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~Two Weeks and One Quick, All Cash Real Estate Closing Later~

Chuck stood at the carved entryway frame holding in both hands a three-ring, white binder. He contemplated the carving, the night it was made, and the last few weeks. It was quiet and he was, for the moment, alone while Sarah was in the bedroom putting items away in their new places. Yesterday, when the two of them had started to move in and before the unpacking began in earnest, they had stood in the same spot together and stared at their carved names. Sarah remembered the night after Ellie had deliberately crashed her car and Chuck had brought Sarah to the house unconscious. (It seemed to Chuck that, thankfully, the pain that recalling that night had previously caused Sarah had been blunted as she and Ellie spent some joy-filled time together before Ellie and Devon left for Chicago.) Sarah also remembered the vague recognition that had surfaced in her mind that night, that she had been the one to carve her name in the frame. But, as she ran her fingers over the letters of her name and his, she had told Chuck that, as it was then, she could not bring forth in her mind a clear picture of herself making the carving. She still only had the same fuzzy awareness of it rather than a full memory she could recall.

Lost in those thoughts, he pressed the binder against his chest. The two of them had looked at the photographs it contained numerous times. (And each time, she found the pictures of him with his longer, wavy hair delightfully amusing.) He lightly touched the rough cut "+" that linked their names and then ran his hand over the binder's smooth cover. For good luck. This house, the mark we made here, the stories I can tell her. He looked down at the binder in his hands. The pictures we have. I just need to keep her immersed in our story and hope that with her emotions, it all will act as a catalyst for breaking through to her memories.

~oOo~

~Five Days Later~

The carved entryway caught Chuck's eye. He quickly looked away. Nothing. He had taken her to significant places from their past: the Mexican restaurant where they had their first date, the Chinese restaurant where they had their first real date (or second first date), a motel in Barstow, and the former Buy More (now the largest Subway shop in the world) among others. Nothing. On their third night in the house he had recreated their picnic on the floor when they had first given the house a test drive. Nothing. Earlier in the day he took out the binder of photos and again told her about the moments captured in them, sometimes phrasing his description more as a question to see if she could supply a detail he was leading up to that he hadn't told her before. Nothing! Not a damn thing. Not a scrap of memory had come back to her. He lowered his chin and thumped his forehead against the entryway frame.

"Chuck?" Sarah's voice startled him. He spun to face her and could see the worry in her eyes. "My goodness. I can feel the anguish rolling off you. What's wrong?"

Chuck took a couple breaths; she waited. "I failed you, Sarah."

Her voice full of disbelief, Sarah asked softly, "How did you fail me?"

"I didn't protect you from Quinn."

"Chuck, you can't blame yourself for that."

"I'm your husband." Chuck's voice cracked. He put his hands to his face and for a long moment attempted to rub away his frustration and guilt. "I know it's old fashioned, and you've saved me more times than I could hope to save you in multiple lifetimes, but I'm your husband and I'm supposed to protect you, especially when you're vulnerable."

"I do remember who I was before coming to Burbank. I'm not without the means to protect myself."

"I know. But, Quinn..." Chuck's head was slowly shaking, his eyes unfocused, as he ground that name between his teeth. "I let him take you and escape. You were hurting and I couldn't help you or stop him. Yet, and God only knows what you had to endure, you were able to send me a distress signal. But I was too late."

"Chuck, look at me. I don't remember what happened with Quinn before he showed up pretending to be my handler –maybe that's a mercy– but I don't doubt that you tried everything possible to find and save me. And you did. You saved me when you took the bullet that Quinn meant for me, and you found me when I was on our beach lost."

Chuck refocused on Sarah. He was still angry with himself, but her words helped to temper that anger. She had said on the beach she was not leaving, and he believed her. She had said she loved him, and he knew it was true. Still, if she could have her memories back, that would be justice. She deserved to have her memories back, and he desperately wanted those memories for her, the good and the bad.

