A/N: Pay close attention to this one.

Disclaimer: We don't own Chuck and we aren't making any money from this story.


They'd managed to leave the party without Stromberg or any of his men seeing them, the briefcase they came for in hand.

Chuck was unresponsive in the car, even as Sarah continued to check that he was breathing every few seconds on the way back to Castle, but Carina's experience as a DEA agent came in handy once they got him onto a cot. She pegged the gas as a strain of nitrous oxide, the same sort of strain that dentists used to perform oral surgery.

And as he slept it off in the other room, specifically in a spot where she could still keep her eye on him, Casey brought General Beckman in through video conference.

"General," he muttered with a serious nod.

"Agents." She glanced around, almost as if taking a head count. "Where's Bartowski?"

"He took the brunt of the security measures in the vault while he was stealing the briefcase, General, but the little tike's gonna be just fine. Nitrous oxide. He just needs to sleep it off." Carina shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal.

General Beckman sighed tiredly. "You have it then?" They all nodded and she nodded back. "Good job recovering the briefcase."

"What is in this thing, General? It's got an impenetrable lock on it and some other security measures on the case nothin' in Castle will work against," Casey said, having examined the case. Sarah turned to glance at it as well. The security measures he talked about were like something out of a nineteen-sixties spy movie Chuck might have a poster of hanging in his room.

"That information is above your pay grade, Agent Casey." He looked a bit glum about that, but the general ignored it if she even noticed it. "Agent Miller will return it to Langley on her way out to her next assignment. We'll have to figure out how to get the damn thing open without the key. A damned nuisance."

She figured that was clear enough apparently because she leaned back and ended the conference altogether, disappearing from the screen. Sarah turned to look at Carina as she walked up to the case and snapped it shut.

The redhead just shrugged and chirped, "They wouldn't tell me, either. I think it's because they don't know, either, and it pisses them off."

Sarah turned back and glanced over at Chuck. He was still out, having not even budged since they set him there for Carina to do some rudimentary tests.

"Hey, Walker." Sarah glanced over her shoulder back at the DEA agent. "I'm leaving tonight for Saint-Tropez. ...Did you think about my offer?" Sarah wondered if Carina might already know the answer what with the teasing look on her face.

"I'm, uh...still considering it." She grinned. She wasn't still considering it and they both knew it.

Carina walked out with a smirk and the suitcase in hand, leaving Sarah alone with...Oh. Casey had apparently also stomped off in a huff. Not knowing what was in that case seemed to be really niggling with him. His pride, most likely. Hearing "that's above your pay grade" probably put him in a mood.

Her smirk died as she glanced over at Chuck again. She wasn't going to Saint-Tropez. She wasn't going anywhere. But this wasn't working. Chuck could've easily just ruined their entire mission with his inability to focus on anything but the problems between the two of them. Worse than that, the gas Stromberg installed in that vault as a security measure could've been worse than just nitrous oxide. He could have died.

She needed to figure out how to proceed with the absolute cluster fuck of emotions hovering around them. Part of her knew that just cutting ties with this whole thing and pulling out might do it. But that wasn't an option. It wouldn't solve things for Chuck, even if it did solve things for her, and that alone was enough for her to stay and figure out how to make this arrangement functional.

Taking a deep breath, she stood up from her chair and called Beckman back. The woman popped back up on her screen, in the middle of writing something, her glasses on, apparently caught by surprise. She looked up and blinked, taking her glasses off.

"Agent Walker…?"

"General Beckman, there is a problem with Agent Carmichael." Saying agent right before Chuck's new identity was making her feel...less than great.

"I was assured he could just sleep the effects of the gas off, Agent."

Sarah shook her head. "No, he's fine. Physically." She paused as the general narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, then put her pen down and took her glasses off, folding her hands together on her desk and leaning in.

"Physically…?"

"General, my role on this team since it was established has been to keep Chuck's emotional and mental state in check so that the Intersect could be used to its fullest potential. On top of ensuring his physical safety." The general nodded. "I've determined that I'm actually...a large part of the problem, especially now that he's opted to join the NSA as an agent."

Beckman just watched her quietly for a moment. "Agent Walker, are you telling me you think you aren't the right agent to be on this team?"

She could hear in Beckman's tone of voice that she was ready to shoot Sarah down if she tried to back out now. The general had given her a way out, she'd opened that door for her, and Sarah hadn't just not walked through it, she'd resoundingly shut it. There was no way Beckman would let her go back on it, even if Sarah wanted to.

