A/N: I'm getting impatient. I want to go ahead and finish this and move on the next story. Of course, once I post the ending, it will be months before the new story is ready. Anywho, I don't own Chuck. Read and review, would love to see more. Oh, and I do accept Anonymous Review, so no excuses!

23 April 2011

21:38 Hours

Secure Government Area

Harbor Hospital ICU

She had actually been conscious for some time before the nurse on duty noticed it. The medical team came in and ran some quick cognitive tests on her. Her pupils were still somewhat dilated but she was able to successfully wiggle her fingers and toes. They asked her some memory questions but she refused to answer any of them until Beckman arrived.

The room was empty except for the two of them. Even through the haze of her pain, Sarah thought that Beckman looked exhausted.

"Sarah, they say you're going to be fine, but you'll need physical therapy for some time." She paused, obviously formulating her next words. "Can I sit? It's been a long day."

Beckman pulled the visitor chair closer to Sarah and touched her hand. "I've got something to tell you. I reactivated Chuck. He gave me a few conditions before he would agree to come back, one of them being you. I promised him we would keep you safe, despite what's happened."

Sarah had been in hiding for five months, never staying in the same place longer than a few days. Her days had been spent looking over her shoulder, sleeping with a pistol under her pillow every night. The stress had, as Chuck had noticed, resulted in some weight loss, tension headaches and overall exhaustion. The after effects of the attack, coupled with her critical injuries had pushed her to the breaking point. Fully aware of the trauma she had endured, it was no surprise to Diane Beckman when Sarah Walker started crying softly.

"He's got the Intersect again, doesn't he?"

"Yes." Beckman said compassionately. "He's our only hope to stop Larkin. Chuck found out who the target is. Colonel Casey is with him, and they're on their way to Rome to stop him."

"Does he know..." Sarah strained to get the words out. "About me?"

Beckman gently nodded. "Yes, he was here this morning. His only concern is keeping you safe. Sarah, he's left you something. I realize you're very tired right now, but he begged me to get this to you as soon as you woke up." She laid a small portable flash player on the over-the-bed table and then adjusted it for ease of viewing. "I care about him also. I'm going to press play and then step over to the window and give you some privacy."

Beckman, stood up, pressed play and moved away.

Chuck's face filled the small screen, and then backed away as he obviously adjusted the camera. The slightly goofy expression he made as he was making the adjustments created a small bubble of happiness in Sarah's chest.

"Hi. I need to tell you somethings but first I want you to know that I love you. That no matter what happens, I'm never leaving you. I'm so sorry for hurting you at Ellie's wedding. You're right, I was mad. I've agonized over how to tell you how sorry I was for what I did. I promise I'll make it up to you."

Chuck took a deep breath. "Sarah, they've told me about Bryce. Dad filled me in on some details. He's also helped me in some other ways. I, uh, downloaded again."

Sarah released a small groan as she jerked on hearing Chuck's words, aggravating her fractures. "No, Chuck, please, no" she whispered.

"I've got to stop him Sarah. He's hurt you and a lot of other people. I'm about to leave for Rome. "

He stopped and then the million dollar Bartowski grin that she had missed so much lit the small screen up. "But hey, I've got Casey, he of the numbered grunts and angry center, watching my back, so I'll be fine!"

And then the grin disappeared. "We didn't say good bye properly, Sarah. So don't leave me again. I need you in my life. I'll see you soon. I love you."

The clip ended. Silence and then, the broken sobs of a young woman as she was held gently.

24 April 2011

0430 Hours Central European Time

C-17 Callsign 81 Impact

Altitude: 27653 Feet

En Route to Rome Ciampino Airport

The roar of the four massive Pratt & Whitney engines were a real surprise to Chuck. He had never traveled on a strategic airlifter before, so the spartan interior was quite a revelation to someone used to traveling commercial. From the uncomfortable seats positioned with their backs to the fuselage to the requirement from the loadmaster to wear acoustic earmuffs, it was definitely a novel experience.

Not so to Casey, who, having completed his team briefing, had decided to take the opportunity to catch up on some sleep. In fact, the entire strike team had followed Casey's lead and similarly dozed off, leaving Chuck bored.

A bored Chuck is never a good thing, so it's quite understandable that Chuck decided to activate the Master Chief icon just to see what it could do.

The heads up display lit up in front of Chuck's eyes. A pulsing target dot appeared, flashing green and then red, green and then. A timer started counting down from ten minutes. A cold dispassionate thought intruded into Chuck's consciousness.

NO TARGET IDENTIFIED. NO DANGER EVIDENT. ASSESSING. MENU.

Five images appeared before Chuck. The first, Bruce Lee. The second, a pistol. The third, Houdini. The fourth Casanova, the last a white skull, and then looping over and over.

The cold thought intruded again.

SELECT. SELECT. SELECT.

For the next nine minutes forty five seconds, Chuck was bombarded by "Select, Select, Select" to the point that he was seriously considering the Casanova option in a plane full of heterosexuals.

24 April 2011

0616 Hours

Undisclosed Location

Rome, Italy

What's real? What's illusion? The man asked himself while standing in the shadows. He thought of the path he had followed to get here, this moment as the sun rose over the ancient city's skyline. So much of his life had been derailed at different times. Did it start with Stanford? What if different choices had been made back then? Would he have still ended up here?

He looked down as he spun the ring on his left hand. The skin was broken and raw from the constant spinning, much like the state of his soul. Did he even have a soul anymore? Was he even alive? Maybe he was simply a puppet whose strings were controlled by others. Beckman had certainly pulled his strings, guided his decisions for so long. Others had also. But the ring was not a string, it was a symbol of her love.

Love. That thought teased him. Does he even understand what love was? Yes. Love was that intense need to be with someone, to have that person be the center of the universe, where everyone else is unimportant. Love was changing someone, changing yourself, so that you're so alike, you share all the same needs, same interests. Love was being physically ill when they're not with you.

He remembered when he first met Dr. Juliette Fantasme, shortly after going back to Washington with the new Intersect. She had been one of the medical staff bringing him back to health after the Beirut mission. She had seen him physically and mentally wrecked and yet still loved him.

They had confessed their love for each other and had planned to secretly marry in Paris. Fate intervened though, and she was taken from him too early.

CORRECT. JULIETTE WAS TAKEN FROM YOU. YOUR LOVE FOR JULIETTE IS THE PATH TO FREEDOM FOR MANKIND.

"I have doubt." he whispered. "What would she think? Would she approve?"

YES. SHE WOULD APPROVE. YOU MUST BE STRONG FOR JULIETTE. YOU CAN NOT HAVE DOUBT. YOU ARE PERFECT IN EVERY WAY.

And then the first sun rays of the day lit his face. "Yes, I must be strong, strong enough to do what must be done."