A/N: So, this update took a while. This was originally going to be the second half of the seventh chapter, but I hadn't released anything in a while (plus I recently became ill with the flu. It's kicking my ass at the moment and all I want to do is crawl in bed and wait for it to pass, but alas) and I just knew that the second half of THIS chapter (which was the second half of chapter 7... yes it's confusing :P) would take a while before I could write that. So here's a (small) update to hopefully re-pique your interest. Hope you enjoy. Also, hidden within this chapter is an experiment. I can't wait to see the results of that.

Disclaimer: Don't own Chuck. Big surprise, I know.

The Good Samaritan, Chapter 8
The Pining, part I

Sarah's apartment, Washington D.C.
Tuesday, December 21st, 2004
13:08

Sarah dropped down on her chair, her hand finding the remote with remarkable ease. She clicked her TV on and settled down for a few hours of relaxing television. After that, she'd go work out before settling in for a nice bubble bath, followed by some dinner and eventually succumbing to sleep. After that, she'd make the call to Graham and go to Poland, or wherever they needed her. Chuck was right. This was what she was born for. And it felt like heaven.

Except of course for the fact that she had actually turned her head three times to say something to Chuck, even though her place was empty.

The more time she spent alone, the more she realized how much she had grown to depend on him. Which in itself was insanity. It was a week since she met him. This wasn't normal. Granted, Sarah Walker did not do normal, probably couldn't even do normal, but that was besides the point. The point was that she was captivated by him. Her subconscious had pretty much spelled it out for her.

With a dissatisfied grunt, she turned off the TV. She turned around to quip about how much daytime TV sucked, only to find a potted plant where Chuck was supposed to be. This was ridiculous. She was a spy, for crying out loud. She grabbed the remote again and with a look of pure contempt switched back to a talk show that involved overweight people crying as some kind of bald-headed doctor asked them how it made them feel. Sarah rolled her eyes. Daytime TV really sucked.

The moment that the doctor had closed with some kind of profound wisdom that Sarah was sure would help a lot of people but definitely not her, she clicked off the TV and walked to her bedroom. She picked up her bag and threw in her workout clothes. She needed this. Just like when she left her mother to go with her father on adventures, she needed to keep herself occupied until the memories faded away to the background. In the past that meant conning. Nowadays it meant working out until her muscles started getting their own muscles. `

She cleared out of her apartment and walked down the steps, before hitting the sidewalk and whistling over a cab. The cabbie leered at her for a few seconds, but not long enough to consider maybe inflicting bodily harm. It wasn't her fault she looked good, damn it. Okay, well, maybe a little, but you'd think that people would learn when staring was and wasn't appropriate. Chuck would never... Oh-ho-ho, so not going there, her mind chided her.

She gave him the address to the gym and off they went. Usually, Sarah would walk but she was in no mood to do so today. The sooner she could have a few rounds on the heavy bag, the sooner she'd be able to put this all behind her. The engine hummed as they drove the long route, and Sarah rolled her eyes. "You do know it's not smart to take the long route, when your passenger actually knows the city, right?"

"Sorry ma'am, I have to earn my keep."

"Fine, whatever," she huffed. She just wanted to pound some leather, damn it. Not play sight-seeing with a greasy cab driver. Okay, maybe she was being overly vindictive right now, but she was allowed her days of frustration. Those days where all the emotions were magnified and everything just boiled over into one endless swirl of anger, frustration and melancholy. And today was just one of those days. She was certain it had nothing to do with that... that guy and... Oh to hell with it. This was Chuck's fault damn it. He had gotten under her skin. She had allowed him in and he had taken advantage of that. This was exactly the reason why her dad had taught her to close herself off.

"If you don't let anyone in, they can never hurt you, pumpkin," he had told her. Maybe it wasn't the most sound of parenting advice, but it was a wise lesson nonetheless. And so far she had done a stellar job of keeping people out. And the first person she let in—not that she planned this, of course—took it for granted. Tossed her out like she was some piece of trash.

If she hadn't before, she could really use that heavy bag right about now.

24 Hour Fitness
Tuesday, December 21st, 2004
14:05

Oof!

The exhalation of air was in perfect sync with the fist that swung towards the bag, connecting with the leather at an impressive speed as well as being accompanied by a dull sound. The bag lazily swung like a pendulum, before being met by a vicious back-heel.

Sarah tip-toed around the bag and kept prodding it with gentle fists, before launching into vicious hooks. An enemy operative wouldn't stand a chance. It made her feel powerful. It made her forget the weakness that had been on display ever since those mocha-colored eyes regarded her for the first time. The weakness that had been there when he spoke to her in that gravelly baritone voice of his, with the sincerest expression any person had ever thrown at her. Damn it, he was like a small puppy that you just wanted to take home and pet and cuddle and do all kinds of mushy stuff with that would be perfectly at home with a girly girl with girly feelings, but not at all with the bad ass super spy persona that she was going for.

And that, understandably, frustrated Sarah Walker, Intelligence Officer extraordinaire, codename The Enforcer.

The chain holding the bag up kept clinging and clanging and the exertion caused a sheen of sweat to break out over her. Her breathing grew shallow and she eased down on the tension that had strained her muscles for the past twenty minutes. She gave one final whack before walking back to the bench where she had thrown her bags, and draining half of her water bottle in one major sip.

