Song: "Let Me Go," by 3 Doors Down.

A/N: Sorry for the delay, peeps! I'm actually pretty happy with this chapter, so I hope you enjoy it. The lyrics don't follow exactly, but I think the song works pretty well in general.

One more kiss could be the best thing
But one more lie could be the worst
And all these thoughts are never resting
And you're not something I deserve

Sarah keeps her face turned toward the television, but glances over at Chuck from the corner of her eyes. The bluish light from the screen illuminates his face, and the effect is mesmerizing. She shifts on the couch, curling her feet underneath her. He doesn't take his eyes off the movie, merely waits for her to get comfortable, then replaces his hand over hers, brushing his thumb along her palm.

She has no idea what they're doing. They're not dating, but they're not exactly just platonic friends either. She's taking each day at a time, trying to figure out things as they go. She can see Ellie flick a glance and a smile at them from her perch on the easy chair, where she's tangled in Awesome's arms. Ellie's asked her more than once where she stands with Chuck before realizing that Sarah herself doesn't even know. Sarah turns to see Morgan and Anna cuddled together on the other end of the couch, Morgan stroking his girlfriend's hair.

Suddenly overwhelmed by the amount of . . . defined relationship in the room, she rises from the couch and heads toward the kitchen. Chuck's attention is finally drawn from the movie. He turns toward her, his arm outstretched because he won't let go of her hand and a question etched on his face.

"Relax," she whispers with a smile at his concern, "I'm just getting some more water."

He nods and releases her hand. She pads softly into the kitchen, breathing deeply and running a hand through her hair. She refills her glass, but doesn't return to the living room right away. Instead, she leans on the counter, watching the group of friends – her friends. She revels in the fact that she's building a new life for herself, but recognizes the danger in that. She knew was she was giving up in joining the agency, and she can't go back on that now, not because a nice guy with a goofy grin and an awkward, honest way of loving her came along. She's amazed how completely he can love her, despite the fact that he barely knows her.

But even as she promises herself, she realizes that something's changed between the two of them. He's opened his heart for her, and she can't go back to the way things used to be. She's been coasting along, not making a decision about her feelings either way. She's been hiding behind her job, but she needs to start living.

The movie's almost over, and Chuck's smiling in anticipation of the climax. She doesn't want this night to end, because she loves nights like this. They make her feel normal again. She wants that normal life with him, but at the same time, she's not sure she deserves it. He's so good, so kind. And after all the things she's seen, all the things she's done, how can she tell him about her life in the agency? About the men and women she's killed? It's such a huge part of her identity that she needs to tell him eventually.

Eventually. But not tonight.

Returning to her seat on the couch, she takes a chance and leans into him. The surprise is evident on his face, but he reaches an arm across her back, allowing her to snuggle into him. For the remainder of the movie, she's just Sarah Walker, a woman in love with Chuck Bartowski.

In my head there's only you now
This world falls on me
In this world there's real and make believe
And this seems real to me

Chuck walks her to her car, but before she can drive away, Casey pops out of the bushes.

"Hey, Walker, hold up," he says quietly, approaching her car.

She rolls down the window, thinking he has a message from the directors. "What is it?"

"Don't ya think it's time you and I had a little chat?" he asks rhetorically, sitting on his haunches and leaning his arms on the open window frame.

She looks straight ahead, ticked off that he has to choose right now to have this conversation. What if Chuck or Ellie comes outside and sees them? She sighs, and waits for him to broach the subject.

Casey stares at her accusingly. "You're getting too close to him."

"I'm not sure that's any of your business, Casey," she responds coldly.

"It is if it ever gets in the way of a mission, which I'm sure it will eventually."

She turns her head to look at him now. "Isn't it better to have people who care about him protecting him?"

He scoffs, but she knows he catches the intimation that he's come to care for Chuck in his own strange way. Suddenly looking weary, he rubs his eyes. "What are you going to do about it?"

"My job is to protect him, and that's exactly what I intend to do." Her voice is strong, and brooks no room for argument.