"No," Sarah said, shaking her head. "No, it's not that. Maybe there is another agent out there who would have an easier time working with him at this point. No maybe. Any agent would have an easier time…" She had the image of Chuck standing there lodged in her head, his eyelids fluttering, and the sound of his voice when he'd said those three words before losing consciousness. It made an ache go through her, the most painful kind of ache. A lingering ache. She crossed her arms at her chest, leaving them there almost like an armor, and she swallowed. "But I can't go anywhere. I won't. Nobody can do this job better than I can. But this is also…"

"A distraction," Beckman said. She sighed and nodded. "Yes, it is." Rubbing a hand down her face, she shook her head. The older woman looked annoyed and fatigued, as if she really didn't want to be dealing with this right now. Well, neither did Sarah, but here they both were. "If you don't want to be reassigned, Agent Walker...Sarah...what do you want?"

Sarah just glanced away for a moment, thoughtfully. "General, there needs to be...a solution. Because I can't keep operating in this capacity and be successful at my job. It'll only last for so long before something goes wrong. It's…"

"It's a mess. I know. That's why he's laid out unconscious right now, isn't it?"

She just nodded. "There's been a build-up and...now that the situation has changed, with Chuck training to be an agent…"

"Is he becoming a problem, Agent Walker? Do I need to talk to him?"

This was starting to sound a bit too high school for Sarah suddenly. "No." God no. "No, I can figure this out, but I just need...a path. A path that isn't...littered with...mess."

"It's Chuck. Every path he's on is littered with mess, Sarah."

Sarah widened her eyes and tilted her head a bit. General Beckman had a point with that. But her easy candidness there was surprising.

"What, this isn't what you thought you would have to do when you joined the CIA?" the general asked, raising an eyebrow. Sarah couldn't help the flat look she sent the older woman. Beckman just shrugged, a hint of amusement on her face. It was gone just as quickly. "Sarah, none of us knew what we were getting ourselves into with him. But we know now. It's why I gave him this opportunity...I wouldn't have done it if I didn't have complete faith in this team."

"You made the decision before you knew that we...that there were complications between Chuck and I." She supposed that was what she was going to call it: complications.

Beckman raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I knew, Agent Walker." There was no small amount of dryness in the general's tone. Well. Shit. Sarah ducked her head, trying to take a moment to compose herself again. "But you have a reputation of being able to get the job done no matter what adversity is put in your way. I would say this qualifies as adversity, wouldn't you?" Sarah just swallowed. "Do what you do best, Agent. Lead by example. The more you do your job, the more he'll look to emulate you. That's called leading by example."

While Sarah didn't quite appreciate being patronized by the general, she thought she really understood that this was how the other woman communicated. She supposed the other option could've been that Beckman just said "Deal with it, Agent Walker" and signed off, then blocked her from calling back. And she hadn't.

"I've never had to compartmentalize like this, General." She squirmed a bit, very uncomfortable. "What if I'm out of my depth?"

"You're Agent Sarah Walker. You're never out of your depth." General Beckman leaned in even closer to the camera. "This is just another situation you are going to have to figure out, something you've never dealt with before. You've done that countless times before this."

"Nothing like this, General," she argued. "I've never had something keeping me from being able to do my job to my fullest potential, no matter what the mission was, whether it was a task I'd never done before or not. None of the adversity I've faced has...looked like this." Nothing had felt like this.

The general pressed her hands together in front of her face and nodded, almost as if to herself. Then she looked up at Sarah. "You aren't the first, Sarah. Nor will you be the last most likely. This team has to work, especially in this new set-up with Chuck being trained as an NSA agent. The entire Intersect Project relies on this team finding a way to work. You just have to find a way, Sarah. Just…" She sighed. "...Just like I once did."

Sarah boggled at the other woman. She couldn't help it. "I'm...sorry?"

"I have a feeling this is what you need to hear, so as long as we're agreed you never let this see the light of day." Sarah blinked and nodded a little. "I was in a...situation myself. Once. A...long time ago. Obviously not the same situation." She shifted in her seat, looking uncomfortable, and she cleared her throat, sitting up a bit straighter. "If you want a way to move forward while working with someone who is...difficult to work with...for whatever reason...you have a few options." Sarah just stared, listening, the general having her full attention. "You either need to compartmentalize, something you've been doing since all of this began—Don't even try, Agent."

