Collide Chapter 36: Gypsy, a chuck fanfic

Song: "Gypsy," by Shakira. (Because really, who doesn't love a good Shakira song? :P)

A/N: Well, I've been working on this a while. I'm just sorry it took me so long to finish. Consider this my one week (six days?) until the season three premiere present? :D

You know, I was super excited because I thought this chapter was going to be normal-sized, and then . . . well, it wasn't, lol. Hope you enjoy it!

I hope to get back to this story a bit more, but I do want to finish up the final chapters of my "Merlin" fic and S&S before I do.

Kindly beta-ed by BillAtWork. Special props to him for his suggestions, because he's always got a great handle on Chuck as a character, while I'm always like, "But Sarah's so COOL!" Lol, he's requested 'Executive Producer' billing, and I've granted it. :P

"Morning, beautiful."

Sarah laughs softly as she wraps an arm around Chuck's waist. Her nose buried in his shoulder, she inhales deeply. He smells so good, so comfortable, and she loves just breathing him in.

"Good morning," she replies.

He turns his head to greet her with a smile and a kiss. "Want some breakfast? Ellie made omelets."

Sliding into the seat at the counter beside him, Sarah nods. "Sure. Is she gone already?"

"Yeah," Chuck nods as he gets her a plate and pours some orange juice. "She and Devon had early shifts."

"Thank you," she replies when he slides the plate in front of her, leaning over for another kiss.

He leans back in his chair and takes a gulp of juice. As she takes a bite of the omelet, she throws a glance at him and notices the worried gleam in his eye, the slight downturn of his mouth.

Bumping his shoulder, she asks, "What's up?"

"What do you mean?"

"You look nervous. Do you have a big presentation today?"

She's fairly certain work isn't what's bothering him though, because she would have remembered if he had told her about any important meetings coming up.

Clearing his throat, Chuck slides an arm around her shoulders. "I was thinking . . ."

"Uh-oh," she teases in an effort to lighten his mood.

He sticks his tongue out playfully at her, laughs, and continues, "As I was saying, there's a game release party on Friday night, and I'd really love it if you came with me this time."

Sarah looks down at her plate and takes another bite. "I don't know, Chuck. You know I don't like parties."

"Come on," he pleads quietly. "Ellie and Devon are coming. And Bryce and Morgan and Anna are all going to be there." He leans in to rest his forehead against her temple. "We can sneak in the back, avoid the red carpet stuff, pretend it's just one of Ellie's get-togethers, except on a massive scale."

She lets out a laugh, amazed that he can always make her smile no matter what her mood. And, looking into those gorgeous eyes, how can she deny him anything?

"I'll think about it," she smiles, and that seems to be enough for him.

He breathes a sigh of relief, but his brow furrows again and he says, "Speaking of Ellie's get-togethers . . ."

She lifts an eyebrow at him, amused at the nervous tremor in his voice. What else could he ask that could be worse than spending an entire evening in a room full of people with false smiles and fake emotions?

"She was thinking about having a little dinner next week," he explains. "You know – Morgan, Anna, Bryce, the usual."

Smiling, she slides her hand to his neck. "Chuck, just ask."

He takes a deep breath. "I thought we could invite your father."

Sarah turns away from him and gulps down her orange juice. Her heart rate increases as she swallows down the guilt eating at her. "I don't think that's such a good idea," she says quietly.

"Sarah, come on," he pleads, but this is a tired conversation, one they've had every week for months now. "We've been dating for seven months. Don't you think I should meet him?"

Sighing, Sarah pokes at her eggs. There's so much he doesn't know, but how can she explain it all to him? He's so trusting, so open; and she doesn't deserve what he's given her.

"He's just, he's kind of a handful," she explains uneasily. "I'm just not sure I want to deal with that yet, that's all."

Frowning, Chuck gets up and walks over to the counter to pour himself some coffee. "Of course," he says. "There's lots of time for us to get to know each other." But there's an underlying current of displeasure in his voice.

She watches him for a moment, notices the tension in his shoulders. Sighing quietly, she walks over to him and places her hands on his chest. "Look at you. You're not even dressed for work," she murmurs before giving him a soft kiss and letting her fingertips graze over his jaw. She smiles. "Come on. Let's go pick you out something to wear today."

Broke my heart
Down the road
Spend the weekend
Sewing the pieces back on

"I need to talk to you," Sarah announces as she walks through the front door, through the kitchen, and into the living room in search of her father.

She finds him lounging in his favorite armchair reading the morning newspaper. He looks up as she walks in. "Hello, darlin'," he smiles. "I wasn't expecting you."

She collapses onto the couch and repeats, "We need to talk."

Folding the paper meticulously, Jack sighs and scrutinizes his daughter. "What's a-matter? The boyfriend not as malleable as we expected?"

Sarah frowns, sinks further into the cushions, and covers her eyes with her hands. She feels like she's wading through quicksand, and every move just makes her sink deeper. "I can't go through with this," she tells him softly.

