summary: Looking for a fresh start after some tough times, Sarah and her three-year-old daughter move to LA. When they find a sweet curly-haired nerd who lives next door, though, Sarah realizes they might just find more happiness than they'd ever imagined, if only her past doesn't catch up to her first. AU.

a/n: And, cue sirens… Here we are at the ominously-named Emergency. I won't spoil things too much, so ramblings and thanks are at the bottom. For now, I'll just say I hope you enjoy.

disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, hospitals, teddy bear paper, or keys. Again, no Amy Walkers were (badly) harmed in the making of this chapter.

The Emergency

It's never a reassuring thing when she gets a phone call from Amy's daycare midway through the day, while she's at work. But today, before she even picks up, something in Sarah knows this isn't the usual kind of call. This isn't just a check to see if Amy is really allowed to drink a certain type of soda she's insisting she can have, or confirmation that Sarah will be around to pick Amy up at a certain time. Something in her knows this is different, whether a spy sense or maternal instinct or a gut feeling. Just, something.
And when Jenny starts with "I think everything's fine, but..." Sarah can't stop the fear that spreads through her.

She manages to stay calm as she explains her situation to her superiors in her office, as she apologizes to her coworkers, as she heads to the elevator. Everyone looks a little worried for her, and that just makes her feel worse. She keeps it inside, though, right up until the moment she steps out into the parking lot, and freezes right by the entrance. Alone in the cold, empty space, reality sets in, and with it, the inevitable freak out. Her little girl is hurt, not badly, it seems, but still hurt, and Sarah has to go get her right now, and she needs to calm down and get it together but how can she not worry, over this, over Amy? She tries to make her feet move, tries to get to her car, but it's like she's stuck fast.

Gulping down a breath, she reaches for her phone, dials the only person she can think of.

"Sarah?"

His voice is calm, even, and her eyes slip shut as she lets out a deep breath at just the sound of him.
"Hey, um. I just wanted to talk." she says, suddenly controlled enough to move, and crossing the lot to her car.

"Is something wrong?" Chuck asks, immediately, and his being so observant is both a relief and a curse. He can always pick up on this with her, now, and she never knows what to make of that. She hasn't known since he somehow realized, after just three words, that something was wrong when Bryce had showed up, and so much in Sarah's life just changed completely. Irreversibly.

"I don't know," she admits, sighing as she tugs open her drivers side door and slips into the front seat. "I- I just got a call from the daycare, Amy was playing and she hit her head."

"Oh my god, is she okay?"
He sounds worried, and Sarah pauses before replying. Because really, what he's asked is the big question here. And she just doesn't know for sure.

"They think so, but Ames is saying she feels dizzy and sick, so I'm headed over there to pick her up. I'm gonna take her to the hospital." She rubs at her temples as the beginning of a headache starts to spread, tense, instantly upping her stress.

"God, Sarah. What can I do?" he asks, pleading, and she sighs.

"I don't know." She reaches up, worries the charm of her still-new necklace between her thumb and forefinger. She hasn't worn it much, it feels too special to her to risk wearing it out, but this morning, she'd just felt like putting it on. Right now, it's such a comfort to her she's very glad for her choice. And she can't help but think on what Chuck had told her, just the other week when he'd given it to her. That something about her calms him. It's still the same for her. "I just needed to talk to you. Before I got too worried."

Another time, maybe, she'd regret her forwardness, openness. Today she can't find the energy to even feel a little embarrassed. She knows, by now, that they need him. She needs him. She'd known it months ago, and she especially knew it when she'd missed him like a part of her when he'd been just a few states away for three days. And she's relished every moment with him since then, even if, still, it's hard to get a moment alone to talk.

He sighs, pauses.
"Are you going to Westside?"

"Yeah,"

"I'm gonna come meet you." he says, strong, decided, and she blinks.

"What?" she asks right away, before she's even really processed what he's said.

"I'm gonna come meet you." Even as he repeats it, she still blinks, stunned. He's made up his mind, just like that. It reminds her a little of when he'd suddenly decided to come over when Amy was sick. But then, she'd been crying right next to Sarah, only wanting Chuck. Now, they don't even know what Amy wants, she's far from Sarah, right now, and Chuck still wants to come anyway. How much her little girl must mean to him still gets to her and stuns her, sometimes. "I'm just at home, right now, doing nothing. If I can help, I wanna come be with you guys."

