A/N: I probably don't need to say this, but just read carefully between the italics and normal letters. i don't want to confuse any of you. As promised, this is another "light-hearted" chapter. And because you were all so sweet to me, i guess i've got some chuck/sarah too.

Chapter 14:

Sarah calls on a Wednesday afternoon to tell him she has to work late. A rarity, that.

"Right…they closed down the bank so you could attend to Steve Jobs' debit transactions." Chuck leans back in the chair of his office, staring straight at a picture of them together.

There's a laugh on the other end. "Actually, it's Donald Trump and he wants me to manage his personal accounts."

"Really?" Chuck falls forward, nearly crashing into the table. "Honey…that's wonderful—"

"No, silly," she chides and Chuck blushes at his naivety. "I have to balance some paperwork. It won't take me too long but I don't want you to wait up."

"But I want to."

He hears her sigh on the other end. "Well I don't."

"I don't mind, really."

"Well I do." Her tone is still light, but he knows as well as she does that there can only be one victor in this repartee.

"You always wait even when I tell you my meetings will run late."

He hears her fight between a sigh of exasperation and a laugh. "That's because I—" He already knows the answer before she does.

"Want to…right?" Chuck smiles. He can almost see her with her lips pressed into a pout; Sarah could be such a sore loser sometimes.

"Fine. Don't come crying to me when you starve."

Chuck laughs. "If I don't go crying to you, who will I go to?" He's tempted to bring up Carmen's name but somehow he senses Sarah would be less than amused.

"Smart man, Mr. Bartowski." She gives a groan and he thinks he hears papers fall over the edge of a desk. "And you're also proving to be a huge distraction."

"You're the one who called," he says, nearly sticking out his tongue.

"And now I'm hanging up on you." He pauses and waits to hear the click but instead she speaks again. "I love you, Chuck."

It takes him off-guard when she ends their playful banter with something so heavy. The emotion in her voice makes his heart jump, almost like the first time he heard her utter those three words, and it's moments like this that make Chuck realize that even after all this time, his wife is still full of surprises.

.

Chuck wants to surprise her with dinner so he orders take-out and shows up at the bank. The security guard recognizes him and lets him into the darkened building.

"Go ahead." The security guard gestures to the half-swing door marked with an 'employees only' sign. "Your wife is working in the back office."

The remark brings a smile to his face. His wife. He doesn't think he'll ever get tired of hearing it.

The offices and cubicles are unfamiliar territory and he's lost until he hears her voice. It's coming from the break room and it's not the only one. There's someone else speaking, a deeper voice.

Chuck doesn't know why but his hands are suddenly perspiring and he's filled with preemptive dread. Like having caterpillars before they're full grown butterflies in his gut. He holds his breath until he's at the threshold, and then braces himself as he peeks over the corner.

She's talking to someone, a man. He's tall, annoyingly handsome and twice Chuck's build. They're standing closer than what Chuck thinks is appropriate for just coworkers and with every second that passes, he thinks he sees the man lean nearer.

Chuck clears his throat and the both of them look abruptly at him.

"Chuck!" Sarah smiles and it's so wide he can't tell if it's relief, nerves, or simply excitement to see him.

Chuck holds up the brownbag. "I picked up some supper," he says, feeling suddenly awkward and inadequate. He should have worn his suit today instead of the sweater-vest. Next to this suited stranger, he feels like a choir-boy.

"Oh, you didn't have to do that," she says, but he can tell she's pleased nevertheless.

The stranger seems to take the hint and makes an excuse to take off. His gaze lingers on Sarah but she hardly spares him a second look and nods absent-mindedly when he says goodbye. He nods a brief acknowledgment in Chuck's direction, but Chuck is all too familiar with the nature of the game and without trying, can detect that he's being sized up and passed off.

When the hulk is out of the room, Chuck asks her who the competition was.

Sarah shrugs. "I don't know, I think he works in finance." Her obliviousness is startling.

"What was he saying to you?"

She shrugs again. Her brows wrinkle slightly as she tries to recall their conversation. "I don't know, something about a football game this weekend and seats?" Suddenly her eyes widen and she tilts her chin up at him. "Mr. Bartowski, are you jealous?" she asks, with the most devilish grin on her face.