"What do you mean?" he asks, sitting up. "Sarah, if you bail now, the job is lost. We lose the prize."

Dropping her hands to look at him, she purses her lips. "When's it going to stop, Dad? When are we ever just going to stop and be a real family?"

He frowns. "I know you can do this, Sarah. You just gotta hold on a bit longer, that's all."

Sarah jumps up off the couch and begins to pace, her fists clenched at her sides. "I need advice from my father right now, not my partner."

Jack stares at his daughter, the cogs turning inside his head. She's not a talker, never has been, and he's learned to hear what she leaves unsaid.

"So you're just going to run away?" he asks quietly, shaking his head in displeasure. "What have I taught you?"

Turning to face him, she answers, "'Don't trust anyone but yourself.'"

Jack chuckles softly. "What else?"

Sarah swallows, searching back in her memories for the advice he's referring to. Finally, she says, "'Love is rare. If you're lucky enough to find it, hang on to it. Hang on like hell.'"

Smiling disbelievingly, he asks, "You don't forget a word I say, do you, darlin'?" When Sarah shakes her head, he continues, "Then don't have selective hearing. It doesn't suit you."

She sinks back onto the couch, arms hugging her torso. "I don't know what to do, Dad," she confesses quietly.

"I do."

"You do?"

Jack clears his throat and grins at her. "Invite him to dinner." She shoots him an incredulous look, and he explains, "I think it's about time I met the man my daughter's in love with."

Crayons and dolls pass me by
Walking gets too boring
When you learn how to fly

Sarah lets out a breath in an attempt to calm herself. Her hand is shaking so badly that she can't even apply her mascara. Frustrated, she tosses the makeup tube back onto the counter and leans forward to stare into the mirror.

She frowns, disliking the reflection staring back at her.

He's perfect, and he deserves so much more than she can ever give. How can she even endeavor to deserve the love of a man of such goodness?

"Everything okay?"

She turns on her heel to find the man in question standing in the doorway of the bathroom, his hands in his pockets, a crooked smile on his face. Standing before him, arms at her sides, she wants more than anything to lay herself open, to confess her sins and clean her slate.

But instead, all that comes out is, "Of course. Fine."

Chuck purses his lips, clearly not convinced. He steps forward and rests his hands on her hips. "Are you sure? You look nervous."

Sliding her hands to his chest, she tries for a playful smile. "Well, it's not every day my boyfriend and my father meet."

"No," he chuckles, "but for what it's worth, I'm really glad I'm going to meet him."

"I know you are."

When she averts her eyes, he furrows his brow and presses, "Are you sure that's all it is, sweetie?"

The endearment sends a pang through her heart. Perhaps her father has no qualms about never telling Chuck the truth, but is that not just another con? If she's going to have his love, she wants to earn his complete trust as well, and that means not keeping things from him.

But where to start?

"Chuck . . ." she begins softly, "there are things you have to know. I'm not who . . . all my life . . ." She trails off and shakes her head, searching for the right words.

Chuck snakes his arms around her waist, holds her close to him, and says, "Hey, come here. It's okay, Sarah."

Sarah pulls back to look at him. "You don't even know what I'm going to say."

"No, I don't," he replies. "But you're trembling, and I'm not going to make you tell me something if it's got you this upset." Running his thumb over her chin, he smiles gently and says, "Whatever it is, Sarah, it's okay."

"No, it's not, Chuck. You need to know. My father, he . . ." Once again, she can't seem to say what she wants to say.

"What?" he asks quietly. "Is he going to tell me mortifying stories about your high school years?"

It's meant to be a lighthearted joke, but Sarah can't bring herself to respond with even a soft chuckle.

"Hey, hey, hey," he says, leaning against the counter and pulling her towards him. "I pushed you into this, didn't I?" he asks, swallowing nervously.

"No," she assures him, shaking her head, "of course not. My dad really wants to meet you, too."

He takes a deep breath. "Maybe we can take a rain check, though. That way you can calm down, and we can invite your father to Ellie's dinner next week. That way it's not just the three of us. Maybe that'll be better, huh?"

"I appreciate the thought, Chuck, but I really think we should do this."

"Why?" he asks as he reaches up to caress her cheek. "You were shaking, Sarah."

"Just nerves," she dismisses before threading her fingers through his curls and pulling him in for a kiss. "Because I care about you, and you deserve to know how much."

"Okay," he smiles, "but you let me know the minute you want to get out of there."

"What," she asks with a laugh, "you mean like, we're going to have a safe word?"

"If you want to," he chuckles.

"Hmm . . . a safe word to help my boyfriend escape from my father . . ."

"Hey, it's not for me!"

"Fine," she laughs, leaning her forehead against his. "Any suggestions for the word?"

Chuck lifts his eyebrows in thought before dissolving into laughter. "Pineapple?"

Not the homecoming kind
Take the top off
And who knows what you might find

Taking a deep breath, Sarah leans her hands on the bathroom countertop and looks into the mirror.