Leaning back in her seat, she shakes her head. How does he know that that's exactly what she needs, right now? She's been lucky- though Amy is frequently clumsy she hasn't hurt herself that often in her four years. But when she was two, the little girl's stubbornness and a lack of understanding about how heavy doors can be had meant she'd wrenched her shoulder so bad it had almost dislocated, and though Sarah had checked it herself and known it didn't need setting, Amy had been crying so much she'd had to take her to the emergency room anyway just in case something else was wrong. She'd been fine in the end, but it had been worrying, being there alone, watching as Amy screamed as a nurse checked her out, and having nobody else there. She's been somewhat terrified about a hospital trip like this ever since.

But now Chuck will be there. And Sarah's reminded again of just how much of a blessing he feels, in their lives.

She clears her throat, turns the key in the ignition.
"Thank you,"

"Always." She knows he means it. "I'll wait for you at the entrance, okay?"

"Okay." she manages to murmur, nodding to herself and reaching for her seatbelt. Chuck will be there. And Amy is probably fine. This will be okay, they'll be okay.

"Go get her," he says warmly, and she smiles.

"Bye, Chuck,"

When he says his own farewell, she floors the gas, and races over to the daycare.

Much to Sarah's relief, when she reaches the daycare Amy seems fine, physically. There are no gaping wounds on her head, no giant bumps yet, but she does look unusually tired and a little bit queasy, and Sarah carries her to the car, holding her close. When she buckles her into her seat, she sits the plastic bowl Jenny had offered up in the little girl's lap, just in case Amy feels sick along the way. She drives slowly to the hospital, talking to Amy all the time to keep the girl alert even if she only gets quiet murmured answers in reply, and in the end she pulls up into a space about a half hour after talking to Chuck. And, when she looks around, she finds their neighbor standing by the hospital's entrance already, looking a little anxious, hands in his pockets. He really is here, just like he'd said he would be. She hadn't doubted him at all, but it still feels such a relief to even see him. She parks as near to him as she can get, slipping out of the car and heading to Amy's side.

"You good to walk, baby, or do you want me to carry you?"

Amy rubs at her eyes, lifts up her arms.
"Carry,"

"Okay, bug," She sighs just a little, unbuckling the four-year-old and scooping her up, cradling her head. "You still feeling dizzy?"

"Yeah," Amy nods slowly, and Sarah cuddles her closer.

"Okay, well we'll get the doctor to look at you and see what we can do to get you feeling better, yeah?" At another nod, Sarah locks the car, and heads across the parking lot to the entrance of the hospital. Chuck sends her a questioning glance when she's near enough, and she strokes Amy's hair, touch feather-light. "Chuck's here, Ames,"

The little girl turns her head at that, evidently to see him, but she doesn't squeal or giggle or say hi like she most always does with him, and that somehow worries Sarah the most. She crosses the road and walks up to him, and he smiles just a little.

"How's she doing?"

"No better, I think," Sarah murmurs, and Chuck sighs, slips his arm around her in a one-armed hug, pressing his lips to her temple. She takes a deep breath, wills herself to relax for Amy's sake. With Chuck by her side, it's a hell of a lot easier than it could be. He truly does calm her. And right now, his arm around her and his warmth right next to her, she finds herself calming, just like that.

He pulls back, leans down a little to tuck a curl behind Amy's ear.
"Hey, bug. You not feeling so good?"

She shakes her head, cuddling into Sarah, and Chuck smiles sadly. Though she wishes she could stay here, quiet, with him, Sarah knows the sooner she can get Amy seen to the sooner she can start feeling better, hopefully, and she herself can stop worrying, so she turns toward the doors, Chuck moving with her. They head into the hospital, noises clamoring all around, and Amy just cuddles into her mother more at the busy scene. Just as Sarah tenses, though, Chuck's hand slips into her own, anchoring, squeezing before letting go, and she nods as she walks up to the front desk. She relays what happened, and the little girl's symptoms, and the receptionist nods, takes it all in before telling them where to go. Eventually, they're shown to a curtained-off room, a little bed with teddy bear printed paper sat upon it taking up the middle of the space, along with a small desk, chair tucked under it. Sarah tries to set Amy down on the bed, but the four-year-old doesn't want to let go, stays clinging to her, and Sarah sighs, eventually just perching on the end of the cot and holding Amy as they wait for the nurse to come in.

