Author's Note: Obviously, standard disclaimers. I don't own Chuck, its owned by NBC and its affiliates, and Shwedak. Bla bla bla. English is my third language, and whilst I've tried very hard to maintain the American English, especially in dialogue, sometimes I revert to the British terms with which I am much more familiar (why does English have so many different words for the same thing? Why? Its so hard for people who are non-native speakers!) In fact, it took me a long time to figure out the right term for "portable USB drive/Thumb drive/Zip drive". In Hebrew, we just say "disc-on-key" but I figure most people would not be familiar with that term.

I will not apologise for length in between updates, because I have never, and will never promise a regular schedule in updates. I'm a grown up with real-world responsibilities (I'm in the process of writing an MA Thesis/Dissertation, for example) but I try hard to update as regularly as possible. Also, I would much rather give you fine folks longer, better written chapters more slowly than quickly updated short, poorly-written rubbish.

It took me a while to get writing this chapter because for a while I had no idea where the plot/character archs were going. I was trying very hard to keep it as non-AU as possible, but then I realised: this is already an AU story. I should just write the story that is in my head, and fit in canon where and when I can, rather than trying to fit my story to canon, and from there, it became a lot easier. So if you are expecting this to basically be a retelling of canon from a different perspective with slight changes, this will probably not be the story for you. I do know of a pretty good TV programme, however, that might fit the bill. ;)

A brief explanation of what I mean I think is in order (don't worry, no spoilers): 1. I have always thought that Schwedak didn't portray Sarah's character right. Of course, their "right" is always technically "correct" since they invented her, but I always got the feeling that her character was much more sure of herself in terms of relationship-y things than they portrayed. What I mean by htat is, I always got the feeling that her character was a very strong, sure of herself person. If/when she would make a decision on something (say, for example, to get into a real realtionship with Chuck) that she would put in a real, honest, effort to really do so (unlike in the canon version, which shows her wanting to one minute, but then not making any effort to do what was necessary to have the relationship she wanted with Chuck the next, and I think they did it just for the cheap, easy, drama that came with the teen angsty stuff); 2. A major theme in this story is and will be "choice" and that is what will largely govern this story, at least that's what I'm thinking at this point, 3. I had a very hard time with the Beckman character/arch, because in the very beginning you get a real hardass Beckman, but then by the end of S03, she was basically their biggest cheerleader. I like that Beckman, but I think there needed to be more development towards that, and hopefully this story will allow me to do that, at least somewhat. 4. As I said, I don't think I will be including as much canon as I was originally intending – which is part of the reason why, I've thus far basicaly been picking and choosing the parts of canon I wish to use/reference which make sense for my story – I intend to follow this path, in particular for the "bad guys". The "CIA/NSA" in canon seemed to be so focused on Fulcrum and The Ring, at the expense of other bad guys. In my research, it seems to me that the remit of both those agency is basically human intelligence on foreign governments (i.e. counter espionage of foreign nationals/agentsin the US and doing the same thing abroad), similar to what the Mossad does (the agency I'm most familiar with as an Israeli). This is something that I think I will rectify in my story. I probably won't bring in the Ring at all, and I will probably make Fulcrum something bigger, more sinister than it was in the show, perhaps more imbedded with foreign elements. I'm not quite sure. But don't expect every mission our favourite couple goes on to be in some way related to Fulcrum, is I guess what I'm trying to say. 5. I really liked the "ensemble" nature of the show, how even when there wasnt something necessarily going on with Chuck and Sarah, there was something funny/interesting with Ellie and Awesome, or Morgan, or the BuyMorons, etc. I will try my best to do this in my writing as well. 6. Without giving too much away, the major themes I hope to explore in this story are: Choice, Chuck and Sarah's relationship, Family/Reconciliation, and Sarah's growing disenfranchisement with the spy life, and learning how to be "normal" (if there is such a thing).

I hope you will like my writing and continue to read. I am rather happy with this chapter, overall, even if it is my first real crack at writing "action" sequences. I hope I didn't do too poorly. As always, comments are love. Happy reading.


Chapter 2: Chuck vs The Birthday

Casa Bartowski

Burbank, CA

2100 PST

It had been just over two months since their "conversation" in the interrogation room when they had finally decided to really be together. Just over two months since they had finally given into their feelings and, rather than let them destroy each other, decided to finally give themselves a chance at really being together, at being happy, and perhaps, someday, even a real future together. And they had been two of the most fulfilling – both professionally and personally – months Sarah could remember. They were some of the happiest months she could remember having in a very long time. She was, on the whole, very happy and very content. And all because she had taken a chance, and gambled on the sweetest, most wonderful, most caring – if altogether too nerdy for his own good – man she had ever met. She had, for the first time in forever, made a selfish decision and thought of her own happiness before the greater good, for once, and as far as she was concerned, her gamble had paid off in dividends.

They had been taking things slowly. Or at least, as slowly as two people who had been dating all but officially for nearly the past two years could. It was extremely important, for both of them, that they took the time to build a strong, understanding foundation for their relationship, and that meant going as slowly as they both could tolerate. Especially considering the complications inherent in their particular situation, they both had an unspoken understanding that they would rather go slowly, and build something that would work, long term, than something passionate, but short, that would end badly.

Neither of them were, of course, under the impression that one passionate, emotional discussion would solve all of their issues as far as relationships in general, and their relationship with each other in particular, were concerned. They were not naive by any means, and they were both going into this with their eyes open. They both, and especially Sarah, knew that sometimes it would be hard, and there would be difficulties and misunderstandings and fights. But she also knew that if they had each other, it would all work out in the end.

So they had decided to take things slowly. At least, slowly for a couple who had been essentially dating for almost two years, at any rate. After all, they had come to an unspoken agreement that they would count their cover relationship as part of their real one, as it seemed wrong not to. After all, they had spent so much time during their cover relationship getting to know each other, growing close and blurring the lines of emotional attachment to bring them to the point where they currently found themselves anyway, so it seemed silly to arbitrarily not count it as part of their relationship.

Of course, taking it slow didn't mean that their relationship was any less physical than anyone might expect a young couple who were dating as long as they had been, and who were very much in love, to be. Sarah spent the night at Chuck's if not most nights, then certainly more nights than she spent at her own place, and they certainly were not afraid to express themselves physically or explore themselves sexually, most nights multiple times. After all, after almost two years of having any physical expression of their feelings being officially verboten it seemed almost counter-productive, and certainly needless torture, to deny themselves now. Especially something from which they both took a great amount of pleasure – and not just in the expected way – from. It was like that first time in the interrogation room, and then that first night back at Chuck's had broken a dam that had been straining for ages to hold back a swift-flowing river, and now that the dam was broken, there was no way it was getting rebuilt.

The sex was only part of the equation, though. An equally important – and some might argue, even more important – element of their physical relationship was their non-sexual physical intimacy. The little things, like holding hands. Like the fact that Sarah felt more comfortable doing things like running her fingers through his hair, or straightening the creases on his shirt or helping him to do up his tie than she had before. The fact that Chuck and Sarah would both try to find any sort of excuse to be physically close, and preferrably touching in some way. Like how Chuck would often find excuses to touch her arms, or her shoulders, hips, or the small of her back, and his touch would always linger, just a few seconds longer than was strictly necessary. And the kissing, which was both frequent and varied.

Or the fact that if anyone had been paying attention – and thankfully, nobody was because the only other person around them in such proximity was Casey, and as long as the missions still were completed successfully and there was no reason for his superiors to come down on his ass, Casey, in his own words, "couldn't give a flying fart in space who was doing what with whom on their own time" – would notice that Chuck and Sarah would sometimes even covertly hold hands, or at least touch, in some way, in Castle, or that whereas before they would usually stand or sit on opposite sides of Casey during briefings, now they would always stand or sit next to each other. Sometimes, dangerously closely, though always far enough apart to not arouse suspicion. After all, Sarah was happy – perhaps even deliriously so – at the current turn of events, and was willing to fight for what they had finally allowed themselves to have, if need be, but that didn't mean she was stupid or wanted to go shouting alarm bells to the brass, either.

So they were taking things slowly...ish. To them, however, that didn't mean refraining from a physical, or otherwise mature, relationship, or arbitrarily set limits on themselves, as they were both very clearly in love and wanted this relationship to work. And because of that, for them, that meant, more than anything else, not rushing headlong into things, into commitments that they knew they weren't yet ready for like marriage and children and a house in the suburbs, or anything else besides; because they both knew that if things worked out as they both were clearly hoping for, they would have all the time in the world to have those things, and they both wanted to enjoy this time that they had in the here and now, just getting to know each other better, building a strong foundation. A foundation which, hopefully, would someday form the base of a life built together. Someday.

Whilst they were both content to not rush into things, the idea of taking things slowly, as such, didn't seem nearly as important to Sarah now, even so relatively soon. Yes, it was far too soon for her to be seriously thinking about settling down, getting married, and having Chuck's babies or anything remotely similar; she wasn't anywhere near ready for that, and truthfully, neither was he – it was, generally speaking, quite far in the back of her mind, and frankly she was surprised at how often the subject came up in her own thoughts, when not even a year ago she would have thought she'd never even have that luxury; she chalked it up to all the wedding fever that had all but consumed Casa Bartowski as of late – but she knew that she was all in.

She didn't see a future for herself with anyone else, and likewise couldn't see an image of her future in which Chuck was not a part. She was at least able to admit that to herself. Baby steps, after all. It would of course take time for her to be able to be comfortable enough to tell him that, and that made her sad that her own ghosts and insecurities kept her from being able to truly connect and give him the things he needed most from her, but she knew that slowly, in time, it would happen. She would get there, eventually. That was rather the point of this whole "not rushing headlong into anything" thing that they were doing. But now she knew, for herself at least, that they had all the time in the world. Because she wasn't leaving him, not now, not ever. Not Graham, not Beckman, not the CIA, not the NSA, not the entire combined strength of the entire United States Government, not anyone would keep them apart. She was his, and he was hers, and they were together to stay.

And so they found themselves engaged in what was quickly becoming one of her favourite activities: curled up on the couch at Casa Bartowski, Chuck's head resting in her lap as she ran her fingers through his thick brown curls, as they watched tv. It wasn't that she was a particularly "homebody" sort of person – she loved going out and exploring and doing things – and in actual fact, contrary to popular opinion, so did Chuck. They often went out, to dinner at various restaurants around the area, to cool bars, to museums,the zoo, the pier, to the beach in Malibu, and everything and anything in between. But despite it all, some of the more "honebody" activities were actually becoming her favourites; it was such a normal, mundane thing to do, and she liked that. She liked normal. Even though she knew that neither she or he would ever be completely "normal" she liked the idea of them being able to be "normal-ish", despite everything. She didn't know if that was in spite of, or because of, her globetrotting adventures in the spy world, but regardless, she and Chuck both quite enjoyed coming back to Casa Bartowski and just curling up together on the couch and watching tv or a movie, or listening to music, or even just talking.

Of course she still loved a good night on the town, especially dancing in night clubs, but she had quickly realised that that was more of a "her-and-Ellie" activity, rather than a "her-and-Chuck" activity. Despite the fact that the Intersect 2.0 had given him the ability to dance as good as any professional, Chuck was still her loveable, socially awkward, nerd who didn't get the appeal of putting on fancy clothes, waiting in line for hours, just to maybe get into a club full of people who, on the whole, held far too high opinions of themselves, pay an exorbitant cover and even more exorbitant prices for drinks, in some kind of former industrial warehouse that played bad music where they could – barely – grind on each other for a few hours, and leave much poorer, not much drunker, and covered in sweat. She did, of course, have plans to eventually drag him out to take her dancing one of these days, because she liked dancing and she wanted to show her man off, but until she could find a way to put her scheme into action, it was an activity that she and Ellie took part in, and left the boys at home to hold the fort.

Regardless of whatever other activies they enjoyed getting up to, either together or individually, they both enjoyed nothing more than going home – that is, Chuck's place – together, gorging themselves on takeaway, and cuddling up together on the couch with some kind of electronic entertainment. Especially in the middle of the week, when the more exciting things like cool bars, or nightclubs, or various other social events were basically non-starters. It was doubly the case as of late; with the fact that between his cover job at the BuyMore and his work as the Intersect, Chuck was basically working two full-time jobs, and all the craziness that came with helping Ellie with the wedding stuff, they were both often extremely tired by the end of their respective days, and watching tv or a movie together on the couch was about all the activity they could handle – not that either of them didn't enjoy it immensely.

And so, like most evenings as of late, they sat curled together on the couch, Chuck's head in Sarah's lap as she lovingly ran her fingers through his hair as the evening news came to a close. As it ended, Chuck picked up the remote control and began flipping through the channel guide looking for something else to watch – they were exhausted, sure, but neither of them were in any way ready to go to bed yet. Or, to go to sleep, either, for that matter.

As he flipped through the listings, Sarah saw something interesting that Chuck had immediately flipped past.

"Wait, Chuck, go back," she said, sitting up a little straighter and adjusting her position as she spoke. "The Big Lebowski is on"

"You like The Big Lebowski?" Chuck asked, trying to hide the surprise in his voice, and failing miserably.

"Would I have told you to go back if I didn't?" She asked, chuckling. "Don't look so surprised, Chuck," she said, putting her hands on his mouth and pretending to push up on his jaw, as if it were one of those comedic jaw-drop situations that sometimes happened in cartoons. "After all, The Dude abides," she finished, chuckling.

"Its just...I never would have thought you'd even seen it before, let alone..."

"You know, Chuck, before I became a spy, and before I met you, I did have outside interests and hobbies," she said, smirking. "Just because I haven't had the time to devote to them as you do..."

"I didn't mean it like that, Babe, its just..."

"I know, Sweetie," she said, chuckling at how cute he was when he struggled like he was currently doing. "I never said you did. But yes, I have seen The Big Lebowski before," she said, continuing, "its actually one of my favourites"

"I never would have expected that in a million years," Chuck said, smiling that trademark half-smile of his that she loved so much.

"Why not? It's a good film!"

"I know it is. Its a great film," Chuck readily agreed. "Its a cult classic. Its just that its, well, so...nerdy. I never would have pegged you for a nerd, Baby"

"I AM NOT A NERD!"

"You're right," Chuck said, chuckling to himself. "You're far too much of a beautiful, ass-kicking, badass, super-spy to be a nerd," he said, waggling his eyebrows in the trademark Bartowski eyebrow dance. Somebody was clearly in a good mood and had evidently gotten their second wind. He continued, "But you certainly have more than your fair share of nerdly qualities"

"Nerdly?"

"Yes, nerdly. An adjective referring to the state or quality of being a nerd," he replied, his eyes laughing at the back-and-forth they were having.

"With a reply like that, I think it is you, my dear boyfriend whom I love, that is the nerdly one"

"Oh, without a doubt," he readily agreed. "But I think you have much more nerdly qualities than you are willing to admit," he said, smirking.

Sarah leaned down and gave him a tender upside-down "spiderman" kiss. When they pulled away maybe seconds, maybe minutes, or even hours, later, she replied,

"Nerdly still isn't a word"

"Hey, if Shakespeare can make words up, then so can I"

"Delusions of grandeur, Sweetie?"

