This story will have multiple points of view, each one depicted by the name of the character above each scene.

A/N: Thanks to michaelfmx for coming through in a pinch to beta read this chapter. Excellent job, as always. And Emily, for being the voice of reason, doing her best to put on the brakes when I want to fly off the deep end and overwrite a scene. She's been at least partially successful. The mistakes are still all mine. Every. Last. One.

It should go without saying but … I don't own Chuck.

Chapter 6: Love and War

*** Sarah ***

I couldn't handle listening to Chuck make one of his lighthearted, witty quips about something I knew was tearing him apart. Not after I'd finally acknowledged my feelings and constant obfuscations, and witnessed his heart-wrenching confession to Ellie. He always hid his pain behind his sense of humor, putting others at ease while deflecting attention away from the cross he'd been forced to carry. It was so incredibly unfair and, at least in this instance, all my fault.

For the second time today, I collapsed into a puddle of tears. And once the floodgates opened, I couldn't find a way to close them again. I knew I'd have to face my past head on and confront everything I'd done—the people I'd hurt and the lives I'd taken—before I could earn the right to forge a lasting connection with another person. The thought terrified me, frankly. But if anyone was worthy of having to grapple with my inner demons, it was Chuck Bartowski.

I had brought so much heartache into his life. From being part of an organization that robbed him of his freedom and privacy, to forcing him to lie to his friends and family, to placing his life in constant danger, all so we could exploit his incredible gifts for the so-called greater good. And if that wasn't bad enough, I'd been lying to his face on a daily basis about how I felt, even though I knew that coming clean would light him up like a Roman candle on the Fourth of July. At the very least, it would've made some of his hardships easier to bear. He wouldn't have felt so alone … and neither would I.

Now I could include reinforcing his misconception about the kind of relationship I'd had with Bryce—the arbiter of his ruination—to the tally sheet.

After Carina spilled the beans, I'd been too ashamed to correct Chuck's assumption that what Bryce and I had shared bore even the slightest resemblance to a healthy romantic relationship. If only I wasn't such a wreck of a human being, clueless as to what a normal, loving couple even looked like, I could've followed her example by simply explaining how superficial and meaningless my time with Bryce had been. Chuck wouldn't have judged me for something that had happened before we'd met. That wasn't the kind of person he was. Instead, I'd lied to him again—if only by omission.

Sobs wracked my body, and I buried my face in my hands. The guilt was so overwhelming, I couldn't bear to look at him.

But then I heard the rattle of the swing's chains and felt his hands squeeze my shoulders. I glanced up, afraid of what I'd see—but there he stood, his brow furrowed, those puppy-dog eyes I loved so much suffused with worry and concern. When he reached down to brush a tear from my cheek, I couldn't hold back any longer. I launched myself at him, nearly knocking us both to the ground, wrapping around him like kudzu as I buried my face in the crook of his neck.

Without hesitation, his arms enveloped me in a warm embrace, holding me so tightly I could hardly breathe. When he lifted his hand to stroke my hair, my legs practically turned to jelly. Emboldened, I pressed my lips against his carotid, relishing the beat of his heart and the taste of his skin, and felt his whole body shiver in response. It gave me the courage to do what I'd come here to do.

"I'm s-so sorry, Chuck," I managed through fits and starts, clutching the back of his shirt with both fists bunched in the fabric. Maybe it seemed desperate, needy in a way I'd never allowed myself to be seen. But I didn't care if he knew I never wanted to let him go. For once in my life, it was the honest-to-God truth.

"Sorry?" His voice rose in pitch and volume. "For what? You don't owe me anything."

He knew better than that. We both did. But that was just part of who he was—always taking the high road, giving me an out even when I didn't deserve it.

I pushed back and looked up, my palms resting on his chest. I drew strength from his steady heartbeat, a reminder of why I'd come here. With tears still welling, I slid my hands down his arms and grabbed his wrists, pulling him over to a nearby picnic table. I coaxed him to sit so we were both straddling the bench, facing each other. Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I took a calming breath—and the words came tumbling out.

"Yes I do, Chuck, and you damn well know it. I need to apologize for so much. For starters, how I've treated you since the day we met, never showing or telling you just how much you've come to mean to me. Or how I kept pushing you away, afraid of getting too close, knowing that if I did, I wouldn't be able to resist falling for you even harder than I already had." I couldn't help the bark of laughter that escaped at the absurdity of that thought. "As if that had any chance of working."

There were few light sources in the park this time of night, but this close, I could still see the shocked expression that swept across his face. "Wait … what? Did you just…?" He trailed off, sounding thoroughly stunned.

I pressed on, afraid that if I stopped to clarify, I wouldn't be able to continue. "And I'm sorry for how I've ignored those feelings. I was—I am—an emotionally stunted coward who has no experience dealing with someone like you … someone so endearingly open and honest with everyone they meet. My defense mechanisms kicked in and I closed myself off, refusing to share even the tiniest tidbits of what my life was like before we met. It wasn't because I didn't want you to know those kinds of things, Chuck. It was because I was terrified of what you'd think of me once you found out who I really am and what I've done." Who was I kidding? I was still terrified, but that was no excuse—particularly given what else I had to apologize for.

