A/N: First off, let me just say sorry for the time it has taken me to post this. Life caught up so that's why this chapter took a week longer to make. I don't know whether or not I can adhere to the weekly posting schedule but I'll try my hardest.

Once again, a huge amount of gratitude to everyone who reviews this story or puts it on their alert. Every time I get a new message in my inbox, I grin like a fool. And it's totally worth it. So thank you.

I found that this story bears similarities to Chuck Versus the Decision. Not a lot mind you, but enough that some people may think that I'm plagiarizing the story. Please know that I did not read said story until 21 November 2011. Any similarities are purely by coincidence.

Once more a massive thank you to ShinyJayne19 for listening to me when I bitch and moan about stuff (not necessarily about Chuck) and helping me out with plot points and my generally awesome sense of insecurity. You rock, you truly do. She also updated Redeeming Intentions just now, so go read that. I'll wait… No, really I will. Done? Alright, great, let's get this show on the road.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. There was a point in time where I thought that it would be better if I did because the show was in shambles. But they redeemed themselves with some amazing episodes lately. So now, I'm happy I don't own anything.

The Good Samaritan, Chapter 4
The Communicating

Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center
Wednesday, December 15th, 2004
11:24

The promise that she had made herself and the consequent rejection to a new mission was forgotten as she looked at him lying in his bed. His face was smoothed out, no creases to indicate the pain that he must've been in. She had been stitched up a couple of times, so she could somewhat relate. But she had never actually had a stab wound that wasn't superficial. She almost winced as she imagined how he must've felt. But all that was in the somewhat-distant past now. He had gotten the care that he needed and as the doctor had told her, all that was needed now was for Chuck to find some emotional comfort. So far, she seemed to be doing a good job, but if Sarah was honest, she knew for a fact that he wouldn't truly be emotionally at rest until he got to see his family.

She sat on the bed and decided to take stock of the situation. She had effectively blown off her job to take care of someone who, despite the brief talks she had had, was still a stranger. A stranger who made her impulsive. Reckless. A stranger who made Samantha come out of her shell and made sure that the Sarah Walker character was stored up safely. She wasn't sure what was more terrifying. Thinking you were going to die or getting reacquainted with a personality you thought you would never see again. Sarah decided that so far, it was a tie.

She glanced around the room and spotted the duffel bag, unceremoniously dumped in the corner next to the bed. She glanced in the bag and found a few of the magazines that she had picked up. Normally she wasn't one for reading, except if it was her new mission objectives. But seeing as how she had, due to her own insistence, found herself without a mission in the foreseeable future she figured that she had nothing to lose. She picked up a gossip magazine and started leafing through it.

Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center
Wednesday, December 15th, 2004
11:40

Sarah groaned and looked at her watch. She had wasted fourteen minutes with reading and already she was bored. She couldn't believe people actually bought these magazines. A part of her wondered if Chuck would read these kinds of magazines. She dismissed it almost immediately. Surely the man has more substance than that… right? She couldn't help but wonder what went on behind his eyes. What kind of a man he truly was. She found herself slowly twiddling her thumbs before reaching for the gaming magazine. She stopped halfway through and realized one very important thing. She was bored. The anxiety had worn off and Chuck was asleep so she was alone with her thoughts again. And no one liked a brooding Sarah Walker. That was for sure. She once again eyed her duffel bag and a plan began to form in her mind. It wasn't so much a plan as it was a chance for her to pick up her normal routine, but she decided to go ahead with it anyway. She grabbed the note pad that had been left on top of the desk and wrote her address, cell phone number and the address of where she would be down on the paper. She grinned when she realized that this was the first time she had willingly given her phone number who wasn't in any way connected to her job. Life did indeed work in mysterious ways. Not even Paul knew how to reach her. She'd always come to him.

Her decision made, she placed the card with her details on the little desk in the same way she had placed the get well card and got up, slinging the duffel bag over her shoulder and heading out. It was time to release some of her stress, the only way she knew how.