"Not at all," Chuck replied. "Just trying to get you to embrace your inner nerdliness. Besides, if 'google' and 'facebook' can become verbs, then I can make 'nerdly' into a word," he replied, and was met with a bark of light, feminine laughter from Sarah.

"Ok, so tell me more of these hobbies of which you speak," Chuck said, purposely affecting an archaic and overly proper manner of speaking because he thought it would be funny. And it was, at least to him.

"Well, when I was little, I used to love music. I mean, I didn't really have the opportunity when I was younger to really...find my own music that I was into, really, though, what with my Dad and...," she said, trailing off immediately when she realised what she had revealed. Or at least, was beginning to reveal. She had opened up a lot, much more than she had ever really thought possible, in an incredibly short amount of time, but that was one topic she was not ready to breach with him. Not yet.

Chuck, for his part, recognised her hesitance for what it was. He, too, had grown by leaps and bounds in the past two months. Whilst he of course – as anyone with the background he did would – had plenty of issues he still had to work on himself, and he was still far from the world's most confident man, being with Sarah in the way they were together now had done wonders for his confidence and self-esteem. It wasn't that he needed Sarah to boost his self-esteem, or that she was a kind of trophy by which he measured his own worth, quite the opposite in fact. But the fact that he consistently, day in and day out for the past few months had woken up, often in the same bed, with Sarah figuratively, and often literally, by his side, had boosted his confidence. Knowing that she was with him, that she chose him and wanted to be with him when she could, by rights, have any man she wanted, had helped him immensely in the ability to come out of his shell and roll with the punches – much like this one – much better than he would have done if all of this was still just a cover. He quickly side-stepped what had just happened in order to get the conversation on track as much as a way to show her that yes, he noticed what she did, and yes, he was okay with it. He trusted her to tell him when she was ready.

"Okay, so you didn't have much of a chance to find a lot of your own music when you were younger. And you already told me you didn't have much time for it when you were on your normal type of missions, but...what about now?"

"Well, like I said, I did always love music. That never changed. It was just sort of...different. But now, its like, I can enjoy music again, almost like a normal person," she said, smiling happily, as she continued, "even though we both know that you and I aren't exactly the normal type," she said, only partially joking.

"Well," Chuck said, playing along, "being normal is over-rated, if you ask me"

"My sentiments exactly," she concurred. "But I have certainly been enjoying rediscovering how much I love it," she said.

"Any favourites yet?"

"Well, I like most of the stuff you've played for me, and Morgan and Anna both gave me some bands to listen to, too. Most of their suggestions were pretty good, but obviously, I didn't like everything," she said.

"Well, that's to be expected"

She nodded her head in agreement as she continued.

"Jeff and Lester even gave me some recommendations for music too," she said, "though, I'm not sure how they found out I was looking for music," she said, thoughtfully, as she continued, "or whether they understood exactly what I was trying to find either. Their recommendations were rather...strange. Like, I know that I'm not exactly the most knowledgeable in this subject, but there isn't really a band called Jeffster, is there?"

Chuck barked out a loud, hearty, honest-to-god belly laugh at that comment.

"Well," he said, deciding to hedge his bets. "Sort of. That's their bad. They took their names and comined them to form the band name. You know, Jeffrey and Lester, Jeffster?"

"They have a band?"

"I think calling Jeffster a 'band' might be a stretch. I know you don't like them that much, but they are nice guys – usually – when it counts," Chuck said, by way of explanation, "but they're pretty out there, especially in their musical tastes. If I were you, I'd stay away from any of their musical recommendations, Jeffster or otherwise," he said, laughing, and Sarah readily agreed, joining him in laughter.

"Anyway," Chuck said, drawing out the first vowel of the word as a way of trying to get the conversation back on track.

"Oh, right," Sarah said. "I dunno, Chuck, I like a lot of what you play for me, and some of Morgan and Anna's recommendations I've really liked. I really loved the Nina Simone," she said. "Lately, though, I've been thinking a lot about that 'just lie here' song"

"What?"

"You know, the one that goes like, If I just lie here / will you lie with me and just forget the world?," she said, quietly singing the lyrics to the song whose name she couldn't remember.

"Oh, yeah, that one," Chuck said, brightening now that he knew what she was talking about – and also at the fact that he know knew not only that she had a beautiful singing voice, but also how she happened to remember and classify songs whose names she couldn't remember – before he continued, "its called 'Chasing Cars', by the way"

"Oh, well, then I like that song, Chasing Cars, a lot," she said. "I think because it reminds me of us"

Chuck raised his eyebrow questioningly.

"In a good way, or a bad way?"

"Definitely a good way"

Chuck paused momentarily, basking in the warm, comfortable feelings before smiling back at her, his eyes twinkling mischeviously.

"Wow, Sarah Walker, first a favourite movie and now a candidate for favourite song? I hate to break it to you, Sarah, but I think you might just be a real girl after all"

Sarah slapped his chest playfully.

"Hush, you"

After a few moments, she bent down again and captured his lips in hers once more, this time much more passionately, then the last time.

"I'm really happy right now Chuck," she said when they pulled apart again. And she was.

To say that Chuck made her feel good was an understatement. She loved the way he made her feel. He made her feel safe. It was, to be fair, a very novel feeling for Sarah, considering she couldn't remember the last time she felt honestly, and legitimately safe, let alone from the simple act of just being in someone's presence, but with Chuck, it was the case. Of course, all of her training and spy instincts scoffed at the very notion and scolded her constantly in her head for such doe-eyed, love-sick notions. She was Sarah Walker, a trained CIA badass. She didn't need any man to make her feel safe. She was more than capable of taking care of herself – if anything, she was supposed to protect him and make sure he was safe. In a very real sense, from a strictly professional perspective, the way he made her feel was dangerous. Because she knew that all the feelings she had for him, he most certainly reciprocated, and in some cases, even moreso. From a strictly professional perspective, she knew this made her job harder, because as much as she was willing to put herself in danger to make sure that he was safe, he would do the same for her. For Agent Walker, this was a problem, because her job was to keep Chuck – the asset, the Intersect – safe.

But for Sarah, the girlfriend, it made her heart melt and her stomach feel like it was doing weird acrobatics in her chest; despite the fact that she still wanted to be able to be sure that if she told him to stay in the car, he'd stay in the damn car. And to his credit, over the past few months, he had done reasonably well at honouring his word. But the fact is, that he would, and did, break his promise to listen to her as a handler when they were in situations where he thought she was in danger. Or where he thought – and he was usually right about these things, damn him – he could help. To his credit and her – well, Agent Walker's – constant chagrin, there had been multiple missions as of late where success had been clawed from the hands of defeat because he didn't stay in the damn car. And whilst her spy senses were telling her that this was a very Bad Thing, for the life of her, she couldn't bring herself to stay angry at him, because at the end of the day, it made her feel good. It made her feel loved. It made her feel safe.

And that was just how he behaved when they were on missions, to say nothing of how safe and protected he made her feel when they able to just be themselves. When they would watch tv or a movie on the couch and she would instinctively lean into him and he would wrap his arms around her, or how when they fell asleep, she always felt most comfortable curled into his body, with her head in the crook where his neck met his shoulders, and with his arms wrapped protectively around her. There were countless other examples besides, but they all had the same things in common: Chuck made her feel safe, protected, and most importantly, like she belonged.

But that wasn't it, not by a long shot. She loved how open he was. About his past – he had told her things, things about his past, about his family, about his hopes and dreams – things that she would have only dreamt of being privvy to only a few short months ago. But he let her in, without question, and usually without her needing to ask. Yes, there were things he didn't like to talk about, that were hard for him – usually having to do with his parents, somehow – and he certainly had his fair share of secrets and demons of his own to face, for sure. But she had no doubt that if she were to ask, he would "read her in" to those, as well. He willingly and freely let her into his life, wholly and completely, to whatever level she wanted, to whatever extent she wanted. And what was even more surprising, to her, was that she not only let him, but she wanted more. It was like she couldn't get enough; she wanted to know everything about him, all his quirks and foibles, everything that went on in his past, everything he hoped to achieve in the future; everything that made him him, and what made him tick. Only a few months ago, she would have never even thought having such a close connection with anyone, even Chuck, was possible, let alone that she would like it as much as she did. As clichéd as it sounded to her, even in her head, she thought she could spend her whole life trying to learn all there was to know about Charles Bartowski.

Of course, she was a little more hesitant to reciprocate and be open about herself, and her past, in particular, with him. But she was trying, and she was making an effort, and he knew that. What's more, he understood. Which was just one more quality of his that she was constantly amazed by, and made her want to spend as much time with him as was humanly possible was how understanding of her he was. Chuck just seemed, somehow, to intrinsically get her. He understood her in a way no one, not even her mother or father, had. Even on the occasions when they were having an argument, he seemed to just understand her in a way that boggled her mind, but at the same time made her feel loved and appreciated like nothing else ever had.

But what she loved most was how much of a genuinely good person he was. He was kind, and empathetic, and understanding. He always tried to see the best in people – in everyone, no matter who they were, even if they didn't deserve it – because that was just the kind of person he was. And she was thankful for that, because she knew that even though she still kept a lot of her past hidden from Chuck, she wouldn't forever. She couldn't. She could keep a lot of secrets from a lot of people, but Chuck was proving to be her kryptonite, in that department, so to speak. Of course, she was still far from the loose-lipped blabbermouths that seemed to be a family trait amongst the Bartowski clan, but she was already a far shout from the stone-faced professional she had been before she had met Chuck.

She knew that telling him some of her secrets would be hard, for both of them. To say that it was going to be difficult was the understatement of the millenium, she thought, and when she would eventually tell him, in bits and pieces, whenever that may be, she knew it would still require her to go so far out of her comfort zone that she wouldn't even be able to see it on the horizon. But she knew that she would do it, because she loved Chuck. But that didn't mean that the thought didn't terrify her. And that was one of the reasons why she was so glad that he was so kind, and so eager to see the good in people. It gave her hope. It gave her hope that, when she did eventually tell him of some of the things she'd had to do in her past – as part of her travels with her dad, and more importantly, as part of her duty – that he wouldn't judge her too harshly. That, aside from his death, was her biggest fear, after all. That she would finally let him in, finally tell him her past, all the horrible things she had done, and he would see her for what she was. A monster. A Bad Person who had done horrible things and justified them under the blanket of "in the line of duty", and that she was damaged goods, and couldn't give him the life he wanted – he deserved – and that he would leave her.

She knew, of course, intellectually, that he wouldn't. It was one of the reasons why she felt safe and comfortable enough to let him in as much as she had already. But that didn't stop that nagging, almost-paralysing fear from creeping into the back of her thoughts late at night. It was one of the many reasons why she was so glad he was such a good person, and loved him for it. He made her want to be a better person. A person he would want to build the life he dreamed of with, a person who would deserve to have that blessed happy, mundane, normalcy with him.

Which of course, led her thoughts back to the CIA and her career as an agent. She did love being an agent. It was one of the reasons why she had continued on her career path, even after the first few major hiccups along the way, despite the fact that she was recruited when she was still a minor. She loved the excitement, the adventure, she loved the satisfaction that came with first solving the "mystery" and then putting a stop to the bad guys.

But she also knew that a spy life and a normal life didn't mix well, and certainly not the one Chuck wanted. Not one with marriage and children, and all that sort of blessed normalcy. Things that before she had met Chuck she had never even realised she wanted, having buried that part of herself in the deepest, darkest corners of her heart a long time ago, but which was now becoming more and more apparent that she very much wanted. Someday. With Chuck.

She didn't really know when it happened, though she thought it must have started relatively early in the time they had known each other, but his pure, unadulterated optimism about that kind of life had rubbed off on her. She had always wanted that kind of life – a permanent place to call home, family, friends – ever since she was a little girl and her parents had split up, and then she had to live with her grandmother, and then all those years with her dad, never putting down roots, never making any lasting connections or relationships. She had always wanted that sort of life, deep down. But first when she was on the road with her dad, and then after her recruitment by the CIA she had buried it. Deep, deep down in the darkest, most secret corners of her heart, and had buried it under so many cons and hours of CIA training that even she had almost forgotten about it. But being with Chuck, seeing the way he and his friends and family lived, the life that maybe, one day, she could have – it had stirred something within her, and the fact was, that she was now able to recognise what it was. It was the beginning of the end of her spy career.

She would of course stay with the Agency for as long as she needed to, for as long as the Intersect Project was up and running, for as long as she was required in order to keep Chuck safe. She was the best, after all, and that wasn't self-aggrandising hyperbole either. That, coupled with the fact that she actually cared about him meant that she was naturally the best protector he could possibly have. Not only that, but she quite frankly didn't trust anyone else to protect him; no one else could or would protect him like she could.

On the whole, however, she was becoming increasingly disenfranchised with the entire "spy world" in which she lived; with living in shadows and with deceit being standard practice. She was ready to see the end. Yes, she knew that she would miss the excitement of this job, but she had begun to see it as just that: a job. Being a CIA agent was her job, it wasn't her life. Not anymore. And whilst she and Chuck were still ages away from being ready to take the plunge like that, she knew that it was not nearly as far away as it might have seemed. And there would be a time, in the not-so-distant-future when her timidity would just be a fond, if silly, memory. It was time, she thought to herself, to start thinking of the end game. Of beginning to plan hers – and Chuck's – exit strategy. It would take time, and planning, but if there was one thing she was certain, it would work out in the end. The CIA was her past, but Chuck was her future.

She knew that it would be hard, especially at first. It was going to be a long, and sometimes hazardous, road. She had been a spy her entire adult life. She didn't know how to be anything other than a spy. She didn't know how to be normal; how to live a normal life, keep a normal schedule, hold down a normal job, and do normal, mundane, every day things. It was going to be a very difficult thing to transition from being a spy, something which encompassed every aspect of her life, her entire being, to it just being a job for her, and eventually, to retirement and some normal job. She had no idea how she would do it, or what she would do with herself after the spy world. She knew she was going to have a fight – even if it was mostly with herself – ahead of her. But that was okay, because she was never one to back down from a fight before, and she wasn't going to start now. Because if there was one thing she was certain of, it was that her future was bright with possibilities that she had never even dreamed of before, and if it meant that in the end she and Chuck would be together, then it would all be worth it. It would be slow, and sometimes hard, but she would do it. Because the alternative was unacceptable.

Chuck, for his part, looked into her eyes and smiled brightly. He learned very early on that if he wanted to get a feeling of what she was thinking or feeling, he had to look in her eyes. Sarah had certainly come a long way, in an impressively short amount of time, in terms of her willingness to talk with him, and communicate openly. But she was still quiet by nature, and still had a hard time saying, with her words at least, some of the things that she wanted – and sometimes needed – to say. But what she was unable to say with her words, her eyes would always be able to say for her. Her eyes said so much more than her words ever could.

This time, it was he who initated the kiss, as he propped himself up from his comfortable resting place on her lap and kissed her soundly. When they pulled away, they both smiled happily at each other in complete understanding.

A little over an hour later, the movie ended and their stomachs were sore from laughing. Her face flushed from laughter and with a bright smile on her face, Sarah once more leaned down towards Chuck and said,

"Hey Chuck?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you have any plans for Thursday?"

