...wherein Sarah continues to cope with the ghosts of her past as a short-term assignment turns indefinite and she becomes more familiar with the man she is protecting and those dear to him...

Canon Reference: Early events of 'Helicopter' (episode 1.02)

Contents: I have no idea what happened here. This was supposed to be a quickly dealt with episode in one long but manageable installment. The length of the previous installment was unavoidable but rather than follow it with an even longer one I decided to split the treatment of 'Helicopter' into two installments. This one is a about 11K and three chapters. The first is 2K and the other two are between 4K and 5K each.

A/N: I am blown away by the PMs, follows, favorites and reviews this story - or loose collection of stories - has received thus far. And, I want everyone to know that I appreciate you investing your time although I am behind in my responses as I work on upcoming chapters. I am still trying to update every two weeks and have every intention of doing so but am no longer comfortable promising to do so. I am no less committed to providing those updates, I just want to make sure I am relatively happy with them and will take a little extra time if some parts are not cooperating.

I've had some interesting discussions with some of you about this notion of Sarah being almost two different people. That such a deadly woman shouldn't be so affected by this guy she just met. Which makes me both question my ability to make those concepts coexist and makes me incredibly happy because that's precisely the point! James Bond, Jason Bourne, Nikita - THEY all fell in love (Bond at least once per movie - nyuk, nyuk - but also getting married - for about a minute). At this point Sarah is attracted to this guy and maybe processing how refreshingly different he is than anyone she has ever met but we all know at this stage she wouldn't call it 'love'.

The conflicting emotions she is experiencing are meant to be jarring but not impossible (imagine how she feels). Nonetheless, I am making some efforts to make this apparent disconnect more believable. I suppose it can be difficult to process that one person can be both the deadly assassin I have portrayed in the prologue - to see and do what she has seen and done - AND be capable, or even deserving, of finding love.

And that is exactly what she is afraid of...

Disclaimers / Easter Eggs: The author has derived no income or other profit from this work. No ownership or claim is asserted or implied to the characters or story of the television show CHUCK or the movie Tron in this or any other part. Additionally, in this part, (and although both are probably public domain) no ownership or claim to William Shakespeare's The Tempest (source of all quotes and installment title) or Dante's Inferno is asserted or implied. (A recent nine2five by MVK prompted me to brush up on the classics.)

.


Part VII: This Thing of Darkness


.

017: Sarah's Garden - Lasciate Ogni Speranza

.

"Hell is empty and all the devils are here"

(The Tempest, Act I, Scene 2)

.

Nowhere; Outside of Time

.

Here she was again for perhaps the hundredth time though the number of visits has never had any meaning. Once was enough.

She sighed and looked down at her simple white dress of some impossibly light material - empire-waisted and billowing loosely from just below her bust to her ankles - the wind playing with her dress as it did with the loose waves of her long blonde tresses. She was surrounded by an endless field of white asphodel up to her mid thigh just high enough to tickle her finger tips as she walked through it - miraculously avoiding any snags that might delay her from her destination.

It was beautiful. And it was as desolate as a field of flowers could be - unbroken by any other variation in the landscape or horizon. Just pale green and stark white in all directions. A flower for every soul on Earth she imagined.

There was no path but the plants seemed to part for her passing and close up behind her. Once she had discerned the true nature of this place she had been surprised that the vegetation in her wake did not simply wither, blacken and die. But this place did not belong entirely to her. Her small corner of it was a different matter.

She knew it didn't matter which direction she walked or even if she stood stock still, the stone-walled circle of the garden would always appear. And she would be drawn to it whether she walked toward it and passed through its arched gate under her own power or it came to her and engulfed her as the stone arch passed around her.

An early visit found her, in her unrepentant annoyance at being here again, thinking that the arch should be engraved with Dante's "Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate". The garden did not appreciate her indignation at being here in this place of her own creation. She would reap what she had sown; if she expected it - so it would be. Ever since then the inscription had been there, carved deeply and roughly into the stone arch she passed beneath. The portal into her own personal hell. Abandon all hope... It was inescapable.

She was unaware of stepping through it but an iron gate clanged shut behind her. When she glanced back, startled by the sound, it had transformed into a seamless wall of iron bars with no hinge, latch or lock. She found herself within the large outer circle of a chest-high grey stone wall forty paces across with five-foot iron spikes along the top of the wall - inches apart - sharp edges along their length and curved inward near their wicked, sharpened ends. She had attempted to scale them once only to find herself descending the bars on the opposite side with her hands cut to ribbons. She could still see the asphodel meadow outside but knew there was no way out of this ring of stone.

If she were on the southern point of a compass, mirror image fountains trickled steady streams of cool, clear water melodiously into their basins at the eastern and western points. The only difference between the two was that the water flowed from the mouth of a lion's head on the fountain to the east and that of a prancing, bow-wielding cherub to the west.

A large, gnarled tree of a variety she could not identify stood at the point opposite the gate just outside the stone wall. It's branches mingled with the spikes and overhung a small part of this part of the garden providing the temptation of the only possible escape. Despite the wind, its leaves did not stir. There was a small clearing of manicured grass in a semi-circle in front of this north most point and she knew that if she could reach the tree, or at least the shelter of its canopy as the tree itself was unreachable, she would be safe.

The rest of the garden floor was carpeted in foliage higher than the hem of her dress and scattered with the blooms of flowers. If she dared to look the visages of released souls were reflected in the petals of the many flowers and one-by-one they became aware of her presence.

She knew their number. And their faces. And most of their names. The scores of orange lilies, red poppies and an uncertain, inconsistent number of white daisies - they all surrounded her and called out to her by name. A confused cacophony as very few knew her by the same name.

At least there were fewer daisies this time.

She slid her bare feet step by careful step toward the safety of the grassy clearing farthest from the gate. All the flowers possessed tentacle-like vines thicker than the stems of the flowers and covered in thorns. The vines wove beneath the grass concealing themselves - snakes in the grass, poised to strike as viciously as she had against the earthly versions of the residents of her garden.

These first few steps were always more tranquil than unnerving. Fear served no purpose when you knew exactly what was coming and that you were powerless to avoid it.

She usually caught it out of the corner of her eye creeping up from behind her but this time it appeared directly under the tree when she was looking elsewhere. Twelve black pentagons and twenty yellow hexagons approximating a sphere - well worn from loving use - rolled to the right then left and right again, building enough momentum to roll along the face of the curved wall. It rolled from the shelter of the tree, along the border of the wall to come to rest against the lip of the eastern fountain's basin.

It had come after the inscription had added itself; a reminder that no sin would be forgotten. When it first appeared she had dashed toward it forgetting how foolish that could be. Sure that if she could get to it first all that came after could be avoided but knowing such a rewriting of history was impossible.

