A/N (1) Previously on Chuck versus The Journey: Everything's coming up roses for Chuck, Sarah, and the rest of the team, which was upgraded to an experimental joint CIA/NSA post, complete with analysts, combat team, and Roan Montgomery. Sarah was appointed as the lead while Chuck finally became a CIA employee. The last time we left them as things heated up, and we panned the camera away to the clear blue sky. The sky's still blue, but I think we can take a gander.

Hard luck stories get me so upset,
Like Romeo and Juliet.
I'm not smart enough to figure why
Some folks enjoy a real good cry.
Happy ending, happy ending,
Give me a story with a happy ending.
When boy meets girl and then
They never part again,
But live forever happily, like you and me.
"Happy Ending" (Sid Wayne & Ben Weisman)

Chapter 48: Charah vs. The Happy Ending

Ancient cultures believed that the sky was painted blue by the reflection of sapphire stones. More contemporary, Sarah's eyes had taken on that task, and the sky over California had changed forever as the most beautiful blue eyes in history lavishly radiated. She snuggled against his heaving chest while he just lay there with closed eyes.

"What… what in the… what in the world came over me?" Chuck panted.

"Sarah Walker," she giggled merrily.

"God, … that was… like an earthquake," he raved. "I think you reached the end of the open-ended Richter scale."

"So did you," she mumbled, flattered and cajoled by his words, and it was not easy to compliment her. One of his hands lazily stroked her shoulders, and she once more felt that strange sensation of confident sexuality, of how greatly they enjoyed each other and that confused vulnerability of how much he meant to her and how she suddenly wasn't alone anymore.

"What was that thing about the trial?" he inquired a few minutes later when he could speak again without puffing.

"You tell me. It was your idea."

"Hey, you looked so… different when you came back. For a moment, I thought you'd spank my ass for, well, I didn't know what for. That's why I wanted a fair trial. But you picked my idea up and cast yourself in all the roles. And you told me I need to go horizontal on all those. How many was that? Lawyers, judge,… will you be the bailiff and the court clerk too?"

"Yup," she only made, and it sounded like she had done the counting already and was only open to discussing the sequence in which he had to fulfill his duty to all of the roles she would play.

Chuck still was wrapping his mind around it.

"So that's… and the jury is twelve people, I assume? And all are you, and with all of 'em I have to…?"

"Yup," she said again. There was no room for discussion about that.

"And what was that thing about the carni-who?" Chuck asked curiously.

"That just slipped out, forget it," Sarah deflected, and he was still too over the moon to notice the tiniest undercurrent of uneasiness creeping into her voice.

"You know you can't fob me off like that!"

He gently lifted her head and craned his so their eyes met.

"Hey, look at me. Nerd Supreme. I wanna know."

She sighed.

No escaping the curiosity of the nerd. You gotta live with that, Walker.

"Carnifex. It's an old word for the hangman. But don't memorize that."

"Too late," he replied. It was an interesting word, hard to forget.

"No, I'm serious. It's fun to banter, but not everything is," Sarah explained, and he understood. Or he would have liked to be the understanding boyfriend but failed.

"You mean… oh, I get it. No, I don't."

"Chuck," she patiently said as she laid her head on his chest again. "Hangman. I associate hangman with death and pain, and pain I associate with torture. Regarding sex, that spells BDSM and stuff. Some people get off on that, and it's Ok if it's consensual and doesn't include me."

Sarah kissed his chest and placed her hand on the spot. Chuck sensed she had become a bit unstrung. She didn't look at him and stroked his chest nervously.

"I almost died many times for real. I have been captured, bound, and tortured, and not for fun. No safeword. I agonized in pain so bad I don't want to remember. I don't even want to talk about it and sex in the same sentence because pain and torture are no games for me. In every mission, there's the chance that I have to experience it again. No," she shuddered. "Nothing that makes the earth move for me."

"I'm sorry I was insistent and made you talk," Chuck apologized, and his voice was hollow and full of sorrow to have evoked such nightmares. She soothed him and was honest about it.

He was her man. Not yet officially, but by heart. There would be nothing she wouldn't tell him, except for presents and gifts. God, she felt giddy at the idea of going shopping and buying something for him.

"No, now that it's out, it's OK. It's good to talk with you. It's liberating that I can tell you what I don't like?" Sarah ended with a question mark, and he simply stroked her hair, which she took as a gesture to continue.

"Along that same line, I don't like chains or handcuffs or being bound. I need to be free when having sex. The only thing that can restrain me is your body," she explained. "And don't hit me, don't beat me, don't slap me. For the same reason as what I said before – I get that often enough along with the job."

Sarah didn't have to mention that she had been slapped and beaten when Langston Graham had raped her. That alone was reason enough to have an extreme detestation for such practices. But she perceived that he could read between the lines as she felt his back stiffen.