"No, why? Do we have a mission you didn't tell me about? Cos I haven't flashed on anything," he said, suddenly anxiously wracking his brain for something he must have forgotten about, "or, no...don't tell me we have to inventory the armoury again, Sarah, you know how boring that is for me," he said, groaning.

Sarah laughed happily at his antics. Not that she found his discomfort funny, or anything, it was just he was so funny and so cute when he acted like that, and she couldn't help herself.

"No, don't worry, Chuck, we don't have a mission and we don't have to inventory the armoury," she said.

"Alright then, it looks like my schedule just opened wide up," he replied cheekily, and she smacked his arm lightly in response, which he countered by sticking out his tongue at her. They both enjoyed private time like this where they could just be themselves.

"Its just that Thursday is...well, Thursday is...my birthday"

Chuck's eyes were as round as saucers, and almost bugged out of his head.

"Your birthday? Like your birthday-birthday? As in the day you were brought screaming into this world?"

"That's generally what a birthday celebrates, Chuck," she said, laughing.

"Wait, your real birthday?"

"Well, its certainly not my un-birthday," she said. Two nerd references in one conversation? Who are you and what have you done with Sarah Walker? "So unless you know of any other kinds of birthdays..."

Again, he looked into her eyes. And yet again, they said so much more than her words ever could. He smiled happily, touched that she was able to open up to him like this as she was, especially so soon, and especially considering how secretive about her past and her personal life she had been in the past before they were officially together. He smiled brightly, but then his smile immediately fell when he realised what, exactly, she was saying, and he started panicking.

"Wait, so, Thursday, as in like, three days from now Thursday?"

"No, in a week. Next Thursday"

"Okay, so...a week and three days from now"

"Yeah"

"...That's not exactly a lot of time to plan anything"

"That's okay, Chuck, I'd really much rather just spend the day doing something boring and quiet with you," she said, smiling coyly as she continued, "maybe get some sizzling shrimp?"

Chuck smiled, but raised his eye brow, sceptically.

"Its your birthday, Babe, we'll do whatever you want," he said. "Though good luck convincing your new BFF," he said, smiling happily, as he slowly sat up and got off the couch, and offered her his hand to help her up. She took the proferred hand, and happily followed him into his bedroom.


The next morning, Casey was waiting for them in the courtyard.

"You're spending an awful lot of time over here, Walker," he said, without preamble.

"Its good for the cover, Casey, relax," Sarah said dismissively.

Both she and Chuck knew that that was a lie; a strategic lie to keep their cover that their relationship was, in fact, still a cover. They both knew it was a necessary evil, at least for the time being, but that didn't mean either of them hated it any less. Those words, those five horrible words, had, over the past almost two years had become Chuck's least favourite words in the English language. He hated hearing them. Of course, now that their relationship was no longer a cover, the fact that he knew, at least, that between the two of them, the cover was no more, made it bearable. The fact that he knew that she really was with him because she wanted to be with him, and that at the end of the day, once they got back home – or, to his place, at least – behind closed doors, what she came home to him, and whatever happened between the two of them was real, made it okay; made it able for him to deal with hearing it – a lot more than he would have liked – in situations like this, and not have his insecurities rear their ugly heads. That still didn't mean he particularly liked it.

"I mean after all Chuck and I have been dating for almost two years, now. People would think it would be weird if I didn't spend most of my time with Chuck, including nights at his place," she continued explaining. "Besides," she said brightly, holding up in her hand a bagel wrapped in a paper towel for easy consumption on the road which Ellie had given both her and Chuck on their way out the door, "whenever I stay over it comes with breakfast"

Casey just grunted before standing up from his seat on the fountain, folding up the copy of the Los Angeles Times he was reading, and began to walk towards the Nerd Herder without another word or glance.

The three of them had taken to riding in together – or, as far as their cover was concerned, "carpooling to work" – on the days Sarah stayed over. This had a few key benefits: firstly, there was less logistical confusion when Casey and Sarah didn't have to coordinate schedules, routes, transportation times and the like. Second, when they all rode in together, it was, overall, safer for all involved as it was much less likely for Chuck – or either of them, as well – to be snatched whilst en route. And finally, it helped to solidify their cover. It made sense for two coworkers who lived close to each other and were friendly, if not friends, to ride to work together. Especially with the economy what it was, and that their jobs were not the highest paid in the world. It made further sense that one of those co-workers' girlfriend would ride with them when she needed to, since she ostensibly worked at a similarly underpaid job in the same retail complex. And finally, it helped to avoid any awkward questions from anyone as to why Sarah, supposedly a shift-worker at the Orange Orange, drove a Porsche. Of course, they did also have plenty of cover-safe explanations for why she would own such a vehicle ready to use, if the need should arise, but riding in together significantly decreased the risk of that happening, and for that, they were all on board, even if Casey didn't particularly like it, and even if Sarah did miss driving her Porsche. It also had the unexpected – but happily hilarious, at least for Sarah – accident of convincing the other Buy Morons that both Chuck and Casey were more environmentally conscious than the rest of them and were doing their bit to "go green" by carpooling. This had led to the unintentional, and absolutely hilarious, consequence of Casey being "promoted" to the dubious honour of the Burbank BuyMore's "Environmental Officer", which never ceased to make her laugh, even weeks after the fact, when she reflected on it.

It was a slow Wednesday morning and the Buy More had only been open for a little over an hour; there wasn't a single customer in the store yet, as was more-or-less typical given the time of day and what day of the week it was. Chuck's shift had started about fifteen minutes ago, but due to some traffic on the way over, and a longer-than-expected morning debrief from the previous night's mission, he and Casey were just walking in the door. Usually nobody cared if the two of them were a few minutes late; after all it was Chuck Bartowski, who was basically the unofficial manager of the Nerd Herd desk, and John Casey, the most dilligent salesperson on the floor. They were almost always given a bit more leeway than any of the other slackers at the BuyMore, but for some reason, that day something had crawled up Big Mike's rear end and had, apparently, died there giving him a particularly foul mood.

The minute the two of them were in the door – and before they had even managed to go in the back to clock themselves in – he was on them like a fat kid on cake.

"Bartowski! Casey! Where the hell have you been? Your shift started fifteen minutes ago!"

"Sorry Big Mike, there was a lot more traffic than we expected coming in. Sorry, it won't happen again"

"Make sure that it doesn't...wait, what do you mean 'we expected', Bartowski?"

"Casey and I carpool, Big Mike. I thought you knew that. Isn't that why we're always scheduled for the same shifts?"

"Actually, it hadn't even crossed my mind," Big Mike replied. "In case you hadn't noticed, I've got more important things to do – like running this big, beautiful place – than worry about who rides with who!" He said in his own, very particular, way. He continued,

"Why do you ride in together anyway, Bartowski? Is there something the two of us aren't telling us?"

"Huh...wha..." Chuck said, confused, before what Big Mike was insinuating dawned on him. "What? Oh, no. No, no. No, no, no. Nothing like that Big Mike. I mean, not that there would be anything wrong with that, if that were, but, no. No. No, no, no. I have a girlfriend, remember? Sarah? You talk to her like everyday"

"Ah, yes. Sarah, that vision of loveliness," Mike said, wistfully, before continuing. "What she sees in an idiot like you is beyond me"

"That makes two of us, sir," Casey said, speaking for the first time.

"Shut up, Casey, I didn't ask you! So why don't you tell me why you have to show up late, because you and Bartowski just have to ride in together, huh!?"

"Well, Big Mike, you see," Chuck stammered, "Uh...well, uh, you see...Casey and I live across the courtyard from each other in the same building, so...uh..."

Casey decided he'd heard enough of Bartowski's bumbling, awkward attempts at protecting their cover.

"Environmentalism, Sir," he said.

"Environmentalism?" Big Mike asked.

"Yeah, you know," Casey continued, hating himself every minute, but he had committed to this legend, and now they had to stick to it. "Going green. Saving the planet. Every little bit helps," he said, selling it.

"Environmentalism, huh?" Big Mike repeated.

"Yep," Chuck chimed in, supporting Casey in the lie.

"Good," Big Mike said. "You two just saved me a lot of work today. Thank you, boys," he added, smiling for the first time in this conversation.

"Big Mike?"

"Sir? I don't understand"

"Corporate has been on my ass for months about this new corporate 'Go Green' initiative they want us to implement," Big Mike complained, by way of explanation. "They wanted me to hold an all-staff meeting at lunch and to choose a branch 'Environmental Officer' to promote green initiatives and reduce energy costs, that sort of thing. I mean as if they don't realise that I have a store to run. An electronics store to run," he said, grumbling. "But you boys have just saved me the trouble," he said, at once in a much happier, typical Big Mike mood.

"Great," Chuck groaned, sure that Big Mike had meant him for that particular role. A role which he believed was important, to be sure, but one which he simply had no energy to do, as of late.

"Not you, Bartowski," Big Mike said. "You've got your hands full controlling those two idiots," he said, indicating with his head that he meant Jeff and Lester, who were off in a corner of the television section, flipping through the channels, apparently trying to get porn to play on all the in-store televisions, and plotting something that was clearly going to be equal parts stupid and dangerous, and possibly illegal.

"You've got more than enough to worry about, Bartowski. Congratulations, Casey, you're my guy," he said, thrusting a rather large document – at least thirty pages, Chuck would have estimated – containing what looked like spread sheets, into his chest. "Take a look at these numbers when you get a chance, and get me some ideas. I'm gonna go call Corporate and get those monkeys off my back," he said, walking away leaving the two men dazed in his wake.

Casey growled in response as soon as Big Mike was out of earshot. Chuck knew that that was his cue to leave, unless he wanted to be victim to some particularly inventive ways in which Casey could show his wrath.

"Well, have fun with that Casey," he said quickly over his shoulder, as he was already walking away towards the relative safety of the Nerd Herder desk.

Later that afternoon, Sarah came into the store, as she usually did, to collect Chuck for lunch.

"Hi, Sweetie," she said, coming to him as he was sat behind the Nerd Herder desk, kissing him quickly, but tenderly. "Ready for lunch?"

"You bet," Chuck said, closing out of the internet browser he was using for not-exactly-work-related browsing in order to find ideas for a birthday gift for Sarah, due to the low volume of work they had at the moment. "Just let me clock out"

"Ok, whilst you're doing that I'm going to go talk to Casey. About carpooling for next week," she said, winking imperceptibly. Gotta keep up the cover. "Have you seen him?"

"Actually, I haven't seen him almost all day"

"He's in the back," Jeff, who had been lounging near the Nerd Herd desk, said.

"What? John Casey, on a coffee break? Has hell frozen over?" Sarah asked, laughing.

"He's not taking a break," Jeff said.

"No?"

"No," Lester, who had now come to listen in to the conversation, replied. "He's looking at the energy numbers for Big Mike, like the corporate tool I always thought he was."

"What are you talking about?"

"It turns out that Big Mike passed over your boy-toy here in favour of Casey for the store's 'Environmental Officer', or some such corproate nonsense," he said, making inverted commas in the air with his fingers. "You really dodged a bullet there, Charles," he added.

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah, looks like Chuck isn't Big Mike's golden boy anymore," Jeff said.

"How does that make you feel, Charles? Relieved that you don't have to suck at the corporate teat anymore?" Lester said.

"Well, I do still work here, guys, so that's probably a bit premature...," Chuck was starting to say.

"Ah, yes, and there it is," Lester replied. "I was worried this would happen," he continued. "You've gotten a taste of the power that Big Mike has, and now that he'd given it to someone else you can't handle it. Green isn't a very good colour on you, Charles," Lester said, leering. Chuck never could tell when he was being serious or joking around.

"But Lester, our uniorms are white," Jeff said, indicating his own white button down Nerd Herd uniform.

"Shhh," Lester said, patronisingly to his friend. "Shh, buddy, no...I think you need some quiet time, Jeffrey," he said, leading the other member of Jeffster towards the home theatre room.

"So...what was that about?" Sarah asked, as she and Chuck walked out of the store, hand-in-hand – which she no longer let go of once they were out of the store – as they went to lunch.

Later that evening, Chuck, Sarah and Casey were in Castle, prepping for their evenings' mission. It was something very simple and rather straightforward: a quick snatch and grab of one Anton Urishnikov, a Belorussian national who had connections with both the Russian mafia – most of whom were former KGB – and SVR, and who had become wealthy running a Russian domain-hosting server. It was suspected that he was using his connections and his legitimate businesses as a front for an international human trafficking ring, fronted under the guise of a mail-order bride service.

Despite the relative ease and straightforward nature of the mission, Casey had just emerged from the armoury and was prepping no less than four firearms. Chuck was eyeing him nervously as he spoke,

"You know, Casey, if you don't want to do that whole environmental thing for Big Mike, you don't have to," he said. "He isn't exactly the world's most attentive boss, and he's used to people slacking off, it'd be pretty easy to avoid it if you wanted to"

"No, Bartowski, I'm going to do it, and I'm going to do it well," he replied.

"Why?"

"A little something called pride and work ethic," he said. "Shouldn't you be ashamed that I have a better work ethic for my fake job than you do for your real one?"

"Hey!"

Casey growled in response. Chuck was learning quickly by experience that that particular growl meant that he should proceed at his own risk, so Chuck quickly avoided any further discomfort by side-stepping the question.

"Why do you care anyway?"

"Because, Bartowski, believe it or not, I am an environmentalist"

"You? Mr Reagan? An environmentalist?"

"Ronald Reagan was an environmentalist trailblazer"

"Yeah, if dismissing claims of acid rain as harmful to industry and de-regulating the EPA can be considered 'environmentalist', sure," Sarah said, coming into the main area of Castle at the tail end of their current conversation, carrying two large kit bags and putting them on the table.

Casey growled at her, but didn't say anything; he respected Walker, and more importantly, her service to the United States, so she was entitled to her own opinion, as wrong as it may have been.

"Like I was saying," he continued as if Sarah's quip hadn't happened, "Reagan was an environmentalist, and so am I. After all, if this planet goes tits-up, there'll be no more bad guys for me kill or animals for me to shoot," he said, in his oh-so-Casey way. "Just because I don't like wasting taxpayer money on useless, bloated, government regulation doesn't mean I want to destroy the planet," he finished.

"That was...very informative," Chuck said. "And very genuine, in an extremely disturbing and terrifying sort of way," Chuck said, as they finished their final preparations for the mission.

Casey again just growled. Chuck knew that growl. Ah, number seven. This particular growl Chuck was beginning to learn meant "Shut up if you know what's good for you, Moron".

With that, they grabbed the kit bags, left Castle, and headed for the van.

Soon enough, they arrived in the carpark of the BuyMore, a smile still on Sarah's face from her musings. This particular morning they arrived with plenty of time for their morning briefing with Beckman before Casey and Chuck's shift was to start. They hadn't been on a mission for a few days now, and so this morning's briefing was probably going to be short and brief, and mainly to remind them to keep vigilant and to report this evening with a status update. Nevertheless, they arrived almost forty-five minutes before their shift was supposed to start, so that they could leave themselves enough time, just in case there was more in the briefing than they had expected.