24 Hour Fitness
Wednesday, December 15th, 2004
12:35

She was panting but it didn't deter her in her efforts. She pushed on, not content until every last shred of stress was handled with and she could return, tired but revitalized all the same. Still, that was also the main issue at hand. Her thoughts kept straying. She didn't get the same fulfillment from the slapping of soles on the treadmill. She didn't get the feeling of accomplishment every time she cranked out ten miles. So she pushed on. It was around the fifteen mile mark that Paul came up.

"Are you about to go into hibernation or something?"

"Huh?" she gasped. "What are you talking about?"

"The way you're running, it seems like you're saving up enough miles to pass the winter. So will we be seeing you back in the spring again?"

Sarah laughed but it came out raggedly. She slowly eased her pace back to a walking one. Stopping instantly would have detrimental effects on her muscles and that was the one thing she couldn't afford. What if Graham… called…? She belatedly realized that until further notice, Graham would not be calling. And it was all due to that damn room in the hospital.

Her Agent mode, which she lovingly referred to as Agent Walker whereas her own self was just Sarah, screamed at her to cut ties and go back to the Agency. Back where she belonged. She often listened to her Agent side. It had kept her alive during the somewhat hectic missions that she had been on with the CAT squad. She loved Carina dearly, like a sister even, but the woman could not, not cause trouble. Amy on the other hand was just content to sit around and look happy. Zondra… well, things were better left unsaid on that front.

She sighed when she responded. "No, just a bit more stress than usual." She gave him a small smile hoping it would be enough to please him.

No dice.

"What happened? Your TV blew up?" he teased her.

"Something like that," she responded with a weak chuckle. "A… uh… a friend is in the hospital so I've been visiting him." She neglected to mention that said friend had been in her life for a grand total of not quite twenty-four hours.

"Ah, that's bad news. Is he okay?"

"I guess. I'm not much of an expert when it comes to stabbings so I wouldn't really know."

Paul gasped. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Sarah shrugged. "He survived so that's more than I could've hoped for."

"Well, give him my best wishes. I'll leave you to it." He stepped back to behind the counter and Sarah could only be grateful that he didn't prod further. Paul had an uncanny knack of knowing when it was time to retreat.

Sarah blew out a sigh and tentatively stepped off the treadmill. Her legs were somewhat wobbly and she actually stumbled for a second but she managed to regain her equilibrium fast enough. She glanced over to the mats that were propped up against the mirrors and decided that it would be best to do some calisthenics. She walked over and rolled out a mat, positioning herself on it. As she had done the day before, she focused on the beat of the music and started her sit ups. But instead of her mind being blank, thoughts kept going through her head. You said you'd be there. Why are you here? She willed the voice, which had been one she hadn't heard in a while, to be quiet. But instead of providing a relaxing atmosphere, the generic pop song proved to be the proverbial nails over chalkboard.

She sat up and released the grip on her head. She blew out a heavy sigh and chided herself for not being able to complete even the simplest of tasks. Chastising was a form that was most popularly used by United States drill sergeants to motivate and teach cadets. They had nothing on the instructors the CIA found. Sarah was pretty sure that these instructors were people who were kicked out of the army for being too much of an asshole.

Still, despite all the verbal and sometimes physical abuse they had hurled towards her, she had come out stronger. That whatever doesn't kill you, simply makes you stronger, had been the mantra that had been put on an infinite loop throughout her mind. And it was true, or at least she thought it was. Until she came face to face with the one thing they had never taught her and life had always withheld from her. A tangible, real connection to another human being. There were no protocols to be followed. The only thing that had been ever said with regards to connections was something along the lines of 'Don't do it. They tend to die on you,' and Sarah had had enough abandonment to last her a lifetime. So connections were definitely out. At least, so she thought.

She briefly contemplated continuing her set but she knew it would be a futile attempt. So she got up and rolled her mat up, placing it back where she had found it. A vital part to being both a conman and a spy was to never draw attention to yourself if you didn't want it to. And she definitely didn't want to be noticed now, so leaving her stuff in the correct places seemed like the smart thing to do.