"You can tell me everything, and no one ever will hear," he said just in case. "And you're safe with me anyway. I don't dig what you mentioned. I guess I'm a little old-fashioned in the bedroom."

"I didn't have the impression so far," she sighed, and there was the unnecessary – how could she expect any other feedback from him? - relief over his reaction, and that made her words fall a bit flat.

"Glad you're happy," he said playfully. "But let me take your mind off of this. We leave that Carni-we-won't-mention out and return to the trial orgy."

"Ok," she chirped, grateful to change the topic but also relieved that she had someone to talk to. Someone who listened and who did not even had to come up with a piece of wise advice. Just being here with her and facing her demons together. She knew she could have found no one better than Chuck.

"A different place would be nice now," he sighed and fingered for a tissue box, which she took thankfully. He then carried her to the bed, leaned himself comfortably against the headboard, and pulled her between his legs, her back against his chest. He kissed the back of her head and elaborated on the fantasy trial where Chuck and Sarah would play all the people.

"So I would have to sweep all these people off their feet and into my arms, and all these people are you?" he took up the earlier frivolous banter.

"Yup," she confirmed. Her voice already sounded livelier. And his ego certainly had taken a few giant steps for all of nerdkind, since she saw that suspicious twitch of his eyebrows that heralded a rather saucy remark.

"So this basically would be a gangbang for two, right? A pretty new concept, I have to say. But rather stressful for the one guy who has to take on all those you's."

Chuck seemed interested but pensive.

"You're pretty raunchy for a harmless nerd, gangbang for two," she said, a bit more serious than she meant it because she wasn't serious at all. Chuck immediately began to stammer, falling over himself in his wish to be the perfect boyfriend.

"Is … that a … problem? Do you think I should talk with more … uhm, restraint… more… polite? Do you think I objectify you … or lack respect?" he asked, and there was clear evidence in his voice that the accused was conscious that there would be severe consequences in case he had overstepped.

"For the very last time, Mr. B.!"

There was that hard 'B' again. She craned her head back so she could look into his eyes.

"I wouldn't be with you if I assumed you would be interested only in sex or see me as an object. We possibly would have had a one-night-stand the night the Intersect was out of your head because that's what they are here for, and because you're cute. And then I would be gone to my next mission. But to hell with one-night-stands, as a famous writer once wrote. I'm absolutely in this, in us. This is our future. I'm bold enough to assume you're in it too. And right now, I want to enjoy the earthly side of our love."

"I'm so in it, too," Chuck sighed with the determination not to bring this up again.

You better grow up, Chuck, he reminded himself. She said she loves me. She said I'm everything.

"So, say, you'd be the prosecutor, with a sharp pants suit, and pointing a perfectly manicured finger at the defendant to make me wilt under your pressure… letting your hair and your suit down and squeezing every last drop of truth out of me in the witness box?"

"Hmm, see, that's what I mean," she confirmed and snickered. "You have such a dirty way with words, Chuck, squeezing every last drop of truth out of you, I like that."

Her approval made him bolder. His hands, which had rested at her stomach when he had slung his arms around her from behind, began to wander over her skin tenderly.

Does she like to role-play, or is it merely a play of words?

"And you'd be the cleaning woman too, and we would have a hot quickie in the broom cupboard?"

"Hmm," she made and shifted her back a bit against his chest, so his hands had free reign on her front side. He couldn't see much but her hair and shoulder, but she wanted to grant him access to all her delicatessen.

"That reminds me of that day when you threw me down in the Wienerlicious' storage room to keep our cover. God, that was hot, Sarah. Have you ever wondered what would have happened if we just had given in?" Chuck snickered this time.

"Hmm," she replied. Over and over.

"Or… let's see, who didn't we have… yeah, the judge. Would we retreat into your chambers for legal information, and you would show me that you're wearing nothing under your robe? Would we go over some legislative texts right there at your huge mahogany table? Exercising the full power of the law on me?"

Chuck had been teasing only, but the longer he spoke, the less he heard from Sarah. Only her breath seemed to pick up, and her hands occasionally touched his as if she was encouraging him to stoke up the fire his hands and words had ignited.

"But when I'd be acquitted – and there's no doubt about it as the whole case was shambled and constructed only to allow you to have your way with me in every imaginable way - you'd be the cute count clerk with thick glasses and the hair strictly tied back too? The shrinking violet shyly looking at the handsome delinquent and hoping I would notice her?"

He paused, but she remained silent. He heard her labored breathing, and she squirmed a little, probably owed to his hands, which still stroked her sensually. For a few minutes, he didn't say anything as she arched into his touches until she pressed her face against his shoulder and made a few soft mewling sounds. Chuck believed she would like to repose a bit, but she told him otherwise, her voice dark and stricken with desire.