NSA Headquarters

Fort Meade, Maryland

0200 EST

Brigadier General Dianne Beckman was an impressive woman. She was equal parts tough as nails and sharp as a tack, and despite her small stature, she exuded an air of authority in her wake that left everyone she came into contact with no doubts in their mind that she was the very picture of authority. A woman in her position had to be. Anyone in her position – or wanting to be in her position – had to be, but this was doubly true for a woman. And she was exceptional in every sense. She was the first woman to be admitted to the Airforce Academy, from which she graduated top of her class. The first woman to be admitted to in-country combat roles, though back then they were called "combat support" for political reasons. She had one of the most colourful and storied – not to mention, successful – operational records of any field agent current or past, in the NSA, and she was the first female director of any US Intelligence service. She didn't get that way by sitting back and waiting for people to hand her things, or to trust that she would get what she deserved. She got to where she was by being the best, and by going out and demanding that people give her the respect and credit she was due, based on her actions.

She also got to her current position – and stayed there – by being able to see the big picture. By being able to see, and where necessary, manipulate, things for the big picture, for the greater good. By understanding, and being able to hold her own, in the volatile world of backroom Washington politics. She knew how the game was played, and was as good a player as anyone else. All of this made her a very dangerous, very valuable woman. As an ally, she was invaluable. And there was probably no worse enemy to have in all of Washington than Dianne Beckman.

And this was also why, after CIA Director Graham's suspicious disappearance – he was presumed dead, at this point, but there was no way to confirm this – rather than appoint a second co-director of the Intersect Project, to conform to its joint NSA-CIA remit, she was appointed to sole commander of the project. Which was why she was awake in her office much later than she would have liked, pouring over mission reports, surveillance footage, and assorted other administrative details and muttering under her breath some choice curses she'd learned over the years, directed at the as-yet biggest thorn to ever appear in her backside, one Charles Irving Bartowski.

Ever since the intersect had been implanted in Mr Bartowski's – a civilian, no less! – head, everything had been turned upside down and sideways. Her well-ordered, disciplined world of heirachy and order had been replaced by one in which some of the best agents at her disposal were wasting their time, and government resources, babysitting a civilian. And ever since then, and especially since she had assumed sole command of the project, she had spent an ever increasing amount of her time devoted to the intersect project and the exploits of what those in the know had come to start calling "Team Bartowski". Team Bartowski, indeed. Bartowski was, without a doubt the most undisciplined, argumentative, pain in her ass she had ever had the misfortune to work with. He always questioned her orders and instructions, challenged her decisions openly, and often directly disobeyed the instructions of one, if not both, of his handlers, leading to mountains and mountains of paperwork that, frankly, she rather wished she never had to deal with. Yes, it was true that through his often unorthodox methods the intersect team often clawed a successfully completed mission out of certain failure, and yes he was proving much more useful than had been previously thought, but at what cost?

And then there was Agent Walker. Chuck's primary handler and protector, CIA Agent Sarah Walker was another wild card in the mix. Dianne didn't know much about her besides her reputation, before she was assigned to this project. According to her reputation, she was a consummate professional, and Graham's best agent. In fact, in the intelligence circles, she was known as Graham's enforcer: always followed orders to the letter, no questions asked, and often accepted "off the books" missions for Graham, doing his dirty work that no one else would do. She was the best at what she did, which was complete missions, often employing her skills to dispatch numerous targets in any given mission. She was a cold-stone killer. So why, then, was she so seemingly open, empathetic, and caring towards the asset? There were numerous examples she could recall where, rather than simply force the asset to do as he was told, she talked to him quietly in private, after which he would always be more receptive to instructions. She seemed to care for his emotional and psychological well-being more than any other asset-handler relationship she had ever seen before, either in theory or in practice. And certainly much more than she should, by rights, need to be. This, coupled with the fact that she had only the loosest of authority over her, considering that they were part of two different agencies and had never worked together before, made Walker a wild-card. Dianne was, therefore, cautious. But she knew that something was off in Burbank. Either Walker had fallen victim to Mr Bartowski's charms – and Beckman would admit that he was charming, after a sort – and had become emotionally invested and compromised, or she was just that good. Even better than she had been led to believe. Either way, it was working, for now, so she would simply wait and observe before she determined her next course of action, but there would be action taken, eventually.

Beckman was a military woman, through and through. She understood the value and importance of hierarchy, chain of command, and being able to not only give, but also to follow, orders. And as the head of the NSA, the military branch of the United States' covert intelligence services, she was used to giving orders, and having them followed. This had been happening less and less the more time Project Intersect was up and running. This was the unfortunate side-effect of having the intersect implanted into a civilian, and having a primary handler who coddled him like Walker did. Yes, for now, their methods were working, and she couldn't rightly complain, too much. But it was the principle of the thing. Chain of command, regulations, these existed for a reason, and one of these days, something would go terribly, terribly wrong, and the consequences could be dire, not just for one mission for one team on one op in suburban Los Angeles, but for the greater good as a whole, and that was something that would have...catastrophic repurcussions, and not just for her career.

Of course, as the head of the NSA, she had one of the highest clearances in the country, behind only the President, more or less. And with this clearance, she had used it to gain information necessary to fulfil her role as commander of the Intersect Project, should the need arise. So she was well aware of Mr Bartowski's particular "lineage". He was the son of Stephen Bartowski, codename Orion. The best scientist the CIA had for decades and the creator of the technology which had become implanted in his son's head. Perhaps it was coincidence, or some sort of cruel irony, but she thought there was some kind of poetic justice to it. The son of the Intersect designer, who had been AWOL and on the lamb, running from everyone and seeing ghosts everywhere, was now the vessel for his father's invention. To say nothing of Frost. Given her clearance she knew all about Agent Frost and Project Isis, her "betrayal" – at least officially – and all that went along with it. The fact that even though she had gone dark and the trail had run cold almost twenty years ago, there were still occasional whispers or unconfirmed sightings of her whereabouts and activities, usually coming out of Russia or elsewhere in the former Soviet Bloc. No, this could be an opportunity. The fates may have given her the key she had been searching for for years without success in the person of the younger Bartowski. Perhaps she could find a way to use him to find Orion, and possibly even Frost. If she was really lucky, he would be able to not only find them, but make it possible to extract one, or both, of them. If she could get that out of him, then, perhaps everything else would be worth it. The big picture was what was important, here, and so she put up with the little things. For now, anyway.

Little things like Agent Walker's behaviour. Or like what she was currently faced with: the fact that she was being sent tampered surviellance footage of the Bartowski residence. Whoever was doing the tampering was clearly very good, because it was almost perfect. It was barely noticeable. To anyone who did not know exactly what they were looking for, it wouldn't even be noticeable. However, unfortunately for those involved, she did know what she was looking for. She could tell it had been tampered with. Large sections of surveillance footage had been cut from the feed, she assumed to remove evidence of something. She had a pretty good idea what, too, but of course without the video proof, she had no evidence. There were large sections cut from both outside, as well as inside, surveillance, all of which was later expertly stitched back together almost seemlessly in order to appear as if it it hadn't been tampered with. It was, in fact, very good. But the fact remined, that she could tell it had been tampered with. What she didn't know was who, or why.

It could easily have been either Agent Walker or Mr Bartowski, both of whom would have the necessary technical skills required to do so, especially if they were working in concert: Walker had the means to access the footage, and Mr Bartowski was more than skilled enough with technology to edit the footage. Of course, if this was the case, it would more or less confirm her suspicions of their daliance. Which Walker would also know, which makes her less likely to have been involved.

This left only two other options which she could see.

Option one was that Major Casey was somehow involved; this was an option, yes, but one which she highly doubted, as his loyalty to his country, the greater good, and the agency had been shown to be complete and unflagging. He had no motive and, by her analysis, no intention to sabotage his career in such a way.

Which left Mr Bartowski operating alone. Which was entirely possible. He was clearly smitten with Walker, and she had to admit that he was a highly intelligent man who was capable of taking initiative and formulating plans when it suited him. That, coupled with the Intersect in his brain would have given him more than enough ability to pull off such an operation. Of course, she had no proof, so she couldn't do anything about it, even if she wanted to. But more important than that was that, if this was his doing, it showed that he had the potential to be something so much more than he was. Maybe he had potential in this business, after all, and all those taxpayer dollars wouldn't go to waste, after all. She'd have to wait and see, to be sure, of course. She'd have to observe him and the team more closely, but if here suspicions were correct, she might make a "super agent" out of him yet, after all. In which case his little daliance with Walker might even come in handy. Perhaps, should the need arise, she could use it for leverage for his compliance, if it was needed. Perhaps to get him to willingly enrol in Agent training, or any other of a number of scenarios playing through her head, almost simultaneously. Yes, it might not be the world's kindest thing, but this was not a career for those pre-occupied with kindess, or right and wrong. And even though she did like Mr Bartowski, after a fashion, in her own way, despite his many faults, she couldn't lose sight of what was at stake. The big picture. The greater good. That was what was most important. If she lost sight of that, the consequences could be dire.


Castle

Burbank, California

One week later

11.20 PST

They had been called to Castle for an unscheduled briefing with Beckman. Apparently, Anton Urishnikov had been a harder nut to crack than they had expected, but after a few days of interrogation he had finally broken. And, according to the inforation Beckman relayed to them, he was a much more diversified bad guy than they had originally thought. They knew that he had run a human trafficking ring, and that he had connections to both the Russian mafia and SVR, but what they didn't know – and only found out through many sessions of interrogation – that he had his fingers in many more bad guy pots than that. Apparently he was, amongst other things, a "munitions importer" which was intelligence code for "arms dealer". And apparently, what he specialised in was very powerful, very dangerous, bombs.

Beckman had called them in to Castle to brief them on this turn of events. She was frustrated by this, mostly because all the leads they had on him had already been chased down and found to be dead-ends. They had no idea why he was in Los Angeles, what he was trying to unload, to whom, or for what nefarious purpose. Essentially, she had information, but it lead no where, which meant there could be no mission. They couldn't even observe him, since he had already been picked up, and if they released him, he would obviously know they were on to him and would throw them off the scent. Essentially, then, she ended the short briefing with an admonition that they be vigilant – especially Chuck – and that they report any new information, or if Chuck flashed on anything, to her immediately. It was, on the whole, unsatisfying for all parties involved.

Casey had already left Castle and returned to the BuyMore via the entrance in the break room, as his "break" had ended, and Sarah and Chuck were to return via the Orange Orange, as it would make more sense that when he "disappeared" during his shifts from the BuyMore that he was sneaking off to spend time with her. They had finished climbing the steps and were about to re-enter the Orange Orange, when Sarah looked in the monitor and saw none other than Ellie Bartowski walking into the Orange Orange.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, but loud enough for Chuck to hear.

"What's wrong? Do we have company?"

"Yes," she said. "But not the kind you're thinking"

Chuck just raised his eyebrow quizzically.

"Your sister is here"

"So?"

"So what's she doing here, Chuck?"

"Well...you guys are friends, right?"

"Right"

"Well, its probably something to do with that. I'm sure its nothing nefarious. If my sister were an arms dealer or some kind of bad guy, I'm sure we would have figured that out by now," he said, laughing.

His laughter was infectious. It only took a moment for Sarah to realise how silly she was being. This had nothing to do with the spy world. Their cover wasn't blown, neither she or Chuck was in danger, there was absolutely nothing untoward going on here. In fact, it was positively ordinary. Friends visited each other at work sometimes, when they could find the time off work, right? She thought to herself, and then, she remembered. Of course. How could she be so stupid to have forgotten? Ellie, her friend...no, her best friend, had made plans with her a few days ago to go to lunch. She had asked her what time worked best for her and everything. They were going to go to lunch, because Ellie had a few days off work from the hospital, after finishing a block of back-to-front 30-plus hour shifts, and she had told Sarah that she didn't know what she was going to do with herself. Sarah, in a moment of pure civilian thinking, had suggested that they go out for lunch one day, even suggesting that they could meet at the Orange Orange and drive somewhere together. It wasn't that Sarah didn't want to, or anything like that. Ellie was her best friend – well, not including Chuck – and that was far from cover, since their friendship only really started blossoming after she and Chuck had had their conversation in the interrogation room. She wanted to go out and do normal things with her normal best friend. It was just such a new situation for her.

"That's right," she said, to no one in particular. "We were supposed to go have lunch today. You don't mind, do you, Chuck? You won't feel neglegted if I get lunch with Ellie instead of you today?"

Chuck just chuckled and flashed her one of his signature half-smiles.

"Why would I mind? I like that you two are such good friends," he said. "Go. Have fun. I'll spend lunch playing Call of Duty with Morgan," he said. "He's been feeling a bit left out lately, anyway," he said, smiling, and moving for the door to let them into the Orange Orange itself.

"Wait," Sarah said, putting her hand on his, stopping him from moving forward.

"What?"

Sarah moved in front of him, and mussed up his hair and undid his tie ever-so-slightly, and performed similar alterations to her own appearance.

"We can't just both walk out from the back now that she's there, it would seem a bit too weird," she said. "We should look like we were in the back fooling around"

"Well," Chuck said, smiling suggestively, "why don't we just, ya know, actually fool around?"

"Because if we started, I don't think you or I would be able to stop at just fooling around, Sweetie," she said, softly. "And as much as I wouldn't mind that in the slightest, we don't exactly have time for that," she said, smiling, and kissing him quickly, but soundly. When she pulled away, she was already opening the door, and whispered, "Follow me out in one minute"

"Hello, can I he...oh, Ellie, hi!" She said, brightly, walking back behind the counter of the Orange Orange from what, for all intents and purposes to the civilian customers of the shop, was the storage room in the back.

"Hi Sarah, you ready for lunch?" Ellie asked brightly.

"You bet, just gimme five minutes," she replied. "I bet its nice to finally have some time off, huh?"

"You could say that again," Ellie said, truthfully. She even sounded tired. "Hey, Sarah, did you know that your top button is in the, uh, wrong hole?" Ellie asked, amused, pointing to the offending item on her friend's shirt.

She had a pretty good idea of the source of her friend's particular state of dress, which would also explain why she seemed distracted and slightly out-of-sorts, as she closed up the register and went to clock-out for her lunch break.

"My...huh...wha..." was Sarah's reply. Not missing a beat, Chuck chose that moment to enter the Orange Orange from the "back room".

"Oh, I see," Ellie replied, smirking happily at the two love birds. "Hi there, little brother"

Chuck, who was helping himself to some frighteningly brightly-coloured yoghurt spun on his heel at Ellie's voice.

"Ellie! Oh, Ellie, hey," he said, in his cute, rambling way. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm picking Sarah up for lunch," she said. Not one to waste an opportunity to needle a rise out of her baby brother, she continued, "you know, cos we're friends and we made plans to get lunch. What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"Oh, uh...you know, Sis...just, uh, getting some yoghurt," he said, lifting the dish in his hands as evidence for this claim.

"Uh-huh. So that's what the kids are calling it these days, eh? Getting some yoghurt?" She said, smirking devilishly, as a matching shade of red crept up her brother's and best friend's faces, which made her laugh happily. She was really happy for her brother. And for Sarah. For both of them. They were so good for each other, and clearly made each other very happy. And that made her happy.

"Go back to work, Chuck, I promise I'll take good care of your girl," she said, shooing him out.

