We don't own Chuck. Actually, we don't own much of anything.

If you enjoyed this or any of the stories on this site, please take a second and send the author a review. It only takes a second – and it really, really makes a difference. That's probably more important than ever now that the series has ended. If you want to keep the Chuck fandom alive and continue to read about these characters, you really need to think about rewarding the people whose hard work make that possible.

Sins of the Father

x-x-x-x-x

One good thing about cold showers was that they were cold. Very, very cold. It was something both Chuck and Sarah needed this morning if they were going to face each other without breaking their resolve to go slowly. Even if Sarah didn't quite see the need for it, Chuck did, and she was going to stick to it, for his sake.

One bad thing about going slowly, though, was that it took away most of Sarah's options to find out Chuck's surprise, and he clearly wasn't about to tell her on his own.

But, she found out as they got closer, it wasn't something he could hide for very long. As soon as Chuck pulled off the freeway, Sarah knew where they were going.

She sat speechless for a moment, before turning to him and asking, "How do you know about my mom?"

Chuck, seeing the tension in her eyes, knew that she needed a quick explanation. He reached over and took her hand.

"Relax," he said, "the situation with your mom is all resolved. I know about Hungary."

"How?"

"About two months ago, your old handler found out where you'd hidden Molly. We had to go on a mission to protect her. To make a very long story short, you killed him and we captured the rest of his team. Don't worry; everybody's safe, and there's no longer any reason to hide Molly."

Sarah stared out the window, feeling an unspoken weight lift from her shoulders. How long had she been worrying about one little girl? How long had she been unable to speak of it? And Chuck knowing about Hungary was the last straw. He officially knew every single detail about her. Why pretend anything else was true?

Finally, she asked, "Have you met her? My mom, I mean."

"Of course," Chuck nodded. "She and Molly spent a night at our place during the mission. She's six now, you know. She spent the day kicking Morgan's butt around the room with video games. I think she might have a small crush on him. They're both the same emotional age, after all."

That got a sad smile. "She's six?" Sarah sighed. It barely seemed possible. "How's Mom?"

"She's great," Chuck said with a reassuring smile. "Fantastic, really. And she knows all about your, um, condition. She didn't want to scare Molly, so you might want to act as if you've met before. You've already been introduced to her as her sister."

Sister. The word tasted sweet on her tongue.

x-x-x-x-x

Sarah had never been much of a hugger. She used to shy away from physical affection from both of her parents, no matter how much time had passed since her last moment with them. But once her mother's arms were around her, steady and solid and safe, she found she never wanted to let go. The best part was that she didn't have to say a thing. She just squeezed and breathed in that familiar scent of laundry detergent and freshly-baked cookies that reminded her of the very best moments of her childhood.

It was a long while before either of them said a word, before either of them let go.

Chuck tried hard to hide his interest by turning to Molly, kneeling down to ask, "Are you ready, kiddo?"

Molly grinned with anticipation. "Are we really still going?"

"Of course we are!" he exclaimed. He pulled a teasing frown. "You promised me. Don't even try to get out of it now."

"Where are you two going?" Sarah asked, a smile tugging at her lips as she watched them. She couldn't ignore the way her heart fluttered at their easy interaction.

Chuck flashed her his easy things-are-okay grin. "We're getting out of here to have some fun. Who wants to stay here and watch you two hug all day? Eww, right, Molly?"

"Eww," Molly quickly agreed, her nose scrunched up. "Chuck's going to take me to Chuck E Cheese for lunch."

"Oh, Lord," Sarah said with a grin of her own, "are you sure about this? Being at a place that caters to a bunch of kids, being stuck with one who's all hopped up on sugar and pizza, and running from video game to video game? It might get wild."

"I'm planning on it," he replied with a charming smile. "We'll be back for dinner."

"Actually," Sarah said, breaking into a laugh, "I was talking to Molly." She knelt down and grabbed her hand. "Keep an eye out for him," she said with a wink. "Word on the street is that he gets a little crazy around video games."

x-x-x-x-x

Chuck and Molly were barely out the door when Emma began bustling around the kitchen, getting their lunch ready. Comfortable silence reigned until the plates were on the table.

Sitting down across from her daughter, Emma finally took a moment to look at her properly. Not much had changed in three months, not much that you could see, at any rate.

"So," she began cautiously, her voice soft, because Sarah was one to get startled easily, "how are you feeling, sweetie?" She wanted desperately to take her hand, but that was the wrong move. "Are you remembering anything?"

"Bits and pieces. It's coming slowly," Sarah admitted with a small shrug. Her voice took on a sad quality as she continued, "It's starting to frustrate Chuck. I feel bad, but I don't know what to do to help."

