It's late November 2003, and Agent Sarah Walker has been summoned to a meeting with CIA Director Graham. The CATS have just been disbanded, and Sarah hopes that this discussion will be the beginning of her career as an autonomous agent with more responsibilities—after all, hasn't she proven herself? But when she arrives in Graham's office, she discovers that he has something very different in mind … a mission that will lead her to question everything she thought she knew about herself, and compel her to choose between fulfilling her duty and following her heart.

Disclaimer: We don't own Chuck…

Chapter 3: Fallen

I tried to stay composed, feigning cool detachment … but after Chuck touched my hand, an unfamiliar yet powerful sensation swept over me, consuming me as surely as a forest fire in dry season. The rest of my world became an unimportant blur, banished into the far recesses of my mind. The only thing that mattered was the thought of him touching me again … kissing my mouth, my neck, my … everything. I'd never felt like this. My hand tingled and my heart beat erratically, so hard that I thought it might actually pop like a bubble. I was trapped within a kaleidoscope of butterflies, my stomach doing somersaults … but it felt good. Really good.

Chuck's gaze wandered around the room, unable or unwilling to hold my own for more than a few seconds. I remembered what Bryce had said about how uncomfortable he felt around pretty women. And I usually didn't get self-conscious around men, but Chuck was different, somehow. My body hummed deliciously when I saw his crooked smile for the first time, and I found myself wishing I'd showered and changed when I'd gotten off the plane.

I finally had to admit to myself what I'd known since I saw his picture in Graham's office, but had been too afraid to acknowledge: I was drawn to him, for reasons I couldn't totally explain. And against the ridiculous odds I'd just placed in front of us, I desperately wanted to be with him. I'd never so much as held a meaningful conversation with the guy, and on paper, we had nothing in common. I was a spy; he was a tech guru working a job far beneath his skill set. I was wary and paranoid; he was compassionate and giving. I had no family, unless you counted a mother I didn't speak to and a father who was behind bars; he had a sister who was as fiercely protective of him as a mother lioness. But for some reason, when I looked into his eyes, I saw the other half of myself. I saw my home.

But it was too late, wasn't it? I couldn't unring that bell. The trap had already been set, the pieces aligned just so. A vise wrapped around my heart, squeezing as it ratcheted down inch by painful inch.

After a moment, Chuck sat down at the table, declining Ellie's offer of tea and regaling us with hilarious yet bizarre stories from what he lovingly referred to as the Nation-State of Buy-Moria. It took me a minute to realize this must be the store where he worked—the Buy More, according to the dossier Graham had given me. Bryce was right, Chuck had a biting sense of humor … but the more he talked, the more furious I became that Bryce had derailed his education and, by extension, his career. He was wasted at the helpdesk of a big box store like that. He could've headed a team at Apple or Google, or hell … started his own business. The CIA had interfered with his life once too often, and here I was … the snake in the grass that had wriggled its way into his house, pretending to be his lonely, innocent next-door neighbor. I hated Bryce for screwing with Chuck's life that way—and I hated myself even more, for trying to do it again.

"Sarah? Are you okay?" Ellie's hand was warm on my forearm. "You look like something's bothering you."

Damn. I usually had a better poker face than this. "I'm sorry," I said, forcing myself to smile at her. "I'm just tired from the flight. I only got in a couple of hours ago."

"Of course. And then there's the time difference to think about. Sarah just moved here from DC," Ellie told her brother, tactfully omitting my supposed reason for fleeing across the country. "We won't keep you. I know you still have your grocery run to make. There's a Whole Foods that's not too far from here, if that helps."

"That sounds perfect," I said, pushing to my feet. "Thanks so much for inviting me over—and for the invitation to Thanksgiving, too. What can I bring? I can't say I'm much of a cook, but I can pick up a couple bottles of wine, if that works for you."

"Oh, you and my sister are gonna get along just fine," Chuck said, grinning at me as Ellie cuffed him on the back of the head.

"I hope so," I said, truthfully. "And I really do hate that I have to run, but after my shopping spree, I should probably eat something and try and catch up on some sleep."