"But I'm especially sorry that you and Ellie had front-row seats to Bryce Larkin, of all people, kissing me in your bedroom, of all places. Yes, I'll admit that I kissed him back. There's no use in denying it. And yes, I realize how awful it looked. But please believe me, Chuck … he's not the man I'd hoped to be kissing—far from it. The kiss you and I shared on the dock, the one I refused to talk about—it knocked my whole world off its axis."

I swallowed thickly, knowing the next part would be a hard sell. "As ridiculous as I know it sounds, I think it happened because I was so confused and distracted by everything I've come to realize lately—everything I've been feeling when it came to you. It was all so alien, and the intensity of those emotions scared the shit out of me. Honestly, they still do. And spies have this nasty habit of not accepting things at face value, especially positive, life-changing things. By the time I went to take Bryce down, I'd already half-convinced myself that you were too good a person to be tainted by the likes of someone like me. And when he kissed me—and I kissed him back, despite how I felt about you—it removed all doubt."

Chuck's eyes widened. His mouth opened as if to interject, but I blundered on. "To make matters worse, now—because of that monumental mistake—I've been reassigned. I know I've hurt you, time and again, and now I've placed you in even more danger. I've made a huge mess of things, and I don't know how to fix it."

At that thought, I broke down again. My body shook with the force of my tears, but I didn't try to wipe them away or cover my face. I wanted him to see me for who I really was—the vulnerable girl who I'd always kept hidden.

"The worst part is knowing I've lost your trust," I managed to say through whimpering sobs. "I want to make things right between us, but I don't know where to start. The only thing I can think to do is to ask … no, beg, for your forgiveness and hope you'll give me—give us, another chance."

I paused, just in case he was inclined to put me out of my misery. But he didn't say a word. He just gaped at me like a beached guppy, and I felt my heart plummet. What had I expected? Even Chuck's forgiveness had its limits.

"I can't blame you if you don't want to try," I conceded, hanging my head and shaking it in defeat. "I'm a complete wreck of a person. I know that. I wasn't lying to you on our first date—I've been dragging around so much baggage, for so long, I could be a spokesperson for friggin' Samsonite. I've seen and done things that would haunt hardened criminals, much less a jaded CIA field agent. Each life I've taken, each heartbeat I've been ordered to snuff out, has left huge, gaping holes in my own heart. I know it may not be much to offer you, Chuck … but whatever's left, no matter what you decide, belongs to you."

The deafening silence that followed stretched out for days, weeks, months, years … or maybe for just a few seconds. Chuck stared at me, a kaleidoscope of cryptic emotions flashing across his handsome face. It was unnerving, given everything I'd just said and his normal tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve. My father's prophetic words rattled around in my head like a sadistic game of Plinko: Love is for suckers and fools—and you, darlin,' are neither.

I broke first. "Nothing to say, huh?"

Chuck hesitated, then reached down to grab both of my hands—which, I was embarrassed to say, were nervously wringing themselves. They stilled in his palms, my heart soaring when I felt the gentleness of his thumbs caressing my knuckles. "Um, yeah … yeah, I do. But I'm kinda struggling a bit to, um, find my footing. That was some speech … and a hell of a lot to unpack. The motherlode of Sarah Walker's thoughts and feelings, in rapid-fire succession, no less. Fitting." He gave me a crooked grin. "Might take me a moment to parse everything out."

He fell silent again, staring at the leaves that swirled on the ground at our feet. The minutes dragged on, until I couldn't take it anymore.

"Talk to me, Chuck," I implored as I flipped my hands over to interlace our fingers.

Eventually, he looked up, his eyes targeting mine a moment before he spoke. "A few weeks ago," he began, a slight edge to his voice, "I asked you if this—if we," he held up our joined hands to drive home the point, "had any kind of future together. We were both under the influence of a powerful truth serum, Sarah. And you told me … flat out, no. It was so final, the way you said it. I could see it in the depths of your gorgeous baby-blues. I damn near drowned in them that day. So what am I supposed to believe now?"

Here we go. Another deception coming back to bite me in the ass. It was high time I used a different approach—starting now.

I returned his crooked smile—with an added dose of coyness. He wanted honesty, I'd let him have it … right between the eyes. "You should know, Chuck, that I've been trained to resist sodium pentothal. And technically, I didn't lie. At the time, I didn't see any kind of future where I would ever fit into your world, as much as I wanted to. At least, that's how I framed your question in my mind." I let my smile widen, looking up through my lashes. "Now, if you would've asked, oh say, something personal … like if I'd ever had any dreams where you and I made love on the beach that first night like I'd wanted … I would've had to either deflect or refuse to answer the question altogether."

Ha-ha… Take that, nerd boy!

Even in the dim light surrounding our little bubble, I could see him turning beet-red as he fell into a coughing fit. It was the most adorable thing I'd ever seen and significantly bolstered my spirits. Telling Chuck the unabashed truth was turning out to be as cathartic as it was liberating. It was also life-affirming, knowing I didn't have to hold back any longer—at least not when it came to safer topics. I doubted telling him everything about my horrific past would come so easily.

