Thanks for the great responses, and I understand your frustration. Let me explain more.

First the underlying concept is could Charina exist. In canon, they don't seem to be compatible at that level. So, in fanfic, people seem to change Carina, make her more Sarah like.

I thought what if it was Chuck who changed.

This is not action or intrigue. This is drama, exploring personalities and personal journeys.
Action and missions tends to happen off screen, and large periods of time we be jumped over and referred to as needed.

So this AU diverts after Chuck was offered the Rome assignment. Also circumstances, such as they are, never led to Other Guy and American hero, or Tic Tac, which occurs later in Season 3.

There are 2 main premises to this fic.

1 Chuck is a Human, not a Saint. He is a fallible human, imperfect, and capable of making big, stupid mistakes.

2 Chuck firmly believes, in his core, that he has to be a real spy to be with Sarah. She seems to prefer them, and he feels he will always be inadequate otherwise. Charles Carmichael is who he feels he must be. Ain't it a bitch that becoming a spy lost him Sarah.

A/N 2 I thought Thanksgiving was going to be one chapter, but the words kept coming. So I am breaking it into smaller, thematic pieces, hoping that makes it easier to read. The good news, is that I will be posting several chapters at once. More will come. Let's see how Charles Carmichael's life proceeds.

Standard Disclaimer – Don't Own Chuck or any of the characters. Just own an active imagination. Not making any money off this. Wish I was making more with my imagination, elsewhere.

Thanksgiving – The Flight Home

18 months after their wedding, the Woodcombs proudly announced the birth of their daughter, Clara.

The only detraction from their happiness was Ellie being without her family. Her newly re-found father was long gone and not heard from for months, and now Chuck was across the world. Her begging for him to visit and meet his new niece bruised his heart and conscience, to the point that he insisted on a break. He would allow this career and it's duties to distance himself from his sister, but he refused to let it destroy that relationship.

The Ring was all but dismantled, so he persuaded General Beckman and CIA Director Hawthorne, to bring him back to D.C., for a strategy session, checkup and new upload. And that was to be followed by a 3 day leave to go visit Ellie for Thanksgiving.

The Ring war had been exhausting and intense. Their tendrils ran wide and deep, and Team Carmichael had to always be on guard, determined to stay under the radar. Bryce's death created the assumption that the intersect was dead and gone. The enemy who knew Chuck was the intersect were dead. The off the record circumstances of his 2.0 upload, kept the circle of those in the know small. His dad, the old Burbank team, Carina and the heads of the CIA, DEA, and the NSA, were the few who knew the truth. By providing bits of his analysis to other analysts as if it was raw, field intel, Chuck contributed to the wider fight. The more sensitive and secret actionable intelligence was dealt with by the deep cover intersect teams; Chuck and Carina in Europe, Shaw, Sarah, and Casey in the U.S.

Without the Internal Affairs aspect of the Ring war, they could now be more visible in their future activities, while still maintaining the secrecy of the intersect.

Chuck and Carina were getting things squared away, in their office, before heading out for their vacations. He turned to her and teased, "Did you decide how you would risk your life during your time off?"

"Well D.C. can be a battle zone, filled with sharp tongues, if not sharp knives" she replied with a smirk. "So, after debriefing with my boss at the DEA, I'm going to run around D.C. to see who's around and catch up on what's up. I'm sure I can find a party, or can always start one of my own," she laughed.

Is she going to see Her? Chuck thought and began to verbalize. Then he clicked his mouth closed. It doesn't matter. She doesn't matter. I know She is alive and that is enough. Whether he still would be, if She wasn't, he didn't allow himself to think about.

Instead he grinned at Carina, "Well have fun, and let me know of anything super juicy. I guess you need some maintenance levels of partying, to tide you over until we get back to your non-stop partying across Europe."

Carina smacked him in the arm, "You know we still get the job done, and are the number 1 most kick ass team in the Spy biz." Leaning into him she whispered in his ear, "And I seem to remember your naked ass happily joining in", nipping his earlobe as she pulled away. Carina was pleased to see she could still elicit a little shudder and flush, from "Charles Carmichael".

"I assume you are going back to Yawnsville?" she teased back.

"Yep" he replied, revealing a small, sad, smile. "Heading Home." If such a place could still exist for him.
"I'm going to meet with General Beckman and Director Hawthorne, do a big debrief about the Ring, and figure out the best use of our abilities moving forward. I assume we will stay based here in Rome."

And with a bit of snark, he added, "And we are going to refill this big, ole computer brain of mine." tapping the side of his head for emphasis. "This should be one of the largest updates I've ever had, since it will reflect all the changes from the collapse of the Ring. I can't wait for that Migraine," he said, widening his eyes in emphasis.

"I appreciate what you are doing, especially since it keeps us at the top of the game, and in this lavish lifestyle. You are the best partner I have ever had, and that I could ever ask for", she softly and sincerely said, as she pulled him into a side hug and kissed the side of his head. Chuck turned it into a full hug. Of course Carina had to slap his butt as they parted. She took her leave, and he sighed away her presence.

He took a last look around, before hurrying out the door. He didn't want to become mired in thought about the ups and downs of his current situation.

On the flight back to D.C. his hectic pace started decelerating. Chuck could feel the stress leave him, breathing a little slower and deeper. His lowering blood pressure caused his temples to stop throbbing, its absence making him aware of something he had become accustom to ignoring. His muscles were unwinding, his brain unspooling. He wasn't exactly relaxed, he was just turned down to normal busy, not running in the full throttle, panic, fight or flight mode that he had been living in, for the past year or so. The months of training were far busier than his pre-intersect life, but once he was out in the field, it was like they turned on the nitrous. Spying in Burbank consumed the hours of his days and nights, but the time in the Buy More, was still at Buy More speed. Sloths wouldn't feel stressed. This was go, go, go night and day.

