A/N: A shorter chapter, to bring Book One: Intersections to a close. Although I am working sans beta on this, I wanted to mention my friend, 2old2write, who kindly agreed to look at this when about all that existed was Book One, and who made me believe it good enough to share. I know him from outside this site, and he is aces. I thank him heartily.

I don't own Chuck.

CHAPTER 5 Pent Up, Penthouse, Pent Down

Neither Sarah nor Casey had told Chuck to stay in the car. But Casey had told him not to touch anything and to stay out of the way. Shaw's penthouse could only be reached by elevator. Sarah had gone ahead of Chuck and Casey to talk to the doorman. After a moment, she waved for them to join her. She thanked the guard as the three of them entered the building.

"What spell did you use? It was so quick and powerful."

"It's called my smile, Chuck."

"That's what I figured. Poor guy had no chance, " he said, himself smiling at her.

"Shut up, you two, " Casey growled as they got on the elevator. Sarah giggled behind her hand.

Casey mouthed some words inaudibly and put his hands toward the bank of buttons, palms outward. The bank was suffused for a moment with a golden glow. The penthouse button continued to glow after everything else stopped. Casey looked at Sarah.

"Like we figured, there's a warding spell on the button."

Sarah nodded. "Well, let's see if we guessed right." Sarah passed her hand over the penthouse button and said 'Evelyn' as she did. The button stopped glowing.

"Was that…?"

"Yeah, his wife's name. Obsession makes you predictable." Casey punched the button and the elevator began to climb. "Stay on the elevator when the doors open. We will have to be careful. There may be more wards or traps upstairs."

When the elevator doors opened, Shaw's apartment lay open before them. It was fancy, Chuck immediately noticed, in a Yes I can afford an interior decorator way. The items visible in the lamplight were individually lovely, expensive, but they belonged together more in terms of their colors than in terms of what they were or what they were for. Casey repeated the procedure he used on the bank of buttons, this time with his palms outward toward the apartment. There was again a brief golden glow, then it went out, except for the Turkish rug that stretched across the floor in front of the elevator. Casey looked at Sarah again. "What do you think?"

Sarah waved her hand over the rug. "Evelyn." The glow subsided.

"Good God, man," Casey griped as he stepped into the apartment. "Let the poor woman rest in peace."

Sarah and Casey headed toward different sections of the apartment and began rummaging around carefully. Chuck walked in looking around slowly, his hands jammed in his pockets, trying to keep himself from idly touching things. He noticed that Shaw had a few books on a shelf, and so Chuck wandered to them. When Chuck got close enough, he could see that there were several self-help books, including a much-handled copy of Dale Carnegie's How To Win Friends and Influence People. There were also a couple of books on investing. The only fiction was Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged. Chuck noticed that there was one thin volume turned backward among the others, so that its spine could not be seen. Chuck slipped it out. How to Cope With Erectile Dysfunction. Chuck blushed. He felt sort of bad for the guy. Dead wife, dead…

As Chuck moved quickly to put the book back in its place, a picture fell out of it and landed face down on the floor. Chuck bent down to pick it up and turned it around.

"Oh, boy!"

Sarah moved quickly to Chuck's side, the side of the hand in which he held the picture. Casey moved to Chuck's other side. He noticed the book Chuck was holding.

"No, Chuck, you can't borrow that book."

Chuck didn't hear the crack. He was staring hard at the picture. Sarah looked at it and then looked at Chuck.

"Sarah," Chuck asked in a tight voice, "why does Shaw have a photograph of Jill?"

Chuck looked more carefully at the picture, not noticing Sarah looking at him as he did so. Chuck was reasonably sure the photograph was recent. Jill looked very much herself, but older. There was something about the way she was standing. She was wearing a pastel floral print dress and had her hair pulled back into a long ponytail. She was at an outdoor party somewhere. She wasn't smiling, but he face held a hint of mischief, a look Chuck knew was typically only shared with someone she was close to. Chuck was suddenly certain from the way she was standing and the look on her face that she was sleeping with the photographer, whoever that was. He waiting for the familiar toothache of jealousy he always felt when he thought of Jill intimate with someone else. It never came. Chuck handed Sarah the picture.

