A/N: Hey guys, sorry for the somewhat late update... Hahaha, just to give you a heads up, I'll be updating every week, since I usually get inspiration from each week's episode. And just to clear up a little on the story, I'm sort of trying to explore Chuck's past turmoil, as well as his present loss of Sarah, which will come in the later chapters, I promise. On Sarah's side, however, she's trying her best to deal with Chuck's disappearance and the fact that it was partly her fault that he ran away, and couple that with the fact that Shaw's still trying to ignite their relationship. This will definitely have a happy Charah ending, I promise. But for now, just let the characters vent their angst and anger in their own ways.

I'm sorry if this isn't what you wanted/expected, but I'm still gonna roll with this idea. If you've got any ideas, do let me know in a PM or review. Please, don't be shy. Oh, and about this week's episode, I was blown away by the Tic Tac. But I miss Casey already )': I missed Beckman, but she was totally out of line! ):

Disclaimers - I don't own Chuck or Frightened Rabbit's "My Backwards Walk."

theprincess1511 was awesome with her beta-ing. She edited all the right spots and spared me some embarrassment :D That girl is amazing!

Thanks for reading, guys. Means a lot to me, and the reviews, whether bad or good, just make my heart explode with joy!


His eyes widened in realization as he scanned the area, taking in every inch of the magical, ancient setting that was once his safest haven. The tree house was still in its tree, the mountain of comics and toys still safely hidden in the sturdy mahogany chest that rested on the deck of the suspended wooden hut.

He reached out a hand, brushing it affectionately over the aged tree that supported the house – after all these years, it was still standing tall and proudly as one of the only trees in the clearing of the wide meadow, which was overlooked by a quaint little residence by the side. Home, he had once called it. His expression was one of absolute disbelief, but his eyes, glazed and wet with tears, were beaming, where his face could not.

"Hey Morgan, come on, I've got something awesome to show you!" He yelled, not even bothering to look behind him to ensure his friend was following.

His unusually long legs allowed him to take long strides forward, though his best friend had no such luxury.

"Wait up, Chuck!"

"Come on, you slowpoke!" He flung his arms wildly, finally turning back to face his best friend. He pointed straight at the figure in the distance, nearing with every step they took. Soon, the shorter of the two boys stood in slack-jawed awe as his eyes sweeped over the sight before them.

"That's awesome, dude."

"It sure is, buddy."

"You built it? All of this?"

"I had help."

"That's impressive."

"Yep."

A pause.

"RACE YOU UP, ORGAN!"

"Dude… Organ? That's gonna stick, isn't it?"

A cheeky smile bloomed across the taller boy's face.

"Oh, come on! Chuck, please, promise me you'll never mention that name again!"

"No promises, Organ. Now come on up here, I've got something else to show you!"

He chuckled, shaking his head at the memory that had flooded back into his mind. We were so young. Innocent. He placed another palm onto the tree. Then, curling it into a balled fist, he rapped against the bark. His mother's eyes widened as a roped ladder dropped from the branches above, while he faced her with a knowing smile.

"Morgan suggested it. Dad helped."

She nodded, slipping her hand into his. "Shall we go up?"

He casted his eyes downward, not satisfied with her nonchalance regarding his father. He watched as ants worked their way into the dirt of the ground beneath. They scurried around their anthill, and he had the sickening urge to expose it to a jet of water. If he paid her attention, he would've noticed the loss of a smile on her face. But he did not, burning a hole into the ground with his intense gaze.

"Did…" He paused, not sure if what he was asking would offend her. "Did you miss Dad while you were… gone? Did you miss us?"

She sighed, gently pressing her palm to his face in a comforting gesture. Then she stepped forward, embracing his lanky form in a tight bear hug.

"In all those years that I was gone… Chuck, I never stopped missing you, your sister or your father. I never stopped thinking of the three of you and it makes me so proud that you two have never stopped taking care of each other, even after your father left," she whispered into his ear. He could feel the dampness through his t-shirt – tears, rampant and hot, rolled down her cheeks and into his clothing, where a dark blotch had formed.

"Sweetheart," she pulled away, reaching up with a shaky, frail hand to swipe the fallen tears away. "Every night, every day, I thought of you two, wondering if your father was taking good care of you, wondering if you were eating well. I wanted to come back, Chuck. I really did."

His vision turned blurry, but the tears failed to fall, her soft fingertips brushing them away at the very last second. "Why didn't you then?"

"You'll find out soon enough," she said, an air of finality in her statement, seemingly unintimidating and yet assertive enough for him to stop pressing the topic.

He smiled, taking her hand in his. "Come on, mum, let's climb up to the Bartowstree!"

"Is that what you and your dad named it?" She laughed heartily, and he was treated with memories of himself as a child, falling asleep to that peaceful, musical peal of laughter. "I swear, your father was such a brilliant inventor. He just never had the originality when it came to naming his inventions!"

