A/N (1) This chapter describes an adult situation. The rating still is a safe T. I will gently steer you through it without letting it get out of hand *at all*, but I can't avoid evoking one or the other frivolous impression. But, in reality, nothing happens. And it's about Chuck and Sarah, so I assume the complaints will be precisely about what *not* happened.

A/N (2) Uh-oh! Looks like our gal is falling prey to her own inner trouble and the nearest bystander will have to take the rap for it. She has her heart in the right place, but something way too disturbing seems so to come up and she can't help herself. Let's see if the boy has matured and can help her. Could this be the very last time in this story they're not on the same wavelength - will we reach the sweet spot now where the pendulum swings the other way? Let's wait until the last line of the chapter if the outlook for the future is promising!

A/N (3) Previously on Chuck versus The Journey: Chuck and Sarah are in their hotel room and, unfortunately, under enemy video and audio surveillance. As Casey, in turn, can observe the observers, he could report that the unknown foe is expecting that the Carmichaels consummate their marriage or, as the bad guy put it, "make whoopee." The previous chapter ended with these words:

Sarah saw darkness creeping up and surrounding her. She was not used to doing as she was told - not anymore. Usually, she was calling the shots. But there was a dark spot in her life that had left her no choice. Chuck's talk pushed her into an abyss of angst and fear. She wanted to tell him to quit saying those words and saying her real name, 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."

•••••••••••••••••••

I want to be your fantasy,
Maybe you could be mine?
You just leave it all up to me,
We could have a good time.
"Kiss" (Prince)

Chapter 15: Sarah vs. The Most Incredible Guy Ever

"Samantha, darling," Chuck said aloud with a voice full of desire, finally delivering something for their audience.

Snap your finger, clap your hands, sing hallelujah, the asset who's torturing me all evening long with all those 'Samantha Lisa' quips has an idea, she wanted to exclaim cynically, only to exhort herself silently. What's the matter with you, Walker? Your emotions sway wilder than your punching bag when you maltreat it. You're unfair to Chuck. Your nerd has an idea, and he's a smart fellow!

Chuck intuited for a while that something was off about Sarah. Ever since they found out that they were not only under surveillance but also threatened by an unknown enemy hidden out on their terrace, she was not the woman he used to know – cool, collected, in control. Her attempt to risk her own life to allow him to escape was the last straw for him to understand – there was sand in the gears of the perfect CIA agent.

Strangely, the more he realized that Sarah possibly wasn't going to find a solution, the calmer he became. It was comfortable to freak out while an ever-watchful Sarah Walker saved his ass no matter how much worse he spiraled. But he was amazed at himself how he rose to the challenge. It was Chuck who could support Sarah this time, and whether he would fail or not, he certainly wouldn't let her down and would try his best.

Chuck's hand reached out to the panel of switches over his head, and a low hum ensued. The thick curtains slowly closed automatically. It became pitch-dark.

"Oh, Samantha," he sighed aloud before he whispered hastily.

"They can't see anything now. I really really hate that we have to do that, but there is no way we would do this, so we have to do that," he added with a painful sigh. Sarah did not understand the confusing wording at first, busy getting her swirling thoughts under control.

OK, so they can't see us. But they can hear us, or hear if we don't sleep together. Unless we two were very quiet lovers. Who would believe that? We still face the same problem. And I'm still the person I hate most, I'm still Samantha Lisa.

A body shifted towards her. The absence of light heightened her senses. Chuck lay a few inches away from her, far enough that he wouldn't touch her, but close enough that his weight seemed to dent the bed and draw her to him. His warmth seemed to add to the pull his body had. She inhaled even his scent, which was so familiar by now from many cover evenings.

The blackness stirred up contradicting emotions. It offered protection from Chuck's eyes. He could not see Sarah and could not read what she thought was written all over her face. The downside was that Sarah had been surrounded by inner darkness before – the kind of gloominess she feared because all the fighting skills she owned did not help against an enemy inside, precisely, an enemy that was part of herself. And now the tenebrosity of the world met with that of her soul and melted together, building an ocean of menace.

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that, she remembered. But what - or who – was her guiding light? Chuck? Buy More Nerd Herder Chuck? The one who did his fair share tonight in sending her downward into the feeble state of mind she was in? Sarah knew he was not the only contributing factor to the inner trouble she experienced. There was Carina, there was Bryce, and an evening full of "Samantha Lisas", and "good girls". People like Gene Kowalski had forced her to make decisions she had postponed for too long - it was time to confront her demons she had suppressed for years. And one man had made her face the dreams she was harboring for a year now.