"Well, this is weird. And unexpected. I'm guessing that Shaw took that photograph-and if he did, they were sleeping together when he did."

"How do you know that, Chuck?" Sarah looked more closely at the photograph, scanning it carefully.

"Because I know-I knew-Jill. She has an...intimate look she saves for...certain people. She's not giving that look to the camera. She'd given it to whoever it was who took the photo. Although her look is complicated; yeah, intimate, but also uncomfortable? I don't know. Anyway, since it is a print, and since it is tucked into Shaw's...uh, book, " Chuck waved it so that Sarah could read the cover, "I'm guessing he was the photographer."

Casey reached out a hand toward Sarah, and she handed him the photograph.

"So, who is this Jill?" Casey asked.

"She's Chuck's old girlfriend," Sarah said.

"Let's save the trip down memory lane until later. Put the photo back, Chuck, maybe it's part of Shaw's...therapy." Casey pointed at the book, still in Chuck's hand.

Chuck tucked the picture back into the book and replaced the book spine-in on the shelf.

Casey went off to finish the search, but Sarah put her hand on Chuck's shoulder.

"Ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, I am. You know, I never understood what went wrong with us at Stanford. I mean, maybe she left because of my expulsion, but I never felt like that was it. Something else explains it, or someone else. Anyway, I used to spend...a lot of time...trying to figure it out. The mystery of it all made me more hurt and angrier. But I can honestly say that now, seeing that picture, I just don't care about it anymore. It's a sad part of my life that is over. And it is over because of you, Sarah. Goodbye, Jill, good riddance."

Sarah stared into his eyes hard for a moment, and then she smiled broadly.

"I'm really glad, Chuck. And thanks."

"For what?"

"For choosing us-our future-over your past." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. He was about to deepen the kiss, but she pushed him away with a sigh. "Later, we don't have much more time and we need to finish before Shaw comes back."

Sarah had no more than said the words when her phone buzzed.

"What? When? Ok, we are on the move. Chuck, Casey, Shaw left the meet early. He suspects something. That was Beckmann. We need to go."

Sarah and Casey moved efficiently through the penthouse, making sure everything was as it had been. Chuck started toward the elevator then noticed a small glass case on the mantle over Shaw's fireplace. In it were a collection of Zippo lighters. But none looked collectible. All were worn and battered, some scorched here and there. Chuck shrugged to himself and was about to join Sarah and Casey in the elevator when one of the lighters struck him. It had a strange design carved into it. As he looked closer at it, Chuck felt wobbly and then felt his eyes rolling in his head. When he looked back at the lighter, it seemed somehow to be surrounded by a blackish light. Chuck could feel the malevolence of the thing. He steadied himself against the mantle. After a minute, he was able to walk. He joined Sarah and Casey in the elevator, and Casey punched the button for the first floor.

"No need to run into Shaw in the lobby. We get out on the first floor and take the stairs to an exit. What happened in there, Bartowski?"

Sarah had her arm around Chuck and was looking at him with concern. "Did you see something, something else?"

"Yeah, I did. But I will tell you once we are back in the car."

Beckmann was actually, physically, present in the cave when they returned. They told her what they had found, dwelling for a long time on the lighter. Beckmann pushed Chuck for a better description of the design cut into the lighter. Beckmann and Casey took the news that Chuck could see uncreated lights in stride, even though disappointment very briefly showed itself on Casey's face.

"I know that design," Beckmann said. "It is an ancient emblem of the Belgian's house. Few would ever recognize it. The lighter, along with the photograph, strongly suggest that Shaw is connected to the Belgian. It would make sense, the Belgian preys on the broken."

"But what about the black glow?" Chuck asked.

"Right. Yes. Well that, believe it or not, is the worst news, for Shaw, at least. The lighter is some kind of artifact or it contains one, some old evil. If Shaw in his state has been handling that lighter or just been often near it, his state of mind and the artifact will have created a feedback loop from hell. I fear Shaw may be both far worse off and far more brittle than we expected." She looked at each of them before continuing. "For now, I will see that tabs are kept on Shaw, but we will not push him, yet. We need to know more. We still need to know whether the Belgian and Shaw are connected to The One Ring. That's our immediate task. We need to find a way to answer that question, and we need to know what The One Ring's plans really are."

