"I'm going to be a father."

She was surprised half of LA hadn't yet found out the news by the way Chuck kept on saying that very sentence. He'd say it while he brushed his teeth, while he tied his chucks, while he drove his car, and while he laid in bed doing nothing at all.

Which was what he was doing at that very moment. Sarah tried not to pay too much attention to the way Chuck was scrutinizing her stomach, his eyes roving over it as if it were some distant, never-before-seen land.

"You," Chuck said, "are carrying my child. Our child. Do you think it'll like me? Do you think it'll like TV? Hey wouldn't it be funny if he or she loves olives but hates pizza? Cuz, you know, I love pizza and you hate olives."

She rolled her eyes, but not without smiling. "Chuck, quit it," she said, pulling her shirt back down.

"I can't quit it. I'm going to be a father."

He'd been aware of that fact for officially four days but the resonance of it still didn't seem to fade, and didn't look like it was ever going to.

All it took was one more look from Sarah, though. "Ok, I'll stop now," he said.

Sarah resumed her reading but only 2 minutes passed before she felt her shirt slowly being pulled back again. She put her book down and glared.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Chuck said. "But this is... this is.... I don't know how you could just lay there when there is a baby growing inside of you! A baby! Our baby!"

Chuck looked at her as he tentatively planted a kiss on her stomach. "Sorry," he whispered to it. "Didn't mean to shout." He looked back at Sarah. "I should probably keep my voice down around your belly. Wouldn't want to damage our little baby's tiny ears."

"Chuck, please don't refer to my stomach as a belly."

"Belly not your thing? How 'bout tummy? No? Is that a no on tummy? Baby bump?" Then, off her look, "Ok, we'll just stick with stomach. Whatever you want, Sweetie."

"Have you told anyone?"

"You mean besides Awesome and Ellie? No."

"Good," Sarah said. "I don't think we should tell anyone until I quit. Officially."

"Really?" Chuck asked, scooting up to sit beside her against the headboard. "So you're actually going through with it?"

"Well don't look so surprised," she said. "My job is too dangerous. I can't jeopardize myself or the...."

"Baby," Chuck said in a tone that said, go on, say it.

"The baby," she finally conceded.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"Well you're about to quit a job you love– a job you've had since you were 18, I might add– for something you never even asked for. I mean... the CIA's the only thing you've ever really known and this is totally uprooting your life."

"Don't worry about it."

"Don't worr– that's all? That's all I'm getting out of you?"

She looked at him like, what more do you want?

"My insides are jumping for joy right now, as gross as that metaphor may sound, and I can't sit still for a minute without thinking about how amazing all of this is. Having kids– being a dad– it's always been part of the plan for me. This is everything I ever wanted." He took a breath. "You've never even discussed kids before."

"I never talked about kids because I never planned on having any."

He didn't say anything but he didn't have to; she could see in the way the light left his eyes, the way his shoulders dropped ever so slightly, that he assumed that this– having a child– was something she never wanted.

"I never thought I would have kids. But I always wanted them." She looked at his eyes to make sure he understood. "I always wanted them and when I met you I knew that if I were ever going to have kids I'd want to have them with you."

A smile sneaked back onto his face. "Really?" he asked, "when you met me?"

"Well, it took about four days."

"Four days!"

"Give or take."

She was glad to have told him that, not only so that he could rest assured but because he needed to know that's how she felt. "This is everything I ever wanted," she said, borrowing his words but making them sound like they were no one but hers. "More than you can even imagine."

Chuck smiled and kissed her.

////////////////////////////

Head down, staring at his knees, Chuck realizes this is just like the last time. Sarnov still looks the same; same scraggly beard, same greasy smile, and Chuck's strapped to a chair again. And to cap the whole thing off his fucking head's even bleeding.

This is exactly the same position he was in the last time he saw Sarnov. The only difference is that Sarah isn't in the same room this time. So, at least there's that.

"I know you," Sarnov says. "You CIA."

Chuck pulls at his wrists tied behind him. He was out when Sarnov tied him up, which Chuck is starting to realize is Sarnov's preferred way of doing things. He pulls at his wrists more angry than desperate, trying to get a feel of how hard it's going to be to get out of the knots. If it's even possible. More than being scared, more than anything, he's furious with himself. Furious that he didn't just squeeze the trigger when he had the chance.

"You CIA!"

Chuck gets the feeling it's more of a question than a statement. Is he CIA? He mulls it over, begins to understand it has something to do with why he isn't dead yet.

"Yeah, I'm CIA."

Sarnov looks worried, which makes Chuck feel less so.

"How many of you there is?" Sarnov goes on. "Is anybody more in this hotel?! What do you know!?"

Sarnov's raising his voice and starting to pace, and looking all together freaked out. Chuck's never pictured him like this. In his mind he's always been the heartless villain who took his life away. Right now he's just a paranoid guy with a gun. And even tied to a chair Chuck realizes that he's got the upper hand in the cool-head department.

Sarnov's not going to kill him yet and Chuck understands why. "Yes, there's more of us," Chuck says. "We're everywhere. And we're watching you."