Everything about this scenario feels suspicious somehow. The restaurant is too fancy, the food too good. And her father is too charming.

She's never had a proper boyfriend before, and this relationship is so messed that she's not even sure she can call Chuck her boyfriend yet, but her father's always been overprotective. He's not the kind of man to welcome his daughter's significant other with a friendly smile and a hospitable handshake. No, he's the kind of man who grills the boyfriend while cleaning his gun as a show of intimidation.

Suddenly, Sarah realizes what's actually going on. She rolls her eyes and curses her father. Like a lion stalking his prey, he's luring Chuck into a false sense of security. And, like a fool, she's let him. Her trip to the restroom has only allowed him to spring the trap.

At this realization, Sarah takes off, walking through the restaurant and back to their table as fast as propriety will allow. Plastering a smile onto her face, she slides into the seat next to Chuck and grabs his hand, moist with nerves, with a possessiveness she hadn't realized she had.

Jack, sitting across the table, doesn't pause in the conversation as she returns. With a piercing look, he says, "You're twenty-eight. You still live with your sister. So far it doesn't look too good, Charlie. What exactly can you offer my daughter?"

Chuck swallows nervously, his leg shaking uncontrollably, and Sarah gives his hand a squeeze.

Turning to her father, she frowns and warns, "Dad. Stop it."

"It's a legitimate question, baby girl," he argues.

Chuck inclines his head toward her and murmurs, "It's okay, Sarah." She looks up at him incredulously and he reassures her, "Really." Turning to Jack, he says, "I'm not sure if you're familiar with Aces Games, but that's my company. I own it. We've only been off the ground for a few years now, but so far we've been successful, successful enough that I can easily support Sarah. The reason I live with my sister is that both of our parents are gone, and she's been the only constant in my life since I was thirteen. I don't have to live with her. I certainly make enough to buy my own house, but I don't want just a house. I want a home." Finally taking a breath, Chuck looks over at his girlfriend and smiles. "And I'm hoping that I can build one with Sarah."

An unfamiliar combination of pride and love builds up in Sarah, and she leans forward to brush her lips over his. She never should have doubted him. He's amazing, even when faced with the terrifying prospect of explaining their relationship to her father. Feeling unbelievably lucky, she pulls him closer, and Chuck smiles into her kiss.

Jack clears his throat and raises an eyebrow. "Okay," he says challengingly, "so you can support her financially. But this business, it seems like it's going to make you quite the wonder in the video game world. So how do I know that you'll be faithful to her, that you won't get tired of her once your company takes off and you're being showered with attention from other women?"

Sarah gazes at him pointedly. "Dad, Chuck's being modest. His company is taking off. They've released four games in the past year alone, and they've been named Time Magazine's number one company to watch." The corners of her mouth turning upward, she flicks a glance at Chuck. "If he's not tired of me by now . . ."

Chuck laughs softly. "With all due respect, sir," he begins, "I love your daughter very much. I know we've only been together for seven months, but she's my life, and I would never do anything to jeopardize that." He swallows and straightens his shoulders, waiting for Jack's judgment.

Surprisingly, Jack smiles. "All right then, kid. That's what I needed to hear."

Won't confess all my sins
You can bet I'll try it
But I can't always win

The night air is cool, and Sarah leans into Chuck. He slides an arm around her shoulders as they meander down the sidewalk.

"Well," he says, "I don't think that went too badly."

"No," she agrees, smiling softly, "it didn't. I must say, Mr. Bartowski, there are very few people who can win over my father." She tilts her chin to look up at him. "And I'm very glad you are one of those people."

Beaming, Chuck leans down to press a kiss to her forehead. "Me, too. Although I have to admit that I'm kind of surprised I was able to get through to him."

"Why's that?"

Chuck rolls his eyes. "Didn't you notice how terrified I was?"

"I did notice that your hand was a little moist," she chuckles. "But thank you."

"Thanks for introducing us. I know you didn't want us to meet, and now I'm pretty sure I know why," he laughs.

"My father and I aren't very close," she explains. "And, well, let's just say he won't be expecting another invitation anytime soon."

"He's okay with that?"

Sarah nods. "It's been just the two of us for so long, and neither of us are very effusive." She inhales sharply, suddenly needing to change the subject. "Hey," she says, "why don't we get away?"

"You want to go somewhere this weekend?"

"Not this weekend. Now. Let's just take off in my Porsche and drive somewhere."

Chuck stops walking and peers at her curiously. "Sarah, it's Tuesday night. I've still got three days of work this week plus that game release on Friday."

Sliding her arms around his waist, she regards him earnestly. "Friday is three days away. We can be back in time for the party."

"I don't know, Sarah . . ."

"What's the problem, Chuck?"

"I can't just pick up and take off. I'm the boss and –"

"Exactly! You're the boss. You can do whatever you want."

