Okay, I know. Big damn hiatus. Sorry. I'm a bad, bad man. While I had some time to write this past month, I never got that burning desire. But now, I got the Click, baby. I swear, I really do. I'm finally working on Part 10 (Parts 8 and 9 have long been completed).

Yeah, this part is a little more mature than previous parts. Mostly because I doubt Sarah Walker dreams in PG-13. It shouldn't be too bad though.

Point of fact, this part was written well before "Versus The Suburbs". Crap. Has it been that long since I've worked on this?

Oh, and if you're a Buffyverse fan, please read my AUish fic, Sarah the Vampire Slayer (Where I said I'd be posting this part later tonight. Sorry. I got excited. Did I mention I got The Click?). Because Yvonne as a Slayer, doesn't it just make sense? No? Well crap. I thought it did.

CHAPTER EIGHT: SECRET AGENT DREAMS AND STRANGER THINGS, PART ONE

Sarah pulled her Porsche 911 into the circle driveway of a large Victorian home. Parking behind a fully restored white 1970 Dodge Challenger, she cut the ignition and grabbed her coat and briefcase from the passenger's seat.

Inside the house, she hung her coat on the rack. Dropped her briefcase on the curio and her keys into the Star Wars collectable dish. Just like she had nearly every day for the previous three years.

"Honey! I'm home!" she called out. Damn, she loved saying that.

"In the kitchen!" came a far off response.

Sarah didn't even need to ask. She could have followed her nose. The smell of homemade spaghetti sauce filled the downstairs hall.

She entered the kitchen and smiled. Sitting on a stool at the island counter, Chuck busily chopped celery as a program ran on a nearby laptop.

"Ah!" he cried dramatically. "If it isn't the delectable Miss Walker! How goes the world of corporate security?"

Sarah's smile turned to a smirk. Delectable. She rather liked that.

"You mean the world where I provide security for rich businessmen to protect them against various threats, not limited to crazed former employees, corporate espionage, and alimony seeking ex-wives? Just peachy. And how goes the world of corporate computer systems security?"

"You mean the world where I provide security for rich businessmen to protect them against Trojan horses from rival companies, e-mails from alimony seeking ex-wives, and various viruses contracted while surfing the 'Net for hot Asian masseuses? Just peachy."

Chuck pulled her in for a long, slow, lingering kiss. "Aren't you glad I talked you into going into business together?"

"It wasn't your worst idea," Sarah begrudgingly admitted. It wasn't quite as interesting as quelling revolutions in Bolivia, but she got to come home to this every night. Plus, much as she loathed admitting, she wasn't as young as she once was...

"A flash of brilliance, pardon the pun," Chuck smirked. "You handle physical protection, I handle computer protection. Both well inside our wheelhouses."

"Speaking of which," Sarah asked as she hopped onto the counter, "how are the firewalls coming for the guys at Rysko?"

"Quite well, if I say so myself. I've had my best guys try to hack through the protection all day. No one's done it so far. And believe me, they're trying. I promised the winner two weeks paid vacation."

"That's my hubby," Sarah purred, wrapping her arms around Chuck's neck. "Always the master motivator." Her gold wedding band shone on her finger.

"Hey," Chuck smirked, "I believe in rewarding good work. Besides, if I make the people around me happy, they tend to make me happy in return."

"Is that so? I do believe we should test that hypothesis, Mr. Bartowski. But first, I need you to do something for me."

"Yes, love?"

Sarah leaned in close, whispered huskily in his ear. "I've had an itch all day that's been in dire need of scratching. Can you help me out?"

"Oh? Where is it?"

"My leg."

The knuckles of Chuck's right hand brushed against the inside of her left knee. "Here?"

Sarah shook her head. "Higher."

Chuck's fingers slowly walked up her leg. "Tell me when I hit the spot," he breathed.

Her eyes fluttered. Her breathing picked up slightly. Chuck stared in fascination at her lips as she softly breathed the word, "Warmer", a mantra as his hand continued on its journey.

His hand slipped beneath her skirt. By now, her breath was coming in short, rapid pants. "Almost there," she breathed.

Her eyes flew open as her head snapped back. A loud gasp escaped her lips.

"There?" Chuck teased.

Sarah didn't speak, didn't know if she could. So she nodded fervently. But Chuck wasn't having that.

"Verbalize," he drawled.

Blue eyes met brown. Sarah managed to gather her breath enough to say, "I've been thinking about you all day."

"Now that's what a boy likes to hear," Chuck grinned.

"Chuck, please," Sarah whimpered, readjusting slightly, giving him better access, demanding he focus on her.

"A boy likes that even better."

A slight tremor rippled through her body. About a 2.5 on the Richter scale. A nice start, but Chuck was sure he could do better.

"Hang tight, baby," he whispered. "We should have time before—"

In the entrance hall, they heard the front door open, then slam shut.

"—Echo gets home," Chuck finished, a tinge of amusement in his voice.

Sarah, being left high – if not quite dry – was slightly less amused. Chuck delicately pulled her skirt back down, smoothing it out. Sarah buried her face in his shoulder, an attempt to regain her composure.

