A/N: Another long delay I know, but it's been a hectic week. Thanks to all the people who have left reviews so far (If you've left more than one, then add a thank you for each one). Thanks to verkisto for the beta.

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"Do I really have to learn how to shoot?" whined Chuck. "I did perfectly well without having the faintest idea when I was just an asset."

Sarah could see that it was tearing Chuck up that he was, essentially, going to be learning how to kill someone more efficiently, but he couldn't pass the training without learning how to handle a weapon effectively.

"Chuck, if you can shoot accurately, it'll be safer for all of us," she said with absolute conviction.

"Not for the guy I shoot," grumbled Chuck.

"Even for him," said Sarah, willing Chuck to understand. "This way, you can be accurate, and if you aim for the arm, you can be sure you'll hit the arm rather than your aim being off and hitting him in the chest."

Chuck's eyes lit up in understanding. Sarah's logic, no matter how roundabout, actually made some sense. If he knew where the bullet would end up, it would be safer for everyone concerned, and he couldn't forgive himself if an incident like the Embassy happened again and this time endangered Sarah, instead of helping her by pure dumb luck. Luck had to run out sometime, skill stayed with you if you kept working at it.

"Are you sure that's what this is all about," Chuck teased. "Or do you just want someone to be able to keep up with you once in a while?"

"The day someone keeps up with me is the day I retire," responded Sarah with a laugh.

"So, by that logic, I should never be able to sneak up on you?" asked Chuck.

"Nope, not now, not ever," said Sarah, folding her arms as though she were a petulant child.

"I sense a wager..." began Chuck teasingly.

"I'm listening," said Sarah, her interest piqued.

"Wow, you're serious..."said Chuck, astonished. "Okay, if I manage to sneak up on you at any point, then I get to...I get to..." he trailed off lamely, trying to think of an appropriate prize for achieving the impossible.

"Don't bother coming up with anything, you won't win. But I think I should get something out of this," retorted Sarah.

"And what would that be?" asked Chuck.

"If you don't sneak up on me successfully within a month, then you have to make me breakfast from now until the baby is born."

"And if I do manage to sneak up on you?"

"That's for you to decide, but I count you succeeding as managing to kiss me on the neck without me noticing you beforehand."

"Easy," said Chuck confidently. "I think I know what I get if I win."

"Do enlighten me," said Sarah dryly.

"You have to eat the breakfasts I make for the rest of our lives," he said, putting himself out there once again for Sarah.

Sarah's jaw dropped. Every time, she thought in amazement, every time I think he can't surprise me any more than he already has, he goes and does something like this. Maybe I should let him win? No, I'm too competitive for that, he's going to have to earn my breakfasts. Yeah, that'll teach him. And no training required. Perfect, another thing off the Chuck training list.

"Chuck..."she stammered, her eyes glistening. "That's...that's...well, it's you, isn't it?" she finished, laughing.

Chuck got a wide smile on his face at Sarah's reaction. "Well, I guess I like to surprise you. Shall we actually go to the firing range or just stay in bed?" he joked.

"Well..."began Sarah, feigning indecision. "I guess we should probably go. You're not going to learn how to be accurate here, are you?"

"No...probably not," conceded Chuck as he stood up from the bed, taking Sarah with him in his arms.

"Chuck! Put me down!" she shouted, laughing.

"That SAS training got me all into shape, you wouldn't want that to go to waste now, would you?" said Chuck teasingly.

"Well, I think you probably should put me down anyway," argued Sarah. "You might struggle to fire a weapon with me taking up all of your arm space."

Chuck finally relented and put Sarah back down on solid carpet, yet Sarah strangely found herself missing the warmth and security she found in Chuck's arms.

Come on Walker, you're stronger than this, she silently berated herself, he's only a guy. Admittedly, a perfect, cute, funny, perfect, charming, sweet, lovable, perfect...

Sarah shook her head to clear it from the Chuck-love fest. It was usually a good thing, but it wasn't particularly desirable when she wasn't in a position to do anything about it.

I guess I'll have to keep him busy tonight then, thought Sarah wistfully.

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It was only a short walk to the firing range that was present at the Hereford base, and Chuck and Sarah walked there hand-in-hand, as they did everywhere they went, much to the displeasure of Casey, who had stayed on to take control of some of the espionage training that would be going on.