Emma shook her head. "He's not frustrated," she insisted. "He's scared. There's a big difference. He's worried about you. That's all he talks about."

Sarah's brow knitted. "Wait, when have you two talked?"

"He's been calling me every week or so," Emma explained quietly. "Just to check in and see if we need anything. He always talks to Molly for a minute." She paused, took a sip of coffee, then said, "She's started to really look forward to those calls. She doesn't have a man in her life like the other kids. That's important, and Chuck being there really helps. I can't tell you what they talk about. All Molly does is giggle. By the way, thank you for the money. It was very generous."

Sarah shook her head, perplexed. "Money?"

Emma sighed softly. "I wasn't sure if you knew, but I thought not. About three weeks ago, Chuck called and said he was coming into some money. He said he wanted to help take care of me and Molly. So he set up a trust fund. The papers just came yesterday."

Sarah bit her lip as she constructed the timeline in her head. "Three weeks ago," she mused, "he didn't have a clue where I was. The way I left things . . . he didn't know if he'd ever see me again." She nearly asked out loud why he would even do that, given the circumstances, but she already knew the answer. She turned back to her mom. "How much?" Emma hesitated, and Sarah pressed, softly but firmly, "Mom. How much?"

"Five million dollars," confessed Emma. "He set up an annuity so that I get a monthly check, and Molly gets a lump sum when she turns eighteen to pay for college. Sarah, it's really going to help out. You know how tight money's been."

Sarah took a bite of her mac and cheese to give herself time to think. It was just like her mom to make such a comfort food for her, a food she thought of as a remedy for skinned knees and the peculiar heartache that comes from being teased. She knew the answer, but she also knew she wanted to hear it from her mother's lips.

She lifted her eyes. "You really like him, don't you?"

"I don't like him," Emma scoffed. "I liked him for about a minute after we met. No, I love him now. He's more than I ever dared to hope for in a son-in-law." She smiled. "You had me worried for a while. I mean, Bryce Larkin? Really, sweetie?"

"I never meant for you to meet Bryce," Sarah said, blushing. "That was an accident. Bryce Larkin was never going to be your son-in-law."

"I know," she replied, a twinkle in her eye.

"Mom," Sarah said, "I really need to know. When you saw me a couple months ago . . . was I happy?"

Emma took a deep breath and another sip of coffee. "When I was at your place last month, I asked you a question. You were watching Chuck play on the floor with Molly. I've watched you grow, but never once have I seen you that content. So I asked you if you ever thought that all the roads you traveled, all the paths you took, would lead you to that place."

Sarah wrapped her palms around her coffee mug, feeling the warmth leech into her skin, willing that warmth to travel the length of her body. She ached to remember this moment.

"And you said," Emma continued, watching her closely, "that you never thought so, but you were happy, and so, so lucky. That you'd finally found a place to belong. My point, Sarah, is that you're the only one who would know if you were truly happy. But I know for sure that I was happy for you." After a pause, she said, "Tell me something, Sarah, and I want you to be honest. Why is it so hard for you to believe that you could possibly have been happy?"

"It's a long story," Sarah sighed. "A really long story."

Emma shot her an encouraging look. "I have time." But Sarah only took another bite of macaroni, and Emma relented. "He is a really great guy, though. He'd do anything to make you happy. Maybe you should give him a chance. Guys like that don't just fall from the sky."

"Why is everyone so afraid I'm not going to give him a chance?" Sarah asked, more fire and frustration in her voice than she'd intended.

After a pause, Emma, smiling slightly, said, "You have to admit, he's not exactly your type. And he's not the type a beautiful superspy would choose to spend her time with as she traipses about the world."

"Why?" Sarah fired back, trying and failing again to keep her composure. "Why do I have to admit that?"

"Well, you did spend years going out of your way to land the suave, bad boy type. And it lasted well into your 20s, so don't say it was just a teenage phase."

Sarah clenched her jaw. With effort, she forced out, "Chuck . . . Chuck is different."

"He is," Emma agreed with a sage nod. "And he knows it, too. Which is why it's understandable he's worried you won't give him the chance to prove himself."

"That's not in question, never has been. It's only been a few days, I know, but I understand how great he is. Perfect, really. I can't imagine loving him more than I do already, or my life without him. But why can't he believe that? Why can't you?"

Emma answered the question with one of her own. "Have you ever told him that?" Off Sarah's look, she continued, "I realize how difficult it is for you. You inherited that particular trait from your father, I'm afraid. If you really want him to know how you feel, then tell him you love him. Sometimes that's all it takes."

