Sarah was asking herself more often than not these days just what possessed her to say certain things to Chuck. She could have just left his comment about being a real couple hanging, or said something from the Agency handbook of ambiguous answers. But no, she had to go and say that they were a real couple. Did his opinion of "them" really mean that much to her? Did she feel the need to constantly affirm their "relationship" with unnecessary touches and affection, all under the name of cover maintenance?
Of course she did. But worse, she didn't even stop to think about the bugs in Chuck's room when she felt the need to affirm their relationship. And then there was that ever present need for something "real". A perfectly normal need for anyone to have, but that was precisely the problem: they weren't normal. They probably weren't anywhere close to anybody's definition of a couple either.
She couldn't deny it hurt to see the photo of her and Chuck "at" Comic Con thrown unceremoniously in with the rest of the rubbish, but what hurt her more was that she knew it was her fault. She had breached the trust that had built up between them by hiding the bug behind that photo. Any other agent, hell, any other asset, and she wouldn't have been fazed by it. She would have defended herself fiercely, citing the professional need for the safety of her asset. With this asset, however, all she could think of was how to make it up to him. She could have turned up to the Halloween party in a simple costume, but it was worth wearing that particular costume to see the look of astonishment that crossed Chuck's face. And the grin he wore when she mentioned that perennial "something real" as she took that photo made everything seem right with her messed up world, if only for a second.
It wasn't a surprise to see just how well Chuck had adapted to his new career, especially considering it was rather forced upon him. Her heart had just about stopped when she saw Chuck standing with a pair of wire clippers in front of a car that she knew held a self-destruct device that had been activated less than a minute earlier. Yet she had faith, strangely, in her guy. Despite his lack of any formal training in bomb disposal, she felt safer than she had with Bryce. This was his destined profession, of that she was sure. But she also had a sneaking suspicion that Bryce had seen things differently. Her former partner/boyfriend and traitor had always mentioned the friend he had been forced to destroy in college. He had used it as an example for the rare occasions she doubted the sacrifice she had made.
The sacrifice was worth it now though, if it kept her Chuck safe.