Casey's face assumes a look of disapproval. "You know I could report you for this. They'll drag your ass out of here faster than you can recite the Bill of Rights."

She doesn't respond, simply looks at him. They both know she has more than enough information she can report to their superiors on him, too. Her gaze isn't pleading, but it's soft.

He grimaces, finally relenting. "Be careful," he warns uncharacteristically, standing up.

Her eyebrows raise. She's not quite sure what he's warning against. Letting the directors find out? Hurting Chuck? Despite his protests, Casey's grown fond of the Bartowskis and their group of friends. She knows that he wouldn't want to see them hurt, and neither would she. She nods, grateful that he's somewhat on her side.

"Goodnight, Casey," she says, and shifts into drive.

He bids her goodnight as she pulls away into the night.

You love me but you don't know who I am
I'm torn between this life I lead and where I stand
And you love me but you don't know who I am
So let me go
Let me go

"Take me down to Paradise City, where the grass is green and the girls are prettyyyyyyyy!" Chuck practically screams.

Sarah's glad she opened the car windows, if only to let out the noise coming from the passenger's side, but she can't help the grin that appears on her face. He rarely fails to make her laugh, especially if he achieves it by making a fool of himself.

"Come on, Sarah! Sing it with me!" He urges in between lines. The glint of amusement in his eyes is more than enough to make her relent and she joins in, adding her off-key soprano without a hint of self-consciousness. Within seconds, she and Chuck can barely sing for laughing so hard, and tears are streaming out of her eyes so that she can hardly see the road.

Before long, though, they arrive at the beach. Sarah pulls smoothly into a parking spot, looking over at Chuck with a smile on her face. From the parking lot, she can see that the rest of the group has already arrived. Morgan and Anna are playing Frisbee, Ellie's lounging with a book, and Awesome's waxing his surfboard. Anna looks up and sees them.

"Sarah! Chuckles!" she shouts, waving.

Morgan looks up at the exact moment that Anna throws the Frisbee. It hits him in the stomach, stunning him. Sarah winces, and Chuck actually jumps.

"Ouch," Chuck mutters, then turns to gather up the beach gear from the car.

"I'm all right," Morgan yells, and Sarah smiles. It's just a plastic Frisbee, after all.

They head down to the sand and make their way over to the party. Ellie stands up to greet them. Sarah hugs her and waves to Awesome, who looks up from his surfboard with a grin.

"Hey, sis," Chuck says with a smile.

"Hey. Do you know if John's coming?"

"I'm not sure. Sorry." He glances at Sarah, amused. He'd love to see how Casey conducted himself at the beach. In fact, she'd like to see that, too, but she doesn't really care if he shows up or not. She just wants to enjoy spending the day with friends, especially with this man beside her.

"Do you surf, Sarah?"

She turns to talk to Awesome, but immediately glances back at Chuck, almost as if asking him to lead. He's preoccupied with spreading out the beach blanket, though, so she's on her own with this one.

"Yeah, I've tried it a few times, actually."

Devon lets out an excited laugh. "Awesome. None of these guys'll go with me. There's a board rental place down the beach a ways."

"Sure. I'd love to try it again." She turns to Chuck, who's in the midst of falling down onto the freshly-laid blanket. "What about you, Chuck? Are you going to surf with us?"

"Heh," he laughs, glancing up from where he's plopped down on the blanket, "I think I'll stick to boogie-boarding and sandcastle-building, thank you."

"Hey, Chuck!" Morgan drops the Frisbee onto his friend's stomach. "Wanna go swim? Anna and I have been waiting for you to show up."

Chuck opens his eyes. "Sure, buddy." He gets up and strips off his t-shirt. "Coming, Sarah?"

Sarah's breath catches in her throat. She's never actually seen Chuck shirtless, and it's a very pleasant sight. Far from the pale, thin body she was expecting, his chest is broad and his arms are well-defined. Well, okay, he's still a little pale, but a few hours in the sun will help that. And she kind of has a thing for pale guys anyway.