The drive to the restaurant was short. Sarah let Ellie decide the restaurant as she had a far greater knowledge and experience in that regard than she did. She chose a nice, but still casual restaurant that had an American menu consisting largely of burgers, steaks and salads, but with an ever-so-slight Italian influence. As it was towards the beginning of the business lunch hour the restaurant was still relatively empty and they were seated almost immediately and were just as promptly greeted by a server who asked for a drink order. Sarah looked to Ellie for guidance on this, as well.

She ordered a glass of white wine.

"Wine, Ellie? Its not even noon," She asked. She was not being judgemental in the least – at least, she hoped she wasn't, it certainly wasn't her intention – she just wasn't used to drinking wine during the daytime when she was outside of Europe.

"Hey, this is the first time in almost fifty hours that I haven't been at the hospital," she said, feigning insult, but really teasing her friend. "If I want some wine, I'm going to have some wine," she added, emphatically.

Sarah also ordered a glass of wine – though she intended to stick to only the one glass as she still had to have her wits very much about her – so that Ellie wouldn't feel bad about being the only one drinking alcohol. They also placed their food orders: a chicken caesar salad with an extra order of grilled chicken for Ellie, and a bacon cheeseburger with curly fries for Sarah.

"I can't believe you can eat like that and look like you do," Ellie said, clearly jealous.

"I wish I could say that its cos I work out a lot or whatever," Sarah said, conspiratorially. "It would make me sound so much...better...than I am," she said, chuckling. "And I do – but nothing like Awesome – but the truth is its mostly genetic. I guess that's one thing I can thank my parents for," she said. "And that's good, too, because I love cheeseburgers."

Ellie laughed heartily at that response. Yep, Sarah and Chuck were like two peas in a pod, that was certain. Chuck's idea of a perfect dinner date was cheeseburgers or ten-dollar chinese dumplings. Not that there was anything wrong with either of those things, or that she wanted her brother to blow money he didn't have, pretending to be some sophisticated high roller he wasn't at fancy dinners, but for most women, those sorts of dates wouldn't cut it. Most girls she knew – which, granted, were mostly of a certain type, to be fair – liked fancy dinners where they had to dress up so they could show off themselves and their men as appropriate, and, since this was LA, after all, be seen in the "hip" places in town. But Sarah wasn't like that at all. Of course she liked nice meals, but she didn't care how fancy, or very much not fancy, they were. Or how much it cost, or what the dress code was, if any. As long as the food was good, and she had Chuck as company, she had a good time, and that was all she cared about. And that made Ellie smile. She was good for him, and he was good for her. Not to mention, of course, she enjoyed having the pretty blonde as a best friend with whom she could do things like this lunch, or go dancing on weekend nights when Devon had on-call shifts, and a lot more besides.

Rather than comment on the oblique reference to Sarah's family – which was the first she had ever freely volunteered, obliquely or otherwise – Ellie ignored it, thinking it best to let the comment lie as it did. If Sarah wanted to bring the topic up, she would. She didn't want to make this fun lunch awkward or uncomfortable by forcing a topic which Ellie wasn't entirely sure Sarah was ready to talk about. Instead, she latched onto the cheeseburger comment.

"You and my brother really are meant for each other, then," she said. "I swear, if he could eat cheeseburgers every day, he probably would. Or at least switching off between cheeseburgers and burritos. I swear, he eats like he's twelve," she said, conspiratorially.

"I know, right? I mean, I love cheeseburgers and burritos as much as the next girl. And chinese dumplings. I've loved pretty much every restaurant we've gone to together," she said, giggling. "But at the same time, I try to get him to try something new like Ethiopian or Indonesian, or something like that, and he acts like I'm trying to get him to shoot a puppy," she said, laughing in frustration at Chuck's reticence to try some of the more exotic gastronomical options one could find in Los Angeles.

Ellie laughed happily at both her admission and the way she phrased her exasperation. Yes, Sarah was definitely good for Chuck.

"I remember when he was fourteen years old, god it must have been like his...freshman year of high school, I think? By that time it was just me and him, and he went through this phase where the only thing he would eat was cheeseburgers for like, three weeks. It was absolutely crazy," she said.

"No way," Sarah gushed, happily listening to Ellie's stories of Chuck when he was younger.

"Oh yeah," she said. "It was terrible. The house stunk like a burger restaurant for months afterwards, and for a ah...untraditional...family like ours, all that meat got expensive," she said. "Luckily Dad at least made sure that we had money, even if we didn't have him, so that was good," she said. "But yeah, after that, I don't think either of us went anywhere near a cheeseburger for at least a year," she said, laughing.

"What finally got him out of his phase?"

"Jessica Stevenson"

"Who is Jessica Stevenson?"

"Ah, Jessica Stevenson was Chuck's first crush. Well, not counting the Mom from Family Matters, or Bo Derek. She never really gave him the time of day, of course," Ellie began, before correcting herself. "Actually, no, that's not true. She and Chuck were friends when they were younger, and they were still sort of friends then. But then around the middle of that year, puberty hit her like, overnight, and Chuck was lovestruck, and started acting all weird around her...you know the drill"

Sarah just smiled and nodded knowingly. Did she ever.

"So what happened?"

"She invited him to her birthday party. Her birthday party at a sushi restaurant. I told him ahead of time that they weren't going to have cheeseburgers, but he either didn't listen, or didn't believe me, or something. I don't know. But, from what I've been able to piece together from what he, and Morgan, and Jessica's older sister told me, he kept trying to order a cheeseburger at the sushi place. The chef got frustrated and yelled at him, Jessica called him stupid," at this point in the story, Sarah, who was up until now smiling and laughing at tales of younger Chuck, stopped smiling and emitted a very Casey-like growl. Nobody called her Chuck stupid. Nobody. Even if it was over ten years ago, and this Jessica-whoever was some nobody she didn't even know.

Ellie noticed this change in demeanour, and smiled inwardly as she finished the story.

"And the rest of the kids, except for Morgan of course, laughed at him, and he ran home and spent the rest of the night in his room. Wouldn't even let me talk to him. The very next day we both had sushi for the first time," she said, smiling fondly. "And the rest, I guess you could say, is history"

"Was she a brunette?" She asked, barely able to grind out the words without literally growling.

"What?"

"Was. She. A. Brunette.?" She asked, punctuating each word as it if it were its own sentence.

"Yeah, uh, I think so...why?" Ellie asked, confused and slightly frightened by her friend's sudden change in demeanour.

"What is it with Chuck and these fucking brunettes who always break his heart?! I swear to god if anyone ever hurts him, I'll..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Sarah, calm the hell down," Ellie said, placing her hands up in front of her in what she hoped was a placating and calming stance – what she remembered from her trauma and shock class oh so many years ago – and spoke again, "Sarah, calm down it was over ten years ago. And yeah, Jill was brunette too, but..."

"And Lou"

"Who is Lou?"

"Not important"

Ellie thought that this Lou person very much was important, but she recognised the tone of voice in her friend, and realised that that explanation could wait as long as it needed to. What was more important was reminding Sarah of the here-and-now.

"Fair enough, Lou's not important," she agreed. "But you know what is important?"

"What?"

"You, Sarah. You are important. Yeah, these brunettes definitely hurt Chuck, but they also made him who he is today...they made him the man you fell in love with," she said, placatingly, and the corners of Sarah's mouth began to twitch. "And I know that you still have a bunch of insecurities about your relationship, and I'm sure he does too, I mean with our past and his history with relationships, can you blame him? But he's with you, Sarah. He loves you. He didn't love any of those other girls, not even Jill. Not really. He really loves you, though, Sarah. Believe me, I can tell. Just like I can tell how madly in love with him you are. You are both madly in love with each other, and you would never hurt him, Sarah. And you're blonde. So, let's, ah, forget about those horrible brunettes..."

"Heartbreaking sluts," Sarah muttered in a not-quite-soft-enough-to-not-be-overheard voice.

"...Yeah, sure, whatever works, Sarah. Let's forget about them, and just try to remember the here-and-now. We're having fun, we've both got great guys who we are madly in love with and who are madly in love with us, and...I think I'll have another glass of wine."

That did it. Ellie broke the spell, and Sarah was back to normal almost as quickly as she had "switched". As soon as Ellie finished, the server came and placed their food in front of them, and Ellie ordered another glass of wine. After which they spent a few moments in quiet silence as they tucked in to their food. Soon enough, though, Ellie spoke again.

"So, would you like to tell me why I had to find out about your birthday from my brother, when he asked for help getting you a gift?"

Sarah's eyes went wide as saucers. Ellie continued.

"You know, part of this whole 'best friend' thing means that we tell each other things. Confidential, secret things, even. Hell, you could even tell me things about Chuck – although in certain things maybe the less detail the better – and you can trust that whatever goes on between the two of us, stays between the two of us. You can tell me things you know. Anything, really. But certainly important things like the fact that its your birthday! Come on, Sarah! Throw a girl a bone, here!" She chastised. "I mean, how do you expect me to get you a gift, let alone throw a party, with less than a week to do it in? Huh?!"

"Well, Ellie, you see..." Sarah began.

"And don't you tell me any of this, 'I don't want a gift or a party' nonsense. Its your birthday, we're going to celebrate. Okay, maybe not a big Bartowski party, per se, but something. You and my brother can lay around eating pizza and watching movies any day. We're going to do something special for your birthday, and I won't take no for an answer"

"But Ellie...I really don't...but I...really, its not...," Sarah had been saying whilst Ellie was stating her case. Eventually, however, she realised that she was fighting a losing battle. Ellie Bartowski soon-to-be-Woodcombe was a force to be reckoned with. Maybe if she agreed, she could have some kind of veto power on something too big or crazy.

"Fine, Ellie," she said, not completely cheerily, but no where near as distressed about it as she thought she would be. "But nothing too big or too crazy. Please?"

Ellie smiled broadly. How could she say no to a request like that.

"Trust me, Sarah, leave everything to me. It'll be great," she said, as she ordered and received her second glass of wine.

"Speaking of birthdays," Ellie said, reaching under the table and fishing a bright green envelope out of her handbag. "Happy birthday," she said, handing it to Sarah. "I know its not much, but I hope you like it"

Sarah opened the envelope and withdrew a birthday card. She quickly read the card and its funny – if slightly lewd – message, and then saw inside the card was taped a gift card, and a reservation confirmation for two – she assumed it was for Chuck and herself – to a fancy new sushi place that had opened a few months prior to rave reviews. It was even one of those places which celebrities and "regular people" mixed and mingled in the same restaurant. It was said to be that good. Sarah had mentioned a few weeks ago that she had always wanted to go to one of those types of restaurants and would love to try that one, in particular, but it was so expensive, and even if she wanted to, they would have reservations booked solid for months. There was no way she would get to try it any time soon. Or so she had thought, when she told Ellie about it; apparently, she now was in possession of a gift gard which could easily pay for enough sushi to feed both her and Chuck for a night, and a reservation for 20.00 the following Saturday night. Ellie was really amazing at buying gifts.

Before she could even say anything in response, Ellie left her seat and wrapped Sarah up in a strong hug.

"You're welcome, best friend," she said, before Sarah had even had time to say "thank you".

Twenty minutes and three more glasses of wine (all consumed by Ellie) later, they were finished eating and waiting for their bill.

"Sarah, I wanted to ask you something"

"If its if I'm okay to drive you home, the answer is yes"

Ellie giggled more than she perhaps should have. That was the wine talking.

"Noooooo," she said, extending the vowel for longer than she needed to. "Although, that is probably a good idea," she added, sagely. "But I wanted to know if, well, if you'd like to be a bridesmaid at my wedding? I mean, Chuck is standing up for Devon, and it would be nice if you'd be able to be paired together, and I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to, but I'd really like it if you would, and..." she was saying, starting to ramble, and only slightly slur her words, due to the five glasses of wine she'd consumed in under an hour. Boy, when those doctors were off the clock, they really were off the clock.

"Ellie, I'd love to," she said simply, hugging the older girl.


That night's mission had been a complete bust. Six hours of observation and three covert sweeps through the area, came up with absolutely nothing to show for it. There was no sightings of any bad guys, their surviellance picked up nothing out of the ordinary, and Chuck had flashed on exactly zero things. All in all, it was a wasted night, and all three members of Team B were more than a little frustrated after the television which was used for briefings and debriefings in Casey's apartment went blank. Chuck and Sarah were heading out the door when Casey called out.

"Walker, hold on a second"

After a few seconds of hesitation and silent communication between Chuck and Sarah, she paused in her stride and went back towards where Casey was sitting at his laptop, and Chuck continued out the door, to cross the courtyard to go to his apartment, where he knew Sarah would catch up with him.

"We have a problem, Walker"

"What kind of problem?"

"You and I both know the answer to that question, and also both know that neither of us are going to say it out loud for plausible deniability," he said, pulling a thumb drive out of his laptop and handing it to her.

"I'm going to change out of these clothes. Watch the files in the folder labelled 'tax returns 1997-2007'. Password is 'gipper', all lowercase."

When Sarah opened the folder she saw a collection of video files, named with dates and times, at least 20 of them. She opened and watched each one, in order. They were video clips that had been, aparently, cut from the video surveillance. They were all clips of her and Chuck in what would have been compromising positions – clips of them talking openly about their feelings, clips of them having sex, clips of their post-coital conversations, clips of them just being themselves at Chuck's, when they were alone, in positions and situations that would be difficult to explain as "part of the cover" to their superiors. By the end of the last clip she was very sure what she was seeing: evidence of Casey tampering with the surveillance video feed to protect Chuck. To protect her. She didn't understand why he would do such a thing – tampering with evidence, lying to his superiors – these sorts of things went against his very being. But in that moment, she was very, very glad that he did. She was so caught up in what she was seeing on the computer screen and the related thoughts swimming around her head that she didn't hear him when he came back down the stairs from getting changed. He only noticed him when he placed a glass of Johnny Walker Black in front of her.

"I've never been one for ladyfeelings, and I'm not going to start now, Walker," he said, simply.

"But why?" was all that she was able to get out.

Casey paused for a moment to collect his thoughts and then drank down the slug of whisky.

"Look, Walker," he said. "Partners protect each other, and until this assignment is done and over with, you're my partner, so I'm going to protect you. I can't say that I think whatever it is you two have going on is a good idea, and I think for most people in our line of work having these kinds of personal connections could only be a bad thing; it could compromise you, or the mission, or your ability to make the right call in the heat of the moment," he began.

"Sometimes it helps to know what you have to lose. What you have waiting for you to come back to," Sarah countered.

Casey grunted in a way which seemed to agree with her, begrudgingly.

"Maybe. Look, as long as what you two have going on doesn't affect our ability to do our mission, and as long as there's no reason for anyone to come down on me, I don't care what you two do in your own time," he said, echoing his position on personal privacy which she knew well. "Its none of my business. But between you and me, I think in this case, you may be right. Whatever the two of you have going on is working. Between you and the Intersect, Bartowski is becoming something resembling a passable agent, when he wants to be, and you're sharper than ever, and we've been nothing but successful. I think you picked a good one, Walker," he said. "But you also need to figure out what you're going to do with this, long term, and you need to figure it out soon, because I can't keep protecting you like this. Beckman isn't stupid, soon enough she'll figure out something's up, order a 49B, and when she does, things are going to get ugly, fast. So sort your shit out, Walker."