Now the nights were mostly fueled by Carina and her fully embracing the Jet Set, Socialite, Party Couple part of their cover. And Chuck was trying to throw himself fully into the experience.

Chuck shook his head, smiling as he thought of some of their escapades. Isn't this the life that people dream about? Fast Cars, Fast Parties, Fast Living. Why shouldn't I embrace it? Why shouldn't I experience to the fullest? Why is it so unfulfilling? Why does it feel like I am experiencing it incompletely?

If he would admit it, he would know that this wasn't his dream. Or, it wasn't how his dream was supposed to be experienced. He had dreamed of traveling, seeing the world, and doing adventurous things. But in his imaginings, there was always someone by his side. A specific someone. Her.

And without Her, it was lacking a certain feeling of reality. Carina was cool, and she was by his side. But she wasn't with him. With her, experiences were shared, but weren't shared experiences.

And so thoughts of Carina occupied his mind, since She wasn't allowed to. Carina is amazing. Attention grabbing beautiful, and when she put that beauty in motion, boys could become men. Some men would finally become men.

She brashly takes on her assignments, because there was no way she can be subtle. She isn't a spy who works in the background, sneaking around unnoticed. She overwhelms you, distracts you, makes your brain freeze. And when you finally come to your senses, her mission is complete, objectives obtained, and if you are still alive, that is only because that wasn't her objective. Only covered head to toe in mission gear does she not stand out, and that is only if she makes sure to tuck in all of her flaming red hair and not move too much; move, sway, sashay, whatever the hell she does that makes it seem like her hips were more fluid than solid. It is distracting. And he needed to stop thinking about that, here in public.

Baseball, Casey, Jeffster. Okay!, he thought as he consciously turned down his unconscious physical response to those memories.

How does she do it? She is amazing and exhausting to watch. She always runs at full speed. She is adrenaline personified. Nitrous Oxide injected by nature. I'm with her on missions all day, and then we party all night. A few hours sleep and some coffee, and she is good to go the next morning. I'm the walking dead.

Carina was an open flame, burning bright. He wasn't. He wasn't an equal burning flame. He was a moth. Drawn to, and fascinated by, her flame, but always slightly singed by the experience.

He embraced her, in his bed, and her lifestyle, as part of his attempt to fully embrace Charles Carmichael.

Mixing the "truisms" learned from the spy world (Spies don't fall in love, all for the greater good, live today because you probably won't see tomorrow) with the tropes of all the spy movies he watched, he decided to live fast and hard. But he was feeling its effects and consequences.

It was wearing on him. His self-directed implant of the Charles Carmichael personality wasn't being easily accepted by his mind. Like a body having issues with an organ transplant, his personality transplant was not a fait accompli, it required conscious effort at times. Whether it would be finally, seamlessly integrated, or possibly rejected in total, was still to be determined.

I need to try to keep up, I need to be better, I need to be more, to survive as a spy. And I want to be a spy don't I? It will prove I am making a difference. It will prove I am capable. It will prove I am enough for… that I am enough. I am doing the right thing and I need to make sure I am up to the job. The job at least. Lord knows if I will ever be up to keeping up with Carina.

She had him partying hard in the first week, and him in her bed shortly thereafter, always with a plaything. And he brought playthings home without her, as well. He threw himself into the purely physical, emotionless, search for momentary distraction and release that he always heard the spies talk about. He found it lacking. It was draining, not rejuvenating. The reward was not really worth the effort.

So, his nights of partying ending up in Carina's bed, became less and less frequent. She had no problem finding replacements. And he only brought someone else home when all other distractions failed. It was not frequent and barely satisfying.

When his heart would subconsciously seek for deeper connections, it would pull memories into his consciousness. The memory of being snuggled up to someone warm and welcoming. Closeness on a couch, as permitted by the cover. Tangled up in a bed in Barstow, cover and covers thrown aside and an unfulfilled need and desire at least acknowledged and laid bare. He minimized the accompanying pain, by refusing to recall Her face, effectively keeping his mental eyes closed. Try to pretend it could be anyone in his arms. But his cruel memory wouldn't forget Her scent.

He needed Her to be replaceable. Someday. He worked hard to not recognize that minutes of Her memories were more valuable to him than hours of emotionless copulation. He didn't know when he would be ready and circumstances would permit him to draw someone deeply into his heart, but he was realizing that he would need that in the future. Assuming he had a future. He was trying to live fast but not die young.

And death was now part of his world. The death he drank to forget. Too many shootouts, but with them he could allow himself to believe that it wasn't his bullet that specifically ended a life. The handful that he had to look at, see their face and their eyes, haunted him. He mentally shoved them into a closet he kept padlocked. His personal collection of Zombies, who, if they ever escaped would eat his brains, his heart, his soul. A punishment he felt was deserved, regardless of self-defense or the rational of the "Greater Good".

But, that's not what was on his mind right now. On this flight, his thoughts were filled with a jumble of Carina, successful missions, the coming debriefing and planning session, and the inescapable worry that underlid any intersect upload. And excited anticipation of seeing his family bubbles up between the business planning. Soon he will be hugging Ellie, holding Clara, and re-inhabiting Chuck Bartowski for a little while.