mxpw Author's Note: As you can clearly see that the size of this chapter is barely bigger than a piece of double ply toilet paper, it was obviously written by malamoo. Which makes sense, as she is the Sham lover, after all. Anyway, some of you may be wondering what gives, a Sham story? Well, this may have a difficult beginning, but it's not really a Sham story. Don't worry, no matter how much she begs me, I won't let moo turn it into one.

This fic is an experiment of sorts, between me and moo. We will be alternating chapters and/or characters. Next chapter, I'm up. It's our therapy, our way of dealing with how this season has disappointed us as Chuck fans. I hope you enjoy!

malamoo Author's Note: Ah, this is what happens when your writing partner is practically nocturnal. How can I defend myself? All season I've been struggling to understand what goes through Sarah's head, what makes her decide to do the crazy things she does, and this is a reconciliation of sorts. I'd like to thank altonish who still agreed to tweak a scene for me despite objections to the premise and DLK for helping me add characterization to a block of wood. It's not as easy as it seems, guys!

Disclaimer: We don't own Chuck.

Chapter 1:

"Oh, that poor thing."

Sarah flinches when she hears the words. She stops mid-step, almost afraid she'd recognize the women speaking, but manages at the last second to regain control of her senses and continue across the dining room back to her seat.

"I know. It's so tragic, isn't it?" the other woman at the table responds.

Sarah hesitates again. They're not talking about her, they couldn't be, but their words touch a nerve. This time she doesn't catch herself fast enough and the women at the table turn to look at her. Sarah hurriedly looks the other way to avoid their looks of disapproval; eavesdropping was still very faux pas.

She begins to head towards her seat again, slower now.

Be reasonable, she tells herself. There's no way those women could be talking about her.

But why then did it feel like every pair of eyes in the room was directed squarely at her?

Sarah nervously fidgets with a stray strand of hair. Be reasonable, she tells herself again. It's not possible for them to see through to the insecure, neurotic mess she's kept bottled inside. She's a good actress, some say the best, and she's dressed for her part tonight. It's just not possible.

Agent Sarah Walker leaves her then and suddenly she's just...well...she's not entirely sure who she is any more. Did Sam still like the things that Sarah did?

"Hey, you okay?" A hand gently touches hers and she flinches. Sarah blinks. She has no memory of it but somehow she's drifted back to her table.

She shakes her head to clear her jumbled thoughts. "Fine," she says. She's feeling theatrical tonight so she throws him a smile as she takes her seat. "What are you having?"

"I've already ordered for us. Appetizers should be coming out soon."

Sarah's smile wavers. "Oh." She realizes much to her disappointment that they've already taken away the menus. "I was going to order a hamburger."

Her date frowns. "Here? This isn't McDonalds, Sam—"

"Sarah."

He frowns again and Sarah feels like she's said something wrong. Like he knows her better than she knows herself.

"I'd prefer it if you called me Sarah," she clarifies.

He doesn't say anything about that. He's the strong silent type but he's also the type to take control. Wasn't that what drew her to him in the first place?

Prague had left her world spinning, and all she wanted was something to hold onto. Was it wrong to act in self-preservation?

She examines her poor over bitten fingernails to avoid making eye contact. "It was all a big mistake."

"What?"

"Telling you my name." She swallows slowly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that."

"Why?"

"It was inappropriate to burden you with that."

What she really means is that it was far too intimate a detail to share with someone...anyone. She feels like she's given something away that she can't get back.

He shrugs, his expression permanently calm and fixed. "Sorry, I thought you wanted to share with me."

"I did," Sarah hedges. "Just..." She pauses for a moment. "It's okay that you know, I just don't want it getting around. Keep it to yourself, you know?"

Shaw looks at her. "You're upset that Bartowski found out, aren't you?"

Sarah inhales quickly. "Yes," she agrees. It wasn't entirely true though. She'd very much wanted to tell him...but not like that. It was supposed to have been a moment between them. It was supposed to be an important moment of trust. She'd been ready in Prague and now...

"Sarah."

Sarah stirs and realizes she's missed a vital part of the conversation. "I'm sorry?"

He frowns again. "Haven't you been listening? What did I just say?"

"Um…what did I just say?" She manages a weak smile but he's not buying it.

"Before that."

"What did I just say?" It's not wrong but it's not right either.

What light there was in Shaw's eyes, they're extinguished now. "Is there somewhere else you'd rather be?"

There's the tone again.

Sarah smiles brightly and her cheek muscles strain at the unfamiliar expression. "No. No, of course not."

She no longer has anywhere else to go. In choosing Shaw she's burned all other bridges and moved herself across the continent to avoid something more frightening—

You have to risk big to win big and quite frankly after Prague, it was easier to take a scorched earth approach than to try to rebuild something from the ashes.

