A/N: Hey guys, after yesterday's heartbreaking episode, during which I screamed and yelled uncontrollably at Shaw and our dear Sam, I just had to pen down my thoughts in some way or another. I kept wondering what Chuck would do, now that Hannah was out of his life and Shaw and Sarah were gettin' it on. I'm not sure if it's my angst talking, but this is one of the most angsty pieces I've ever written. It's probably a piece of crap, but I really needed to get my thoughts out there. I might make this a multichapter, I might not. I'm not sure where I'll take this, but we'll see. Spoilers for episode 3.08, just to warn you.

Disclaimers - I don't own Chuck. theprincess1511 didn't really beta this, but she did give me her input. Forgive me for whatever mistakes you may find.

It's a short, little piece that I put together tonight. Chuck's been draining me, I don't like that that's happening, but I still do love the show dearly, and I always will.

He walked dejectedly into the Burbank plaza, eyes resting on the Buy More with disdain. Wincing, as he realized that he had just practically screwed Hannah's life over. Did he really expect her to report to work the following day? Did he truly expect to face her, after their ugly breakup? He had put her out of a job and broken the bond of a relationship that they desperately longed to have. But as he reminisced about the day's past events, he was almost sure that they never would have worked out. As much as he liked Hannah Richards, he would never love her with the same amount of passion that she had for him.

He would always be comparing her to Sarah, regardless of how different the two were. It was always about how Sarah disliked olives, how she loved a medium-rare steak, and never about how Hannah loved her steak to be a charred well-done. In each criteria of comparison, Sarah somehow managed to fight her way into his thoughts, as though she too, was hoping that he'd never get a chance to move on.

Listening to Sarah rant about his changing nature was just about equivalent to a punch to his gut. He knew very well that he was changing; Hell, he saw it more than anyone else. Yet he constantly shrugged it off, reassuring himself that he was taking one for the team. He was becoming a spy; achieving things that had never crossed his mind in the past. As far as the government knew, the Intersect 2.0 was a partial success, relying solely on him for the other half. So why did success taste so damn bitter?

Hearing Sarah reveal something completely real about herself to Shaw, without any prompting, without any hesitation, was a stab through his heart. What did Shaw have that he didn't? Everything, he chuckled dryly, stepping into a muddy puddle, and letting out a brief string of curses. He was still in love with her, and he came to the shocking realization that, well, he'd never stopped.

Spotting Sarah's Porsche still parked in its usual spot, he smiled softly, albeit sadly, knowing that she was probably with Shaw at that very moment. From their kiss that he had witnessed, he knew that somehow, he had lost the girl of his dreams; the girl who could very well have been the bane of his existence. But that was it, wasn't it? Love wasn't all about hugs and kisses and smooth sailing relationships. No, love was all about a sense of trust, opening up your heart for the other person to take.

Love hurt.

He had lost her to the arms of a man who was, by definition, Superman himself. And it was his fault. It was all his damn fault.

He nodded absentmindedly, trudging soundlessly toward the Herder that was parked by the storefront. He sighed as he slipped into the driver's seat, trying his very best to ignore how close she had come to losing her life today. Accelerating at speeds he would have normally cringed upon, he felt the tears blurring his vision, cursing his weak, lemony heart for being so pathetic.

The hearty, ironic jingle that emanated from his chest-pocket was hopelessly out of place in the cramped Herder, contrasting with the silent sobs that he released from the driver's seat – the shining, radiant face of Ellie filled the cell phone screen.

Clenching his eyes as another wave of chokes attacked his lungs, he let the tuneless melody slip unnoticed through his racing mind. He drove to wherever the roads would take him, the darkness of the night swallowing the Toyota Matrix in a cloud of blackness, if not for the headlights that shone ahead.

He found himself standing on the soft, powdery sand of the Santa Monica beach, letting the cool powder fill the spaces between his toes. It was their beach, nothing would ever change that. He began to grin, noting the momentary lapse of the stinging, aching pain in his chest. The pain, as long as he remembered, never went away. It would never fade, as long as he remained. It would never, ever fade.

He smiled tentatively as he began to strip down into his boxers, leaving his clothes littered onto the deserted beach. He yelled something that could rival Tarzan's native call, sprinting straight into an oncoming wave, embracing the cool water that enveloped him. As each wave lapped against his body, he felt his consciousness begin to melt away, along with every fibre of his strength. He was grateful for such a rare moment of peace, drifting off to the therapeutic crashing of waves.

"Honey, he's still not answering my calls," Ellie muttered worriedly toward Devon, who plopped himself onto the couch, magazine in hand. "Morgan hasn't seen him for days, but he just got back from some kind of seminar. He didn't see Chuck last night either…"

"Chill out, babe. The Chuckster mentioned that he had plans with Hannah, didn't he?"

Ellie shook her head, dismissing the idea immediately. "He told me that he was going to end it with her."

She attempted to stifle a giggle as her husband stared at her as though she had just informed him that unicorns and fairies existed in the world.

"Whoa, whoa, he did what? Did he say why?"

"He still has feelings for Sarah…"

Devon could only watch helplessly as a lightbulb went off in his wife's head. She whipped out her cell phone, dialling the blonde spy's number. He strained to listen, silencing the television as soon as Ellie collapsed against him, pressing the phone to both their ears.

"Hello?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, is Sarah there?" Ellie faced her husband in shock as a deep, unfamiliar male voice answered the call.

"She's, uh… She's in the bathroom right now, can I take a message?"

Ellie frowned as she heard the unmistakeable giggle of Sarah Walker in the background, contrasting against Devon's very much confused face. Weren't inter-spy relationships frowned upon? He hadn't a clue who the man was, but he'd imagine that the guy was a new addition to Chuck's team – someone who had put the moves on Sarah.

"Y-Yes," her voice grew increasingly shaky, heart breaking, if not for her little brother.

"Tell her that Chuck's gone. He's gone and I don't… I don't know where he is."