A few ideas for Sarah Walker : Broken Beyond Repair Capter 2-maybe

Well, tonight's the night that the 'Chuckverse' comes to a close...ain't life grand. Thought I'd try putting  down a few paragraphs for a possible second chapter for Sarah Walker : Broken Beyond Repair?....

 Agent Sarah Walker sat with her back inches away from the back of the couch while she stared out of the one window in the waiting area. She watched the clouds as they drifted across the brilliantly blue sky and almost let herself wonder what a certain nerd might tell her the shapes looked like but she blinked once and then twice, shutting down the avenue that had become an all too familiar street in her thoughts since...'no' she told herself, blinking again and choosing to drop her gaze to her hands. Her fingers were intertwined and her hands gently rested on the handle of the cane that had become her constant companion since...'No!' she chastised herself again.

 Her peripheral vision was keeping her constantly aware of everything around her and she knew that nothing could change without her being aware of it. Her spy senses, thanks to years of training and practical use were sharpened to such a degree that they bordered on, and often crossed over into hyper vigilance. She knew that the of the six magazines that were spread out on the coffee table in front of her, three were seriously out of date, two had been brought in by the middle aged woman who sat behind the desk that was exactly 4.2 feet to her right and the cover of the final one had a picture of the actor who was the star of a movie that had been on the list of films that she was supposed to have gone to see with...'NO!' she silently screamed at herself.

 Six and a half months ago, her heightened awareness was something that she never had to concentrate on, it just was part of what had made her one of the brightest up and coming 'stars' in the CIA but these days she found herself having to concentrate just a little bit more than she liked, sometimes even losing focus for a second or two before catching herself and then locking back in.

 She would never tell her mandated psychiatrist that whenever she'd lose focus, it was due to a stray thought that somehow would tie itself to a pair of brown eyes and curly...'no, please' she pleaded with herself, sure that the secretary, who hadn't looked her way since she took her seat, would notice that she seemed to blink her eyes too often. 'Later' she promised herself, knowing full well that her dreams would once again be haunted and she'd awaken with either a strangled scream, full of hurt, still echoing from the walls of her apartment or her blue eyes would be rimmed in red, moist from tears, or as was often the case, both.

 "The director will see you now" a voice announced and Sarah almost flinched, realizing that she'd drifted again, failing to notice when the woman had received the summons she'd just relayed.

 Getting to her feet, the cane in her hands helping more than she cared to admit, she crossed the small room without a word and walked though the now open door that lead to Director Langstom Graham's office.

 'When did that open?' she asked herself, startled to find, yet again, that she'd drifted.

 "Have a seat, Sarah" the big man said with a quick eye movement that directed her towards one of the two chairs that faced his desk. "How's the therapy going?"

 'Well, straight to it' she told herself as she took a moment to collect herself while she lowered herself into the proffered chair. "Very good, sir" she answered, stretching the truth just a little.

 "Really Sarah?" he replied, his eyes softening just a little after witnessing the barely noticeable flinch when Sarah's knee bent to allow her to sit.

 "Yes sir. The doctors keep telling me I'm doing much better than they expected" she answered, the 'due to the amount of damage' that the doctors always added, being left unsaid.

 "Sarah, we both know that while you're passing expectations, you're not going to make a full recovery..."

 "I am, sir" she interrupted, suddenly wishing that the words she spoke were the truth, but she was enough of a realist to know that she might never be 100% ever again.

 "Be that as it may, we have to face the very real possibility that you might not make it back into the field and..."

 "Sir!"

 "Sarah, please, you and I have known each other too long and the fact is that your knee will never be strong enough to allow you to re-qualify for field work. I know you'll insist on trying and, if by some miracle, in six months, you pass, I'll be very happy to be proven wrong. Until then, I...we need to decide what you want to do. Your knowledge could be invaluable to new agents and I'd like you to consider finishing your rehab at the farm. You would still have the best care and could help shape the agents that will be taking the fight to Fulcrum" he finished and seemed to lean back just a little despite the fact that he hadn't moved since she'd walked in.

 Sarah sat stunned, the words her mentor had spoken striking against her hopes and the mention of Fulcrum reminding her of the failure that still haunted her and almost breaking her control. 'NO!!' she screamed to herself again, beating imaginary fists against the lid that she tried to keep on the box that contained the memories of Charles Irving Bartowski.

 She'd been cleared of any failure when she'd been called before a CIA review board almost a month after the helicopter had plunged into the bay. John Casey had supported the findings, surprising her with the almost glowing report he'd offered in support of her actions, but she continued to blame herself, knowing that the only court that mattered was the one that she fought whenever something reminded her of Chuck.

 She still failed to understand why she was so deeply affected by a man she'd known for such a short time. She spent much more time than she tought was reasonable, asking herself that question and had yet to come up with an answer that made any kind of sense.

 "Can I think about it sir? Or is it an order?" she asked, sure that her inner battle was safely hidden by the mask of indifference she wore whenever she left her apartment.

 She already knew the answer, hoping that maybe a change of scenary and a partial return to the only world she'd known for years would help her find some answers...or maybe help her find a way to secure that 'lid' a little tighter.

 "No, it's not an order, Sarah. I just think it might be good for you" he answered with a voice softer than she'd ever heard him use.

 "Is there anything else, sir?" she asked and slowly got to her feet when he gave a shake of his head. "Well, in that case, I'll give you my answer tomorrow, sir" she said before turning and making her way out of the office. As she made her way through the office she happened to notice the magazine cover that featured the piture of the actor and memories of the movie she was supposed to see and the man she was suppoed to see it with once again beat at the lid of the box and she quickened her pace, pausing only once she felt the outer office door close behind. "No" she whispered to herself, blinking her eyes several times, beating on the lid of the box of memories and struggling to hold back the tears that were threatening to make a daylight appearence.

 "No" she said again and then, after taking a deep breath, resumed her short journey to the elevator that would take her to the lobby. Once there, she'd make it to the main entrance and, once through the checkpoints, she'd be outside and heading to her apartment.

 'It's gonna be a long night' she told herself, sure that her dreams would feature a tall, curly-headed man whose brown eyes, she was afraid, would haunt her forever.



So, any thoughts?       JT