"Sarah, he may be dead, but I cannot shake the feeling that Quinn has won and I let him win because I took the last pristine Intersect. What if it could have given you your memories back? What if Ellie's plan could have worked?"

"You took the Intersect to save the lives of hundreds. That's the Chuck my heart knows. You put those people's well-being first, and spared their loved ones from having to grieve, at the cost of your own happiness."

"Maybe there was another way." Chuck's voice trailed off and he looked away.

"There was no time. Anyways, you heard your sister. She doubts –seriously doubts– her plan to use the Intersect to give me back my memories would have worked the way you two hoped. When I was alone with her that first day back, we spoke about it. She thinks in all likelihood the attempt would have left me feeling detached from myself. Instead of genuine memories, the implanted memories would have felt –how did she put it?– like looking at a document that had been re-Xeroxed too many times. Legible but clearly not the original. So while I would have understood the implanted memories, they would not have felt innate, and I might have ultimately found them discomforting, or maybe even heartbreaking to bear." Resignation crept into her voice. "I don't think the Intersect was the answer."

Sarah took both of Chuck's hands in hers. Chuck could not look at her, but Sarah pulled him in closer and leaned to peer at him until he could not help but to look into her eyes. Chuck spoke, "I told you on that roof after you... dealt... with Quinn and I took the Intersect for myself that I couldn't get your memories back… and I fear that it will end up I was right."

Sarah cut in, "Yes, I think we just have to accept that my memories might not come back. Hey, you also said you couldn't get me back, but I'm here with you." Chuck looked deeper into Sarah's eyes, no longer shying from them. The look she gave him was so warm, so full of love, so unwavering.

"If she knows that she is head over heels for you, you kids will figure this all out, I'm sure of it."

"Chuck?"

Chuck, lost in his thoughts, snapped back. "Sorry, I was thinking about something Morgan said."

"That's ok. I just want to make sure you know you have me back. I may only remember being a spy, but I know how I feel about you."

"I do. And if we have to start from there and write a new story together, I will still consider myself the luckiest man in the world. But you deserve to have your memories back."

"Chuck, I remember the person I was before I met you and I'm certain I have, right now, so much more than I deserve."

"No, you're wrong. We both changed so much over the past five years, and I want you to remember every time you did something amazing to make me count my lucky stars that you let me into your life. So that you can remember our first date, our first dance, our first kiss. So you can remember my father and how you found him for me so that I could make Ellie's wedding wish come true. And so you can remember…" Chuck paused as a tremble wound itself through him. "So you can rememb…" A mutiny by his windpipe cut off his words and Chuck found that he was on the verge of losing control of his emotions. He gulped air, settling himself. "And so you can remember when I asked you if you love me, and you, for the first time, said, 'Yes,' making me happier than I ever dreamed possible." A slight smile played across Chuck's face as he recalled the juxtaposition of that moment: him looking ridiculous sitting in his underwear and clutching a plastic game-controller guitar while asking the most crucial question of his life.

He took a deep breath and continued, "I know if we succeed it will mean you remember the times I disappointed you, when I made foolish decisions or failed to explain myself adequately and in doing so hurt you. You should know all of that, too. The good, the bad, it is all part of our story. It's a wonderful story and you should have it all, vivid and genuine, not the poor Xerox copy I keep showing you."

Somewhere along the way Sarah had begun to cry and laid her head against Chuck's chest. "Chuck, whatever happens, I love you."

~oOo~

~Three Days Later~

"Morgan, it was good seeing you. I hope Alex isn't too upset you'll be getting home so late."

Chuck and Morgan stood at the front door as Morgan finished putting his light jacket on and shouldered his messenger style bag.

"Dude, it was an emergency, I had to come. You'd been in the house for over a week and you still hadn't set up your home entertainment system or your gaming hardware? You were at serious risk of losing your nerd cred."

