A/N: Thank you for your comments and your patience. I think some readers may have misinterpreted a passage from the last chapter involving Sarah & General Beckman.

"It's more than she can take.

"I've been thinking about your offer." Her words have the intended effect.

General Beckman was not the one who made the initial offer to Sarah but she brought it up because she was tired of Beckman bringing up the past and she wanted to say something to get her to stop.

The quote : "Sarah had a feeling it hadn't been Beckman's doing. Didn't she want to take on a lesser role and prepare for retirement?" was meant to hint at the general's reduced role in the agency.

Hope that redeems the general in some of your eyes. Otherwise, thank you for your continued support.

Chapter 3:

She spends a few more days in D.C. completing questionnaires and examinations. She meets Beckman's stand-in and is pleasantly surprised to find that she has no opinion of the man. His name is Barnes; he is pleasant and direct but she would never make the mistake of making him a familiar. He will suit her purposes just fine.

It is better this way. And it is better that he knows only what's documented in her file; it's a relief that she doesn't have to face a barrage of questions aimed to guilt her into returning to L.A.. She does not have an opportunity to speak to Beckman again and for that she is sorry; the woman was probably fond of her and she should not strive to push away the people in her life simply because she doesn't remember them.

After all is said and done they wait on Sarah's final answer but rather than name her destination of choice, she makes the impulsive decision to fly out to meet an old friend. She regrets the decision soon after. The flight leaves her with too much time and too many thoughts; she sleeps fitfully and worries whether she should have told Chuck where she was headed.

It's not uncommon for them to go days—weeks—without speaking. He's never far from her thoughts but putting such thoughts to action is plagued by the inherent awkwardness of trying to carry on a normal conversation when nothing about what's happened is normal.

It's easier this way. There's no misunderstandings for her to regret when there is nothing at all.

She lands in Rome, a city she has been countless times before, and finds her way to the hotel without issue. Her recall is flawless and it is so terribly unfair. How can she be so sure that Via Cavour will be a surer bet than Via Labicana at this hour and falter when asked for a detail from her own wedding?

She nearly cries at the sight of a familiar face at the door and it must show because for once there's no snark exchanged at the threshold. Carina ushers her in and gives her a firm but gentle hug. There are no arguments, no fights; instead of 'hello' Carina's first words are "I'm so sorry about what happened."

Sarah drops her bags and takes a seat on the bed. "So you know?" She had been scant on the details when she asked Carina if she could visit.

"I heard you had gone missing." Carina looks at her with uncertainty, as if she isn't quite sure if Sarah is who she says she is. Hell, Sarah doesn't know who she is anymore.

"The next time I checked in with Chuck, it was complicated." Carina isn't usually one for euphemisms but Sarah can tell she is trying to give her a way to open up.

"Let's not talk about it." She wants to but she doesn't think she can understand her own misery much less explain it to someone.

Sarah closes her eyes. She needs a distraction. "Tell me what's new with you."

Seeing Carina is reassuring in many ways. She's a reminder that things haven't really changed all that much in five years' time. When her friend tries to bring her up to speed she delivers it in a style of nonchalance that makes it impossible to tell whether she's referring to things that have happened five years ago, or two days ago. It's all the same and it's so wonderfully familiar.

Drug lords, arms cartels…it's so achingly familiar. She can handle that.

She can handle the subdued version of Carina. It's almost a bit nice to have a friend who doesn't pry or push buttons. When she offers her a drink it's bottled water of all things.

What she cannot handle is the look Carina gives her. Because even though her friend has not changed, Sarah has. She's just not fully aware of it.

"Please don't look at me like that." Beckman looked at her the same way. "I don't want your pity."

"It's not pity," Carina says. All the same, those ice blue eyes bore into hers. "It's just tragic."

Sarah almost wishes it had just been pity. She's used to people feeling sorry for her; poor little girl with the dishonest daddy and the broken family. She's not sure what to do when someone's grieving because she can't.

Carina tells her about the bachelorette party and the wedding but it sounds like someone else's life. People like her did not spend the time imagining things so out of the realm of possibility.

She can't imagine a life without secrets or lies or aliases. The life Carina describes is not exciting or dangerous; they're not the kind of things she's entertained, much less hoped for.

And yet it was so wildly impossible that it had to be true.

