The knock on the door was so light that she thought she was imagining things for a moment. But when it came again, louder and more insistent, Sarah got up and crossed to the door.

She looked through the peephole – and froze. Chuck Bartowski stood on the other side of the door. She hadn't seen him since the day before – and that was an image she really never wanted to see again.

Sarah closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She really didn't want to deal with this right now –

"I know you're standing on the other side of the door." Chuck's voice penetrated her mental shields. "Come on, Sarah, please open up."

Sarah sighed. Chuck knew her too well. Reaching down, she slid back the deadbolt, then opened the door.

"Hi," she said, quietly.

"Hi," Chuck replied. Neither of them moved – Chuck to try to enter the hotel room, or Sarah to let him in. Chuck shuffled awkwardly, from one foot to the other.

"Chuck –" Sarah finally began, just as he said, "Listen –"

They both laughed, a little uncomfortably. "Go ahead," Sarah said.

"Okay," Chuck replied. "So, I was hoping I could talk to you about… well, everything. I think we can talk about this like adults."

Sarah looked at the floor, willing her eyes not to start tearing up. "But, if this is a bad time, I can come back," Chuck said hastily.

Sarah blinked, and looked back up at Chuck. "No," she said, firmly. "You're right. We're adults, we can talk about this like adults. Come in."

She stepped back, letting Chuck into the hotel room. Ordinarily, he would've walked to the bed and sat down on it, with Sarah sitting next to him, but this time, he crossed to the chair in the corner that faced the bed, and sat down there.

With a heavy heart, Sarah sat down on the end of the king size bed. It felt large and lonely, as she sat there by herself. "So…" she said, hesitating. "What do you want to talk about?"

Chuck looked her in the eyes. "I want to know how you're feeling," he replied, not beating around the bush.

Sarah let her gaze fall to the floor, and took a moment before answering. "Pretty shitty," she finally said, her voice small and quiet.

She looked back up at Chuck, her eyes beginning to water. "I mean… I don't want to say you've screwed my life up, Chuck, but…" She laughed. "I'm a CIA deep-cover operative. I'm not supposed to react this way."

"You're a person, a human being," Chuck rebuked her. "Just because you're in the CIA doesn't mean you can't have feelings, and that's what I want you to tell me."

Sarah nodded. "I know," she said. "But… I've never been very good with talking about my feelings."

"I understand that," Chuck replied, "but it's still… I still think it's important that you tell me how you feel right now."

Sarah took a deep breath. "Okay," she said. "I feel like you completely screwed me over."

Chuck nodded. "Yeah," he answered quietly. "I kinda figured that."

And now, it was all starting to bubble to the surface. "I mean, what was that all about, Chuck?" Sarah asked, a little desperation starting to show in her voice. "Let's take a break, maybe we'll get back together, then you go on a cruise, and you come back with… I mean, for God's sake, she's mini ME!"

Chuck raised an eyebrow. "No, no she's not," he replied. "The fact that she has blonde hair and blue eyes is completely coincidental."

"Oh, gotcha," Sarah replied, her mouth about thirty seconds ahead of her brain. "You went after her because she's NOT me."

Chuck's jaw dropped, disbelief painting itself on his face. "What?!" he asked, as Sarah realized the enormity of what she'd said. "At what point did I EVER say that?" he snapped.

"No, that's not what I meant, Chuck," Sarah replied, frustrated.

"But it's what you said!" Chuck shot back. "So, what? You think I can't deal with somebody like you? Sarah, for God's sake, she was in the Army! She did a tour in Iraq!"

The fact that Chuck was pressing the point was starting to anger Sarah a bit. "Still, though," she said. "How is it that you went from, 'Oh, Sarah, we can make things work, in time' to 'Oh, hey, I'm bangin' somebody else' so quickly?!"

"I cannot believe you just said that," Chuck growled. "You think it's about SEX? Let me tell you something, Sarah. Rebecca Matheson is a wonderful person. She's sweet, she's funny, she's even a little bit of a nerd like me." His voice got louder as he built up a head of steam. "And you know what, now that I think about it, no, she's not like you. She'll tell me her real name. She'll tell me her birthday. She'll let me in. Hell, I knew her brother and her mother's names before I had known her for twenty-four hours!"

Chuck's face had turned bright red. Sarah had never seen him so mad. But that's not what she was thinking about. His last sentence had hit her like a physical blow. She's not like you. She'll let me in.

"So, what?!" Sarah snapped. "I wouldn't 'let you in'? I told you when this whole thing started, Chuck, that there are things I can't tell you! But I did my damnedest to let you in as much as I could! I trusted you. I cried on your shoulder. I fell asleep in your arms because I trusted you, and because I lo-"

She cut herself off. Chuck looked at her, his eyes guarded. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing," Sarah snapped. "Just, go. Please."

"That's it?" Chuck asked. "You were about to tell me that you loved me, and now you want me to go?"

"Chuck, PLEASE, leave now."

"Sarah, I'm not leaving until we-"

"GET THE FUCK OUT!"

"Okay," Chuck said quietly and calmly. He knew better than to argue with Sarah after she said that.

He stood from the chair and crossed the room. Sarah didn't look up until after she heard the door click shut.

She looked up and saw her face in the mirror. She looked like hell.

