Author's Note: This is my first fanfic in a while as well as my first in this fandom, but it's hardly my first. Feel free to comment, critique, and/or condemn whenever appropriate.

Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue, I'm just borrowing Chuck from its rightful owners, so please don't sue.

Chuck Versus the Reunion

"Chuck, I think it's time."

Chuck rubbed the sandy feeling from his eyes and sighed. "Time for what, Morgan?"

He heard Morgan take a deep breath and count to three. "I think it's time to put your foot down, Chuck. It's time to tell Sarah to come home and stay this time so she can fall in love with you again."

I don't need this. Not today. He'd already gone through a long phone lecture from Ellie, a pep talk from Awesome, and a frighteningly earnest abduction offer from his mother. Even if his mother hadn't been serious, that had been the final straw. But this was Morgan, he told himself. And Morgan was...well, Morgan.

Chuck craned his neck to peek through two of the four monitors which lined his desk, meeting his best friend's intent gaze. "Can we do this later? No offense, buddy, but I'm kinda in the middle of a cyber war with China at the moment."

"And that's more important than winning back your wife?"

Chuck inhaled and forced his face to remain impassive. "Unfortunately, yes."

"Dude, what happened to you?" Morgan stood up and rounded the desk, shoving a stack of folders out of the way so he could sit down. "I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm glad you haven't totally spiraled to the old dark place, but this is almost as bad. It's like it's another place. The new dark place."

"Where is that, exactly? Because it kinda looks like my office to me."

"Yeah, which you almost never leave anymore."

Chuck shook his head and swiveled his chair to look at Morgan. "I'm working! That's what grown-ups do, Morgan. We have to go to work and...work." He cleared his throat, immediately feeling guilty that he'd raised his voice. After all, he knew Morgan had his best interests at heart.

Morgan didn't look bothered, and he didn't budge. Against his better judgment Chuck finally slumped back. "Look, I appreciate your concern, but I can't force Sarah to do something she's not ready to do yet. I promised her that I would be patient and wait for her to figure things out."

Morgan's face fell. "I know, man, but it's been over two years since she lost her memory, and in that time you've only seen her...what? Three, maybe four times? And it's only because she rejoined the CIA, and Beckman orders her to get your help on a mission."

Chuck unwillingly glanced at his desk calendar. Good intentions or no, he couldn't have this discussion again. Not today. Not even with Morgan. "Look, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I have to finish this before I fly out to DC tomorrow. We'll talk when we get back, okay, buddy? Just...not today."

Chuck got up to get more coffee. He understood Morgan's disappointment with his attitude. "I'm gonna get a drink. You want one? I even stocked grape soda just for you," he offered, hoping it would take some of the sting away. When he turned back, he saw Morgan staring at the same calendar on his desk.

When Morgan looked back up, the man looked horrified. "Dude...I'm so sorry. I can't believe I forgot what today was."

Chuck groaned and shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to make Morgan feel bad. It wasn't like he advertised it either. After last year's debacle when Morgan tried to keep his spirits up, Chuck had intentionally kept it extra quiet this year. "It's okay, buddy..."

"No, it's not. God, I'm such a jerk," Morgan moaned. The smaller man jumped up awkwardly, straightened out his suit, and jogged to Chuck's side. "Forget I said anything. New plan. You know what you need?" Morgan asked, poking Chuck's arm.

"No, seriously, Morgan. It's okay..."

"You need a game night. Just you and me. Huh? Huh? Am I right, or am I right?"

Chuck paused his initial denial. That...actually didn't sound too bad, and God knew he didn't want to be home alone all evening. It had been ages since they'd had game night anyway. Except... "I still need to go over the information for tomorrow. And what about Alex? Didn't you guys have a thing planned?"

Morgan clucked his tongue. "Alex will totally understand. Don't worry about that. And you can read up on the new assignment tomorrow on the plane." Morgan put on his best puppy dog begging face. "So, what do ya say? Your place, seven o'clock. We can snipe some bishes in Halo, mix it up with a Fable chicken kicking contest..."

Chuck tilted his head. "I do love chicken kicking."

"Who doesn't? I'll bring the meatball marinara and sizzling shrimp if you bring the sodas and Chardonnay. It'll be just like old times."