Of course, not being noticed was always easier in a crowd as opposed to a gym where the predominant hormone running rampant was testosterone. Sarah did make the concession of wearing a t-shirt instead of a sports bra. However, CIA protocol dictated fast reaction time so most of her t-shirts were of the tight variety. But she did manage to find one that, while still clinging to the obvious parts, was not as revealing as the others were. And it was dark purple, so any perspiration on her part wouldn't lead to an impromptu wet t-shirt contest. Somehow, she had the feeling that it wouldn't help with keeping men from hitting on her. She didn't need CIA training to figure that one out.

As much as her workout had left her fatigued, it didn't take away the growing sense of uneasiness that had been bubbling to the surface ever since she had left the hospital. It wasn't so much a feeling of uneasiness, more like she was betraying someone. If she had to label it, it would probably end up being called guilt. But that was insanity. What did she have to be guilty for? She hadn't felt guilty ever since… actually, she couldn't remember the last time she felt guilty. Not even her Red test made her feel guilty. It made her terrified and angry, sure. But guilty? That was not the emotion that had registered on her spectrum. But there it was; she felt guilty. Not because she left him alone but because of the fact that she had made him a promise and she was putting her own needs in front of his. It hit her like a sledgehammer when she realized that she actually wanted to take care of him. It was like he triggered some long dormant maternal instinct within Sarah that she didn't knew even existed, much less could take up such a prevalent position within her usual thought processes.

She glanced at the heavy bag, idly swinging after one of the patrons had just vacated it, simply asking for Sarah to unleash her frustrations on the bag. She didn't want to flaunt her extensive knowledge of just about every form of martial arts that the far East had ever devised, figuring that an accountant shouldn't have that particular knowledge. But there was something oddly cathartic about being able to project anger on an inanimate object and being able to beat the stuffing out of it. She figured she would try some kickboxing, obviously not with the crispness that her five years of experience gave her but with enough style and class to show people that she knew what she was doing. If people asked she could just say she took self defense classes. A woman who looked like her would definitely need that in a city like Washington. Of course there were quite a few robbers who had already been on the unfortunate end of Sarah Walker in self defense mode. Quite a few had decided that maybe it wasn't in their best interest to keep trying to rob people.

She walked over and found some gloves lying around the bag. She strapped them on and gave a couple of test jabs, before landing a satisfying smack with a sudden leg movement. The bag began to swing erratically as Sarah continued her routine, trying to project her demons and insecurities on the bag. It had always helped soothing her, allowed her to get her thoughts in order and provide her with a clear solution to any problems she had been facing.

Today, none of it helped.

Dejected, she let the bag swing its course, no longer forcing it backwards through a flurry of her kicks and punches. She tore at the Velcro and slid the gloves off, before unceremoniously tossing them back where she found them. Dejectedly and still irked about the fact that she couldn't get a lid on her damn emotions she walked to the dressing room. She dressed quickly, choosing to forsake taking a shower. Maybe Chuck would be so repulsed by her smell that he'd send her away. It wouldn't do anything to quell her emotions but at least she'd have a legitimate excuse to take some time to herself and find her baseline.

Sighing, she stood up and slung the duffle bag over her shoulder, managing a half-hearted wave towards Paul.

Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center
Wednesday, December 15th, 2004
14:10

Sarah rushed to the bedside and snatched the note from the desk before folding it up and sticking it in the pocket of her pants. There was no need for him to read it. After all, she had promised him she would be here when he woke up. Sarah glanced at her watch. He's taking his time.

Almost on cue Chuck began to stir. She saw his nose twitch. At least that part of her plan would work out accordingly. He slowly opened his eyes and looked at Sarah. "Good afternoon, sleepy," she playfully chided him.

"Wha… what time is it?" he asked her groggily. His eyes were half lidded but his eyes weren't glazed over. She figured he must still be under the influence of morphine, but not enough to cloud his judgment or his speech. He was fairly lucid.

"Ten past two in the afternoon."