"Samantha, baby," Chuck's voice murmured next to her, lazily, sexily, but measured loud enough that the camera would pick it up. Since when can he talk in a sexy voice? And since when can anyone call me "baby" without getting punished immediately? "I love to discover your charms in the darkness."

She was impressed by his idea and flabbergasted that she did not come up with it herself. That's what he meant with his confused "this" and "that" babbling!

Why haven't I thought of that? We can deliver the act without performing it!

At the same time, she was confused – am I Samantha, or am I Sarah? – and angry at him for causing these conflicting feelings. If only he would stop saying that name. Wait! What's he saying?

"Your lips…" – he actually inserted a soft kissing sound – "they taste so good..."

She wondered how he made those kissing sounds. She imagined him kissing his own hand or how his face would look if he repeatedly kissed empty air. Sarah had to keep herself from hysterically laughing. Who is he kissing? Does even he know? Is he playing our cover game, or is he playing games with me, kissing me, making me believe he kisses his wife Samantha while he actually kisses Sarah Walker? Am I going mental? They always stressed at the Farm how essential it was to compartmentalize, to keep yourself and your cover identities strictly apart. I broke that rule tonight, part myself, the bigger part people who didn't know what they were doing to me. Am I about to pay the price for my recklessness? Do I become schizo? - Walker, he is not kissing you - he's only talking about it!

"I can exactly imagine you. I love you in that lingerie… a dream in purple … a half-dressed dream in purple with golden hair and the most innocent baby blues... your skin so smooth that I want to touch it forever… the mere thought of how you look right now makes me incredibly hot…"

Now let's plug you to a polygraph and find out if you mean me or Samantha! Because if you have the hots for Sam, I'll scratch your eyes out, but if you are hot for me, I'm going to get you someday, just you wait, Chuck Bartowski, just you wait! - Yikes! I am going bonkers!

The other person in her head – is that the first stage of paranoia? – warmly noted how much she enjoyed his words, although these were nothing extraordinary. She had been courted before in her time, sweet-talked, dirty-talked, and all these words were similar and meant nothing for her. Words spoken to an agent, ha! Every word she ever said was voiced to manipulate and deceive, every word she was told she took likewise. Men who tried to bewitch her never knew that their efforts were futile. Words aren't like peaches, Ellie was wrong - words are lies. But to hear it from Chuck Bartowski was different. It struck a chord. Sarah Walker felt verbally seduced and enchanted by sweet nothings for the first time in her life.

Meanwhile, the man in question was doing all the talking bravely. Only Sarah knew him well enough to hear that he struggled, that he didn't want to speak such words if they weren't really directed at her, Sarah, that he not only wanted to talk, but follow with the actions he described. But he kept a distance from her and did not touch her with a fingertip.

"Mmmmh, you kiss so heavenly, Samantha… uuuh I love when you play with your tongue like that.. when you hold my face with your hands so I can't escape your lips... as if I ever would…"

Sarah felt transported to the moment she ravished his lips a couple of months ago, convinced they both would die in a blinding explosion. Why was Chuck bringing that up now? Or was she insane and only imagining he did? Was she interpreting something that wasn't in his words?

Her breath quickened. Nobody could see her, not even Chuck. She could indulge in that moment from last year. It was so tempting to summon those memories from that night. Never had a kiss excited her so much.

She loudly gasped when she felt a tingle of arousal. That was not planned. She had to be in control of the situation, be ready if the unknown enemy decided to attack them, and then get Chuck out of this bed, out of this room, into the safety of her arms. No, wait, into safety. Period.

"You like that, do you?"

"Yes," was all she could answer. Did he know her desire was awakening?

"You like where my hands are, honey, do you? Dear customer, we need your feedback to spoil you the best, to waste not one moment you don't enjoy yourself, so please tell us what you like best!"

First, she wanted to ignore it – sex and jokes? – and then she let the titter wishing to break free out nonetheless. It felt good. She felt good. He made her feel good.

But, hey, what? His hands? Where could these be right now?

He got such strong hands, and his arms could reach almost anywhere she liked to be stroked. She decided not to think about it and simply gave in because she was not ready to give up remembering that bomb kiss back then that she had initiated.