All responsibilities aside, Chuck realized he did need something other than work to do for just a little while. "You're right, Morgan." Chuck nodded and patted Morgan's back. "Let's do it. I'll finish this up here and meet you at seven. Thanks, buddy."

"Hey, what are best friends for, right? You do your thing, and I'll call Alex and let her know about tonight."

As she came to, Sarah realized several things at once. First, the splitting headache meant she'd been tranqued. When she opened her eyes, all she saw was black. The stale air and fibery taste in her mouth confirmed that she still had some kind of cloth bag over her head. Both her hands and feet were tightly bound, and she'd been dumped onto a mattress of some kind. She could hear a soft voice in the background and wondered if Casey was in a similar predicament, or if he'd been killed.

She ignored that unpleasant possibility for the moment. Blinking away the grogginess, Sarah remained still as she tried to figure out how she got captured after what she'd thought was a successful mission. She'd gotten into the terrorists' encampment undetected. She'd grabbed the flash drive from a portable safe while Casey set charges around the enemy's makeshift barracks. They'd fled to the perimeter and watched the entire place go up like the fourth of July. They had been together when they got to the Jeep, but after that...

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut and tried to remember what happened next. She never saw anyone near their getaway vehicle. She remembered Casey saying...something. What did he say? Something about a new mission, or about needing to be somewhere. It was right there, just at the edge of her consciousness...

"We need to move. You have somewhere to be tomorrow."

"Where?"

"Burbank."

Sarah frowned. "Beckman didn't say anything about that for this mission."

"It's not about the mission."

"Then I'm not going." She tensed. Something was wrong.

Casey grunted. "I figured you'd say that."

Then she remembered the sting in her arm before it went dark. "Son of a..." Casey had knocked her out and taken her as a hostage. It didn't make sense. Although she didn't remember their first five years together as partners, Sarah had come to rely on Casey since returning to the CIA and being paired with him again. She even trusted him to some degree. Too much, obviously.

She wasn't about to dwell on it. After all she was, first and foremost, a spy. Sarah immediately shook the bag off her head and began working her way out of her restraints. She surveyed the hotel room around her at the same time. To her dismay, Casey proved proficient as usual with his knots, and after several minutes she acquiesced, settling for moving to a sitting position, intending to find something sharp to cut her bonds. Then the door opened, and she froze as Casey walked in, one hand on his gun and the other holding a phone to his ear.

"Tell the moron I'm way ahead of him," Casey growled into the phone. A minute passed. "Yeah, we're already here, so you just make sure that idiot knows what to do when we get there. I'll handle Walker."

Casey hung up the phone and drug a chair over in front of her, but just out of reach. Sarah considered going for it, but Casey was a tough target. And the comment about handling her piqued her curiosity just enough to buy him a few minutes to explain before she killed him.

"You're awake," Casey grumbled.

"You kidnapped me, and you're conspiring with whoever was on that call. As soon as I'm free, all of you are going down for treason. Or you'll be dead. I haven't decided yet."

Casey snorted. "First part's true. I told you we had somewhere to be today. I just made sure you got here."

Sarah looked around the room again. She noticed the open drapes and finally recognized the skyline outside. "And I told you that I wasn't going to Los Angeles, so why are we here?" Sarah narrowed her eyes, promising Casey imminent death if she didn't like his answer.

"Because it's your anniversary."

Suddenly Sarah wished Casey had used a bullet instead of dropping that bomb on her. Apparently her expression gave it away, because Casey finally moved within her reach. She didn't move though, still too shocked to react. Casey cut the tie around her feet first and finally released her hands. As soon as he finished, he took his seat again and waited. Sarah rubbed her wrists; Casey really was amazing. She didn't even have a mark on her that she could see other than ones she'd caused herself. He'd obviously taken great care to ensure he didn't actually hurt her in transit.

Sarah tried to remember that she had a right to be angry. "Why didn't you just tell me that."

Casey offered a minute shrug. "Would you have come?"

She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. No, she knew. She definitely would not have come. Not when she knew what might happen if she put herself in that position. Chuck did that to her every time, made her...feel things...things that just didn't mix with the spy she remembered herself to be.