He shakes his head. "So why right now? I'd love to take a trip with you, Sarah, but why can't it wait until the weekend?"

Sarah sighs, turns away, and continues walking, pulling him by the hand. "I don't know. Sometimes I just need to get away for a few days."

He tugs her hand, stopping her and spinning her around to face him. "You need to get away from your father, from life?" He pauses before asking, "Or you need to get away from me?"

"Chuck," she murmurs, reaching up a hand to his face. "If I'm taking you with me, why would I need to get away from you? I just . . . feel confined sometimes, you know?"

Frowning, he pulls her closer. "Confined by us?"

"You're hung up on this, aren't you?" she asks with a shake of her head. "But it has nothing to do with you, Chuck. Nothing."

"Then what is it?"

It's me, she wants to say. You're perfect, and I'm . . . flawed.

Instead, Sarah leans up to kiss him. Feeling the familiar flutter of her heart as their lips touch, she smiles. "Listen to me," she tells him softly but forcefully, "I've never met anyone like you, Charles Irving Bartowski, and no one's ever made me feel this way. So don't you dare think any of this is about you."

Sliding a hand to her face, he grins. "And how exactly do I make you feel, Miss Walker?"

"Shut up," she laughs as she pushes him away playfully. "You already know."

He chuckles as they resume walking. Squeezing her hand, he concedes, "Yeah, I suppose I do."

'Cause I'm a gypsy
But are you coming with me?
I might steal your clothes
And wear them if they fit me
I never made agreements
Just like a gypsy
And I won't back down
'Cause life's already hurt me
And I won't cry
I'm too young to die
If you're gonna quit me
'Cause I'm a gypsy

The crystal chandeliers throw a glinting light over the ballroom, dazzling Sarah as she walks through the entrance, her arm linked through Chuck's.

"Hey," Chuck says softly as he leads her over toward the bar. "You all right?"

She nods absently, her gaze sweeping over the room. The guests are elegant, colorful, smiling. Despite the fact that she's been infiltrating parties like this since she was fifteen, she feels remarkably out of place.

He inclines his head and says, "Thanks for coming with me. I know these parties aren't really your thing."

"They're not really yours either, are they?" she asks with a tiny smile.

"Not really," he laughs and looks across the room. She follows his gaze to see Bryce mingling with a group of women, a toothy grin on his face and a flute of champagne already in his hand. Chuck explains, "Bryce is the face of the company. These types of gatherings are his forte, not mine."

"Well, I'm glad," Sarah smiles, wrapping her arms around his neck. "That way I have you all to myself."

Chuck grins and leans down for a kiss.

"Hey, buddy!"

Sarah pulls away to see Morgan standing in front of them. He's holding a drink in one hand and small plate of cookies in the other, and his tux looks a little too big for him.

"Hey, Sarah," Morgan grins. His eyes sweep over her dark green dress, and an expression of approval springs to his face. "If I may say, you're looking gorgeous tonight."

"Thanks, Morgan," Sarah smiles. She lifts a hand to Chuck's chest and says, "You look pretty handsome, too."

"Where's Anna?" Chuck asks.

"Oh, she's around here somewhere."

He laughs. "You lost her already?"

Frowning, Morgan protests, "It wasn't my fault! There are just so many people here."

Chuck claps him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, buddy. You'll find her."

"And we'll keep an eye out for her," Sarah adds.

"Great. Thanks, guys. I'll let you get back to your thing, but if you see her, tell her I'm over by the ice sculptures."

"No problem, Morg," Chuck assures him, and they watch the bearded man disappear into the crowd.

He stiffens as a dark-haired woman in a purple dress strolls toward them, a determined look in her eye, and Sarah gasps lightly as he grabs her hand and pulls her toward the balcony.

"Let's get some air, shall we?" he suggests quickly.

And they're through the French doors and out on the balcony before she can object. It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, but the stars twinkle out at her one by one to light up the sky.

"We just got here," she laughs.

"But you were thinking about it, weren't you?"

She turns her head to look at him and brings a hand up to his cheek. "Yes," she admits. She gestures toward the gardens a level below. "Besides, it's gorgeous out here."

When the cool breeze makes her shiver lightly, Chuck quickly slides off his tux jacket and wraps it around her shoulders.

"Are you warm enough? Do you want me to go grab you a drink?" he asks quietly.

Shaking her head, Sarah leans against him. "Don't go anywhere. I just want to stay right here with you."

"You'd be okay with staying out here the rest of the night, wouldn't you?" he teases, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss to her temple.

She stares out at the garden and replies, "No. I came here for you. And I will do anything you ask, whether it's schmoozing with the president of a rival company or just being your arm candy."

His laugh sends her hair fluttering. "Well, right now, I'd appreciate it if you helped me hide from Alicia Collins."

"Who?"

He sidles them to the side of the balcony into the shadows and points through the glass doors into the ballroom. "That woman in purple right there. She's from LA Gaming Magazine. I swear she corners me every time I come to one of these."