"Can I... Can I do anything?" Chuck asks after a while, and Sarah turns to him, sees him watching them both in concern. Before she can say anything, though, a nurse comes in in purple scrubs, smiling at both of them kindly, followed by an assistant.

"Hi," the assistant says. "I'm just here to ask a couple questions,"

"And I am here, to check on this one," The nurse smiles down at Amy. "Before the doctor arrives."

Immediately, Amy clings to her mother even more, cowering a little, and Sarah blinks, looks between the two members of staff.
"Um, Chuck, would you mind...?" she asks, and immediately, Chuck steps forward, dealing with the assistant. And while he gives their details, gets their insurance information from Sarah's purse, repeats Amy's name and what happened to her, Sarah stays holding her little girl in her lap while the nurse takes her vitals and notes them down. Though Sarah chimes in occasionally where Chuck doesn't know things, mostly, he's right on point. Yet again, an extra pair of hands is helpful in ways she'd never imagined, here.

Once the staff are done, it's a long twenty minute wait before a woman heads through the curtains of their room, clipboard in hand. She smiles kindly, her whole demeanor not too upbeat but still pleasant.

"Hi, I'm Doctor Andrews. I understand this little lady isn't feeling too good?" Sarah nods, and Chuck sends a tight smile of agreement, too. "Are you the parents?"

She looks at them expectantly, and Sarah suddenly realizes that, perhaps, Chuck isn't supposed to be here. It's not a big emergency, no, but she's not sure about the policy or rules here, and she knows in some places, only family is allowed. It had never come up when the nurse and assistant had been here, perhaps they'd just assumed... She swallows.

"Yes," she says, before Chuck can say anything, even as she immediately feels regretful at just throwing him into this. She just needs him, though, at this moment, and she knows if he isn't seen as a parent, or her spouse, or something that actually ties him to Amy other than just their friend which is technically all he is, he might not be allowed to be in here with them, and she can't really bear that idea right now.

He doesn't protest, doesn't splutter by her side, doesn't ask her what the hell she's doing. She daren't look at him to see the expression on his face, but he just stays quiet. She wonders if that's telling.

Apparently spying nothing wrong with them, the doctor nods and smiles again, looking down at the chart in her hands and nodding.
"Alright, would you mind just sitting her down and I can take a look at her? Maybe without her cuddling into you, Mom?"

Since Sarah had pretty much expected this, she stands, and goes to sit Amy down on the bed by herself. But just as before, the little girl clings to her, and she sighs sadly.

"C'mon, Ames, you gotta let go and let the doctor check your head, okay?"

Amy shakes her head, clutches closer.
"Don't wanna,"

"It'll help you feel better, bug," Chuck says, sounding pained, and Amy looks up, questioning. "She just needs to see what's wrong so she can help,"

Relenting, probably at the fact that both her grown-ups are telling her to do the same thing, Amy lets go, sitting on the bed, and Sarah strokes her back reassuringly with one hand. The other finds Chuck's, wordlessly, reassuringly. The doctor looks at them both and smiles, before sitting on the chair and wheeling herself in front of Amy, staying on her level.

"Hi, Amy, I'm Doctor Andrews. You hit your head?"

Amy nods, and Sarah watches as she complies with a few exercises, following the doctor's finger and checking her vision, saying if her head hurts, testing her reflexes and memory and speech. The whole time, Chuck's hand is in Sarah's, and she clutches it tight as she just watches her little girl, silently praying she'll be okay.

Eventually, the doctor sits back, sends them a reassuring smile.
"She's fine, she's got no signs of a concussion or anything else. The dizziness is probably just from her head itself hurting, she's getting a little bit of a bruise back there. But she's good to go home."

Sarah breathes a sigh of relief, sags against Chuck.
"Thank god,"

The doctor smiles again.
"It's normal to be concerned about these things, especially with head trauma, you did the right thing to bring her in just in case." She turns to Amy, grins a little more. "Your Mommy and Daddy were worried about you, but you're gonna be fine, okay, Amy?"

The little girl nods, not even picking up on the doctor's words as anything unusual or notable, even as Sarah feels Chuck instantly tense by her side, his hand tightening around hers. He still doesn't say anything, though, doesn't correct the doctor yet again, and Sarah wonders once more just what that means. No matter what, it seems important. Significant. That he's okay to just go along with this ruse.