"Heh, I hear you, buddy, thanks for saving me from that awful fate."

"Anytime, Chuck. Anyways, I'm to blame, suggesting we watch a little 'Die Hard' to 'test' the setup before moving onto the gaming consoles. Like we could stop watching after Bruce welcomes Reggie VelJohnson to the party. What was I thinking?"

Chuck, smirking, nodded in agreement. "Well, now we're all set for future movie nights."

"Oh! Geez, that reminds me. I've got something for you. I was going to do a big 'ta-da' moment after we tested the setup. Damn Bruce Willis and his Oscar-worthy performance."

"Whatcha got?"

"Well, I was doing a bit of spring cleaning the other day in preparation for me and Alex moving to a new place of our own and look what I found mixed in with my movies." Morgan reached into his bag and pulled out a disc in a clear clamshell case. His grin was wide as he waggled the case in his hand before handing it to Chuck. Chuck inspected it.

"What is it, some bootleg? Who wrote the label on the disc? Did they have a bad case of the shakes? it's practically illegi… oh, wait. Oh, wait! Is this...?"

Morgan was rocking from foot to foot with excitement. "Yep! Don't know how it ended up with me, but, of course, everything got crazy scary that evening so who knows what happened exactly. When I saw it mixed in with my tapes and DVDs I was sure you'd want it."

Chuck gazed at the disc that held the video montage of Sarah and him that Jeff (Jeff of all people!) had prepared for the wedding rehearsal dinner.

"Thanks, Morg! You know, I have very little video of Sarah and me. Just wasn't my thing. Heck, we didn't even have a videographer at the wedding. I guess we thought there was no way we'd ever forget that day." Chuck lowered his head to look at the disc and his voice softened as he became introspective. "I don't know if Sarah is ever going to get her memories back." That feeling had been creeping in on him more and more over the last few days, growing in weight. Having said it out loud, Chuck felt the crush of it. He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly while rubbing the back of his head with his palm. His stare returned to Morgan. "I keep hoping for a breakthrough for her memories like she had with her emotions. Each day we spend some time with me telling her about things we did, experiences we shared, over the past five years. Heck, I've got a binder where I collected most all of the pictures I have of us or of family and friends from that time and we've flipped through it dozens of times. But nothing new. Not one new glimpse of her memories."

"Maybe you should have her kick your butt again. That worked here in the house once before, right?"

Chuck smiled, appreciative of his friend's attempt to keep his mood from darkening. "Morgan, I'm getting desperate enough that I might just try it."

"Well, before that," Morgan reached over to tap the disc case in Chuck's hand, "Watch this with her. Hey, since I'm leaving, why not show it to her now?"

Chuck looked down at the disc for a long moment, "Nah, when she last checked on us she said she was tired and going to bed, that was a while ago. I'll play it tomorrow."

Morgan nodded. "It's beautiful. Better than I had remembered."

"You watched it?"

"Yeah. I was just planning on watching a minute, to make sure the disc was fine. Before I knew it, I had sat through the whole thing. Hmmm, I really have a problem not finishing a movie I've started. And Alex joined me when I was watching and she agreed it was beautiful. There might even have been some crying... by me." The very last part Morgan had said under his breath. "The point is, I have a really good feeling about this. And when have I steered you wrong?"

"Should I start with our elementary school days, or jump ahead to when I joined the Buy More, you know, to keep the list somewhat manageable?"

Morgan, who had begun taking a few steps outside along the front door path to depart, came to a stop and looked at Chuck, grinning. "Hans, bubby, I'm your white knight!"

Chuck laughed. Morgan did as well, then his expression became serious. "Magic kiss, bro. Who's idea was the magic kiss?" Morgan pointed to himself with his thumbs.

Morgan turned, walked to his car and got in. Chuck watched Morgan drive away and wished he had his friend's optimism. As he closed the red front door he thought to himself, Maybe I'll just watch the first minute or two.

xXXXx