Chuck blushes. "No! Don't be ridiculous."

But the more he denies, the deeper he reddens until he has no choice but to hide his face behind the take-out bag.

"I don't believe this," she admonishes, crossing her arms. Chuck swears if she didn't look so damn adorable when she gloated, he would have accused her of flirting with her coworker.

She jerks her thumb over her shoulder, gesturing to the man long gone. "Him?" She makes a face. "Really?"

Chuck sighs. "Yes. Really." He admits it completely, knowing it's not the first—nor will it be the last, time he's caught a man ogling his wife.

His sober expression wipes the smile from Sarah's face. "Chuck…" she says, her eyes darkening. "You don't honestly think I'd be attracted to him."

He shrugs. "Maybe not him. But someday…someone…there's a lot of really great guys out there…" There it was again. That feeling; like all he could offer her were dandelions when she was already surrounded by roses.

Now Sarah was really mad. "Charles Irving Bartowski," she intoned, stressing out every syllable of his name. "Listen to me very carefully." She grabs a handful of his vest and reels him in until their lips are millimeters apart. "In my eyes there is only you."

Chuck doesn't know what to say.

"Did you hear me?"

.

"Did you hear me?"

That voice. Chuck flinched and shook his head.

.

"Did you hear me?" Sarah asks.

Chuck nods obediently.

"Good." She smiles and her eyes spark with electric blue. "Repeat it."

.

"Mr. Bartowski, did you hear me? Don't make me repeat myself."

There it was again. Chuck realized what was happening but he didn't want to hear it.

.

"Repeat it."

"In my eyes there is only you," he reiterates, like a schoolboy learning his letters.

Sarah smiles and clasps his face with both her hands, anchoring it in front of her. "And don't you ever forget it."

.

"Have you forgotten, Mr. Bartowski, we had an arrangement."

One more minute, just one more minute.

.

"Say it one more time."

There is no hesitation this time. He believes it wholeheartedly.

"In my eyes there is only you." Chuck throws the brownbag against the counter as he wraps his arms around her waist. Sarah's eyes light up and she raises her chin at the unspoken challenge.

"Good," she breathes. "Now shut up and kiss me."

.

"Mr. Bartowski!"

Chuck opened his eyes and then it was all over. Like a bird shot out of the sky, he felt his body crash down against the narrow cot, back into reality.

Camille's hawk-like eyes gazed down at him. "Mr. Bartowski," she greeted, a smile spreading across her lips. "Did you sleep well? Pleasant dreams I hope."

A dream? No. It was no dream.

A memory then.

Chuck rubbed his palm over his lips. A sudden sadness washed over him as he realized it may not have been any more real than a dream. His life had been full of lies, after all.

Camille was not one for dwelling on thoughts. Satisfied that he was awake, she sauntered towards the door.

"Get dressed, Mr. Bartowski, we have a long day ahead of us."

Chuck stared blankly up at the ceiling. Somehow he had a feeling her words would prove prophetic.

_

Chuck sat in front of the computer, running his fingers across the polished keys. It was so new it still had the smell of packaging to it, that strange mix of chemicals likely responsible for burning a hole through the ozone.

The machine was state of the art; it gave him shivers to even bask in its presence…and this woman wanted him to use it, actually use it?

"I want you to build us another Intersect," Camille informed, towering over him. She refused to take a seat even though there were plenty of chairs in the room. Chuck wondered why the statuesque woman saw the need to wear stiletto heels when she was taller than everyone else in the facility. It felt redundant.

"Did you hear me, Chuck?

"What about my family? What's going to happen to them?"

Camille rolled her eyes. "We've already told you. They'll be fine."

"But Sarah knows them. Sarah knows where they work, their phone numbers, we have a spare key to their house—" Chuck's heart began to race. If anything happened to his family, to Ellie, he'd never forgive himself.

Camille placed a hand on Chuck's shoulder before he could even think of leaving his seat. Thin as she was, she could place a surprisingly large amount of force through her hand.

"We have people monitoring them at all times. Don't worry, Chuck."

But Chuck was worried. Camille reminded him of a black widow spider, the kind of woman who'd consume her mate after she was done with him. A literal maneater.

"Can I call them?"

