Hey all, first Chuck fic here. This was started entirely on a whim based on the fact that Yvonne Strahovski looks, in my opinion, almost identical to Kate Winslet and Julia Stiles, so they're playing the roles in my head. Plus I've always been curious about the "sister" that she mentioned in "vs. the Wookie." It's loosely plotted out and quite a fun, light thing to write, so hopefully postings shall come. But damned if Sarah isn't the most difficult female character I've ever written. And I've written Temperance Brennan, so that's really saying something. And for those who got an author alert for Bones, don't worry, I'm still plowing away at "Slouching Towards Bethlehem." Anyways, please read and review!

A/N, June 2010: Hey guys, I've revamped the first four chapters to go AU at the end of S3...Thanks!

July 2011

Sarah cut the engine on the Porsche and leaned back in the seat. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

"You good?" Chuck asked beside her.

She stared at the house. It was nice. Gorgeous, actually — Arts and Crafts, she thought was the name for its style. It was an older split-level, probably built right after the earthquake, but clearly remodeled and well-cared-for. It was painted a shade close to slate and had a rust-colored door. There was a garden. A porch. There was actually a tricycle on the porch. It was almost mockingly beautiful.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I am."

"You sure you still want me to come with?" he asked, his hand resting on the door's handle. "I can take the car and go get coffee. It's San Francisco; there's got to be something good nearby."

"No. You let me come when we tracked down your family, so…" Instead of finishing the sentence, she yanked her door open. "How much do you think this place cost?" she muttered.

"You know, we could have looked that up too," he said lightly.

"I think we snooped plenty," Sarah replied, wiping her palms on her jeans. "Ready?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Yes. I said that."

"So did I. But you asked again, so I figured, you know, why not?"

Rolling her eyes, she marched toward the door. Chuck followed quickly. She rapped the door smartly once, twice.

To her surprise, a little girl, about six and with red hair and the deepest blue eyes, answered the door. "Hello?" she asked. "You're not Carmen and her mommy."

"Uh, no," Sarah said. "But is your mommy around?"

"Of course," she said. "Mommy! There's a strange lady and a strange man at the door!"

"Oh, lord," Sarah said.

"Relax, you're probably her aunt," Chuck said lowly from behind her.

"What, Emma?" a woman's voice yelled, and suddenly a willowy, medium-height blonde in white capris and a fitted blue flannel shirt emerged from some other room. "Oh, my god." She blinked, then blanched, then gripped her daughter's thin shoulders for support. "Samantha?"

"Yeah," Sarah let out a shaky, tremulous breath. "Hi, Andi."

Two months earlier

Sarah knocked the shot back, then lazily twirled the glass before setting it down upside down. A lone drop of tequila trickled down the side and slide onto the bar's sticky counter. Wait. The three shot glasses weren't in line. That needed to be fixed.

"I can't believe I'm gonna be an uncle," Chuck said, stretching a bit next to her.

"It's going to be a gorgeous baby," she said, trying to arrange the glasses. Her mind felt weirdly … full. And fuzzy. It could be the alcohol. After all, she had a fairly low tolerance because she rarely drank much, and tonight she'd had a lot. She'd been drinking for two, because Ellie couldn't drink. And she was being nice, because Ellie loved wine. So she was just doing the friendly thing, drinking it quickly so Ellie wouldn't get sad. Sad Ellie was bad. But the fuzzies had started before that. They'd started when Ellie had gripped Devon's hand and cried, "We're pregnant, you guys!" in that happy, joyful, Ellie tone.

"I could be an aunt," she said, staring at the upturned glasses.

"Sarah, you'll totally be an aunt."

"No. I mean. I could already be an aunt. To other small … humans." She concentrated on the glasses some more, literally too afraid to look at him.

He did a very poor job of concealing his jaw dropping. "What? That sister you mentioned once, that was … that wasn't part of the cover?"

