Valentine's Day.

Sarah had never been a big fan of it. First of all, she thought it was an over-commercialized excuse for greeting card companies to make a lot of money and to make single people feel crappy.

That, and she didn't have a really great history with Valentine's Day.

Once upon a time, Sarah had been known as Beth Reynolds. Beth Reynolds, the Boston Latin student who all the guys thought was God's gift to men. Beth Reynolds, the all-state softball pitcher and cheerleader. Beth Reynolds, the National Merit Scholar.

Beth Reynolds, who lost her virginity on Valentine's Day at the age of fifteen.

In 1998, her first boyfriend had somehow convinced her that it would be romantic to "make love" for the first time on Valentine's Day. Trouble was, there was nothing loving about it. It was just him humping away for less than two minutes, and her feeling shitty afterwards – especially when she heard what he'd written about her on the boys' locker room wall.

Not too long after that, her home life had gone in the toilet as her parents had seemingly turned into the real-life equivalent of Itchy and Scratchy. As a result, Beth had turned to sex to escape.

By the time the next Valentine's Day rolled around, she had developed a bit of a slutty reputation. By the Valentine's Day after THAT, she was firmly entrenched as a full-on slut. She realized it, too. She didn't like it, and she tried not to admit it, but deep down, she knew that that's what everybody around her thought of her.

After she went to college, she sought counseling for what a therapist had told her was a sexual addiction. By Valentine's Day 2001, she was practically celibate.

And then 9/11 happened, and her father snapped. Three months later, her mother committed suicide. Valentine's Day 2002 found Beth drowning her sorrows and falling asleep in an alcoholic stupor.

Not long after that, she had joined the CIA. She had been personally recruited by the director two years before, and decided it was her way out. When she joined, Beth Reynolds faded into the past, to be replaced by Sarah Walker.

Valentine's Day 2003, Sarah spent by herself, on the shooting range at the CIA's Langley Headquarters. She didn't even notice it had passed.

Valentine's Day 2004 was an entirely different matter. The fall before, she had met a young man who worked for South Africa's National Intelligence Agency. His name was Piers de Klerk, and she had fallen for him. Hard.

He made her feel like she had never felt before – basically, like a giddy schoolgirl in love. On Feburary 14th, 2004, she had been in Prague, hunting down a former KGB network, but she still got a silly e-mail from him, complete with a video clip of him wishing her a Happy Valentine's Day that had made a totally goofy smile break out on her face.

A month later, she had attended his funeral. Piers de Klerk had fallen victim to the Madrid commuter train bombings on March 11th, 2004.

The following Valentine's Day, she had been completely successful in ignoring its approach until her trainee, Bryce Larkin, had mentioned it to her. They had been returning from a training session in Arizona, and he had asked if she would be willing to go out with him on Valentine's Day – just as friends.

She couldn't deny that Bryce was attractive, and she did enjoy spending time around him. However, her emotions were still very raw – even though it had been eleven months since Piers' death. So she had told him sorry, but no.

Things had changed – significantly – by Valentine's Day 2006. She had just finished a disastrous mission in Brazil and been put on reduced duty, but she had also found herself falling for Bryce Larkin. That Valentine's Day was fun, if a little odd.

Valentine's Day 2007 was a little different. Things had started to get strained between her and Bryce, and they were only a little ways from a major blowup that would spell the beginning of the end for their relationship.

Seven months later, Bryce was killed – or so she thought. And then she had a circumstance of fate which never would have expected to occur.

A mission had taken her to Los Angeles, where she had encountered an extraordinary man. Not ordinarily the type she'd go for, he had nonetheless somehow so affected her that she reached the point where a gaze, a spoken word, a brush of his hand could set butterflies to flying in her stomach.

Chuck Bartowski was, unfortunately, an asset that she was supposed to be protecting. However, when he started dating another woman a month and a half after Sarah met him, and she had to fight off the irrational urge to maim that other woman, she knew she had a problem.

