A/N – As hinted by the name, the concept of this chapter was the inspiration for writing the entire story. This story was suppose to be a side project while I worked on a separate WIP, but it complelety took over. Either way, I still don't and wouldn't own Chuck.

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Sarah was cold. Cold in her bones, tired in her mind, sore in her fists. Her side was burning, and she focused on it.

Black, her past. Always her choice who to stab, who to cut, who bleeds.

Red, their blood. Dripping off her side, her arm; plastic surgeons hiding the red from view.

Grey, the faces of her targets. After their red ran, drained and disposed.

Dead, the parents of the child. Innocent, happy, destroyed by her kind, avenged by her. A harbinger.

Dark, her future. Vengeance's gift: blind to hope, friend of the knife's point.

Someone was moving her, but she couldn't understand who it was. Was it her foes, dragging her in for interrogation? But these hands were kind, gentle, pulling warmth around her, lifting her onto a bed as snug as her down pillow and aglow as a campfire. She tried to focus on the warmth, force herself into consciousness, but she was suddenly jostled about and lifted high. She found herself waiting for a fall that never came, just more shaking and rattling in her skull until the warmth against her back returned and she felt herself slipping away, unable to grasp at the whispers in her ear as she let go, finding herself unable to fight any longer.

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A young girl stopped and looked at her shoes. They were new and quite pretty, and had you asked she would have told you so. Her Mom said the deep navy was a good contrast with her blond hair, but she liked them for the flower pattern stamped into the leather and the clickyness of the metal snap-clasp. They were much prettier than where she was right now: a barren black wasteland of darkness and gloom. Somehow it seemed as if the surface of the ground was eternally slick when you were standing but sharp if you sat down. Neither the darkness nor slick nor sharp bothered her though, she would just walk as if her mother was with her and she could manage to move without falling. She didn't like to be alone like this, but she was on a mission. Sisters take care of each other, and her sister was lost, needing her Chuck, longing to step out of safety. A small black door just her size was now visible in the side of a jet-black cabin standing alone in the midst of the darkness. Her light slowly brightened the walls as she approached and rested a spread hand against the door where the knob should have been, but wasn't. She pushed and the door opened, no match for the love of a sister. The inside was dark, but not black. It was red, crimson coating that threatened to stain like a dropped cherry. There was one figure in the room, standing over by a window that the girl had not seen from the outside of the building. The figure's gaze was steady, never looking away from her hands, always avoiding the outside. Molly walked over to Sarah and reached for her hand. A hand at waist height is quite a reach for a three year old, but Molly managed. The touch seemed to startle Sarah, forcing her to look away from her hands and into Molly's eyes.

"Sarah, remember."

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Sarah was surprised Molly had been able to sneak up on her like that, but it fit: family and friends were the only ones to surprise her. Why Molly was here in this prison of hers she did not know, but as soon as she spoke Molly was gone and Sarah was once again alone, staring at her blood-stained hands, unable to see. But now she could hear something, someone in the distance, yet impossibly close.

Hold on Sarah, I've got you, Casey and I came for you, we are taking you a doctor. Come back to me Sarah, I love you.

Casey? Love? No, Chuck – love.

Chuck!

He came for her? But she couldn't find her way through the darkness, could he see? Show her how to get the red out of her skin? She could feel him, she was sure. He must have been holding her from behind because sensations of vibrant warmth suffused through her, pushing away black and red, lighting the walls to show the rough-hewn logs out of which the walls had been built.

"No Chuck, I am a con, a killer, damaged. I can't love you like I should."

Sarah, you already have.

At his words memories began to flash through her mind: a prime minister, the president, a baby, Chuck, her Mom, a score of fellow agents, Carina, Ellie, Devon, a platoon of marines. On and on the images scrolled. All alive because of her sacrifices. She knew the memories were real, she had the scars to prove it. Physical scars from bullets and knives, mental scars from torture and death. She stumbled back from the window, retreating from the memories hidden behind her vision.

"Chuck!" She cried out, desperate to find a refuge from the emotions of each image.

I'm here baby, it's okay, you're safe. Please wake up, I need you.

"Chuck I can't, I can't be safe. Every decision I make hurts someone."

"You protected me, you never meant to hurt me. I need you to take care of me, to be someone I can call, someone who is there for me. Sarah, I need you because you love me."

She panicked, hurrying her words before they could take themselves back, "No Chuck, you can't need me, don't you see? I left my Mother behind because she wasn't exciting enough. I followed Graham into this life because I couldn't stand normalcy, couldn't go back what I stole from my Mom. I made your heart bleed every time I pushed you away, because I was scared, scared of the love that you have. A love I rejected as a child."