"Ahem…" Chuck cleared his throat, blinking rapidly. "Wow. So … um … that just happened. Thanks for the mental image, by the way. That's, erm … good to know. But I feel like I should ask … was that to keep me warm at night while you're off gallivanting around the globe, overthrowing international warlords with nothing but a toothpick and a stick of chewing gum? Because, although that might just work, I can't help but address the pink elephant in the room. You did just say you've been reassigned, right?"

I nodded, my renewed spirits taking a sudden nosedive.

"With Bryce?"

I nodded again, my mortification now complete.

"So how's this supposed to work, Sarah? What was your game plan in coming here tonight? I'm sure you had one. You always do. And as much as I'd love to believe everything you've told me, I'm having a hard time reconciling it with the fact that the Andersons are about to ride again. I know how Bryce is, remember? He has this tendency of turning everything I love to ash. And I also remember what you told me during the Zarnow mission," his eyes clouded over, a storm brewing in the shallows, "you said—in so many words—to 'trust you, not believe you.' How can I do either in this situation, given all that's happened?"

The damn spy life, poisoning everything real it touched, no matter the circumstance. But, I reminded myself, he had said 'everything I love.' That had to count for something—right?

"Look, Chuck," I said, garnering the last bit of fortitude left in my reserves, "I realize that I've left you dangling at the end of your rope, unsure of who or what to trust … but please understand: When it comes to the Andersons, they never were—and never will be—a real couple. They were a façade, born out of convenience and necessity, buried … crucified, really … long before I walked into the Buy More on a mission I'd thought would be a piece of cake. And look at me now." I gave him a tentative grin. "Who would've thought that one of the CIA's finest could be so easily disarmed by an unassuming Nerd Herder with nothing but a pocket protector and a devastating smile?"

That adorable blush swept over Chuck's face again. "Okaaaaaay," he drawled, rolling his eyes as if he thought I was joking. "But that still doesn't answer the question—what was your plan?"

"I guess that depends on what we decide."

"We?"

"Yes, Chuck … you and me."

"So you're saying we have options?" His brows rose so high, they almost touched his hairline.

"There are always options, Chuck," I countered, giving his hands a reassuring squeeze.

He obviously thought differently. "Not to rain on your parade, Sarah—but with Graham's and Beckman's watchdogs monitoring my every move; your reassignment with the infamous Double-Oh-Casanova to parts unknown; your imminent replacement, who's probably already received orders to make my life even more restrictive and miserable than before; and this super-computer that's still squatting, rent-free, I might add, in my overcrowded noggin—what kind of options do we possibly have left?"

I couldn't blame him for his skeptical tone and dismal outlook. I'd made everything so complicated since the very beginning. But it was actually ridiculously simple. As long as he was willing to give us another shot, I'd never let him feel alone again. And, I decided once and for all, I'd deal with the fallout, come what may. The feeling was terrifying—but exhilarating, too.

"Well, for one," I began, gearing up to lay all my cards on the table, "I could quit the CIA—turn in my badge and gun, and find a place somewhere nearby while we figure out what our next steps should be."

Chuck's mouth fell open. He looked aghast, as if the thought was tantamount to blasphemy. "You'd give up your job, everything you've worked so hard to achieve?" He tilted his head, his brow furrowed in confusion. "For me?"

I unlaced one hand from his and ran it through the insanely soft curls at the back of his neck as I answered. "For you, Chuck?—I'd give up just about anything." I let that settle for a few seconds before continuing. "And no matter what you decide, this," I held up our joined hands, echoing his earlier point, "is my last mission. That decision is nonnegotiable, I'm afraid. In the back of my mind I think I made that choice long before deciding to come here tonight."

Until Budapest, the thought of throwing away my career for some guy I'd only known for a few months would've sounded completely insane; ludicrous; absolutely bonkers. But as the words left my lips, I'd never felt so grounded in my life—so sure about what, and specifically who, I wanted.

Chuck's smile grew in incremental, delicious stages, its crescendo nearly splitting his face in two. The beauty of it awoke something deep and powerful inside me that'd been hibernating for years, unattended: hope. I felt the fragments of my riddled heart begin to mend.

And just like that, his smile collapsed in on itself as fast as it'd grown.

"But they'd never let us have that, would they?" he asked. "You and me in a real relationship without you under their thumb? They'd never allow it—especially with your skillset. They'd see you as a threat."

He was such a brilliant man. "No, Chuck … they wouldn't," I conceded. "Plus, I'd lose access to valuable intel that could be crucial in keeping you safe. But at least I'd be close by. That might prove to be just as important."

Chuck mulled it over for a minute, then shook his head. "As appealing as it sounded at first, not being able to see each other—at least not often and without taking serious risks—and losing our one advantage of knowing their plans ahead of time, drops this option to well below what I'd consider suboptimal. Plus, I couldn't ask you to give up so much for someone in my situation. I'm damaged goods with a neon target painted on my back, for Christ's sake. I don't want you to have to tie your wagon to this." He lifted his free hand, placing it over his heart.

God. He was so wrong on that point. But my heart soared as I took in what he'd said.

Our one advantage … together.

I wasn't about to blow this opportunity.