In reality, I needed sanctuary—a place to escape their ruthless assault on my overloaded senses. Every time they looked at me, I felt as if I might actually burst into flames. The shame was suffocating. It was crazy, but after encountering Chuck face-to-face, I couldn't help but feel like I'd just thrown away something precious—a chance that came but once in a lifetime. The shy smile he gave me as I edged my way towards the door tore at my heart.

It wasn't just Chuck, either. Meeting both of the Bartowskis, feeling so connected to them, and knowing what I had to do next—that my goal was to worm my way into their lives, only to betray them both—felt like a cruel joke. The despair was a heady blackness, seeping through every part of my body like spilled ink.

Tears filled my eyes as we said our goodbyes and Ellie shut the door of their apartment behind me. I paused by the fountain, hoping the sound of the flowing water would soothe my heartache. Through my blurred vision, I saw hundreds of coins at the bottom of the basin—some green with age while others had that freshly-minted shimmer. I glanced down at them through the clear water—each one a heartfelt wish or prayer. Each one represented pain … but also hope.

Digging a hand into my pocket, I pulled out a penny, the smallest change I had, and tossed it in, watching it sink, joining the others. "For him to catch me as I fall," I whispered, mindful of the courtyard's surveillance, feeling ridiculous even as the words left my mouth. How could Chuck be my safety net when I was taking him down with me?

I stood still, listening to the water slosh into the fountain's basin, wishing things were different. Maybe, in some alternate universe, things could've worked out between us. Bryce would find a way to lure Orion out of the shadows that didn't involve using me as bait. Ellie would become the best friend I'd ever had. And the love I'd seen in Chuck's eyes when he looked at his sister … he would look at me that way, and I … I would return the favor.

It was a pipe dream, meant for someone who hadn't grown up to lie and scheme and connive. Someone normal. Someone good. But as I gazed into the shallow water of the fountain, I allowed myself to believe in it, just for a minute. After all, we all needed hope to survive, even if it was just pennies in a wishing well.

OoOoOoOoO

The next morning, I made my way over to Maison23 to meet with Bryce and go over our mission's sitrep, as planned. I wasn't looking forward to the debriefing, but I couldn't beat back the coming dawn any more than I could the rising tides. For Bryce as well as the watchful eyes back at Langley, last night must've looked like a rousing success—a textbook demonstration of manipulation and spycraft, deploying all that I'd learned over the past four years. In truth, I'd never felt like more of a failure. I was exhausted, shamed by the kindness of total strangers who were supposed to be nothing more than quarry in my crosshairs. Falling asleep last night had been a pointless endeavor as I'd tossed and turned, my duty as an operative warring with my guilt-ridden conscience. My very soul felt heavy as I drove toward Larkin's apartment, about to collapse under the weight.

My knuckles hovered a mosquito's breath away from the kelly-green door of his apartment, reluctant to make contact. Bryce Larkin was on the other side and I wasn't sure I had it in me to deal with the likes of him, especially after last night. He represented the antithesis of everything I had put into that wish by the fountain, the counterpoint to Chuck Bartowski. In retrospect, maybe Bryce was the person I deserved to be partnered with for my involvement in is this type of treachery. Someone proficient in the art of the double-cross. A true virtuoso—especially when it came to screwing over his ex-roommate and supposed friend. Graham must've thought I could learn from his example.

Let the lessons begin.

As soon as I knocked, I heard frantic muffled voices, one of which sounded way too feminine to belong to Bryce.

Unbelievable.

The door swung open after a tick, and a disheveled-looking leggy blonde—who bore an uncanny resemblance to myself—stepped out of his room, shooting daggers back at Bryce. She looked up, caught sight of me … and went ballistic.

"Who the fuck are you?" she snarled, her blue eyes gone to slits. I half-expected her to start foaming at the mouth.

Well, Bryce wasn't the only person that could dish out the lessons. He needed to learn that if he was going to be a reckless idiot while playing in the big leagues, he'd face the consequences when he got caught doing something stupid. What was he thinking, bringing a girl up here when he was supposed to be maintaining a low profile?