In that moment, Sarah knew exactly what they needed to do. They needed to find a way to be able to be themselves, in private – have some real time for themselves when they could just be Chuck and Sarah – away from the prying eyes of surveillance feeds, and missions, and supposed covers and everything associated with the spy life. They could run, of course, but that was not a decision they should take lightly. Not that they wouldn't be successful; she'd been creating and shedding identities since she was 11 – more than half of her life – and had enough cash stored away in various places and currencies, as well as enough safe houses in various locations to keep them hidden away until long after their trail had run cold, and then they would only ever be ghosts to whomever would look for them, if they didn't want to be found. But rather, she thought, that should be a last-resort decision. A fail-safe option to leave close to her – well, their, really – chest, in case shit ever really hit the fan. Also, she could use her ability to have them disappear as leverage, should the need arise. Also, running was so very permanent. And she knew how close Chuck was with his family and his friends, and how close she was quickly becoming with Ellie. It would be hard to just disappear without even having the ability to say good-bye. She wanted to find a way to figure this out that didn't require them to run, if at all possible.

There was another, much more attractive option. One which, if she played it right, they could even play it off Beckman to get it officially sanctioned. It was all a matter of the sell. Her spy senses immediately agreed and liked this alternate solution, which frightened her slightly. Not because she didn't trust her spy senses – she trusted them implicity for things where missions were concerned, and this was mission related, at least partially. But this was a very big decision, and it wasn't one which she wanted to make as Agent Walker. She wanted to make this decision as Sarah. After all, this sort of thing was the reason they were taking it slow in the first place. But as she thought of it, she realised that she – not Agent Walker, not her spy senses, or her training, or her professional aliases – but she, for herself, thought more and more that it was a good idea. And more importantly, that it was something that she was ready for.

Sure, perhaps the means of coming to this decision, and the timeline wasn't exactly what she had originally pictured in her head, but life rarely happens the way you plan it or imagine it, after all. That was something she had learned a long time ago. As she thought through her options, she felt more and more comfortable with this particular option, and in fact was even finding herself excited.

Of course, there was also no small amount of second-guessing herself and fear as well. The way she grew up, living on the run with her dad, in and out of hotel rooms and sublets for the majority of her life, and more of the same once she joined The Company. She had never had a proper home before, not since her parents split up, really, and that was a very long time ago. She hadn't had any examples, or role models – unless you counted Chuck and his family – on how to have a normal life, how to live like a normal person like that. Settling down and putting down roots didn't exactly come naturally for her. And that thought frightened her more than anything else. Not the thought in and of itself, but rather the thought that they'd try, and she wouldn't be able to do it, or they'd mess up the good thing they had, and it would all fall apart. That frightened her more than anything.

She scolded herself for that kind of thinking. She was Sarah Walker, after all. She could do anything she put her mind to. And as she talked herself down from the fear creeping up her spine, she realised, as it dissappated rather quickly, that she was actually much more content with the decision than she had thought. Yes, she had some fears about that sort of thing, but who doesn't? But she had made a decision, and she was going to stick to it. It might take some time getting used to, and it would certainly require some effort on her part; what they were going to do was so far out of her comfort zone she doubted whether she'd be able to see it on the horizon. But nevertheless, she knew that this was the right decision. They were ready. She was ready. And, more importantly than that, she wanted to. She was excited.

Honestly, truly, excited, as and for herself. It was perhaps a less-than-ideal impetus for this decision, sure, but she was sure that it was the best decision that could be made. And she was excited. For herself, as just Sarah, the real girl, and for Chuck, her boyfriend. This decision wasn't being made as a spy for a cover, but as a girl who wanted to take the next step with her boyfriend. They were ready for this step, going slow be damned. They were ready, and she was excited. Now, all she had to do was figure out a way to tell him. Or ask him. Whatever. It was with this knowledge and confidence that she stood up from where she was seated, poured herself another drink, raised her glass to Casey in a silent toast, downed it in one, and, after thanking him, left Casey's apartment.

She and Chuck were going to move in together. And it was going to be real.


She had taken a bit longer than usual to get back to Chuck's, but that was because she had taken a taxi back to her hotel room first, in order to pick up her porsche, for an extemporaneous late-night date, just her and Chuck. Somewhere quiet, simple, romantic, and most important, nowhere near any of those pesky cameras or bugs. Finally, she had arrived back at Casa Bartowski, and was greeted with smiles from multiple Bartowskis and one Woodcombe from the couch as she walked in.

"Hey, what took you so long?" he asked, standing up awkwardly from his sprawled position on the couch to greet her and kiss her.

"Oh, not too much, just took a bit longer closing up the Orange Orange than usual," she said, casually making sure their cover was maintained where it needed to be. "And I went back to my place to pick up my car, since you and Casey obviously left earlier than I did, since you are lucky enough to work somewhere with more than one employee," she said, laughing.

"I thought we'd go for a little drive, or something. Maybe a late-night date. Get some hot dogs or something?" She asked, kissing him softly, and giving him pouty eyes. Not that she ever really needed to use them on him, or would ever use them in an any way nefarious way, but it was good to know that if she needed to manipulate him on occasion for something relatively innocent, the pouty eyes certainly worked.

"Sure," Chuck said, smiling. "So, do I get to drive?"

Sarah replied with a deep, hearty belly laugh before replying.

"Uhm, no, Chuck. You're not even getting behind the wheel of Sasha until we're married," she said, not even realising the bomb she had dropped on the room – basically admitting to Ellie and Devon, and probably Chuck, too, if he hadn't figured it out already, that she fully intended to be with him as long as he would have her, and fully saw them getting married someday in the hopefully not-too-distant-future.

"And even then, you'd have to catch me in a really good mood to have me let you drive her," she said, spinning the car keys around her finger as she threaded the fingers of her free hand with Chuck's.

"Come on, let's go for a drive," she said. Chuck readily agreed and followed her towards the door.

"Sorry for intruding Ellie, Awesome. Don't wait up," she called behind her as she practically dragged Chuck out the door and towards the waiting Porsche.

They had gone for a nice drive down through Beverly Hills and Hollywood, eventually ending up at Pink's hot dog stand. Sarah parked the car in a lot adjacent to the hot dog stand and waited by the car as Chuck waited in the queue to buy their hot dogs.

After about fifteen minutes, he returned carrying two hot dogs and two drinks.

"Okay, here we go," he said proudly. "Two world-famous Pink's hot dogs, with everything on it, and two cokes," he said, handing her one hot dog and a can of coke. "For you, milady," he added, feigning upscale propriety.

"Good sir," she jokingly responded.

For a few moments, they stood quietly, leaning against the bonnet of the car quietly eating and enjoying each other's presence. Soon, though, Sarah broke the silence.

"Chuck, can we talk?"

"Sure," he said, suddenly nervous. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Chuck. Trust me, everything's great"

"Sarah, you might be able to fool everyone else, but you can't fool me"

"I'm serious, Chuck. Nothing's wrong. Everything's great"

"Okay, then why'd you drive us all the way down here to talk?"

"I wanted a hot dog, Chuck," she said. He didn't buy it, of course. It was a lame excuse, and she knew it. "Okay, fine," she said, as she noticed his raised eyebrow. "But I promise its nothing bad, okay? Don't freak out"

"I promise," he said. "What's up?"

"I drove us out here so that we'd be away from all of those pesky cameras and surveillance, and we could be alone," she said. Chuck just waited patiently for her to continue.

"Do you...Do you...," Come on, Walker, get it together. "Do you want to move in together, Chuck?"

Chuck's eyes nearly bugged out of his head, and were as big and as round as saucers.

"Are you serious?" he asked, incredulous. "I thought we decided that we should take things slow"

"Well, yeah, we did...but...I think, maybe, that's a bit silly, don't you think, Chuck? I mean, we've been together for almost two years. And I wind up spending the night at your place most nights anyway, so I mean, its not that big of a deal, really. I think...I think I'm ready. No, I know I'm ready. Are you?"

Chuck smiled broadly.

"I am so ready," he replied happily, grabbing her tightly and pulling her close to him, causing to her to involuntarily squeal happily, and attacked her lips with his own. When they separated several minutes later, he continued.

"Not that I'm complaining or anything, Sarah, and believe me, I'm really excited about this, but..."

"But...?"

"But, well, I'm just wondering if this is a relationship thing, or a spy thing"

Sarah sighed heavily. She really should tell him the truth. If she hoped for them to be able to get to the place where they could have what Ellie and Awesome had, she would have to. She had to tell him.

"Its a relationship thing, Chuck. I promise. It is," she said.

"But?"

"But...I would be lying if I said there wasn't some spy stuff involved, too"

He looked at her with a look that made her knees want to melt and her insides turn to jelly; but it was also a look that definitely said, without him even needing to say the words, out with it.

She told him everything, explained the whole situation; she told him how in addition to being the next step in their relationship that she really, honestly did want to take, for them, not for any kind of cover or spy stuff, that it would make everything easier. It would shore up their "cover" with Beckman and their superiors at Langley, it would give them more privacy to be themselves, because since it would be her private residence there would be no bugs and no surveillance, and it would also help them keep the secret about the 2.0 safe a little while longer, at least. Since they had decided to keep the 2.0 secret from everyone else, at least for the time being, that was a primary concern of hers – of both of theirs – because they knew that if they knew about the new capabilities of the 2.0, they would try to manipulate him into becoming more than he was already, and neither of them wanted that.

"Chuck," she said, laying everything on the table for him, "I know that this sounds more to do with spy stuff than us stuff, but I promise you its not. I really want to do this, for us," she began. But there was a spy element to it, too, and she would be lying if she didn't think that was important as well.

" And when they find out about the 2.0, let alone you and me – and trust me, they will, eventually," she continued, "I'm worried that they're going to try to use that against you – against us – try to turn you into something you're not, something that it would kill me to see you turn into. I don't want you to become a spy, Chuck. Honestly, I don't want you to be exposed to this kind of life any more than you absolutely have to be. I don't want you to turn into the kind of person who lies easily, and has no problem burning people if he needs to, or even killing, if he needed to..."

"I wouldn't Sarah, you know that, I could never. You know me, I can't...I don't even like..."

"I know that Chuck. I know that because I know you. And I love you. I know that that's not the kind of man you are, and its one of the things I love most about you," she said. "But that doesn't mean when Langley find out about the 2.0 and about us, that they won't try to hold it over you – over us – to try to use it as leverage to get you to do things for them that they want, that...well, let's just say that aren't in your nature," she continued.

"I don't want that to ever happen, Okay? Yes, I need to you learn enough, and do enough to help us be successful at missions and to keep you alive, and I know that it must sound really confusing, me telling you two different things at once, but there's a difference between doing enough to help us keep you alive, and doing what you have to do and...changing. If you become a spy, it will change you, Chuck. And I don't want to see you change. I love you, for you, right now, for who you are. Intersect or no intersect. Being with you is the most wonderful thing I have in my life," she said, continuing.

"Seeing you, the way you are with me, and with your family, with your friends...its making me want to...remember...to...reconnect...with who I am. With who I was, before I, well...you know. Its one of the many reasons I want us to move in together. For us. Not just for the security, or whatever, or to protect our secrets from Beckman and Langley. For us. For me. You have to believe me that this is something that I really want, Sweetie," she said passionately.

"Its just that...promise me, Chuck. I need you to promise me. I promise I will always be here by your side to help you along the way, but promise me that whatever happens, you won't let it change you. Promise me that I won't lose my Chuck"

"I promise, Sarah," he said, without hesitation.

"Good," she said, smiling broadly. "And believe me, its true what I said about moving in with you, Chuck. Yes, the added security for our spy stuff is icing on the cake, but I want to do this for me. For us. It will give us – me, especially – something real, something normal, to look forward to, to come home to, if that makes sense"

"It makes total sense, Baby"

"So, what do you say, Sweetie? Wanna shack up with me?"

Chuck grinned devilishly at her, gave her the patented Bartowski eyebrow dance, and began to once again attack her mouth with his.

They didn't get back to Casa Bartowski until very late that night.


The next day

Castle

Burbank, California

0800 PST

"Remember what we talked about last night Chuck," she said quietly as they walked down to Castle through the Orange Orange for their morning briefing. "Let me do the talking, and if Beckman asks you a question, just follow my lead"

The briefing was rather straightforward. Just a rather quick update on the status of the Urishnikov investigation, and the fact that at present, there were no leads, as the mission the previous night had come up with nothing. Beckman was just finishing up the briefing, ending with scheduling another observation mission for the night of Sarah's birthday.

"Actually, General," Sarah said, steeling herself for what she was about to do. "Chuck and I have a...previous engagement...that evening"

"A...you and the asset...what?"

"Chuck and I have a social engagement"

"A social engagement? Is that more important than your job, Agent Walker?" Beckman asked icily.

"Well, General, its sort of...related...we're working on our cover," she said casually.

This piqued the General's interest and stayed her anger, which was what Sarah was hoping for.

"Working on your cover, Walker? How so?"

"Well, General, Ellie – Chuck's sister – has been much more...involved in our supposed love-life than we had originally anticipated when this project first began," she said, hoping to lie to the general so that she would believe that this was as much a burden on her, and hopefully on Chuck as well, as possible, rather than something that they were actually both looking forward to.

"What does that mean?"

"What you would expect...asking questions that are getting harder to answer, inviting me to more and more 'family' gatherings, things that are making it harder and harder for us to find excuses for me to avoid without arousing suspicion," she said.

"Which was why Chuck had the idea to tell her it was my birthday," she said. She had a feeling playing up Chuck's spy skillset in this case could work to their advantage. If she could make her believe that Chuck was helping think of ways to decieve his own sister for their cover, this might just work.

"Is this true, Mr Bartowski?"

"Yes General"

"Why her birthday?"

"Well, General," Chuck said, nervously doing just as he was told. He was following her lead, and sticking to the plan they had thought of last night.

"First, Ellie loves to plan parties. Like really, really loves it. If you give her an excuse to plan a party, she's going to do just that. Second, we – none of us – have celebrated Sarah's birthday before, so its a blank slate. My sister doesn't know what Sarah's birthday is, so for all she knows, it really is her birthday. And finally, Sarah has been letting herself get closer to my sister, as anyone who has been dating their significant other for as long as Sarah and I have been 'dating'," he said, making sure to play up the supposed falsehood of the relationship with inverted commas with his fingers, "...would, and Ellie likes her. Thinks of her as a friend. A birthday party for a friend who happens to be dating her brother is the perfect opportunity to shore up any doubts she, or anyone else may have, in the cover"

"And are there any doubts in the cover?"

"Well, only in the sense that we're almost too convincing," Sarah said.

"I was asking the asset, Agent Walker," General Beckman said sharply. It took all of Sarah's willpower to choke back the biting comment that was on her tongue about referring to her Chuck as 'the asset'. This was far too important.

"Well, like Sarah was saying, General, we're kind of too good at it"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean, we're a little too good at convincing my sister and her fiance, and everyone else that we're in love and have been dating for, what, almost two years now? Something like that?" Sarah was proud at Chuck's attention to detail. It was almost scary how easily it came to him, but she knew why he was doing it – the same reason she was. They had to sell this as best they could, and his feigned disinterest might have been the thing that put it over the edge.