"Um, uh, yeah," she stammers, "Just, let me . . . ." She moves to edge of the blanket to shed her tank top and shorts, revealing a dark red bikini.

Now it's Chuck's turn to stare. But instead of ogling, he's polite about it, and his eyes quickly rise to meet hers. He grins and reaches out for her hand.

"Last one to the water's a rotten egg!" Morgan yells, and the four of them take off running. It doesn't bother Sarah that she and Chuck are the last ones to the ocean, because they're connected, and that's all that matters to her.

I dream ahead to what I hope for
And I turn my back on loving you
How can this love be a good thing
When I know what I'm going through

Chuck still holds her hand as they run into the ocean, sending waves splashing. Once they're out far enough, he sinks into the water and dips his head underneath, resurfacing and shaking the water out of his hair and eyes. She watches him with amusement.

"What's a matter?" he asks with a crafty smile. "Afraid of getting your hair wet?"

"Of course not," she responds, and promptly accepts the challenge.

As soon as she emerges, she feels a splash of water from behind. She turns to face her attacker. It's Morgan, wearing an innocent expression and trying to hide behind Anna. She's not used to water battles, but soon an all-out war begins.

Fifteen minutes later, the battle's still raging, and Sarah's forsaken all her training in favor of having a good time.

"No fair! No using me for cover!" Chuck sputters as Sarah tries to duck behind him and Anna's splash of water hits him full in the face. He swims to his left, but she grabs his ankle as he kicks. He stops abruptly, almost sinking. She pulls him back, and his head bobs above the surface.

"It's not my fault you're the tallest person here!" she laughs.

He swivels his body to face her, but she doesn't let go of his ankle, just shoots him a mischievous grin. She pulls him in towards her, finally releasing his foot. He swallows, and wraps his arms around her back. Suddenly nervous at his closeness, her breathing is heavy. But he runs one hand slowly down her bare back, and she feels confident enough to lean one hand on his chest, her fingertips twirling the light dusting of hair.

Chuck gives her a lopsided smile, and the rest of the world fades away. She takes a step closer. His lips are only inches from hers, so close that she can feel the warmth of his breath on her mouth. Tentatively, hesitantly, she begins to close the gap.

"Hey, lovebirds!"

Sarah and Chuck turn only to receive what amounts to a bucket-full of water in their faces.

"Serves you right for getting distracted during this intense game," Morgan jokes.

Anna slaps him playfully.

In my head there's only you now
This world falls on me
In this world there's real and make believe
And this seems real to me

Five hours later, night's fallen and the boys have built a small bonfire. Sarah's perfectly content. Now, in one of Chuck's old Stanford sweatshirts, she's sitting on the sand in front of him, leaning against him, his arms around her waist. When she leans her head back against his shoulder, he lets out a comfortable sigh.

Like when they were watching the movie the other night, she feels like she could stay with these people forever, carve herself out a whole new life. Yeah, she'd be totally fine with shedding her old life.

She offers to roast a marshmallow for Chuck, and Anna hands her the bag.

"How do you like it?"

"Hmmm . . . some like it hot!"

She rolls her eyes, and she can see Ellie do the same across the fire.

He chuckles, "I like it brown and gooey."

She nods, and relaxes into a more comfortable position. The group, mesmerized by the flames, is quiet for the most part, having exhausted many of the usual topics earlier in the evening – video games, extreme sports, work, the imminent wedding. Ellie practically squeals in delight every time the wedding's mentioned, which Sarah finds amusing. Ellie and Devon deserve to be as happy as they are, and Sarah is sure that happiness will last.

The marshmallow finally reaches an acceptable shade of brown, and she pulls it away from the fire. Handing it to Chuck, he eats it in one bite.

"Mmmm . . . delicious!" he says through the mouthful of gooey goodness, approving with a smile. Some of the stickiness from inside the marshmallow gets on his mouth.