"Hmmm," she admitted in a moaned hum and returned to her fantasy.

Was it an agents' vision, and had it been more exciting because there was danger involved? If there had been more time at that time, Sarah would have pulled Chuck on top of that Bryce bomb. She would have had her way with him there and then. What an irony it would have been, with at a deep-frozen Bryce Larkin under them inside that bomb. She had wished to go out of this life with a bang, she snickered over her wordplay.

No, it wasn't the danger back then at the harbor, although she was no stranger to the desire when she came down from the high of a successfully closed mission. Then at the harbor, it had been because of Chuck. The unlikely dream guy that was currently kissing me and roaming his hands over my body exactly as I yearn it. Oh, stop. He doesn't! He's just talking about it. It's all a posse, and I should be cool and collected and play along by making appropriate - or inappropriate! - sounds.

"Oh yes," she breathed, and she wasn't sure to which of his words or questions she replied. She only wanted him to continue. "What do you… what… hmmm… Charles, I love it when you kiss my neck like that…" she moaned. She orientated herself according to where she heard his voice. She felt him shift again. The next moment his voice was a bit more distant, as if he had slid down. He certainly took their faked audio sex very seriously.

"It's such a turn-on to explore your body with my hands and lips. Your skin is like velvet. I want to kiss and caress every inch."

She only could guess where he pretended to kiss her. It was surreal. She somehow wished they had tried to escape the room instead of delivering an audio drama that solved their dilemma, but not her dilemma. They hopefully would manage with enough feigned "Oh's" and "Ah's" to let everyone listening believe that they made love, while in fact they lay next to each other, not touching each other at all. But she wanted to make love to him, albeit as Chuck and Sarah and without witnesses, and even only mimicking it in words was confusing and troubling.

"Make that more kisses, Mr. Carmichael," she sighed. He did as told and produced the fitting sounds. Would it be so bad if she kissed him for real? Not for pleasure, she told herself, but simply to make the audio track their life depended upon believable? Hypocrite!

Sarah looked into the darkness and listened intently to find out where he might be. She had an odd desire to know where his lips and hands on her body were supposed to be. Her CIA senses told her she shouldn't want to know.

"You like teasing me with your charms, do you?" Chuck asked, and her confusion increased. That had not been his Carmichael voice.

Had that been Chuck himself asking? Is he again playing mind games with me? How can he do that? I'm the one doing the deceiving, manipulating, lying. It's in the CIA handbook. The agent manipulates the asset, not the other way 'round.

How was she to respond? As Sarah or as Samantha?

She teased him from the very first time she walked into the Buy More. Those tight blue jeans and the way she leaned her hips on the Nerd Herd desk, open to any propositions. That white thing under her brown leather jacket that was so low-cut that Chuck could not see it and could easily imagine she wore nothing under the leather. Naked skin on raw leather, how inspiring a decent jacket can be.

Yup, she teased from the very first day, and up until now. She excitedly remembered when he asked her out on a date a few weeks ago, when they both expected she would be reassigned within days. She chose her dress wisely, and when she leaned over to him while chatting, she gladly offered him so much cleavage that even a blind Chuck would have had no way not to notice. While his eyes didn't lower their gaze, she had known for sure that she accomplished to turn his brain into toast.

Well, the answer is yes, I teased you from the beginning, but it was about you. I may have abused my spell now and then, I'm only human and took advantage of you as an agent, but it was about you all the time.

"Oh yes," she said sultry, stretching the "O". Walker, you oh-yes too fast and too often and to everything he says. Be more careful what he asks, possibly you gotta say "No" sometimes.

"I like to pleasure you so much," she explained short-breathed, "see your cute face full of want for me," she closed, feeling worked-up. Damn Samantha, but Sarah wanted to do it. She would love to find a sexual longing in his eyes – and then fulfill it. If she ever dared to let her feelings take control, that is.

"Tell me more what it does to you, everything," Chuck sighed.

"I get the shivers all over when I see the need in your eyes." She gulped audibly. "How you want to take me right now, and knowing it was me that made you so horny, that also makes me so… oohhh, Charles," she interrupted herself as if he had touched an extra sensitive spot. "And then, you drive me crazy…"

"I'm gonna drive you oh so crazy," Chuck announced, and then his voice sounded strong all the sudden. "Take it off, or should I? Take it all off, first that sinful nothing you wear, then the rest, please!"