Camille squeezed his shoulder, ever-so-gently being a subjective term. "Don't you think she'll be waiting for you to call? She'll trace it back here; she'll find us and kill us all."

Chuck gulped. "You're being a little overdramatic don't you think?"

The question caused the statuesque woman to throw her head back and laugh. It was a humorless laugh though. "Chuck, I give you my word. And the sooner you do this for us, the sooner we can stop them and go on with our lives." She paused. "You want that, don't you?"

Chuck clamped down on his tongue. She was only going to laugh again if he told her that he didn't have a life to return to. "I suppose," he said. A diplomatic way of saying no.

Camille smiled. "Good." She released him from her hold and pointed at the computer monitor. "Now, we need you to build us an Intersect."

Chuck laughed quietly, trying to shake off some of the tension in the room. "What's that?"

Camille frowned. "Something you worked on before," she said flatly.

Chuck threw his hands up in the air. "But I don't know how." What the heck was an Intersect? What was he trying to intersect?

Camille forced a smile and returned her hand to Chuck's shoulder, squeezing as a warning. "Try," she said, as if it was a magical word. As if Chuck only had to try and everything would come together.

"Camille, I'm sorry. You know I don't remember anything. If I could I would." He could tell it was not the correct answer. Camille's eyes glowered dangerously. She was like a ticking time-bomb and Chuck was playing guesswork with the wires.

"Chuck—"

"It's not his fault." Jill appeared suddenly in the room. Her feet and legs were bare and the blue fabric of her hospital gown peeked through the bottom of an oversized sweater.

"Jill!" Chuck cried, jumping to meet her at the door. "You shouldn't be up. You need to rest."

Jill smiled at the display of concern. "I wanted to see how you were doing here," she said. "How are things?" The latter part seemed redundant judging by the expression on Camille's face.

The taller brunette marched over to them, purposefully walking inbetween them. Chuck had no choice but to step away from Jill.

"See what you can do," Camille said, her words directed at Jill. "I need a break."

Chuck flushed with embarrassment. He had only been in the room for an hour and the woman already found him hopeless.

They walked back over to the computer desk. "I wish I could help," Chuck said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I just don't remember."

Jill gazed softened. She reached out to smooth a stray curl in front of his eyes but Chuck couldn't bear the reminder and caught her hand. It was Sarah's thing. In fact he grew out his hair longer than he liked for the very reason, the same reason he purposely fudged his tie every morning and left his shirt collar uneven.

Hurt reflected in Jill's eyes but Chuck hoped she would understand. It hurt him just as much.

"You shouldn't be here. You need to recover your strength."

Jill smiled. "Thank you, Chuck," she said quietly. "But I was getting restless…and I missed you."

Her intentions were not lost on him. Chuck gulped nervously and trained his eyes back on the computer screen. "I'd walk you back, Jill, but you know I don't have a card."

She raised her brows in question, kicking his shins with her bare feet. "Are you trying to get rid of me?" she asked, clutching her chest in pain.

Chuck immediately regretted his words. He rushed to her side, his hands hovering to catch her in case she should fall. "Are you alright? Do I need to call a doctor?"

There was a moment of tense silence before he heard the unmistakable sound of laughter and caught her grimacing as she tried to suppress it. His expression changed and he plopped down in his seat.

"Serves you right," he grumbled.

Jill laughed weakly. "You're too gullible, Chuck," she teased. But the joke carried stronger connotations than their innocent banter and any humor quickly evaporated from the room. "Sorry," she whispered.

Chuck turned so his back was to her. He clamped down on his tongue, unwilling to dwell on the thought.

"It's okay," he shrugged, though it was anything but. "So what is an Intersect?"

Jill sank slowly into the seat beside him. She stared at the blank monitor, and Chuck wondered what she was thinking now.

"It was a program," she finally said. "It processed information and found patterns in an incredibly effective and efficient manner." She turned to him, her eyes filled with melancholy. "You were the forefront designer. You gave the program its brain, its thought-processor."

Chuck still wasn't sure how he did it, but it was a far better explanation than Carmen had given.

"That shouldn't be too hard…" He ran his hand across the keyboard again. "What happened to the last one?"

Jill gnawed on the corner of her lips. "Computer crash," she said with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Okay…well then you should just get someone to fix it. Why do you need me?"