How she'd known Sarah was going to try to deny it, she wasn't sure, but sometimes General Diane Beckman had a knack at making the younger woman scared. Legitimately.

"Or you need to deal with it. Talk to him, set some boundaries and just...fix it." Beckman pressed her lips together pragmatically and looked through her eyelashes at Sarah. "Whatever it is you decide to do, I don't want it to negatively affect missions anymore, Agent Walker. I kept it from controlling my ability to do my job. Do I sometimes think maybe I should've handled it differently? Fixed things instead of...what I ended up doing? Yes. Sometimes. But...I'm here now." She tapped her sleeve at her shoulder where the impressive accomplishments of her career were, her bars.

Sarah nodded.

"I'm sorry, Agent Walker. But you and Bartowski have to figure this out yourselves. However that may be. You want to stay on this assignment, so figure out how to do that and not let it compromise the operation."

The entire assignment was already compromised. That was the problem. But Sarah just nodded again. "Yes, General. Understood."

"Good. I'll be in touch." The general was gone just as fast, and Sarah wondered if the other woman was running away from the continuation of this conversation after she revealed maybe too much. Was she feeling as raw from the conversation as Sarah was?

What was more, Sarah hadn't really gotten any answers. The only thing that changed was that she knew just how bad she'd been this whole time at pretending these feelings she'd developed for Chuck weren't there. Beckman had read her from the beginning. She felt like a terrible spy.

But it didn't matter, because what Beckman said was right. She needed to figure out how to make this work. How did she make this work with Chuck in particular? Because she'd been on some genuinely bad teams, teams that had crumbled, teams that hadn't worked, teams that ended up failing horribly. She'd managed to survive and move forward, she'd completed her assignments. None of those teams had anyone like Chuck on them. He was different, a lot harder to deal with. Specifically for her. It wasn't his fault. He was coming into all of this in a way that she was sure no agent ever had before him. He was who he was. And she was the way she was, with the feelings she had.

She just had to find a way to move forward with things being...what they were. At least no one else had heard what Chuck said before he'd passed out from nitrous oxide inhalation. There was a chance he wouldn't even remember.

But whether he remembered or not, she definitely would. Could she compartmentalize enough to be on this team, protect him, and keep them from letting this tension between them ruin a mission or get one of them killed?

Could he? No. He couldn't. She already knew the answer to that. She wasn't angry with him for that. It wasn't who he was.

Yet.

And that was the thing that scared her the most. The longer they kept at this, the more Chuck went into the field and saw the things she'd seen, had to do the things she'd had to do, the easier it would get for him to compartmentalize and "deal with it" the way Beckman apparently had in her own situation that Sarah couldn't help being incredibly curious about.

Sarah wouldn't have to worry about dealing with all of the most frustrating things about Chuck Bartowski—his inability to stay in the car, his knack for caring more about everyone else's safety more than his own, the way he'd had a full-on panic attack on the ride home the first time people had shot guns around him, and the way he lost focus on missions trying to get her to talk to him, trying to explain himself. Those were all things that would get him killed out in the field as an agent, but they were all things that made him...who he was.

The thought of that being beaten out of him by this job made her feel sick.

She turned to glance over at him again and saw he was staring at her, fully awake. He turned his head away in a flash, pretending to still be sleeping. And she wondered just how long he'd been awake.

She went over to the mini fridge on the other side of the room and opened it, grabbing an icy cold bottle of water, before walking it over to where he still rested...as if she hadn't seen him fully awake for that split second. "Here," she said, thrusting the bottle out over him. The condensation dripped off of the bottle onto his face, which wasn't really her intention, but she guessed she'd take it.

He blinked his eyes open and looked like he might try to play off that he hadn't been awake before, but then he sighed and nodded, slowly pushing himself to sit up. The way he swayed a bit definitely wasn't a ruse, however, and she put a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

"Uh. Thanks." He looked embarrassed as she nodded, and then he reached up to take the water, unscrewing the cap and guzzling about half of it down. He just sat there, staring at his lap. "The...briefcase?"

"We got it."

"Everybody's okay? Casey? Carina?"

Her throat was dry. Before he even addressed what happened in the vault, the three words he said to her when she finally got the door opened, he asked about the wellfare of the rest of his team. He had the makings of a good spy. And it hurt her thinking about what that could mean, what he could potentially become:

Casey.

Her.