"Like it or not—for better or worse—I'm officially hitched to your wagon for the long haul." Hopefully, my blatant innuendo wasn't pushing things too far. "And the way I see it, I'll be gaining far more than I'm giving up. Before Burbank … I was so lonely. The CIA's been a fickle, selfish lover, Chuck … and although I have nothing to base this on, I'm fairly certain you'll wind up being the exact opposite." I reclaimed both of his hands, eager to feel his touch as I watched his eyes glaze over with the implications of what I'd just said.

"But as to your point," I continued, determined to see this through, "I agree that quitting has some definite disadvantages, which leads me to our second option: Staying with the Company, while circumventing any plans they might have against you. It would also give me the chance to keep you and your family safe by providing Fulcrum a target that actually deserves the heat. They think Bryce is the Intersect, right?" He nodded, his attention rapt. "So I'd make sure it stays that way. It would buy us some time, too. I've already started working on contingency plans, but the more time we have, the better."

Chuck didn't look too thrilled by the prospect. "So you and Bryce are what?—supposed to be acting as some kind of decoy … for me? That's your mission?"

"In so many words, yes. But there's also an FBI field office in San Francisco we're supposed to investigate. There's been chatter coming from an agent there who's shown interest in Intersect-related data. Fulcrum may or may not be involved. We don't know yet. But it would be foolish not to find out who's digging into intel that could potentially lead back to you."

Chuck's brow creased. "I'm sorry, Sarah, but I've got a really bad feeling about this plan of yours. Or Graham's, I guess I should say. And it's not just about being jealous of you and Bryce, although there is that. We don't know that much about this Fulcrum group. What are they capable of—what do they even want? Plus, I'm not crazy about you putting your neck on the line for me, or anyone else, for that matter. Especially not when we're flying blind, with potential homicidal hijackers on board." He reached up to tuck my hair behind my ear, his thumb brushing my cheek. "Please tell me there's a third option."

"Yes—there is," I said nervously, "but I'm afraid you're not gonna like it."

"Well, whatever it is, we'll deal with it together," he said with conviction. The flicker of hope in my heart reignited.

I drew a deep breath. It was now or never.

"We could always run," was my opening salvo.

He looked alarmed, as if he'd never contemplated such a thing. I couldn't blame him, knowing everything he'd have to give up, but this was the best—maybe the only—way I knew to ensure his safety. Every other option left too many variables that could go horribly wrong. Sure, there was risk involved here, but with my training and the time I'd spent on the lam with my dad, I was sure we could vanish off the government's radar, becoming ghosts to everyone who might wish him harm.

Was I being selfish? Was it unreasonable to ask him to make yet another sacrifice? Perhaps. But at least there'd be a future in which I could make it up to him. And I'd spend the rest of my life doing just that.

Maybe I needed to up the ante—give him an idea of what we'd be fighting so hard to protect. After all, all I'd offered him so far was months and months of lukewarm affection, interspersed with handling him like a damn possession. It was high time I treated him like an equal ... like a true partner … and I had what I hoped would be a surefire strategy in mind.

His eyes widened in surprise when I pushed off the bench and slid into his lap—face-to-face, never breaking eye contact. Straddling him, I sank back down, my gaze unwavering. "You and me," I told him. "We go right now and we never look back."

I felt him tremble when I brushed back his hair, my fingers lingering on his cheek. It was rough with early-morning stubble, giving him an unfamiliar edge that seriously turned me on. My intention had been to distract him, to make sure I had his undivided attention. But as I trailed my fingertips downward, his skin so warm under my touch, I realized belatedly that this was a double-edged sword. Like Chuck, I wasn't usually one for public displays of affection, unless the mission demanded it—but here, with him now, I didn't care who saw us. At least I could show him how I felt, even if I was terrible at saying it.

I traced his lips with the edge of my thumb, and felt the heat of his breath on my skin—but he didn't lift his arms to return the favor, the way I'd hoped. Instead, he gripped the picnic bench so tightly, his knuckles began to blanch. He'd gone completely still, his eyes growing larger and larger under peaked brows—as if, I realized, he couldn't believe this was actually happening. Knowing Chuck, he probably thought he was still asleep in his bed, dreaming of a day this might become reality.

Well, I could put those thoughts to rest right here and now.

I gripped his shoulders to anchor myself and leaned back in his lap, rolling my hips in a way that would put an accomplished belly dancer to shame. Slowly, deliberately, I rubbed against him. He made a desperate sound low in his throat, and finally let go of the damned bench. His hands rose, spreading wide on my back as he pulled me tight against his chest. Desire sparked everywhere our bodies touched, settling low and molten, deep in my core.

I wanted to kiss him, more than anything in this world. But if I did, I might never finish what I had to say. Instead, tempting us both, I lowered my head to his, our lips just an inch apart. I breathed in his essence—Ivory soap and the spicy scent that was uniquely Chuck—before I spoke.

"I have some money saved up," I said softly, my voice ragged. We gasped in unison as I rolled my hips again, setting us both ablaze. "I'd get us new identities, create an escape route." My heart pounded a staccato rhythm against my ribcage as his hands slid down to my waist, holding on so tightly, it was as if he feared I might vanish from his grasp. My voice was a rasp as I managed, "This could be the only way to keep you safe."