"Maybe she likes you," Sarah ribs gently as she spins around to face him.

"Maybe," he laughs, "but the only girl I want is right here."

Chuck leans in for a kiss, but, a hand on his chest, she holds him back. He raises an eyebrow in curiosity.

"What's the matter? What's up?" he asks.

Sighing, she reaches up to thread her fingers through his hair. "I . . . I have something to tell you."

Chuck leans back against the banister, pulling her closer. "All right. I'm listening."

Sarah opens her mouth, but at that moment a flashbulb goes off. Her vision swirling with dots of light, she turns to the culprit. Chuck spins and takes a step in front of her.

"Alicia," he greets with feigned friendliness, and, once her vision adjusts, Sarah can see the purple dress and the raven hair and the dazzlingly fake smile. There's a photographer standing behind her, at least having the decency to look uncomfortable.

"Mr. Bartowski," the stylish brunette drawls, "you are an elusive man."

He chuckles lightly. "Not purposefully."

"I'm sure." Alicia steps toward them, her eyes fixed on Sarah. "And who is this lovely woman? We haven't chatted in so long, I feel so out-of-touch."

"My private life is private," he tells her quietly. "Your readers don't need to know who I'm dating or how I spend my free time. They just need to know that the games we produce are quality."

"I believe you misunderstand the public's interest in you, Charles. You're a human interest story, an underdog who's come out on top. You're a celebrity now, and people can't get enough of celebrities." She gives him a smarmy smile and continues, "No matter how much you fight it, you are famous now. Get used it."

Her gaze flicks over Sarah one more time before she and the photographer return to the ballroom, and Chuck's shoulders slump in relief when they disappear into the crowd.

Sarah puts a hand on his shoulder. "She's charming."

Chuck lets out a surprised laugh as he turns around to slide an arm around her waist. "What do you say we go find some more enjoyable company?"

I can't hide
What I've done
Scars remind me
Of just how far I have come

"Here you go," Devon booms as he hands Sarah a glass of champagne.

She accepts it with a smile. "Thanks, Devon."

Standing on the outskirts of the dance floor, they watch the couples twirl by. Sarah's gaze alights on Chuck, dancing with his sister and trying very hard not to step on her feet. Ellie laughs good-naturedly, not seeming to mind if they get the steps wrong.

"They look like they're having fun," Awesome observes with his usual wide grin.

"They do," Sarah nods.

"I bet we can show them up, though." He extends his arm to her. "Feel like taking a spin?"

Chuckling, Sarah links her arm through his and agrees, "Certainly!"

They down their champagne and set the glasses down on a nearby table before he guides her out onto the floor. Devon, with his honed body and perfect posture, is, unsurprisingly, a fantastic dancer. Sarah, so used to nudging men in the direction she wants them to go, melts into his embrace and allows him to lead.

"You're a great dancer," she compliments after he twirls her around.

"Thanks," he beams. "You're pretty graceful yourself. Where'd you learn how to dance?"

"My father taught me. When I was little, he and my mom would push back all the furniture in the living room and dance. All kinds of things – tango, cha cha, polka."

"That's very cool. You should help me give the Chuckster a few lessons. I think it'll help if he's got a beautiful woman for a partner."

"He didn't do so badly when we danced earlier," she protests with a laugh.

Devon lifts an eyebrow knowingly. "But you were leading, weren't you?"

"Okay, fine. I was."

Laughing, Devon says, "You know, we should all go out dancing sometime. You Chuck, me, and Ellie. How do you feel about salsa?"

"Yeah," Sarah agrees, "that'd be fun."

Devon sends a glance over her shoulder to where Ellie and Chuck are dancing and laughing. "You know, he's really come a long way since he met you." When she turns a questioning gaze on him, he elucidates, "He's never been very social. He'd rather play video games or watch movies than go out and meet new people, but I don't know . . . the day he met you, he . . . changed."

"He still prefers video games to clubs," she says with a quiet smile.

"No, I know. But he's just different, more open to new things, and he's happier than I've ever seen him. Of course," he adds, thinking to himself, "I haven't known him as long as Ellie has, but . . . my point is that you're good for him. And we're happy to have you around."

Sarah fights the sinking feeling of guilt in her stomach to smile convincingly. "Thank you, Devon. You have no idea how happy I am to be a part of your family."

To whom it may concern
Only run with scissors
When you want to get hurt

Still in her dress from the party, Sarah sinks onto the couch in her father's living room. He's seated in his favorite brown leather armchair, a flannel robe tied over his pajamas.

He hands her his half-filled scotch on the rocks and says, "All right, baby girl. What's the matter now?"

She takes a long swig and swallows. "I can't do it. I can't tell him."

"I assume we're talking about the schnook here?" Sarah looks up sharply, and he laughs. "Well," he shrugs, "he is kind of a schnook."

"We're talking about Chuck," she corrects.

"Fine. Chuck," he says with a dismissive wave. "Now, what is it you can't tell him?"