Sarnov goes to the balcony slowly, pulls back the curtain with the tip of his gun. He looks outside tentatively, the walks back into the room.

"No, no, I no believe you," Sarnov says. "There is no one outside. Or they would be here already, to save you."

He has a point, and given the current circumstances, Chuck isn't quick enough on his feet to come up with a plausible reason for that.

"If you....," he swallows and tries again. "Someone is watching. And if you point that gun at me you'll see."

"I will see?" Sarnov laughs. "No, no, I think you are lying to me. So you will see."

A second after he lifts his gun the only bullet that flies is the one that comes through the balcony to blow the gun out of Sarnov's hand.

Casey steps into the room, picking up the gun that flew out of Sarnov's hand, his own gun still pointed at the man on the floor. As Casey snips the binds Chuck is, for once, grateful that the NSA agent is always tracking him.

Casey gives Chuck his gun. "Finish it," he says.

Sarnov is on his back and holding his hand to chest, half of it a bloody stump where three of his fingers used to be. He is, almost literally, unarmed, and can do nothing but try not to cry out as he looks up at the man pointing a gun at him. "Who are you?" he asks, utterly lost.

"Don't you remember me?"

Chuck kicks him in the stomach, and finding it to be very therapeutic he does it again. "Don't you remember me!" he asks once more. Casey stands back, holding his wrist and watching the scene like it was as interesting as a cooking show. Chuck stands still again and points the gun at Sarnov's head. "A year ago you stabbed my girlfriend." Leaning down he continues to point the gun until the barrel touches the spot between Sarnov's eyes. "You killed our baby."

Chuck looks at him, trying to see if any of this registers, but it doesn't really matter if it does. "This is for Sarah," he says. His hand feels clammy around the gun, and he feels himself starting to shake. Every inch of him is vibrating with the desire to pull the trigger. But still, he only looks at him. There is no sign of remorse in Sarnov's eyes. If anything, the more minutes that pass the less Sarnov seems bothered by any of this at all. He smiles, finally, as something seems to dawn on him. "You are not a killer."

Chuck lets out a breath and slowly takes the gun off of Sarnov's forehead. "No," he says, standing. "I'm not."

Casey walks up to Sarnov like he was just waiting for this very moment to arise.

"But I'm not the only want who wants you dead," Chuck says.

And just like that Sarnov isn't smiling anymore.

"This is for what you did to Agent Sarah Walker," Casey says. And then he shoots him.

.......................

As Sarah types she is distracted by a very familiar tune. A tune she has heard nearly everyday for the last 7 months. She turns away from the computer screen to watch her coworker Larry, his head bobbing up and down, humming. She's trying to shoot daggers at him with her eyes, telling him to please, for the love of god, answer the phone. Larry begins to sing (low enough so that the rest of his coworkers can't hear but loud enough that Sarah, who is just a few feet away, can). If he lets it go to the chorus she swears that she's going to get up, walk over, and jam a pencil right into his--

"I'm bringing sexy back," he croons in a high falsetto. "Those other brothers don't know how to-"

"Larry?" She says, a strained smile on her face. "Aren't you going to get that?"

"I will....in just a minute."

Sarah slowly but firmly wraps her fingers around a pencil.

"Yeah?" Larry said, finally answering his phone. Sarah loosens her grip on the pencil. "Ok, let me write this down. Benny's Pizzeria, yeah I know the place. In half an hour? Who did you say you were again? You want me to repeat it? Ok. Agent Carmichael. Charles Carmichael."

Sarah's ears perked up. Could it be?

"I never heard of any Agent Carmichael," Larry says. "What? No this isn't Sarah Walker!" he barks, turning to Sarah, who can't help but snigger. "And no, I won't give her the message! Why don't you just call her yourself!"

Larry snaps his phone shut. "Who the hell is Agent Carmichael?" he asks her.

Sarah shrugs. "Never heard of him."

.

.

Benny's Pizzeria is the only place in all of Virginia that Chuck knows about. He's never actually been there but he's seen their takeout menu on Sarah's refrigerator. It's a small place and right now there's about a dozen kids inside in soccer uniforms celebrating a big win. It may not be the perfect place to reunite with Sarah but he doesn't want to have to wait hours until she gets home from work so it'll have to do.

He sees her walk through the door before she can spot him out and he's amazed that she can still take his breath away whenever she walks into a room.

He stands from his booth seat as she comes to meet him and for a moment they just stand before each other. He would've liked to kiss her, hug her-- anything– but she's looking at him funny, like she's examining him. "You didn't kill him, did you?" she asks.

"How did you know?"

"I can tell."

It's a weird conversation to be having in the family friendly setting but, alas, there it is.

"But he's dead," Chuck says. "And I'm staying."

She still doesn't look like she believes him, about any of it, but her eyes are already glasses. "I'm not going anywhere this time," he goes on.

And finally he can kiss her; hug her; anything.

/////////////

Just a little message here to say this isn't the final chapter. There's still one more coming up. And also, just wanted to thank everyone for reading. Those who stuck by the story even though it was too dark/confusing at times. Those who favorited, and especially those who reviewed. Reviews fuel every writer- so thank you! All your names are burned in my brain now ;).