Okay, Chuck POV this time around :) Hope you guys like this chapter! There probably won't be another chapter over the weekend as I have a wedding to go to on Saturday. So, enjoy this one ;) Next chapter should be longer (sorry for the short chapters but that is just the way everything is playing out at the moment) because some of you are wanting longer chapters. So, I shall do my utmost best to make the next one longer (which shouldn't be hard).

Wep beta'd this as usual. If you haven't read any of his fics, I strongly suggest you do (they are that awesome ;))

At this time, I had no idea what to feel. Emily would no doubt be asking me a ton of questions as soon as I came out of my room. Why did we get a letter? I didn't think that the CIA sent regret letters. I guess I was wrong. My head was spinning. Reading that letter had been like being stabbed with a hot poker in the heart. Emily hadn't seemed that affected, which I couldn't decide if that relieved me or made me regretful. What hurt the most was that I had never gotten to see her again; she was gone forever. I'd never get any answers.

Little did I know then that this adventure was only beginning...

Chuck had finally been able to make the tears stop. It still killed him to know that her light had been extinguished, that she'd never smile again never laugh again or breath. Even though she'd hurt him like she did, the last thing he wanted was for her to die. He hadn't even wished Bryce would have died. Not once. He sniffed and looked at his clock, it was half past nine. He'd been in his room for two hours.

Shaking his head, he sat up. He had to get something to drink; had to do something to try and ease the pressure in his throat. He slowly came out of his room, hoping to see Emily in bed. He inwardly sighed when he saw she was still up, staring at something that came in the box.

"Hey, Dad." Emily offered him a strained smile. "I found some other things in the box." She held it out towards him and he took the small package. He peered inside it and forced himself to swallow. In the box laid a few photos and a small note. Emily sat down in a barstool and ran her fingers through her hair.

"I didn't read the note. It's addressed to you." Emily stated and Chuck hugged her with one arm, not really having anything to say. He hoped he communicated his gratefulness in the hug. He pulled the photos out first. There were three. One was of Chuck and Sarah just after they'd been married. Sarah had repeatedly told him that this picture was one of her favorites. The next was a picture of the two of them while Sarah was pregnant, both with giant smiles on their faces and both of their hands on her belly. Another favorite. His eyes began to tear up again, at seeing the happiness on their faces. The third was a picture of Chuck and Emily; Chuck, and what Chuck would estimate was a one year old Emily lying in the master bedroom's bed, with him tickling Emily (who's face was covered in a large grin). He handed the photos to Emily and grabbed the note.

"I can't believe she kept these." Emily said, holding the pictures as if they were precious. Chuck didn't answer, in fact he barely heard her through the pounding in his ears as he opened the note. He was half scared to, not knowing what it might contain. I'm sorry. I love you. I'm so sorry. He read the words at least ten times before the emotion behind them hit him. He nodded to himself, putting the note down and taking the photos off the counter where Emily had set them. He put the note in front of her and she read it, understanding that he was giving her permission.

"Maybe she was really sorry." Emily said. Chuck noticed it was in a strange tone, as if she was torn between forgiving her mother and saying "good riddance" at her death. He noticed the neglected pizza box.

"Are you hungry?" Chuck asked, going for the box.

"Yeah,"

"Let's eat."

Chuck wasn't able to sleep. It was eleven and he was usually passed out by now, due to his having to get up early in the morning. He sighed and turned onto his side, facing the still vacant side of the king size bed. That was the wrong move; emptiness and a sudden surge of loneliness swept through him. There was a time in his life he knew exactly what he wanted. A life with Sarah, with kids in the yard, a dog, and cozy house. Now that Sarah was gone he didn't know what to do anymore. He loved Emily, but there was this sense of direction that lacked in him. Sometimes he felt like he couldn't even tell up from down.

He should have listened to Sarah and not purchased this bed. She had told him it was a waste that they'd still end up cuddled together at night and so all the space in the bed was not needed. "People only get these if they don't want to touch the person next to them." she had joked. But he bought it anyways and it had come in handy back when Emily would sleep with them. That didn't last long however as Emily was independent and wanted to sleep in her own bed. Chuck smiled at the memory of Emily pointing at her own bed and making various sounds (that Chuck called baby-elvish) and quickly letting them know she liked her child size mattress better..

Suddenly he hated this bed. He wondered if he should just get a twin or a double or something like that. Maybe if there was less space, he'd feel less alone. He sighed and looked at the clock again, not even beginning to feel drowsy.

Okay, it's midnight and I am lying here thinking about beds. Seriously! I need to get myself together. Sleep, Chuck. Sleep! He pounded the bed with a fist in frustration and rolled out. Screw it. He left the room and flicked on the kitchen light. Opening the fridge, he saw some milk and in a last ditch effort he drank it straight from the carton.