She laughs, and has the urge to kiss it away. But she fights it and simply tells him, "You're a mess," reaching up to wipe away the goo. He kisses her on the cheek, and she's glad it's nighttime so no one can see her blush.

"Thank you, Sarah," he says intimately in her ear.

She suddenly remembers the promise she made to herself a few nights ago – the promise to start living. She turns her face to the side and whispers, "Let's take a walk."

He nods, removing his arms from her waist. Standing, he reaches down a hand to help her up.

"Chuck?" Ellie questions, curious but wary of being over-protective.

"Oh, we're just going to take a walk."

Ellie nods, smiling at the couple.

Chuck takes Sarah's hand, guiding her toward the shore. They wade in the water, letting the waves wash over their feet. She keeps her hand in his, locking their fingers. After a few minutes, she leads him down the shoreline, away from the fire and their friends. The beach is almost deserted this time of night, and Sarah's thankful. She's not sure she could do this with a lot of witnesses.

Chuck's quiet, almost as if he understands her need to gather her thoughts. They walk leisurely in silence, and she's happy just to hold Chuck's hand and to stroll with him in the moonlight. She watches the light reflecting off the water, amazed that she has time to stop and notice it, to actually see it. On any other assignment, she'd never have time for distractions like walking on the beach or watching the moonlight.

When they reach an acceptable distance from any late beachgoers, she slows to a stop, and turns to face him, smiling.

"Hey," he says softly, returning her smile.

Closing her eyes almost involuntarily, she leans her head against his chest, allowing him to envelop her in his arms once again. They stand like that for a while, swaying ever so slightly to the music in Chuck's head.

As pleasant as this is, though, delaying her confession will only make it harder. She takes a deep breath. He notices, pulling away a bit and looking down at her. She looks straight into his eyes. Their brown color is barely discernible in the moonlight, but the love expressed in them gives her enough courage to go forward.

"Chuck, I want this with you. I want . . . a relationship." She swallows, "And I know I'm not the best at relationships, but if I'm ever going to figure them out, I want to be figuring them out with you."

She catches her breath, and he looks at her, amazement engraved on his face. Taking a step toward her, he cradles her cheek in one hand and gives her a dazzling smile. He leans forward, but stops before the expected kiss.

"Are you sure about this?" he asks, his thumb caressing her cheek tenderly.

She starts to nod, but changes her mind halfway through. "No, Chuck, I'm not sure at all. But I do know that you're pretty much the best thing to happen to me, and I can't let you pass me by."

He smiles again, and when he leans in this time, he closes the distance between them. She can feel the smile on his lips, and taste the marshmallow on his tongue.

She's always wanted to be kissed in the moonlight, with the waves washing in around her feet.

You love me but you don't know who I am
I'm torn between this life I lead and where I stand
You love me but you don't know who I am
So let me go
Just let me go...
Let me go

Sarah brushes her teeth, listening to the water run and contemplating joining Chuck in the shower. She can easily get used to waking up next to him, sharing her day with him. She smiles to herself, but almost drops her toothbrush when she hears a strangled cry come from the shower.

She spits out the toothpaste and asks, "Chuck? What happened?" She turns around to see his form flailing wildly behind the shower curtain.

"Your shampoo is evil!"

She laughs. "Why?"

"It's in my eye!" he shouts. "It's – arg!"

She pulls the curtain aside a foot or so, and he stops thrashing. Shampoo is running down the side of his face, but he quickly washes it off when she laughs again. It looks like he's finally gotten most of the shampoo out, but his left eye is red and bloodshot. The sight, far from quelling her amusement, only exacerbates it. She can't hide her grin.

"Stop laughing," he pleads, his face completely straight. "This isn't funny. My eye hurts."

"You're right," she chokes out between breaths, trying desperately to hold back her laughter, "Not funny . . .. at all."

He stares her down for about three seconds before breaking into a grin. Grabbing her around the waist, he scoops her up and into the shower. She shrieks like a little girl when the water hits her, soaking her t-shirt, well, his t-shirt, through.

