A/N: To lessen the confusion, i've put up a timeline on my profile. Please check it out!

If you are still confused, consider reading my earlier works, both Chuck vs the missing years and long days and nights for further clarification.

Chapter 4: Chuck vs the departure

The alleyway is dark and all Chuck can think is how perfect the setup would be for an opening scene on CSI. It's past midnight and the tension in the cool night air is thick enough for him to chew on. He can think of a million things more pleasant than this—looking at flower arrangements for his sister's wedding, watching Casey prune his bonsai tree, picking lint pills off his fleece sweater—but then he steals a glance at the blond-haired woman beside him and suddenly this is the only thing he wants to do.

"Sarah?" he asks, tailing behind her.

She hasn't said a word since they left the party and he knows that her fingers are just itching for the gun tucked into her waistband.

"What?" she whispers, barely glancing at him.

"I'm sorry."

Her face flits with annoyance. "It's not your fault."

"It's not yours either." Chuck sighs. He already knows how this will end. By tomorrow she will have built up her walls again and he will have to redouble his efforts to break them down. He doesn't know if he can this time; there's a limit to his charm and he thinks as of late that he's hit his threshold.

"You're not a spy, Chuck, you're not trained to be objective," she informs, still refusing to look at him. When Chuck tries to take her hand, she moves decisively away until they are walking on opposite sides of the narrow alleyway. "We had a close call today. It can't happen again."

Chuck doesn't know what part of 'it' she means. The hand-holding, the kisses—or does she mean everything?

"I slipped up and you tried to cover for me. You did your job."

"Yeah, losing our shot at the intel in the process," she reminds bitterly. "Chuck, I don't want to talk about this anymore, okay? Let's just get to the car and go home."

Chuck sighs again. "Why? You think Casey doesn't know?" The wires are turned off, the earpiece is in his jacket-pocket, but Sarah still bristles at the instigation.

"You can't always clam up and pin it on Casey or your job, Sarah," he warns. He tries to get her to look at him but she resists, turning her head stubbornly the other way.

"I told you already, it's—"

"Complicated," he mimed. "Yeah, I get that. Your job's complicated, you're complicated. I get that. But..." Chuck didn't know how else to say it so he just does and hopes she can take the bluntness of it all. "You have to give me something to go on here. You have to let me in."

Sarah's eyes widen and she looks as if he's just asked her to jump into a pit full of venomous snakes. Not even. The pit of snakes was probably a better alternative than what he's asking for.

"I already told you how I feel about you," she says. "Why can't we just leave it as is?"

Chuck just stares at her. Her voice is so aloof, so indifferent, that it's hard to convince himself that she doesn't mean it.

"Is that enough for you?" he asks, trying to keep the hurt from reaching the surface. He's missed the point though; it's not a question he should be asking her. She may be satisfied with what they had but were a few stolen moments every now and then enough for him? For the rest of his life?

She looks away and her brows knot together with frustration. "Chuck..."she pleads.

"Fine." He gives up, and steps away, retreating to his side of the path.

Sarah looks as if she's about to pull him back but she stops at the last second and keeps to her side. Her face is a mixed mask of emotions, he knows she's relieved to have the subject dropped but there's the nagging omniscience that it will just come up another day.

They begin to walk towards the van again and Chuck knows Casey will make a snide remark about why they took so long to get back. If only Casey knew the half of it he would realize how overactive his imagination was.

Chuck turns to her one last time. He trusts Agent Walker with his life, but Sarah? Even though she had already told him the words he'd waited his whole life to hear, he just couldn't take them to heart.

"Why do I feel like you're just going to disappear from my life when all this is over?"

Chuck doesn't realize how astute her hearing is until she snaps her head and stares at him, her mouth parting in surprise.

"Chuck—"

She means to say more but there's a noise behind them.

They immediately turn their heads in search of the source but it's not necessary, not really. Sure it might have been a stray rummaging through trash or an especially strong breeze knocking over a garbage bin, but not in their line of work.

Sarah has her gun out before Chuck can even speak her name.

"Get to the van," she says. Her voice is like ice pressed against his ears.