"You're supposed to warm it up first," Chuck jumped and nearly dropped the carton of milk. He smacked his head on the fridge while jerking back to see who had spoken. Alarm filled him. That wasn't Emily. He set the milk down on the counter and turned around to see who had spoken.

"What the hell are you doing in my house?" Chuck hissed, his body stiffening. A man stood right at the bar, smile on his bearded face and dark clothes on. His black hair curled around his face and his bright blue eyes shone in the kitchen light. He sported a vest that held two knives and a gun was holstered on his hip.

"I'm sorry for intruding. But I'm here because of this." He grabbed the regret letter Emily had left on the counter and held it up to make sure Chuck knew what he was talking about. "Where is she?" He asked, his tone turning less polite.

"What?" Chuck exclaimed, his heart pounding. The man before him growled and took out a knife from inside his vest. He pointed it at Chuck.

"I'll only ask one more time," the intruder began. "Where is Sarah Bartowski? Or Sarah Walker as she is still known in the field. I know she has contacted you now where is she?"

Chuck's glanced at the kitchen counters. There was nothing except pots and a pan he could use for self defense. He remembered seeing Sarah use them once, so he knew that they could be useful. "Are you an agent?" Chuck asked, trying to stall for time. Please God don't let Emily come out. Chuck silently prayed.

"Did I say you got to ask questions? Answer me, or there will be consequences." The slightly shorter man replied, a crooked smile crossing his lips and his eyes flicked toward Emily's door.

"Don't you dare hurt her," Chuck snapped. He was helpless! There was no Casey and definitely no Sarah to save him. He was alone; how could he stop an agent (if that was what he was)? He no longer had an Intersect to flash with, and so he was useless to defend himself and Emily. This man before him could probably kill Chuck before he could blink.

"Then answer me!"

"Sarah's dead! Okay, I got that letter today and she's dead! I don't know what you want. Now please, leave us alone. Don't hurt anyone." Chuck looked at him with pleading eyes.

"Bartowski, my surveillance caught Sarah here earlier today. Don't give me the "she's dead" crap. I will hurt you."

"I haven't seen her in ten years, okay? She left me and I haven't seen her since. Whoever you saw must not have been her and I promise I haven't seen anyone!"

Suddenly a knife was flying straight for Chuck, he cringed and closed his eyes, starting to duck down when the knife struck the clothing of his shirt and stuck into the refrigerator. Cold air instantly started seeping onto Chuck's neck. "Stop lying. Perhaps I haven't made myself clear enough." The man snapped and Emily was brought out of her room.

"Dad?!" Emily cried out. Her eyes were a mixture of fear and confusion.

"Let me properly introduce myself. My name is Smith." The intruder said, coming around the bar and approaching Chuck. "And this one," he gestured toward the one who had tied Emily's hands behind her back "is Jim." Smith came just within a range of Chuck that (by Chuck's estimations) was close enough for Chuck to grab a pan and hit him on the head.

Chuck went for the pan and had just felt his hands close around the cold metal when a sharp pain in his stomach made him drop to the ground. Smith's foot came back to the ground and Chuck decided he must have just been kicked. "Bartowski, make this easy on yourself. Where is Agent Walker?"

Chuck's eyes met Emily who gave him a half concerned half "what the hell is going on" look. "I don't know where she is." Chuck said to Smith, keeping his eyes on Emily trying to be comforting. He didn't want Emily to know about all this: the other life he had once that was full of lies and secrets and guns and shootouts and too many things to mention.

Another well placed kick found Chuck again, except this time it connected with his forehead. "Dad!" Emily screamed. "Somebody help!" Jim closed his hand around her mouth and made a pained sound when Emily bit down on his index finger.

"Shut her up!" Smith cried and turned back to Chuck, gripping the hair on the back of Chuck's head. "Do you want me to make this serious? Okay then!" He took out another knife and turned towards Emily and seemed to take aim.

"No!" Chuck yelled. Smith brought his arm back and began to throw it forward.

A gun shot rang out.

Jim dropped, the gun he was holding going off and striking the kitchen light. Darkness flooded the room, the only light coming in from the window.

Smith turned and jumped out the kitchen window before the next shot could hit him. "Dammit!" Chuck heard a woman's voice exclaim and he jumped off the floor to see who it could be. He had thought the voice sounded familiar, that the "dammit" had sounded just like someone else he knew. Nothing on the journey from the floor to his feet could have prepared him for the site before him.

Chuck and Emily's savior came closer and light spilled onto her face, revealing her features.

"Oh my god," Emily breathed and Chuck barely heard her due to the large – now dead – man lying on top of her.

"Sarah?"

Chuck's mind suddenly went blank. You're home?

Yay Sarah's back!! Expect Sarah POV (unless I decide to make you guys wait another chapter, which has a .01% of happening so don't be too worried about it ;) ) As always, reviews are the writer's candy and I like candy, so, review :P If you don't I'll make Sarah's POV wait a chapter *evil laugh*.