Hee. Just in time for Xmas ;)

Very random. But I'm trying to dig myself out of the very deep hole of non-writing. Lol.

Not sure where it fits in any timeline or year, maybe the middle of season one after the Lou fiasco? Even though even that doesn't quite work because of episode four. Or the end of season one...?

Disclaimer: Can't say I don't own Chuck yet, may be sitting beneath my tree!

059. Gift

--

For my own.

--

1996, Vancouver, BC

-

Rebecca Carlson, fourteen, sat by the window with her knees drawn up to her knees as she watched the delicate snowflakes falling gently outside. The snow on the lawn came up to her knees; she was the smallest in her class. School was canceled today but she couldn't say she was disappointed.

She could see the family across the street pulling into their driveway in their Land Rover, a large, green pine tree strapped to the roof. Two kids tumbled out of the side doors excitedly, bundled up in their North Face jackets, noses red and thick hand-knitted woolen beanies jammed over both heads and ears. A tall man with curly brown hair stepped out of the car too, ducking into the backseat one more time and coming out with a swaddled bundle carefully nestled in his arms.

The woman who had stepped out of the house when the Rover first pulled up herded her kids inside, trying to look serious as she brushed the snow from their shoulders, but laughed anyway when her husband kissed her cheek, handing her the little infant.

Rebecca leaned her own cheek against the cold glass, watching the cloud of fog from her breath blur her vision of the man hauling the tree from the car roof. The chill of the hard material seemed to jolt her out of her pensive mood and her dry cracked lips reminded her that, no, this was not a dream. This was her life.

"Hey golden-hair."

Fisting her hands in the sleeves of her thin threadbare jumper to warm them up, Rebecca tried to fix a smile to her face before turning to her father. It didn't quite work- maybe her cheeks were too frozen with the temperature to maintain the pale grin before it dropped. It was too hard to pretend today.

"Hi daddy," Rebecca greeted, taking note of his pleased expression and the way he held his hands behind his back.

John Carlson, thirty-something businessman of middle class moved closer to her, towards the light. They couldn't afford much heating, and they conserved electricity as much as possible over this winter.

"Good news," He announced gaily, looking as if he was congratulating himself rather than looking for her approval, "This won't be our home much longer. I'm almost done, and then we'll move in time for Christmas."

This isn't home, we're just 'house-sitting' without the owner's knowledge, Rebecca wanted to say, And it IS Christmas. It's the day after tomorrow.

"That's great," She said without enthusiasm. John hadn't looked much happy these last few years that she didn't want to spoil his mood whenever he was.

He looked at her strangely, finally noticing her somber tone. For a moment, Rebecca thought she could see the yearning in his eyes to comfort her, and that was enough to inject a little more life into her lips for a twitch upward in a parody of a grin.

John knelt in front of her with a smaller, more genuine smile. "I got you this, darlin'."

Slowly, he pulled out a small plastic bag full of water.

Rebecca saw her father smile when she leaned forward with both hands, fully intent on the little moving goldfish, "Daddy?"

"It's tail reminded me of your hair," He said awkwardly, reaching out to smooth a tendril from her forehead. John looked wistful, as if he was seeing someone else behind the golden veil that fell over her face.

She watched, mesmerised at the way the long golden-tipped tail of the fish moved gracefully, reflecting the dim light off it's scales. "Thank-you."

John stood stiffly, his knees were giving him problems, especially in these low temperatures. A jovial smile was on his face again, none of that tender light in his eyes visible.

"I'll get us some supper," He said, walking into the kitchen without a glance back.

Rebecca turned her attention back onto the small bag, at the way the plastic wobbled from the movement of the water when she touched the outside, and the fish swimming in circles.

--

"Leave it," John ordered as Rebecca made to pick up the baked beans can, "It'll be hard to bring on the road."

Rebecca clutched Goldie to her chest, "It's a she, and her name is Goldie," She said firmly, trying to stand her ground.