I leaned in closer, a whisper of air all that separated us. "I want to be a real girl again, Chuck." Closer still, my lips lightly brushing his. "With you."

And then came the moment of truth… "Will you run away with me?"

*** Chuck ***

My mind was reeling and my body a raging inferno. This was actually happening. It was all real. This bona fide badass, an international woman of mystery, a goddess among mere mortals, wanted to run away with me, Chuck Bartowski, abandoning everything she'd ever known just for a chance to be together.

I had no idea how I'd gotten here—divine intervention, some mysterious outside force, or just plain old dumb luck. Not that it mattered; I'd embrace this turn of events … and its instigator … with both hands, willingly. But first, I had to find a way to protect them both by making sound decisions. This was proving to be harder than it looked—no pun intended—with Sarah and all of her glorious assets grinding so deliciously against me, trying to melt my damn brain.

Her question loomed larger than life in my head, but there was no way in hell I could give it serious thought while she was gazing at me through half-lidded eyes, her cheeks flushing scarlet and her body undulating against mine. Still, she was waiting for an answer—wasn't she? I had to say something, anything, before she caused me to lose complete control of my faculties. And that, I reminded myself sternly, would be a travesty, given our current predicament. We were in a public park late at night, as zero hour drew near. My life and her career were on the line. As much as I'd dreamed of being with her this way, we had to stop this before it went too far.

"Sarah," I protested reluctantly as she pressed kisses along my jawline, "I'm not so sure…"

But I never got a chance to finish the sentence.

Fisting the curls at the nape of my neck, she tugged my head back, lowering her lips to mine, swallowing whatever I'd intended to say. And then—for the second time in my life—Sarah Walker kissed me with everything she had.

I'd thought our scorching kiss on the docks had been incredible—that there was no way to top it. How wrong I'd been. Because if that kiss had been hot, then this … this was incendiary. Her hair fell down around my face, the silken strands creating a golden curtain blocking out the world. The tips of her breasts brushed against my chest as she moved against me. And when I tightened my grip on her hips, eliminating the last vestige of space between us, I heard her moan low in her throat.

Her hand went to my sweatshirt, tugging it upward. Then her fingers slid across my abs and up to my chest, her touch reverent. She tasted like strawberry lip gloss and spearmint, and felt like every impossible, incredible fantasy I'd ever entertained.

To hell with the park, I decided. To hell with my life and her career, too. I returned the favor, easing my hand carefully, hesitantly, up from her waist, across her ribs. I half-expected her to slap my fingers away, but instead she leaned in, the softness of her breast filling my palm. Beneath it, I could feel her heart pounding, as if this meant as much to her as it did to me. That wicked, agile hand of hers slipped lower and lower, skimming back over my abs, making an unmistakable beeline for the waistband of my sweatpants.

Part of me wanted nothing more than to lay her down in the grass and let events take their natural course. But the alarm that must've belonged to my conscience—the tiny part of my higher functions still operating—blared, ear-splittingly loud. Danger, Will Robinson, it said. Danger.

Apparently, even during the most erotic moment of my life, I was still an uber-nerd.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Sarah … we have to slow down," I begged, even as my body protested, wanting to give my traitorous mind a bitch-slap for suggesting such a terrible idea. I settled my hands on her waist again, in a desperate effort to convince her—and myself—I meant what I said.

She pulled back, but only to nibble her way down my throat, her tongue following the path her teeth had taken moments before. Which … definitely wasn't helping matters.

"Sarah," I tried again, doing my best not to think about the way her body aligned so perfectly with mine, or the euphoric feel of her lips ghosting over my skin. "I can't believe I'm about to say this, but we need to put the brakes on this runaway freight train before it flies off the tracks—prematurely, I might add."

That time, she heard me. Her head came up, and she gave me a salacious grin. "But where's the fun in that, Chuck?" As if to prove her point, her fingertips breached the elastic barrier at my waistline.

Oh, dear God!

If I needed any further evidence that this evening had passed from the ridiculous to the totally sublime, this was it. "Don't get me wrong," I tried to assure her as I grabbed her wrist, arresting her hand's descent—and hating myself for doing it. "I love what we're doing. Obviously. I'm a guy—we come with built-in lie detectors when it comes to this kind of thing."

Her lips curled upward in a coquettish, playful smile, showing me yet another side of Sarah Walker I'd never seen before. It was flat-out adorable and caused me to fall even harder, as if I didn't have enough reasons. "Oh, I noticed," she purred.

I could feel myself blushing fire-engine red, and from the way her smile widened, I was sure she could see it, too. Bravely, I soldiered on. "Much as I, uh, hate to, um, say it," I stammered, "we still have things we need to figure out before you make my head explode."

Jesus Christ on a cracker, had I really said that? Yes, apparently I had. That was me—an equal opportunity auto-generator of double-entendre-infested awkwardness. There was no taking it back, either. Was it too much to hope she wouldn't notice?

Sarah's body stilled, but her eyes sparkled with mischief. She leaned forward to whisper in my ear in the most seductive voice I'd ever heard. "That's kinda the point, Chuck," she said, popping the k.