Sarah was not sure what to say and cursed herself. C'mon, you're not a schoolgirl! And you're not getting naked anyway for him, you simply pretend!

But she followed Chuck's example of taking the play seriously and shifting her torso and her hips a bit to mimic taking off her lingerie and her panties. I'm completely naked now, in my mind, and I'm with Chuck. Does he still wear his boxers?

Chuck's voice suddenly was right next to her ear, vibrating with passion. Sarah startled.

"You want me to drive you crazy, do you?"

"Yeah," she groaned.

"Wanna lay there, your golden tresses on the pillow, eyes closed, and you want to be caressed? Is it thrilling for you that you don't see me, and you don't know where my hand will fondle you next?" he asked, and it sounded somewhat hypnotizing, or did she just imagine that.

But she quickly answered him. "Please, do."

"You can imagine that I tenderly tie you up with a silken scarf and that you are completely and utterly at the mercy of my hands and lips," he said.

That is new. A CIA agent never indulges in scenarios that restrict her freedom to move. Sarah was almost thankful that he said that as it helped her to gain a bit of balance, to fight the awakening physical reactions to his words.

"You know, you stretch your arms back over your head, grab the headboard, and then you feel how I lay the long scarf over your wrists. You're not tied at all, it just floats there on your skin. It does not hold you back in any way. The moment you move, it flutters down on the linen next to you," he explained, and Sarah liked that vision much better, although she didn't understand the meaning.

"Why," she aspirated, "why would I do it then?"

She thought she heard him grin a Gotcha! grin. Nay, can't be.

"Because as long as you allow yourself to imagine that you're tied, you're not responsible. You can writhe and scream and thrash around, and it is all my doing, no thinking, no wondering, no holding back… you can put the blame on me if the neighbors call the cops from all the noise you make…" he trailed off.

"I like that very much," Sarah heard herself giggle. Walker, you're getting into deep trouble right now. What noise would you make anyway because he doesn't even touch you with a fingertip!

"That's my good girl," he began once more, and she wanted to kick him but was not sure what she would do once their skins touched. A cold-hearted punch could quickly turn into a heated make-out-session, and that would only be the beginning. "Can you feel my breath on your skin?"

"Yes, I can," Sarah managed to croak. Was he that near or was she only persuaded that he was?

She grokked that he suppressed a snicker.

"What?" she whispered after a louder faked moan.

"That's hilarious," he whispered back. "I feel like I'm doing an English voice-over to a Serbian porn flick of Irene Demova!"

"There'll come the day when we need to talk about your fixation on Serbian porn stars now that we're married," she quipped. He lightly laughed for real now.

"And you claim you aren't funny!"

The list of contradicting emotions inside her was growing, but she wondered if sex with Chuck would be like that – lust and laughter. Until now, these two hadn't gone together. Her love life so far had been sometimes good, sometimes average, sometimes not worth a mention, but smiles and humor and laughter had been strangers. Yet it felt so good to be witty while being pleasured by him. Gosh, I am not being pleasured. Not not not! It's only pretense! Am I going mad?

"You're ok that all you can do is enjoy yourself?" he asked again. Too much gentleman, Chuck, you got me all worked up and juicy, now don't tarry, my body is yours. Or is it Samantha's? Sarah pushed the question aside. She produced a muffled noise of encouragement and nodded vigorously, which wasn't any good in the darkness surrounding them but was thankful that he proceeded nonetheless. She eagerly waited for what he pretended to do to her next. His weight indicated that he was somewhere between her shoulders and her stomach.

"Hmmm…" he made again with a deep voice that somehow seemed to reach her skin like an exciting caress. "I love how your body reacts between my lips. I only wish I had two sets of lips to spoil you like that at the very same time, or is it my hands that make it happen, Samantha?"

Will you never say that name again, please, Sarah wanted to shout and began to transform all her confusion into aggression against him. Then she realized in bewilderment what he was mocking to do now. His hands are on my boobs? she thought, dumbfounded, and quickly brought her hands to her chest only to find out that there was nothing and no one. Wherever Chuck's hands were, they had not and would not touch her in that audio play they were delivering. It's just make-believe. But the imagination of a long and silky white scarf floated away into the nirvana of all things imagined and then was forgotten.

She knew Chuck couldn't see anything, but with profound shock, learned from his next utterings how attentive he was.

