A/N: Tremendous thanks to Go-Chuck-Go for planting this idea in my head. Gosh, don't you love obstacles?


Sarah sighs, resisting the urge to blow bubbles in her drink. Nicholas is boring the hell out of her. There's no way he's involved in the ambassador's bidding war. Her mind keeps drifting back to Chuck, and she smiles almost incessantly. Luckily, Nicholas thinks it's because of his cleverness. Still, her whirlwind with Chuck has thrown her off balance enough to make her uncertain. That uncertainty is the only thing that's prevented her from ending this date ten minutes into it.

She takes another sip of her drink, and forces herself to look this guy in the eyes. She tries to listen to what he's saying, but he's rambling on about fishing, and she never liked fishing anyway.

Focus, Sarah. Focus.

If there was one thing they drilled into you during training it was that distractions could get you killed. So she takes a deep breath and asks him a question that subtly gets him off the topic. She really, really hates fishing.

Just as she's steering the conversation into a relevant area, she catches a glimpse of familiar dark, curly hair.

Damn. She never should have agreed to meet at the hotel bar. It's almost unfair how much Chuck's presence screws with her judgment.

Sure enough, Chuck's at the other end of the room, followed closely by Amy. Neither notices her, and she slinks down almost imperceptibly in the booth, hoping the dim light will help her go unnoticed. Her ears start to buzz, and her mouth goes dry. She downs the rest of her sip in one gulp.

"Wow! Thirsty?" Nicholas asks.

She smiles charmingly. "Tell me more about what you do for a living."

Eager to talk about himself, he launches into a description of his job. Listening attentively, because this is what she's here for, she nonetheless keeps one eye on the end of the bar, where Chuck and Amy have sat down, Chuck swiveling on his stool.

She orders another drink, a virgin daiquiri this time, to make sure she doesn't get in over her head.

"What? Aren't you having fun?"

She plasters a flirty smile on her face. "Of course. I just want to pace myself. I have a feeling it'll be a long night."

He grins lasciviously. She looks around the room, her laughter ringing false in her ears, only to meet Amy's gaze. The younger woman freezes, hurt visible in her eyes. Sarah stops laughing, and the noise of the bar seems to the fall away. Fortunately, Chuck's back is to her, and Amy, for whatever reason, keeps his attention away from Sarah.

Sarah stands abruptly, muttering, "I have to use the restroom." She turns around, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. Once in the bathroom, she fights the urge to splash water over her face. She feels so dishonest, so sullied. She wants to scream, or kick something, or –

The door opens, and Sarah stops pacing. She swallows, trying to control her breathing and her emotions while not revealing anything to the redhead standing accusingly before her.

"Amy . . ." Sarah begins desperately.

Amy holds a hand up, silencing the older woman. When she speaks, her voice is remarkably calm. "Mr. Carmichael is not just my boss, all right? He's my friend. And I'd do anything to protect him from getting hurt."

"Amy, it's not like that, I swear."

"Then what is it like?"

She has no good answer. She can't tell her that Rachel Meadows is out on a date, which is really a reconnaissance mission. And she definitely can't tell her that Sarah Walker is cheating on Chuck, because she's not.

She sighs, and shifts back and forth on her heels. "Look, I can't give you a reasonable explanation, at least not right now. But no one means more to me than Chuck does, and I'd never do anything to purposefully hurt him."

Amy gazes at her intently, trying to discern the truth. Sarah feels as if this young girl, barely out of college, holds her fate. She's more terrified here surrounded by the yellow walls of this bathroom than she ever was in the grimiest, most squalid torture cells.

"I don't know why," Amy says, almost reluctantly, "but I trust you."

The weight on Sarah's heart lifts. She smiles impulsively and takes a step toward her.

"Don't make me regret it," the assistant warns, her tone harsh.

"I swear to you, you can trust me." Sarah takes a step back.

"Do you," Amy begins, but shakes her head as if incredulous of the part she's playing in this deception. "Do you need me to get him out of here?"

Sarah stares at the floor, her eyes out of focus. It'd be much easier to complete this mission if he were gone. But at the same time, he needs to know what her job entails, what she's been expected to do the last nine years. "No," she replies, "That won't be necessary."

Amy balks. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Sarah says. "He deserves to know."

Amy throws her hands up, clearly thinking that their previous confrontation is now immaterial. "Okay, fine," she relents. She turns to leave the bathroom, but stops, her hand hovering over the door knob. "He loves you. Remember that," she tells Sarah over her shoulder.

Sarah nods, "I will." Gathering her thoughts, she lets out a breath and returns to the bar. As she approaches the booth, Amy's just getting back to the bar. Chuck's turned around to greet her, and his eyes fall on Sarah. The pain etched into his face is unmistakable. Sarah stays standing, unable to break the stare.

"Hey, what took – what's a matter?" Nicholas asks, swiveling in the booth to get a good look in the direction Sarah's staring.

The question jerks her back into reality. "Oh, it's nothing." She sits down abruptly, and can see Chuck out of the corner of her eye. He rises with a determined expression and leans toward Amy, whispering in her ear. She nods, and he takes her by the arm. As they leave the bar, Sarah feels a pang erupt in her heart.

"Do you know him?"

"No," she lies, "He looks like someone I used to know."