The temperature in the hallway plummeted as I gave the little tramp my coldest stare, crossing my arms over my chest. "I'm his wife, you hussy," I said, barely holding in the mirth I felt for throwing a monkey wrench into Bryce's plans. "What the hell are you doing in my husband's room?"

"Wife?" she said, wide-eyed, spinning to face Bryce. "You never said you were married."

"Tiffany … I can explain," Bryce said from inside the room. His plea fell on deaf ears.

"You asshole," she screamed, and tore off down the hallway, heading for the elevators.

I slipped inside his room, closing the door behind me, and found Bryce sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. He looked up, exasperation lining his face.

"Was that really necessary? You're early, after all. You could've at least called to warn me. Hell … a text message would've been enough."

Warn him? He couldn't be serious.

"I'm only ten minutes early and you should've known better than to have someone up here in the first place. You're gonna end up blowing this whole operation because you can't keep it in your pants."

"If I didn't know better, Agent Walker," Bryce said, "I'd say you were jealous."

What an egotistical prick. "Of Tiffany? Please. The only thing to be jealous about is her current proximity to you. Where did you find her anyway … a strip club?" His dejected face spoke volumes. "Never mind … I don't want to know. Let's just get started. I shouldn't be here any longer than I have to, and this God-awful room is starting to make me feel queasy," I gave him a pointed look, a single eyebrow finding its mark, "on many levels."

I wasn't exaggerating, either. I'd never seen so much green mixed with silver in my life. It was like the designer's muse was a cross between a drunken leprechaun and Liberace's wet dreams. Thank God, this mission didn't require me to stay here as well.

Bryce huffed out a breath, stood, and walked over to his computer system, which was identical to mine. A file folder rested on the edge of the desk.

"Here … this came by courier last night," he said, handing me the folder. "It's more intel on Chuck. The analysts back at Langley were able to comb through his cloned hard drive. They didn't find any ties to Orion, but they did find some software Chuck's been working on that completely blew them away. They'd never seen anything so advanced. An antivirus program and the start of his own search engine. It even caught Graham's eye. He sends his compliments, by the way, about your performance last night. I'll admit, it was really impressive. Ten minutes with you and Chuck's already snagged on your hook. You just need to reel him in."

Now I was confused. We'd had an enjoyable conversation, sure … but I'd felt like I was more on his hook by the time I left. "I'm not that confident, Bryce," I said, meaning every word. "I just met him."

"Are you kidding me?" he said, his bewilderment apparent. "I've never heard him speak that way about anyone."

Now I was sure I was lacking some vital piece of information. "I'm sorry … but you have me at a loss. What am I missing here?"

"I take it you haven't reviewed the surveillance footage from after you left their apartment?" The smug bastard was clearly enjoying my ignorance.

I shook my head. "No, I was exhausted by the time I got home and went straight to bed." Truthfully, I didn't have it in me to intrude into their private lives any more than I already had. I felt dirty enough as it was.

"Trust me," he said, as if that was a remote possibility, "you'll want to watch the whole thing. I almost feel sorry for the guy. It was even worse than when he met Jill."

Of all the hot-button issues Bryce could have referenced at that moment, Jill—and particularly, what Bryce had done with her—was the hottest.

"Tell me, Bryce. Call it morbid curiosity, but did you sleep with Jill out of spite or was it because you'd already figured out Chuck was ten times the man you'd ever be and you wanted to completely destroy him for it?" When he opened his mouth to respond, I held up my hand. "Don't bother … it was a rhetorical question."

I threw the file folder in his lap. "You can keep the additional intel on Chuck. I'm sure he has everything I'll ever need." My eyes went wide as I realized, belatedly, that the last sentence was as true as any I'd ever spoken.

Spinning on my heel, I stormed out of Bryce's apartment, slamming his door behind me.