"I love what you're doing, … and I love you, Chuck. Don't think I'm sex-crazed, but tell me more, and don't deny me your touch."

He brought his lips to her ear again and told her how his date with court clerk Sarah would proceed.

"Of course, I would ask her out, take her to a Mexican place, where we get to learn about each other's minds and past, and then to a music club, where we would be dancing close and learn a bit about each other's desires. We'd have a roaring time and fall for each other. When I brought her home, she would tell me that she's not one of those girls usually, but if I wanted to come up for a nightcap?"

Sarah coughed silently, and he took that as approval. She seemed too engrossed in the tales he told her to talk to him.

"I would come up, and the ice cubes would melt in our glasses while we would make passionate love all night long. I would feel like a sex god having her pulled away from her wallflower existence, and she would feel like an angel, having discovered the passionate woman inside herself. Romantic music, end credits, happy ending."

Sarah meowed a little and tried to conceal it.

"Wow," he eventually said, again lifting her head and delicately holding her chin so he could look into her eyes that featured a rare mix of debauchery and vulnerability.

Sarah Walker is into role-playing. Who would have thought that?

"I'm game if you like," he said with a low, gentle voice, trying to express love and understanding, and not lust and desire. It was hot enough already. At least his voice should assure her that all this was happening because he truly loved her, for more than only that heavenly body.

"Really?" she inquired, but her lips already parted with a smile. "What would you do to the poor county clerk who is helpless against your panty-dropping virility?"

"Something like this…" Chuck said and shifted her whole body in one smooth move that made her melt already, and when she lay on her back, he began to kiss and fondle her. He preceded each new stage with a "…and then something like this…" and with every new something, she began to quiver with more and more emotion. When they were one, and she thought it couldn't get any better, a something that was sheer ecstasy washed over her and shook her so powerfully that she had to hold on to him for dear life not to lose her mind. She didn't recognize her own voice anymore when she cried out his name because it was so full of animal lust.

An immeasurable span of time later, she was looking up to him with big and dreamy eyes. He shook his head lovingly, and there was not the tiniest speck of tease in his features.

"I'm a nerd, so I role-played most of my life-"

He interrupted himself as Sarah gave him a very questioning look, and he laughed.

"No, no, games, Sarah, computer games."

She shook her head.

I should have known.

"Still, I am aware of role-playing and what it takes. And about you, yeah, I see it," Chuck said, kissing her face. "It's your second nature to play a role, so why not for a change play a role you enjoy?"

"You got it," she confirmed with a deep sigh, feeling so incredibly sheltered not only in his arms but also in his soul. "Can... I pick it up from here?"

"Sure… hey, right now?" he exclaimed when she began to kiss him immediately.

"Now is as good a time as any."

She didn't stop what she started.

"Woman, you're breakin' me!" he moaned.

"It's only a muscle, Chuck. It can't break."

"Actually, Ms. Walker, it's not a muscle. I don't know if I should trust you my non-muscle for further activities if you don't even know the necessary-"

"Right now, I would like to be Mrs. Carmichael," she interrupted, being a tad too eager to banter any longer. "And that whatever-it-is-not is a must-have prop in our fantasy."

"Your luck, Mr. Carmichael is at hand… hey, I didn't mean it that way!"

"Your wife understood it that way," she purred. It took her only a short while to pull him into her game, using all her charms to rekindle the passion in Mr. Carmichael. She reversed their roles and ended up on top of him and took charge. He eventually understood her buckin' bronco quip from last night.

But Sarah didn't know what came over her.

Chuck was right. She was perfect at role-playing. She was Mrs. Carmichael if she decided to be at the snap of a finger. But where did that specific wish come from right this minute? She was his anyway, in every incarnation she could dream up – and in reality. Did her fascination for the cover stem from the fact that the Carmichaels were married, were husband and wife? Did their legal cover status make any difference to her, Sarah? Why should it?

Mr. Bartowski and Ms. Walker. Boyfriend and girlfriend.

Nothing to complain about. I got him. I got the boy I want, and he is mine unconditionally and endlessly. What could I ask more? … What could he ask more?

Mr. and Mrs. Carmicael. Husband and wife.

Names were irrelevant. Sarah played a young wife that had found the man she wanted to spend her life with. She was head-over-heels in love, wooed by the way he never stopped to romance her, and desirous of exploring, again and again, every inch of his body. Curious to learn all the ways to make him shout her name. And above all the worldly pleasures, floating in the exciting knowledge that she was married to him, that she belonged to a heart that belonged to her, and not only her outer appearance but also her soul. At last.