"No, Chuck. It wasn't. You know the best cover is one that's mostly true," she huffed. Honestly. He'd been involved in espionage for nearly four years now. He should realize these things.

"Hey, sorry. You never brought her up, your dad never brought her up. … Why don't you tell me about her?" He touched her shoulder gently.

"Them," she corrected. "Another shot, please."

"Them?"

"Yes. I have two sisters. They're both older. Jamie was two years older than me, and Andi was three years older than Jamie. My dad liked boys' names for girls."

"Look, Sarah, I'm not … just, why haven't you mentioned them to me?" She could hear the unspoken We've been together for over a year, we're getting married, don't you trust me, what happened to honesty?

"I'm … Look, I'm sorry. I haven't seen them since I was 10."

"What, uh, what happened to them?" Chuck said nervously, smacking his lips together.

She sighed. He deserved this. Hell, she deserved this. But that didn't make it easier.

"I mean, nothing exciting. We were pretty normal for a while. It was us, Mom, Dad. We didn't know what Dad really did; he was gone a lot. I was a total Daddy's girl, we all were, but me the most. But we were with Mom most of the time. She … she ran a dance studio, that's what I remember most about her. She taught us to dance," she smiled sadly. It almost hurt to smile. "When I was nine, right after fourth grade started, she was killed in a car accident, going to pick up Andi from cheerleading. Dad tried to keep us together for a few months, but eventually he dropped us with our grandparents in New Jersey. I … It really upset me. I tried to find him. I ran away, made it on my own for five days. But I had to go back. So then I ran away again, to find him. I couldn't. He said he'd come back for us every few months, and so when he came back the first time I pretended to be too upset to see him leave that I couldn't say good-bye, and I hid in the trunk. I stayed there till he hit Ohio, too. After he found me, he told me I had spunk and I convinced him to let me stay. All I wanted to do was stay. So he did. But every time I asked to go back he said we couldn't. He convinced me it was too dangerous. And it probably was, so I eventually stopped asking. But I'm guessing they're still out there. With normal, ordinary lives. They'll be 32 and 35 now." She tried to keep the wistfulness and the gesturing under control, but she was pretty sure she failed, since Chuck grabbed her hands and placed them gently in her lap.

"Hey, now," he said. "Have you ever tried — have you ever tried to look them up, maybe? You've got all the databases; you can do that. You did it with my dad."

She shook her head. "It's in the passs't," she slurred. "And i'legal. And I'm sure they think I'm dead. And Sam is. So is'not worth it. It's better this way, really."

"Think about them, thinking you're dead for all these years. And you've given it a little thought, it still means something to you … It's worth it."

"No, Chuck. It's not. Drop it. Please," she said firmly.

She should have known that he wouldn't. Of course Chuck wouldn't drop it. And to be honest, she had probably known that all along, because she knew Chuck Bartowski and she knew what kind of guy he was. So when he approached her, kind of nervously, at work a week later, she could have guessed what was on the blank card he was gripping like it was the nation's nuclear codes.

"Chuck?" she asked. "What do you have there?"

"Well," he said, sitting next to her so that Casey, in the arcade, wouldn't hear them. "I know you told me to drop the whole 'you have two sisters' bombshell, but honestly, I think you knew I wouldn't. So. I ran a few searches and found them."

"You know that's illegal," she said quietly.

"Yeah, whatever. You did it for me," he smiled lightly and pushed the card, still closed, over to her. "Both of their addresses are in there. I found more info, but only if you want it."

She didn't open it immediately, because Casey and the rest of their team were there. But there wasn't a lot to do, and so she left early that night. Once home, she tented the card on her coffee table. Stared at it for a while. Finally, she grabbed it and read its contents.

Andrea Mae Adler-Feldman

652 Alvaredo Street

San Francisco, CA 94114

Jamie Kathleen Porter

2550 Warring Street

Berkeley, CA 94704

She unlocked her phone and thumbed one. "Hey," she said. "When you're done at work, can you … can you bring the other information you have back?"