She nodded. "Everyone's fine. Carina will be taking the briefcase to Langley on her way to her next assignment. And Casey...stomped out of here because Beckman told him knowing more about what's in the briefcase is above his pay grade."

Chuck snorted quietly and it made her feel a bit of warmth in her chest. It was almost like one of their moments back before this mess, before he'd made this decision to throw everything that made him great in a God damn dumpster.

"You're okay?" she asked.

He gave her a long, searching look. And for a moment, she thought he would say it again. Reiterate those words. I love you

But then he nodded, a weak but kind smile on his face. "Yeah. Little woozy but I'm—I've got this. So thanks." He lifted the water in a cheers motion.

"Good."

"I'm not-I'm not there yet, am I?" She froze, her eyes slowly lifting to his. But he was looking down at the floor, having shifted his legs to the side so he could sit up straight and put his feet down. "As a spy, I mean. I'm not gonna be good at this until I can figure out how to...suppress my emotions and feelings. I couldn't just focus on the mission, and it could've ruined the whole thing. For all of us."

"You got the briefcase, Chuck." She didn't know what else to really say. "It was your brain, your skills that got that door open."

"And my idiocy and lack of focus that got it shut again, getting me trapped in there, nearly gassed to death." He finally looked up at her. "I've made a big mess of things, haven't I? There's no turning back. I can't clean this up..."

"I don't know what to say, Chuck. You made a choice. And I'm here to walk you through it...but I don't know that I can give you anything else. I don't like this. I don't want it for you. Not because I don't think you can, but…" Her voice cut out and she let out a huff. Those three words he'd said were stuck between her ribs and she couldn't shake them loose.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"I know." Me too. She was much sorrier than he could even begin to understand. This had all been her doing.

Nibbling on her bottom lip, she turned on her heel and left him there, not seeing the way he furrowed his brow at her, not knowing just how long he'd been listening to her conversation with Beckman, a seed of steady determination having been planted in his heart.

}o{

Sarah spent a ridiculous amount of time the next morning combing through the footage of Morgan's party in Chuck and Ellie's courtyard from the night before, wondering how in the hell Jeff and Lester had stayed alive this long. If she had a dollar for every bottle of beer Jeff finished, she'd be a millionaire, and Lester had gotten slapped at least six times, by women, and by one man, which...she didn't even want to hear the audio on that one.

And then there was Chuck. He'd eventually ambled in, patting his friends on the back, still not looking like his full self as he sipped his beer, usually ending up sitting on the fountain and just staring off in the distance, or sometimes standing in a group and smiling but not saying anything, until eventually, he'd disappeared, showing up in his bedroom again and playing video games for a while before going to sleep again.

She probably should've made an appearance at the party for the cover, but she hadn't felt like she was fit to go through the motions of a real relationship in front of Chuck's friends last night. He'd probably figured out some excuse to tell them for why she couldn't make it.

Sarah was in this for the long haul, and maybe part of her strategy for moving forward in this assignment, keeping her head in the game, was taking a step back and away here and there to regroup like she'd done last night after she left Chuck alone sitting on that cot in Castle. Maybe a bit of space every once in a while would help her prioritize, see the assignment and the mission clearly, focus. And, like Beckman said, she could lead by example. Chuck might...fall into place.

Shit, she didn't want him to. She wanted him to stay like this. She wanted to protect the guy who let his brain overthink things to the point that he spiraled, saying a whole lot of things that he probably shouldn't say, only stopping when she put a hand on his arm or shoulder. She wanted to protect the guy who'd woken up from being knocked unconscious by nitrous oxide in Castle hours later asking if everyone else was okay. And she wanted to protect the guy who'd had an opportunity to reiterate the words he'd said to her when she opened the door and he fell into her arms...but didn't take it, instead putting her comfort before his own needs. She knew he remembered. She could feel it in him, see it in his face. And he didn't bring it up.

She was still staring at the screen when she heard heels clicking against the floor behind her. Nobody else could get down here who wore heels except for her...and Carina.

Smirking, she turned to see the DEA agent walking down the Castle hallway and slowing once she walked through the door into the room.

"I'm guessing it's a no on Saint-Tropez then, huh? Not gonna miss those beaches?"

She let out a quiet chuckle. "Oh, I'll miss 'em. Incredibly. But I, um, I need to be here. I need to see this through."