John's eyes were unyielding, "It's a goldfish. Darlin', this is why you don't make attachments, or name your 'belongings'. You'll have to leave them eventually."

"It's mine." Rebecca said softly, meeting his gaze.

Without another word, he headed to the car, their whole life's possessions clutched in two bags in each hand.

With an iron will, Rebecca kept her lips from trembling as she burned in outright anger. It was Christmas today, and their neighbours were all still in their pajamas in front of their decorated trees, hot chocolate in their hands. Corny as the whole thing was, she wanted it. She didn't want to be in a car, crossing the Canada/America border on Christmas Day, or breaking into another house on Boxing Day, assuming another identity by New Years.

It was a fish. But it was hers. She didn't have many possessions she could tie to her name, to her, as a person. Nothing to define herself as an individual.

There was practically nothing that could prove her existence.

She didn't have a home. She didn't have a name that was hers, which she could keep. Or sentimental items, personal belongings, clothes... anything.

In a day, she could be someone else and have their possessions. But really, they wouldn't be hers.

"I'm sorry, Goldie," Rebecca said softly, "You can't come."

She set the can on the top of the small kitchen table and walked away.

--

2008, LA, California, US

-

"Chuck?"

He stood awkwardly, clearly trying to keep something hidden behind him. "Hey Sarah," Chuck said with a cheerful smile.

Sarah looked at him suspiciously, standing to the side of the doorway while he edged past with his back to the wall.

"Why are you here?" She asked, her hands self-consciously moving to re-tighten her thin robe. Chuck's eyes darted to the movement of her hands, and she spoke to avert his gaze, fighting the heat that rose to her neck. "Aren't you supposed to be with Ellie and Devon for Christmas Eve? I'm only supposed to meet you at your apartment at seven."

Chuck glanced over at her bed, at the dress she'd laid out and the heels on the floor that sat below the hanging hemline with a small smile. "Blue?"

"You like blue, don't you?" Sarah asked, biting her lip when he laughed.

"Yes," Chuck agreed, "Are you using your spy tricks to determine my favourite colour, Ms. Walker?"

"You look at me more when I'm wearing it."

He looked up, half surprised and half amused at her omission. Sarah ran her hand through her wet hair nervously at her slip, "I mean, I'm trained to observe, you know, Chuck."

"What if I told you that it wasn't my favourite colour?" Chuck said casually, smiling at her.

Sarah looked from the dress to his face, "What?"

She must've looked lost, because he took pity on her, "It's my favourite colour only because you're wearing it."

Her hands were sweaty, and she was dimly aware of the way her heartbeat sped up rapidly.

"Are you okay?" Chuck added when she didn't answer, "You look a little red."

He reached forward, and froze with horror when the item in his hand was revealed.

Sarah's mouth dropped a little, her eyes resting solely on the bag, feeling more vulnerable than she was comfortable with. She could hear her own breathing loudly. "Chuck...?"

It was his turn to shift uncomfortably as he chuckled, "I'm sure you don't keep a diary... so I thought you needed a friend to confide in."

She looked from the goldfish to his apprehensive gaze without a word, and he rambled on nervously, "It's not hard to take care of it, even for you..."

Sarah shut her jaw, feeling her eyes soften when she saw his wide-eyed look, like a puppy begging for a scratch on its belly from its master. "It's a goldfish," She said blankly.

Chuck proudly held it higher, and it swayed closer to her with his move. The goldfish was fat and bloated, its eyeballs protruding ridiculously from it's small head, but Sarah couldn't help but feel her heart swell when she looked at it.

"Well I can have it if you really don't like it," Chuck defended, pulling it back towards him. "I could do with a deep, meaningful conversation with a goldfish. Or even Casey, he wouldn't dare kill an innocent sea creature. It'd go well with his bonsai. Maybe it could remind him that things are meant to be living, not dead."

He shook his head at the last thought. Sarah's hands shot out to curl around his single warm one, her eyes rising to meet his own. "No!" She said quickly, "Chuck- thank you. I'll have... it."

