A/N: I decided to post a day early because chuck is BACK tomorrow!!! and i won't be writing. This is, alas, not THE chapter you're looking for but i hope it'll tide you over until then. Thanks for all the encouragement on the last chapter, i was really afraid i'd get burned for allowing chuck to kiss jill.

Chapter 19:

Sarah put all her strength into the kitchen tiles, scrubbing five times across, five more vertically, and repeating the motion twice more for good measure. The tempo of coarse bristles against polished stones lulled her into a false sense of calm.

She wouldn't be satisfied until the floor was clean enough to eat off of, and even then, she wondered if she should go over them just to be sure.

In the back of her mind she knew what she was doing was insane. The house was immaculate and this was the fifth time she'd cleaned the floors in the last two days, but like the way some women turned to cartons of ice-cream, she found the scent of bleach therapeutic. If she couldn't wipe away her troubles, she could at least try to wipe away the stains of her physical surroundings.

It all started last Friday when she made the mistake of visiting Ellie. Since then her sister-in-law had called numerous times, her voice always rife with concern. No matter what Sarah said, nothing could convince the woman that everything was okay.

Then after a surprise visit one night, Sarah realized she had to pull herself together, for Ellie's sake at least. She was beginning to frighten the woman and she couldn't bear to shut her away. She was all Sarah had now, her last connection to Chuck.

And so began the impulsive cleaning that spread from clearing a few bills off the kitchen counter to scrubbing down every inch of the house. She took a leave of absence at work, knowing she was frightening her coworkers with her indifference and short temper, but it only left her with even more idle time.

Never had a concept been so relative. Two years could pass without her notice while two weeks dragged by the milliseconds, arduously marking its passage through Sarah's mind.

Exhausted, she threw down the brush and removed her gloves. Ellie wanted her over for dinner tonight, but she couldn't—wouldn't, not while there was still the slim chance Chuck might come back. What would he think if he returned to an empty house? Her only consolation was that the apartment would be cleaner than the day they moved in.

As if hearing her thoughts, the doorbell suddenly rang. Sarah jumped to her feet, wondering if fate would really play a trick as cruel as this, tempting her with something they had no intention of giving up.

"Who is it?" she called as she walked down the hallway. When there was no response, her heart quickened. The all-too-familiar sensation of tears began to mist her eyes as she whispered his name. She rarely said it aloud these days; afraid even the slightest remembrance would trigger something in herself she had no way of controlling.

She held her breath as she gripped the door handle and swung it open. Sarah had gotten better at lowering her expectations, it hurt a little less each time she was faced with disappointment.

You knew it couldn't be, she consoled as she stared at the man standing in front of her.

Bryce held up a large brown bag which Sarah promptly ignored. 'What do you want?" she asked.

"You look awful," he announced, pushing his way into the apartment. Sarah rolled her eyes as he walked down the hallway without removing his shoes, ruining a good two hours of labor. "When was the last time you ate?"

Sarah slammed the door and followed him into the dining room where Bryce was already spreading out the contents of his offering onto the table.

"The house reeks of bleach, what have you been doing?" he asked, eyeing her suspiciously. His eyes darted to the immaculate kitchen tiles and the bucket of soapy water she had abandoned there. "When was the last time you slept?"

Sarah crossed her arms. The best answer was nothing. "You're getting sauce all over the table," she complained.

"When was the last time you ate?" He eyed the kitchen counter but Sarah had already thrown away the last package of food he'd sent over. When she didn't respond, he walked across the kitchen and pulled open the fridge. Sarah winced, knowing Bryce would be unhappy with his find. "For crying out loud, Sarah," he cursed.

Coming up empty-handed, he stalked back into the dining room and took a seat.

"Are you going to just stand there?" he demanded.

"What did you find?"

Bryce removed the lid of the first styrofoam carton, licking his lips in an exaggerated fashion.

"What did you find?" she repeated, louder this time. When the man continued to ignore her, she wondered if Bryce was feeling lucky today. He couldn't dodge every punch she threw at him; one of them was bound to hit its intended target.

"Are you going to just stand there?" he asked again.

Sarah narrowed her eyes but she complied, understanding the nature of this game. It was a lose-lose though; Bryce was wasting time better spent trying to find Chuck and Sarah wasn't interested in food.

She walked to the other side of the table and pulled out the chair across from him, only to catch herself. She pushed it back in and took the chair beside it, purposefully sitting diagonal to Bryce.

Meeting the man's questioning eyes, she explained. "You're sitting in Chuck's seat."

Bryce nodded at the vacant seat across from him. "So isn't that your usual spot then?"

Sarah lowered her eyes, picking at the foam containers with her nails. "You're not Chuck," she informed flatly. If circumstances had been different, she might have been more careful with her responses, but these days she simply didn't give a damn.