"Yeah, my sweet little sex kitten, put your hands on mine and show me how you like to be touched," he pressed out of his lungs, and she could hear how excited he was.

Excited? From what? From a bit of simulated dirty talk? I am going nuts! Sarah cursed. This was not such a good idea as she first thought, realizing she was deeply stirred. But they started it. To her shame, she realized that it had been her who had imperiled both of them earlier by being distracted by the turmoil in her mind.

"Like that, mmm, I like that, you need no teaching, keep on doing that, my big bad man!" she coaxed.

"I am taking my hands away now, but don't stop what you do!" he desired.

What's that? Is he telling me to touch myself while he-

She suddenly registered that he moved, and then his voice exuberantly came from lower, where her stomach was. "I know that navel! It belongs to Samantha Lisa Carmichael, and I wanna pour Champagne there and lick it up!"

Where are my knives? I carve him like a turkey! Sarah felt blind anger welling from continually having rubbed her name into her face. Yes, that's good. Channel all your angst into anger towards the culprit!

As she vainly tried to remind herself that he didn't know about the background and that's she should get herself together, she felt him shift once more next to her, moving even lower.

"Yes, baby, open up for me," he growled with a voice that truly made her shiver in anticipation. "Mmm, the scent of a woman… my woman… I'll kiss you now as you've never been kissed before... I'm so hungry for you..."

How does he know that I never got kissed… there? Sarah reeled in thrilling shock. She envisioned that Chuck was not lying next to her, but right where he faked to be, and suddenly heat crawled over her skin from head to toe.

"Oh, Sweetie, that's… no one ever did that to me… uhhh yeah…" she heard herself sigh. No, moan, loudly moan. Herself. Not Samantha, but Sarah. She picked up that he stopped his faked love play for the tiniest moment. Had he noticed that she gave something of herself away? Had he understood from her tone that she had been honest, that none of her previous lovers had taken the time to pleasure her … there? And that Chuck Bartowski, even only in his intoxicating words, was going to… dine and feast on her as if it was the most natural thing in the world, doing whatever delighted her? Perhaps it was for him – he always placed himself second and her first, even in their complicated, faked-passionate, forced-platonic, seething but never erupting relationship.

"So smooth and silky," he groaned while pretending to please her. Her body reacted. She began to pant for real.

What's happening to me?

"I adore you so much," he sighed. "I want you to be happy, I want you to be so happy so much."

That sounded like Chuck. Simple, heartfelt. Sarah had no clue if he was a dirty talker, but these more romantic words she attributed to him and not Charles Carmichael. Who was talking to her? Was it Charles Carmichael she wanted to kill for bringing up that damned name repeatedly, or was it Chuck Bartowski who was doing all these heavenly things to her through his words? Or was he both? Was he, as she taught him, keeping his cover as simple as possible, which would mean his cover personality carried many features of his authentic self but not the detailed information about the man? Whoever it was, and she liked the idea that it was the real Chuck very much, it was making her pretty antsy and… almost aroused.

Almost aroused? Don't fool yourself. I am aching for… he's talking me into a frenzy! What would happen if he actually touched me?

"You taste so delicious," he said, and she recoiled from her feelings.

"Don't stop now, please, don't you stop," she mumbled, and he picked up more the meaning than the words themselves.

"I want to kiss you forever, ... your joy is such a turn-on for me," he rasped as if he went wild with passion.

"Don't take that hand away," Samantha commanded in an attempt to control the illusion.

"How would I?" he teased, "But do you want to? Right now?"

"Yes!" Sarah hissed impatiently, "Shut up and keep your tongue there, don't torture me, let me…"

Sarah's right hand frantically searched his head, and it found his curls and gripped them firmly, making the first-ever physical contact with him since their sham of lovemaking had begun. He respectfully was at least a foot to her side, but she imagined he was right where their talk assumed him to be. If he was surprised, she didn't notice it.

"Let you what? Wanna say it? Wanna beg for it?"

"Please, I beg of you, don't stop, please..." she cried out, feeling herself about to go ballistic at any moment. Just like his hands and lips, his tongue had not met with any spot of her body. Why is it so exciting nonetheless?

"Let yourself go, honey... for me… now!"

She understood that this now was the signal to Agent Walker performing as wife Samantha to be sent over the edge, to put an end to that chapter of their performance. She wondered how Sarah and Samantha individually fantasized about making love with Chuck while he actually kissed both of her, where she had never been kissed before. Both of her? The fragmentation of her mind reached dangerous dimensions!