Team Bartowski was up and running. Since the Seers were still baffled by Chuck and his power, Beckmann had decided that the best way to find out what Chuck could do was to put him in situations that would activate his power. Such situations had not been hard to come by, but it turned out that Chuck's powers were hard to predict and not under Chuck's full control. Most of what he had done was on the order of his seeing of the black glow of Shaw's lighter. Even so, the two months the team had been operating had seen them put a dent in The One Ring.

They now knew that the group was recruiting and mobilizing dark Casters, and placing them in Houses. This had been going on, it turned out, for a long time, and so there was reason to believe that many of these dark Casters were now well-entrenched in the Houses and would be hard to identify and hard to root out. Using information about newly sponsored Casters in various Houses how turned up likely recent plants of The One Ring, and Team Bartowski had captured three of them. Casey's interrogation of them produced new leads, one particularly promising. There was rumored to be a list of The One Ring's members, kept by a high-ranking member of the group and used by that member as leverage. Casey's interrogation did not produce a name, but it had produced information about contacts the person made. Beckmann and Graham were following up on that and the Team was hopeful that they might soon be able to do very serious damage to the group.

Sarah's biggest problem at the moment was not The One Ring. It was Eleanor Bartowski.

Sarah had spent quite a bit of time with Ellie. Sarah knew Ellie liked her. That was good. Ellie also worried that something about her brother and Sarah did not make sense. That was bad. It was not because (as Chuck still did from time to time, although he was doing better) Ellie thought Sarah was out of Chuck's league. If Ellie was tempted by any such thought, it went the other way. No, Sarah could tell that it was her silences and hesitancies bothered Ellie.

Ellie might have more willing to ignore them if not for the way things between Chuck and Sarah started. Ellie had been furious with Chuck and, though she tried to hide it, furious with Sarah too. How they could have just disappeared like that! Sarah knew that Ellie was not willing to believe that Chuck was lying or that Sarah was. She also knew Ellie just couldn't quite credit the story about Uncle John. Ellie had never completely gotten over her anger about that.

But if Sarah was being honest (and she was trying hard to be these days, with herself and with everyone) she knew that the root of the problem was that Ellie was afraid for Chuck.

Ellie knew her brother. Sarah could see when they were introduced that Ellie immediately knew how far gone her brother was. Ellie did not need a spell to know that Sarah was everywhere in Chuck. She knew he was in love. Sarah also knew that Ellie could not tell how far gone Sarah was, whether she was in love with Chuck or not.

Sarah caught Ellie looking at her, usually when she was looking at Chuck. She knew Ellie was watching, trying to figure out what was happening between them, how Sarah felt about Chuck. A couple of times Ellie had caught Sarah looking at Chuck with her guard down, her heart in her eyes. And Ellie had obviously been overjoyed by what she saw. But other times she caught Sarah looking at Chuck as his protector, counting exits, marking people in the crowd or in the room, projecting threats. And those times worried Ellie. She did not know what to make of them.

This morning at Lou's, Ellie stopped by to invite Sarah over for dinner. Chuck was supposed to have dinner with Morgan and spend some time at the arcade. Casey was slated to watch over Chuck during that outing. So, Sarah was free. She accepted Ellie's invitation with an inward groan. She liked Ellie, liked her a lot. She had high hopes for their friendship. She wanted her to be her sister, and not just in the in-law sense. But Ellie was too smart to fool about important things. This would be a long dinner.

Sarah waited at the door, a chocolate souffle in her hands, still warm. Ellie answered the knock.

"Hey, Sarah, don't you look lovely! What's this?"

"I made dessert. I hope you like it."

Ellie peeked at it, her face pleased. "It's one of my favorites. Devon's too. He'll be here for a while before he starts his shift at the hospital. I hope that's ok."

"Sure, I'm always glad to see Devon."

They chatted about work and the weather as they put the food on the table. Devon joined them in his scrubs. They sat down. As they ate their salad, silence fell on the table and grew louder until all of them were paying attention to it. Sarah noticed Devon encouraging Ellie to say something by gesturing toward Sarah slightly with his head and widening his eyes. Elli seemed reluctant.

