A/N: Yes, this is THE chapter you've been waiting for, after twenty chapters i'm surprised you're still following this. thank you. it really means a lot.

I was going to edit and post tomorrow but i made a deal with altonish that when he posted doldrums i would post mine. so you have him to thank. He also deserves all the credit for creating Largemart Chicken Caesar salads. I am merely a small-time distributor.

Chapter 20:

At first he thought he had the wrong apartment. Maybe he had turned a corner too early or knocked on the adjacent door. It wouldn't be the first time.

But then he saw the tears that streamed down her porcelain white face and he realized that it was her, or whatever was left of her in this fragile shell of a woman. She reached out to him and Chuck couldn't even move, couldn't even fathom what had happened.

When she whispered his name, she might as well have screamed it. It struck every nerve in his body and his first instinct was to wrap her in his arms where he could keep her safe forever. He restrained himself and did so gently, afraid he would break her in her current state. Sarah wept into his shirt, burying her face against his chest.

All of Jill's prior warnings ceased to exist. Sarah may have lied to him, but there was no way she could have done something like this to herself to fool him. To go from someone so beautiful and radiant into this frail waif of a person was beyond comprehension.

Oh God. It was him. He did this. He did this to her.

Chuck closed all the distance between them but even then, he couldn't help feeling as if there was only half of her to hold. Guilt dropped on him like anvils from the sky, and he held on even tighter, not even realizing he could scarcely breathe.

He tangled his fingers through her limp yellow hair, grazing his lips across her temple.

"Sarah," he whispered, dropping his chin so their foreheads touched. "Is this real?"

Chuck could see that she was wondering the same thing. She didn't respond and only latched onto him tighter, fear blatant in the whites of her eyes.

"Sarah." He traced his hands across her face, horrified by the bony prominences that hadn't been there before. "Sarah, do you love me?"

Sarah looked confused. She tilted her head upwards and stared at him, halting the torrent of tears that streamed down her lily white cheeks. She spoke with her eyes alone, reflecting a look of hurt and disappointment, as if to ask how he could ever think otherwise.

And then she kissed him, not like the countless encounters that preceded this, but like two survivors of a horrific crash, clinging onto each other as if they were the last remaining of their kind. As if at any second, the other would perish.

And in that instant, Chuck realized he didn't care if this was all still a lie. She could kill him, burn down the government, wreck havoc on the millions of lives that depended on him, and he would willingly stand witness to it all.

If this was a dream, then he never wanted to wake.

If none of this was real, then he wanted her to lie to him.

All he wanted was her.

_

It was a strange feeling for him to be back. As he stepped into the kitchen for the first time in weeks, he felt as if he were seeing the world through a new set of eyes. Everything looked brighter, clearer, better.

Beside him, Sarah's hands clutched his tightly. She hadn't let go since his return, and even now Chuck could sense her stealing glances at him, constantly trying to reassure herself of his presence.

"Do you..." Chuck never thought he'd see a day when she would look so hesitant. "Do you want something to drink?" She smiled at him but it was mixed with tears. "I have water. And tea. Do you want some tea?"

Chuck squeezed her hand. "This is my house too, you know."

She nodded sadly. "I know," she said, "I just..." She covered her mouth with her free hand, trying to hide a broken sob. "I'm just really glad you're back."

Chuck lowered his eyes, afraid to come face-to-face with all the repercussions of his actions.

What could he say to make things better?

What could he do to erase all the pain?

When he finally gazed into her watershed blue eyes, he thought she looked just as hapless as he did. Neither of them knew what to do.

"Some water would be nice." It was a stupid thing to say, but somehow, sorry seemed too pathetic for words.

She nodded slowly. "Okay. Coming right up." Just as she's about to go, she stopped and looked down at her hands. The separation was inevitable, but when she slid her fingers from his, he felt as if she had torn a piece of himself with it.

Sarah winced as she turned towards the cupboards. "Have a seat," she said quietly. "I'll just be a minute."

She returned with a full glass and set it down in front of him but Chuck wasn't interested in quenching his thirst. He reached for her hand and held it, desperate for the peace of mind.

"I'm sorry," he said. Everyone said sorry, but he meant it, really meant it. And if only she could see into the depths of his soul, she would know just how terrible he felt.

Sarah doesn't say anything as she slides into the chair across from him. There's no hint of the woman he saw that day at the parkade; all he sees is his wife. The woman he loved and promised to love forever.

"How did you get back?" she asked. Chuck's haunted by her voice, it's too quiet, too soft to belong to Sarah.

"I took a cab." She nodded, as if this was all so normal. "I didn't have any money so I had to give him my jacket for the fare." When Chuck looked up at Sarah, the corner of her lips twitched in some semblance of a smile.

She reached over and rested her other hand atop his. "You're still wearing your ring," she pointed out.

Chuck just stared. "Why wouldn't I?"

Sarah said nothing but he read into her expression. She couldn't be faulted for asking; his actions had certainly sent the message.

"Is everything okay, Sarah?" Chuck realized too late what a stupid question that was.