Chuck groaned, before sniffing again. "Did you get a new perfume when I was asleep? Because it smells amazing in here."

Sarah wanted to bang her head against the cupboard. Of course he wasn't repulsed by her smell. He seemed to bask in it. Was it really too much to ask for one of her plans to work out? Apparently, following plans didn't seem to be in the repertoire of Chuck Bartowski. She sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Gods for him not being an asset she had to protect. She could only imagine the amount of danger that he would get himself in. Something as crazy as dangling off of rooftops would probably become a common occurrence for him. "Um, no… this is actually me after a working out."

Chuck's face flushed scarlet and a gurgled noise escaped from the back of his throat. "Oh God, I'm sorry for what I just said."

"Don't be," Sarah shrugged. "It was kind of sweet in a really weird way."

"If my sister asks if I made a fool out of myself, please tell her that I was still under the influence of morphine when this went down. I don't think I could live it down if she found out what just happened."

"My lips are sealed," she promised him. "Oh, by the way. I managed to get in touch with your sister. She's obviously worried sick but she's on her way. She'll text me the details of her flight and I'll go pick her up."

Chuck was silent for a long moment. Oh, he tried to speak a few times, but nothing would come out. Finally, he managed to ask, "How sure were you that you're not an angel, again?"

"It's the least I could do, what with you being here all by your lonesome. Everyone needs someone to help them out at certain points in their life. Why would it be any different for you?" Still, she felt like a hypocrite, handing out sage wisdom like that while failing to take note of it herself. If there was one thing known in the spy community, it was that Graham's prodigy did not want any help.

"Still," he started. "I want to thank you for the amazing care you've provided for me. You didn't have to do any of it, but I'm really glad that it was you that I ran into on those streets."

"That sounds like a dismissal. Are you dismissing me, Chuck?" she asked in a playful tone.

Chuck's eyes widened. "Oh God no! No, I wouldn't dare. I love having you around; at least I won't become bored out of my mind. But that's not to… if you want to leave you can leave," he finished, doing a fairly decent job of keeping the desperation out of his voice, but his eyes betrayed him.

Sarah smiled. "I'm good, actually."

"So, what do you want to do?" he asked her.

"You're the one in a hospital bed, it's your call."

"Well, you're in a hospital bed too. You may not be sick but you're sleeping there anyway," he countered. "Plus, the least I could do is let you have fun while you're here; after all you're giving up your time for me. It'd be rude not to try and let you have some good old, decent fun."

Sarah shrugged. "How about a game?" Chuck's eyes brightened and at that moment, Sarah knew that she was in for a special afternoon.

They ended up playing 'Guess Who?' At Chuck's insistence, Sarah got the Star Wars edition, whatever the hell Star Wars was. They managed to play the game and keep each other entertained for six hours straight. As Sarah laid herself down on the bed, she honestly couldn't remember ever having as much fun as she had today, playing a silly game with Chuck Bartowski and talking about whatever she wanted to talk about. Granted, most of the talking came from his side and he had her in stitches when he told her about the antics of his best friend and his co-workers, but that was okay. Sarah was never really good with words anyway and Chuck seemed like he could talk enough for the both of them. With a contented sigh and a small smile, she closed her eyes and snuggled into the comforter. Her phone buzzed and reluctantly she opened her eyes to look at it. Ellie had texted her, her time of arrival. She set the alarm of her phone to notify her when she would have to leave the hospital and once again closed her eyes. The soft beeping of the ECG proved to be an effective lullaby and before she knew it, she was dreaming. Her dreams once again took her to that fateful night in Paris.

Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center
Thursday, December 16th, 2004
08:12

The dead woman gazed into her eyes and Sarah flinched. The woman opened her mouth and spoke to her. That had never happened before. "Sarah," she softly murmured. It sounded like the woman was calling her name from the insides of a submarine. "Sarah, are you okay?"