Quite a lot of the young men on base, who had been rather hopeful upon seeing Sarah out for the first time, and without Chuck, had felt a severe sense of disappointment on seeing she and Chuck holding hands as they walked to training, but also severe envy of the curly haired nerd who was batting way above his average.

They got to the red-brick building that housed what was once a swimming pool, but had been converted to a separate firing range for recruits. In one room, there was a speed test, in which the recruits used a semiautomatic rifle to attempt to knock down ten targets with ten rounds in the fastest time that they could.

In the other was a more 'typical' firing range, with booths set up to give a stable firing platform for rifles, and to help separate the range from the recruits, in order to improve the all-important 'Health and Safety' of the base. Quite why a military base needed a Health and Safety risk assessment was beyond Chuck, but apparently 'that was England', according to the soldiers that he had spoken to in the various pubs and bars dotted around the base and surrounding area.

The two fiancées walked into the firing range, and Chuck's heart sank.

"Oh, hell no," he muttered, but not quietly enough.

"What's the matter, Bar- Pugh? Afraid I'll remember you still owe me a toe?" said Casey.

"How many times do I have to apologise for that?" asked Chuck.

Without warning, Casey fired his pistol directly into the floor ahead of Chuck, and just as suddenly, Casey found himself staring down the barrel of Sarah's weapon.

Where in the hell did she get that from? Wondered Chuck, I thought I found all the hiding places.

"Tut tut, Lloyd. Recruits can't carry guns. You know that," reprimanded Casey.

"Sorry Casey," said Sarah sheepishly. "Old habits die hard."

"Give me the gun, Lloyd," said Casey, aiming his own at her.

"Guys, calm down!" shouted Chuck. "Aren't you here to teach, Casey? Rather than shooting your pupils, I mean."

I can kick his ass anyway, thought Sarah as she flicked the safety on her pistol on and handed it to Casey. With or without a gun, and not even Chuck's going to find where I've hidden my knives.

I wonder where she hides her knives, thought Chuck, in a not-too-rare display of synchronicity with his fiancé. I must find them!

"Okay. Pugh, nice to see you've still got your lady fighting your corner, but the shins of the world will sleep easier once you have a vague idea what you're doing with a gun," said Casey, strolling over to a rack that contained weapons of all sizes, ranging from assault rifles, to shotguns, and to pistols. Selecting what he viewed as the 'safest' choice of weaponry, Casey stepped back from the rack and once more stood before Chuck.

"This is going to be your friend from now until you pass this course. And you will pass. I'll have you shooting the sovereign off a chav at fifty yards by the time we're done here, don't worry about that."

"Err, Casey?" questioned Chuck. "Just how much time have you spent in England?"

"None of your business, Pugh. Why do you ask?" answered Casey.

"Well, I only understood roughly half of what you just said."

"It's the training, you pick up the local dialect quickly," said Casey by way of explanation.

"Sarah hasn't," Chuck pointed out.

"That's because she's spent more time digging her nails into your back than amongst the lovely inhabitants of this fine town," Casey said, the last part in a very sarcastic tone. "Now, are you going to take the pistol?"

Chuck reached out tentatively for the, thankfully, unloaded pistol, and felt slightly uncomfortable at the weight of the metal instrument of death in his hands. This is not something I want to be doing often, thought Chuck. Can't I just wait in the car? God, I wish I could wait in the car.

"Don't puke, Pugh," laughed Casey, slapping Chuck on the back and directing him to the end of the firing range. "You should be fine working on your own, Lloyd, and God knows Pugh is going to need the teaching more than you."

Sarah gave a noncommittal shrug, but instead of stepping over to the rack that contained all of the standard issue weapons, she turned to Casey.

"Uh, Casey? Can I have my pistol back?" she asked, almost timidly. What the hell has happened to you, Walker? What happened to the stone cold agent that could kill someone faster than fix her hair? Oh, right, Chuck happened. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Casey once again removed Sarah's pistol from the waistband of his trousers, and popping the magazine, he checked the number of rounds remaining. Satisfied, he passed the pistol back to Sarah, and directed her to the booth next to where Chuck was standing, still looking very uncomfortable holding his weapon.

