A/N (1) Previously on Chuck versus The Journey: Chuck and Sarah, without any good leads about their mission at their hands, enter their hotel room, only to find out that they are surveilled. As Casey, in turn, can observe the observers, he could report that whoever placed that camera is expecting that the Carmichaels consummate their marriage, or, as the bad guy put it, "make whoopee." And we're back for two updates again this week.

Daylight, I must wait for the sunrise,
I must think of a new life, and I mustn't give in.
When the dawn comes, tonight will be a memory too,
And a new day will begin.
"Memory" (Andrew Lloyd Webber, T. S. Eliot & Trevor Nunn)

Chapter 14: Sarah vs. The Pink Cupcake

"Undress for me," Sarah purred seductively, as there was no reason to whisper to Chuck furtively. The people observing them expected something along these lines. Her voice was alluring. She stepped closer to him. It would be suitable for the show to kiss him on his lips now, but since she dealt with so many sentiments tonight, she was not sure of her own reaction. She resorted to the playfulness that came so easily because it was a part of her, even if seldom shown, and it came out only when being with Chuck. But using it now was cruel to her soul. She was Samantha, and nothing was real.

Sarah lovingly began to nestle at his bow tie as she whispered to him. "Perhaps Casey's right, and when we crawl into bed and ... well, just be there, they will find other rooms to observe. As we've seen, we're not the only ones on their list."

She didn't believe it herself, and she saw in Chuck's face that he had severe doubts too, but she also registered how much he wanted to believe her. The submachine gun pointed at them certainly would awake if they attempted to flee the scene. She briefly wondered how determined their unknown foe must be to consider executing two people in a way that would end any secret operation for both sides for good. There was something to that last thought that she missed the time to pursue: What if nothing about this mission was as it seemed?

"And if they don't believe it?" he asked.

Casey reassured him in his usual dry style: "Then you'll have to see it through, Bartowski. The CIA coughs up for the honeymoon suite anyway. It's not the first American tax dollar wasted on a man's lap."

Who says it would be wasted? the girl in Sarah quipped soundlessly, but as she noticed that Chuck looked like he was going to be sick, she bit back on surely making Casey grunt in annoyance and rushed to reassure her husband.

"Don't listen to him," Sarah quietly tried to quell any babbling attack.

"Do we have pajamas?" he asked with a meek sigh.

Gosh, he's only thinking one moment about sleeping with me and is asking for PJs. She tried to wrap her mind around it. What kind of man are you, Chuck Bartowski?

"Are you sure you slept with that dudette at Stanford?" Carina unnecessarily chimed in.

"Strip down to your boxers," Sarah whispered worriedly as she finally held his bow-tie in her hand, and continued with a loud voice. "I'm freshening up a bit, my prince."

She rummaged in the walk-in wardrobe and found what she was looking for. She had to give it to her colleagues: They were thorough. As she entered the bathroom, she half turned around and miraculously had the bow tie on her neck. "Don't be surprised if I come back wearing nothing but that!" she flirted, pointing at her neck. The last thing she saw of him was as he fell back on the bed like a tree felled by a mighty ax. Timber, she thought, hating herself - she wanted so much these moments to be of Chuck and her.

Sarah paid the bathroom a short visit to change and to see if there was anything that could solve their dilemma. But there wasn't. It was the same luxury as outside, but it offered no way out.

When she left the bathroom, Chuck had turned off the light. The glass front to the terrace allowed enough ambient light into the room to make him gasp.

"That's the same thing you wore-"

"-on our first night!" she closed for him before he could make a mistake. She had selected the purple lingerie from the night they planned to pretend to sleep together for Ellie's and Devon's sake. "Do you like to stroll down memory lane tonight?"

How fitting, she thought, but she and only she knew that there was more to that lingerie than meets the eye. As she told him back then, it was all about establishing the girlfriend cover. But it hadn't been. She knew that Ellie and Devon, regardless of what hardly concealed allusions the Captain made, entirely bought their cover. There was no need to convince them. The threat came from another direction. Sandwich girl Lou was warming up her buns and soon going to smack Chuck in between with ribald enthusiasm. He would not end up as a Chuck Bartowski sandwich, but as a sandwiched Chuck Bartowski. So Sarah planned defensive measures to avert the loss of her cover boyfriend. Telling him to cover-sleep together only served to candidly show him what he would miss if they weren't together anymore. By using a cover-related excuse, she could present in the flesh what he should expect when she finally would seduce him and allow him to remove that purple veil as well, which was never going to happen because she was not permitted to seduce her asset. In hindsight, she understood why that wasn't the best plan she ever concocted and why it did not work out – not at all, Walker, as he called you a sex worker - and ended in discord.