She jolted awake, her rapid breath slowly ebbing away. The cobblestone streets slowly receded back into her mind and the gray that had dominated the streets of the city was replaced by the stark white of the hospital room. The sirens of the police were substituted with the ever present beeping of the ECG. She looked around the room in a panicky fashion and her eyes fell on Chuck who was eyeing her with uncertainty from his pillow. "Are you okay?" he repeated his question.

"Yeah… yeah I'm fine."

"Really? Because you were moaning and breathing really heavy and… oh…" he awkwardly trailed off, before blushing. "Forget I said anything."

It dawned on Sarah what Chuck thought was going on and for a second she decided to just let him believe that she had in fact been dreaming just that. But that would make the rest of her stay really awkward and if anything, she really enjoyed the day before. Despite the fact that he was still in some pain and he wasn't allowed to walk yet, he had improved to a somewhat healthy skin color and he seemed to be able to string his sentences together without trailing off awkwardly. So letting him believe what he thought was happening, was out of the question. "It wasn't that. I had a nightmare,"

His eyes did a funny dance. They went from relief to distressed, all in the space of a second. Anyone less than Sarah would've missed it. She pondered why his eyes would display those emotions but before she could, Chuck once again disturbed the silence. "Do you… want to talk about it? Ellie tells me I'm a great listener."

Sarah didn't deal too well with talking about herself. She was a woman of action. But since there were no terrorists to beat up or fleeing scumbags to shoot she was stuck in a pickle. Luckily, deflection had always been something that Sarah was good in. "Don't worry about it, but hey speaking of which, Ellie is flying in today. You'll get to see her again." Then she added, "I pulled some strings, they were taking too long with getting in touch with her according to me."

"Oh my God!" Chuck exclaimed. "Really? Oh, I'd hug you if I could, but since I'm sort of tied up at the moment, I'll owe you one." His face clearly showed his anticipation and it made Sarah's heart flutter to think that she had been paramount in making him feel better. And if she was completely honest with herself, that hug didn't sound half bad. It had been a while since she had been given a hug.

But just as fast, Chuck's happiness disappeared and he looked at her with piercing brown eyes, which radiated warmth and kindness. "But seriously Sarah, tell me about the dream. I may not be Freud, but I can at least provide an ear."

Sarah sighed. Chuck may not have known it himself but he could be awfully persuasive if he wanted to. She relented, obviously giving him an edited version. "Basically, my superiors handed me the numbers of a corporation that they wanted me to check. I spotted some irregularities and reported them to my boss who told me to disregard them and give the company the all clear. If I had reported the numbers I would've been fired, but the whole thing still irked me. Eventually I decided to throw caution in the wind and not report them. I sent the numbers back to the company and simply forgot about it.

Later I heard that the company had presented the numbers at the annual conference. Someone else spotted the irregularities and called them out on it. It turned out that the CEO had been a large scale embezzler. He had been using profits from the company to fund his private account. The CEO got fired and as a result, the board of directors got disbanded. Their stock plummeted and the company went bankrupt. My name was left out of the initial investigation so they never tied me to the whole ordeal. And I'm glad that they did end up finding out and arrested the CEO. But at the same time, I felt terrible for all the employees who were innocent and didn't know anything until they were told that they were all let go. Every time I go to bed I can't help but see all those people gaze up at me in silent wonder and I keep asking myself, 'Is there something I could've done differently?'"

As soon as she stopped talking, Sarah couldn't help but be amazed at how open she had been. Sure, everything she had told him was a lie. There was no CEO who was embezzling. There was a woman who bled out on the streets of Paris, sure. But the emotions she felt; the guilt that had been lodged in her like a bullet, those were all real. She had never told anyone about it before but it felt natural to tell him. She looked him in the eyes and all she saw was his undivided attention and his utter and complete feeling of empathy for her situation. Not a hint of judgment.

"Why didn't you report it?" he tentatively asked, not knowing whether he was overstepping his bounds.

"Because I love my job and it's important to me." She wisely left out that it was pretty much the only thing she had left in her life. It didn't do for Chuck to know that.

"Okay," he nodded.