OoOoOoOoO

By the time I got home, I could barely contain myself. What could Chuck have possibly said that had left such an impression on Bryce—and Graham, too, for that matter? Consumed by curiosity, I jerked open the front door, ran to my bedroom, and tried to wake the computer. To my utter annoyance, the Windows 'Automatic Update' box hovered at around 33%. Oh, come on. Now, of all times?

Pacing the room, running my hands through my hair, I waited impatiently as the progress bar crept across the screen. It took an eternity. Finally, the mother of all updates was complete and I logged in, holding my breath.

My hands shook as I opened the recordings folder, found last night's footage, and hit play—fast-forwarding until the moment I'd left. Turning up the volume, I leaned forward, captivated.

On the screen, Chuck got up from the dining room table and walked into the kitchen with Ellie in his wake. Wordlessly, he started washing the dishes left in the sink while Ellie finished putting away the groceries. I zoomed in to get a better look. Every few seconds, Ellie glanced over at Chuck, who seemed to be lost in thought. Her lips twitched in a teasing smile. I peered closer. She actually looked like … was she vibrating?

"You know, Chuck," Ellie said, breaking the silence, "she really is perfect for you, don't you think?" The intensity of the vibrations increased ten-fold while she waited for his reply.

Wait—seriously? Hyper-protective Ellie thought I was perfect for her brother? Warmth washed through me, until I realized that most of what she knew about me was a lie. Maybe she thought I was perfect for him because we were both good people who'd been victimized—sheep who'd been attacked by wolves. The problem was, I was the wolf in this scenario … the predator they'd let into their home. A sick feeling settled in my stomach as I waited for Chuck to respond.

"Yeah," he said after a long moment, his voice soft. "She's perfect."

Great. Chuck thought I was perfect, too—but he was only responding to the same packaging that had ensnared so many unsuspecting marks over the past four years. My face, my body … they were the lure that Graham wanted me to use to draw Chuck in. If Chuck saw the real me, the ugliness that came from doing this job and the life I'd led, he wouldn't want anything to do with me. I felt like a walking version of Dorian Gray's self-portrait … except the scarred version of my soul lived inside me, invisible to everyone but myself.

The smile spread across Ellie's face until she glowed with happiness. "Aha! I knew it." She jumped up and down, clapping her hands. I knew what she must be thinking … the pretty, single neighbor; her kind, smart, single brother; a match made in heaven. My guilt grew, oppressive and unyielding.

Chuck sighed, leaning against the counter. "Knew what?" he said, looking exasperated—and maybe a little embarrassed, too. "What are you even talking about?"

"Sarah, of course," Ellie said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You've got it bad, little brother. I can see it in your eyes. And you know what? I could see it in hers too. This is so great."

No, it wasn't. It was awful. I'd done my job, all right—and following orders had never made me feel so miserable. She thought I was perfect for her little brother. I'd obviously gotten his attention, too. And apparently, everything I'd felt for him in the brief time we'd been in the same room had shown on my face. Thank God, Graham and Bryce thought I'd been acting, playing a scripted part. But I knew better, and I was disgusted with myself.

On the screen, Chuck shook his head. "Stop being ridiculous, sis. You're not helping." He turned back to the sink, picking up the dish he'd been drying.

"How am I being ridiculous? I'm just telling you what I saw."

Chuck's shoulders tensed, a steel wire stretched, about to snap. "I said stop it, Ellie." His voice had a warning edge.

I couldn't blame him. I wanted her to stop it, too … though for entirely different reasons. Why did Chuck want her to knock it off? He seemed far more uncomfortable than the situation warranted.

Ellie stepped up beside Chuck at the sink, leaning over to look at his profile. Whatever she saw must have troubled her, because her tone softened. "Fine … I'll drop it if you answer one question for me."

He turned off the water, giving his sister his full attention. "As long as you promise to quit teasing me."

Ah—so maybe that was it? He thought she was joking about what she'd seen in my eyes … because he thought I couldn't possibly want to date him. What had Bryce said … that compared to the two of us, Chuck was a loser? Apparently, Chuck shared his opinion—and now I felt worse than ever. The only guy I'd ever been interested in, and here I was, using him as a pawn.