"GODDAMMIT!" she howled. She looked down – an ice bucket sat on the floor at the foot of the bed. Picking it up, she hurled it at the mirror as hard as she could.

In the hallway, Chuck heard the glass break. He sighed, looked down, and shook his head. "I can't believe I let myself lose my temper," he muttered. "How is it that she can still get to me like that?"

He headed downstairs. When he reached the lobby, he crossed to the reception desk. "Do me a favor," he said to the clerk on duty. "When you get a chance, can you call up to room 1138 and make sure she's okay?"

"Absolutely, sir."

Once outside, Chuck got in the Herder. He looked up, up toward Sarah's room. It was something he'd done before, seeing her up there. And –

She was there, but she disappeared from the window as soon as she realized he was looking up at her. Chuck sighed. He wanted so badly for them to still be friends, but this was not a good sign.

He started up the Herder and pulled away from the curb. All the way home, Sarah's words ate at him. She almost told me that she loved me, he thought.

And truthfully, Chuck had no clue what he would have done if she had finished that sentence. He really liked Becky. He liked her a whole lot. But the fact of the matter was, Sarah Walker had been in possession of a very large part of his heart for a very long time, and if she said the words "I love you" to Chuck… well, he didn't know if he could back away from that.

When Chuck got back to the apartment complex in Echo Park, he parked the Herder and turned it off, but didn't get out. He just sat there, thinking.

He had been sitting in Herder for close to fifteen minutes when a knock on the window snapped him out of his reverie. Startled, he looked up to see John Casey looking in at him.

Chuck sighed, unbuckled his seatbelt, and opened the door. "I take it it didn't go so great?" Casey asked as Chuck got out of the car.

Chuck sighed and shook his head. "Let's just say it ended with her screaming at me to get the fuck out," Chuck replied.

Casey raised his eyebrows. "Christ, Bartowski, what the hell did you do?"

"I told her the truth!" Chuck protested.

"Oh, great idea," Casey deadpanned.

"Come on, Casey," Chuck shot back, "what was I supposed to do? I have NO IDEA how to handle a jealous, angry CIA operative."

"Well, first of all, you don't EVER try to handle Sarah Walker," Casey said. "I thought you would've known better than that by now."

"Not –" Chuck spluttered. "You know what I mean, Casey. I have no idea what I'm supposed to say to Sarah when she's like this."

"Maybe nothing would've been a good idea," Casey told him.

"Oh, sure," Chuck replied. "Say nothing at all. Let Sarah think that I went off to Alaska, got myself some hot new blonde chick, and that I don't care about her at all. That's great for a friendship."

Casey sighed and leaned against the Herder. "Alright, Bartowski," he said quietly. "I'm gonna say this once, and only once, because I am NOT generally in the business of dispensing friendship or relationship advice."

"I'm all ears," Chuck said wryly.

"Okay," Casey replied. "You fucked up. You fucked up BIG time. Walker likes you. For all I know, Walker may even be in love with you. You know that, you KNEW that when you went on this cruise."

"And so I was supposed to put my LIFE on hold for the benefit of her feelings?" Chuck shot back. "You know, I don't know how things would've turned out if she'd been able to go on the cruise, but the fact of the matter is, she DIDN'T. I met somebody who I really like, and I'm not gonna just sit around waiting for Sarah to get over me before I go after somebody else."

"I'm not saying you should," Casey growled. "I'm just saying that maybe there would've been an easier way to let her know than macking on Sergeant Matheson in the middle of LAX!"

"AND SHE WOULDN'T HAVE SEEN ME IF YOU HADN'T LET HER COME ALONG!" Chuck yelled at Casey, suddenly losing his temper. "I DISTINCTLY remember asking you not to let her come with you!"

"You know what, she insisted," Casey snapped, his temper getting close to the edge as well. "You try saying 'No' to Walker."

"Just for the record, I HAVE said 'No' to her before," Chuck shot back.

"Oh, really," Casey retorted. "Is that why she was able to talk you into screwing her right AFTER you two broke up?"

That was the final straw for Chuck Bartowski. Without warning, his right arm swung upward, his fist catching John Casey right on the chin. Casey's head snapped backward, and he lost his balance, falling backward to the pavement.

Casey just lay there for a moment, stunned, as Chuck realized what he'd done. "Oh, Jesus, I'm sorry, Casey," he stammered, reaching down to help Casey up.

"No, no, it's okay," Casey replied, taking Chuck's hand and pulling himself up off the pavement. "I probably deserved that."

Chuck shook his head. "No, this is between me and Sarah. I shouldn't be pulling you into it."

Casey chuckled. "Bartowski, I'm IN IT, whether you like it or not. It's just the nature of the assignment."

Chuck nodded. "Right."

Casey turned away from Chuck and headed back toward his apartment. "Go to sleep, Bartowski. Try not to punch anybody else tonight."

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Right."

"Oh, and Bartowski?"

"Yeah?"

"That was a decent hit. I didn't realize you had it in you."

Chuck laughed softly. "Good night, Casey."

Casey's door swung shut, the sound echoing across the courtyard. Chuck reached down to his belt and removed his phone.

He dialed a number, and held the phone to his ear. "Hey, Becks. Listen… do you think I can come over?"

He was quiet while she replied. "No, nothing like that. I've just had a rotten day, and I'd really like to just hang out with you for a while." He smiled at her response. "Okay, I'll see you in a few."