During their lovemaking, she mused that this certain role-play of being his wife probably could become her favorite one. Then it struck her forcefully joyfully. She slipped out of her role, in parts, at least. She was still his wife, but not Mrs. Carmichael anymore. She was…

Sarah Walker. Mr. and Mrs. Bartowski. Sarah … Bartowski?

The insight that her best role ever was to be the woman Chuck loved and that this required no acting as it dawned on her that it was her favorite role - and it wasn't a role, it was herself! - was the ultimate turn-on. She felt a rush of blood and, within another second, knew that her whole face, neck, and upper torso had taken on a pink and heated tone. No games, no playing. Two real people madly in love. The realization catapulted her into the seventh heaven, and she let him know with roughly 90 decibels.

•••••••••••••••••••

Chuck still heavily puffed and lay there, a hand weakly stroking Sarah's hips but otherwise recovering from the natural force that was Sarah Walker.

"Wow, you came over me like a hurricane," he wheezed, trying to find his composure, showing clear signs of what he had gotten himself into. When she was going full blast, he only could hold on and hope to match her passion.

On the other hand, Sarah Walker was hyperactive. She smiled, she grinned, she laughed, she held his face in her palms and peppered it with quick, wet kisses, and she breathed, 'Thank you, thank you, thank you' repeatedly.

"You're welcome," Chuck panted, "I would appreciate a letter of recommendation so I can add it to my resume."

She arched her head and torso back and, still sitting on him, shook from laughter. Her eyes beamed with delight when she lowered her face back to him.

"That won't be necessary. I will keep you forever. You can tear up your bloody resume and tell all them brunettes that the place at your side is taken."

As great as he felt about her words, he raised an eyebrow. Something had clicked inside Sarah, other than what she had begun to call her Sarahgasms. He had registered that somehow but could not decrypt it.

"What... I mean… what did I do differently this time? Let me know, and I'll add it to my repertoire."

Sarah returned to kiss his face all over in quick succession.

"You… didn't do… anything… oh, sorry… you did… a lot, oooh, what a lot you did to me… but what made me… what… hmm I like your lips… I realized again you are so deep in my soul, … irreversibly ... anchored into my life… and that was like a flash in my mind… it's strange to explain… but I had… I had… like a… Sarahgasm in my brain."

She stopped what she was doing and looked so adorably sweet at him that he thought he would melt that instant.

"Yeah, the mind," he said, gently tapping a finger on her forehead. "Most of the sex happens in the brain."

Sarah grinned.

"I'm overwhelmed by what it does to my mind, but you have that wrong. Most of the sex happens in this room. And I intend to stay underdressed and oversexed most of the week."

"I created a sex monster!" he groaned while facepalming.

"You know, one of the things I like about you is your quick intellect," Sarah teased him.

"Heaven help me! I created a hump-happy, wicked-tongued sex beast!"

Hump-happy, wicked-tongued sex beast? Walker, your own fault. Why did you give him that 'underdressed and oversexed' pun? And gushing over how he makes you climax? That could get into a boy's head, both of 'em. Now better steer him to the tricky part of the interview so you can get back to being… errm… a hump-happy, wicked-tongued sex beast? Gosh, Walker!

"Careful, Mr. B.!"

There was the hard-pronounced 'B' again, and this time, he blinked.

Good. I have your attention. Now take a full broadside, Chuckie!

"You did not complain about my wicked tongue earlier today."

"Touché," he admitted with a ditzy grin and, out of nowhere, very red cheeks.

"What way would you do to get rid of a monster? A theoretical question," she changed the topic. "A real monster," she could not believe hearing herself say it.

He seemed genuinely stoked about the question and looked like he had an 'I'm glad you ask' on his lips.

He is so adorable I could squeal like Ellie. And do very un-sisterly things to him. Hold your horses, Walker! At least a few minutes!

She listened patiently to him rambling how monsters had been discarded in various movies, TV shows, and video games until he stopped. It was a show of force of nerdism, but he was lively, engaged, entertaining, happy to share his knowledge, and not the least self-entitled. They had all week, she mused as she smiled at him, and he would sometime stop babbling. Would he?

"Pretty impressive and pretty complicated," she summarized his speech with the right amount of admiration and served him a hint. "Wouldn't it be more convenient to have a tank full of deadly fishes and feed our monster to them? Like in that James Blunt movie."

Haha, you're so easy, Chuck, she thought when she saw his face. Chuck gave her a wordless look with his best impression of blood-lined eyes.

Sarah giggled. "James Bond," she corrected and then stuck her tongue out.

"I would bite that tongue off if I didn't know how talented it is," he quipped and nodded. "Yes, Bond. In 'Thunderball', that bad guy Largo fed people to the Golden Grotto sharks in his pool."