Carina tries to tell Sarah about her own wedding. How happy she had been, how in love they were. "Almost nauseating—" is how she describes it.

Impossible.

Impossible.

Sarah chants the word over and over again in her mind but how can she deny what Chuck's tried to show her all this time?

"You were all for the house with the white picket fence and happily ever after. You were going to give it all up for him."

The words invoke a certain set of imagery but all Sarah feels is emptiness. She can see it; there are memories but they are not hers.

Suddenly she can't breathe and the air is just as scant half a world away as it was when she was with him. He takes her breath away and she's left hollow; there is a part of her that's left forever and she can't change that. But what she does in that person's place is her own doing and it's wrong.

The person before her had spent years building a future and here she was, tearing it all down.

"Did I love him?"

She doesn't need Carina to speak. Her eyes say it all; they pierce her with their frankness.

How can there be any doubt?

She tries to enjoy her time in Rome-to forget the past and find herself again-but she can't. Every time she closes her eyes she sees herself back at that house with him. She thinks about how she almost killed him and wonders what she would do with herself if she had.

In the half-second after Quinn confessed to his crimes and before Chuck took the bullet for her, there was a moment of clarity.

A single moment of truth; a feeling that she belonged with him. That he loved her and she loved him.

And then horror crashed down upon her.

Chuck on the floor.

Quinn gone.

Panic.

Hysteria.

And running away, knowing she had to leave him behind.

And here she was, still running, even though she knows the feelings are still there.

Somewhere, deep down, she loved Chuck Bartowski.

Carina takes her to an opera and then afterwards for a late night snack of espresso and triple chocolate cake at her favorite café. She insists she's gotten too old to carry on like the days of yore but judging by Carina's hidden stash of contraband back at the hotel Sarah would say she's just trying to be a good friend.

It's almost like old times; a lifetime ago when they were fun and fancy free. When there were no consequences or responsibilities and everything was for the moment.

Carina polishes off her plate and starts encroaching on hers. Sarah simply sets her fork down on the mostly uneaten cake. She doesn't have the heart. She sees what Carina is trying to do for her but she can't stay here and pretend like she doesn't have another life an ocean away.

She can't return either. So where does that leave her?

"What do you think of St. Tropez this time of year?" Carina asks her with an air of nonchalance. Sarah ghosts a smile. "It would be so nice, don't you think?"

"I think it's time to move on," she replies. She doesn't elaborate further and Carina throws her another one of her looks. It always starts as a pointed stare, disapproval that quickly softens into a pensive sadness. Carina's learned quickly to spare her any pitying remarks but her face is far too expressive to hide how she truly feels.

Sarah stares off through the window into the distance. People are running outside; for what reason she cannot surmise. She can't think of anything important enough to run for. The breeze picks up and causes the door once held ajar to swing shut. There's shouting outside but her attention is piqued only when it fades to muffled cries.

"What's going on?" she asks aloud.

Carina shrugs, instead focusing on the meticulous task of licking her fork clean. "Someone's offended by something. Don't worry; it happens all the time here."

Sarah isn't altogether convinced but she isn't invested enough in the affairs of others to care. It's only—

"I thought I saw Chuck."

Despite all of Carina's talents, she's always had a shabby poker face. "What?" She drops the fork and it clatters noisily against the plate.

"It's too late. They're gone now," Sarah says, looking away and back down into her cup. It takes all her training to maintain an air of nonchalance. "And besides, I'm probably just seeing things. There are a lot of people who look like Chuck from the back."

Carina says nothing but her eyes confirm what Sarah already knows.

She sounds insane and what's more insane is that she's convinced it was him. Sure lanky men with brown half-curls are a dime a dozen here but when she saw him run past the window, she felt something.

A connection? No, too strong a word. A tug then. As if her heart were wrapped in wire and someone had just plucked a chord across her chest. It's the same feeling she had when she last saw him; when they stood together and said their goodbyes.

Why would Chuck be here in Rome? He couldn't have followed her here; she hasn't contacted him since D.C.. Was he looking for her? Was he worried?

Carina scrapes her chair against the floor as she stands up, causing Sarah to break from her morbid thoughts.

"It's getting late."

"Yes." Sarah nods in agreement. "I think it's time I went home."