A/N: Set in the "Full Circle" universe a few months after Chuck and Sarah's marriage, AU S2.

Right from the start

You were a thief

You stole my heart

And I your willing victim

I let you see the parts of me

That weren't all that pretty

And with every touch you fixed them

Now you've been talking in your sleep, oh, oh

Things you never say to me, oh, oh

Tell me that you've had enough

Of our love, our love

Just give me a reason

Just a little bit's enough

Just a second

We're not broken, just bent

And we can learn to love again

It's in the stars

It's been written in the scars on our hearts

We're not broken, just bent

And we can learn to love again…

"Just Give Me a Reason," Pink

It starts small.

Rolling over in bed, he glimpses a shadow standing at the doorway: a slender figure leaning against the cream-colored entry, staring at him as he stares right back at her. It might be a dream, maybe even a nightmare. But he knows the truth. He knows that when she sighs and turns away, she's turning away from him. He knows that when she slips from their bedroom and makes her way down the hall, causing the wooden floors to creak, the guest room door to squeal, she's stepping further and further from their bed. He knows that when that same guest door closes with a snick, she's made the decision to sleep alone.

Chuck's heart dips, and he grabs hold of her pillow. Even the slight traces of her perfume, fading now after a week of her absence, do little to erase the fact that his wife has chosen the solitude of an empty bed rather than the warmth of his arms.

I'm not like you, Sarah. I can't turn my emotions on and off like I'm some robot.

Words from the past drift through his mind, chasing his fear with misery and forcing him into an uneasy sleep.

Their wedding photo peeks at him from the hall, taunting him with memories of a perfect day, daydreams of a happy future. A future skewed by a reality so stilted, it sneaks inside and steals his breath. Grabbing his keys, he pauses for a moment to stare at his wife's grinning face, radiant from beneath her white tulle veil. "I'm gonna fix this, Sarah." His words are sharp, his posture strong. "I'm gonna fix this, and then everything is going to be okay again."

With that, he grabs hold of a picnic basket, breathing in the scent of fried chicken and potato salad as his shoes beat a murmured path to their front door, which he slams with a resounding bang. The wedding photo is still gleaming in the sun when he jumps into his Mustang and presses his foot to the gas, streaking through the streets.

"What the hell do you think you were doin', sellin' yourself on the streets? You know the rules of your probation."

"Relax, Pops." A twenty-something brunette pops her gum, leaning against the cluttered desk of her probation officer to reveal so much cleavage, Chuck's not quite sure it's legal to wear a shirt that tight cut. "Hey, you want, I can always do you." Her bloodshot eyes rove his meaty torso, raking him from bald pate to chubby gut. "'Course, it might cost you a little more than most …"

"Um, excuse me." Chuck steps to the front desk of the Burbank police station to ring the bell, but his shaking hands cause it to topple over onto the paperwork. Chime! It screams in protest. "Sorry," he murmurs, leaning over to grab the chimer. "I was just … uh, considering some important redecorations. You know, this bell would look so much better over –"

His words die beneath Bald Pate's glare, and the bell falls from his hands to crash upon the desk. "You want something? Or are you just here to destroy our office and waste my time?"

"Want something?" Chuck squeaks. "Yes! Yes, I want something. I want –"

"You know something?" Smack! Goes the brunette's gum. Pop! Goes a button on her blouse. "You're kinda cute. What say you and I head back there to, uh –" she shimmies forward, showcasing the long legs peeking out from beneath her tiger-striped skirt, "—continue this little discussion in private?"

Chuck jumps at the touch of her finger, skipping from his chest down down down to fondle … "Uh, that's an interesting proposition." He stumbles backward, choking on the stench of alcohol and – could that possibly be marijuana? He's not sure, but he's read that it smells something like –

"Oh, now don't be shy." Grabbing hold of his shirt, she tugs him back into her arms, ignoring Bald Pate's growl, the slam of his fist against his desk. "I promise we can have all kindsa fun, you and I. I know this trick that I just know'd make you squeal." And his ear disappears inside her lips, which he's pretty sure are doubling for some kind of vise.

"Now. Now now." Thrusting his hands into the air, he jumps free of her roving hands while Bald Pate snaps his fingers, signaling for some help. While the distinct clink of handcuffs sounds through the station, Chuck glances wildly around for his wife. "Listen, I'm kinda attached. And – and it's a nice offer and all, but –"

"But?" Her lips are back at his ear.