"I'll go down every lane with you, Sugarplum!" Chuck exclaimed, quickly like a shot from her favorite Smith & Wesson. Sarah wondered why she honestly smiled back at his words – such images had meant nothing for most of her life. Being not alone, being together, relying on each other, supporting each other, belonging exclusively to someone who belonged only to her – that was far out from the world where she was living. Memory Lane certainly wasn't a place where she'd ever been. Her constant residence was more like Ground Zero. She only hoped that this night would not end for them on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams and at Heartbreak Hotel.

He threw back the covers for her. She saw that he looked firmly at her face.

You're so sweet. There is no way I can tell you that I wear this for you. I wonder what I would discover if we made love for real. Would you be tender, gentle, passionate, fiery? I hope you're all of it. Would you caress me as light as a feather when I needed it and love me hard and fast when I wanted it? I hope you would. Aren't nerds very thorough in all they do?

She shook her head free before it began to swirl, laid down on her side, and faced him with a tender, expectant smile. The color of the garment complemented her hair and her eyes. Her pose accentuated her figure that was as curvy as the small roads in Bel Air - but with a much more enticing view. It also underlined her chest's soft swell, gently held and just the right way covered by the purple promise she wore. He squinted and seemed to have a mild heart attack.

"God, you're beautiful," he muttered, clearly out of character, and quickly covered them with the duvet up to their chins before inquiring faintly with Casey. "Casey, what's the deal?"

A grunt ran ahead of the ex-Marine's words. "They're still deciding if you're real or agents. It's make-or-break in the next minutes. The guy who gives the orders gets nervous."

A deep sigh came from Chuck.

"Sarah, I'm with you. We screw the mission-" he winced at his words "-and get out of here alive. There are limits to what we can do. These limits have been reached, absolutely and totally. There's always another solution, and another way - we only have to find it, so, let's abort the mission."

"Too late, Chuck," she sighed sadly after patiently waiting until he rambled out. It didn't matter anymore. "You should have followed my advice when we were still clothed."

"Whatever," Casey gruffly said. "You have to convince them that you're honeymooners, however you do that."

"Sarah," Carina giggled in their earbuds. She found the idea of a forced intimacy between Walker and Bartowski immensely entertaining. Her disappointment over not being at Chuck's side had long vanished. She was a practical girl that sought her fun in every situation she faced. "M-mmmh," came from Sarah.

"Don't blow it, girl! And you, Chuck, don't fuck it up!"

Both heaved exasperatedly. Leave it to Carina to find comedy in their awkward situation. She proved she even could top her innuendo.

"Isn't that hilarious, Walker?" she asked with glee.

"What's so damn funny?" Sarah hissed in a whisper.

"Come to think of it, now's the moment when the handler's assets get handled by the asset."

The old Marine remembered his esprit de corps as he broke in the one-sided banter with a hint of sympathy, almost sounding a tad bashful:

"Listen, Walker. I stop monitoring that camera in your room now. I won't surveil until you let me know, and I will turn off your microphones too. You can alert me to come back again simply by switching on the light."

"Thank you, Casey."

The most senior team member was breaching protocol. Whatever was going to happen, he should watch and listen. But he saw no way out and displayed unusual compassion. What was weighing more in a comical sense, was that he certainly made a big personal sacrifice for not sending her along with his trademark quips like, "spreading some fruit sauce over your panna cotta" or "squirting sweet cream on your pink cupcake."

She turned to Chuck and stared at him silently in the low pale light that flooded through the glass front.

There is more at stake than at any other mission I've ever been – preventing an a-bomb explosion on the continental United States! Given the predicament we're in, not even Beckman would argue if I sleep with the asset tonight. Without any obligations, I could learn what Chuck is like in his most intimate moments. I could give them jerks, whoever they are, a good show that saves our lives and let myself go with the man I can not stop thinking about. He doesn't need to know that I would not fake the next few hours, and I could go back to being his handler right tomorrow morning.

She looked into his eyes. He certainly was waiting for instructions on how to proceed. His eyebrows were arched to question marks, and the expression in his brown eyes was endearingly trusting. If he were a puppy in an animal shelter waiting for someone to give him a new home, all the girls would fight over who would take him away. I would, ruff, ruff.