This time she watched it come to rest against the lion's basin and closed her eyes when she heard the rustling all around her intensify. The vines were licking at her ankles as a light rain began to fall. The few drops of rain were warm against her skin and she looked down to see that the rain was thick and red and as she looked up to the sky the drops that hit her lips tasted of iron.

Despite her expectation of it, she froze in horror as the vines found purchase on her ankles and wrapped tighter and tighter. Slicing through her skin until they gripped her by her very bones as the rain began to pour. The fountains on either side had changed - the lion became a demon with horns as massive as those of an Ankole bull while the cherub had become a sneering satyr. Both fountains flowed thick and red, gurgling grotesquely as the basins began to overflow.

She fell to her knees expressionless eyes downcast, finding herself unworthy of tears, resigned to her fate. Sweat and red rain now thoroughly soaked her dress and more vines found her wrists, sliced through the thin flesh and pulled her face down to the ground as the red rain fell with greater intensity. Then the vines began to drag her toward the clearing she had been so desperate to reach moments before.

The earth opened up like a giant sinkhole with a gentle slope on the side nearest her through the surface of which more vines appeared eagerly awaiting her. The depths below were filling with the red of the now torrential rain and the streams emanating from the fountains. She scrabbled frantically at the newly disturbed earth, her breathing becoming more panicked unable to slow her steady descent but refusing to scream, and ultimately closed her eyes and sobbed as she gave in to the pulling and tugging and resigned herself to being pulled below the earth to meet her end - bathed in blood and buried alive - eternally suffocating as the earthen walls of her tomb closed in around her.

Here among her dead was where she belonged. All she deserved.

.


.

Maison 23, Los Angeles, CA; Sat Sept 29, 2007 5:05 am

.

As was her habit the only movement she made upon waking was the opening of her eyelids. The only evidence of her distress a slight, sharp intake of breath. The recurring dream had become disturbingly familiar but still unsettled her every time it forced her to face her full accounting of misdeeds performed in service to her country. She could not attempt to hide the stigma of the lives she had taken behind justifications of the lives she may have saved. Doing wrong to do what was right still left her with the same burden to bear.

She glanced at the clock and went through the nearly automatic mental exercise of reviewing her mission and the role she was currently meant to be playing before rising for her morning exercises and checking for any messages or deliveries. Sarah Walker. Directionless food service worker. Relocated to the west coast just days before and almost immediately dating a delightful young man who worked in the same retail plaza.

A man she had been certain was uninvolved in the events underlying her investigation only to find he was just unaware of his involvement. One for whom she had allowed herself to entertain the idea of a selfish, short-lived tryst and then found to be so much more than just a sweet, funny and atypically handsome computer technician. One she had seen every day since as he injected his wry sense of humor into their daily intelligence reviews seeming to delight in forcing her to stifle a laugh in front of their humorless third wheel.

A man whose mere presence lightened her mood so much that she wished she could see him sooner than their planned lunch meeting; intended to maintain their cover but also allowing her to be a bit more unguarded - even as she guarded him - relieved of this lingering burden of her sleeping consciousness for a half hour or so. One she might allow to carry her baggage for a moment. One whose smile seemed capable of sweeping away the shadows of her nightmares - if only she dared to tell him any of what troubled her. One she hoped never learned of such things.

Because that was the risk of remaining here too long; of letting him in more than she originally planned. Sharing the shadows that hounded her meant sharing what she had done to bring them down upon her and admitting that they each had every right to wish their revenge upon her. She would rather he look at her the way he had upon first meeting her. Especially if the plan she had been briefed on last night was successful and he would soon be freed from the world of deception and death that he had been unknowingly dragged into.

Her plan was still intact if not as enjoyable as she had hoped. She would be gone before he could see through her. He would be a delightful and interesting footnote to her life - a man she had been interested in for a variety of reasons for once rather than a simple and empty physical attraction - man who made her look at the world differently simply because he reminded her that the world was not entirely devoid of good people.

And she would be an interesting footnote to his - the mysterious woman who appeared during the most dangerous time of his life and helped him avoid the fate of those the government fears before vanishing again just as quickly. With any luck, her past would remain a mystery and he would be able to look back upon her as fondly as she was certain to remember him.

She planted her feet on the lush carpet and felt a moment of terror and then relief when absolutely nothing happened. It was a dream she had dreamed countless times and this residual waking fear was something she knew most would call irrational.

She knew better.

The world was full of monsters.

.


.

018: The End of an Error

.

"O, brave new world that has such people in't!"

(The Tempest, Act V, Scene 1)

.

Weinerlicious, Burbank, CA; Sat Sept 29, 2007 11:15 am

.

Weinerlicious.

Just the word makes her cringe with its juvenile absurdity. The entire theme is absurd. The costume is insulting. And the so-called food is disgusting. Yet here she is endlessly wiping down a counter for the past week and attempting to master the intricacies of her new nemesis - the deep frier - on the off chance that someone deliberately sought out breaded and fried processed meat on a stick.

The previous Friday had brought her to the so-called restaurant on four hours of sleep to report for an interview with an overly self-important manager. She initially thought the CIA had outdone themselves. Thinking they must have started their work overnight, immediately after her and Casey's respective calls with Director Graham and General Beckman, and had the store up and running by the next afternoon. Scooter's presence - in fact, Scooter's existence - highlighted a more frightening truth: this place was real.

There was apparently a market for crap dipped in crap that you can dip in other crap.

She, Chuck, and Casey needed a place to review intel for Chuck's analysis and had been forced to use the Buy More out of convenience. Both Sarah's hotel and the Motel 6 where Casey was staying in the meantime were a little out of the way. They were considering setting up an apartment for Casey - already securing the one across the courtyard from the one Chuck shared with his sister and her boyfriend - and configuring it as a surveillance and communications post. Hopefully it would prove to be completely unnecessary.

The unlikely trio had tried meeting in the media room of the Buy More after hours that first day and the next two but either Morgan, the weaselly Indian man, his perpetually inebriated friend or some combination of the three were always there. They all seemed to hate their jobs yet never seemed to leave.

Fortunately, the same laziness that prevented Chuck and Casey's coworkers - and Sarah smiled at the thought of Casey's new 'peers' now that he worked at the Buy More - from leaving at night also precluded them from arriving early. So they eventually resigned themselves to meeting only once per day, meeting in the media room early in the morning every day for the past week where she and Casey would provide Chuck with a thick folder full of intelligence materials for his scrutiny. Their bosses were definitely trying to squeeze as much as they could from Chuck's mind as quickly as they could.