She clears her throat.
"If she's still feeling sick or hurt, what should I do?"

"Children's Tylenol and plenty of rest, the usual. It'll just take a little while for the headache to go but other than that," Doctor Andrews shrugs. "It's a waiting game."

Sarah nods, reaching out to Amy. The little girl instantly lifts her arms, wanting held again, and Sarah scoops her up, cradling her, stroking down her hair- being careful to avoid the bump on her head- and kissing her cheek.
"Thank you," Sarah says, nodding to the doctor, and the woman smiles.

Chuck reaches out a hand, and the doctor shakes it.
"Yeah, thank you,"

"Not a problem." As she pulls back, though, Doctor Andrews frowns. "I'm sorry, I just realized, do I know you?"

He pauses, shifts on his feet, just minutely, but Sarah still sees it, still sees his slight unease.
"Um, maybe? My sister's a neurologist, she works here,"

Something clicks on the doctor's features.
"Doctor Bartowski?"

"That's her," He nods, sounding a little awkward, and Sarah holds back a wince. It hadn't really crossed her mind until now that this is the same hospital Ellie and Devon both work at, and that Chuck may well have been here many times, or any number of doctors here might know his sister and Awesome, at least. She knows it's because she'd been so worried about Amy, of course, but this is still pretty awkward.

"Oh, you're... Chuck, right? Yeah, your sister's talked about you a little, I can see the resemblance," She chuckles softly, and Chuck nods, smiles politely like he wants to end this conversation. Of course, Sarah thinks, Chuck's polite smile is still pretty warm and kind, unlike many people's. It's a very Chuck thing. He steps in to Sarah's side, a hand on her back.

"We good to go?" he asks, looking at her, and she's sure he's asking before this doctor mentions the resemblance between Chuck and Amy, or says that Ellie's never mentioned having a niece before, or something else jolting and strange like that to make today even more odd than it already is for them all. She turns to him, nods, and with another round of thanks they leave the doctor.

They head back through the hospital halls, and Amy starts to doze in Sarah's arms, and she thinks they've maybe just managed to get out of this strange situation sort of unscathed, even with the doctor's comment and Sarah's lie. But, as they pass the elevators, a pair of doors slide open, and confused noise suddenly sounds out.

"Chuck? Sarah?" A voice asks, and the three of them turn as one to see Ellie walking out of the elevator behind them, dressed in her scrubs. Her hair's tied up, clothes rumpled, like she's been working for a while. And she looks very confused to see them. "What are you guys doing here?"

Chuck steps closer to them, smooths down Amy's hair, gently still, clearly aware of the bruise still blooming.
"Ames hit her head, didn't you bug?

The little girl nods, but Ellie frowns, and initially Sarah thinks it's because the doctor is wondering quite why that means her brother is here; he has no obligation to them, after all, and Amy hitting her head doesn't automatically equal Chuck's being here with them. Or at least, it probably doesn't to Ellie. To Sarah, though, it makes sense, now. When Ellie's expression turns to concern, however, Sarah realizes the other woman is actually just worried.

"Is she okay? Did you get her checked out?"

"We did, the doctor said she's fine," Sarah says, shifting Amy up in her arms. "She's just got a headache and a bruise, right baby?" Amy nods against Sarah's shoulder, making a murmur of agreement.

"Who did you see?" Ellie asks, walking right up to them, and Sarah shifts Amy round so Ellie can check out the lump on the little girl's head. Easily trusting her favorite doctor, Amy stays still patiently.

"Uh, Doctor Andrews?" Chuck says, clearing his throat a little, sounding like he's still awkward over being recognized by the woman.

Ellie looks up at him with a confused expression, but nods.
"I know her. Not too well, but she's nice." That's a relief to Sarah, frankly. If the colleagues aren't close then maybe they're not the type to chat and catch up. Maybe Doctor Andrews won't ask Ellie about her brother's sudden child. Now, the brunette looks down at Amy, a sympathetic expression on her features. "That's quite a bump, Amy. Does it still hurt?"

Amy nods a little.
"'S better,"

Ellie nods too, smiling a little, then looks to Sarah.
"If it still hurts for her tomorrow, just come to me, I'll check it again, okay?" Her tone is insistent, leaving no room for argument, but in a warm, helpful way, and Sarah smiles.