Another sip of coffee, another bite of pasta, another moment of pensive silence.

Then, from Emma again, "I notice you're not wearing your wedding ring."

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut and ran a hand over them. "I'm not good at expressing myself. You know I never have been. And the wedding ring, Mom, it's complicated. I don't want to put any pressure on him. You don't understand. He's questioning everything, blaming himself. He's so . . . fragile right now."

Emma snorted. "And you think not wearing your wedding ring is making him less fragile?" More gently, she said, "Don't you think he asks himself why, and maybe he doesn't like the answer he comes up with? He's still wearing his ring."

Frowning, Sarah leveled an accusing look at her mom. What she needed was motherly advice, not to be told she was doing everything wrong. "I just don't know what to do for him," she admitted, her shoulders slumping. "Every thing I do, every single thing I say, is the exact wrong thing. I'm trying my best."

"I know you are, of course I do," Emma assured her, reaching out to rest a hand over hers. "But sometimes a simple 'I love you' works wonders."

Emma hesitated. She didn't want to talk badly about Jack in front of Sarah, especially knowing how much she loved him. They both held equal shares in the blame for everything falling to pieces. She could have tried harder, to make it work, to make a better life for their daughter.

"The fact of the matter is that your father and I didn't give you very good examples. You don't know how to be a wife, because I never showed you what it was to be a good one. But Chuck is a good man, a very good man, and he deserves a wife who loves him, who is always going to be there for him, who would do whatever it takes to get the two of you through this, including going outside of your comfort zone. If you can't be that, then you should tell him the truth and leave." Smiling, she squeezed her daughter's hand. "But that's not going to happen, is it?"

Sarah shook her head as a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "No," she said, certainty filling her voice, "it's not."

"I didn't think so," Emma grinned. "That's why I'm not all that worried about Chuck. Sure, he's in a low spot right now, but he has you to watch over him. You're going to rescue him."

x-x-x-x-x

The ride home in the dark was quiet, to say the least. Chuck was giving her space to sort out her thoughts, and Sarah had no inclination to break the comfortable silence. Old habits were hard to break. She wasn't accustomed to having someone to confide in, especially someone who seemed to already know her every secret. Someone the people she loved already seemed to trust and love in turn. It seemed strange, downright unreal, the way her mom treated Chuck, like he was a life-long friend after meeting him only twice and talking to him a few times on the phone. But she couldn't deny what a huge relief it was either. She let a smile come to her lips. It was probably a good thing she liked him, seeing as how he was going to be her son-in-law for the rest of her life.

The man in question had been nothing short of perfect all day, almost too good to be true. Molly made no attempt to hide that he was her new favorite person in the world, the one she preferred to both her mother and her cool, butt-kicking older sister. It only made sense, she supposed, since he had been the one to pump her full of sugar and video games.

Heart full of warmth, she glanced over at him, suddenly noticing the bags under his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged. He was exhausted. Here he was, having a horrible month, and he still found the time and the strength and the generosity to make a six-year-old feel like a princess for a day, make her giggle incessantly throughout dinner. It was the sweetest, most unselfish thing that Sarah had ever witnessed in her life. And the best thing is that he did it because he wanted to.

Just like setting up the trust fund that he clearly wasn't going to tell her about. What kind of man gave away five million dollars without wanting something in return? Money wasn't important to him. Family was. And now he considered her family to be his. He wanted to look out for them even when he had every right to believe that their marriage wasn't going to survive.

Her mind wandered back to Bryce. He could have been every bit as charming when he wanted to be. He would have possibly done similar things, but not with the same selfless intentions. Bryce would have had an agenda. Chuck wasn't doing this to impress her, to bank up a favor for when he wanted something later. He was just a genuinely nice, warm, generous man.

Suddenly, Sarah was almost glad she didn't remember those days of falling hopelessly in love with the nicest man in the world and not being able to do a damn thing about it. She hated not having the good memories, of course, but there was so much pain mixed in as well. Thank God that he had hung in there with her.

And he was such a natural with Molly, who loved him unconditionally. Sarah suspected Molly had fallen in love with Chuck about ten seconds into their first conversation. And why not? What a father he would be. How she couldn't wait for that day to come. She could picture the scene now – Chuck tucking their own little girl into bed, reading her a bedtime story. She wanted to share that experience with him more than she had ever wanted anything in her life.

She knew now it was up to her to make that happen, to do whatever it took. Her mom's words echoed in her mind. If she loved him, and she most definitely did, it was her job to get him over this.