Chuck was starting to gain some control over the Intersect. Just being able to avoid actually falling to the ground was progress but he was becoming even better than that at managing the abrupt high jacking of his brain that came on involuntarily and unpredictably when he reviewed a photograph or a document. He tried to be thorough and visualize what he had seen in his 'flashes', as he called them, in an attempt to check the non-redacted portion of documents for potential secondary clues with some degree of success. On the fourth day after downloading the Intersect, he started to explore the ability to deliberately initiate secondary flashes on aspects he deemed noteworthy.

It was an inconsistent skill - only occasionally successful - but definitely demonstrated an increasing mastery over the burden Chuck had been saddled with. Casey had briefly left the room when he shared this discovery with Sarah and he had seemed deflated when she harshly snapped at him to keep it to himself. He was so eager to please and expressed the thought that this newfound skill might make him even more important to the government. Sarah realized he was only trying to improve his chances for survival.

While crossing the parking lot later she looked around them, softened noticeably as she leaned in and dared to share her true thoughts on the matter by telling him simply and quietly "Never let them see all of your cards, Chuck."

She didn't think he could literally survive being regarded as more valuable to the US government.

.


.

Buy More, Nerd Herd Desk, Burbank, CA; Sat Sept 29, 2007 11:22 am

.

Chuck Bartowski was watching the clock as surreptitiously as he was capable of being. He was looking forward to visiting the incredibly intriguing female half of his two-agent team of handlers now that he had fully recovered from the mental strain of reviewing this morning's intel packet - and the earlier verbal reaming from Big Mike over Morgan's misguided attempts at a classic tablecloth trick.

He had flashed on a ring she was wearing the next time he saw her after their conversation on the beach. It was nearly a week ago now that she had been casually shopping in the Buy More after her interview at the Weinerlicious and offering him a coquettish grin. After a flurry of images - only consciously processing one of a hummingbird - he saw surveillance footage of another woman shedding a bulky disguise as she quickly dispatched two men before shooting out the security camera.

He could still picture the blue stone of the ring under the barrel of a pistol and those enigmatic equally blue eyes intensely starring before shooting the camera - perhaps not realizing she was exposed and already recorded with everything happening so quickly. Or entirely out of spite since clearly someone had confiscated the recording - likely her being incredibly thorough - otherwise it could not have been included in the Intersect.

Shortly thereafter Chuck had realized he was somewhat capable of suppressing or stalling flashes that he did not feel were appropriate or worthwhile. He hoped it would help him cut through all of the white noise to ensure he could get through those intel packets each morning. He couldn't live with himself if something bad happened - if people were hurt - because he couldn't finish his task. Whenever he felt like stopping he considered how he would feel if something happened to his sister, Ellie, and someone had been able to prevent it but failed to do so. So he made jokes to hide his discomfort, suppressed the flashes that seemed unimportant and powered on to finish well before the rest of his colleagues arrived for work.

He learned of this ability through a deliberately aborted flash the next time he saw the image he now associated with Sarah. It felt rather like stifling a particularly violent sneeze and unexpectedly getting a nose full of sea water at the same time. He had barely processed seeing the hummingbird when he realized the breadcrumbs had led back to a mission report that included a grainy clip of surveillance footage. He violently aborted the flash upon seeing a brunette woman who was unmistakably 'Sarah'. But he couldn't unsee the woman with a steely glare, a long, curved knife reverse gripped with the edge out in each hand and an unaffected air as she stepped over the five bodies left in her wake.

He was more awestruck than intimidated. Clearly anyone who underestimated this woman was a fool to do so. He had only personally seen her in action that first night - the night of their aborted first date - and he struggled to reconcile the woman who had laughed at his jokes and smiled so sweetly at him with the woman who could clearly kick all kinds of ass. He tried to convince himself that he hadn't seen any blood in either flash or that the men on the floor might have simply been knocked unconscious. Failing to be reassured by that he considered that perhaps they had attacked her or had been about to and whatever she had done, she had no better choices.

He supposed he should be more intimidated by her than he was as he looked over to Home Appliances and made brief eye contact with Casey. Now he was intimidating and Chuck tried to hide that fact with snarky comments. It stood to reason that, if one agency had sent John Casey on this assignment, the other agency involved would send someone just as capable although infinitely more attractive.

Casey he couldn't read. His gruff persona may have been partly bluster but he wasn't inclined to test the theory. But Sarah...Sarah he just somehow knew, as dangerous as she clearly was, would never hurt him. That there was far more to her than that. And those that she had hurt...or possibly - likely - killed...that every one of them was their own unique story and he felt inclined to assume that she had done the right thing in each of those situations unless proven otherwise.

He couldn't ignore the possibility that the attraction he felt toward her was clouding his objectivity. Since that first date she hadn't tried to manipulate him. She had tried to be kind and understanding and patient despite their odd circumstances. She was trying to take care of him. If she had wanted to manipulate him she could have been much more aggressive about it. The fact that she had not, though a little disappointing on some level, made it increasingly easy for him to uphold his promise to try to trust her despite how deadly she was obviously capable of being.

Their lunch meetings had become the highlight of his day and he was amazed that their conversation flowed so easily or even that he was able to put two coherent words together in her presence. She shared some of what their intel reports might be able to achieve but mostly they sat at the outdoor tables and just people-watched and made up stories about the people wandering the plaza. In the beginning, the first few were simply enemy agents until he protested and she branched out into the depths of her imagination. Aspiring writers, lovers parting, secret dominatrix soccer moms and workers who had fled their professional lives and oppression of their home country for a new start. Con artists and circus performers and secret crushes.

He could ask about anyone around them and she could describe them without sneaking a glance. Even people behind her she would just nod toward the window or the mirror-like surface of the napkin dispensers on each table. She instructed him on always being aware of reflective surfaces and the secrets they sometimes betrayed. She memorized every person who entered a certain radius and - without even pausing to think as soon as Chuck called out a target - she would make up some fanciful tale in ten words or less as though she didn't see the wonder and magic in her own improvised stories.

She just said she had to keep an eye on them all anyway so they may as well make a game of it. He made a game of trying to determine which stories were meant to be absurd and which were serious. Which were from her travels and which were aspirations. A few were approximations of famous literary characters but she only smiled and said 'lots of things' when he asked what she liked to read.

She was without a doubt the most interesting person he had ever known despite knowing absolutely nothing about her.

So, for now, he chose to believe his instincts until she gave him reason to believe otherwise. To believe that there was something much, much more underneath her layers upon layers of armor that even she may have lost touch with.

Sure Sarah was confident and could be somewhat imposing - a combination he found incredibly impressive and attractive - but she definitely had a softer side that was even more intriguing. He was certain he had seen glimpses of it. But by definition a softer side is something to be protected. And having a soft side in a hard world meant she would have to defend herself against that world and rarely show that softer side. That she did show it to him in tiny moments only made him wonder more whether there was much more underneath the spy mask that she was reluctant to show.