"But, but, uh, I –"

"Chuck?"

A wave of ice rushes through Chuck's chest at the sound of her voice, so tainted with shock, so riddled with disappointment, he squeezes his eyes shut to block the sight of her face.

Sarah's partner, Brickson, pulls away the brunette, slapping her in handcuffs while her probation officer rattles on about jail time and skipping probation, shaking his head in disgust when he slips a packet of white powder from her purse, and Chuck is left with a woman he once considered his best friend, but who is now staring at him with ice blue eyes so darkened with hurt, he's not certain he hasn't fallen through some sort of worm hole to an alternate dimension.

"Chuck, what are you doing here?"

"Chicken," he croaks, and holds up the picnic basket. "I, uh, I brought you chicken."

Sarah's eyes slam into slits and she turns on her heel, disappearing into the darkness of the police station.

"Have a good night, Bartowski," Brickson calls as he swings the station doors shut behind his back, heading into the parking lot. His eyes betray his feelings: he knows how things have been between her and Chuck, he saw her husband in the arms of a prostitute just this afternoon. Brickson may be many things, but none of them are dumb, and he's been watching her with suspicion ever since she dragged the perp out of hold down earlier today and threatened bodily injury if he didn't confess his crimes. Not that it did any good. The guy wouldn't talk, and she still couldn't erase the image of Chuck closing his eyes as the bimbo raked her nails down his chest.

Damn it, Chuck. Sighing, Sarah fingers their wedding ring. What the hell is going on with us?

He's sitting at the kitchen table with a half-finished chicken wing when she steps inside, her hair a disheveled mess, bruises etched across her knuckles. Her police uniform is slightly undone, her shirt pulled from her pants, her badge lopsided upon her chest. She's never looked more beautiful. He's never wanted her so bad. And for a moment, just a moment, when their eyes lock and her lips part, he swears he sees her mask slip, revealing the visage of a woman who wants him, too.

"I saved you some chicken." Chuck gestures to her plate, set upon her placemat with its congealing potato salad and the chicken that went from warm to bone cold hours before. "If, you know, you want some."

He tries for a goofy smile, a lopsided tilt of his lips, but her mask falls back into place and his expression disappears behind a grimace that turns into a sigh. "Sarah, can we talk?"

"What's there to talk about?" She shrugs, tossing her police jacket onto their breakfast bar. "Didn't we say everything today when you were making out with that prostitute?"

"Making out is a very strong phrase." Chuck pushes back from his chair, jumping to his feet. "In fact, I'd say it was definitely more of a … propositioning."

"A propositioning?" Her voice has risen an octave. "Are you listening to yourself?"

"Yes. Yes, I am. And honestly, I'm slightly horrified, but… Sarah? Sarah, where are you going?"

She freezes at the threshold, her fists clenched. "Outside. I need some fresh air."

"But … I thought we were talking?"

Her inhalation of breath reverberates through the kitchen, accompanying the slump of her shoulders, the twisting of Chuck's heart. "You stopped talking to me a long time ago, Chuck. Why would you start now?"

He's twisting in his sleep. Tossing and turning, his mouth open in a silent scream. She reaches for him, touches his arm, his face, his cheek … he pulls away. Away from her, away from them.

Chuck used to talk to her. Used to tell her everything. But now … Now he's so distant, she wonders if he's the same man. Wonders what happened to her Chuck. Wonders what happened to the man she loves, the man she wants, the man she needs.

"Chuck. Chuck, wake up." Grabbing his shoulder, she shakes him until his eyelids flutter. "Damn it. Chuck, wake up." Another shake, another shove, and his eyelids are opening, revealing a deep brown gaze shot through with panic.

"Sarah?"

"I'm here, Chuck." She gathers him in her arms, holding him against her chest. "I'm always here. What's wrong? What were you dreaming about?"

"I … Nothing. I don't know. I –"

"You can talk to me. You know that."

"I know, Sarah. I know. It's just …"

"Just?"

"Just – let's go back to sleep. Okay?"

The silence chokes her throat, making her chest clench. "Is that really what you want?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it is." And with that, he rolls over onto his side, out of her arms, out of her space, and moments later, his soft snores fill the room.

Now, three weeks later, she can't remember the last time he held her as he drifted off to sleep.

"You're hurt."