"And my sister is nosy. I mean, I love her, and she means well, but she doesn't mind her own damn business. And when she sees Sarah and I and thinks we're so in love and have been dating as long as we have without 'taking the next step'," he said, again with the inverted commas with his fingers, "she gets even nosier. Asking why she isn't coming around to the events she's been invited to, wants to know and pry and dig for things, and there is only so many times I can tell her to mind her own business before she gets suspicious," he said.

General Beckman looked genuinely thoughtful. This might actually work, Sarah thought to herself. After a short pause, Beckman smiled almost imperceptibly and said,

"Very well," she paused, gathering her thoughts before continuing, "and very good job, Mr Bartowski. Perhaps we'll find a good use for you, yet. A very well-thought out, logical plan. Good work. Is there anything else you might need to shore up the cover better?"

"Actually, General, yes there is," Sarah said. Now or never, Walker.

"And what is that, Walker?"

"Chuck and I need to move in together."

All eyes in the room turned on her, wide as saucers. Casey and Beckman's were genuine surprise, and Chuck was a good approximation of his original shock – obviously different now – from last night. He was a pretty decent actor, when he wanted to be.

"Say that again, Agent Walker?" Beckman said, her voice dangerously calm.

"General, you heard how Chuck said his sister keeps asking awkward questions of why he and his 'girlfriend'," now it was her turn to use the inverted air commas, "of almost two years haven't taken 'the next step' in their relationship. That next step is usually moving in together," she said simply.

"It should even work to our advantage, Ma'am," she continued.

"How so?"

"Well, with Chuck and I living in the same residence, he would have protection 24/7. Whenever he wasn't at work, or here with us at Castle or on a mission, I'd be able to keep a close watch on him, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid or get into too much trouble," she said, affecting an air of annoyance at her secret-boyfriend in order to sell her case.

"And because it would be my private residence as well, there would be no need for bugging the new residence, or constant surviellance, except perhaps the outside," she said. "It would save the government a lot of resources," she said. Those must have been the magic words, because Beckman warmed to the idea almost immediately after she uttered them, just as she knew she would. Beckman was the head of the NSA, after all, and had to keep in mind the Washington power politics involved with her decisions. Saving taxpayer money always went down well with Washington types.

"Okay, Agent Walker," Beckman said, cautiously. "Assuming I give the go-ahead on this, which I'm not saying I am," she said to clarify before continuing, "How do you propose to do this logistically? Have you already compiled a list of suitable apartments?"

"Actually, Ma'am, I have compiled a preliminary list already. I could send them to you now, if you'd like?"

This time, Chuck looked at her and the shock on his face was real. They hadn't had a chance to talk about this last night. The General simply nodded her ascent, and Sarah pressed the send button on her phone.

"As you can see, General, I think the best option for all involved is number one. It would be a very quick move, and since it is only across the courtyard from Chuck's current residence, the surviellance cameras already in place there wouldn't have to be removed or replaced," she said.

"Across the courtyard, what are you talking about, Sarah? You mean...what happened to Mrs Boghosian?"

"I saw a for rent sign in the window to her place a few days ago, Chuck, I don't know what happened to her. She's an old lady, maybe she died," Sarah said, a bit more harshly and coldly than she had intended.

She actually liked the little old Armenian lady who lived across the courtyard from Casa Bartowski, and she hoped that she hadn't, in fact, died; however the fact remained that her apartment was for rent. On the few occasions they ran into each other, Mrs Boghosian was always so friendly, and when she learned that Sarah was Chuck's girlfriend, and that she could speak some Armenian – however limited – she always tried to invite her inside for a glass of rakija and to stuff her to the gills with Armenian food. The first time she had accepted the offer, she was only allowed to leave after she was full to the gills and absolutely steaming drunk, and she had since learnt her lesson. But that didn't mean she liked the little old lady any less.

But she really wanted to have her and Chuck move into that particular apartment, more than any of the other options she had proposed. Chuck would want to talk about all this later, she was sure, but for right now, her focus had to be the mission. And her current mission was to turn Beckman supportive of this particular move.

After a few moments of deliberation and looking over the list sent to her by Sarah, General Beckman spoke again.

"Very well, Agent Walker, Mr Bartowski. You may proceed with this plan as presented, pending funding approval, but I forsee no problems," she said. After then addressing the scheduling problem with the next stake-out mission and sending Casey to observe the night of Sarah's birthday alone, with all three of them returning the following day, pending no new updates, she concluded her briefing.

"If there is nothing else, you are all dismissed."

In that moment, both she and Chuck had the same happy, yet unbelieving, thought running through their heads: I can't believe that worked.


Thursday [Sarah's Birthday]

El Camino Mexican Restaurant

Echo Park, California

19.30 PST

Chuck was really happy the way Sarah's birthday "party" had come together. This was mostly due to Chuck's insistence that Ellie consult him on the major decisions (such as location, and guest list). Ellie had originally wanted to throw Sarah a big blow-out typical Bartowski-style bash at the apartment, but luckily he had talked her out of that. Whilst it might have indeed been fun, it was not what Sarah wanted. Sarah wanted something small and intimate; hell, if they were all being honest, Sarah didn't particularly want a party at all, but she certainly didn't want a massive Bartowski party full of people she didn't know. This was, of course, a feeling he knew well and could easily relate with. So, he had talked her down to an intimate night out to dinner with family and close friends, and maybe some drinks or a show afterwards.

Understanding that Chuck understood his girlfriend better than she did, Ellie acquiesced to his suggestions rather more readily than he had originally thought she would. She had even asked for his input as to the guest list, and more importantly, the restaurant, even though she was more familiar with the restaurants in town which would be best suited to this type of affair. But Chuck knew right away which restaurant would be best. El Camino. The restaurant in which they had their first date – even if it was a cover at the time, no one but them had to know that. It was probably one of the best Mexican restaurants in town, could easily accommodate a larger party such as theirs would be, and it had added sentimental meaning. Ellie had originally protested his rather unadventurous recommendation for a venue; until, that is, he told her that it was where they had their first date, at which point her eyes became suspiciously misty, and she pulled him into a tigher-than-usual hug, and told him it was a great idea. His input for the guest list had also been equally important: if left to her own devices, Ellie would have had a party of nearly 20 people, most of whom Sarah only knew moderately well, at best. Chuck, on the other hand, was sure that Sarah would prefer a smaller, more intimate gathering of just those people whom she was close with. And so the guest list was narrowed down to Chuck and the guest of honour herself, Ellie and Awesome, and Morgan. It had originally also included Anna, his on-again, off-again, girlfriend, but since their relationship was currently in an off-again state, Anna had declined her invitation.

And so, Chuck and Sarah sat quietly in the Nerd Herder, as Chuck had pulled into the carpark in front of the restaurant. For added surprise, Chuck had – after a lot of convincing – convinced her to allow him to blindfold her, so she could be surprised when they got there, for the duration of the fifteen minute drive from Casa Bartowski to the restaurant. As soon as the engine was off, Chuck removed her blindfold, because he could tell she was starting to get antsy, and more than a little annoyed. She didn't exactly like surprises, after all.

"Ok, we're here," he said, removing the blindfold.

"El Camino? Chuck, is this..."

"Yeah, this is where I took you on our first date"

Sarah didn't say anything but smiled a broad, 1000-watt smile that could have lit up the entire carpark, but which was meant only for him.

"I take it this was more your doing than Ellies?"

"Uh, yeah," Chuck said, chuckling. "Believe me, if I let her have your way, we would be having dinner at a fancy restaurant in the Hollywood Hills with a group of at least 20 people, most of whom neither of us knew"

"I guess I should be thanking you, for being my knight in shining armour"

Chuck laughed heartily at that comment. Sarah was certainly in a good mood.

"You can thank me properly later," he said, waggling his eyebrows seductively at her, before planting a soft, tender kiss on her lips. When they pulled apart, he continued, "for now, that will have to do."

Sarah smiled happily. Maybe this whole "celebrating your birthday" thing wasn't so bad, after all.

Chuck reached behind him to the seat behind him.

"I got you something," he said. "Its not much, but I hope you like it anyway. Happy Birthday, Baby"

He handed her a small box, about the size box jewellery such as earrings and the like normally came in. It was wrapped expertly in shiny red paper, which she immediately tore off. She was right, it was a box which jewellery came in. There was no mistaking that trademark small box made of thick, white, cardstock.

She immediately lifted the lid to the box and saw a small charm. It was small, silver, and shaped like a heart. At the top it had a small loop with a locking clasp which would enable it to be attached to the silver bracelet he had given her over Christmas, and which she wore at every available opportunity – in other words, whenever they were not on a mission – because she loved to wear it, and he loved seeing her wear it. With this addition to the charm bracelet, she now loved to wear it even more.

"I know its not much," he was saying, "but I mean, I only had like two weeks to shop and there's not much I can afford on twleve dollars an hour, and..."

"Chuck," she said, cutting him off. "Its beautiful, and I love it. I love you. Thank you," she said, proving her point with a kiss.

"Happy Birthday, Sarah," he said when they eventually pulled apart.

"Thank you," she replied, her voice slightly dreamy. She extended her arm which the bracelet was being worn on. "Help me put it on?"

"Of course," Chuck replied, picking up the item in question and threading the clasp around and through the links of the bracelet and locking it securely.

"Well, now that that's taken care of," Sarah said happily. "How about we go inside? I'm starving"

Chuck couldn't argue with the suggestion.

As it turns out, the party that Ellie had planned with Chuck's input had been the perfect kind of celebration. It was just close friends, and so there was little to no awkwardness or having to pretend to like someone when they didn't; the conversation flowed freely and naturally, and with the aid of several margaritas per person, was both louder, freer, as well as both more personal and more bawdy than would have otherwise been the case. With the exception of a few deep blushes from both Bartowskis and Sarah a few occasions throughout the evening, it had been a very happy, friendly, lighthearted evening. The food, as well, was wonderful, as per usual for El Camino's. As they were finishing their last round of Margaritas, a mariachi band took the stage to provide entertainment. Chuck, upon seeing them, in his semi-drunken haze thought it would be a good idea to get Morgan to ask them, in Spanish, to serenade Sarah something romantic for her birthday.

"Dude, you know I don't know Spanish," Morgan said.

"Oh, come on Morgan!"

"Yeah, come on, Morgan!"

Cries from around the table, echoing the words coming out of Chuck and Sarah's mouths.

"Dude, you know I love you and I would if I could, but I don't speak Spanish. You know that. We learned that the hard way in fifth grade, remember?"

At that admission, Chuck burst out in peals of laughter over a memory which he did not, in fact, share with the rest of them.

"Come on, Morgan. You're like the worst Mexican ever. I thought you were a Mexican not a Mexican't," Chuck teased.

"Oh, haha, Buddy. Like I've never heard that one before," Morgan pouted. "I keep forgetting how mean you can be when you drink Margaritas, Bro," he continued. "You know, I don't really like Tequila-Chuck"

"That's okay, Morgan," a clearly intoxicated – but not to the point of sloppiness or losing control of her faculties – Sarah replied, giggling. "Because I loooooooove him enough for both of us," she said, purposely elongating her vowels far more than they needed to be in her speech, and then making a show of peppering his face – in particular, his cheeks – with sloppy drunken kisses.

If either of them noticed the "awws" and other similar sounds coming from Devon and Ellie, or the grumbling from Morgan, they made no show of it. The mariachi show had gotten the group in the mood for some entertainment and thought they might like to proceed to a bar with some live music. Sarah recommended they go to the underground club that Chuck took her to that first date to see a show, but upon further consideration – that is, they googled the club on their phones – they found out that there was a twenty dollar cover that night and no live band. So instead, they decided to head to a local "irish pub" that Devon knew that was in walking distance.

It was a nice pub, to be sure. And it was as close to authentic as possible in America, and certainly in Los Angeles. Or at least, so Sarah and Devon had said, and they were the only two people in their party who had actually been to Ireland, so the rest of them took them on their words.

They had been there for a few hours, and had all had a few more rounds. They were all having a great time and enjoying the company of each other; Sarah, in particular, was really glad that she had let herself be talked into this. This was the sort of things normal people did; go out with your close friends for your birthday – and she liked it. She certainly liked rediscovering this part of herself, and that she liked the possibility of living this way, in the future. But in the here and now, what she liked the most was the possibility of another round of drinks, which Devon and Chuck had just returned to where they were sitting laden with; a round of beers and a round of shots each.

After a quick toast, it was down the hatch with the shots – whisky, of course – and then the beers. And that's when it happened. Chuck, who was still standing, had been scanning his eyes idly around the room, when it happened. He flashed. She couldn't tell who exactly he was looking at, but she could tell he had flashed. He had that same glazed look in his eyes, and the same slight unsteadiness on his feet. Luckily, she wasn't so drunk as to be completely without her wits and she immediately stood up too, embracing her boyfriend, hoping to play off what has happened as them both having had just a little bit too much to drink.

In his ear, she whispered,

"Did you just flash?"

"Yes...do we have to switch to spy mode now? We're having such a...goood...time...," he said, slurring his words slightly. He was a bit drunk, and so was she. It wouldn't be a good idea to do anything now, other than to take note of the name and then report it in to Beckman in the morning.

"No, Chuck, we'll just go home and sleep it off, and report it in the morning. Who did you flash on?"

"See the guy in the hat, with the tattoos and piercings in the small round table by the door?"

"The muscular guy?"

"No, the other one"

"Yeah"

"That's Seamus Mahoney. IRA sniper, at least 20 confirmed kills, leader of a division of the revived IRA that is breaking the peace agreements lately. Connections with both the PLO and Russian Intelligence. There's also something about a British general, and a hotel downtown. I'm not sure what, though. But uh, yeah. Bad guy. Bad, bad guy," he said.

Devon took that moment to notice that the two of them were still standing awkwardly as they had been right after he had his flash, and they were both apparently leaning on each other – Chuck because the flash combined with the alcohol had made him legitimately unsteady, and Sarah, because she wanted to make it look that way. Plus, it was fair to say that she was also more than a little drunk herself.

"Well, it looks like somebody's had just a little bit too much to drink tonight, eh, Bro?," he said, drawing them out of their conversation. "I think its time we get these two love birds home, what do you think?"

"Devon, honey, leave them alone, they're fine," Ellie was saying before she was cut off by Sarah.

"No, its okay, El. He's right, we're both pretty drunk and we both do have to work tomorrow. I think a cab home would be lovely, thanks, Devon," she said.

"No problemo, girl-bro," Awesome replied. Apparently his frat boy nature became more pronounced when he was drunk. Kind of like how some people's accent become thicker when they drink, but with frat boy idioms and mannerisms.

Ellie called them a taxi, and after saying their goodbyes and receiving one more round of "happy birthday"s from everyone else, Chuck and Sarah left the bar, and after a short taxi ride, arrived back at Casa Bartowski to sleep it off.


"Well, it seems that once again, you seem to have been in the right place at the right time, Mr Bartowski," General Beckman was saying in that morning's briefing. "That single flash has single-handedly given us a direction on the Urishnikov case," she continued, as various photos and copies of official reports appeared on the screen.

"Seamus Mahoney was one of the IRA's top snipers during The Troubles, and is currently the head of the Derry Brigade of the newest incarnation that is violating the peace agreements. He has connections to the PLO, Russian Intelligence as well as possible connections with Iran and even Fulcrum. It was previously believed that he was barred from travelling outside of Ireland," she said.