He hoped for her sake that one day she would be able to let that woman run free. To embrace that part of herself. To be the sweet, engaging, funny - at least he thought she was funny - woman he had seen small glimpses of. It may be somewhere far from here, once the government has decided what to do with him or found a way to release him but he liked to think of her happy and laughing.

She clearly hadn't had that luxury in a long time.

.


.

Office of the Director of the NSA, Washington DC; Sat Sept 29, 2007 2:26 pm

.

Director Graham and General Beckman had just spent over an hour discussing the assessments for rebuilding the Intersect and evaluating the human upload capabilities after informing a few key personnel that an accidental upload had been successful on a test subject. Their top researcher had expressed a need to evaluate that person upon being informed the day before and they had just coordinated his dispatch to Los Angeles to conduct formal assessment and evaluation of the subject.

Potential removal of the uploaded data from the man they had disingenuously described as a test subject was discussed almost as an afterthought. The heads of the CIA and NSA were reviewing surveillance footage from a few hours earlier and Director Graham was laying the groundwork for the end of the accidental experiment in Burbank.

"Our most valuable secrets have been sent to an idiot." Graham commented as Chuck Bartowski emulated a bullfighter, wielding the red cloth in front of his friend Morgan as he charged, bent forward with his index fingers forming horns.

"Well, at least they weren't sent to his friend." Beckman observed as Morgan prepared for another charge.

Graham scoffed at the accuracy of her statement but returned the focus to the problem at hand "'Operation Chuck.' I can't believe this. I spoke with Agent Walker yesterday evening. She'll deliver Chuck to the rendezvous tonight."

"Good. Dr. Zarnow's on his way to L.A. now. He is our best. NSA's top scientist."

"Well, I hope he can fix this. But we should probably talk about contingencies..."

"If it fails, we'll continue to leverage him for information until we have a better solution. Despite Mr. Bartowski's..." she glimpsed back at the screen searching for an appropriate adjective "...unconventional behavior, he has produced useful intel."

"Of course, but I'm thinking more about what happens if we succeed. As you said, he already knows quite a lot."

"So, the same secure facility we had in mind? Agent Walker was quite convinced that he would be ineffective in such an environment."

"A position she has become more convinced of over this past week. I think he should be there now but I trust her judgment. Still, the more he knows, the more of a liability he becomes. He may reach a point where, whether he can still access the Intersect or not, he simply knows too much. When we have a functioning Intersect - as you say, a better solution - potentially managed by agents far less...unconventional - I question whether he will be a liability with no value whatsoever."

Beckman paused a moment to process exactly what the Director of the CIA was suggesting "That seems a little extreme, Director."

"Luckily we have two agents in position who deal in 'extreme' solutions."

Finally he had revealed a hint as to Agent Walker's true nature beyond the file Graham had provided. She had been certain that he would not have entrusted this assignment to a lesser agent and the way she had dismantled Casey's team that first night made it clear that Sarah Walker was anything but a lesser agent. Casey had requested permission to quietly look into her and she intended to call him immediately to approve his request. They needed to know what they were dealing with.

"I'll ask Major Casey to assess the situation. Monitor and report only. I imagine you'll want to keep your hands clean?"

"I think a genuine reaction from Agent Walker, as the target's girlfriend, would be most convincing. Don't you?"

"I see." No one could hold a grudge quite like Langston Graham and Diane Beckman knew exactly why he would want to leave John Casey holding the bag on this one if it came to that. For the time being, keeping such 'extreme solutions' within her control suited her just fine. "Don't worry, Langston. Some of us aren't afraid to make the tough calls. I'll inform Casey of our position on the matter. If that's all?"

The most unsettling thing about this entire conversation for Diane Beckman was that her deliberate barb had produced no effect whatsoever. "Just planning ahead Diane. It's best for everyone involved."

As he closed her office door behind him she looked back to the frozen image of the lanky host of the Intersect smiling good-naturedly at his friend behind the back of their wildly gesticulating manager and muttered "Not for everyone."

.


.

Weinerlicious, Burbank, CA; Sat Sept 29, 2007 11:27 am

.

Sarah Walker found herself nervously drumming her fingertips on the countertop and watching the clock, willing it to signify Chuck's lunch break before more customers entered or Scooter found some marginally productive task for her and reflecting on the past week watching over Chuck.

He had been deemed an 'Alpha Priority Intelligence Asset'. Something normally reserved for someone who could build a nuclear bomb out of household appliances or similar extreme security risks. Even those assets were usually given license to more or less live their lives with security personnel never far away. But Chuck had the unprecedented burden of knowing every secret of the US government, even if he wasn't entirely aware of everything he knew.

She understood the initial reaction but also knew immediately - even that first night - that even the idea of putting him in secure custody would mentally crush him. She had begun her mission here attempting to erase any perception that the loss of the Intersect had been a result of any failure on her part. She had quickly determined that the failure would be if something so rare she thought it didn't exist - a good man - was destroyed just because of Bryce's actions and agency in-fighting.

So she had cobbled together a defense on the fly that taking such action would compromise their ability to glean intelligence insights like the one that had avoided a crater in downtown LA where a hotel used to be. What she hadn't expected was the idea that she be kept on to watch over him.

She had approached and recruited assets only twice, then handing them off to teams more suited to the task of their ongoing care and feeding. She didn't know if either of them were still above ground and they weren't particularly nice men so she really didn't care. She had been gone in a matter of days and had never spent this much time with anyone she had so clearly misled. And certainly never let anyone burrow this far under her skin.

This one was important to her personally. He was the purest soul she had ever known and if she were part of hurting such a person in any way - or more than was absolutely necessary to protect him from harm - then there would truly be no possible way for her to justify anything she had done in a career that had led her to this point.

Maybe she was the right person for the job?

Chuck had done his part over the past week to bolster his case for maintaining this unusual arrangement. He even seemed pleased to be providing useful information but always left their meetings with intense headaches except for one day when the materials he reviewed had produced few flashes. Yet he kept coming back dutifully for more and she and Casey took copious notes on his findings. She couldn't speak for Casey but Sarah at least appreciated the fact that some of the intelligence he produced would go a long way to enabling operations or even saving the lives of agents in the field.

Even so, Sarah felt horrible at causing him such pain and felt responsible as one of the people who delivered the files that caused his flashes. It was as though he had an open wound that they refused to let heal. He wasn't in agony but he seemed to be almost constantly in some degree of both physical and mental distress. His only objections came in the form of sarcasm when they had pushed him long and hard, even then his wit clear and biting. He always apologized for his outbursts but she couldn't help but think that anyone else would have told them all to go to hell days ago.