Does she look okay?

The muscles in her jaw tensed but she forced a smile and nodded. "Yeah, I will be."

It wasn't exactly the answer he'd been looking for.

He looked expectantly at her, and wondered why she hadn't bombarded him with questions yet. Didn't she want to know what had happened? Didn't she want to know about Jill?

There was so much he wanted to ask, but where to start? He still didn't know any more than before, still didn't know what was real and what wasn't.

"Sarah, I need you to tell me the truth."

Chuck wondered if she would do that for him or if he was no closer to understanding than when all this started.

He could spend all day picking apart her lies, but that didn't mean he cared for her any less. His feelings for Sarah. Her feelings for him. That was real. Maybe the only thing in his life that was.

"Can I ask you something?"

Sarah didn't respond but she didn't shy away either.

"You and Bryce?" he whispered. The first real lie she told him.

Sarah closed her eyes and for a second he thought she would tell him another lie. But then she stared straight at him and nodded once, guilt written all over her face. For some reason, the admission didn't hurt him as much as he thought it would.

"Me and Jill?"

Sarah's resolve seemed to waver but saying nothing, she nodded again.

Chuck nodded back like he understood.

"I didn't want to tell you," she whispered. "Not because you couldn't handle it but because they weren't things either of us were proud of." She blinked back a string of tears. "Things I wasn't proud of," she corrected.

Chuck leaned forwards and kissed her on the cheek, trying to take away some of the bitterness.

"I'm sorry, Chuck," she said. It seemed 'sorry' had become the word of the day. "Please don't leave me," she begged. "I'll tell you anything you want. All of it, I'll tell you everything."

Chuck squeezed her hand, trying to reassure her, but she was shaking. "It's okay, don't say anything," he said. Right now this is enough.

But Sarah was not satisfied. "No, you should know," she said, her voice escalating with urgency. "We knew Jill as your ex, but we never imagined she was a rogue agent. We didn't realize the threat she posed until it was too late, not until she had gotten too close. When she surrendered to the agency she promised she'd reformed. We trusted her but it was only another lie."

She swallowed nervously, the blue of her eyes dark with turmoil. "I was going to kill her," she said. "But you wouldn't let me."

Chuck closed his eyes. That day, the hesitation before she fired, that had been for his sake. Chuck nodded and rubbed her arm, trying to soothe her in any way he could. Now was not the time for judgment or accusations; what had happened had happened.

"Our superiors agreed she would be worth more to us alive than dead. They locked her away and we thought we saw the last of her."

"Okay," he whispered. Chuck could see it. Jill had a silver tongue; she had manipulated him over and over again for her own gain. He was embarrassed to have repeated the mistake so many times.

"Sarah, please don't cry," he begged, his thumbs trying to keep pace with the wet stains that appeared on her reddened cheeks. "It's okay, I'm here."

He could see she didn't completely believe him and he didn't blame her. He never should have run away.

"Bryce and I happened a long time ago," she said. "A very long time ago, before I even met you."

"Okay," he soothed. "That's okay."

"I didn't tell you that night, I didn't know how," she whispered. "You knew him as your best friend, you would have—"

"Well, not best friend," Chuck reminded, hoping to coax a smile from her. She looked up at him so vacantly it was as if she had forgotten how. "Sarah, it's okay. I believe you. And I'm sorry I didn't before." He wiped her cheeks for what he prayed would be the last time. "Please don't cry. It kills me to see you like this."

Sarah stared up at him, the darkness in her eyes clearing like a storm cloud had been lifted from them.

"This isn't a dream, is it?"

He ran his fingers through her hair. "Would a dream do this?" He leaned over the table and nipped her on her nose. "Or this?" he asked as he grazed his lips across her cheeks.

Sarah was humourless though. "Say it," she said. "You have to say it."

The desperation in her eyes frightened him.

Chuck shook his head. "No, not a dream," he said.

Sarah sighed with relief as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Good," she whispered, as if she could scarcely believe it. "Thank God."

"I'm sorry, Sarah."

She looked sharply at him, her sorrows momentarily displaced. "Promise me something."

"Of course." Anything.

"Don't ever apologize again. You have nothing to be sorry for." Even if he wanted to, Chuck couldn't argue with the resoluteness in her eyes. "I'm sorry. This was my fault entirely. I was selfish; I kept you in the dark."

Chuck wanted to protest but her gaze was so fierce, so full of conviction, that all he wanted to do was move past this and seek solace in that it was behind them.

"I understand why you did it," he whispered. If the pain of the past was even a fraction of what he'd suffered these last few weeks, he would have lied too. He would have looked her straight in the eye, sworn on his grave, crossed his heart and hoped to die as he said them.

"I'll make this up to you," she whispered, rising from her chair.

Chuck gazed complacently at her. "Okay."

She shook her head, the corners of her lips finally creeping into some semblance of a smile. "No, Chuck, I don't think you understand."

And clearly he didn't because he was taken by surprise when she grabbed his collar and yanked him over to her half of the table.

"I was thinking more along the lines of…right now."