What hurts the most…

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or any intellectual property related to the Chuckvers and if I did they would all be happy all the time and having cute spy babies!

Guns aimed at my head, knives pulled taunt against my throat, and yet those lips accidentally grazing my neck send adrenaline pumping through my blood like nothing else. The way our bodies curve in around each other even in this guise of sleep is more honest and intimate then any real relationship I've ever had. Half-asleep may be the only way for me to have this surreal happiness, so I pull the covers tighter around us and press our bodies closer together. I thread our fingers and guide them along the borders of territory only ever explored in dreams. Suddenly the lips against my neck become more urgent and purposeful. I turn to meet those sweet full lips before questions can come out of them and ruin their beauty.

I've thought about this moment so many times, but I can't believe its happening. The fire between us renders all my doubts and fears to ash and it feeds warm hope through to my bones. Manic and languid, intense and lazy, sweet and hard…like the dual lives we lead, this coupling is many things all at once. The only thing it isn't…is enough.

I wake in a cold sweat, shivering from the devastating lack of warmth in the aftermath of the dream. Every time we spend the night together, I have the same dream…and it keeps getting worse…or better. I blow out a deep sigh in an attempt to reign in my ragged breathing and avoid detection.

It doesn't work. "Sarah?" He places his hand on my forearm with obvious concern and begins to stroke the gooseflesh that rises, "Wow, you are freezing. Come here." He pulls me closer and I flash back to the dream as his breath caresses my ear, "Better?"

I mutter something noncommittal, afraid of what I might say if I actually open my mouth.

"You know you can tell me about it?"

My body goes rigid, unsure of how much he knows or has guessed. But quickly sensing my unease he backs off, "Or not."

I relax into what's somehow become Chuck's loose embrace. I need to say something to offset the waves of anxiety radiating from him, so I opt for the simplest lie, "It's nothing."

"Bad dream?"

I feel all the blood drain from my face and a worry line creases his forehead in response. He pulls me into a quick hug, tucking my head beneath his chin and counsels, "Just keep telling yourself, it was just a nightmare…it wasn't real."

"Yeah," I agree slowly, "it isn't real." It never can be...and that's what hurts the most.

Author's Note: This is my first Chuck story...I've got more ideas but I'd like some feedback since I'm normally a Lee/Kara shipper over in the BSGverse. I was having one of those half dreams in the morning (before you really wake up) and the idea of that same phenomenon affecting my beloved Charah grew in my mind until this little ficlet was born. I apologize for the vague POV reference in the beginning, but I wanted to keep you guessing as to whether it was Chuck or Sarah who was having this fantasy...I've very curious if people automatically thought it was from Chuck's POV, because I wrote the beginning and came back to it a week later and forgot that it was a Sarah story and I laughed for 5 minutes over confusing myself! Hope you liked it. Just remember, reviews are the best holiday present of all :-)