Author's Note: Okay, so here is the deal: I initially started to write this because my friend Wepdiggy told me about a challenge that a Chuck slash community was doing. He wrote a drabble and it inspired this in my head. I tried to ignore it, but it wouldn't go away, so I started writing. It took me about 20 minutes, that's why it's kinda rough. It was for the challenge but it just didn't work out. Why? Because it started as a slash drabble and ended as a Charah drabble. I guess I couldn't help myself.

For those who are wondering, why is he writing this and not DA? Well, guess what? DA will be updated by Friday. I give you my guarantee.

Warning: Hard "T" for one paragraph and one word. You'll see.

She had her first kiss at 14. Her name was Jenny. It was awkward and rushed and terribly innocent, but it left a pool of warmth in her stomach for days afterward.

She had her first sexual experience at 15 with a willowy brunette named Molly in the backseat of her father's car. It was the first time she'd ever kissed somebody for longer than five seconds. The first time she felt a nipple harden under her tongue. The first time her fingers buried in wet heat. The next day she left Molly for good, following her father onto his next con. She cried for two days.

At 18, she became infatuated with a girl (so much like Molly) in her organic chemistry class her Freshman year at Harvard. She never really knew her name; just that she liked the way the girl had chewed on her pen and bit her bottom lip while concentrating.

She met Carina when she was 21, the summer before her Senior year. It was a summer-long linguistics program sponsored by the CIA and based out of Quantico. It was lust at first sight and Carina was sharing her bed by the end of the first day. Between the fucking (Carina explained to her how what they did was different from "plain old sex"), they would share dreams and talk about crazy fathers and lost mothers. At the end of the three months, she had a best friend, more confusion, and a drive she'd never felt before.

When she met Bryce, she was 25 and felt 10 years older. He was fearless and handsome and reminded her so much of her father it hurt. That was why, when he kissed her after a close call in Bonn, she kissed him back. It was something she couldn't explain, something against type, something that exhilarated her. She stayed with him for two years and when she learned of his death, she cried. But she did not love him.

She found Chuck at 27. He was brave and honest and so innocent that every touch, every kiss, was a reminder of a simpler time. She loved his smile and his openness and how he was everything her father wasn't. She fell in love with him before she even knew what love was. After Prague, she understood what Molly must have felt the day she disappeared.

Chuck broke her heart at 29. For six months she grieved and denied and lamented. For six months she hated and cursed and scorned. And then he was back and it was like those six months never happened. She ached, not from a broken heart, but from the loss of opportunity, the loss of that innocence she thought she had. She thought she had found love for the first time, and maybe she had, but it was taken from her (or destroyed or maybe it never existed at all).

At 30, Shaw was easy and uncomplicated. Or so she thought. She had trusted and depended and thought he represented a time she understood. Like everything else, it was just more lies. He was dangerous and she was blind and together they nearly destroyed everything she had ever cared about.

She was 32 the day Chuck asked her to marry him. She said yes. The lies had not stopped, the innocence was gone, and their life was not easy. But his kisses were warm, his touch burning, his intentions good, and his love uncomplicated. He was Jenny and Molly and the girl with the pen and Carina and Bryce, but most of all, Chuck.

And she was happy.