It was then that she realized that she wasn't okay with this damn it. He didn't even give her an explanation, he just told her to get lost. Not only was it a blow to the ego—who would ever tell her to leave, right?—but it also caused a foreign emotion to course through her. An emotion that should've been subdued thanks to months of training and conditioning courtesy of the Agency. She couldn't quite label it, but it felt very similar to the feeling she dreaded ever since she had first ran off with her father to try and con the middle-class out of their hard earned savings. Rejection.

And that's when she decided that Chuck Bartowski would not have the last word. She was going to go over there and give him a piece of her mind.

With a new resolve, she ran to the dressing rooms, changed and ran out, only stopping to give a quick wave to Paul who looked at her like she had lost her mind. Who knew? Maybe she had. But now, Agent Sarah Walker was on a mission. And she always completed her missions.

Recovery room, Washington Hospital Center
Tuesday, December 21st, 2004
15:20

She all but stormed through the hospital, her eyes blazing. She hadn't figured she would have this kind of a reaction to it, but the man had dismissed her. Dismissed. Her. No one but the director of the CIA was allowed to dismiss Sarah Walker damn it. Especially not a man. And if she was honest, she was pissed. She had been nothing but nice to the man and he sent her away like he didn't care. No wonder all people were inherently assholes who were only out for their own gain.

Yeah, she was going to rip Chuck Bartowski a new one.

She rounded the corner of the hallway and came face to face with the door of his room. She all but ran to the door and burst through, but recoiled when she found the entire room dark, Chuck's form on the bed clutching his knees to his chest. The untamed curls fell lifeless over his head and for all intents and purposes, he looked thoroughly miserable. He looked at her and the glimmer that was so prevalent in all the times she had seen him was completely gone. The only thing his eyes reflected now, was the light coming from the hallway. She wouldn't quite say his eyes were dead, but they certainly weren't full of life anymore.

The anger she felt melted away and the words that she had been so eager to express died on her lips. Instead, all that came out was, "Are you okay?"

He shook his head and averted his gaze from her, a regretful look plastering itself on his face. "I've been an ass," he muttered.

"Why?" she asked. It wasn't as eloquent as she had wanted to be, but practicality trumped eloquence at this point. Besides, if she was as 'eloquent' as she wanted to be, she figured that Chuck might spontaneously burst into tears. She was frustrated, not malevolent.

He looked at her and his face was in a grimace. "Because... I..."

Sarah sighed. "Because what?"

"BecauseIwantedtoimpressyou," he blurted out, before falling down on his bed, groaning. "I can't believe I said that."

"You want to... huh?"

He sighed and dragged a hand over his face. Sarah couldn't help but notice that with the frown in place he looked much older than he should. Like he had been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders for the last couple of months. "Look, it's no secret that I think you're amazing. After all..." He chuckled. "...you did save my life, so that automatically puts you on the same level as Batman and Spiderman. And I figured that you... I don't know... I figured you could come to respect me and maybe even... be impressed if I could instantly walk again without aid. And when I couldn't, I just felt like a failure. Like I failed myself, Ellie, but most importantly, you. And I couldn't handle you pitying me... I couldn't handle you looking at me like I was weak. So I freaked and I acted like an immature jackass." He gazes at the covers and idly plays with one of the corners, akin to when Sarah herself was sorry for something she did and her mother lectured her. "I'm sorry."

She wanted to tell him that he didn't have to do anything to impress her. That she was already impressed enough by the things he'd done, by his attitude towards life in general, about how she'd never felt as hurt in her entire life than when he dismissed her. But she couldn't. All she said was, "Chuck, almost no one can instantly walk again. It's a process. You shouldn't overdo it."

His head shot up. "Huh? Shouldn't you, I don't know, scream at me for being a tool? A jackass maybe? Because you'd be well within your right to do so."

"I'm good, thank you."

"So does that mean I'm forgiven?" The puppy-dog eyes were in full effect, but they didn't do much to her this time around. He had hurt her a lot, and his reasoning, while sweet, was still somewhat weak. But she realized that maybe it wouldn't be such a horrible idea to forgive him. Maybe it wouldn't be a horrible idea to spend just a few more days with him and they could break on amicable terms.

And maybe living in denial wasn't the healthiest thing that she could do.

She shook her head to get rid of the unwanted thoughts and looked at him, before breaking into a sly—and fabricated—grin. "Yes Chuck, that means you're forgiven. I have to warn you though. No more trying to impress me. I want to see you up and about soon, rather than seeing you crawl into bed because you pushed yourself too hard, okay?"

Chuck eagerly nodded his head, the spark in his eyes returning and the curls bouncing around vibrantly. "Yes ma'am," he eagerly replied. Sarah smiled. Maybe confronting this issue wasn't the worst idea in the world after all.

She just hoped they both wouldn't grow too attached to one another before the inevitable parting.

But then again, who was she kidding anyway?

A/N2: So yeah, that solves the cliffhanger from the previous chapter. Hopefully it was to everyone's satisfaction. I'll hopefully see you guys soon, but for now, I'm going to crawl into bed and hope that I'll feel slightly better tomorrow than I do now. It would be a major win in my book.