"Yeah, not laughing so much now," he says playfully.

With that, she decides that Chuck Bartowski is not as innocent a guy as he always appears to be.

And no matter how hard I try
I can't escape these things inside I know
I know
When all the pieces fall apart
You will be the only one who knows
Who knows

A month later, Sarah enters Chuck and Ellie's apartment to find her boyfriend stretched out on the couch reading a gaming magazine. He greets her with a smile, and moves over to make room for her. She lies down next to him, and he slinks an arm around her shoulders, holding the magazine with the other hand.

"How was your day?" he asks, kissing her cheek.

"The usual."

He groans. "I'm sorry. Want something special for dinner? I make a mean grilled cheese sandwich."

She smiles, "Ooh, I think I'll pass. What are we having, though?"

He glances around the room for ideas. "Mmm . . . I don't know yet. I haven't decided. But Ellie and Awesome are out doing wedding things, so it's my turn to make dinner."

She glances at her watch – 4:13. "We've got a few hours. Let's just lie here for a while."

Catching the moodiness in her tone, he sets down the magazine and waits for her to explain the funk she's fallen into.

She kind of hates how patient he is.

For the past month, she and Chuck have been forging their relationship. It's been exciting, but at the same time, she almost feels as if she doesn't deserve the normalcy of it all. Each time she has a conversation about what to make for dinner, or what movie to rent, or what to get Morgan or Anna for their respective birthday, her mind wanders to that time she saved Carina in Pakistan, or the mission where she killed eight rogue members of the Serbian government, or when she was part of a team that took down a corrupt Brazilian regime in just three months.

She cares about what he has to say, really. She cares so much that their conversations sometimes make her feel more deceitful than being a spy does. She's slowly finding out everything there is to know about Chuck. But Chuck barely knows anything about the real Sarah Walker, the woman and the agent, so inextricably linked.

He's still waiting for her to speak, his intense gaze burning into her.

She turns to him, their faces centimeters apart. "Kiss me," she whispers.

He complies, but not as eagerly as she expects. His mind's still on what she's keeping from him, exactly what she's trying to get off his mind. She breaks off the kiss and settles her head against his chest, closing her eyes.

He strokes her hair gently and asks, "Is something bothering you, Sarah?"

She sighs, and responds in the negative. Even without looking at him, she can tell he doesn't quite believe her.

"Is it something with work? Because Casey was particularly unpleasant at the Buy More today."

She smiles against his chest. "No, work's fine."

"Then is it me?"

She raises her head and looks at him in alarm. "Why would you think that?"

He chuckles, "You don't exactly have a broad life here, you know. So the only two options are work and me. Sometimes both, because I kind of classify as both."

She shakes her head and leans it against his chest again. "I'd say we're doing well, wouldn't you?"

Chuck laughs and says mockingly, "Well? I'd say we're doingvery well!"

She groans.

"Seriously," he teases, "Do they teach you that drivel in training?"

She's caught off-guard by his reference to her agency training. It's an unspoken rule that they never talk about her past, especially her time as an agent. He seems to realize from her silence that he's hit a nerve, but before he can apologize, she raises her head again.

"I was just thinking . . ." she says, "what about lasagna for dinner?"

He narrows his brows, but nods, and gives her a small kiss on the lips. When he moves away, intending to start dinner, she puts a hand on his cheek and draws his face back towards hers. The kiss is as much to alleviate his doubt as it is to assuage her guilt.

You love me but you don't know who I am
I'm torn between this life I lead and where I stand
And you love me but you don't know who I am
So let me go
Just let me go

Sarah can't concentrate on her book. She's been on the same sentence the whole time that Chuck's been getting ready for bed. She wants to yell at him for taking so long, but when she checks the clock, she sees that only three minutes have passed. He emerges from the bathroom a few seconds later, yawning widely. Climbing under the covers, he's about to cuddle up to her but stops when he notices her agitation.

"What is it?" he says softly, treading lightly because of her changing moods the past few days.