"Sometimes I wonder if you're capable of giving yourself a break, Blondie. Or if you thrive off of suffering, you masochist…"

Sarah gave her pseudo-friend a look, trying to figure her out. "Don't we all thrive off of suffering? Or we wouldn't be in the business of spying."

"Speak for yourself. I'm good where I am." Carina closed the distance a bit and leaned her hip against the desk. "Not sure I can say the same for you."

The CIA agent could see that the redhead wasn't trying to be mean, she wasn't trying to piss her off. She really meant what she'd just said, and that helped her from getting miffed about it. Instead she just shrugged, looking down at her keyboard. "I'm fine here. I have my work."

"And a guy who's driving you crazy." Sarah blanched but tried not to let Carina see it. But then Carina set a USB down on the desk in front of her. She blinked and looked up at the DEA agent. "It's a little gift from me to you. Take a look at it when you've got some time, huh?"

Then she leaned in and gave Sarah a side hug, kissing the top of her head. "Take care of yourself, Sarah. Seriously."

"You too, Carina." Sarah hugged back, holding on for maybe a little longer than was necessary. And as Carina walked away, that usual swagger in the sway of her hips, Sarah felt an ache in her chest. There went the only normalcy she really knew at this point—a chaotic DEA agent she could always count on to make things dicey. But that was Carina through and through. She'd always be that way. She always was that way. It hadn't been Sarah's doing.

Shaking her head, she turned to look down at the USB. She didn't know what might be on a USB Carina gave her as a gift, but she prepared herself just in case it was something really weird and raunchy she didn't want on one of her Castle computers. Carina would pull that shit.

Sarah popped it in and played the video file.

Oh.

She almost hit stop, but her fingers were frozen. Every part of her was frozen. It was the footage from inside of the vault. She knew immediately she was about to hear everything Chuck had been saying, his muffled voice drifting up into her vent. She hadn't been able to make out the words then, she'd been too busy trying to save his life to care… She could hear them now.

And damn her for not just turning it off.

"Sarah! Sarah, I don't want to die in here without having told you everything I need to tell you!" he said, panicked. And then he leaned into the door, his face almost right up against it. "I'm not-I'm not a good spy. I'm a terrible spy. At best, I'm not a normal spy. I'm not a by-the-book kinda guy and I don't know...I don't know if I'm even capable of that. I'm—I'm a regular guy who works at a Buy More. And the decision I made to join the NSA, the fact that I kept it from you for so long—for too long—I know what it must look like to you. That I did a complete one-eighty on everything I'd said before about wanting my life back, that I didn't trust you enough to share my decision with you when I was...still trying to make it. But that isn't it. That isn't it, Sarah. I trust you more than I trust anyone, more than I trust myself even. That was why I kept it a secret, that was why I decided without talking to you about it. I trust you to tell me the way things are, the truth. You're always real with me when it matters the most, and with the way I feel about you, I was just so scared that you'd tell me not to because...because you thought I couldn't. Telling the person you admire more than anybody else in the whole world and then-then hearing them confirm you're not good enough to do the thing you wanna do. I know I'm not like Bryce, or Casey, or you. And I'm afraid that no matter how hard I try, I'm never gonna add up, and that's why I just kept putting off...telling you. But I have to try."

He took a deep breath, the look on his face made her wonder if he was already getting lightheaded, the way he braced his hand on the door. His words sped up then, as though he was in a race against time. "Look, Sarah, I know...I know that you think I should've taken the path that will maybe give me back that regular life I seemed to want so badly. And you're probably hurt that I did exactly the opposite of that, telling everyone but you. I did that, and I'm... I'm sorry. I don't know what could've been possible if I had made that choice. I don't know if I would've been able to see you again. But I-I knew how I could do two things at once, you know? I could-I could help people with what I have in my head. And you-you have to know that you were everything that I ever wanted, and then some. This is it. My chance to be better than just a Nerd Herd supervisor. My chance to prove myself...to you." She took a deep breath, swiping at her eyes, trying to focus on the screen through her tears. "And you're the one that taught me that... that being a spy is about choosing something bigger. It's... it's about putting aside your own safety for the greater good, and that's what I choose. I choose the greater good, Sarah, and I choose you. I-I chose to be a spy for my friends and my family...and you. I chose to be a spy because…" The door finally slid open and he swayed. "Sarah, I love you."