I couldn't keep going in circles this way. Maybe there was something I could do to salvage the situation. I couldn't back out of the mission, but at least I could make the time I spent with Chuck mean something. I could get to know him, be honest with him about what an amazing person he was and the gifts I knew he could offer the world. It sounded cheesy, but maybe I could help to restore his faith in himself. Spending time with him would be its own reward.

The resolution strengthened, a spark fanning into a flame. I realized now that the wish I'd made yesterday—for him to catch me as I fall—had been selfish. I might've been falling for him, but Chuck was the one who'd already fallen. He'd lost his parents, his degree, and his career. I should have wished for something else entirely—for me to have the strength to lift him up, no matter what it cost me.

"What did you think when you first saw her?" Ellie said. "And be honest with me, Chuck. You know I can always tell when you're holding something back."

Chuck's head dropped as he clung to the edge of the sink with a white-knuckled grip. Even through the monitors, I could see that he was struggling with something. He pushed back with a huff and walked out of the kitchen.

I changed the camera feed to the living room and got a good look at his face. Anguish was written all over it. What in the world?

Ellie followed him, stopping a few feet away. "Talk to me, Chuck." Worry etched lines in her forehead. "What's wrong? This isn't about 'She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,' is it?"

Bullseye.

Chuck deflated, like someone had let the air out of his body. He dropped into the recliner, elbows on his knees, face in his hands. After a moment, he scrubbed his palms over his cheeks and looked up, as if collecting his thoughts.

"Yes … and no," he said. "You asked me what I thought when I first saw her. The simple version—my superficial reaction—was that I'd just met … an angel. She's the most exquisite woman I've ever seen. No one else has even come close. Hell … I was afraid to look directly at her, Ellie. It was like looking into the heart of the sun."

The passion in his voice, the conviction in his eyes … it floored me. No one had ever said anything like this about me before. They'd whistled at me when I walked by, wanted to sleep with me … but none of them had ever compared me to an angel or a star. Not to mention, this was the way I felt about Chuck, not the other way around. I stared at the monitor, stunned.

"I knew it." Ellie's voice was heavy with conviction.

"But it was more than that. She had elegance and grace and intelligence." The words came faster now, as if once he'd started speaking, he couldn't hold them back. "You were right, sis … she is perfect … and that's the problem and why you really need to drop this and move on. I know you, though. You're gonna keep pushing and pushing, but I'm telling you, it's pointless."

"What are you talking about?" Her eyebrows knitted in puzzlement. "She's perfect, so it's pointless? For someone who aced his Propositional Logic class at Stanford, you're surprisingly terrible at drawing conclusions."

He slumped, his whole body telegraphing dejection. "Ever since Jill, I've come to realize that happiness is for someone who doesn't indulge in flights of fancy—who isn't the gullible dweeb that gets stabbed in the back by his best friend and cheated on by the girl he loves … loved." The misery in his voice wrecked me. "I just can't do it. I can't be the guy that takes those kinds of chances anymore. I had my head in the clouds once too often. I can't afford to do it again. I'm just a nerd in a dead-end job making ten dollars an hour. What could I possibly offer someone as remarkable as Sarah?"

The irony in this situation was too thick to cut with one of my knives. He'd convinced himself he wasn't good enough for me, whereas I was the one who'd perpetrated an elaborate fiction to earn my seat at his Thanksgiving table. I'd thought I couldn't feel any worse about the situation … but I'd been wrong. My determination to fix what Bryce and the CIA had done to him grew even stronger. I would do whatever I could to make things right.

Ellie rounded the chair and crouched down in front of Chuck, her hands on his knees. "Charles Irving Bartowski," she said, her voice fierce, "let me tell you a story. There's this guy I'm quite fond of that you annoyingly refer to as Captain Awesome no matter how many times I've asked you not to. He's handsome and brilliant and kind and treats me like a princess. Any girl would be lucky to have him in their lives, and I count my blessings every day that I was fortunate to capture his heart. We have something real and to me … he's the one." She squeezed Chuck's knee. "Now some may say that I'm biased—that I lack the objectivity for the assertion I'm about to make. But I don't play to fools and I'm smarter than your average bear. So trust me when I say this … on Devon's best day, he'll never be half the man you are."