"You don't understand, Dad. He's more than I deserve, and –"

Jack shakes his head and cuts her off. "I don't know how many times we have to go through this, darlin', but I'm getting a little tired of having to explain how amazing you are. And if he doesn't get that, then he doesn't deserve you."

The assertion draws a tentative smile from her lips, but misgiving quickly overtakes her heart again. "But how am I supposed to tell him that I was conning him?"

Jack crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. "Well, baby, how long have you been conning him?"

She scoffs and takes another sip of scotch. "You know how long, Dad. Since the day I met him."

"No, I know when the con started. I was there. But when did it stop being a con and become something more?"

Sarah stares contemplatively into the depths of her glass. "He took me to the pier one night, and we just sat talking and watching the ocean. I felt like he was opening up to me for the first time, and I wasn't afraid to open up either."

Jack narrows his eyes. "Wasn't that six months ago?" Refraining from answering, Sarah simply sinks further into the couch with a groan. He chuckles and says, "You've been in love with him for six months and it's taken you this long to realize it?"

"I don't know," she shrugs. "I guess I've just tried to ignore it, hoped it would go away."

"Honey," Jack says patiently, "something like this never goes away. It won't disappear just because you want it to. It sticks in your heart, holds fast until you're ready to accept it."

She closes her eyes and leans her head back against the couch. "But how am I supposed to tell him?"

Smiling, Jack advises, "If you love him as much as you say you do, then you'll trust him. And if he loves you, which he does –"

She lifts her head to scrutinize her father. "How do you know?"

"Believe me, honey, a guy like him can't fake a love like that. But my point is that he loves you, and he'll forgive you."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course," he nods. "Now go to him. You have to tell him before it's too late."

In the quiet of the night, Sarah slips in through the unlocked window and into Chuck's room. She purses her lips, reminding herself to have another talk with him about home security in the morning. But for now, she has bigger things on her mind.

With a deep breath, she wipes her moist palms on the silk of her gown and looks at Chuck, snoring softly.

Her heart drops out of her chest, and she has to force a breath into her lungs to keep herself from going lightheaded. He looks so calm, so gentle, so . . . innocent. How could she ever have thought of breaking his heart?

Tearing her eyes away, she steps out of her dress and leaves it in a green puddle on the floor before rifling through his dresser drawers to locate a t-shirt. She sheds her bra, pulls a Super Mario Brothers tee over her head, and climbs under the covers beside him. Chuck stirs slightly at her presence, instinctively moving against her, and a shiver goes through her at the feel of his hand upon her thigh. She lets out a long, slow breath in an attempt to calm her racing pulse, but a smile appears on her lips in spite of every conflicting feeling she's experienced over the past seven months.

She leans into him, leans her head into his chest and takes a deep breath, inhaling his scent. She loves just being next to him and breathing him in, because this is the only place she's ever felt safe, the only place she's ever felt truly loved.

But she's a gypsy at heart. She's meant to be roaming the world, making her way by her charms and using her intellect as her currency. She's meant to be a citizen of the planet.

She's not meant to stay in one place.

Or maybe she's simply never tried.

She sighs and lifts a hand against his chest, feeling his heartbeat – warm and full – against her palm.

"I don't know what I'm doing, Chuck," she whispers, her words muffled against his t-shirt. "All I know is that I love you."

She stretches her neck to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. In the morning. She'll tell him all in the morning. Right now, though, all she wants to do is fall asleep in the comfort of his arms.

But when she wakes, she wakes to an empty bed.

She finds Chuck in the kitchen, along with Ellie and Awesome. Ellie suggests a day at the park, and they spend the entire day – the entire weekend – with the other couple. Sarah almost laughs at the irony. Just when she wants a moment alone to explain, she can't get him to herself.

I said hey, you
You're no fool
If you say 'no'
Ain't it just the way life goes?
People fear what they don't know
Come along for the ride
Come along for the ride

Sarah knocks on the door of Chuck's office, taking a breath to squash down all the doubt inside. She feels like she's spent all her time with him convincing herself that she deserves him, and all she wants to do is step past it and get on with their life together. Hearing a muffled 'Come in,' she opens the door and steps inside.

Chuck's at his desk, but upon seeing her, he quickly ends his phone call and gets up to greet her. Smiling, he wraps her in an embrace and places a soft kiss on her lips.

"Hey, there," he says happily. "I didn't know you were dropping by."

She holds up a take-out bag. "I thought I'd bring you some lunch."

"Oh, you're amazing," he breathes, taking her by the hand and leading her over to the couch. "I'm starving, but I haven't had time to eat yet."

"Are you too busy? I can just leave the food if you are."

Chuck shakes his head with a grin and says, "Of course not. I'm never too busy for you."

Frowning, she leans forward to place her hand on his neck. "You work too hard, you know. It's already one-thirty, and I bet you haven't stopped working since you came in. You probably wouldn't have stopped at all if I hadn't showed up."