"Oh my God, Chu- oh my God, Charles, yes! Oh, yes!"

Wait, wait, wait, he actually does not kiss me there or anywhere else, he doesn't touch me with even a fingertip, it's all in his words - and in my head. What is so powerful about it that I can hardly distinguish fantasy from reality?

God, help me!

She wandered through a myriad of emotions, breathing hard and losing herself in the turmoil of her mind.

"Uhm…" Chuck made, and that sounded now 10,000% Bartowski. The second she realized her right hand was still firmly in his curls, she yanked it back in an instant, glad that he could not see her blush from her cheeks to her kneecaps.

What is he doing to me? We just exchanged words. But if I weren't so angry about that Samantha stuff, I would almost have… no, can't be. But he was so great at what he was doing… no, not doing, talking about, and then he denied me my fun with his annoying Samantha Lisa and good girl gibberish, that dumbass! I couldn't … and would have yearned so much to… my God, what fun? And when was he great? He's only a braggart, he didn't do anything for me, and I wanted him so much to make me delirious with pleasure! God, can't we get Samantha Lisa out of the way so that my poor head is ready for him? How long will he wait for me until I make up my mind? He doesn't understand what's going on, yeah, Walker, now you're the dumbass, why don't you tell him?

"Want to cuddle a bit? And then, sweet and sexy Miss Carmichael, we play some more?" he asked suddenly, very near to her ears.

What does he want? Oh yes, I'm supposed to be his wife. I shouldn't just lay there and let myself get caressed into seventh heaven. I should do likewise.

Their earbuds crackled lightly. "Walker, Bartowski, these guys finally decided that you probably are only newlyweds on their honeymoon. Errm… good job, whatever you…" Casey's voice respectfully trailed off and explained about the unknown audience. "They decided to have an eye on you tomorrow again and keep the cam monitored throughout the night in case you do something unusual, but the assassination team that was on your terrace was called back."

An audible sigh of relief came from Chuck.

"Anyway, don't forget they will still observe you for the rest of the night through the cam, so keep it as dark as it is right now. I couldn't see anything on their monitor when you closed the curtains. You've been almost cleared as harmless civilians and the watch on you is only superficial, just in case something unusual happens, so don't do anything. And still only whisper if you talk. We'll think about that camera in the morning. Goodnight, agents!" Casey pointedly closed.

The earbuds crackled again while Chuck and Sarah accepted that the immediate danger was over. They lay next to each other, not moving a muscle, feeling the tension slowly reducing. A mountain of worry about Chuck fell from Sarah's shoulders.

Unfortunately, it did not ease the anger towards Chuck. That emotion came from somewhere else. Sarah knew it was unfair. Totally unfair. She channeled her angst into wrath that needed a target, which was Chuck, to deal with that angst, but she could not help it anymore. It began to fully control her as her concentration on the threat was gone. Trying to mask her uneven breathing, angry tears welled in her eyes.

The darkness made Chuck's senses alert.

He didn't want to think about what they had not done and not even what he had detailed with his words. These had been the cruelest moments in his life, and although he wildly wondered why she had yanked at his curls for real, he wanted to forget it. It was too much of what he dreamed of - not necessarily in precisely those words, but certainly in terms of his massive wish to make her happy. He needed to concentrate on the mission. They only had to sleep until the morning and then find out what they could do about the camera over the door and what all that meant for tomorrow.

He listened intently. What was that noise? Crying?

"Sarah? Are you OK?" he whispered and tentatively reached out in the dark, finding her cheek wet with tears.

Don't! she thought. Don't push him away now! He doesn't know what his Samantha Lisa and "good girl" quips are doing to you. Don't be unfair! Be fair-minded! He doesn't know that "Samantha Lisa" throws you into panic mode! Please, be fair, fair, fair... Forgive me Chuck, it is not your fault, it's mine... but I am stumbling deep into trouble, I can't help myself. Keep calm, Walker... no, I can't can't can't. Forgive me, Chuck, don't stop believing in me, please please please... I can not help myself anymore...

Almost giving him a heart attack, she brushed his hand away forcefully as if it was a tarantula slowly crawling over her face, hating herself for it the very same moment.

"Don't you dare to touch me!" she whispered aggressively and almost too loud. "It's none of your business! Next time you try that, I'm going to break that hand of yours!"