"Sarah—"

"Do it, Chuck!" she orders. Maybe if their night had panned out differently she wouldn't feel so determined to prove herself. Maybe if Chuck hadn't been such a screw-up none of this would have happened.

"Chuck!" her voice is so sharp it's nothing short of an ultimatum. If he ever wants to speak to her again he has to do exactly as she says.

Going against every instinct, he turns and begins to run down the alleyway towards the van and Casey. He speaks into his watch and prays help will be on the way. He does everything like he's supposed to but it all feels so wrong.

Chuck stops in mid-stride, nearly falling over from the momentum. He turns and stares at her back, watching her face the danger alone.

His gut sinks with dread as he turns and runs towards her. He's never been brave, not really, not unless he has to, and at this moment he really has to. Because as he runs he thinks about what Sarah will do if something goes wrong, how angry she will be when she finds out he's disobeyed a direct order.

But then he thinks about what he will do if something—anything—happens to her, knowing he had some way of preventing it.

He gulps. There's no way to win.

Sarah hears his footsteps approaching but it's mixed with the steps of the oncoming gunmen. She makes the split-decision, the wrong decision, to turn her head and look over her shoulder.

Everything happens too fast.

Her features screw together with frustration as she sees him but only for a second, because by the next second Chuck's collided into her, and in the one following he's on the ground, shielding her with the weight of his body.

Their eyes meet and he feels her freeze up underneath him. He coughs her name weakly, feeling like the air has been knocked out of him, and apologizes because it's all he can think of.

Dread seeps from every pore as he tries to hold onto her but she takes control and rolls out from under him, gun in hand.

Chuck stares in horror, as he sees her shirt wet and glistening in the moonlight. The stain is dark and it's growing, dripping...

He calls her name but she doesn't respond. She fires her gun at their assailants but he doesn't even hear the sound. All he hears is his own winded breath, rattling inside his chest.

He calls her name again and she finally looks down at him. Her eyes are like diamonds in the darkness, so bright it hurts to stare into them.

She leans down close to him, her breaths a welcome warmth to the chill that's chewing through his bones.

It starts to rain even though it's a clear night; warm, salty droplets.

He doesn't hear her, and he doesn't understand why. All he knows is that she's fading away. His worst fear comes to life.

He regrets everything he's said. They can go as slow as she wants. Whatever she can give him he'll take. He'll never be so greedy again.

He tries to tell her but it's not enough. In the end, he still loses her to the creeping darkness.

Chuck doesn't like the unknown. That's Sarah's thing; driving a little too fast on the freeway, asking him to take a holiday at an hour's notice, picking a fight with someone twice her size; because Sarah doesn't worry about the repercussions until they happen. And even when they happen, she always seems to know what to do, like she has a contingency plan for everything.

Chuck likes hard-facts, numbers and formulas, because they all mean something, and they always mean the same thing. It's safe. Like putting together a puzzle or solving a Sudoku. He already knows the outcome; it's just the figuring out that takes time.

That's why he doesn't understand how this could happen. One moment everything's fine; Sarah's all life and laughter and the next...

God. He doesn't think he can even put it in words because if he does, it might be enough to make it true.

"Sir?" Someone grabs his shirt and pushes him back, away...away from her. Chuck doesn't hear what the doctor says, he just sees her fading...fading away.

He wants to scream, to run, to wake up and realize that this was only a nightmare and nothing more.

"Sir? Did you hear me?"

Chuck gulps and stares at the doctor.

"I'm sorry," he utters. Every word is a struggle, even his tongue is paralyzed with dread. "I don't understand. Please, please just help her!"

Chuck doesn't know what to do. He just wants to know the outcome. Sarah's the one with the contingency plans.

"We're going to do everything we can, Mr. Bartowski." Chuck tries to push past him, to get back to her, but the door's closed and the curtains are drawn.

He wants to hold her hand, but it's cold metal he's holding instead.

"Please just sign the form."