This woman was either going to be the death of me or make every dream I'd ever had come true. Maybe both at the same time. "Be that as it may," I deflected, blushing harder than ever, "I still feel we need to stay on track and, um, look at the big picture here, before we get too carried away."

"And which picture are you referring to?" Sarah asked, taking mercy on my overwrought libido by lacing her fingers behind my neck and leaning away an inch or two, giving us at least a modicum of physical space.

"Our future," I countered.

That did it. The smile faded, the sparkle in her eyes sharpening into the laser-sharp focus I recognized from our missions together. "Okay. Then let's hear your thoughts."

"If we ran," I began, returning the favor by linking my hands around the small of her back, "you'd be what—a rogue agent, guilty of committing treason? And I'd end up being the most sought-after intelligence asset in our government's history. Not to mention their enemies, who'd also love to get their hands on me. What kind of life is that?"

"I've run before," Sarah argued, skimming her fingers through my hair. Her nails grazed my scalp, sending a shiver down my spine. "We'd make it work."

She'd run before? From what? With who? The more I found out about Sarah Walker, the woman behind the badge, the more questions I had. With an effort, I stopped myself from asking any of them—at least, for now. We had bigger fish to fry.

"You've run," I pointed out, a delicate emphasis on the first word. "But no matter how much I care about you—and I do, Sarah, more than you can possibly imagine—I have a family to think about. And if you're truly in this for the long haul, then so do you." Ellie would forgive her, somehow. I would make sure of it.

Her mouth had opened, as if to utter a snappy retort. But at my last four words, it snapped shut again. In the haze of the coming dawn, her face softened and her eyes pooled with unshed tears.

She wanted that, I realized. It meant something to her. Not just being with me—but the idea of belonging somewhere with people who cared about her and who she cared for in return. Sarah Walker, CIA agent extraordinaire, wanted a home … with me.

"Maybe you and I could figure out a way to be safe," I went on, doing my best to absorb this revelation, "but we'd be leaving Ellie, Devon, Morgan, and everyone else in danger. There's got to be a better way."

"I wish there was, Chuck. Believe me. I want what you want. But there isn't another way that'll ensure your safety." She cleared her throat, as if gearing herself up. "We run now, or they get you another handler, I'm off on assignment with Bryce, and your life is on the line the moment the new Intersect is activated. We can't trust Graham and Beckman not to do the unthinkable once it's online. I know how they think and I don't want to lose you, Chuck. I can't."

Listening to her confirm my worst fears was like being doused with ice-cold water, while doing pushups in the Klondike. But as I watched fresh tears spill down her face, my resolve strengthened.

Forget about a little night swimming, nibbling around for morsels to consume. Piranha was going to war with every intent of picking their bones clean.

"Look, Sarah," I said, my hands framing her face as I brushed her tears away, "earlier tonight, I made a decision to start fighting back, as I'm sure you noticed. Casey's wasting his time performing diagnostics on his system. It was mine to control within minutes of deciding I'd had enough. And trust me. Audio issues are gonna be the least of their problems once I'm done. They picked the wrong nerd to push around."

She raised a questioning eyebrow, freeing one hand to gesture for me to continue. After a moment, I did so, choosing my next words with care. "I have some skills no one knows about. Skills that should allow us to gain leverage over Graham and Beckman while finding out who created this damn thing they shoved in my head. And once I do, I'm going to convince them, whoever they are, through whatever means, to help remove it so I can have the kind of life I want with the woman I love."

Sarah gasped, her eyes shimmering like pixie dust in the coming light. And then she leaned in to kiss me again. Gone was the scorching heat from before, replaced by a tenderness that took my breath away. As the seconds ticked by, her lips moving so slowly, exploring every bit of mine, I was fairly certain she was telling me the same. As unbelievable as it seemed, Sarah Walker loved me too.

I was the one who'd pulled away earlier—but Sarah broke our kiss this time, tucking her head under my chin. "Chuck, I know how good you are with technology," she acknowledged, her tone edged with warning, "but you need to be careful. These are very dangerous people."

"Trust me, Sarah. I know. But in my world, I'm the Director. The only difference is … Piranha uses bits and bytes, not bombs and bullets. It may not sound as dangerous, but like my alter ego, it has teeth."

Sarah jerked back, wide-eyed. "Holy shit, Chuck." Her hands slipped away, rising to cover her mouth. Above her fingers, her eyes bored into mine. Her gaze was penetrating, as if trying to discern whether I was messing with her or flat-out lying. I stared back at her, for once feeling confident and calm. A long, tense moment passed as she evaluated me. At last she dropped her hands, a look of unbridled awe and wonder sweeping over her face. She didn't say a word, and I realized I'd accomplished what I'd thought was impossible: I'd impressed and shocked Sarah Walker.

After everything I'd been through in the past few months—all the times I'd been underestimated and devalued—her reaction was gratifying. "I take it you've heard the name before?"

"Just rumors, really," Sarah said, reclaiming my hands. "He was on the NSA's cybersecurity division's top ten a while back. Then he fell off their radar. They assumed he was dead."

"Probably around seven years ago?" I asked, fighting the urge to smirk.