Okay? He's not going to ask why I didn't just look for a new firm? It once again struck Sarah how easy Chuck was with accepting and trusting other people. He had trusted her completely; hell he even asked her if she could be there for him. Sure she had saved him, but they didn't even know each other. She had just been a Good Samaritan. That was all. Sarah couldn't help but think back to her own world, the one built on lies and deceit. She knew that Chuck would never fare in the world of muddled morals and questionable actions, the world in which it was easy to profess your undying love for someone, only to shoot him in the head a day later.

He continued in a soft voice. "You shouldn't feel guilty for what you did, Sarah. I won't claim to know what makes you tick, but you were put between a rock and a hard place. And if your job really means that much to you then you did the right thing. And hey, besides, at the end of the day, the bad guys got caught, right? So that means that they can't do much more harm. It's good that you feel guilty over it, that's what makes us human. But it shouldn't eat you alive; no one should have nightmares of the magnitude that you're having."

Unknowingly, Chuck had touched upon the one point that Sarah had continuously used as a mantra to keep herself somewhat sane. While in her created version she didn't take any affirmative action, she had in the real world. And it meant that the traitor couldn't do any more harm. Couldn't sell secrets to the highest bidder anymore or whatever she had done to get picked up by the CIA radars.

"I know," she started, but he gently cut her off.

"I don't think you do. Because if you did, you wouldn't beat yourself up over it. Okay, so you made the wrong choice, but at the end of the day, you're not in prison and the bad guys got caught. If anything, all this is on your boss. He should've never ordered you to keep it under wraps. You did what you had to do to attain the things that you wanted and despite the consequences. You shouldn't feel guilty. Okay, so maybe the way things turned out weren't the greatest but that's life. You win some, you lose some. If anything, I'm the poster child for that."

Sarah smiled at the encouraging words. "I wish I could believe that."

"Hey, I'll have you know that I had a girlfriend and was close to graduating from Stanford. That is, until my best friend accused me of cheating and then slept with my girlfriend. As I said, you win some, you lose some."

Sarah's mouth fell open. Who would ever want to harm Chuck? Especially someone he considered his best friend. The world made just a little less sense. Of course, the world already stopped making sense the moment that her dad gathered her up and put her in the car, never to see her childhood home ever again. This was just a nice accompaniment.

"Yeah, I know what you're thinking. How could I ever get a girlfriend? Don't worry, I get that a lot." He smiled in her direction and she was sure that the light in the room intensified for a split second.

"Uh…" she managed to say. "That wasn't at all what I was thinking."

Chuck shrugged, but before he could say anything, Sarah's phone buzzed. Her alarm indicated that it was time to go pick up Ellie from the airport. She looked at Chuck apologetically but he shrugged. "Go pick up my sister," he said in a teasing tone.

Sarah nodded, stood up and walked out of the door. She stopped in the doorway though and without turning, said, "Thank you… Chuck."

"You're welcome," he replied. His tone still carried that gentleness that he had employed ever since that morning. Sarah walked out of the room.

As she hailed a cab to get her back to her apartment to pick up the Porsche, she couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, talking to a shrink would be a good idea. Then again, being around Chuck had also lifted her spirits, so maybe she would just have to spend some more time with him.

As was the usual for her, she sunk back into the seats and watched the apartments roll by, sighing. There had always been something inherently relaxing about driving, even if she didn't actually do the driving. It helped her clear her head and for the first time in quite some time, her thoughts weren't muddled with images of Paris. Her conscience had decided to give her a break and Sarah couldn't help but think it was due to Chuck.

Yep, she'd have to definitely spend some more time with him. And that was an order.

A/N2: Sorry, still no Ellie this chapter. I had wholly planned on including her, but if I did, this chapter would grow to gargantuan lengths and I kind of liked keeping my word count similar. Therefore, this will all happen in Chapter 5 (or chapter 4b if you will). While there will still be some introspection, it won't feature as much seeing as how everyone is mostly awake at the same time from now on. So expect a lot more dialogue to appear.