"So, Sarah," Devon finally said, "you and the Chuckster, eh?"

"Uh, yes, Devon, me and Chuck. What about us?" Sarah waited. Neither said anything. "So did you two ask me here to find out what my intentions are toward Chuck?" Sarah kept her tone light.

"Sarah, I know this is awkward," Ellie offered, "but Chuck is not just my brother. He is, in a way, my son. I'm tightly bound to him; I adore him. Sometimes he drives me crazy, but I think he's aces, Sarah, just aces. He's special. And you are too. Devon and I are both so glad you are in Chuck's life. We just aren't sure how you are in it. You guys say you are dating. He spends the night at your place sometimes. But…"

"But what, Ellie? What's on your mind?"

Devon picked up the thread of the conversation. "Sarah, you two seemed joined at the hip. But I am a doctor. I know, as a matter of fact, that's not where you are supposed to be joined. Are you two really dating? Because, unless Ellie and I are seriously wrong about our boy, even though he spends the night, the two of you are not sleeping together. Let's just say that Chuck is showering a couple of times a day at least and that we still have lots of hot water."

Sarah stared at her salad. The silence returned.

"I understand why you are asking. I also appreciate that you are finding the asking difficult because this is pretty weird, you have to admit…" Both Ellie and Devon nodded. "But I want you to know that Chuck and I are a real couple - although I admit we are not a normal couple. We aren't pretending to be a couple or pretending to date. I have...very deep feelings...for Chuck. But we are taking it slow. I needed us to do that. That's not because I do not want to be joined to him. God, do I want to!"

Sarah blushed. Ellie and Devon both smiled widely at that.

"But I have had issues with trust in the past, with commitment, and I have been working on those, and Chuck has been so much help. Your brother is good, brilliant even, at being a friend, Ellie; he knows how to do that. And he is just as good at being a boyfriend. I want it all, the whole future, with Chuck. But I am learning how to want that, how to trust myself to be his girlfriend and more. Let me be blunt: I want to sleep with Chuck. But I know what that will mean to him, and I am not going to do it until I feel things are right with me. I've run from serious emotions in the past, avoided having them or dealing with them. I'm trying to make sure that doesn't happen because of what I feel for Chuck. I've not been a stranger to cold showers lately myself."

Sarah stopped, feeling exhausted suddenly. When she looked up, she could see what she had been hoping for from them all along: acceptance and confidence. She smiled.

"Sarah, I'm here for you. Come talk to me anytime." Ellie reached across the table and left her hand there, palm up. Sarah reached and took it. She knew then that she was becoming part of a real family. Maybe not a normal family, but a real one.

"Honey, how about that pot roast? I've got to go soon. And you know how much I love your pot roast. It's awesome."

The next day, Sarah and Chuck had a date. Not a mission for Beckmann, not a bite to eat on a lunch break, not a movie night with Ellie and Devon, or a night of Morgan. No, a real no-one-but-Sarah-and-Chuck date. They decided that they would try something new, an Italian place that Lou had told them about. It was small and cozy. Sarah had talked Chuck into promising to go dancing afterward. It hadn't hurt that she had reminded him of their dance on their first date, both by describing it verbally and by re-enacting a portion of her part of it physically before they left her apartment. Chuck had gone glassy-eyed. When Sarah teased him about it, he pointed out that he was re-enacting his part of their dance.

The meal had been terrific. Wonderful dishes and good wine. They lingered for a little while over coffee, enjoying the time together without external pressures.

"Have you thought any more about the Ouija Board claiming that my power is love, Sarah? What does that mean? I've been thinking about it. I mean I know that the most impressive displays of my power have come when I have been defending what I love most, " Sarah closed her eyes when he said this, feeling her heart skip a beat, "but it seems like a lot of magical-mythical machinery to be in motion just to allow me to protect people I love. I mean, I am not complaining that I can do that, not a bit, but it seems like there must be something more to it."

"I believe that too, Chuck. But I don't know what it could be. We'll figure it out. Hang in there. I told Casey like you wanted me to. But he just grunted, twice. Nothing more."

They sat for a few minutes, finishing their coffee. Then Sarah forced herself to speak.

"I'm glad you brought the topic up, Chuck."