"That's not true!" he protests with a laugh, pecking her on the lips. "Bryce came in around eleven and made me take a break."

"Oh, well, I'm glad at least someone else around here has some sense," she chuckles.

He peers into the take-out bag, takes out a calzone and some napkins to hand to her. "I appreciate you dropping by to check up on me, though."

Sarah drops her eyes and smiles shyly. "What are girlfriends for?" she asks quietly.

His brow creases as he scrutinizes her, and he gently takes her hand in his. "Hey," he says, "how would you feel about taking off for a few days?"

Sarah looks up at him in surprise. "But just last week, you said you couldn't get away."

He shrugs and slides an arm around her waist. "Well, I'll make some time."

"You're good to me," she murmurs, her forehead resting against his. "Too good to me."

Stroking her cheek with his thumb, he whispers, "Never too good. You deserve more than I can give you."

Sarah rises from the couch abruptly and crosses the room. She stands by the window, a palm against the warm glass, her gaze taking in the view but not really seeing it. When she turns to look back at him, Chuck has a confused expression on his face.

"I don't deserve you," she tells him, shaking her head.

His gaze piercing hers, he says quietly, "Okay, Sarah, I'm listening." She cocks her head questioningly, and he elucidates, "You've been wanting to tell me something for days now, and I haven't exactly been receptive. So . . . I'm listening."

"I don't, I don't really know how to start."

"Then take your time. I'll be here when you're ready."

Sarah stares across the room into his eyes. It's now or never, and she's never felt so lucky.

She exhales shakily. "I'm not exactly who you think I am, Chuck." He doesn't say anything, just waits patiently for her to continue. Wiping her palms on her jeans, she tells him, "I never meant to hurt you, never thought it would end up like this." She runs a hand through her hair and contemplates her next words before sputtering, "I'm a con artist. So is my father. The only thing I've been taught since I was seven is the best ways to get money out of people. And that's what the past seven months have been – all a con. . . . I'm so, so sorry, Chuck."

Chuck stands up, walks over to her, and takes her hands in his. "Are you finished?" he asks. She nods, and he presses a kiss to her forehead. "Well, in that case," he says, "thanks for telling me."

Sarah backs away a few steps to stare at him. "That's all you can say? I tell you that I've been lying to you for our entire relationship and all you can say is 'thanks'?" She spits out the last word, confused, upset, expecting the worst from him. She'd been prepared for betrayal, not acceptance, and she almost wants him to yell at her, to demand an explanation for how she could treat him like that.

But before she can say anything else, the door pops open and Bryce pokes his head in.

"Everything okay, guys? We heard some shouting."

"Everything's fine, Bryce," Chuck tells him. "Sorry if we got a bit loud. We'll try to keep it down."

"Sure thing." Bryce's gaze flickers over to Sarah and he asks Chuck, "Did you read that article I gave you this morning?"

"Yeah, Bryce," he says, ushering his VP out the door, "I read it."

Nodding, Bryce backs out of the room. "Sure, buddy. Sorry."

Chuck shuts the door and keeps his back to her. Sarah frowns as she gazes at his form.

Crossing her arms, she sighs and says, "Okay, Chuck. Explain it to me."

He turns and leans against the door, quirking a small smile. "Bryce is like a brother to me. He watches out for me, but he can also get a little overprotective. So, a few weeks after we started dating, when we were first getting serious, he, uh, he hired a PI. Just to make sure you weren't going to try to take down the company or anything."

Sarah sinks onto the corner of Chuck's desk. Her eyes wander around and land on a magazine lying open. There's a photo of the two of them from Friday's party, and the headline reads, Gaming Wunderkind Dates Mystery Woman?

"You checked up on me?" she breathes.

"Well, Bryce did. He insisted. He does it to his girlfriends, too."

"What'd you find?"

"That you've only been Sarah Walker for eight months. That you've had over fifty identities in your twenty-eight years. That you were born –"

"Stop," she says, holding up a hand and closing her eyes. "If you knew all this, why didn't you break up with me the first chance you got?"

Chuck steps toward her. "Remember that night at the pier? Bryce told me that morning about your past. He wanted me to end it, and I . . . well, I was considering it. And then we went to the pier, and we just talked for hours, and . . . " His hands in his pockets, he shrugs and shakes his head. "I couldn't do it. For some crazy reason, I trusted you. And sometime during that night, between the cotton candy and the ocean and the talk about sandwiches and desert islands, I began to see you. Not Sarah Walker, not Katie O'Connell, not Rebecca Franco – just you."

Sarah bites her lip and meets him in the middle of the room. "And you liked what you saw?"

Smiling, he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "More than liked," he says. "And unless I was fooling myself, I'm pretty sure you were starting to fall for me, too."

She looks into his warm eyes, returns his smile, and slides her hands to his chest. "You weren't fooling yourself."

"Would I be fooling myself now if I said you loved me?" he asks, sliding his arms around her waist.