"I'm not talking about 'Thunderball,'" Sarah denied.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, in 'Live And Let Die', Bond and Jane Seymour as Solitaire almost get eaten by sharks."

"I'm not talking about 'Live And Let Die' either."

Getting there, very well. I will guide him to the moment when he comes clean himself. I don't want to confront him like I'm angry.

He frowned.

"Ahhhh. Yes. In 'The Spy Who Loved Me', Karl Stromberg tries to kill Bond by dumping him, or so he thought, to the sharks. And if you tell me that's not what you're talking about, the only other is 'License To Kill' with the trap door leading to a Great White one and that. Is. About. It. No more sharks."

There was an authority in his expression. He knew his Bond like she knew her martial arts.

"I'm not talking about either, either, and now I know I'm not thinking about sharks," she snickered.

"I gave a lecture about all the shark moments in Bond, and you didn't tell me before that sharks weren't the topic?" he grumbled good-naturedly.

"I love to listen to you," she replied as simple as honest and let him have a generous helping of the magical happy blue of her orbs to which she thought he was entitled anyway because he had put it there in the first place.

"Bon Appetit," she said instead of an answer, and it clicked with Chuck immediately. Bond was cult. It was common knowledge, and he suddenly got edgy.

"Very good, Sarah, that was in 'You Only Live Twice', when Bond pushed Blofeld's bodyguard into the fish tank with these words, 'Bon Appetit.'"

"I can't seem to remember what fish these were," Sarah pondered and made a face of sincerely stressing herself by trying to remember. She looked so lovely and irresistible that Chuck instinctively helped her out and blurted, "Piranhas!"

Sarah smiled silently, merely staring at him with a friendly inviting mien, making clear that she would not say a word or even make a sound and that she expected something substantial from him. He stared back a little while, stared into the air, let his gaze wander over her delicate frame, and then returned to her eyes. The confusion gave way to understanding first and then to a not too heavy resignation.

Aaaand… now! Spill it, lover of mine. It cleanses the soul.

"Ok, alright, you win. You mustn't tell anyone. I am THE Piranha, the hacker."

Dang, that still blows me away!

Though having anticipated it, Sarah still gasped.

How could he escape all the governmental powers all these years? He actually must be a genius. My Chuck! But the dangers!

"Why did you come back after such a long time?" Sarah asked.

"You said what a disaster it would be if the CIA would decrypt Graham's files. I removed them from the CIA servers, and you know the rest."

It sounded so simple, but Piranha or not, it was a mighty feat that came with a high risk. She realized he had put his own out there once more for her.

"You did that for me? I'm sorry, that was a dopey question," she searched for the right words. "That means more for me than I can express. I know you think I'm actually a hump-happy, wicked-tongued sex beast, but you have to understand that I never fell in love before. Everything before you was cheap and petty. Now I suddenly have… what is it you are to me? I feel I am connected to you on a level much beyond this…"

She gestured at the bed with the last word before she continued.

"Are you my soulmate? I love you unconditionally in every way. True, I can't wait to get that robe off of you and do some naughty, messy things with you. But I also can't wait to simply sit next to you and fall asleep on your shoulder over one of those space operas."

Chuck winced, and Sarah smirked.

"No offense. I like them because the underlying naive message is to believe that the good will overcome. That's why I'm an agent. But I'm also a human being. I was on a long, pitiless journey against the world and myself. I was a cold person. I killed too many people upon Graham's words, sensing just like with my father, that things were not what they were supposed to be. I should have questioned Graham's decisions. Yeah, I hear you. 'Hers not to reason why, hers but to do or die'. Graham would have had me eliminated if I didn't follow his orders. One of these orders years ago was to find the Piranha - dead or alive. And General Beckman thinks about the same lines."

Chuck blanched, and before he could begin to stammer, Sarah proceeded.

"Why did you ask that Beckman should apologize to all Spartans?"

"I thought by asking for all I could distract from the fact that it was about you."

"That's a clever idea," Sarah lauded. "Still, we have to consider that Beckman may wonder why this happened right after she told me about the files. I don't think anyone but she, Dunford, and the computer jocks have known about their existence. You didn't talk to anyone, right?"

"I'm not that much of a moron, Sarah."

"First, you aren't a moron by a wide margin, and second, you would be my moron. You are the most wanted hacker worldwide. You know that-"

Sarah saw his face and stopped. She had given him that speech yesterday, and she knew he had fully comprehended her words, so she was not as urgent this time. The concern in her voice and on her features was genuine. She would have been worried if she had been still his handler, but he was her boyfriend - now she was scared that she could not protect him all the while. Long years of spy work had taught her that it was impossible to be around to protect him every minute and that it was essential that he understood his part of the job to keep them a couple.