"I'm gonna assume you don't have any spare clips on you, so there's a box of round and some empty clips at the far left. We're not leaving here until both of you get at least a 75 out of 90 with your nine round clip," said Casey, pointing at the ammunition reserves for Sarah's benefit, and then striding to stand next to Chuck.

"Sarah, are you sure you should be firing that? What about the baby?" asked Chuck, concerned for his unborn child.

"Way ahead of you, honey," answered Sarah, who was already screwing a suppressor onto the barrel of her pistol. Satisfied, he turned his attention back to Casey, who was looking impatient to begin the lesson.

"Let me see what I'm working with here. Pugh, take a couple of shots at the target, and try not to shoot yourself in the process," said Casey, beginning his instruction of Chuck, and handing Chuck a single magazine, that Chuck easily managed to load. Casey breathed a small sigh of relief; it would have been testing on his calm centre to have to teach the reluctant pupil even the most basic side of weapons use.

Chuck, rather unsteadily, took up a rough approximation of what he believed to be a firing stance, and pointed the pistol downrange. The target, a paper sheet set up ten metres away, was all that Chuck allowed himself to focus on. He tried to control his breathing and rapidly spiralling heart rate, but he just couldn't get out of his head the fact that this would be the first time he had intentionally fired a weapon not composed entirely of pixels.

Finally, feeling like he had at least a small measure of control, Chuck felt ready to take his first shot. He tried to focus on the fact that it was only a paper target, not a living, breathing human, but it was still with some trepidation that he fired off his first shot. It went directly into the inner circle of the target, but unfortunately it was Sarah's target he hit. Waiting for the inevitable barrage of snarky comments that would be heading his way, he bowed his head, so he wasn't surprised by Casey's next comment.

"Not bad for a first try, Pugh, but the target you're aiming for is directly in front of you, not off to the side."

"Thank you for that wonderful insight, Casey," said Chuck sarcastically to his former handler and forever nemesis. "Anything helpful you'd like to add? I would rather like to pass this eventually."

"Squeeze the trigger, don't pull it," suggested Casey. "That was what caused your shot to fly off to the right. And for God's sake, look where you're aiming, don't try to shoot with your eyes squeezed shut."

Chuck at least had the good grace to look sheepish about the last part, but he also had a look of greater determination as he once again stepped up to the firing booth. Sarah had one last piece of helpfulness she wanted to dispense to him.

"You get over 60 from a single mag and I plan to make Casey incredibly uncomfortable," she whispered to him seductively.

"What do you mean by 60?" Chuck whispered back.

"Do you see the rings on the target? Each ring has a different score, with 10 on the bull and working out to 1 on the outside ring," Sarah explained patiently.

"Let's do this," said Chuck with a confidence he wasn't sure he was feeling. Taking on board Casey's advice, he closed both hands around the pistol once more, squinting one eye to better sight on the target. Steadying his feet so he didn't look like a fool when the recoil caught him off balance, and making sure to relax his arms so as to reduce the stress on the bones in his lower arm, he felt ready to take his second and hopefully much more accurate shot.

He slowly applied pressure to the trigger, mindful to keep it even to avoid pulling the barrel to the right as with the previous shot. As he applied more pressure, he felt the shock of the shot, accompanied with the loud bang synonymous with a bullet being ejected from its cartridge. Casey lowered his eye to the small telescope mounted on the side of the booth to check the target closely.

"Five," he announced. "Not bad for a newbie. It's still pulling to the right slightly, but I don't know if that's the sight or you, so fire off the rest of the magazine and we'll see if an adjustment needs to be made."

A few minutes later, after Chuck had fired the remaining seven shots in the magazine, Casey pressed a button that brought the, by now, perforated target towards the end of the range. It stopped in front of the trainee and the instructor. The eight holes on the sheet were all roughly grouped around the original shot that had hit the target, with a few sixes and fours due to the spread that came from a lack of practice.

"This should be a simple enough problem to fix," said Casey. "Give me the pistol."

Chuck handed Casey the weapon quickly; he was feeling slightly more comfortable with the pistol in his hands, but that didn't mean he wanted to spend more time than was necessary holding it. Taking the pistol, Casey fiddled with the sight on the end, aligning it more to the left than it originally was.