"Sarah, I don't know if you can hear me, but I have you. I'm not going to leave you, and you – you promised to come back. You owe me that."

Her head hurt, her heart hurt, and her castle of sticks was closing in on her. The walls seemed to close in, cramping her shoulders and pressing into her as she curled up with her knees pulled to her chest. Whispering, she spoke, "I can't Chuck. Every mission, every assassination that would tear me apart, I did it to destroy myself, to punish myself for every time I had hurt, or stolen, or lied. So what of me is left? So much of me is wrong. Chuck, I have nothing to give to you."

"You allowed yourself to be a tool. You are no more responsible for their deaths than the citizens that elected the officials that gave you the order."

"But Chuck, what if it worked. What if I did destroy every good part of me? What if I am an order-activated smart gun, mortem mechanica, the sum of all fears? Nothing I do can take away what I have done, remove the stain of the atrocities I have committed in the name of survival."

"Sarah, you saved me, saved others by sacrificing yourself, laying down your life for those not even your friends but for people you will never see. This is proof of your love. No one can say otherwise, they don't know you, love you like I do. And yes, I do know you. I flashed on most of your record. I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have but it just happened. Just come back so you can glare at me over a burger, please Sarah. I know you think you've earned your pain, but I don't care. You are mine, remember? You are mine and I am yours. I forgive you for whatever you think you've done to me, just come back, please."

Sarah had scrunched her eyes closed to avoid seeing the red, but now she could feel.

Wake up, it's time, little girl, wake up.

As the words stopped the water began, warm and salty and washing away the red of her skin. The water was magic, dissolving the wooded prison bars and stripping away the dark film that grayed her world. Instead, color.

The sudden burst of colors fled as rapidly as it had come, leaving drops of warm water splashing on her neck, blackness engulfing her, and straps restricting her movement.

She screamed.

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Chuck had spent the past five minutes since liftoff alternating between trying to keep Sarah calm and trying to keep himself from freaking out. She would mumble, cry, or freeze and barely breathe. He didn't know what else to do, so he would brush his fingers up and down her arm and talk to her. Ellie would probably give him that strange look and shake her head, but he was sure Sarah calmed down when he talked. He had managed to calm her down momentarily, but now he was loosing it and she wasn't awake to reminded him not to freak out. He started to count imaginary sheep – Sarah's alive, 1. Sarah is safe, 2. Casey did not shoot me, 3, -. He was just about to start the fourth when the most unexpected bloodcurdling scream tore through the pod and Sarah began to thrash wildly against the straps he had cinched around her. She screamed, he yelled, she thrashed, and he hoped nothing broke.

"Sara – OW, Oh ouch, it's me, Chuck. You're okay, we got you. Graham sent us and we got you."

Sarah froze, the rich depth of his voice causing her mind to sing. This was not a dream, this was real. He did have her, he did save her.

"Chuck?"

"Mm hmm?"

"You saved me?"

"Yeah, but don't worry, Casey handled anything to do with guns. Kept griping about his toe. Why are you still struggling so much? We need those straps for recovery."

"Because I want to kiss you and I can't turn around. You pulled me from the arctic and I want to kiss you but I can't because some stupid nylon strap is refusing to let me." Sarah huffed in frustration.

"Actually, I checked. These straps are more of a kevlar base than nylon. Kevlar and some – okay, I can sense the glare from behind you in the dark. I'll stop." He paused for a second, speaking again as a grin formed across his face. "Sarah."

"Yes Chuck."

"Just because you can't kiss me," he leaned down to the back of her neck, "doesn't mean I can't kiss you."

"Chuck?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

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A/N Chapter 6 – One of my very favorite parts of Chuck was a very specific aspect of the Charah relationship. Chuck was an excellent leader for Sarah from day one. Not perfect, but he could and did use his influence (coupled with his deep love for people) to show her a different way to live, a better love that was ultimately willing to sacrifice not only one's life but their heart for the good of someone else. I'll stop here before I start a sermon (I'm serious), but this is so critical for relationships. The slight roll reversal of the classic hero and damsel-in-distress allowed this influence to come to the forefront of the successes and failures in their relationship. Combine this with everything Sarah brought to the table, and I'm loving every minute of it. To finish this monologue, I firmly believe that if Chuck had been a more perfect leader we would have seen Charah together much faster.

I chose to not deny that Sarah has done terrible things, and I think this forgiveness Chuck gives is all the more powerful for it. Redemption, vindication. A way back from our hopelessness.

Loosing Your Memory – Ryan Star ended up upstaging the planned songs for this chapter. Terribly painful, perfect.