"My powers?"

"No, well, yes, well, love."

"Oh." Chuck's eyes became slightly guarded, slightly worried. Since he had told her he loved her at the ranch house, he'd mostly refrained from further declarations. She knew he didn't want to pressure her, force her (and him) to live through the chagrined silence that the declaration provoked in her. She normally responded non-verbally, and she trusted that Chuck knew what she was trying to say, wanted to say, but the non-verbal response was not fully satisfying to her either. She hated that she had used the word with Graham before she had used it with Chuck. She had been forced to do it with Graham. It was, she knew, the only way to force Graham to understand where she stood. But, since then, it felt like she was keeping a secret from Chuck, a good one, the best possible one, and only because she feared the word. Why could a word be so hard to say, even when you knew you meant it?

In her past, that word had been the word she used for the mother she had lost, the father who loved her by twisting her understanding of herself and others. She had used it for Bryce too, although the thought of that particularly bothered her. A girl is supposed to love her mom and dad. But Bryce? Now that she knew Chuck, she knew that she had never loved Bryce, and she was mortified to know that she thought she had. How had she been so confused? But she knew the answer. Bryce had been a sop to her desperate loneliness.

Her loneliness had periodically gotten so bad in those days that she could not sleep, could hardly breathe. Each exhalation was like a surrender to the end. At those moments, she began to feel that she was vanishing, that she was no one. All the lies that had been her life lashed at her. She could find nothing to believe in, nothing to believe. Everything seemed false, everything hopeless. She had spent so much time hiding her feelings that she was no longer sure she had any or could share them naturally with anyone else if she did.

Her whole body felt inexpressive, impassive, as if she could no longer communicate with or communicate anything to others. She would stare at her own unreadable face in the bathroom mirror for hours, wondering who this inscrutable woman was, if she was even a woman or only a warm bit of waxwork. She had nightmares of being in horrible pain but being unable to tell anyone else, unable even to writhe in agony. There was just the horrible pain consuming her behind her still unreadable expression. She was screaming in agony behind that neutral expression, but no one could hear and no one could tell.

She had found Bryce around this time. He was easy to look at, doing the same work as she was, and completely self-assured, unplagued by doubts. He took a liking to her, to the looks of her. She had been able to tell when the first met that he was making bets with himself about how long it would take him to see her naked.

It hadn't taken long, really. She'd been so afraid of her dark room, her empty bed, her bathroom mirror, that she allowed him into all three soon after they began dating. For a while, sleeping with him kept the loneliness at bay. She'd never really had a regular lover before, and it made it more exciting that she and Bryce were also regularly partners by day. She had wanted to get to know him and she had hoped she would find a way to let him get to know her. But although he got to know her body, he never tried to get to know her. He was satisfied with her hair, her lips, her skin, but not especially, really not at all, because they were hers.

He asked a few perfunctory personal questions early on, like after the first time they slept together. She had not been able to answer them, although she tried to get him to understand that she might do so in time. But he had seemed relieved. He clearly took her secrecy to be permission for his own. He told her very little. He called her 'Walker' in private, and referred to them, on the rare occasions when he did, as 'Larkin and Walker'. Like a drug store or something. It was an affair between two people on a last-name basis with one another. How could she have thought that was love?

When she found out Bryce was still sleeping with his former partner, and with other women as often as he could, she had been enraged. She meant no more than any of them, perhaps less. He had been using her in the bedroom. And, it turned out, using her in their work. She was more powerful than he was, but she found out that he had been good at recounting their missions in such a way that her power or success was obscured and his highlighted.

Because of her, Bryce had been able to get Graham to elevate him to head of security for the House. Sarah had no interest in the job; it was too staid, too punch-the-clock. But once he had the job, Bryce approached Sarah to end their relationship. She realized that not only had Bryce been using her, but the people in the circle of his friends she had gotten to know and taken to be her friends too, all knew what Larkin was doing. None of them saw fit to warn her. None apologized to her after the fact. They all just disappeared. Soon she was as lonely as she had been before, but now with a betrayal to intensify that feeling. It had taken her a long time to find her way past that pain, to find a way to face her empty apartment and an empty bed with any equanimity. She went back to staring into the mirror.