Chuck stares down at the clipboard, the endless army of square boxes and small type an assault on his eyes. He doesn't even know what's he's agreeing to and he doesn't care so long as they can make all this better. He wants them to take a big eraser to this and just make it all go away, like it never happened.

"Please..." he begs.

Please.

Chuck feels the dread before he's even awake. It tears at his heart, and no amount of morphine will ease the pain.

He knows what this means. What will happen next.

He's known since he saw the gunman take aim. Since the impact, the bullet and the fall, and the sight of her in tears. Since he closed his eyes for what he thought might be the last time.

No matter what he does, it still ends the same way.

Chuck knows it's time to face the consequences, but he just can't bear to. He doesn't want to say goodbye.

His eyelids flicker with indecision, but then he hears her voice. It's only his name but it carries a thousand other meanings and even the one word is enough to break his heart.

"Chuck?"

Warily he opens his eyes, like a fugitive peeking through the blinds. He's pulled from the darkness by the voice of an angel.

"Chuck?"

He hears her rise out of her chair, but it's not until she's hovering over him that he knows. Really knows.

She smiles down at him but her eyes are flooded with tears. "You're going to be okay," she said, squeezing his shoulder ever so gently. "Everything's going to be okay."

But he knows better.

"I'm sorry," he rasps. He feels choked back by his own anguish. "Please..."

She shushes him and shakes her head. "It's going to be okay," she soothes, but there is nothing reassuring about her voice.

He knows. He's known from the second he took that bullet; that saving her meant losing her.

"Please," he begs one last time.

She shakes her head. Chuck tries to hold her hand, to keep her from leaving, but he's the one who goes first. He falls back into the dark abyss and this time there's no one to pull him out.


When Chuck opens his eyes, he sees it's finally morning. A relief that. He feels as if he's just clawed his way back from the pits of a harrowing nightmare, and every part of his being wants to collapse in exhaustion and relief. He'd been so close...so close he doesn't even want to think what could have been.

He rubs his weary eyes and rises out of the stiff metal seat to check on her.

Like the calm after a storm, everything had fallen into a lull and it was just the two of them in the hospital room. Finally, some semblance of normalcy.

He walks to her bedside and all it takes is one glance to trigger the threat of tears.

She's finally asleep; her face a perfect picture of calm but the memory of the night before is still fresh in the back of his mind. He doesn't know how she does it; this is the first time their roles have ever reversed and he hopes it's the last.

He brushes her hair gently, combing his fingers through the tangles of long, blond silk. Her form is as still as death, and she's so pale he fears for the worst but her breaths are as even as the rhythmic blip on the heart monitor.

It's distracting but it sets the pace, because without it, he can't be reassured of the doctor's words. Until she opens her eyes again, his every breath catches in his throat.

She's seen worse, he reminds himself. But he hasn't. He has no idea.

He tucks the blanket in around her and kisses her on the forehead. She doesn't stir.

It's only been a few hours. He can afford to wait a few more.

Chuck sits back in his chair and keeps watch until he can no longer resist the lull of dreamless sleep.

Chuck knows it's all over when he opens his eyes. Ellie stirs from her seat at the foot of his bed and when she sees him, tears of relief begin to pour down her ashen cheeks.

"Oh thank God!" She drops her novel and rushes to his side. "Oh thank God!"

But Chuck doesn't want to thank God. He doesn't want to thank anyone. He looks at her silently, the question too painful to speak aloud.

He doesn't ask because he already knows.

He knows she's long gone.

.

Casey underestimates him as he is apt to do. Chuck doesn't need to hear the reasons, he understands. She was supposed to protect him and he was supposed to follow orders. He was supposed to let her take the hit.

Chuck doesn't even ask if she made the request or if the powers that be had ordered it. It wouldn't change things.

There is only one question he wants to ask but it's not a question Casey can answer. It's not something either of them knows.

Chuck resigns himself to the facts and the facts were simple: Sarah Walker was gone. No note, no nothing. Just gone.


Sunlight streams through the blinds, directing their rays straight for Chuck's eyes. He winces and holds out his hand, trying to shield his sight before he goes completely blind.

A laugh shatters the somber mood in the room. "About time. Welcome back."