This problem was confirmed when she passionately kissed Chuck just before she thought a bomb was going to go off and kill them both. It turned out that the "bomb" was actually a stasis chamber for Bryce Larkin, who was actually not dead.

Bryce's return threw a monkey wrench into Sarah's life, but in the end, she decided she was better off not returning to him. That left her in Los Angeles, confused and rather lonely.

Shortly before Valentine's Day 2008, Chuck had asked Sarah if she wanted to go out, just as friends, and she had said yes, jokingly insisting that he bring her roses and Godiva chocolates.

When he did exactly that, she was surprised – but very pleasantly so. She actually ended up enjoying Valentine's Day for the first time in four years.

One Valentine's Day later, she was engaged, and less than a month from getting married. That Valentine's Day wasn't quite as enjoyable, mostly because her wedding planner – and soon-to-be sister-in-law – had her running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

And now, it was Valentine's Day 2010. Her first as a married woman. Married to Mr. Charles Bartowski.

Chuck had recently started up a little video game development company on the side. The first game he wrote – interestingly enough, about an individual who gets a government database stuck in his head – he sold to Electronic Arts for just shy of 600,000. The next day, he had walked into the Buy More, and announced very loudly that they could "Take this job and shove it!"

And with the disposable income he now had, he had gone all out for Valentine's Day. A suite at the Beverly Hills Hotel, dinner at the Belvedere, chocolate covered strawberries and champagne in the room, rose petals all over the place. Sarah couldn't believe it when she stepped into the room.

As she drifted off to sleep that night, very, VERY content, it occurred to Sarah that Chuck had not used a condom that night. Not that she particularly cared. She WAS married to him, after all.

Two weeks later, Sarah stood on the scale in her bathroom. She looked down at it and frowned. She'd gained three pounds in the last two weeks? Really? How had she managed to do that?

Sighing, she stepped back off the scale. Maybe she'd cut back a little on certain things. Wine would probably be the first to go – all those empty calories.

Four days after that, she got a phone call. "I had a flash, Sarah!" Chuck shouted. "There's a Colombian drug lord in Venice Beach, and he's going to start some trouble. I can't get in touch with Casey or Father O'Halloran!"

"Alright, Chuck, stay calm," she advised her husband. "I'm going to call Director Graham and find out what he wants me to do."

And so she did. She got on the phone with Director Graham, and informed him of the situation. She could hear him sigh on the other end, and then say, "Well, you are still certified for field operations. Get out there!'

Sarah couldn't believe it. Her first real field mission in almost a year. She dashed down to the locker room, ripped open her locker, and pulled out her custom-made Kevlar vest. It had to be custom-made for a reason – as her mother had once told her, she was "blessed" in certain areas.

Well, right now, her well-endowed chest was being more of a curse than a blessing. Her Kevlar vest seemed abnormally tight as she pulled it on, and when she tightened the straps, it really HURT!

Gritting her teeth, she just tried to ignore the pain. But for the rest of the afternoon – the drive to Venice, the capture of the Colombian drug lord, and even after she had the vest off, she was really, very sore.

The next morning, she was trying to put her bra on – one of her expensive Victoria's Secret bras – and she couldn't get it to fasten in the back. She was about to give it a good hard yank when she remembered how much pain she had been in the remainder of the day before.

She dropped the bra to the floor. Narrowing her eyes, she just stared at her reflection in the mirror. Was she getting bigger?

Sarah decided to consult with somebody she considered to be an expert. Topless, she walked out of the bathroom into the kitchenette area of her hotel suite, where Chuck was sitting, reading the newspaper.

"Chuck," she said, distracting him from the sports section, "are my boobs getting bigger?"

The question caused his head to snap up and swivel toward her, just as he took a drink of coffee. He couldn't help it. He ended up spitting his mouthful of coffee across the table.

After coughing for a couple of minutes, he finally recovered. Sarah still stood in front of him, half-naked.

"Jesus, I don't know," he sputtered, still coughing. "They look fine to me!"

Then he smiled. "I'd be happy to do a thorough check, though, if you'd like."

Sarah sighed and rolled her eyes. "Men."