All of that loneliness, all of that feeling of being trapped in an impassive body behind an unreadable face, that mirror: Chuck smashed it the first time he looked at her. At her. She knew he thought she was beautiful. That she was beautiful. Not: that she was beautiful. Chuck did not look past her at her beauty. He saw her beauty in seeing her. How different his eyes than Bryce's! Chuck's gaze was upbuilding; Bryce's gaze ultimately demoralizing.

She had been thinking about all this for the last several days, and she wanted to share at least the result of it with Chuck.

"Don't be worried, Chuck. This isn't anything bad, not anything bad at all. I guess you know I had a talk with Ellie and Devon at dinner the other night?"

"Well, I know you had a talk, but I don't really know what about. All I know is that Ellie told me she was hoping the two of you would be close now. And that she keeps grinning at me."

"They wanted to know if we were really dating. They figured out that your nights at my place were not, you know, nights at my place. They thought that we might only be pretending to be a couple."

"Really? That's crazy. You and I could never pretend to be a couple! We either would be one or we wouldn't, you know."

"Yes, I know. But I also understand what confuses them. When I am with you, especially in public, I am not just your girlfriend, I am your protector. So I am scanning the room, looking at other people, locating exits. But to them that must look like me literally looking for a way out, a way to escape from you. It doesn't help that I am so often silent. That I am not good at saying how I feel. Anyway, I told them how much I want to sleep with you, and I told them why we have been waiting. They were very kind. They weren't trying to push us into bed together, they just wanted to know where we stood. They were both worried that I would hurt you. I don't think they are worried anymore. And this is what I wanted to tell you, Chuck, neither am I. I am ready. Whenever you are ready, Chuck, I think we should make love."

Chuck nearly choked on the last of his coffee.

"I thought about just attacking you when you picked me up," Sarah said, smiling at him in all-but-open arousal, "but then I thought that maybe just a little more anticipation wouldn't hurt since we have both gotten pretty good at the prolonged anticipation thing."

Chuck had turned a deep red. His ears, his neck, everything was flushed. She could feel heat and desire emanating from him, and could feel herself respond to it. Chuck reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He put down enough money to cover both the bill and the tip. He put out his hand and leaned over toward her.

"Now, after telling me that, you are going to make me go dancing, aren't you?" Chuck whispered the question in her ear as she took his hand and stood up.

She looked at him with wide-eyed innocence. "Why? Is that bad?"

"No, no, it's not bad. But you have to know what I will be imagining while we dance."

"Oh, I will know," she said, her innocent look vanishing as she slowly and obviously licked her lips, "I will know because I will be imagining exactly the same thing."

Chuck's only response was a groan deep in the back of his throat.

Chuck woke as the sunlight began to filter brightly through the sheers on Sarah's apartment window. He felt like Mr. Fantastic, all rubbery and stretched and, well, fantastic.

After dancing, if what he and Sarah had done was rightly called dancing, they had barely made it from his car to the elevator, barely made it from the elevator to her door, and they didn't really quite make it through her door before things began to happen. Luckily, no one was in the hallway. Once through her door they had crashed onto the bed.

The first time was manic, their impetuous need for each other overtopping any attempt to cultivate or prolong their pleasure, to discover the details of one another. They just needed to be together, to be as close to each other as was physically possible. The fact of it, Chuck inside her, her arms and legs wrapped tightly around his body, meant so much that nothing else mattered.

Later, when it happened the second and then the third time, they were able to be more patient, to delight in one another, to start to learn how to be together. At one point, Chuck rolled over and turned on the light. Sarah had the sheet around her, but Chuck tugged it softly, gently off her. He looked at her with wonder and desire, memorizing her, her hair loose and wild, her body still pink from their lovemaking. She looked at him in return, the blue of her eyes a flame. Then he covered her again and turned off the light. He stretched out under the sheet beside her, his body still radiating heat, and she rolled over and draped herself around him. He slowly ran his finger up and down her back. She lifted her head and pushed herself up until her mouth was beside his ear.

"I love you, Chuck."

End of Book One

Music for the Intermission: Billy Bragg, "She's Got a New Spell", readily available for your listening pleasure on many music platforms. It's the song in my head as I work on this thing!