"Thank you, Ellie,"

"Of course." she says with a kind, kind smile, like it's completely obvious. Like she wouldn't even imagine not offering such a thing. She reaches out, rests a hand on Sarah's arm briefly, comforting. "We're practically family,"

It's strange just how much Sarah agrees with that. Nodding again, she cuddles Amy closer.

"We should probably get home, get Ames some medicine," Chuck murmurs, and Sarah nods, smiling again at Ellie.

The doctor nods.
"See you guys later," She grins, waving at Amy, who manages a little wave in reply, and they leave, Chuck's hand guiding and strengthening on Sarah's back until they reach her car.

"You just gonna go home?" he asks, once she's settled Amy into her booster seat, closed the door, the plastic bowl still on her lap just in case, although the four-year-old does seem less queasy now.

Looking up at Chuck, Sarah nods, takes a deep breath like that'll do much to ease the worry still sitting in her bones.
"Yeah, I took the day off work as an emergency when the daycare called me, I don't have to head back. I'd rather stay home so I can keep an eye on her anyway," He nods, slips his hands into his pockets, and she tilts her head. "You said you had the day off too?"

"Yeah, I do," he murmurs, and she smiles a little.

"Come over?"
Yet again today, she's not embarrassed by her bluntness, not even the slightest bit. He's been such a rock today, by her side, and she just wants him to stay. She always wants him to stay, now.

He nods slowly, a hand finding hers, fingers tangling before he squeezes them reassuringly.

"Of course," Once more, and also much like his sister just a few minutes ago, he makes it sound like the most obvious thing in the world to him. Like he couldn't imagine doing anything else.

And that just makes something tug within Sarah, yearning, warm, grateful. Even with the awkwardness of today, Chuck sort of pretending he's Amy's dad, even with the potential of his sister finding that fact out and whatever that could bring, even with Sarah just leaving him in that situation, he still wants to be with her, to stay by her side.
She squeezes his hand tight in return, then lets go, murmuring a quick farewell before slipping into the drivers seat, and heading home.

When he knocks on the door, she's sitting on the couch, Amy already asleep with her head in her lap though they only got home fifteen minutes ago. Sarah had barely had time to get the little girl's shoes and coat off and get a little medicine down her before she'd immediately drifted off to sleep, right in her mother's arms.

"Who is it?" Sarah calls, though she knows it's Chuck, from his knock and also just a sense, now. She keeps her voice low, and just hopes it travels to him.

"It's me," Chuck says, quiet too, and Sarah smiles.

"It's open," She'd indeed left the door unlatched, figuring this situation might happen. A risk, true, but a necessary one. Being careful about who's at the door, and keeping it constantly locked, might be something she usually begrudgingly sticks to with the threat over their heads, but she wasn't going to disturb her sick little girl just for the risk of an asshole escaped criminal. And so she'd left the door open. Chuck comes in a moment later, smiling softly and closing the door behind him, and a sudden thought comes to her. She speaks before he can sit down. "Hey, go to the kitchen? The drawer underneath the microwave, the compartment in the back."

Frowning, somehow with a little smirk, he heads to the kitchen diligently, and comes back, object in hand. He raises it, an eyebrow too, one of those indecipherable looks in his eyes.
"A key?" he asks with a faint smile.

"It's yours," She shrugs, smiling a little. "For here. I've been meaning to give you it for a while, but I keep forgetting,"
That, and she knew that just presenting it to him would be a big deal, somehow. These sorts of moments always are, giving someone access to your home, your life, handing them the key to enter all that. That implies a trust that, she knows, she and Chuck sometimes ignore they have. But they do have it, it's there for them, she trusts him implicitly. Giving him the key this way, though, is easier, less awkward and significant-feeling. Even if it very much is significant. This is her letting him into her home, whenever he wants, theoretically. He's almost a part of this home anyway, now.

He smiles softly, wider, strange look upon his face, but wordlessly sits down next to her, tucking the key into his pocket. He rests an arm behind her on the couch, other hand gently, tenderly, shifting the curls on Amy's head.
"Did she crash?"

"Yeah. I'm hoping she'll sleep off the headache," He hums a little at that, and she looks at him, shakes her head. "Thank you, for being there today. I really needed you there."

"Always," he says again, but he leans in. "I really mean that, Sarah. Any time you need me, I'll be there,"
Oh, she knows.