"Come on, Ellie. You have to say that. You're my sister."

"Sister or not," Ellie said, standing to make her point, "I'm not the only one who thinks so. I saw the look in that gorgeous blonde's eyes when you two met. I'm a woman, Chuck. I know these things. Even though you guys didn't have a chance to spend much time together, she's already smitten, just like you … or well on her way—crushing hard for my wonderfully nerdy little brother—I'm sure of it. And unlike that whore of Babylon that you sullied this house with when you brought her here, I really … really like Sarah. It bears repeating … she's perfect for you."

Wow. Graham must've done his repressed version of a happy dance when he'd heard that little speech. I could picture him folding his hands on that pristine desk of his, saying, "You've outdone yourself this time, Agent Walker. Perhaps you missed your calling as an actor." No wonder Bryce was over the moon.

"Just think about it, okay?" Ellie said, a wheedling tone in her voice. "She'll be here tomorrow night, so please keep an open mind and just talk to her? Her business is hers, but you have a lot more in common than you think. You've wallowed in grief for far too long for what those two lecherous trolls did to you."

Chuck snorted. "'Whore of Babylon'? 'Lecherous trolls'? Don't hold back, Ellie. Tell me what you really think."

"I just call 'em like I see 'em, little brother." She folded her arms across her chest and stared him down. "You can't let the past rob you of this opportunity, or any others that may come your way. There's something in my gut that tells me … she just might be the one for you. And you know how often my intuition about these kinds of things turns out to be right."

This was more than I'd bargained for, especially because I'd felt the same way. It wasn't possible that my soulmate would be a guy I'd been ordered to screw over, was it? Surely fate wouldn't be that cruel.

"You're not gonna let up, are you?" Chuck said, a wry grin quirking his lips.

"Nope." She popped the 'p,' and in that moment I was sure I could tell exactly what she'd looked like as a little kid—stubborn, headstrong, and unwilling to back off until she got her way.

"Fine," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'll keep an open mind … but I still think you're crazy."

I hit the 'pause' button, freezing the image of Chuck on the screen. Right now, it sounded like Chuck thought there was no reason to hope his life could change. I understood; so often, I'd felt the same way about my own existence. Maybe I could find a way to help him—find a way to undo some of the wrongs that had been perpetrated against him. I couldn't stand the idea of causing him more pain. Just the thought of being here as a means to Graham's end was starting to become unbearable.

But first I needed to grab a couple bottles of wine—since I'd been too shell-shocked to make it to the store last night—and then go shopping for a dress to wear to the first Thanksgiving dinner I'd attended since I was a little girl. I didn't want to taint the evening with anything the CIA had bought for me. The next time Chuck saw me, I would be wearing something I'd picked out myself, not an outfit that was part of the mission.

They were small steps, but important ones. And they gave me hope. If Chuck could change, then maybe I could too?

A smile playing at the edges of my lips, I slipped my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed Graham's number. "Ms. Stanwyck?" I said when his secretary answered. "It's Agent Sarah Walker, calling for Director Graham. Please tell him it's important."

A/N: We really appreciate the outpouring of support that we've received from the last few submissions. Please keep it up if you are so inclined. Words can't express what that kind of response does to our motivation to keep up the pace. Rest assured that we haven't forgotten about ASITHOC—we've already started on the next chapter—but as Emily gears up for the next phase in her treatment, we felt it easier to flesh out more of this story before alternating back and forth between the two.

A/N 2: Our next chapter—Thanks-Misgivings—should be a lot of fun, and will set the tone for the rest of the story. As some of you may have already figured out, this is not a spy adventure like our other fic. It's a narrative about an unlikely romance and we'll be treating it as such, so hang on to your hats (and your hearts).

As always, thanks for reading—and please keep your reviews, follows, and favorites coming our way! They really do make this all worthwhile.