Fool me once... that's what her father taught her. There wasn't going to be a second time.

"Are you nervous about this Rome assignment?"

Sarah shakes her head. "No." She keeps her voice steady so he won't be able to detect the undercurrent of excitement.

She's learned to be careful around him. It's better not to start another fight, especially when she's about to leave soon.

"I hear your old friend is stationed there."

"Carina?" Sarah asks, feigning innocence. "Is she? I guess I'll have to give her a call then."

He doesn't say much, this man of hers, and his expressions say even less but Sarah has a clear idea of his opinions when it came to her friend.

"Well it's important to think of the job first. This isn't some social trip."

Sarah nods, deflating a little. "I know," she says. "I've been doing this for awhile."

He sighs. "I know. And I know you're good at your job, but I feel I need to remind you—"

"Business first," Sarah finishes. "I got it." She swallows to keep the bitterness from rising to her throat; he's only reminding her because he cares.

Shaw's expression shifts ever so slightly. "Oh, good, the appetizers are here."

The waiter serves them Greek salad on a silver plate and Sarah's appetite dissipates.

Sarah hates olives. She's pretty sure Sam hates them too.

They walk out of the restaurant together but not really. Sarah keeps her hands in her coat pockets and Shaw walks ahead to get the car. She steals a glance over her shoulder just before she steps out, and she swears the two women from the other table are watching her.

That poor thing.

So tragic.

Sarah shakes her head and walks out to wait by the curb. There's absolutely no reason she should feel this way. The fast-paced job, the handsome boyfriend, the generous expense account. What's not to love? She's sure there are hundreds of women who'd give an arm and a leg to be in her very expensive shoes.

But she's not one of them. Ah, but isn't the grass always greener on the other side?

Shaw's car pulls around the corner and she gets in.

The ride is quiet, even more quiet than is usual.

"Is something wrong?" she asks, and the second it leaves her lips, she knows she's made a mistake. Now she's clearly asking for it.

Shaw doesn't look at her but from his profile she can see the way his strong jaw appears locked. "I've told you before. I'd prefer it if you dressed with a bit more modesty."

The reprimand stings. Sarah feels like she's five years old again and when she looks down at herself, she can't see where she went wrong. It's just a dress and a pair of heels. She can't help it if she doesn't want to wear a wimple and a sweater on a date.

"The waiter was practically staring down your chest," he accuses.

"It's not like I asked him to," she says. It's a humid summer evening but the car couldn't have felt colder.

"You certainly didn't discourage him," Shaw retorts. "I remind you that when you're off duty, you don't have to seduce every male in the vicinity."

Sarah bristles but she doesn't retaliate. His words sting but it's not the first time. Everyone has their faults, and isn't that what love is?

Sometimes the realization confuses her. Love has felt different every time—with Bryce, with Chuck, and now Shaw; so when was it real and when was it just a fling?

He apologizes when they get back to the apartment. It's succinct and adequate.

"I'm sorry. I just care about you too much."

He recognizes that he's out of line but that's the way he is. There's no promise for change and Sarah would be asking too much if she did; after all, hadn't she wanted someone who would always be the way they were?

She says the only thing she can. "It's alright."

He wraps his arm around her; strong, possessive, and she falls into his embrace. She closes her eyes and it feels so safe here, like no one could ever hurt her, that for a moment, all her doubts disappear.

She has someone who will always be there for her. Who loves her. Who won't ever change on her.

What more does she want?

"I don't want our last conversation to be an argument," he says.

Sarah nods in agreement even though they never argue—not really. She never lets it get that far because she's willing to give an inch, a foot, everything. After all, isn't that what you're supposed to do for the one you love?

He kisses her gently on the brow and pulls away to get ready for bed.

Sarah packs her things, checks her itinerary, and waits for him to finish before locking herself in the washroom. She takes her time, spends ten entire minutes just staring at her reflection and wondering who the hell is staring back at her, and how many more years she has before her features lose their charm.

It's something she's been wondering a lot these days.

When she steps out, he's waiting for her.

He kisses her and she thinks to herself that it's only one more night, and he deserves this. It'll lessen the physical separation between them.

She lets his hands roam across her body, and even though it's a little uncomfortable she doesn't tell him. Shaw's as handsome as they come, and the sex is pleasant, but it's more a ritual than anything else. She wouldn't be much of a girlfriend if she didn't oblige him one last time before flying halfway across the globe.

When he finishes, he kisses her on the cheek and bids her goodnight. Sarah nods and draws the sheets tighter against her chest.

She feels this would be an appropriate opportunity for tears. No one would judge, not tonight, but she can't. Because even if no one else knew the truth, she would, and she's too damn proud to admit it.

She's made her bed and now she has to lie in it.