Releasing the bag, Chuck pulled his hand back reluctantly. "I thought I'd bring it over before Ellie killed me for buying you a goldfish for Christmas."

Sarah couldn't help a small laugh as she looked at Chuck's charming grin, unable to keep from glancing at him every few seconds. The pleased smile on her lips encouraged his own giant beam to cross his face, and he broke the silence between them when walked past her to into the small kitchenette.

"Do you have anything to put the fish in?" Chuck asked, his voice muffled by the cupboard in which he'd stuck his head into.

She leaned against the doorway, cradling the present in her arms as if the goldfish were really made of precious gold, "No."

Chuck reached up high, his vibrant electric blue dress-shirt riding high as it untucked itself from his black pants, a pale sliver of skin showing. Sarah reached up with one hand, feeling paranoid as she held her robe closed higher on her chest.

"Okay, here," Chuck sat the glass between them on the table.

Sarah raised an eyebrow, "It's a cup."

"Um, yes it is," Chuck said, insistently pushing it forward another few inches, "But Fishy will be happy enough until you can get him a bowl."

She burst out laughing as Chuck rushed forward to grab the violently bouncing bag and the dizzy fish from her shaking grasp, "Fishy?"

"That's its name," Chuck said, confused, "What's wrong with Fishy?"

"It's lame," She pointed out simply, trying to forget she'd named her first goldfish "Goldie".

The fish had swum until its head touched the plastic, and Sarah was unnerved with its off-center stare for a moment, as if it were trying to see her properly.

"See? It likes you, Sarah," Chuck said with a pleased tone, "Fishy, meet Sarah. Sarah, meet Fishy. You two are going to be the best roommates."

"Chuck," Sarah rolled her eyes, "It's name's not Fishy. I'm going to come up with a better one."

He shrugged, "As long as it's not 'Goldie.'"

Sarah frowned at him as she released the knot at the top of the bag, positioning the top so that Fishy would slide easily into the cup.

She let out a small startled yell when Fishy missed the rim altogether, the cup filling up but the fish flopping hopelessly on the table. Chuck moved his hands away from hers, raising them innocently as she carefully scooped the wriggling fish into its home, her skin all too aware of its contact with Chuck's smooth hands.

"I was just trying to help!" Chuck said as he peered into the glass to observe the fish.

Sarah crossed her arms, ignoring the fact her action was to avoid any more skin on skin contact, "I think it's a good thing the fish is with me, Chuck. You'd kill it within a couple hours."

He straightened up after his examination of the pet, "Your career is dangerous, Sarah. Your terrorist friends could kill Fishy all too easily. He's defenseless."

"Do you think I'd let him get into danger?" Sarah retorted, "He's quite safe with me, Chuck. How would they torture him, water-boarding?"

It was then that Sarah realised her breathing quickened with the heat of the moment, and she stared at Chuck. "Trust me, he's mine."

The double meaning wasn't lost on either of them. As their tenuous lightness evaporated finally into real emotions, Chuck looked glad to finally address the problem they had been ignoring the entire week.

"I trust you, Sarah."

--

She finally had something of her own. Gifted to her. Everything in her life had been paid for by the CIA, and now he belonged to her.

Chuck had made that clear before he'd left to help Ellie organize the Christmas party.

That she had him all to herself.

Bending down beside the cup, all dressed for Casa Bartowski, clutch in her hand and keys in the other, she tapped the glass, her eyes unable to leave the swishing gold tail.

"I won't leave you behind again, Goldie," She said quietly, "I'm not leaving any time soon."

Hehe yes, FL can get this random :) It's much longer than my normal drabbles.

Sorry about It's Complicated, by the way. Kind of stalled on it, combination of me being lazy in editing, and a less-than-enthusiastic response the last chapter had (which was a happy chapter!). Lol. It's alright though, I know it's losing interest. Me too.

I didn't get many presents this year, and xmas is tomorrow! So consider your review a big, big, well decorated gift to me.