So as soon as they were comfortably back home and through the door, she took both of Chuck's hands and forced him to face her. Then she kissed him. Softly, sweetly, nothing like the airport kiss a couple of days ago. It was affectionate, though, and electric. When the kiss broke, she pulled back just enough to be able to look at him.

"Thank you," she said softly, "for the perfect day. I can't tell you how much it meant to me. You were amazing, really."

She was ready for this tension between them to be over. She leaned back in and kissed him again, with more passion this time. And if one kiss led to another, and another led to an open button, and if an open button led to the bedroom, then she wouldn't complain one iota.

Except that Chuck was still not ready for that, judging by the way he tensed up. She broke off the kiss and, reluctantly, took a step away from him.

"Chuck," she began, "if I ask you a question, will you give me an honest answer?"

"A straight-up, no B.S., no telling-you-what-you-want-to-hear answer?" Chuck asked with a smile, clearly mocking her from a few days ago. "That kind of answer?"

Sarah wasn't in a teasing mood. "Yes, that kind of answer. Tell me the truth. Why are you so tense? Am I doing something to make you uncomfortable? If am, then I need you to tell me so I can stop."

"What? No, you've been perfect," he assured her quickly. "And I know you're really making an effort. I appreciate that."

Sarah, surprised at his choice of words, tilted her head. "What does that mean? 'Making an effort'?"

"I didn't mean anything by it," he protested quickly. He took a deep breath, then sat down on the couch, drawing her beside him. His hands laced in hers, he said, "Look, I know that you're going out of your way to try to make me comfortable."

He paused, searching for the words. In the spy world, she was the very best there was, trained in basic survival. The first lesson she learned was that the only person she could trust was herself. She was an expert on depending on herself, and she was comfortable there, knew how to protect herself physically and emotionally. It was the only life she ever knew.

Then he came along. He came along and asked her to throw all that out the window, to tear down all those walls she'd built and to make herself vulnerable, to enter a world where she didn't know how to act or protect herself, one in which she didn't even have any example in her past to serve as a guide.

"We come from two different places," he said finally. "Think about the world you lived in when a guy like Quinn coming into your hotel room and giving you an assignment to get rid of me was normal, and think about my world, the world you stepped into willingly. I asked you to trust me to protect you after you learned that you can't trust anybody, and you did it with nothing other than the faith that I wouldn't let you down." He gave her fingers a squeeze. "I can absolutely see why you wouldn't want to start over again. That's all I meant by effort. Let's face it. You're trying to be what I want you to be. It's okay to be honest about that, isn't it?"

Sarah was stunned that he had just summed up her most inner conflict in a single breath. It was one thing to know facts about her, but he had just demonstrated that he knew her very core. It was intimidating, to say the least, but maybe not wholly unexpected.

Their biggest problem, though, was a glaring one. He thought she was forcing herself to pretend for his benefit. Because he had only told half the story.

"Even if everything you said were true," she said, "did it ever occur to you that I got something out of being with you, too, something I desperately needed? That I made the decision with my eyes open?" She pressed herself closer to him, and her voice was softer, less insistent, when she said, "Chuck, haven't I made it plain that I want to do this, that I want to be here?"

Chuck was silent, and Sarah could only stare into his troubled eyes for a long moment. He just told her everything she needed to know about them. He knew her so well that she felt almost naked in front of him, yet there's something he hadn't factored in. The first time so much harder. They'd been fighting against the impossible. For the old Sarah, falling in love was forbidden, the only thing she thought she'd never be able to achieve, in fact never aspired to. It was the very last thing she should have done, and, knowing that, she fought against it with her ever fiber.

"I think you're forgetting something though," she murmured.

"What's that?"

"It's different this time. The first time, we had so much against us." Thinking back now, it was like it was supposed to happen, as if every moment in her life had led to him. "Now, I don't have to fight it anymore. You're my husband, Chuck. Why should I pretend? I trust you to protect me. Now I only wish I knew you as well as you know me so I could protect you, too." She wanted to know him that well again, she really did. "Until that day," she pressed, "why don't you help me out a little and tell me the real reason you're so troubled?"

Chuck still didn't say a word, just stared at her with those incredibly sad eyes. He shook his head, just a mere twitch, but it was enough to send Sarah over the edge. It was time to do this her way, the only way she knew how, even if it wasn't quite what he was used to.

"Okay, Chuck," she said, pulling out of his embrace and stalking to the other side of the room, "I can't help you if you won't level with me. Gentle isn't working, is it?"

"Sarah," Chuck sighed, slumping back into the couch cushions, "I don't know what you want me to say."

She bit back a scoff, but she couldn't help the rise of frustration in her voice as she rounded on him. "Say something at least, anything. Tell me the real reason, damn it!"