Casey nodded, his visage growing stern. "It's time, Walker. You're his wife. You either need to go back and work it out, or you need to cut him loose."

Sarah squirmed before she realized it and jumped up instead and started pacing. "It's not that simple, Casey. I still don't -"

"You don't remember." Casey snorted. "You probably never will. But that idiot will wait forever if you let him. Bartowski deserves better than that, Walker. We owe him better. It's time."

Sarah spun on Casey. "We?"

"Yeah, we." Casey stood as well. "I did my part. Now get dressed and do yours. I'll be in the car."

Sarah was about to mention the issue of getting dressed when Casey thumbed toward the corner of the room. There was her suitcase, and with it overrode her last good excuse to stall. Sarah knew she could run of course, but...

"We owe him better than that. It's time."

Sarah swallowed hard and watched Casey leave the room before flopping back onto the bed. She hated it, the strange sensation of nervousness that accompanied any upcoming visit with her stranger-husband. She'd already been pushing it back, knowing she was due to see him in DC for a joint operation the next day. And it wasn't Chuck's fault of course, but he just always seemed to melt her down so fast. None of her training had prepared her for someone who could do that so well. Even seduction academy hadn't covered managing another person who could be so genuine all the time, in everything he did. She wished she had the memory to fall back on, of their time when Chuck Bartowski was still her asset. Surely she'd stayed professional in the beginning. Her video log had her admitting falling for him into their second year together. She'd still looked like herself in the Week Three entry, right? Well, mostly anyway. Then there was the entry about their first real kiss. The one she'd initiated.

Had she loved him already? Had it really happened that fast?

It did. You don't remember it, but you felt it on the beach that day. You feel it every time you've seen him since then.

Sarah took a steadying breath. Casey was right. She still didn't feel ready, but the truth was she probably never would be ready. She'd become a different person over the five years she couldn't remember now. Perhaps instead of running away from it, she needed to face it head on and see what that meant. What it really meant, and if, just maybe, she could reconcile it once again with the spy she was. If she could, then she might just have a shot at a life she'd never believed possible for someone like her, the one Quinn had tried to steal from her. And if not...

Again, Casey was right. Chuck would probably wait no matter what, for as long as it took, and she didn't have to know him intimately to understand that he did indeed deserve better than remaining devoted and pining for an absentee wife. With that decided, Sarah went to her suitcase. She picked out a simple blouse and blue jeans, slipped them on over her body armor and touched up her makeup. She considered her accessories for a minute before settling on sandals, plain gold jewelry and a small knife hidden at her back. She tucked her phone into one pocket and her gun into her waistband.

With a final inspection, Sarah found Casey puffing on a cigar against the back door of his Vic. He nodded once and opened the door for her.

Once they neared Echo Park, Sarah's guts began to twist up all over again. It was the anniversary of the wedding she couldn't even remember. Sarah counted it back quickly. Third anniversary. Weren't there gift themes for the years? What was it for the third? And did it count if she hadn't even given him anything for the first or second ones? Should she cover those too?

"Casey, should I get him a gift? I mean, it's a wedding anniversary, so I should get him a gift," she blurted out suddenly. "We have to turn around. Right now."

They pulled into the apartment's parking lot, and Casey parked before turning back to her. "I told Bartowski something once. A little secret. Now I'm gonna tell you."

Sarah fought back the sour taste in the back of her throat. "Okay. What's that?"

"All he needs is the girl. Now get in there."

Chuck raised an eyebrow as Morgan scurried around his living room, obviously distressed. "You okay, buddy?"

Morgan jumped and turned his excessively wide eyes toward Chuck. "Yeah, of course." A twitter like laugh. "Why wouldn't I be? I mean, it's game night! We have subs and sizzling shrimp and soda and Chardonnay and candles... Wait, my groove just got messed up there..."

The other eyebrow joined the first. Morgan was many things, but subtle wasn't one of them. He was up to something, and usually the octave of his voice indicated just how big it might be. And Morgan was practically squeaking. "Morgan..."

"Yeah, Chuck. My buddy." Morgan ran up and play jabbed him in the stomach a few times. "My buddy, my man, my Han..."