"I can't express how thankful I am that nobody ever will see these files," she said softly. "But I was anxious when I sensed you could be the hacker. Don't ever talk to anyone!"

Sarah repeated the last sentence and was relieved to note that he listened seriously.

"Don't ever talk to anyone. But we two need to discuss it sometime soon."

She wanted to ask him why he didn't tell her and that the next time the Piranha bites, she needed to know before, but that could wait for another day.

"Don't worry, Sarah. That's my game, and as you noticed, I'm very good at it. I do not underestimate your IT specialists, but nobody could ever find out about me or retrieve the files. These are gone for good. Nothing can bring them back."

Chuck fished a stray hair out of her face. It was an almost routine gesture, but it took him two attempts to tuck it behind her ear since her hair was tousled, and he felt he had one half of the responsibility for that. Sarah savored the moment. She could hastily kiss his hand like a fleeting, precious thing, or she could grab it and press it on her cheek to feel its warmth, or she could sinfully move it to any spot on her body where she wanted it. The most beautiful thing was that she didn't need to decide. She could have all of it, whenever she wanted, time and time again, so she just held it against her cheek.

"Did you look at them?" She was confident she knew the answer and felt a surge of love before he even opened his mouth.

"Hell, no, Sarah. Though I'm optimistic I could crack them, I didn't even try. Given that some of them must be about you, that would be totally inappropriate. Whatever I learn about you should come from your lips."

Sarah sniffed for a few moments, and she even didn't know why. She had expected exactly that from him. After she gained control of herself again, she looked at him in a nurturing way.

"I hate to say it, but we have to eat something. You should drink plenty of juice and water to replenish your loss of fluids. And what do you think about oysters as an appetizer, asparagus cream soup, steak with scrambled eggs, and celery salad?"

•••••••••••••••••••

It was a nuisance, but they had ordered room service and got dressed—a bit. Chuck simply donned a terrycloth robe, while Sarah added one of his long-sleeve dress shirts underneath. She lovingly fed Chuck, and he sensed he was crammed for the slaughter. When he inquired about it, she only smiled cryptically.

A knock on the door interrupted the two-headed solitude. For a change, the door did not open immediately afterward. That was something new and potentially dangerous – people storming the room like a SWAT team, on the other hand, had proved harmless so far. They heard Casey's voice from outside.

"Are you guys decent?"

Sarah and Chuck looked at each other and burst into laughter.

"Come in, Casey," they shouted in unison, and a few seconds later, the man stood in front of their table and looked down at the dishes.

"You're actually the first to knock and wait before entering," Chuck remarked.

"I don't want to go blind, moron. Glad to see you dressed and out of bed," Casey grumbled. "I was afraid someone would be stirring honey into someone's yogurt."

"Pretty simple euphemism this time, don't you think, Casey?" Chuck asked.

"It's the simple things in life that make it worth living – like getting a fresh shipment of MREs after living on roots, rats, and worms in a cave in Afghanistan for two weeks."

Chuck looked at the table. "I think I'm done eating. No, scratch that, I'm pretty sure."

The pleasantries exchanged, Casey snapped to attention.

"The surveillance station is dismantled-"

"Casey," Sarah stopped him. "At ease. Nothing has changed. You don't need to salute or stand at attention."

"You are now-"

Sarah knew exactly where she stood with Casey and that she would not change a flawlessly working team's parameters.

"We're still partners, Casey. We have worked brilliantly together the past year, and I wouldn't let anything get into the way of our success. I know you are an old Marine and believe in rank, but I will not change anything about how we work and run our missions. Copy that?"

"Copy, Walker," he replied with the glint of the high esteem in his eyes that roughly equaled a bone-crushing hug from Ellie. "We are the last agents on the premises, and I'll be out as I leave you guys. See you in a week."

Before he was out the door, Sarah's voice arrested him.

"Casey?"

"Walker?"

"Thank you for extending our booking here."

Casey grinned.

"There are lots of explosives down at Castle. It would be way too dangerous if someone caramelized someone's crème brulée with his flambé burner there."

Then he was gone. Sarah blinked.

"You'll get used to it," Chuck dryly said and patted her hand.

Sarah shook her head in amusement, got up, and went to the bathroom. She came out again with a few guest towels, and walked out onto the terrace, placed them neatly on the long rattan table, and seemed to check what area the large sunshade covered. She strolled back to the door, searched for a moment, and then found a button which she pressed. Large awnings covered what the sunshade didn't after half-a-minute. She turned to the breakfast table, picked up the plate with the grapes and a bottle of water, and put both on the table outside.

Satisfied with her preparations, she turned to him.

"You said you're done eating," she lured as she dropped the bathrobe, standing there in his unbuttoned dress shirt. "Time for dessert."

"I'm gonna get fat from all the dessert," Chuck joked.