She peered at me, her eyebrows knitting. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

"That's when I decided to go cold turkey," I admitted. "I had too much to lose, but now, after all of this, I have everything to gain."

Sarah's lower lip trembled, and she reached up to touch my face, sweeping a curl out of my eyes. "And you trusted me enough to tell me?"

"With my life, Sarah," I paused, giving her a pointed look, "as well as my heart."

"Thank you, Chuck." A tear slipped down her face again, but this time she was smiling. "You'll never know how much that trust means to me, especially after everything I've put you through—and I promise to be worthy of it."

She slipped back into my embrace while birdsong filled the night air, marking the coming day. The blackened sky began to take on lighter hues at its edges, the brightness swallowing the stars as it grew. Morning dew settled over the park as traffic picked up, early-bird commuters bustling to make their way to work. Heaving a heavy sigh, Sarah glanced at her watch.

"I'm sorry, Chuck, but if we're not choosing to run away, that only leaves us one option. As much as it pains me to say this, I'll need to meet up with Bryce soon, or he might reach out to Graham and cause us even more grief."

With a heavy heart, I nodded my accord and stood, bringing Sarah with me. Seized by a spur-of-the-moment whim, I lifted her and spun her, watching the breeze ruffle her hair. She squealed with delight as she wrapped her legs around my waist, a huge grin suffusing her beautiful face. Releasing my grip, I let her slide back to earth, bringing everything full circle. Our time in the park had come to an end.

We walked side by side back to my apartment in contemplative silence, our hands still linked. But there was one last thing that needed to be addressed.

"Sarah?" I said, looking down at her as we walked through the wrought-iron gates of the courtyard.

"Hmm?"

"No more secrets. And no more lies. Not between us—okay?"

At first, she didn't reply, and I worried that somehow I'd gone too far. I slowed as we passed the fountain, thinking that was where we'd have to leave each other, but Sarah kept walking, tugging me along until we stepped through the window to my bedroom. Once we were safely inside, she spun around, claiming both of my hands, an anxious look on her face.

"No more secrets. No more lies," she repeated. "But please be patient with me, Chuck. I promise to tell you everything … eventually. I will. I just need some time to deprogram a decade's worth of training and guilt. But you have my word—I'll never keep anything from you again."

God. I could be such an ass sometimes. "Please … take all the time you need. I take everything you tell me as a gift—not a requirement. I just want whatever's between us to be the truth."

"I want that, too. I'm sick and tired of all the lies." Her shoulders relaxed, a smile lifting her lips as I walked over to my computer to ensure the surveillance was still off. After a few keystrokes, I could see Casey's diagnostic program parsing through the access control lists of his firewall, looking for discrepancies. I almost felt sorry for him. Oh, well.

I spun back around, took a deep breath, and let my inner spiral unfurl. "I'm glad to hear you feel that way, because I'm telling Ellie everything. The Intersect; how I got it from Bryce; Graham and Beckman's roles; who Casey is; the Fulcrum threat; what happened between us tonight, and what we plan to do. All of it. She's my sister, Sarah—the only family I have left. Everyone around me is in the line of fire—especially her. And she's a neurosurgeon, for shit's sake. She might be able to help. But that part—it doesn't even matter. I'm sick of hiding things from her, and I just thought you should know."

I sucked in some much-needed oxygen and held it, afraid of what she might say. But for what felt like the thousandth time tonight, she surprised me. "Of course you should tell her. She's the second-smartest person I know and she can handle it. You'll need to be careful about where you tell her, but she deserves to know everything. I'm sorry you've had to lie to her." She bit her lip. "But do me a favor? Please tell her how sorry I am to have caused her any pain and that … I'll miss her."

My heart sank when I saw the pain on Sarah's face. It was on the top of my list to help foster the healing process between her and Ellie as soon as possible. If this was going to work between the two of us—if Sarah might even be a part of my family one day—she and my sister couldn't be at odds. After I told Ellie everything, I'd work on getting her to forgive Sarah. Ellie could be tough sometimes, but hopefully when she understood how much this meant to me, she'd see reason.

I shoved my hands in the pockets of my sweats, looking down at the scuff marks on my favorite Chucks. When I spoke, my voice was smaller than I intended. "I'll tell her, I promise. But … after tonight, when will I hear from you again?"

Sarah stepped closer and placed her hands on my chest, determination clear in her voice. "As soon as I've figured out a secure way. It'll be my top priority."

Finally, something I felt equipped to solve. "If that's the issue, I have it covered. Here." I held out my hand. "Give me your phone."

She dug into her pocket and placed her phone in my palm. It felt odd to show her this side of myself—but she might as well get a taste of what I was capable of. Bypassing her lock screen, I opened up a web browser and got to work.

When I handed her phone back a few minutes later, her home screen featured a new app. "That's an encrypted, end-to-end instant messenger and videotelephony application I created at Stanford. I've linked it to the same application on my phone. No one else in the world has this software and it's as secure as we'll ever need. Trust me."

Sarah pocketed her phone, her eyes wide with newfound respect. "I do trust you, Chuck. Implicitly. I'll contact you as soon as I can."