The answer wasn't what Bryce had been expecting but the most he revealed was a single dissatisfied grunt.

"This isn't lunch meat you know," he informed, pointing down at his plate. "It's triple A sirloin, best place in town."

He pushed her portion forwards until it was right in front of her. "Come on…it's good."

Sarah pushed it back. "Bryce," she warned.

"You know they've opened up a new restaurant a few blocks down? It looks nice, very upscale. I think you'd like it…"

"Bryce."

"I think they used some sort of citrus marinade as a glaze," he pressed, chewing thoughtfully. "Try it, Sarah, tell me what you think."

"I don't care," she snapped. "You know there's only one thing I care about."

Bryce threw down his plastic utensils. "You know I can't tell you anything about that."

Sarah's eyes darkened. He had a lot of nerve. "Can't, or won't?"

She met his gaze but Bryce stood his ground, his eyes glowering like cold steel. She knew he would be as inclined to speak as an animal with its mouth wired shut.

"Fine," she said, standing to her feet. "Don't say anything at all."

"Sarah—" Bryce reached across the table and grabbed her hand just as she was about to leave. "You have to eat something."

"Why?" she asked with a shake of her head. "What's the point?"

"Sarah," he called, his voice wavering. He gripped her harder, keeping her from running away. "Come on, Sarah. What are you doing to yourself?"

Sarah avoided his gaze. "Please don't look at me like that," she said. "It's over, Bryce."

The man licked his lips like he was prepared to give an impassioned speech but the distinct ring of a cell stole his attention. He let go of her and reached for his pocket, turning his back to answer it.

"Yeah, what?"

Bryce's posture grew rigid and Sarah found herself leaning over the table trying to catch even a single word. Her ears pricked with anticipation and she scrutinized his every blink and breath; the subtlety of his posture as he ran his hand through his long dark hair.

The call was over within a matter of seconds and Bryce turned back to her face her, a changed man. "I have to go," he said.

"Is it about Chuck?" she asked. "Bryce?"

Bryce wouldn't look at her. "Answer me!" she demanded, storming up to him.

"Stay put," he dismissed, slipping on his jacket. "Eat your dinner."

Sarah slapped him, not even realizing she had until the tell-tale red welt had formed on his face. "Don't talk to me that way," she warned, breathless with nerves. "Is this about Chuck?"

Bryce wouldn't say. "I have to go," he repeated and moved towards the door.

Sarah was taken aback, temporarily frozen by surprise. No. He couldn't leave her hanging like this.

"Take me with you," she insisted, latching onto him. She pushed him—hard, against the wall, pinning him with all the strength she had. "Take me with you!"

Bryce sighed, his eyes softening. It was a rare show of indecision. "You're in no condition," he said. "You're way too emotional for this."

"I am not!" she screamed, fury boiling inside of her. Didn't he know who she was? "I'm one of the best, you know that! I can help you!"

"I have people helping me already," he informed, and very easily thwarted her next blow. "You admitted yourself that returning would be a mistake."

"This isn't returning, I just want to be there when you find him," she said. Couldn't he see that?

Tired of this game, Bryce spun her around, throwing her into the adjacent wall. The intensity of his grip surprised her and she felt completely and utterly helpless, like a turtle flipped on its shell.

"I'll tell you when I get back," he hissed, breathing down her neck. "Until then, don't do anything stupid."

He let her go, and Sarah fell forwards onto the ground. By the time she was back on her feet, Bryce was already gone.

You're hopeless.

For once, Sarah agreed. She swallowed her wounded pride and succumbed to her first instinct, donning a pair of rubber gloves and clearing the table. She needed the distraction and needed it badly.

In a few hours Bryce would call as he always did. She could almost hear him on the other line, reluctantly confessing that the lead had been a dead end. That their intel had been wrong. That Chuck was still out there somewhere; anywhere but here with her.

Sarah wiped the table feverishly, scrubbing to calm herself. She had just thrown the boxes into the garbage and was about to begin the work of cleaning the floors again when there was a knock at the door. She rolled her eyes. What now?

She removed her gloves and stormed down the hallway. Did Bryce realize his mistake? Served him right, who was he to tell her what to do?

She swung open the door, ready to give him an earful, only to have words escape her.

Brown hair, 6' 2", and the warmest eyes she'd ever known.

Sarah could no longer help herself. Tears immediately sprang to mind, the only defense she had left. She reached out hesitantly to him, wondering if she had finally fallen off the deep end. They said if you wanted something bad enough, you could make it happen.

Let this be real. Let this be real.

Her fingers touched solid warmth and when she rested her hand against his chest, she could feel his heart beating against her palm.

She whimpered his name.

Please, she begged. When he reached out and held her hand, she didn't care if she was dreaming, she didn't ever want to wake.