She licks her lips, looks back at Amy, avoiding Chuck's gaze to try and keep the weight off this conversation. It's there anyway. Much like her trust for him, in him, the weight in their relationship is always there. Every time, every time they talk, every moment they're together, she can feel how important this is, how significant, the two of them, the three of them. But it's especially there right now, and today's events are certainly the cause for that.

"Sometimes I don't know what we did to deserve you," she murmurs, leaning into him, but he just laughs softly.

"I wonder the same thing, but about you guys, and me." She looks back at him, frowns, wonders why he's thinking that. She thinks it, sure, but he's basically been a gift within their lives, warm light and affection where she'd felt, for so long, that that didn't exist, anymore. An extra pair of hands, a hand to hold, as she'd thought before, but so much more than that too. She doesn't deserve him, she knows that. Her sins and her past never should have led such a good, whole person to be with her, to feel whatever it is she knows Chuck feels for her. But Amy deserves him, Sarah knows that, too, for certain. Her sweet, loving little girl who'd latched onto this brilliant man within seconds, within hours. And he's so good with her. She can't help but wonder still why he feels he doesn't deserve them, what he thinks he's done to not deserve them. After eyeing her for a beat—yet again, she wonders if he can see where her head's at, just from her eyes-, he shrugs, keeps going, but looking now like he's trying to work out how to phrase things. "Think about it. I'm just- I'm a nerd, who got kicked out of college, and, and works in a Buy More, and somehow I got lucky enough to end up with you guys in my life,"

No, she can't help but think—she's the lucky one, to have found him. And Chuck deserves someone far better, someone who isn't keeping things from him every day, someone who isn't keeping away, even. Someone to actually be with him, truly care for him the way Sarah only dreams of, sometimes. But she doesn't want to argue that with him, not right now, not after everything she's dragged him through today. And not after everything he'd willingly gone through today, too. A lot of that, being there at all, staying with her, not protesting to the doctor, those were his choices. Sighing instead, the heaviness of the day a little overwhelming on her back, she rests her head on his shoulder, feels his arm behind her automatically encircle her, hold her. She swallows, knowing she has to bring up today's events, even if usually they just conveniently ignore what's happened each time they meet. This time, though, it's too much to just let go of.

"I'm sorry I just threw all that on you, today. With, with the doctor. When she asked…" He doesn't say anything, and she sighs, shifting against him. "I just… I needed you there, but I should've asked you first and checked you were okay. Just making you deal with it on the spot wasn't fair to you,"

"I didn't mind," he murmurs, and she sighs once more. Of course he didn't—or of course he's trying to spare her feelings and he's at least saying he didn't mind.

"I know, but… I should have thought about what it might have felt like, to you. I shouldn't have just been thinking about myself, and making the decision for you."

"Sarah," he breathes, squeezing her waist and nuzzling her hair just a bit. "I wanted to be there. For you, and for Ames. If they'd kicked me out, I don't really know what I would've done. If you hadn't made that decision, I might've just done it anyway. Don't worry about it."

She swallows, shakes her head.
"You know it was right that you were there, right? What the doctor said to Amy… you know that's what you are to her. You know you should have been there."

He sighs against her, frame a little shaky, and she feels his head rest against her own. He doesn't say anything, and she doesn't blame him. She has no idea what she even wants him to say.

Before they can do much more, Amy stirs, stretching out, and Sarah knows they have their hands full once more. And so she tickles her daughter's cheek, leans back against Chuck, and lets herself focus on this, here and now. Anything else can wait for tomorrow.

a/n 2: Okay, a secondary disclaimer: I've never been to an emergency room not in the UK, and haven't been to one here since I was four years old myself. So, a billion thanks to the lovely David Carner for looking through that hospital scene for me and letting me know where to take it. And letting me ramble a ton about my eternal confusion over healthcare. Without him, that part would've been pretty different, and much more inaccurate, I think, so thank him for that. You're a star, pal!
Also, for those curious, we're getting into the home straight of things, here, even if it might not feel like it yet. There's still a lot of questions and answers and events to come, but as you may note, these three are in deeper than they've ever been and I assure you that soon, pretty soon, this is all coming to a head. Up next, Chapter 22, 'The Birthday', and since we all know Chuck and Amy's, there's only one person's it can be… See y'all then, and if you liked this chapter, please review!

-Kiera :)