"I'm fine." She tightens her fingers around their white railing.

"Sarah … you've got bruises all over your hands." Stepping to her side, he takes her hand.

She pulls it away. "What can I say, Chuck? I'm a cop. I work in a tough environment."

"Yeah. I know." His shoulders tense and he runs his fingers through his curls, staring blankly at the onyx sky. "It's just … do you always have to come home injured? Or – or late because you've been off chasing criminals? When we got married – I don't know, I guess I thought …"

"You thought what, Chuck?" She slams her teeth together, whirling on her computer nerd with narrowed eyes. "You thought you were marrying someone else? Someone you could talk to, maybe? Someone you could share your secrets with? Your dreams? Your – your nightmares?"

His eyes are wide, drowning out his face, pale against the shimmering stars. "No. Of – of course not. Sarah, of course not. I just thought things would be … different."

"Different than how?" She throws out her hands, stalking toward him with racing pulse, with working jaw. "Different than me? Different than us?"

She can see his Adam's apple tense, hear the sound of him gulping. Even so, he steps into her space, cupping her cheek, threading a blonde strand behind her ear. Damn it, she can feel herself leaning into his touch.

"Sarah … how can you ever think I don't want you? That I don't – that I don't want us?"

She's catapulted into his gaze, into the liquid depths of his stare. A burst of warmth floods her chest, stunning her to the point of silence.

"Do you remember how hard we fought to be together? How much I wanted you? Do you know how much I need you now?"

Her eyes flutter closed, blocking her from the dangerous trajectory of his gaze.

"Look at me, Sarah. Please. Please look at me."

With a sigh, she forces herself to meet his heated stare. "Why?"

Chuck traces her cheekbone with his thumb. "Because I love you. And because I want you to know that no matter what's going on between us, I'm never gonna stop. I'm yours, Sarah. I've been yours since that day you walked into the Buy More and asked me to fix your phone. Yours since you the night you kissed me when we thought we were gonna be blown to bits. Yours since … well, yours since the moment we met."

Her heart stutters in its beat. She shakes her head. Wets her lips. "Then why won't you talk to me? You've been pulling away, Chuck. Why?"

Now it's Chuck's turn to look away. Breathing deep, he turns his gaze to the stars, watching them wink from the heavens, bathing them in light.

"Do you remember that night?"

"What night?"

"The night you told me to make a wish. And said that you were sure it would come true."

"When you –"

"When I saved the world with Missile Command. Yeah." His mouth twists into a lopsided smile, showcasing his teeth, and he turns to her with a sparkle in his cinnamon eyes. "You wanna know what I wished for?"

Sarah's skin prickles in the evening breeze. "Sure."

"You, Sarah. I wished for you." He wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her so close, she can feel his breath tickle her cheek. "And when you come home bruised? And when you come home late? It scares me so bad, sometimes I find myself pulling away. It didn't used to be like this. When we were in the field together, even when you and Casey were ordering me into the car –"

"You were close." Her voice is a whisper, breathed against his chest.

"Yeah. And I could – I don't know, I could do something. Something to keep you safe."

"Chuck?"

"Yeah?"

"You were a terrible spy."

His chest vibrates with laughter, making her smile. "C'mon. I wasn't that bad, was I?"

Pulling back, she meets his gaze in a daring blaze of blue and tweaks the hair at the back of his neck. "You want me to go into the specifics? 'Cause it might take all night."

"Nah." He grins. "I've got something much more devious planned for you, Mrs. Bartowski."

"Oh?" She arches a blonde brow. "And what exactly might that be, Mr. Bartowski?"

"Well, it occurs to me," he yanks her so close, she can feel the lines of his chest rippling beneath his cotton T-shirt, "we still haven't consecrated the back porch." And he lifts her off her feet, whirling for the railing as a peal of laughter bursts from her lips.

"Why, Chuck. Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

His mouth is at her throat, tracing heat across her skin. "The neighbors heard us arguing, Sarah. Let's give them something to really watch."

She allows him to place her onto the railing, where she wraps her legs around his hips. "I do have a condition."

"What's that?"

"No more prostitutes."

"Done."

Soon, they're trembling in each other's arms as Mrs. Hedigan raises her blinds, gasping for breath at the sound of Sarah's deep moans.

And later, when Chuck holds her tight in his embrace, she whispers into his ear. "Chuck? I love you, too."