Meanwhile, Sarah had also pressed the button to bring her second target up to the booth, and she was inspecting it with a small measure of pride. With good reason too, as every shot appeared to have passed through a now very ragged hole directly in the centre of the sheet.

"You've always got to show off, haven't you?" said Chuck, laughing slightly. Sarah turned and playfully stuck her tongue out at him, a gesture Chuck reciprocated.

"Nice to see you two have progressed past the age of five. Grab another few mags, Pugh, you're gonna be here for a while yet. Lloyd, you can go. If you can tear yourself away from your boy-toy, that is," Casey said with his usual level of tact.

"No, I think I'll stay here and watch. Somebody has to encourage him once in a while," answered Sarah.

"Why am I not surprised?" Casey muttered to himself.

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With the newly realigned sights, Chuck was doing better, certainly. He had even managed to land one shot in the 'ten' ring, which Casey insisted must have been a fluke. Overall, he thought he was doing rather well, and he had been averaging roughly seventy for the past five magazines. This had led to the completion of Sarah's promise to make Casey uncomfortable, which turned out to be a rather heavy make-out session.

That usually meant Chuck needed to take a couple of minutes to be able to concentrate on the task at hand, namely getting above seventy-five so that he could get Sarah home and unleash some of the passion she repeatedly brought to the surface only to leave it there, always growing. What was worse is that Chuck was almost certain she was doing it on purpose, but it made him even more determined to improve that slight amount that was necessary.

As it happened, with Casey's continued hints, Chuck was getting better at grouping his shots, and he was also edging ever closer to that magic 75 mark. From this particular magazine, he had fired eight of the nine shots, and was on a score of 66. That meant that if he could somehow get a nine or ten then he could get home and release his urgent passion that he was barely, barely, keeping under control as it was.

He drove those thoughts from his mind and focused on the paper sheet in front of him. He could see the perforations from his earlier shots; all grouped just to the right and below the 'ten' circle. He figured now was as good a time as any to try and correct his aim so, compensating for the slight misalignment between where he aimed and where the shot ended up, he aimed slightly above and to the left of the 'ten' ring.

As Casey had taught him, Chuck slowed his breathing as much as possible. In...hold...hold...hold...out, he repeated internally, the silent mantra his attempt to maintain focus. He felt his heart rate slow and, now feeling calm enough, he began to depress the trigger for hopefully the final time. As the release of pressure came with the telltale noise, he lowered the pistol, and his heart rate escalated again. He didn't know why he was this bothered about a simple test that had no bearing other than when he'd get to have sex next. Actually, no, he did know why. That was the reason. Casey lowered his eye to the small telescope once more, and came up with a grin somewhere between pride and disappointment.

"As much as I'd like to keep you here, you managed to get that shot on the nine/ten boundary, which gives you a score of 76. I'm not sure how you managed it, Pugh, but you can go. Try to keep your clothes on until you're actually inside the house; nobody wants to see you naked."

Sarah gave a small, obviously fake, cough, and when Casey turned to look at her, she gave him a pointed glance that said, quite clearly, I want to. Casey turned away in disgust; it was bad enough they had to keep kissing while he was trying to teach, but deliberately scarring him with that image? He was sure there had to be an international treaty against torture that cruel and unusual.

"What the hell, Lloyd? Just go, please," he said, almost begging Sarah to leave with her former asset/future husband.

I really hope they make it back fully clothed, thought Casey; I left my eye-gouging spoon back at Quantico.

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A/N: Another long wait, I know, and for that I apologise, but it's been another hectic week. I was going to include a lot more of the training side of things, but I'd prefer to get right onto the main arc of the story, so there'll be one more chapter centring around training, and then it'll be on with the story. Next chapter comes at 135 reviews :P and a slight spoiler, everyone's favourite seduction teacher, Roan Montgomery, gets a chance to see how many of the prongs of his famous assault Chuck has remembered. And maybe he gets to train Casey, just for kicks. I know I'd like to see that.

Green button, just below, it needs pressing. That is its only purpose in life; you wouldn't want to make the poor button redundant, would you?