The feed cut, leaving the screen blank, and she just stared at the spot where he'd been. She didn't bother trying to hold back the tears that flooded her eyes and finally spilled down her cheeks. She'd been right wondering if she was the reason for him making the decision. She was the cause of all of this. And she was heartbroken.

}o{

The light knock on his window startled him. He was at that point of exhaustion where he was so tired he couldn't sleep. Instead, he was stuck in that drowsy, mind going a mile a minute state where your eyes just hurt a lot but your body and brain refused to relent.

Pushing himself up to his elbows, he rolled off of his bed to his feet and shuffled over to the window, rubbing his aching eyes, rolling his head back and forth on his shoulders, and groaning. If it was Casey with a mission, he'd put his head through a wall. He couldn't stand another mission right now.

And a voice in his head reminded him that he'd been the one to agree to all of this. He'd made the choice to become a full-blown NSA agent. Nobody else. And this was the job, wasn't it? Pushing past aches, pain, exhaustion. Casey and Sarah did it all the time.

But when he pulled the edge of the curtain aside to peer into the courtyard, he saw that it wasn't Casey after all. Sarah stood there, nibbling on her lower lip, her face in profile as she stared at the entrance to the courtyard.

Chuck tucked the curtains back away from the window and she spun back to face him, a mask immediately slipping over her features, as it typically did. He furrowed his brow in curiosity and she pointed at the window, mouthing "Can I come in?"

Nodding, he quickly pulled the window open and stretched out a hand for her as she knelt down and swung one of her long legs over the windowsill and inside of his room. She folded her cold hand into his warm one and let him help her inside. She straightened to her full height again once she got in, and turned to shut the window quietly.

Chuck just waited for a few moments, figuring she'd tell him why she was here eventually. But she didn't, just standing there with her back to him and her arms folded instead.

"Do...we have a mission?" he finally asked.

She shook her head and finally turned to face him, pushing some of her hair back from her face. Something was different. The usual steadiness of Agent Sarah Walker was absent from the woman standing before him. She looked uncomfortable, fidgety almost. Almost as if she felt like a foreigner in her own skin. He knew the feeling. It just seemed a little out of character for her. He supposed that was the point, though.

"No. No mission," she said, shrugging. "I—" She huffed. "That gas in the vault… You were exposed to so much of it, and with the way you were out for such a long time, the after-effects and everything, I just wanted to make sure you were...okay still."

"Oh." He swallowed thickly. "Yeah, I'm...I think I'm good. Feeling a bit like a zombie. Undead. Specifically. Not dead, but...undead. I feel like if I was dead, I'd actually be able to get some sleep." He let out a weak, "Heh", and shrugged tiredly. "Mostly from, you know, all of it. Not just the gas I don't think."

Sarah nodded quickly. "Okay. Good."

But she was looking at him in a way that was different from anything he'd ever seen in her face before. He wasn't sure what it was but her mask was slipping. She probably didn't even know it was slipping. Something had spooked her. Something had really spooked her, but he had a feeling if he asked her, he'd never get a straight answer out of her.

And because he couldn't help it, his concern for her taking precedence over everything else, he asked her anyway. "Sarah, are you okay?"

She just gave him a long look. And she didn't answer. But the fact that she didn't immediately deny anything was wrong made him reach out and curl his hand around hers.

"C'mere. Sit."

Sarah did, sitting on the end of his bed. And then she glanced over her shoulder at the mess of sheets and shook her head. "You were sleeping. I shouldn't have come this late."

"No, I wasn't sleeping. I was doin' my best to give it a go, though." He gave her a crooked smile and plopped down at the end of his bed next to her. "No cigar."

She pulled her shoulders up to her ears in something of a shrug and stared at his television across from her. She fell into silence again and it was an uncomfortable one that he ached to fill. But with what?

And then she turned and just stared at him again. This time he saw regret, guilt. And he couldn't for the life of him understand why.

"Chuck, I'm going to say something and I'm not sure I want a response. I just need to say this, okay?" Her eyes fell to his chest for a moment, she swallowed, and then she looked back up at him, questioning in her face. He nodded, trying to give her a reassuring look, but he wasn't sure how it came off. He was unsettled by how unsteady she seemed, almost as if she was a little off. "Being a spy isn't easy. And I know I don't need to tell you that. After all these months of having to work for the government, with the Intersect lodged in your head, you know this job is difficult. But it means putting your needs on a back-burner, so to speak, setting them aside. Because other people's lives are on the line." She took a deep breath and looked away. "But—and I need you to really hear this and take it to heart, Chuck—sometimes it's okay not to be so altruistic. Sometimes it's okay to put your own well-being first. Okay?"