Sarah reassured him. "Don't worry about that. You'll get plenty of exercise to earn your desserts."

She held her breath as an idea occurred to her while she walked over to him.

"I'm crazy for your touch, but I never had a boyfriend before. I never had so much sex. I'm lovin' it. Will we continue that way?"

Chuck gave the question the serious consideration it deserved.

"Until my dying day," he told her, and she beamed with girlish delight he knew she put on for his entertainment. "But…" he said gravely, and her face fell over his tone, "no man ever was put to such an endurance test. I'll give my best, but my dying day may be closer than you think."

She swatted his chest.

"For a moment, you had me scared, goofball. Don't worry. I'll make you rest, and I'll nourish you, and if it can't be avoided, I'll make sure that you'll die a very happy man. How does that sound?"

God, she made that look exactly the fate he always had wished for!

"You made me an offer I can't refuse," he laughed.

She peeled the robe off of his shoulders and pulled him to the terrace door. The saucy glint in her eyes spoke volumes, and he knew his question was an academic one.

"In stark daylight, Sarah?" Chuck asked.

"No one can see us," she explained with a shrug. "And they're used to hearing us by now."

He seemed undecided.

"Please, Chuck," she begged with shiny and pleading eyes. "This is one of the things I haven't told you. I'd like to make love in… different places."

Sarah pointed to the sunshade.

"I am no exhibitionist. I don't like being watched, but I like…" she trailed off, giving him the sexiest pout. He stepped out with her – what resistance had he anyway against Sarah Walker –, and she literally danced around him, enthusiastically. She was a young woman that had gotten her way and would thank him by making him glad that he was born a man.

"Thank you so much, I know it's a sacrifice for you, but you won't regret it."

"Sacrifice?" he parroted. "Oh yes, yes. Tough luck that I end up with the most beautiful girlfriend with a heart of gold and as sex-starved as a ship full of sailors who haven't seen a port in two years."

The following pat on the chest also served to have him sit down at the comfortable rattan couch, which was large enough for her plans. She had checked that with a quick look.

"Will we… will we visit other places too?"

"If you go these places with me…" she began and saw his affirmative face, "… yes, we will. I am so excited, Chuck. I finally can have my fantasies. Don't look so strange, no, I never did any of that, hotel rooms had to be enough for me so far in my hectic life."

"If all the dirty fantasies you have is to make love somewhere else than on the four-post playing field, then let me see your bucket list of those places," he gave his word, only to forcefully shudder as she leaned over him, kissed his temple, and whispered in his ear.

"Friend, soul mate, lover man, lend me your ears: You haven't seen anything yet. And nothing is dirty between us if we both are in it, right? I've seen how you look at me in that dress shirt. I promise this is not the last time I wear it, and also that I will find lingerie you will love to take off of me."

And that was the last thing he heard for a while except for her sounds of pleasure and encouragement and his equally enthusiastic returns. Her lithe, slender, and oh so voluptuous body drove him out of his mind, and he reveled in the joy she experienced and the one she gave. There came an instant, her hair flying, her body writhing, her lips making the sweetest sounds he ever heard, when he caught her eyes so brimming over with love that he had to stop her.

"Sarah, stop, Sarah," he groaned. "Slow down, Sarah, stop. Don't move an inch. Don't even bat your eyelids."

She looked down at him and grinned, her minor frustration nulled by the desperate look on his face. It was heavenly that there were moments when they were totally at each other's mercy amidst all the mutual playing. She wasn't going to let this slip away.

Sarah gave him a very few seconds and then pressed her body on his, cupping his cheeks left and right, bringing her face close to his and filling his vision with her blue spheres that sparkled like gems.

"I'm going to move now, Chuckie, and don't hold back. I know already how ... it feels inside me, but ... I want to look in your eyes when you…" she trailed off, hypnotizing him into blissful agony. He was absolutely helpless against her, and his words were a weak attempt to keep the inevitable from happening.

"But what about you, this is not only about me, and I'd feel bad if I left you-"

The throaty laugh escaped her so quickly she was surprised but not ashamed to hear it.

"You think you can outrun me? Chuck, I'm a bit ahead of you in the count of… Sarahgasms, so just fulfill my wish."

He sighed, not sounding unhappy, with barely concealed pride that she thought he was entitled to.

"Put your hands on my tushy ... or wherever you want, look me in the eyes, and ... let me do the rest. Come, don't fight, enjoy me, Chuckie, feel our love."

Sarah had all the right in the world to speak about love because, since yesterday, she knew it, understood it - and had one. As she held him and watched his rapture in smiling, breathless wonder, she stroked his hair and cheeks and neck and kissed his face and whispered fervent 'I love yous'.