Oh no. No, no, no. "Morgan," Chuck intoned again slowly through clenched teeth, "what did you do?"

"Who, me?" Morgan jumped back. "Nothing, dude! I'm just excited! It's game night! We love game night, right?"

Chuck stepped forward, and for each step Morgan ran back two more until the smaller man bumped against the door and yelped. Chuck didn't relent. "Morgan, I swear to God, if you flew Jeffster back in again this year, or you set up another pudding Slip-and-Slide in the courtyard, or -"

"No, no, nothing like that," Morgan replied quickly. Then he frowned. "But for the record, the Slip-and-Slide would've worked if it wasn't for Lester's weird goat milk thing."

"Morgan!"

Finally Morgan stiffened his back and stared Chuck right in the eye, his face oddly serious and sending Chuck back a step. "Look, it wasn't my idea, but it had to be done. You'll thank us later."

In the moment it took Chuck to process the transformation, Morgan bolted out the door. Chuck blinked before following. Morgan had stopped at the fountain, but Chuck froze when he saw Morgan wasn't alone. Behind him, shifting her weight from one foot to another... The name came out of him as if someone had vacuumed it straight out of his lungs.

"Sarah..."

"Hi, Chuck." Morgan scurried out of the way, leaving the path between them clear. Sarah closed the distance after a minute's hesitation. Then she unwound her hands. "Um...can I come in?"

"Oh...oh yeah, yeah, of course, of course, yeah...come...come in," Chuck managed. He was stammering; he knew it, but he couldn't seem to recall the majority of his vocabulary at that moment. He was still too overwhelmed by Sarah's unexpected presence, the close proximity, the way she looked almost as uncomfortable as he was tongue tied as she moved out of the doorway and into the apartment.

The last observation cleared his head, if only a little bit. Chuck shut the door and used it as a prop while he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. If he didn't, he'd probably grab her and squeeze her half to death, and she just didn't look up for that at the moment. And then there was the whole gun in her waistband...

"So," he began, watching her as she seemed to inspect the room, "um...I know we're supposed to meet in DC tomorrow. But you're...here. Today." On our anniversary. Did you remember? Please say you remembered...

Sarah had stopped and stared at their wedding photo on the bookshelf. Chuck felt that small balloon of hope he'd had for a second deflate just as fast. He didn't have to hear her say it. He didn't have to be a spy to confirm that no, she hadn't remembered their anniversary. The way she focused on that photo, as if she could learn something from it if she looked hard enough, gave it away.

But it wasn't her fault, so Chuck regrouped quickly, careful not to sound disappointed. "Right. So...did you need to see me before the meeting tomorrow? Since...you know... you're here...today." Why couldn't he stop mentioning that? He needed to be cool about it. Sarah didn't remember, but that was okay. She probably didn't even know what day it was. That was okay too. No matter what, he would make himself be okay with it. Anything not to scare her away.

Sarah finally looked away from the photo and back to him, and Chuck's breath caught when he noticed how shiny her eyes were.

"Casey told me what today is," she said softly. She opened her arms before shoving her own hands into her pockets. "I'm sorry. I didn't get you anything. I should have..."

"No, no, it's okay," Chuck breathed, rushing forward. "Truth is, I didn't expect this, so I didn't get you anything either." Then he jumped. "Oh, wait, I do have something for you."

Sarah opened her mouth to stop him, but he was already rushing off. He stopped at the ottoman in front of the couch, punched in a code, and lifted the cushion. Sarah made her way over and felt her mouth drop open at the array of weapons and gadgets inside. "Wow, Chuck..."

Chuck stopped digging long enough to give her a guilty grin. "Yeah, you know, twenty-five foot rule. Old habits, I guess." Then he lifted a few cases until he produced two boxes. Once he replaced everything, dropping the two still wrapped boxes onto the sofa. "Please, go ahead, open them."

Sarah sat down and picked up the larger of the two packages, unwrapping it carefully. The plain brown box contained an exquisite set of throwing knives, slimmer, lighter, and even more balanced than her CIA issued set. The holster even adjusted so that she could wear it on her ankle or her thigh. "These are amazing, Chuck," she whispered honestly. "Thank you."