She winds her arms about his neck, curls her fingers into his hair. "No, you wouldn't be," she tells him before capturing his lips.

When they break apart, Chuck has a wide, toothy grin on his face. "Let's get away, Sarah. Let's, I don't know, elope to Vegas."

Sarah lets out a delighted laugh, pulling him backwards so she's leaning against the desk. But then she looks up into his eyes and sees, despite his jesting tone, how serious he is. "You're joking," she says, trying to call his bluff.

"No," he shakes his head. "I'm completely serious, Sarah. I want you in my life, and I hope you want me in yours."

"B-but I just told you that I'm a con artist," she stammers.

"But you told me the truth," he smiles.

"Still . . . I'm not like you, Chuck. You and your family, you have something wonderful. I lost my innocence long ago. You deserve someone as good as you."

Instead of arguing, Chuck merely smiles and requests, "Tell me how you feel about me."

"You know how I feel," she says, a faint blush rising to her cheeks.

He chuckles softly. "But I want to hear it from you."

She pulls his head down towards her, leans her cheek against his. "I'm in love with you, Charles Bartowski," she murmurs. "Head over heels."

Laughing, he brushes a kiss over her earlobe. "And I'm a fool for you, Sarah Walker. And two people crazy about each other should put each other out of their misery and get married, shouldn't they?"

She runs her thumb contemplatively along the back of his neck. "I would love to marry you, but you have to do me one favor first."

"Anything," he breathes.

"I want a prenup." He shakes his head, but before he can object, she continues, "I want you to be sure that, if we ever separate, I won't take a penny from you."

"Sarah, I'm not getting a prenup. I know how we feel about each other, and we're not going to separate."

"It's not for you, or even for me. It's for everyone else – Bryce, Ellie . . . I don't want to hurt them."

"Well, Ellie adores you, and Bryce is an ass most of the time, so . . . my answer is still 'no'."

She squints at him. "I'm never going to win this one, am I?"

"No," he laughs. "This is one thing I get."

"I can think of one more thing you can get," she says, beaming.

"Oh, yeah? What's that?"

"A wife. . . . That is, if you still want her?"

"Oh, I want her all right," he declares, leaning in for another kiss.

'Cause I'm a gypsy
But are you coming with me?
I might steal your clothes
And wear them if they fit me
I never made agreements
Just like a gypsy
And I won't back down
'Cause life's already hurt me
And I won't cryI'm too young to die
If you're gonna quit me
'Cause I'm a gypsy

"You look absolutely beautiful," Ellie says, adjusting the lace veil one final time.

Sarah, breathing deeply, takes a step away to look into the full-length mirror across the room. "Thanks, Ellie," she smiles.

Ellie squeezes her hand. "Nervous?"

"You have no idea," Sarah chuckles lightly.

"What are you talking about?" Ellie asks with a smile. "I was a nervous wreck at my wedding. Remember?"

Nodding, Sarah smoothes the folds of her ivory gown. "Of course. But you and Devon have been together for years. You're amazing together. Me? I never thought I could be lucky enough to meet a man like your brother."

"Well, trust me, Sarah," Ellie says, "he feels pretty darn lucky as well." Standing behind her, Ellie takes her by the shoulders and pokes her head over to look into their reflection. "Now, you are going to go out there, and walk down that aisle, and make my brother the happiest man in the world. Got it?"

"Got it," Sarah smiles, biting back her nerves. "But what about the butterflies that are currently trying to escape from my stomach?"

Ellie turns her around to look her in the eye. "Listen to me, Sarah. When you step out of this room, you forget everything. Forget about everyone else in this church. Forget about that feeling in your stomach that makes you feel like you'd rather run to the nearest bathroom than walk down that endless aisle. All you do is look into his eyes. When you do that, you'll know if this is right or not."

Sarah looks straight into her soon-to-be sister-in-law's eyes – brown, like her brother's. "And what if it's not?"

Instead of threatening or reassuring her, Ellie just laughs and plants a friendly kiss on her cheek. "Everything's going to be fine, Sarah."

And the thing is, everything is fine, more than fine really.

Ellie stuffs a bouquet into her hands and leads her out into the back of the church, where her father is waiting. When the bridal procession begins, Sarah remembers Ellie's advice. She throws everything else away, forgets the guests and the music and even her father's arm around hers. Instead, she looks down the aisle and meets Chuck's gaze.

A grin springs to his face, causing the butterflies in her stomach to instantly calm. Her palms don't feel so moist anymore, her heart's not racing so fast. She smiles back at him, and she knows.

She's going to spend the rest of her life with this man.

And, even though she's still convincing herself that she deserves a guy like him, she knows she's going to do everything she can to make their life worth his time. Watching the grin grow on his face, she's pretty sure he's thinking the same thing about her.

And striding down that aisle – as she follows a woman she's come to view as her sister, feels the comforting presence of her father beside her, and walks towards the man who's stolen her heart and is about to become her husband – Sarah finds that she couldn't be happier.