When Chuck finally closed his eyes after fulfilling her wish to let her see his emotions, he lay peacefully and absolutely spent under her. Sarah smiled content over the frabjous and utter destruction she had caused and meditated about their love, the journey they had taken individually to arrive at this point, and the one together that lay ahead. She understood that her journey had only begun.

Their love had taken a bumpy road. It had never been a smooth journey on streets paved with gold. It had not been a quick joyride either. Sometimes the road had been only gravel, sand and dirt, filled with potholes and no curb to guide. It had taken true determination to stay on her path with many roadblocks and detours, but she had known all along that life was not a sleek, shiny, asphalted highway.

So she had traveled that troublesome and lonesome road, sometimes under the cold pouring rain of a world not understanding her, sometimes under the heat of the relentless sun of spy life pressure. Finally, her journey made sense.

Because of him.

Suddenly Chuck had been there at the crossroads. Stubbornly, she had hurt him and herself, receiving wounds in the process from him too, by always taking the wrong turn, but never leaving him behind, always dragging him along. Last week, both of them came to understand that their most recent crossroad decision was their most crucial, and they had deliberately chosen the road where both of them could walk together, side by side, hand in hand. She comprehended that her journey was far from over - but now she had a loyal companion, so the consistently uphill of life wouldn't tear her down anymore.

From now on, it was a noble struggle, and she realized it was not about the destination as they joined hands. It was about the journey into the unknown of life they would take together. When the road would be rocky, they would steady each other. When the night came, and their way was drowned in blackness, they would hold hands, and neither would get lost until the morning dawned again. But when the sun shone and the air was as warm and flowery as their love, the road was a bright and happy place. They would carefreely sing and dance, play their games - and make plans and memories. She understood that as long as they continued their journey, there would always be a road for them to explore - because that was life, and, in another life-altering epiphany, she knew that was all she asked from it.

She finally left her favorite place in the world, right on top of him, where she had ridden out both her lust and her angst and found the truth of love, discovered all the passion and care and every other feeling she had attached to love only in fairytales, and snuggled to his side. Chuck was snoozing, but alert enough to put an arm around her and stroke her back leisurely, mumbling affectionately, "Chuck Bartowski loves Sarah Walker."

Sarah had said, sighed, and screamed it many times in countless variations the past two days, but it didn't get old, and it never would. She happily repeated it as the man of her dreams - lover, friend, soul mate - deliciously rested against her bare skin. She reciprocated his words, altering them only a little bit, notably skipping their surnames and adding a word that was a promise. Possibly, he would understand the hint and pop the question. If he did not in due time, she would gently guide him to it. But she trusted those beautiful chocolate brown eyes.

"Sarah loves Chuck. Eternally."

•••••••••••••••••••

A/N (3) Hers not to reason why, hers but to do or die: My second paraphrase from the second verse of the poem 'The Charge of the Light Brigade' (1854) by Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892). The original lines read, 'Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die.' A mighty fine poem, but you may have a notion by now that I like it.

A/N (3) Friend, soul mate, lover man, lend me your ears: That, of course, is a barely concealed reference to Mark Antony's first line of his speech (act III, scene II) at Julius Caesar's funeral in 'Julius Caesar' (1599) by William Shakespeare. Sarah Walker would have been a well-educated woman to make such references. The original read, 'Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.'

A/N (4) MRE: The Meal, Ready-to-Eat – commonly known as the MRE – is a self-contained, individual field ration in lightweight packaging bought by the United States Department of Defense for its service members for use in combat or other field conditions where organized food facilities are not available.

A/N (5) Given that I wrote dozens of chapters of Sarah and Chuck, I feel as entitled to own 'Chuck' as anyone who ever wrote FF. Alas, like all of you, I don't.

A/N (6) I want to thank all readers and especially reviewers for their time, support, and for simply sticking with my first attempt at writing. It has been a wonderful, breathtaking journey (pun intended) and it was so because of all of you. Thank you!

A/N (7) There is one man responsible for weathering every crisis the process of writing this story threw at me, and that is WillieGarvin. His fabulous insight into the Chuck dynamics, the harsh life of spies, the procedures and protocols, numerous writing tips, and motivating words to keep me going - well, actually, you should thank him a lot. That is, if you liked this story - if you didn't, then I wonder what you're still doing here. Where was I? Oh yes, thank WillieGarvin. You can do so by reading his stories, like the epic "Chuck vs. A New Day".

A/N (8) There's a tiny little nod to the very first chapter of The Epic Story Of Chuck-Fanfiction, Chuck versus A New Day, hidden in this chapter.

A/N (9) No use beating around the bush, so I just say it: The End. There will be an epilogue very very soon, but the story ends here.

A/N (10) Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of your kind words. I take a bow, honored and happy, and request that my beta stands next beside me.