"Yeah, well, yours are kinda outdated, and I figured with the government budget cuts the past couple years..."

Sarah laughed despite her anxiousness. It was the perfect spy gift from the most un-spyish guy she could imagine.

"Um, the next one's better," Chuck prompted as he pointed to the smaller package. "Or I think it's pretty cool, but maybe that's just the nerd in me."

Sarah set the knives aside and unwrapped the second box quickly. The item inside looked like some kind of large screen smart phone. Considering the source however, Sarah figured there was more to it. "What is it?"

"Um, well..." Chuck sat down beside her and took the unit, hitting the small button on the top to turn it on. "It's an all-in-one security cracker. Basically," he began, revealing the panel that slid down in the back," it can connect to anything without extra tools, and it can hack into any system. Or any system I can hack anyway, which is...pretty much all of them." He quickly explained the connectors, the programmable skeleton key card, the trojan program to circumvent security feeds – closed and open circuits – along with a multitude of other features.

"How did you get this?" Sarah breathed, awed by the level of tech in such a small package. "I mean, did you get this from the CIA? DARPA?"

"No, although DARPA's been hounding me for schematics since they caught wind of it during the test phase." Chuck settled back. "It's a one-of-a-kind. After your close call in Paraguay, I realized you needed something that worked kind of like the Intersect when cracking systems. And since..." Since you didn't want me with you...

Sarah frowned. "Paraguay was right after I rejoined the CIA, Chuck. How did you know about that mission?"

Chuck wasn't about to admit that he used his backdoor access to get reports on all of her missions, so he elected to offer the other half of the truth. "Well, I still have top level clearance, and Beckman is surprisingly good about letting me know that you're safe, or if you have a close call. Anyway," he went on, clearing his throat, "I built this for you." He produced a small typed manual from the bottom of the box and gave it to her. "It's all in there, and of course you have the benefit of Carmichael Industries' twenty-four hour tech support line. Assuming you still have my number," he added with a chuckle. "Oh, and it works as an encrypted SAT phone too that you can piggyback onto any government satellite without being detected. And you of course can always use mine in a pinch."

Sarah's eyes widened. "You own a satellite?"

"Yes. Yes, I do," Chuck replied. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"How?"

"Hm...that's kind of a long, funny story, actually." Chuck stiffened. "And it involves a lot of...us...stuff. From when we were married, and some stuff from after you left. You probably don't wanna hear it -"

"I do want to hear it," Sarah interrupted. And she realized suddenly that she did. She might have been alarmed at how much she wanted to hear it, except she was holding a multi-million dollar piece of specialized tech in her hand, crafted just for her by this man. By her husband. "Tell me."

"Okay, but I want you to promise me something in return," Chuck said.

Sarah twitched. "What?"

"I'll tell you about this if you promise to tell me about what you've been doing the past two years. If you're finding what you've been looking for." After several moments of heavy silence, Chuck let out a quick chuckle. "And we eat while we talk, because I'm starving. And since Morgan brought the shrimp, and we have the wine already... No need for it to go to waste, right?"

Sarah clamped her mouth shut for a second, reminding herself not to show too much emotion. Spies kept those things close, because when they didn't, it caused nothing but problems. Except it was her wedding anniversary, and even though she couldn't remember, she felt like a part of her still did. And somehow, at some point in their past, this feeling hadn't been a problem at all. It had given her something that almost looked like it had been a real life, even as a spy.

"Okay," she finally answered softly. "You're right, let's talk. And eat," she added quickly as he handed her a carton of shrimp and a pair of chopsticks. "Chuck?"

"Yeah?"

Sarah smiled, her first real one in months. "Happy anniversary."

She knew her smile was real, but it was nothing compared to his. Yeah, she could definitely see herself falling in love with that smile...

"Happy anniversary, Sarah."

Author's Note #2: Originally I planned this as a multi-chapter story, but upon further reflection I've decided to leave it as a one-shot. What would have been future chapters will now, most likely, just be little ficlets like this one that build on each other. But we'll see. My feet have now been wetted; I hope you enjoyed it. Again, all feedback is welcomed and appreciated. Thank you for reading. :)