A/N: Why hello! If you've followed any of my other stories in the Bones section, so sorry about the absence. it's just my life has exploded recently. Anyways, I will be working on Echoes when I can, and hopefully finishing it up before the seventh season of Bones begins in the spring. I may have a oneshot here or there, I'm not quite sure yet.

Anyways, this is my first Chuck fanfiction- this was mostly inspired by the series finale, of course, and my own attempts to figure out what happened after the screen faded to black. My opinion on the finale is mixed- I would have loved to have had the fluffy end, with the last shot being of that white picket fence of the dream home, but at the same time, I have to applaud Fedak and Schwartz for going out with a bang.

I don't think Sarah would have regained her memories directly after that final kiss- it is a bit cliche, and seems like a last minute fix. However, it was clear that Quinn didn't erase her memories, just repressed them- as evidenced by her recalling the Weinerlicious, the virus, etc. Therefore, she has the last five years still intact.

A little plot bunny came to life from there, and thus this fic. I plotted, and figured out an ending that I was happy with- one that involved our Sarah coming back, fully. I hope you enjoy this little tale, and please, if you have any thoughts or suggestions, feel free to leave a review. They are very appreciated.

For clarification, the story begins (including the below prologue) and takes place about 6-7 months after the finale.

Reset

The world seems not the same
Though I know nothing has changed…

-Within Temptation, Pale

The room itself was the first indication that something was wrong.

As she took it in, the tilted realm of sleep falling away to consciousness, Sarah Bartowski was able to process one thing quite clearly- this was not her bedroom.

For one thing, the walls were too bland- just a normal off-white shade, with small gray highlights serving as trim along the walls. To most, it would seem normal, tasteful- but for Sarah, it indicated something very wrong.

Where the hell was that Tron poster? Not to the other geeky memorabilia and collectibles that had been stuffed along the room walls and shelves for the past two years. The color was off, so damn much- the room was too big, the bed shunted off to the side. The wall sized-window shouldn't be there- neither should it be showing the skyline of Dubai.

Most importantly of all, Sarah shouldn't be alone in the Queen sized-bed.

Her heartbeat slowed slightly, and her body tensed against the plush sheets intertwined around her body. She slide her hand underneath the pillow, a little more than a decade of service and training coming into play instantly. As skin met metal, Sarah remained frozen, until her grip was secure.

With a flash, she arced up out of the bed, the gun pointed around the room. She scanned for enemy activity, stalking towards the door. She listened, her heart picking up a slightly faster rhythm.

No response.

For a moment more, she stood, her own shallow breathing the only sound to pierce the silence. Finally, she lowered the gun slightly, still staring at the door, relaxing her muscles slightly.

When no goons came bursting in through the door after another two minutes, Sarah finally lowered the gun, still allowing it to hang at her side. Sarah allowed herself to breath a bit deeper. Either the "enemy" was waiting for her to make the next move, or there was no enemy in the first place.

Well, if it was the former, Sarah had time to wait.

She paused for a moment, and turned back around, her mind finally catching up with her surroundings.

How the hell did I get here?

Her memories were a dead end- her last recollection was of sitting in the courtyard just outside her apartment, showing Chuck a potential office space for the tech company. The spot was high on the list, as an incentive to get Casey happy with the shift in gears for Carmicheal Industries. She remembered, fuzzily, hearing Casey come through the entrance, and thinking that choosing an office that had belonged to Reagan would be a pretty good incentive for the former NSA agent. After that, however, it was all a blank.

Sarah glanced towards the door again, holding the gun a little tighter in her hand. She moved towards the bed, her heart speeding up.

What happened?

She was missing memories, she knew that- she had no idea how long had passed between her last memory and the present, whether it was a few days or a few weeks. Somehow, she had ended up in Dubai, alone, without her team…

…and Chuck.

As that thought crossed her mind, she tensed, shaking suddenly. She felt her breathing speed up, massive anger and grief rising unannounced. Sarah blinked, bewildered by the sudden rise in her emotions. She had mastered the ability to keep her emotions even, to hide them behind a mask. With being a spy, that was essential.

Now, however, why did she feel like bawling?

Struggling to keep herself under control, Sarah staggered toward the dresser, leaning against it to steady herself. She gasped heavily, struggling to return her emotions to baseline.

A few moments later, her rational thoughts returned, and Sarah began to rummage through the drawer, looking for anything that may indicate her presence here. Just some clothing, a jacket, and a small handgun- nothing out of the ordinary.

Perplexed, Sarah stepped back. There should have been something- a photo, a card, anything that would have indicated why she was in this room. Instead, minus the presence of the weaponry, Sarah appeared to just… be here.

Not for long.

Her next move was planned, instinctive. She had no purpose here- or rather, she needed to be elsewhere. There was one person, one soul, where she felt at home.

She just needed to get to him.