Twice Sarah had insisted on taking him for breakfast after rougher sessions while Casey reported their findings. She had also successfully lobbied to give him a break for one day after a particularly debilitating headache the day before followed by a twelve hour shift at the Buy More which elicited an indecipherable grunt and sneer from Casey.

She picked him up at his apartment and took him for breakfast anyway.

This morning had been another rough session but Chuck swore he wasn't hungry and stuck to a simple cup of coffee. So Sarah had walked Chuck back to the Buy More - protectively holding him by the arm but selling it as him escorting her - before reporting for her shift at the Weinerlicious.

Despite the pain Chuck constantly endured he always seemed to find a way to make her laugh during their intel reviews, often highlighting the absurdities of her world. He was ridiculously irreverent and seemed to love irritating Casey which was ridiculously entertaining.

They often sat across from each other quietly at the Pancake Hut or when he visited at the Weinerlicious - which she didn't mind at all because it allowed her to read the emotions that were so evident on his face - and she consciously avoided talking about anything related to their secret activities. She indulged him by playing a silly game that had somehow been created out of her habit of scanning for threats and she knew when he was nearly sufficiently recovered when he began sharing stories of the unbelievable interactions with his coworkers or customers in increasingly animated and entertaining ways.

When she laughed, and he smiled at her - it somehow seemed like she took some of his pain away.

She wasn't cut out for this. She had already spent more time in his company than any other man she had ever felt such an attraction to besides Bryce. But they were both professionals. Both capable of turning such thoughts off and on - reserving them for the brief time they sometimes shared after a successful mission and before parting for the next.

She thought she could turn off her emotions but if Chuck had any such ability he had no such inclination. And the way he looked at her...sometimes she couldn't bear being looked at like that. Like she was something she wasn't at all. No matter what she had initially thought they could have had for a few hours - or a few days at best - the longer she stayed the more he would see her for what she really was. If he ever actually flashed on her he might run from the room or hide behind Casey. And he would be right to do so. The idea of being his handler for much longer was more terrifying than she could have imagined. Sooner or later he would see though her. Luckily, he wouldn't have that chance.

Sarah idly flipped though the dossier one more time. The action was just nervous energy - she had read the file on Dr. Jonas Zarnow cover to cover enough times that she could recite it. One of the original Intersect project team - and the one that had successfully combined it with the encoded image delivery mechanism utilized by Project Omaha. Hopefully he would be able to remove or suppress the Intersect and allow Chuck to return to his previous life.

They hadn't mentioned it to Chuck yet but she had just gotten the text from Casey that Zarnow's visit was a 'go'. She still hadn't decided whether she should start to warm Chuck to the idea and risk upsetting him or simply deliver him to the test site as instructed. If successful, Chuck would no longer be a security risk of the same magnitude but Sarah had plenty of unused leave and intended to hang around Burbank for a week or two just in case mere knowledge of the existence of the Intersect or any classified intel to which he had already been exposed made higher-ups reconsider Chuck's freedom.

She would do so from afar. Continued direct contact would be frowned upon and more importantly she didn't want him thinking she had any power over when she might be called away - possibly ending up with yet more vile entries on her resumé. Or for herself to be tempted to stay once the risk of him discovering her bloody secrets in the blink of an eye was neutralized. She would be the ghost she once was and he would likely never see her again but she would be able to leave without regrets if she knew that he was truly free.

She vaguely considered the fact that business had slightly but steadily picked up over the course of the week as she put the file away when the bell over the door rung heralding a group of young boys who had just entered. Chuck would be coming over to visit for his cover lunch any minute and she hoped that the tonight would be a first step in restoring the life that had been stolen from him.

And maybe - just maybe - if she continued to defy the life expectancy of her profession many years from now she could come back to Burbank and see what Chuck Bartowski thought of her under different circumstances.

She tore herself away from those unproductive and extremely unlikely fantasies and returned to idly wiping down the counter as the gawking boys pretended to contemplate the menu.

.


.

019: Rise

.

"Now I will believe that there are unicorns..."

(The Tempest, Act III, Scene 3)

.

Echo Park; Sun Sept 30, 2007, 4:50 pm

.

"Hi. I'm Sarah."

She repeated it and other variations as she stood on the front stoop trying to calm her breathing. A little over half an hour ago Agent Sarah Walker was nearing her wits end, muttering her side of an imaginary introduction. She had never met an adversary she couldn't outfight or outwit, never encountered a challenge she couldn't overcome. But the woman she needed - wanted - to impress tonight was a more daunting foe than she had ever faced. And her battle plan had hit an enormous snag.

That fucking oven...

As she had pulled a second large ramekin out of the large, infrequently used oven behind the counter of the Weinerlicious, she put her hands on her hips, closed her eyes and tilted her face to the heavens as she sighed deeply in frustration. This one, like the one before, had fallen before reaching the expected height. Scooter's shift had ended at 3 o'clock so she had closed early. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. She had wanted a test run to go perfectly and had assumed that it would until the inconsistent kitchen equipment she had been struggling with for days struck again.

She knew she could do this. It had been ages but she used to experiment all the time when her dad was out and she was left to fend for herself. The ones she knew how to cook, she knew how to do well. A few staples and a few more ambitious dishes. A chocolate soufflé with an optional rum glaze was one of the latter.

She had just enough time - and just enough ingredients - to make one more attempt, pack the batter into her last clean ramekin, bake it at Ellie's as she had planned all along and pray that it turned out as light and airy and heavenly as she had expected the first two gloppy disappointments to be.

Armed with a poor excuse for a makeshift cooler and her 'never-failed' recipe that had just failed twice, she found herself still muttering potential greetings as she made the short drive to the Bartowski-Woodcomb-Bartowski residence, each more asinine than the last.

Ridiculously bubbly as she backed out of her parking spot, "Hi, you must be Ellie." thinking Captain Awesome meet Captain Obvious.

She dipped her chin to lower her voice in a gruff approximation of Casey's as she left the plaza and merged into traffic, "Greetings citizen, are you a loyal American?"

A sultry temptress with an inexplicably French accent, raising an eyebrow at herself in the rear view mirror as she waited for a light to change, "Hi, your bruzzer, he has a nice ass, no?..."

An air-headed valley girl as she turned onto his street, "Hi, like, where's the booze?"

And finally, with a sigh and in her own voice as she parked the car and rested her forehead briefly against the steering wheel, "Hi. I'm an idiot."

When the door to the apartment actually opened, the simplest of the bunch escaped her lips without her permission...

.


.

"Hi, I'm Sarah"

The simplicity of those three words belied the irrational nervousness she was feeling about meeting the woman who for all practical purposes was Chuck's only biological family and had apparently taken Chuck in after he had left before graduating Stanford. A story he had not yet shared with her. She was also still processing the fact that her assignment here had just been extended indefinitely and she was getting sucked deeper and deeper into the life of the man she was meant to be protecting.

