Chuck vs the White Flag

A/N: After trolling the boards of Chuck fanfic for a while now, I have finally built up the courage to write, and publish, a work of my own, albeit a short one. Like I said, this is my first go at writing fanfic, so any criticism/pointers would be greatly appreciated. Also, I'd like to apologise in advance for any spelling (esp. those archaic UK English spellings, I can't help myself) and grammar mistakes or plot holes, but apart from that I hope you enjoy.

In all her time as a CIA agent, Sarah Walker has strived to be the best. The best marksman, the best seductress, the best agent the agency has ever seen. The common consensus was that Agent Walker was indeed the best and deservedly so – she had worked damn hard to achieve that title. Therefore the feelings running rampant through her body, ones that she didn't understand, had never felt before, made her angry, infuriated; but if she was honest with herself, the anger, the fury, were just a mask for her fright, because Sarah Walker, CIA extraordinaire never gets frightened. Well… Except by her feelings for a certain Buy More nerd, that is. Not only was having these feelings, which she could never act upon unfair to Chuck, but it was absolutely against protocol.

'Spies don't fall in love', Sarah berated herself, 'Chuck deserves better...'

Sarah sighed. She couldn't take it anymore, the tension between her and Chuck was palpable, barely hiding under the surface, so much so that she was certain Casey was aware, at least to some extent, of her feelings towards their asset. Sarah scolded herself mentally, she never quit, it just wasn't in her genetic make-up. But this, this was something that she couldn't fight, couldn't overcome, for once she couldn't come out top against overwhelming odds. It was the old adage – something's gotta give – and that thing was Sarah Walker, formerly of the intersect project, former handler of Chuck Bartowski.

'Goodbye Chuck', Sarah thought as she closed the door to her hotel room for the last time 'I really do love you…'

2 Years Later

Chuck was lying on his bed, re-reading Y: The Last Man for what seemed like the hundredth time, his thoughts, as always drifting back to the leggy blonde Valkyrie, as Morgan once put it, the subject of all his dreams. And his nightmares.

'Was it really just two years ago she left without a word?', Chuck asked himself. 'At times it feels like she left a lifetime ago, others… like it was yesterday…'

Chuck inhaled deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. In some ways, reading about Yorick and Agent 355 reminded him of his relationship with Sarah, not that he was the last man on earth, or that Sarah worked for the Culper ring, and he sure as hell didn't own a monkey, but that's beside the point. Chuck was drawn from his musings by the large red print of his alarm clock sitting beside his bed.

'6:30. Great', Chuck thought 'time for another enthralling date with one of Ellie's friends. Spectacular.'

Lethargically removing himself from his bed, Chuck decided he better find some alternate clothes for tonight's 'date'. It's not that he didn't appreciate all that Ellie was doing for him, he loved her for it, but he didn't understand why she couldn't see. It took him 5 years to get over Jill, and whatever the thing he had with Sarah was, real or not to her, to Chuck, his relationship with Sarah was like his Everest, where Jill was Ben Nevis. Exponentially more complicated, yet exponentially more meaningful.

'This is going to be one long night', Chuck sighed.

Once upon a time, she was the best in the CIA, top dog, the big kahuna, her name sent shivers through the bones of her enemies.

'God that feels like a lifetime ago', Sarah thought, nursing a drink at the club she had chosen to get smashed at tonight.

Okay, so she hadn't been at the top of her game recently, she would be the first to admit that. But she was still the best, her missions were mostly successful, she still managed to complete the objectives, like a good little agent. Sarah was sure that this little spate of distraction would end soon; everyone had periods of distraction in their lives, didn't they? But, unfortunately in this business, distraction is what got you killed, or worse, and two years is a hell of a long time. So she was put on 'medical leave', as they called it.

'Might as well call me mental' Sarah fumed, downing the JD in her glass, whilst silently signalling for another.

Sitting at the bar, letting her thoughts consume her, Sarah was snapped back to reality, hearing something that sounded oddly familiar, a voice maybe? Letting her eyes sweep the club, utilising her spy skills, Sarah kept looking for the face she left two years ago. She told herself that coming back to L.A. for her leave was purely because she liked the lifestyle, the climate, the people, but in her heart of hearts, Sarah knew that it was only because of one man.

'Yeah. The people…more like person…', Sarah snorted, bringing the rim of her glass to her lips, draining it of fluid.

Continuing her sweep of the club, Sarah's cobalt eyes landed on the band playing in the corner. The Foreign Born. 'Sounds like Chuck's kind of music', Sarah mused, allowing the music and alcohol to lead her into a self-imposed oblivion.