"But then a few days ago, Interpol picked up suspicious chatter of travel out of Ireland on a possible fraudulent passport," she said, super-imposing images of Seamus Mahoney and a Canadian passport. "He supposedly arrived in Los Angeles three days ago, under the pseudonym Michael Johnson"

"Three days ago...that would have been after we already picked up Urishnikov," Sarah said.

"Indeed, Agent Walker. Which is why we weren't aware of the connection until the Intersect flashed on Mr Mahoney last night," Beckman continued. "Apparently, Mahoney used his Russian Intelligence connections to contact Urishnikov to arrange transport of...something. We aren't sure what. Whatever they had planned, it was airtight. Urishnikov didn't get picked up until he was sure Mahoney was in the country, and when he did, he was just co-operative enough on details that we wouldn't be able to connect with our Irish friend until it was too late"

"They were throwing us off the scent," Casey stated matter-of-factly.

"Exactly, Major Casey," Beckman confirmed.

"But it still doesn't make any sense," Sarah said. "What could the possible connection be? And even if Urishnikov is just in it for the money...what could Mahoney's target be? Why here in LA and not Washington, or even London?"

"An excellent question, Agent Walker," Beckman said. "Based off the data gleaned from Mr Bartowski's flash, it seems that the likely target is this man," she said super-imposing yet another picture on the screen. This time it was a British Army General in full dress uniform. "General William Hunstman, British Royal Grenadiers. Early in his career, he was in command of the Derry theatre of combat in the British operations in Northern Ireland, and is now head of the British-led task force on counter-terrorism," she continued.

"He is in town this week to speak at a conference held in a hotel downtown. This is the most likely target. The General has made a lot of enemies both early in his career, and certainly now, as well. This could be Mahoney working alone, or as the agent of a renewed IRA campaign, or it could be more sinister, with his connections to both the PLO and Iran, or possibly even Fulcrum, we are at this stage unaware as to who ordered the hit, but we are almost positive that this is the target."

"But what's the connection with Urishnikov? What's he got to do with all of this?" Chuck asked.

"Marksmen, and snipers especially, are superstitious, Bartowski," Casey said. "He's probably having him ship him his gun"

"But why not just get a gun here? I mean, there are plenty of gun shops around, and if he didn't want to be caught on the radar, there's the black market, too..."

"Gun shops don't sell to foreign nationals, Chuck," Sarah said. "Its illegal and they can lose their liscence. And the black market guys won't sell to anyone they don't trust, and that would take too much time for his liking, I'm guessing," she continued.

"His gun probably is personalised, maybe some tricked out specs that he thinks helps him work better that he can't get from another weapon," Casey chimed in. "Which really means that he's not as good as he thinks he is, but it also means that could give us an edge"

"I still don't understand how this connects to Urishnikov, General," Chuck said.

"You don't have to understand, you just have to stop it," she retorted. But, she softened her voice slightly, realising he was just trying to learn so he could help. "The last shipment of Urishnikov's, according to a bill of lading, were intact computer servers," she explained.

"What kind of special conditions would that require, in your expert technical opinion, Mr Bartowski?" she asked in as non-sarcastic voice as she could manage. If he was willing to try to learn, she should try to help where she could. Her future could depend on it.

"Well, aside from secure transportation so that they don't get bumped around too much during transportation, a climate controlled, secure room clean of dust and human bacteria and that sort of thing would be best...," Chuck began.

"Which would also provide the perfect cover to smuggle weapons," Sarah said, catching on. "It would be locked and secured and so wouldn't get checked by Customs," she said.

"Plus the climate control would protect the ammunition and boring in the barrel to ensure that it fires the same here as it does back home," Casey said.

"So you're saying that he's smuggling a sniper rifle into the country as computer equipment?" Chuck asked, clearly aghast at the suggestion.

"That's exactly the conclusion we've come to, Mr Bartowski," General Beckman said. "And your mission is to recover the weapon and aprehend the sniper before he attacks the General at his speech tomorrow night"

"Me? Why me? Isn't this more of a...non-Intersect mission?" Chuck rambled. "I mean, what could I possibly contribute...?"

"Shut up and quit bitching, Bartowski," Casey growled under his breath and Sarah slipped her hand covertly and surreptitiously into his and squeezed, for the briefest of seconds, in order to comfort him, before removing it again.

"Normally, I would agree with you wholeheartedly, Mr Bartowski," Beckman said. "The secrets in your head are far too dangerous to risk on a mission like this. However, we will need your particular set of skills," she said, continuing.

"Under interrogation, Mr Urishnikov has revealed the nature of the security system which is in place on his shipment containers," she said, ominously. "In order to open them, it requires this," she said super-imposing an image of a hi-tech key on the screen, "a specially-designed key of his own design and which Mr Mahoney is already in possession of, as well as the pin code. We need you to help re-acquire the key, and hopefully a combination of the intersect and your own computer skills will enable us to input the right pin code, in order to acquire the weapon before Mr Mahoney does, and then to apprehend him in the process"

Chuck gulped nervously. He did not like the sound of this.

"So you remember the plan, Chuck?" Sarah asked as they went over the last minute prep before the mission.

"Yes," Chuck said, simply. He didn't like the plan. Not that it was overly dangerous to him or anyone else – in fact, in the grand scheme of things, he thought it was one of the safer plans, and he thought he had Sarah to thank for that – but rather because it involved him intentionally exposing himself to pain.

Upon learning that the pub they went to the previous night was actually an IRA front, they were to return again that night, using their "cover" of being boyfriend and girlfriend and order a quiet drink. Casey would be posing as a bartender and security. Once Mahoney made an appearance, Sarah was to go to the bar and let him flirt with her, at which point, Chuck was to make a big show of being jealous and angry, and intentionally get into a fight with Mahoney. This was the part he didn't like. Intersect or no intersect, 2.0 or not, it still hurt getting beat up, especially when you were intentionally going to get beat up. Regardless, this was the plan, because once that happened, Sarah was to play the role of the worried girlfriend, and pull the fighters apart, with the help of the "bartender" Casey; using that as the opportunity they needed to steal the key from him. At which point, she would make a big show of dragging him out of the bar, pretending to be angry with him.

It was, overall a very smart plan. He was glad that Sarah had been so thorough, and had been so considerate to his sensitivities and had outright rejected a seduction mission to get the key. Unfortunately, that meant that this was the best option in order to get what they needed. He was not terribly excited to let himself get beat up, even if it was for only a short time. But, he was willing to do what he needed to do to ensure they were able to do their job effectively and still be together, and if that meant taking a few punches here and there, so be it.

"Remember, Chuck, we're just playing a role. I'll be right there and so will Casey," she said. "And if you used the 2.0 to land a few good punches before he takes you down, all the better," she whispered conspiratorially.

Chuck smiled, and nodded.

"Thanks. I needed that," he said.

Sarah just smiled and, noticing that Casey was currently in the armoury – maybe he was giving them privacy, she didn't know – she quickly squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"Quick kiss for your girlfriend before mission mode?"

"I hate mission mode," Chuck teased.

"Chuck..."

"Fine, fine," he said. "Let's make it a good one. I just hope that my girlfriend Sarah will be able to take care of the wound I'm about to inflict on myself for Agent Walker," he teased.

"Always," she said, kissing him tenderly, but chastely. When they separated, they gave each others' hands a quick reassuirng squeeze, and then separated, because Sarah was now Agent Walker in mission mode.

The first half of their mission had gone very well. The only deviation of their plan had been that Chuck had, thanks to the 2.0, thrown more than a few good punches and had left the mark just as bruised and beaten – well, almost, anyway – as he was. Which was fine with Team B. And instead of Sarah grabbing the key when she was pulling the mark off her boyfriend, as had been the plan, Chuck had stolen it from his pocket when the Irishman had tackled him to the floor. There had been a few minutes of panic from Sarah when they were "kicked out" of the bar by Casey, the "bartender" when she thought they hadn't been able to get the key. But Chuck told her to relax and opened his fist to reveal the small, metallic device held securely in his hand. She had even broken out of mission mode to kiss him soundly, both as a way of saying thank you, and as a way to demonstrate how happy she was that he was okay.

But now they were back in mission mode, as they were at the docks, making their way towards Urishnikov's shipping container which contained the weapon, for phase two of the mission.

Chuck got to the shipping container first, and since he was the one who had the key, he quickly checked and made sure that Casey and Sarah were in position – ideally, they were hoping that Mahoney would come immediately to the container after the fight, if he was spooked – they were, in fact in their positions, and he slid the key into the slot with a soft click, and a hiss. A soft beeping alerted him to the second part: inputting the PIN code. But keypads didn't usually beep. No, that was new. Of course, due to his multiple experiences in these sorts of situations – far more than he had ever thought he would be in, before he downloaded the intersect – he had a good idea of what that beeping sound was. He turned his gaze to the source of the beeping and flashed, confirming his suspicions. It was a bomb. A pretty big one. He had just over 40 seconds to enter the PIN code in order to stop it from exploding. Great.

He quickly turned his gaze back to the keypad, and immediately a series of numbers and patterns flew through his brain, and all of a sudden, he knew the code. The intersect certainly did come in handy sometimes. Immediately he entered the code, and as soon as he hit enter, the beeping sound stopped and was immediately followed by the familiar hiss of securely locked doors unlocking. He immediately gave the thumbs up to Casey and Sarah, and then proceeded to open the door to the shipping container, swinging it open.

No sooner had he walked into the container, searching for the weapon that it was used to ship, using the intersect to search places he wouldn't have thought to search himself, than he heard a familiar, but unwelcome, lilting Irish brogue from behind him.

"I knew you had to be some kind of cop or something," he said. "I mean, a girl like that blonde, with a guy like you? It had to be a set up"

"Hey, now, uh...that's...thats really...uncalled for," Chuck said, turning to face Mahoney. "I mean, was that really necessary?"

"Strictly speaking, probably not," the Irishman said. "But come on now, we're both professionals here," he continued, "what would a girl like blondie out there – yeah, I see her, even after that fist you planted in my good eye – see in a guy like you? C'mon, mate, let's be realistic here. You should probably tell whatever agency you work for to give you a more believeable fake girlfriend," he said, moving into the container.

"Now, wait a second, hey, now...come on, I think that I...I...ya know, I've got a lot of very good qualities that maybe aren't so...immediately visible...," Chuck was saying.

"Yeah, like what? Girls like Blondie aren't into the whole nerdy thing, mate," he said, reaching into his coat pocket. "I mean, I will give you this, you held your own in that fight for a few minutes there, and you're one hell of a theif," he continued, withdrawing a pistol and pointing it at Chuck,

"And if you hadn't tried to stop me from doing what I came here to do, I wouldn't have touched you. Our countries have no quarrel with each other, Yank. But since you're here, and we both know what I'm going to do, and we both know you're going to try to stop me...I'm afraid that I'm going to have to kill you. So why don't you be a lamb and make this easier on both of us and don't try anything funny," he said, cocking the pistol and pointing it at Chuck's head.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Chuck said, withdrawing a tranq pistol from his own pocket.

"Is...is that a tranq pistol?" the Irishman asked, laughing incredulously.

"Do ye not even have the balls to threaten me with a real gun? Are you like a trainee or something? On your training wheels, are you?" He continued, laughing almost maniacally.

"The name's Carmichael. Charles Carmichael," Chuck said, adopting his Charles Carmichael persona.

"Well, at least you sound more like an agent now," the Irishman said, before immediately knocking the tranq pistol out of his hand and, rather than shooting him, lunged towards him, first pulled back, and landing a brutal right hook on the cheek just below Chuck's eye, making contact with a sickening crunch.

Pulling back slightly, Chuck flashed once more, and took a fighting stance, his lips turned upwards into the ever-so-slightest hint of a smile as he made his first offencive move of the fight, trapping Mahoney's arm and knocking the gun out of his hand and kicking it out of scrambling reach.

At the sound of fighting in their earpieces, Sarah and Casey immediately left their positions and tore, full-tilt, towards Chuck's, weapons drawn and ready. They arrived just in time to see Chuck both deliver – and receive – a blow to the face.

"Hands up, you're under arrest!" Sarah cried, gun drawn and trained on Mahoney, as she entered the shipping crate.

"Well, well, well, it looks like Blondie and the other one finally decided to join the party," he said, kicking Chuck in the chest, sending him flying; immediately after, Mahoney charged towards Sarah. Sarah met his attack with an immediate block and countered it with a kick to the chest. The fight went on like this, similarly matched and counter-balanced between the three assailants for quite some time. Eventually Chuck was able to scramble onto his hands and knees and, eventually, find his tranq pistol, after which, he got to his feet, hoping to get a clean shot. Seeing this from her peripheral vision, Sarah called out,

"Chuck! Take the shot!"

Chuck didn't have to be told twice, and immediately shot two darts from the pistol, to make sure that they took hold. Which would have been a good thing, if he had remembered to flash before pulling the trigger, which would have helped his aim and made him to remember to compensate for the fact that his targets were moving. Instead, however, it was Casey who wound up with two darts in his neck.

"You...shot...me...Moron," he said, before collapsing.

"Sorry Casey!"

However, whilst not what any of them were hoping for, it wound up being just as good as actually tranqing him, because the confusion had caused Mahoney to loose concentration and focus on the antics that had just taken place, rather than the fight. It was to be his undoing. Sarah saw the split second of momentary lapse of concentration as her moment of opportunity, and took it. She immediately delivered two roundhouse kicks in quick succession, the first to stomach, and the second to his face as he keeled over in pain. The kicks caused him to splay out on the floor, momentarily dazed, which was all it took for her to pounce on him, and deliver blow after blow until he was in complete submission, after which she easily flipped him over and placed him in handcuffs.

As they waited for the extraction team to collect Mahoney and his rifle, as well as to revive Casey, Sarah walked over to where Chuck was standing, admiring all the computer stuff that had been shipped over with the weapon. He was eyeing it with not-very-well-contained jealousy.

"Stop drooling," she said, laughter in her voice. "I don't want to have to compete with a computer for your attention," she added. He turned around to face her at the sound of her voice, and gave her a lopsided grin.

"You have nothing to worry about, Sarah," he said, grinning, and her smile matched his.

"I'm proud of you, Chuck," she said. "Shooting Casey aside, you did really well today"

"Is that Sarah, my girlfriend, or Agent Walker, my handler, saying that?"

"Right now, its both," she said, smiling, and wrapping herself into an embrace in his arms. He winced in pain.

"Oh, my god, Chuck are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"Yes"

"To which question?"

"Both," he said, chuckling.

She gave him a concerned once-over before quickly pulling him back into her embrace and quickly kissing him, before the extraction team arrived.

"Come on, let's get out of here and get ready to meet the extraction team. They should have a first aid kid with them when they arrive," she said, leading the way. She turned on her heel and conspiratorially whispered in his ear, "And when we get back to your place, I'll make sure I take care of you properly"

Chuck pulled away just in time to see her sultrily smirking, as she turned on her heel and walked towards the extraction team which had chosen that precise moment to arrive.


AN2: I know that in canon, the Mexican restuarant they first went to had a different name, but I couldn't be arsed to re-watch the episodes which say it, or look it up on the wiki, so just go with it, yeah?