Chuck's so startled to hear her voice he nearly falls out of his chair. "Sarah..." He rushes to her bedside, scarcely able to believe his eyes. She's nothing like the woman lying in it hours ago.

"Sarah!" he exclaims. The sight of her is enough to bring tears to his eyes. She's an unlikely image of beauty; her hair lies flat and mussed and the dark circles under her eyes betray her exhaustion. But when she smiles, it's the smile of an angel.

"I was wondering when you would wake up," she teases.

She looks like another person altogether from the one last night. When he searches her eyes, they hold no trace of pain or suffering. They are brilliant blue, and as calm as a lazy summer on the lake.

"Why didn't you wake me?" he asked. "I was waiting for you."

She scoffs. "As if I could," she said. She reaches for his hair and runs her fingers through, tugging at his curls. "It's about time. We were getting impatient."

When Chuck doesn't immediately respond, Sarah wrinkles her brows. "You haven't forgotten have you?" she asks, shifting the weight in her arms. She peels back the blanket and raises the infant for him to see.

Chuck's rendered speechless. "No," he whispers, forgetting his train of thought. "Of course not."

Catching his awestruck expression, she laughs. "What's the matter, Chuck?" she whispers, taking his hand. She hands over the swaddled bundle, and Chuck's so afraid of dropping her he doesn't even want to take another breath. He freezes up completely, and he thinks it's better that way.

"Chuck, what's wrong?" Sarah asks, giving him a strange look. "Are you going to be okay?"

Chuck stares down at the infant in his arms. His baby. His little girl. It's such a strange feeling. For nine months he's teased Sarah about this first meeting, reminding her over and over of how she'd reacted when she held their nephew, William, for the first time. And yet he's the one who's stumbling now, shell-shocked and incapable of acting like a normal human being.

"Do you want me to take her back?"

Chuck nods eagerly. "Could you?"

Sarah retrieves the baby from his arms, and despite being a mother for all of six hours, she's a natural. Chuck watches in awe. There's really nothing she couldn't do.

"Chuck?" she whispers, and looks at him expectantly. His eyes carry a sense of bewilderment. There's no congruence between yesterday and today; this still all feels like a dream.

"Thank you," he breaths, and captures her lips in a long, deep kiss.

When they break away, she laughs loud enough to rouse the infant in her arms. "Is that all the thanks I get for having your baby?" she teases. Sarah kisses the newborn on the top of her head, unwittingly pushing back her hat to reveal a shock of dark brown hair. Chuck knows Sarah's especially pleased about the hair.

"No, not that." He takes her hand, and holds it with meaning.

Sarah sighs, momentarily diverting her attention. "Well I wasn't going to leave you to raise her on your own," she admonishes. "God knows you'll never be able to say no to her."

Chuck can't bear to smile though. He had never been so frightened his whole life.

"Chuck..." she says, her tone softening. "Honey, I would never leave you."

He finds it difficult to swallow all of a sudden. Of course she wouldn't. Not if she could help it.

"Those better be tears of joy," she warns. "I don't see what you have to cry about, I was the one doing all the hard work."

Chuck hastily wipes his eyes. "Thank you." He knows she doesn't want to hear any more of it so he just holds her and hopes she understands.

"Thank you." He knows there are other things he could say, he has a degree from Stanford for crying out loud, but when he looks into his daughter's eyes for the very first time, his already limited vocabulary diminishes and he doesn't know how else to express himself. "Thank you."

Sarah's eyes are bright with daring when she stares up at him. "For what?"

There is only one right answer.

He smiles. "For having my baby."

A/N: i made the first half ambiguous mainly because i didn't originally intend on putting up a timeline. it was supposed to make you do a little guesswork while you read, trying to figure out what part of the timeline it fit under, but then i did the work for you. blah.

as opposed to previous oneshots, this piece didn't have a full resolution because it's only part 1 of 3; i just couldn't finish the rest in time. I'm off on holidays; when i get back there will be a follow-up called chuck vs the return. =)

I'm off for some RR but some RR from you guys would be nice too.