First of all, she was still trying to reconcile this idea of being someone called Sarah Walker as anything more than an empty skin-suit used to navigate the stodgy official corridors of Washington or Langley. Someone who was both a low-level CIA contract employee disguising her true nature as an unflappable highly-trained field agent protecting a singularly unique man who held the secrets of a nation, and simultaneously, a very nervous, fictional girlfriend to that same young man.

She realized as she fretted over this meeting on the drive over that Chuck himself was the same person in either scenario - a brilliant computer repair technician with an underutilized intellect. A reluctant hero - whether in small ways to his family, friends and colleagues - clearly the de facto leader of his oddball crew at the Buy More - or on a scale with global ramifications - neither was too daunting for him and either seemed to simply come naturally once thrust upon him.

A delightfully quirky, sweet, charming and handsome young man who suffered from well-justified bouts of despondence masked with self-deprecating humor. He wasn't two different people there were just facets that remained hidden from some observers. And he didn't advertise. His humility rounded out the package and deflected any well-deserved accolades.

And he did have a nice ass.

She, on the other hand, had a foot in two vastly different worlds and didn't know which - or how much - of either represented the real her; the hard and the soft. One version was essentially a government fixer - an uncompromising weapon of clandestine warfare - most frequently, little better than an assassin. In a generous moment, perhaps she could be simply described as a government agent and ignore the connotations that only people like her appreciated.

The other was an ordinary food-service worker with no obvious or expressed aspirations. Less than glamorous and she had been insulted - not personally, but on behalf of Chuck - when she realized her cover was meant to mirror Chuck's position at the Buy More. This side of her was a woman fleeing an only partly fictional toxic relationship, trying to find a new start and stumbling upon an uncommon treasure who had fixed her phone and frequently - truly - made her smile. And made such a mundane existence seem a little less mundane.

Maybe she was really someone else entirely - or could be - but based on her current nervousness the balance was tilting by an uncomfortable amount toward the category of 'girlfriend'. And perhaps the reason it seemed so uncomfortable was because it wasn't uncomfortable at all.

After only two 'dates' - one ending in an impromptu mission and the other no more than a science experiment - resulting in an assignment turned indefinite via death by explosive - and several breakfasts and lunches together but just the one dinner - here she was about to have a second dinner with him and to meet the only family her new 'boyfriend' had in the world.

She had been surprised when Chuck had passed along Ellie's invitation but since Dr. Zarnow had been vaporized when his car exploded and it seemed she would be remaining in Burbank as Chuck's cover girlfriend for the foreseeable future it seemed the prudent thing to do.

And despite - or perhaps because of - her nervousness, the importance of that impending meeting seemed like something more significant than maintaining a cover. It was frightening and simultaneously felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Her mind was filled with that thought as she easily and seemingly naturally introduced herself to the woman who had opened the door.

.


.

"Hi, I'm Sarah."

Chuck had never mentioned how beautiful his sister was. In fact, he hadn't spoken of his sister much since that first date but when he did it was with reverence. He also spoke of her with love and affection, certainly, but there was something admiring and respectful in his tone far beyond the feelings usually associated with siblings.

Which made it even more disarming the way Eleanor Bartowski beamed with excitement upon opening the door and finding the woman she had been led to believe was her brother's new girlfriend standing on her front stoop with a bottle of wine and a paper bag containing her uncooked desert clutched to her chest.

Sarah was as stunned as her hostess appeared to be. The woman who had opened the door was roughly as tall as her - or would be in similar shoes but had chosen more practical footwear - tall and slender like her brother with features both striking and warm. Her long, dark hair hung straight and loose and, in a simple black spaghetti strap top with a muted purple floral print, she made casual look elegant.

That engaging, captivating, genuine smile was apparently a genetic gift and their eyes were similar but Eleanor's tended more toward green. For some reason, Chuck's sister was rendered speechless for a moment simply looking at her before remembering to extend her hospitality and when she did her exuberance spewed forth unchecked as if a dam had burst.

"Oh my God! Sarah? Chuck's Sarah? Sorry, of course you are. It's just so wonderful to meet you. Of course I'm Chuck's sister, Ellie." Sarah balanced her burden in the cradle of her left arm and extended her right hand with her arm stiff all the way to her shoulder and neck. The posture was an involuntary reaction to her nerves but served the purpose of portraying herself as a nervous new girlfriend.

She thought for a moment about Ellie referring to her as Chuck's anything and found the possessive choice of terms, strangely, didn't bother her a bit. Like her brother, Sarah liked her immediately. Also like her brother, Sarah desperately hoped that she would like her.

"Can I help you with that?" Ellie offered and didn't wait for a response as she relieved Sarah of the simple paper bag. It was heavier than it looked - with a bag of ice in the bottom cradling the unbaked soufflé wrapped in cellophane - but Ellie handled it easily. She glimpsed inside and squinted at Sarah with a joyful smile as she playfully asked "What did you do?"

"I hope it's not too forward but I...uhh...I brought dessert." she stuttered before slipping into a rambling explanation. "If I can just pop it in the fridge for now...I don't want to impose but it's soufflé and it's much less dramatic if you don't serve it straight from the oven. I wanted to do something special. Would you mind terribly if I used your oven during dinner?"

Eleanor Faye Bartowski could not have looked more delighted at the suggestion.

.


.

"Hey, Babe, have you seen my..."

The rumbling baritone of his voice preceded the man as Devon pulled up short and scrutinized the other tall beautiful woman standing in his kitchen sharing a glass of wine before dinner with his girlfriend.

"Devon, this is Sarah. Chuck's new girlfriend." Ellie said meaningfully, raising an eyebrow over the lip of her wine glass as she smiled into it and took a sip.

"Wow..." Devon paused to examine her a bit but Sarah was pleased to see that his eyes didn't wander downward more than the inevitable glimpse out of male reflex. He mostly just looked her in the eye with an expression that rapidly changed from quizzical to elated as he smiled broadly and slowly rumbled "Swing for the fences, Chuckster!"

That earned him a playful elbow in the stomach that he responded to with an exaggerated oof! although Ellie's half-hearted strike had literally bounced off his abdomen. His devilish smile was returned with a good-natured 'don't-encourage-him' smirk of her own from Ellie. "What my filter-less boyfriend means to say is that you're very beautiful. Weren't you looking for something, Devon?"

"Oh, yeah. Thanks, Babe." Devon quickly got the point - one that Sarah easily identified as likely being a prearranged one as he had just literally thanked Ellie for nothing - that Ellie wanted to interrogate Sarah unaccompanied and uninterrupted. "Didn't know little bro had it in him. But she's not the only incredibly beautiful woman here."