"Yeah, guess it runs in the family," he grinned cheekily, passing the ladder to his mother. The tree house was small, but definitely strong enough to support their combined weight. He remained nervous though, making sure not to fidget too often. He turned towards the chest, pausing for a moment to retrieve a key that he had hidden in his wallet.

He hesitated – it had been too long since he had last opened it. He could hardly even remember what he had stored, other than his collection of comics which he had failed to retrieve when they had moved. Holding his breath in anticipation, he felt his mother's reassuring arm on his – he half expected the inside of the chest to emit a gold light as he lifted the catch.

But there was no gold, no treasure – only items that he once considered dear to his heart. His comic book collection rested to the side, while action figures occupied the rest of the space. Then he spotted it, still wrapped in its protective plastic and buried underneath his figure of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Gingerly, he enclosed his hand around the item, the plastic crinkling between his fingertips as he poured the contents into his palm. A keychain, in the shape of a lion – Simba of The Lion King, to be exact. He wasn't surprised when she pulled out a keychain of her own and placed it into her own palm – Sarabi, Simba's mother.

"Chuckles, Elle bear! Mummy's home!"

Distinct shouts and screams echoed through the house as two bumbling balls of energy shot down the stairs, slapping and kicking at each other's faces and shins. The boy, distinguished by his untamed curls, began to wail as his older sister snatched the lead, jumping into his mother's arms before he could.

"Hush, darling," his mother soothed, shifting Ellie into one arm while she scooped her son up with the other. Giving them both a peck on each cheek, their stubby little arms embraced her neck from every direction. Finally, she replanted them to the floor, bending down so that she maintained eye contact.

"I've got something for the both of you!"

"What is it, mamma?" Ellie squealed, jumping up and down excitedly. Chuck merely grinned shyly, holding his sister's hand in anticipation.

"Here we go! Ellie, hold out your palm," she smiled, placing a keychain of Simba in her palm. A soft whine from Chuck and the keychain of Simba was transferred to his own palm, courtesy of Ellie, who planted a kiss on his cheek at the same time.

"That's my girl," she whispered, ruffling her daughter's hair, as she placed another keychain into her hand. "You love Nala too, don't you?"

"Yeah! Nala is so beautiful!"

"Now, Chuck, Ellie," she held their hands in her own, smiling as their eyes immediately latched onto hers. "No matter what; no matter where Mummy has to go, once you have Simba and Nala with you, it means that Mummy's got Sarabi with her, and Daddy's got Mufasa with him. And we're all going to be together forever, aren't we?"

Chuck nodded vigorously, his toothless smile reigniting the faltering flame within her at least for a while. Then she turned to Ellie, whose face reflected confusion. She felt a surge of pride for her daughter she had always been such a bright child.

"Why are you saying this, momma?"

Olivia Bartowski fought to keep the radiant smile on her face, just for a moment longer.

And all they could do was smile back at each other.


"Damn it, Shaw!"

Sarah paused to glare at the offending figure in front of her. His eyes were downcast, yet the frown on his face indicated anger, instead of the guilt or regret that she thought he was supposed to be feeling. She detached his arms from her shoulders for what seemed like the fifth time, before leaning down to help Josh to his feet.

She lent a hand to his jaw, wincing when he winced, as she brushed against the open sore that had developed on his lip, blood gathering on her fingertips. He brushed off her concern with ease – it was just a flesh wound, but he could vouch that Shaw's clenched fist packed one hell of a punch.

"This is our fault," she stared him down. "Chuck's gone and it's our fault for not paying attention to him! This is exactly why I didn't want anything to start between us – we start to lose focus, we don't concentrate on protecting him and we let him slip through our fingers, just like that!"

"And if you're perfectly content at being so unprofessional, I think we should nip this in the bud – right here, right now." She gestured toward Josh, whose swelled lip was evidence enough.

"Sam… I–"

"It's Sarah." Her hiss ensured the end of that conversation.

"Look, Sarah, it's totally fine. My lip's completely fine! Nothing I haven't felt before. I really don't want any trouble –"

"Josh, your lip is bleeding. There's a godforsaken bruise forming on your jaw and the fact you did absolutely nothing wrong just makes it sickening."

"Sarah, with all due respect to Agent Shaw–"

She let out a cry of frustration, pushing past the two bewildered men and stalking her way toward her Porsche. Her hand itched to grab the Smith & Wesson, perpetually tucked between her waistband, and shoot majority of the agents on the beach.

"Agent Walker," one of the agents spoke up as she stormed past him.

"What?" she spat, pinning him with a murderous glare.

"W-we've found something pertaining to Agent Carmichael's whereabouts. Our highway cameras have picked up a red and white Toyota Matrix travelling toward Palo Alto. We've already confirmed that Agent Carmichael was behind the wheel."

And she felt her heart begin to beat again.