"Okay." It was horribly inadequate, but there was nothing I could say that captured the dread I suddenly felt at being apart from her. "Please be careful."

"I will, Chuck. You too." She bit her lip, looking suddenly small and timid. I imagined her as a little girl, only wanting a place to belong. How had any of this been her fault? All she'd ever wanted was for someone to care for and to love her in return. At least I'd had Ellie. Who did she have?

She had me now, I told myself fiercely. And as long as she wanted me, I would never let her go—except right now, I had to do just that.

"Goodbye, Sarah," I croaked, my throat sandpaper-dry.

Tears glistened in her eyes, making my chest hurt with an ache so visceral, it felt like my heart was being cleaved in two. As I watched, they spilled over, tracking their way down her cheeks. For what I hoped would be the last time tonight, I moved to brush them away—but she caught my hand and pulled me down to her. Then her lips were on mine, with the bittersweet taste of salt and strawberries. She twined her hands in my hair and held me close, standing on her tiptoes to reach me. Her breasts were a soft weight against my chest, her body warm against mine as I wrapped my arms around her and sealed my mouth over hers. There was an edge of desperation to the kiss, as if we were both trying to memorize each other's touch, to save it until we could be together again. For an instant, I let myself fantasize about what it would've been like if I'd agreed to run away with her. I knew it was a horrible idea, and yet the thought of giving up the chance to be with her like this, of letting her walk away … it almost broke me.

Sarah's mouth stilled beneath mine, and she stepped away first, sniffling. In an effort to pull myself together, I traced a finger down her cheekbone, following the path of her tears. "This," I said, struggling to regain my focus, "is so unfair."

Her mouth lifted in a rueful smile. "All's fair, Chuck," she countered, going on tiptoes to kiss me one last time. Then—for no reason I could fathom—she walked over to my hamper, opened the lid, and rummaged through it.

"Sarah," I said, bewildered, "what are you—"

Before I could finish speaking, she pulled out a Union Jack t-shirt I'd worn a few days before. Blushing furiously, she turned and held up the shirt. "A bit of home while I'm away," she said shyly, pulling it to her chest. "You don't mind, do you?"

She was sifting through my dirty clothes hamper for something to take with her while she was gone—something that smelled like me, to remind her of our time together … and she wanted to know if I minded? Picturing her wearing my shirt and nothing else, I shook my head emphatically.

Sarah gave me one last smile. Then, for the second time that night, she stepped through my window—much more gracefully this time. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she turned, her hands braced on the window's casing, and leaned into my room.

"Lisa," she said.

Was that meant to be some kind of secret code? More confused than ever, I stared at her. "Excuse me?"

"My middle name," she said, cocking a brow. "It's Lisa."

She must've been pretty pleased by the shocked look on my face, because hers lit up like the rising sun. She blew me a final kiss and turned in earnest, making her way out of the courtyard. Before she passed through the gate, she looked over her shoulder one last time … and then she was gone.

As I watched her go, shafts of sunlight broke through the gaps in the trees—a reminder, I told myself, that a new day had dawned, full of possibility. After all, Sarah Walker was the top agent the CIA had to offer. And I was one of the best hackers on the planet, with a one-of-a kind supercomputer lodged in my brain as an added bonus. We made a formidable team. If anyone could find a way to come out of this whole mess intact and prosperous, it was us.

For the first time since Stanford, I felt something that used to make me alight with joy. Something that had once made me fight tooth and nail to achieve my wildest dreams. Something that gave me the confidence to know I could do anything I set my heart on.

Hope for the future.

A/N #2: I know some of you will think I've let Sarah off the hook too easily here, with Chuck accepting her apology as quickly as he did. So I thought I'd try to address at least some of your concerns … hopefully. In the show, Sarah never apologized. It took three freakin' years for her to come to terms with her feelings and let Chuck know he wasn't alone in how he felt. And even then it was lackluster at best, in my opinion. In this instance, she had to come to those same terms over a few heart-wrenching hours, or she'd lose him forever. And I have to say, at least in comparison with the show, she did it in grand fashion.

From Chuck's POV, he had to weigh her normal reticence for divulging practically anything, with the onslaught of information he'd been waiting months to hear. He also had to realize that she was self-admittedly emotionally stunted. She'd never been so honest about her true feelings before—or so vulnerable. For her to overcome what had to have been terrifying for her, and not only tell him how she felt, but give him the choice of how to proceed—including walking away from everything she'd ever known … in my opinion, he would've been a fool not to accept her offer, given how in love with her he was supposed to be. And let's face it—his forgiveness is one of the reasons we all love him as much as we do.

Finally, how long should Chuck have held a grudge about someone he'd never truly dated, kissing her ex-boyfriend? Yes, she knew he had feelings for her, and yes, the kiss took place in his bedroom. But in reality, Chuck had no claim on Sarah. Only after a conversation like the one they just shared, when they were both honest about their feelings for each other, would he have grounds to object if—God forbid—he came upon her in a compromising position with the dreaded Bryce Larkin again.

A/N #3: Please take a moment to leave a quick review. They mean the world to me. And don't forget to hit that Follow and Favorite button. Those numbers count just as much, if not more.

Take care,

SmatterChoo…