She didn't know where those words came from and felt searingly hot regret, but her inner turmoil was too much. Too much. How she wished she could lash out to him for all the Samantha bullshit he was giving her. She wanted to be left alone in her agony, as she always had been. She knew no other way to deal with her troubles than to put her shields up and sit it out until it was over. Alone. Softly crying in anger and frustration, she lay stiffly on her back, her arms resting on her sides. She hoped he finally would leave her there in the dark and in her misery. It was her misery. Good, cute, sweet Chuck didn't need to suffer too, so he better should not know about it.

Or should I tell him? Doesn't my heart tell me to open up finally? To him, only to him? Overcome your angst and tell him that-

"You know I can't do what you asked," Chuck said softly. "You're going through a hard time."

Yeah yeah yeah. I don't need no stinking pity. I'm Sarah Freaking Walker. - I should apologize! I should apologize! I should apologize! For what I say and what I think.

She pressed her lips firmly together in honest shame. She could never do him any harm. She could never talk to him like that. But he didn't know what he was doing to her - and her condition was beyond acknowledging it.

"I'm not going to ask any questions," he said now.

Please, don't, it would make everything even more complicated.

"I don't expect one single syllable. But you should know that you're not alone."

Something moved. Him.

"There's a hand coming your way. Don't hurt it. It's a good hand."

Sarah held her breath. What's this nonsense about a good hand?

"As I said, it's the good hand that will do you no harm. As opposed to the evil hand… the other one there on my other arm… the evil hand that pinched your tasty little ass down in the banquet hall. If you want to punish that hand, you can do so at any time. But I plead for extenuating circumstances: One of your hands pinched me first, so it was only for retaliation when the other hand abused your sweet fanny."

Sarah wetly giggled. Leave it to Chuck Bartowski to make her laugh and cry at the same time.

Most incredible guy ever!

"But back to the good hand. It's going to touch you. Don't kill it."

Her right pinkie was touched as light as a feather by what only could be his left pinkie.

"Now, you know where my hand is. It can hold your hand like a glove, keep it safe and warm. I'll leave it up to you to take advantage of that offer. Goodnight, Sarah."

That's it? Walker, you're an idiot. You could have that and so much more - much easier. Why am I such a mess?

Clarity came over her like the morning sun rises above the mountains.

This is the best man I've ever known. I didn't even dream something like him existed. Why don't I simply take him in my arms and show him what he means to me? … You can't do this, Walker. Have you forgotten how angry you are at him? Aw, am I really? He was so clever... But, he's still your asset. Even if he weren't, don't forget that someday he will learn about all of your past – then he will climb the next tree, fold it up after him, and call 911 to take you away.

Her angry tears stopped coming as she tentatively slipped her hand into his. It was exactly as he promised. The good hand was large and warm, and her hand fit into it perfectly.

•••••••••••••••••••

A/N (4) Didn't I promise, nothing got out of hand as actually nothing happened at all.

A/N (5): Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that: Quote from a 1957 sermon by Martin Luther King published in his book "Strength to Love" in 1963.

A/N (6) Tarantula slowly crawling over her face: I didn't intend it as a reference, but when I wrote that line, the thing that came to my mind was Sean Connery in his first movie as James Bond in "Dr. No" (1962), when that tarantula crawls up under the duvet and over his shoulder. Because Connery didn't want a spider crawling on him, they faked it. It's not really on him, but it's just a layered shot (you can see him moving a bit while the spider remains stationary for a split second). The shoulder close-ups are not him but stunt double Bob Simmons. He said that this is one of the scariest stunts he has ever done (back then, the undoubtedly severe bite of a tarantula was universally assumed to be deadly, which is not true).

A/N (7) If you're into real spicy stuff, then you may look for "It Was Bryce's Fault" by Argo0 on this site. It started out with the same premise as this chapter, yet he didn't lamely chicken out of the hardcore stuff as I did. He immediately turned the plot around about 180 degrees and wrote a raunchy four-chapter xxx-rated version. He proved that anyone could escape the trouble of being expected to make love not by faking it, but by going at it full blast - smut alert, so you've been warned if you read it!

A/N (8) If you want to offer a few words of compassion for our confused and troubled girl, write a review. I promise I will pass it on to her. Might really help her. If you all write, the next chapter may turn out so sweet that I should borrow one of David Carner's diabetes warnings for the A/N. If that's not an incentive, then I don't know.