Yep, so the 'date' went entirely as expected; nowhere. It's not that the girl wasn't nice, she even liked to play Call of Duty from time to time, but as nice as she was, as perfect as she probably was for Chuck, she wasn't Sarah. Chuck knew that talking about the ex-girlfriend was a big no-no whilst on a date, but to be honest, Chuck couldn't really care less. Besides, was Sarah really even his ex-girlfriend? Ex-cover-girlfriend, yes, but just plain old ex-girlfriend?

That's how Chuck Bartowski, keeper of 1000s of government secrets, found himself wandering aimlessly around the streets of L.A after another miserable date where he talked for hours about unrequited love, and his date got utterly bored. He was avoiding the wrath of one Eleanor Faye Bartowski, telling him he needed to get on with his life, find a new girlfriend, and get over Sarah. He knew the script word for word, God knows they'd rehearsed it enough times.

'Everything stays the same' Chuck thought, dragging his Chuck Taylor's along the uneven paving, 'only the names change…'

Suddenly in the need of some liquid courage before returning to the tempest awaiting him at home, Chuck stumbled into the nearest club, intent on seeking out the delights of tequila and maybe, if he was feeling adventurous a little scotch. Descending the stairs into the not-so-smoky depths of L.A. nightlife, Chuck realised his surroundings. The posters, the carpet, the band, it was all the same.

'Someone up there really doesn't like me' Chuck scoffed, it was just his luck. Not only was this the place he took Sarah on their first date, the one before he realised he'd downloaded the entire database of government secrets into his brain, the one before he realised she worked for the CIA, the one before he realised that everything she did wasn't real, but the same band was playing? Not that he didn't like the Foreign Born, he actually quite enjoyed their music, but this was almost too cruel to be chance.

'You know what, scrap that, I must have been a serial killer, emperor of the underworld, Ivo Robotnik or someone equally and/or more evil in a past life, because someone up there DEFINITELY doesn't like me.'

His surroundings compounding his need for intoxication, Chuck quickened his step, keeping his head down, all the while heading towards the bar, narrowly avoiding hitting a couple dancing near the stairwell with only his years of lanky incoordination to avoid a major disaster (if you are feeling melodramatic, and by this point, Chuck definitely was).

"Sorry." He mumbled incoherently, continuing on his path as though all life depended on it.

Finally reaching the bar unscathed, eyes still firmly planted on his shoes, Chuck ordered a shot of tequila, downed it in one fell swoop before slamming the shot glass back on the bar.

"Another", Chuck called to the bartender, who had yet to return from retrieving the salt and lime for Chuck's first shot.

The first time she heard it, she could have passed it up as a memory, her mind playing tricks on her – after all she had all but drank her way through a whole bottle of Jack in the time she'd been at the bar, but the second time? Sarah, whatever her level of intoxication at the present point, knew that this was no memory, no mirage. Besides she could handle her booze nearly as well as Jeff…

Turning her head to the sound, Sarah's breath hitched in her throat. It was him. Sure his hair was shorter and he looked like he'd had a rough night, but it was him, her Chuck. She'd know that face anywhere. Quickly, Sarah turned her eyes back to her now non-existent scotch, finding something infinitely interesting in the bottom of her glass. She had wanted this, to see him, tell him how she really felt, no covers, no compromises. That's the whole, honest to God reason she had come back to Burbank, of all the places she could have gone. But now, presented with the opportunity, she was at a loss, frozen into inaction. A novel experience for the great Sarah Walker.

Her heart pounding in her ears drowned out the music, the din on the patrons around her, and for the first time in her life, Sarah was alone, face to face with her own heart - the enemy within. And it scared her more than anything she had ever faced in her life. Since when had her response been to even contemplate flight over fight?

"Miss? Hello?", the bartender asked for the third time. Finally looking up, whisked from her internal battlefield, Sarah pulled a tight smile towards the bartender.

"Yes?", She replied, too intent on keeping a low profile, so as not to alert the lanky nerd along the bar, to afford any pleasantries.

"I asked you if you wanted another drink.", the bartender repeated with a hint of amusement.

"No, no. I'm fine, thanks…"

"Okay, then…", the bartender drawled, obviously slightly bemused by the blonde woman's strange behaviour.

Her resolve crumbling, Sarah rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands, elbows leaning on the bar counter. 'I can't do this… this was a mistake. I…'

"Sarah?", the familiar voice resonated in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. "Sarah, is that really you?"

'Oh shit', Sarah thought, 'time to bite the bullet.'

Lifting her sapphire eyes to meet the voice that had spoken her name a hundred times before, Sarah inhaled unconsciously, bracing herself for what was about to come.

"Hi, Chuck…"

A/N 2: I hope you enjoyed this little vignette, didn't really know where to go with this, so I stopped here, thought about another chapter, but I'm not sure. Unless, of course, there is demand for more (which would be quite flattering), I know cliff-hangers are pretty evil, then i'll write it. Thanks for reading, and have a nice rest of the day :)