She blinked as she once more experienced how quickly she got sidetracked today. Now as before, she had to determine if she should sleep with Chuck to save themselves and the mission.

But he would be crushed to hear my lies later that it was only a job as that was all I could tell him. If I tell him the truth, if I try to have him as a real boyfriend, Beckman would replace me in no time, being compromised. What's worse, if I sleep with him tonight and go back to treat him as an asset, he will give up on me as he inevitably will lose what I asked of him in the first place: trust.

She pondered what to do.

About myself... I'm more than merely fidgety. Being called by my real name all evening long left me distraught and unconcentrated. But first, even if you aren't cool and collected yourself, put him at ease.

"Chuck," she finally whispered, reaching out an unsure hand to touch his cheek. She saw him gulping visibly. A hint of revulsion crept into his face.

Oh my God, that is precisely what I wanted to avoid! He assumes I am going to have sex with him for the mission! "Put him at ease", well done, Walker, well done, you're getting the golden raspberry for worst social interaction! How do I get out of this with his trust in me intact?

Can I turn the meaning of the night around, can I tell him that I will sleep with him, Chuck Bartowski and that the Carmichaels survive and save the mission as a side effect?

The disgust in his face, even though she hadn't said another word, spoke volumes. Her rash gesture wiped out the trust she marveled about only seconds ago. Chuck had misunderstood it, but still, she should have adequately communicated. Once more, she had pressed the red button, and the obliteration she caused left only a smoking crater of pulverized tender emotions.

No. Chuck would not accept that our first night together is a faked honeymoon under the leering eyes of people who consider killing us. Even more, if I'm going from rejecting him decidedly all the time to jumping his bones happily tonight, he would not believe that it is me, whatever I tell him, but that it's the agent doing a job. Again, woosh, there goes the trust we have built and the real connection between us that was so evident tonight.

She looked at his lips and, in a strange desire, wanted to dive over and kiss him.

Make-up sex. Making up for what? That I couldn't get my mind together for a year? That I pull him along on a string, not letting him slip from having those feelings for me, but always kicking him to the ground if he came too close?

Sarah lifted her gaze to his eyes. They were vigilantly waiting and challenging. Chuck was lying there, knowing what he would not do, and daring her to try it nonetheless. He was telling her without words that this was a line she shouldn't cross. He would not let it happen but rebuff her, if necessary, physically. She wanted to tell him that there was no reason to look so hostile, but she still went through the options in her head. She would not talk to him until she made her decision.

She shuddered in disgust at the sudden thought if Bryce had made it. If he were with her this moment in this bed, instead of Chuck. She knew that Bryce would give her no choice, tell her to spread her legs and to have fun at the job. What could she do anyway if Larkin simply took her? If he used her body as a tool to proceed with the mission? Fight him and punch him unconscious? The thugs who monitored them surely wouldn't assume that this was some kinky roleplay, no, they would have ordered that deadly Heckler & Koch UMP submachine gun to go to work. And who knows if the one UMP she saw was the only one out there. All she could have done when Bryce was in charge was file a complaint to Beckman later. "Dear General, Mr. Larkin schtuped me to save my life."

Once more, she was thankful that she was a killer and never faced such decisions before, and grateful that her abysmal job in a perverted way allowed her a certain kind of dignity over her body - as she had lost all other dignity in her life. And she felt grateful that it was Chuck who was in that bed with her. Yet all those thoughts didn't help regarding the anxiety spreading and the pressing choice she had to make.

There is only one way, Sarah eventually deduced as she made her decision, not willing to analyze the situation any longer. The Intersect had to be brought into security, no matter what. The mission, as grave as the case was, - if it still would be the same mission after this night! - had to be taken over by other teams. She could elucidate that decision to her superiors and believingly mask any personal reasons influencing her, so no harm would be done to her cover, to her assignment, to her… to the asset. All would be love, peace, and harmony. Still given, they survive this night.

In a rare occasion, Chuck registered emotions flitting across her features and didn't like the way her chin got that hard-edged look he only saw when things got dire.

"OK, we terminate the mission and try to get you out alive. I'm counting to three, then I'm getting up," Sarah whispered desperately. "I'm going over to the terrace door, admire the night sky and let them have a good view of me. That will keep their attention from you for a few seconds."

"Given they are straight men," Chuck objected. "I don't know if that's even a 50:50 chance. We shouldn't base our decisions on such vague assumptions."

It was her moment to be uncompromising.

"There's no compromise about you being safe. I'll delay them as long as I can. Ok. One..."