"That kid has your timing," she said into his shoulder.

Chuck laughed as a little blonde and blue blur streaked into the kitchen.

"Mommy! Daddy! Look what I drawed today!"

A little 4-year old in a blue dress, with blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, rushed to her parents, arms outstretched, demanding to be picked up. Chuck happily obliged.

"How's my girl?"

"Fine," the child replied in a sing-song voice. "You like my drawing?"

Chuck appraised the crayon drawing of a beagle puppy as though it were a Van Gogh. "I love it," he declared.

Having regained her bearings, Sarah looked to the young babysitter standing in the kitchen doorway. "How was she today?"

"Same as usual," the babysitter smiled. "Mostly good, but darned if she doesn't manage to find a little trouble."

"I wonder where she gets that from," Sarah said with a pointed look to Chuck. He gasped in an appropriately mock innocent fashion. Sarah smiled, rolled her eyes. She reached out to take her daughter.

"C'mere, Trouble. Let's go take a bath so daddy can finish dinner."

The child giggled madly as Sarah swung her around so that she could ride piggyback.

-------

It was tough to admit, but Sarah was sometimes jealous of him. He made parenting look so easy. Everything from the way he tied her shoes, brushed her hair, tucked her into bed...

For so long, Sarah had only herself to take care of. For so long, she couldn't count on anyone to take care of her. Which made it so hard sometimes to take care of a child.

But then, at times like this, as Chuck lay in bed with their daughter reading a bedtime story, Sarah realized how silly an emotion jealousy was. Especially when it came to these two. They loved her unconditionally, and she loved them as such.

Chuck finished the story and looked down at his daughter. She had drifted off into Dreamland about 15 pages earlier. Very delicately, he untangled himself from his daughter's embrace and clicked off the table lamp. He then joined Sarah in the doorway.

"Hey you," he smiled.

"Hey you," she smiled back. She then looked to their daughter. "Echo. Most days I still can't believe I agreed to that name."

"Why? It's only fitting seeing how she's the spitting image of you."

Sarah groaned at the thought. "God help her when she reaches puberty."

"God help her?" Chuck questioned incredulously. "God help the rest of the world. With your looks and athletic prowess, combined with my sheer genius, the girl's gonna have the world conquered by the time she's thirty."

"Being mother to the empress of the world? I rather like that idea."

"Yeah, I hear it comes with a great retirement package." The couple shared a warm, lightly teasing smile. "So, still got that itch?" Chuck asked.

With a sly look, Sarah reached down to the drawstring of her robe and released the knot. She pulled the garment open just enough to give Chuck a tantalizing view of the purple silk nightie she wore. A thrill shot through her body at his longing sigh.

"It's worse than ever," she responded. Even after five years of marriage and nearly ten of knowing each other, she still reveled in the fact she had this effect on him.

"Well, I'm sure my fingers can reach the spot."

Sarah bit her bottom lip in a manner she knew Chuck found irresistible. "Take me to bed, Mr. Bartowski."

"Of course, Mrs. Bartowski."

-------

They laid together in the wake of their exertions. Him atop her, still filling her. Sarah tasted his shoulder – the unmistakable flavor that was distinctly Charles Bartowski, mixed with the slight salty taste of sweat – and ran her fingers through his curly locks. At this moment, she never felt more happy and complete in her life.

"Chuck," she panted, "say you'll never leave me."

He trailed a series of light kisses along her collarbone. "You couldn't drag me away."

"Now say you'll always love me."

Chuck stopped his ministrations, turned a curious look to his love. "Sarah, what's wrong?"

Her voice thick with emotion, "I'm just scared that one day I'll wake up from this dream. That you'll remember who you're living with: a woman with so many secrets, some of which if you knew..."

Chuck cupped her cheek lovingly, muttered soothing nonsense sounds. "Knock that crap off," he softly admonished. "I don't care about the woman you were before we met. I only care about the woman I know, the one I married, the one I'm crazy – and dare I say – borderline obsessed about. So chin up, darling. You're gonna be stuck with The Bartowski a while longer."

Laughter bubbled out of her. "The Bartowski? Think pretty high of yourself, do you?"

"Hey, you're the one who claimed to be thinking about me all day. So how about I give you something else to ponder?"

Sarah gasped as she felt Chuck revive inside her.

---------

"Walker, wake your ass up."

"Chuck?" she mumbled sleepily.

John Casey delivered Grunt #9 – exasperation, annoyance, and a healthy degree of disgust.

"Think again, Sleeping Beauty. We're back in LA." He paused a moment, inspecting her face. He indicated to his own, the left corner of his mouth. "Got a little drool there."

Expecting a snappy comeback, Casey was mildly disappointed when she simply said "Thank you" and wiped away the drool.

Sarah sighed. Disappointed as hell to wake up from such a splendid dream. Equally heartbroken to realize that's exactly what it was – a dream. And would always be so.

"C'mon," Casey encouraged. "Get up. We'll go home, grab a power nap, then get back to work."

Sarah watched as Casey grabbed his black duffel, and with Devon and Ellie, exited the plane. She lingered a moment, thinking about his words.

"Right. Home."

Whatever that was.

END PART