He met her gaze and smiled a little. "That's not what you do."

She looked away from him, seemingly annoyed by his response. "That's not accurate, Chuck. If I was more altruistic, like you, I would've pulled myself off of this assignment a long time ago and let myself be replaced by someone who could protect you without…" She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and then shut them, sighing. "...all of the extra stuff."

"Are you saying you've stayed for selfish reasons?" He couldn't believe his ears. She was wrong. Flat-out wrong.

"Maybe."

"And that's why you didn't leave, even when you so obviously wanted to after you found out that I agreed to join the NSA?"

She rolled her eyes and he thought she understood the point he was making. He dropped his gaze to where she was squeezing her knees in both hands, so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. "You know I can't answer that."

"Can't or won't?"

"I can't. I don't...have the words. I'm not as good at that as you are, okay?" She was getting frustrated, and he could see she was regretting coming here in the first place. That was the last thing he wanted.

"Okay," he breathed. "It's okay—"

"No, Chuck. It isn't. But as always, you're being sweet and kind." She pushed a hand through her hair and turned her face away from him. He didn't know what was going on. He was incredibly confused. But he did know that she hadn't just shown up at his window to make sure he was all right after the gas knocked him out. That was an excuse. A flimsy one.

"Look, I can see you're okay. I should let you get some sleep," she said then. There was a desperate feel to her, like she had to get out of here, even though she'd been the one to show up at his window like this.

As she stood up, he was hit with a desperation of his own, and he reached out and took her hand again, not quite as gently as he had before. He loosened his grip immediately, but still held on, when she turned back to flash wide eyes at him.

"Sarah, I know—I know things aren't like they were before. You're my partner now. Not my handler. I'm—I'm an agent. Or at least...learning. But if you could just… Would you mind just staying here for a few minutes? I mean, until I can...fall asleep?" He winced even as he asked, knowing how wrong it was of him to ask that of her. She'd made it clear as day that wasn't what things were anymore.

She turned to face him. He watched as she pressed her lips together, emotion sweeping through her face, before she shook her head and let out a rough breath. "Chuck. I'm going to do everything within my power to make sure I'm the partner you deserve. I will protect you as long as they let me. Maybe longer even." He heard her swallow hard. "You think I'm somebody that I'm not. I don't know what else I can say or do to convince you that I'm not worth…" She huffed and glanced over at the window longingly. "You need to open your eyes a little wider, look a little harder, Chuck. I'm a good spy. That's all there is to me."

He frowned deeply as she slipped her hand out of his. "That's not even slightly true."

She leaned in just a bit, a serious but sad look on her face. "Yes. It is. Get some rest, Chuck. I'll see you tomorrow, huh? Beckman will for sure have a mission for us by then. We're the best team she's got."

Chuck wanted to stand up and follow her to the window, grab her by her shoulders, shake her, yell at her until she understood just how wrong she was. He didn't know what happened to make her say those things. And he just sat there, staring at her back as she opened the window and crawled out into the courtyard.

As she shut the window again, she spared one last look at him. He couldn't read it. But then she was gone.

Sarah Walker was everything he thought she was and more. Nothing she could say would dissuade him from knowing that was true. And he was afraid that nothing he could say would dissuade her from not believing it was true. She left the safety of her place, came out of the shadows she apparently thought she belonged in, and showed up at his window. Even her excuse to see him was selfless and kind. Her actual reason, he still didn't know what it was, but he had to think it was kindness as well. And as much as it wasn't like it was before he decided to join the NSA, she would still come to his door in fifteen minutes flat if he needed her to. For any reason. He knew she would.

She didn't see any of what he saw. And he didn't understand why or how. He didn't know how to save her from it. But he knew he would keep opening the window for her to come in. And he would keep trying to make her see. Whether it meant he could be with her or not. She said she would be the partner he deserved. He had no doubt about that. But he would also strive to be the voice she deserved to hear, the voice that told her just how worthy she really was. Whether she wanted to listen to him or not. He would keep trying.

He fell back onto his bed and sighed, staring determinedly at the ceiling. If anything, she'd just solidified his resolve. He wasn't going to quit. It wasn't as much about them as it was about her, now. He would fix things. Fuck if he knew how. But he'd do it.

He'd do it.