She sits straight up, folding her legs Indian-style. She takes one of his hands, and fiddles with his long fingers. He gazes at her intently, and the funny thing is that she's more scared now than she's ever been – even more than she was in Pakistan, Serbia or Brazil.

"What you said, this evening . . ." she begins, her breathing suddenly shallow.

He gets an embarrassed look on his face, and he says quickly, "You know what, it was spur-of-the-moment, don't even worry about it. Just forget I said it. I'd be totally okay with that."

The corner of her mouth curves upward, and there's a pause in his rambling.

"Did you mean it?" She tries to school her voice to contain as little emotion as possible, but there's no denying that this is possibly the most important question she's ever asked.

Surprise crosses his face for a moment, and he takes another moment to respond. When he does speak, his words come out slowly. "I've only ever said that," he pauses, glances at the ceiling as if it contains some secret message only he is able to decipher, "to two women, including you." He shoots her an uncomfortable smile, and she can tell that he's as nervous as she is.

The information staggers her. Chuck is always so open with his emotions that she finds it hard to believe that he, too, holds back his inner-most feelings. She knows she should reassure him that she reciprocates his love, but she can't bring herself to admit that quite yet.

"But, Chuck," she breathes, "you don't even know me."

The words hang in air, in the ever shrinking space between them.

He looks her in the eyes. "I know . . . that your favorite color is green, that you put your duty to this country above your duty to yourself, that you prefer to show your feelings rather than talk about them, that you have the most amazing smile on the planet, that you always thought your job was the only thing you were good at, so you use it to hide what you think of as your inadequacies in dealing with people, that most of the time when you're in a bad mood I can make you laugh with my Smurf impressions, that I'm pretty much the luckiest gu-"

While he's speaking, her eyes tear up. Impulsively, she leans forward to capture his lips. Taken aback, he nonetheless reciprocates lovingly, wrapping an arm around her back and pulling her on top of him. Reluctantly, she breaks the kiss, running a hand through his dark curls.

She looks into his smiling eyes, delighted that he's exceeded her expectations so greatly. She never should have doubted him. But will he still love her when she confesses to the amount of blood on her hands? When she tells him the number of people she's killed? When she tells him that she knows all their names, knows how long they were married, knows how many kids they had?

But it's either tell him, let him judge, and let him go, or continue this deception, pretending her job hasn't made her do things she regrets.

Her face falls, and he studies her, his thumb caressing her chin.

"I need to tell you some things," she says softly.

"About what?" he asks, his voice low.

"About myself. About my life. Things you deserve to know. And then you can choose for yourself whether loving me is a good thing or not."

"Sarah," he says, and his voice is quiet but strong, his gaze just as intense. "No matter what, loving you will always be the best decision I ever made."

She kisses him softly again, but pulls away quickly, before she can lose herself in him. "I need to share this. I need you to know."

He nods, but says, "I thought I wasn't allowed to know particulars."

"Not particulars, but . . . enough general information for you to form an overall picture of my life in the agency."

She doesn't start at the beginning, her narrative wanders around a bit and backtracks, and she frequently withholds details, but he doesn't seem to mind. He listens intently, asking a question every once in a while. They talk for most of the night, lying in the sheets and watching the moonlight through the window. Confessing what she's been holding inside for years exhausts her, and she drifts off to sleep in Chuck's strong arms.

When she wakes to an empty bed, her heart plummets, thinking that her past has scared him off. She sits up groggily, shielding her eyes from the sunlight that streams in through the blinds. He walks in, though, half-dressed and carrying two mugs of coffee, and she lights up.

"Morning, sunshine," he says brightly, handing her a mug and sitting down on the bed.

She takes a sip, relishing the warmth of the liquid as it slides down her throat. She reaches a hand around his waist, and he turns toward her.

"Chuck Bartowski," she says, smiling into his kiss, "I do believe I'm in love with you."

And you love me but you don't
You love me but you don't
You love me but you don't know who I am
And you love me but you don't
You love me but you don't
You love me but you don't know me