Jill smiled wryly. "It's not that easy. The files were encrypted into a series of images. Thousands of these images were compressed into one. The association was mapped, of course, so while we see only a simple picture or a collection of unrelated images, the computer sees the files hidden within them."

She tilted her head as she looked at him. "Does any of that make sense, Chuck?"

Surprisingly, yes. "But why do you need me to do this? I'm sure there are very qualified computer nerds, even nerdier than me, out there—"

"We've tried," she said, defeat at the tip of her tongue. "You were the primary designer. I know you don't remember, but our programmers have already tried everything they could. The data is all there but it just sits there."

Well of course it did. His eyes widened as he looked at Jill. Did she not realize what was being asked of him?

"You want me to make this come to 'life'?" he asked, feeling obliged to use airquotes in order to emphasize the absurdness of the request.

Jill's eyes brightened. It was exactly what she wanted.

"You did it once," she said. And to her, it must seem so simple. "Just try," she added, using Camille's magic word. When Chuck did not refuse, she smiled.

It was the miniscule silver lining to their dire situation, being able to remember better days. He hadn't seen a smile like that since their time at Stanford.

"Thank you," she whispered. She reached out and stroked his hair, her fingers brushing against his left temple, lingering at the pale white scar. Chuck froze as she stroked the only memory he had of his life-altering operation. "Did it hurt?"

Chuck shook his head. He smiled slowly for her, trying to infuse humor into something that felt more like a curse. "I don't remember."

Jill's face fell and she reached for his hand, covering his with hers. "I'm really sorry about all this," she said, lining up their fingers so hers would fit inbetween each web of his. "I know you feel really lost right now."

Chuck swallowed back the bitterness that built up in his throat. How could she know? How could she know what it was like to lose five years of her life, five years in which everything seemed to change? Did she know how hard it was to always rely on someone else's word for everything?

"I want to help, Chuck."

Chuck looked down at their hands together. Even when she tried, Chuck could see that her hand was too small to be atop his. It was an imperfect fit.

"You're upset, I know. It's my fault for leaving you." Jill leaned close to him. "You have to realize that you need to let go now. Everything that's happened…none of that's real."

Chuck shook his head. "That's not fair," he said. How does someone live every single moment of their life as a lie?

"Remember when I broke up with you and pretended to be with Bryce?" She shook his shoulder, forcing him to look at her. "Do you remember that?"

Chuck nodded reluctantly. Of course he remembered. He had spent the greater part of five years haunted by her betrayal.

"That felt real, didn't it?" Jill squeezed his hand, her features tainted with guilt. "I lied to you, Chuck. My superiors told me that it wasn't safe for you to be near me. I had to get rid of you somehow."

A long silence grew between them but Chuck allowed it to fester, at a loss for words of his own.

"Do you understand what I'm trying to say?" Jill asked. "I'm not as good as Sarah, okay? She even had me fooled; she fooled us all. So don't think for a second that any of it was real."

Chuck wrenched his hand free of hers and wheeled himself to the opposite side of the desk. His chest ached as the memories rushed through his head. Real memories to him but not real to the rest of the world.

"Chuck?" Jill's voice was pitched with alarm.

Chuck closed his eyes. It was only eight in the morning and he already had a headache.

"Chuck, please. You need to forget about what's happened." She squeezed his shoulder for emphasis. "Do you understand?"

Chuck stared straight ahead. He nodded ever so slightly to ease Jill's peace of mind. When he turned to gauge her reaction, she beamed back at him, her eyes as warm as molten chocolate.

He wished that was all he saw, but he couldn't shake away the image of Sarah that appeared in the back of his mind. He could see it play out before him like a movie, the way she pressed her lips together and then reluctantly allowed the smile to grow, slowly, wider and wider, until he could hear her laugh and call out his name. He saw her sparkling blue eyes, deep like an ocean, reflecting as if the sun were dancing across the surface, and the wind blow through her hair, each strand golden like canola blossoms. That was real. The most real thing he knew.

Erasing the last two years was not going to be like the previous five. But…

"I'll try," he said, closing his eyes.

after the last chapter, i had no idea so many ppl belonged to the 'i hate bryce' fanclub. i think i got more requests for bryce to get offed than jill. review please?