As he said this last part, he had locked eyes with Ellie as he leaned in, snaked an arm around her waist to pull her close briefly and possessively only to kiss her lightly and sweetly on the crown of her head. Ellie smiled that electric Bartowski smile as she playfully pushed him away promoting Devon to release her as he moved toward the hallway and backpedaled toward their bedroom. "I'll go take care of...that...and leave you two ladies to it then. Very nice to meet you, Sarah."

"And you, Devon. And thank you." Sarah smiled as Devon gave Ellie a poorly concealed thumbs up and she threw a dish towel at him. Observing them together for less than a minute, Sarah now knew two things for certain about the man known by some as Captain Awesome: he was a horrible liar and he utterly adored Ellie.

"So..." Ellie continued with a broad smile "...that's Devon."

"Chuck said everyone calls him Captain Awesome?"

Ellie rolled her eyes. "Or just Awesome. Please don't be like everyone. It's a holdover from college. Chuck thinks its hilarious."

"He probably thinks that because you don't." Sarah smiled and Ellie smiled back at that, appreciating Sarah's awareness of Chuck's teasing nature and decided to tease back.

"So why is it that Morgan..." Ellie dragged out the name with disdain even as she smiled at her "...got to meet you before I did?"

"Oh, that wasn't Chuck's fault. It's just that we met at the Buy More and Morgan was right there." Ellie was pleased that Sarah was both defending Chuck and that something good had finally come from Chuck's self-imposed exile from the larger world to the confines of the electronics superstore.

Sarah went on to provide Ellie a sanitized description of their meeting and first date, with an aww at the story of the ballerina and her father, tutting in disapproval at Chuck's failure to call Sarah, and beaming at Sarah coming back to the Buy More, dragging him out dancing after dinner and the two of them sitting on the beach talking until dawn. Sarah was surprised in the retelling that all the bits she could share - even in their sanitized forms - were fond memories despite the context she knew she had withheld.

"Do you really not like Morgan?" Sarah asked, recalling how Ellie had asked the original question and suddenly realizing just how much she had shared. There was something about Ellie - a trait she shared with her brother - that practically compelled you to confide in her.

Ellie sighed and combed the fingers of her right hand through her hair before answering. "Morgan's just a little...intense? He's easier to deal with when Chuck's around and they go off on their arcane pop-culture discussions. I had to send him hunting for a specific brand of dinner rolls because he was driving me crazy in the kitchen. Speaking of..."

Ellie glanced at the oven and Sarah followed her gaze to see the timer with only 20 seconds remaining. Ellie set her wine glass down next to a large bowl of tossed salad on the pass through and stepped over to the oven. Sarah now realized that Ellie had kept an eye on the stove the whole time. When Ellie opened the oven door the heavenly aroma of fresh-baked bread filled the small space that took her back to pleasant memories of her own youth.

Ellie extracted a tray of absolutely perfect dinner rolls and winked at her as she closed the oven door by deftly passing it from her foot to her hip. "It's set at 350. What do you need for your soufflé? Everyone should be here in a few minutes and we'll have served dinner by the time it's ready for your big reveal."

"I like to start at 400." Ellie bumped up the temperature and started separating rolls and dropping them into a bowl lined with a towel before returning to her glass of wine and her previous pose.

"OK, so it was a mean trick but I guess I tolerate Morgan. He adores Chuck, always has. Chuck and I have been the only family that either of us has for a long time but Morgan has always been there for him. You said he was right there and - for better or worse - except for when Chuck was away at college - he always is. Always. He'd jump in front of a train for Chuck. I'll tolerate a lot for someone like that. He can just be a little...trying. He's also had a crush on me for as long as he's known Chuck. I think he keeps waiting for me and Devon to break up again."

"Again? I thought you two had been together since med school?"

"Not quite." Ellie took a sip of her wine as she contemplated how much to share. Sarah had given up a lot of information about her and Chuck with minimal prompting so she took a breath and dove in. "We've known each other for about seven years now. We met in med school. First day. He was just so handsome and sweet and god, his voice. Had a wild fling for a while but I wasn't ready for anything serious. I...I had a lot going on up until then and just wanted to focus on me for a while, you know?" Sarah nodded in understanding. She certainly hadn't been inclined to put any relationships first in her own life.

"We may have hooked up a few times during med school but we ended up doing our general residencies in the same hospital and just kept bumping into each other. We started dating again - more seriously this time - but there was just a lot going on...for both of us. I just thought I was too much of a mess and reacted badly to some things. Chuck thought it was his fault for a while. He takes too much onto himself. Always has. But it wasn't. It really wasn't, he just didn't know what was really going on." and Ellie reached out to touch Sarah's forearm reassuringly to emphasize the point. "Devon and Chuck get along great and always did...it was just a mess. Chuck kinda took care of me for a while. Said it was his turn. He's...I know I'm his sister and I'm supposed to say so but Chuck is just a wonderful person."

Ellie took another sip of her wine before continuing "But around Christmas that year, Devon comes back practically begging - saying he missed me and wanted another chance - thought we were worth another chance - and just kept at it. Doing a lot of sweet things but not being obnoxious about it."

"Like what?" Sarah prompted. She had expected Ellie to make a case for Chuck but even though she agreed whole-heartedly that Chuck was a wonderful person she was curious to hear the rest of Ellie's story.

"Like bringing me lunch on his off days from this place that he knew I liked but was too far to get there and back during my break. Just little things. After a couple of months, I finally decided to give us one more chance. I missed him too and wanted to at least be able to say we gave it a real shot. I had just been worried about it falling apart again. I didn't think I could bear that. That was over two years ago and I think we're going to make it this time. I really do. I don't think I'm scared anymore. Don't tell him I said so..." for some reason she had gotten a little misty and but no tears actually threatened as she leaned in slightly, smiled and lowered her voice to whisper conspiratorially "...but he is pretty awesome."

Sarah had expected to hear a perfect little sickening lovey dovey story. She was surprised that she was more impressed by how real Ellie was. No pretenses whatsoever.

She also loved her brother. It defined her more than she would expect of sibling love and it made her wonder what she meant about taking care of each other. She suspected it had to do with her and Devon's breakup. The Bartowski siblings struck her as people who fell hard and deeply in love and could easily be devastated by a failed relationship - something that had been part of her initial briefing on Chuck.

A lot that hadn't been spoken must have gone on to make Ellie dump a man known as Captain Awesome twice. Especially since it was clear from Ellie's body language and tone during her story that she had always loved him. And she couldn't ever picture Ellie as any sort of mess. But even if she had been at one time and she was now this perfect career woman, girlfriend and sister it meant such a thing was possible. Whatever had happened, she had worked it out. Figured out who she was. You just had to be as smart and determined as Eleanor Bartowski. A tall order to be sure.