"That's the most half-witted thing I ever heard from you, that's zero-witted. You won't do that. I'm not leaving you here, to your fate? No way!"

Is she crazy? After all we've been through, how can she assume I will abandon her like that?

"… two…"

"We'll find another way. Me dashing out only in my undies?"

We are trying to escape death, and he worries about being seen in his underwear! It's so crazed I could howl like a banshee!

"… three!"

"Stay in the damn bed!"

She wanted to throw the duvet to the side, then flaunt her body for anyone on the terrace to see and distract them from Chuck. Suddenly his arm slipped over her hips under the duvet and held her firmly back.

It must be the strength of despair, Sarah guessed because she knew he was no match for her under normal conditions.

He loudly smirked, "Samantha Lisa, will you be a good girl now?"

It was the last thing she wanted to hear. She needed to keep Chuck from saying those words, or she would be falling apart anytime soon. She wished she could shout at him, but that was impossible. Sarah finally accepted that the unfinished business in her life rose to the surface and forcefully demanded to be faced.

"What do you think you're doing? And stop-"

"Samantha, I promised to the Governor, and I intend to keep my promise to the top representative of this fine state. Be a good girl now, and your husband will take care of you."

Sarah didn't reply as she didn't trust her voice.

"Be a good naughty girl for your daddy," he cooed. She was aware it wasn't him, he never would talk like that, he was Charles Carmichael, but, still...

Something inside her painfully ruptured. The old wound in her soul broke open and immediately began to fester.

"Will you stop-" she whined, and she meant him to hear and grasp her angst, only to be interrupted.

"No, I won't, until you do as I told you, Samantha Lisa!"

Malicious darkness crept up and surrounded her. She was not used to do as she was told - not anymore. Usually, she was calling the shots. But there was a spot in her life that had left her no choice, to put it mildly. Chuck's talk pushed her into an abyss of angst and fear. It brought back the pain she had kept locked away. It was not his fault, but she was not sure how long she could differentiate that fact from the emotions taking control of her. She wanted to tell him to quit saying those words and quit saying her real name, before she would lash out to him in desperate self-defense, but she could not.

His eyes darted to the row of buttons and switches near the bedside and lingered there for long moments.

"I have an idea."

•••••••••••••••••••

A/N (2) … and I had no idea this single scene would turn out so long. I am sorry to end this on a cliffhanger as well. Really sorry. Honestly sorry. Terribly sorry. Snickeringly sorry.

A/N (3) It's not the first American tax dollars wasted on a man's lap: Borrowed from Casey in "Chuck Versus the Cougars" (season 2, episode 4). Since this episode hasn't taken place in my timeline, can I claim this quip as my own? No, of course, I don't own anything, not even Chuck.

A/N (4) Boulevard Of Broken Dreams: A song by Green Day from November 2004 inspired by the popular Gottfried Helnwein painting of James Dean, Humphrey Bogart, Marilyn Monroe, and Elvis Presley sitting in an all-night diner. Billie Joe Armstrong stated that the song's title was "nicked" from the painting of James Dean walking alone.

A/N (5) Heartbreak Hotel: What can you say about one of the defining songs of the 20th century without writing a full chapter? The fact sheet states that it was recorded on January 10, 1956, in New York City, released on January 27, 1956, and became Elvis' first # 1 Billboard hit. If you like music, take those 6 or 7 minutes to read the entire Wikipedia entry while I leave you with three quotes by fellow musicians.
John Lennon: "When I first heard Heartbreak Hotel, I could hardly make out what was being said. It was just the experience of hearing it and having my hair stand on end."

Keith Richards: "Then, "Since my baby left me"—it was just the sound ... That was the first rock and roll I heard. It was a totally different way of delivering a song, a totally different sound, stripped down, no bullshit, no violins and ladies' choruses, and schmaltz, totally different. It was bare right to the roots that you had a feeling were there but hadn't yet heard. I've got to take my hat off to Elvis. The silence is your canvas, that's your frame, that's what you work on; don't try and deafen it out. That's what "Heartbreak Hotel" did to me."

Robert Plant (Led Zeppelin): "It was so animal, so sexual, the first musical arousal I ever had. You could see a twitch in everybody my age. All we knew about the guy was that he was cool, handsome, and looked wild."

A/N (6) If you made it so far through all the A/Ns, you could leave a quick review as well. Always interested to hear your ideas. I respond as well - but I can't reply to guest reviews, so sign up.