time had passed -maybe an hour, maybe two- when Sarah finished the last page and closed the binder. Chuck rolled his head. He felt light. A tension, a cloud, that had been lurking within his head for the past few weeks was gone. The corners of his mouth did however slightly ache; he realized he must have been grinning ear-to-ear the entire time that Sarah was recounting what she remembered. He turned back to Sarah with a broad smile on his face (it was a good ache, he did not mind), expecting to find her with the same, but instead she was drumming her fingers on the binder cover, staring at him through narrowed eyes, her mouth pinched.
"Uh, what is it?" Chuck asked hesitantly.
"I remembered something."
"You certainly did. Many, many things."
"No, I remembered something else, a different binder."
Chuck was confused. "Huh?"
"Tits? Really? Oh, I bet you and Morgan thought yourselves so clever."
Chuck burst into laughter and as he did Sarah's exaggerated expression of disapproval slipped, the corners of her mouth turning up in a smile. "Well, huh," Chuck said, "Not a memory I thought this binder would stir up. As for the Tee, Eye and the rest, you have to remember, it was an acronym. It had little dots."
Chuck's laughter began again as Sarah playfully slapped his chest, but he swallowed the last of it as he realized she was now intently looking at him. He was spellbound by what he saw in her blue eyes -a decision had been made. "Do you remember our last happy moment before Quinn tried to come between us, Chuck? Because I do: We were sitting in bed together on the bullet train and you were drawing a picture, a picture of you and me in front of this house. But you didn't stop there. Do you remember how you finished that drawing?"
Chuck's pulse began to quicken. "I had drawn… a small bundle." I drew us with a baby.
Sarah smirked at Chuck's cagey reply. "You drew us with a baby, and we both said 'someday.' Well, Chuck, my head is clear and my heart is sure, and they are both telling me 'someday' is today. We're together. We have the house. Let's finish that drawing."
Sarah continued to stare into Chuck's now wide eyes. After a moment she began scrunching and unscrunching her brow and squinting her eyes. Chuck had been both thrilled and struck dumb by what Sarah was saying. Now he was perplexed by what he saw. He regained his voice.
"Why are you making that face?"
"It's not supposed to be a 'face.' It's the Bartowski eyebrow dance." Sarah's expression was now a mixture of frustration and mirth.
"Oh, Honey, that needs work."
"How's this then?" Sarah lowered her chin, peered at Chuck through her eyelashes with an expression that was shimmering heat, passionate and intense. It promised -practically threatened- that marvelous bliss lay ahead. Oh, boy! Something… stirred for Chuck. There was definitely a stirring.
Sarah stood -Chuck's eyes following her every movement- and slowly stretched one arm towards him and beckoned with her index finger. Without a word, she turned on her heels and slowly walked towards the bedroom. Chuck noticed she did not look back. She knows I will follow; she saw my decision in my eyes. Chuck was grinning ear-to-ear again as he followed behind. Sarah reached the doorway of their bedroom and stopped, her hands to her back, open, fingers splayed. Chuck came up behind her and interlaced his fingers in hers. Sarah turned her head to look over her shoulder at him.
"If we have a daughter, Chuck, I would like her to take ballet."
They gently kissed and then entered the bedroom.
It was time to make new memories.
THE END
xXXXx
A/N: Thank you very much for reading and a special thanks to those who have left reviews and/or exchanged PMs with me. Writing the story is a satisfying experience, but the reaction from/interaction with readers has proven to be the biggest delight in doing this. So please do consider leaving a review, or dropping me a PM if you have not done so already (or even if you have).
A huge thank you to WillieGarvin for letting my tie my story to his story "Sarah vs the Kiss" (SvtK), for his enthusiastic support, for repeatedly reviewing drafts and for putting up with a deluge of PMs during my effort to write this. I originally started drafting this story because I thought I wanted to tell how my favorite fictional couple ended up in the red doored house, but the influence of SvtK led me to realize quickly that what mattered most to me was how, after getting her feelings back, the two got Sarah her memories back and the house just came along for the ride (in the story I wrote before this one, I had simply assumed she had her memories back). In the end, I felt the home that mattered most was the one Sarah had in Chuck (the "You're home" said/"Your home" heard in the story was not a typo :-) ).
Thanks to Zettel, who has stimulated my thinking about "Chuck" and beta'd parts of this story, helping to make those parts tighter.
Thanks to David Carner for his beta work on parts of this story and more generally for being so crazy generous with how much he gives to "Chuck" fanfic readers.
I attempted to stay faithful to the television show and to SvtK, so recalls of events or dialog that occurred prior to the time of my story can be found in the episodes (for example, the conversation Ellie had with Chuck in his bedroom in the series finale that Ellie reminds Chuck about in my story) or SvtK. Perhaps the most significant recall of show dialog being the "gift" and "home" that Sarah hears herself describing Chuck as. (Characters wouldn't necessarily have verbatim recollection of past conversations, so at times they may naturally paraphrase.)
The VelJohnson mention was a bit of realities collide fun. The actor appeared in an episode of "Chuck" and his character was a police officer with the same name as the character in "Die Hard" (Al Powell). That potentially means "Chuck" exists in a universe where the events of "Die Hard" were real, which, if that's the case, means the "Die Hard" that Chuck and Morgan were watching was some alternate universe "Die Hard." Uh, maybe? I'll let someone else figure that out.