"Anyway..." Ellie dramatically said before continuing "...that's all pretty much common knowledge around here and now at least you're not at a disadvantage. But I thought I was supposed to be grilling you or at least revealing all of Chuck's embarrassing stories not my life history." Just then the oven dinged to indicate it was ready and Ellie observed "Everyone should be here any minute. Chuck's pretty reliable about that kind of thing. Wanna pop your soufflé in?"

Sarah retrieved her soufflé from the refrigerator, said a silent prayer, slid it into the oven, set the timer and dropped the temperature by 25 degrees. "Gives the crust a little extra puff so it has something to climb as it bakes." she explained.

As if Sarah didn't feel enough pressure, Ellie offered "I'm so jealous. I never could get a soufflé to come out right."

"Well, it's all in the whisk." And Sarah was surprised and relieved that she had enough knowledge of how to properly hand beat egg whites until they were stiff enough to support the weight of an uncooked egg and various tips like using room temperature, slightly old eggs and how to know when you were over-beating them to interest Ellie. This way she could avoid the promised 'grilling' Ellie had indicated was coming. Ellie revealed that she had always used a mixer to beat her egg whites the few times she had tried a soufflé and while they had turned out OK, they weren't quite what she had been expecting.

Sarah was sure that Ellie was being more than a little modest and that they had been more than OK. Ellie shooed her out of the kitchen when she realized everything was going to be done at about the same time - which Sarah noticed first and praised as something she could never get right and Ellie beamed at the praise saying "You are welcome to any and all of my secrets" something Agent Walker could honestly say no one had ever offered freely. Ellie told her to take her wine and have a seat since she was a guest.

Still she grabbed the salad on her way and then came back for the rolls before doing so. She was glad she hadn't really had to lie too much to Ellie. Like Chuck, she was surprised how much she really wanted the other young woman to like her and had also been surprised how normal and easy their kitchen conversation had been.

Sarah had a strange, fleeting thought that she had just met the woman she wished she could be.

She heard Devon talking to someone in the hallway as she tried to relax at the table; silently cheering for her dessert to rise properly and not fall. All her earlier expert tips would be somewhat diminished if the end result wasn't any better than OK. If nothing else goes right at least she can still impress Ellie. So no matter what was going on with Chuck and Casey at least one thing would go right tonight.

Morgan rounded the corner with a package of pre-made rolls "Special delivery. Through the Mor-gan door" he singsonged. "...oh hey Sarah. I...Ellie, what are these?" Sarah had raised her hand in greeting as Morgan was distracted by the fresh baked bread on the table.

"Those are for everyone for dinner. The ones in your grubby paw are so I can send you home with enough pot roast sliders to last three days. Just share with your mom and tell her 'Hi' from us."

Sarah smiled at the lengths Ellie had gone to in order to spend a few moments alone with her and found herself hoping she had liked her even as Morgan's eyes glazed over a bit and he muttered to Ellie "You...are a goddess." She could see why Ellie needed a short break from the talkative, enthusiastic bearded man but she had also planned a special treat for him despite her feigned disdain. Sarah silently thanked Ellie for the intel that Morgan was someone who had to be actively managed.

She could also see how close this group was and that they had rallied together in difficult times before. That morning on the beach she had told Chuck to tell them nothing to keep them safe. She could see now how difficult that would be for him. She had effectively cut off his support system as he struggled with his new reality and the realization that no end was in sight. Her first priority was to keep him safe. As much as she might feel something more under different circumstances, such thoughts were secondary to his safety. And she was a poor replacement for these people who loved and supported him.

She had come here tonight hoping to keep up appearances. Instead she had met the most delightful, clever and good-hearted woman she could have ever hoped to know. A woman she would have liked to call a friend. Knowing how it would destroy her brother if anything happened to her, and just knowing the woman herself, a woman she wanted to keep safe as much as her brother.

Ellie, Devon and Morgan. She knew her mission priorities but the circle of her protection had grown. She couldn't - and likely wouldn't need to - take actions as direct as those that might be required to protect Chuck and still preserve Chuck's secret. She doubted whether she fully grasped Chuck's burden but was now starting to understand the difficulty of what she had asked of him. She too was now left with one primary means of keeping the other people in this apartment safe. She would tell them nothing.

The oven timer dinged and Ellie immediately called out that she could get it if Sarah didn't mind.

Sarah checked the time and realized that Ellie's ever-punctual brother should have been home by now. She had a flurry of contradictory thoughts about calling to validate his whereabouts, letting Ellie do it so it didn't seem like she was acting purely as his handler, whether she was striking an appropriate balance between concern for her asset versus a girlfriend's concern about dinner going well and whether she had time to whip up that rum glaze. Somehow she managed to answer Ellie's question with what sounded like a very casual "Sure. Thanks." even as Morgan asked in a whisper "Ellie let you make dessert?" with a disbelieving expression of awe.

Sarah just nodded with a small smile but sat in horrified anticipation, fighting not to bite at her nails for the few seconds that seemed like minutes before the verdict was rendered. Still hoping to make a good impression for reasons she could no longer distinctly separate.

Under different circumstances maybe they could have been friends. She would have liked to be her friend.

Only now did she realize that she may have encroached on the other woman's domain more than Ellie had let on. Ellie didn't seem to feel that way and Sarah couldn't help but be delighted with what she heard next.

"Oh, wow Sarah...It's perfect."

.


END OF LINE


.

A/N2: In researching for this part I discovered that soufflé is a tricky little beast but not in the cartoonish way that I knew of and there is only one way it could have been served properly in the episode in question.

(Also the Nolan Batman movies - particularly The Dark Knight Rises - have been on HBO almost constantly and I've been reading a lot of Castle fan fic set around the beginning of its S4 - first episode of S4 was named 'Rise' - and thought pompously titling a chapter 'Rise' only to have it center around a delicious pastry dessert was - in the words of Jayne Cobb - 'HIGH-larious'...just me?...alrighty then...)

That combined with the realization that the first meeting between Ellie and Sarah occurred offscreen led to that entire scene. Is it likely that Ellie spilled all this to Sarah upon first meeting her? I think it's possible in her excitement for Chuck that she overshares a little. But I want to tell a little of Ellie's story too and this is part of it.

From the broader Chuck timeline, a flashback in 'Angel de la Meurte' tells us that Ellie's first day of medical school was seven years ago - in late August or early September 2000 - when Chuck was entering his second year at Stanford - and we all know what happened on her first day. Yet in 'Seduction' Devon mentions to Morgan that he and Ellie have been dating for three years at that point (actually, that he's been in love with her for three years). Certainly not seven years. And really who could date Ellie Bartowski and wait seven years to propose? Not awesome. And umm...not Awesome. But that is another tale for another time...