"You wanna know the real reason, Sarah?" he began to shout.

"Yeah, I do!"

"Fine! I don't deserve you!" He yelled, jumping up from the couch. "I don't, all right? I never have. Happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear? Do you want to see me totally broken?"

His shoulders shrugged helplessly, but she could only stare at him, dumbfounded.

"Come on, Sarah," he barreled on, "look at us. You're a goddess – you speak like, six hundred languages and you're an amazing dancer and you've been all over the world, and I'm a college dropout who works at the Buy More. You're the most beautiful woman in the world, used to being wooed by handsome superspies and princes in dinner jackets while my Saturday nights are spent playing video games in my pajamas with Morgan. You're champagne and caviar; I'm pizza and beer. What could you possibly see in me, especially twice?"

Sarah had to clench her jaw and ball her hands into fists to keep from exploding, but the anger bubbled up inside her chest, spilling over until she couldn't contain it anymore. In two steps, she stormed forward and pushed him back into the couch.

"Sit," she growled, pacing back in forth in front of him, a lioness trapped in a small cage.

Finally, after many deep, calming breaths, she stopped pacing long enough to hold up a threatening finger. "First of all," she said, "you don't talk that way about the love of my life. You know I don't take crap from anyone, and if anyone else talked about you like that, I'd be kicking their ass around the room right now. The Buy More, Chuck? I read the mission reports. You're a hero. Who cares if nobody knows? I do."

Chuck shook his head despondently. "That's just the computer in my brain," he said. "That wasn't me."

A bit more gently, she shook her head and insisted, "It was you, Chuck. It was all you." When he opened his mouth to protest, she argued, "Don't even try to deny it. You tricked that Shaw jerk into outing himself and his plan on live TV, no Intersect required. You tricked Alexei Volkoff, one of the CIA's most-feared enemies, into recording his password so we could take down his empire. Again, no Intersect. Just you, and there's not another agent on the planet who can come close to those accomplishments. So don't even give me that bullshit."

Chuck let out a sigh, but Sarah wasn't finished.

"You are who you are, Chuck," she told him gently. "But why isn't that enough for you? It is for me."

And all this talk about what he 'deserved' sent a pang through her heart. How did someone deserve another person, exactly? The idea was so preposterous and insulting on its face that she didn't even know how to attack it. So maybe neither of them deserved each other, but they were both there, both ready to give this their all.

He was sweet, he was smart, too smart to allow this irrational fear to overtake his brain. She wanted to tell him how lucky she was to have him, because her life before – with the superspies and the princes – was demeaning. All she was to them was a trophy, a notch on the bedpost. But here was a guy who knew her and loved her anyway. And in return, wasn't she teaching him what it was to believe in himself? To be the hero he was meant to be? The truth was that they were lucky to have each other.

"You don't get it, do you, Chuck?"

"Get what?"

"I know I don't have the same sense of our relationship now, but I can guarantee that I love you twice as much now than I ever did before. What can I do to get you to understand that?" She pursed her lips, and, voice less assured, said, "But maybe that's not the real problem here? Maybe it's that you're still deciding if you can love me."

Chuck immediately sat forward, every motion of his body protesting the charge. "I love you," he insisted. "You're wrong about that. I love you so much it hurts."

She bit her lip, inhaled deeply through her nose, and forced her gaze back to his. "And who do you love, Chuck? Me? Or the woman you remember marrying?"

Because they both knew those were two different people, and always would be. If he were still holding that ideal in his mind, she couldn't compete with that. But if he would give her a chance, they could have something great, again.

He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at them. But when he took his hands away, saw his wife standing there, half-fire, half-fear, for the first time in a month, he recognized her, as odd as it seemed. Not since they agreed to try this thing had he seen the pissed-off, fire-breathing Sarah he knew and loved like this, threatening to kick his ass, just like the old days. This wasn't the Stepford Sarah who'd been walking on eggshells around him for the past few days.

This really was her, not simply an act she was putting on for him. And the realization made his heart soar, put a stupid grin on his face.

"It's you, Sarah, standing right in front of me. It's always been you. So . . . are you calm enough that I can stand up and talk to you without getting my ass kicked?"

A matching grin on her face, she nodded, and the twinkle in her eyes changed from fear to hope.

"Maybe," she told him, a teasing note in her voice, "but if I hear the word 'deserve' one more time, I take it back."

Standing to face her, he said, "You know I loved you, and I know this is going to sound weird, but you're . . . you're open now, more affectionate, more playful. I like it." He paused. "That's not disrespectful to what we had before, is it?"

"No," she assured him quietly.

She had the sense that a major breakthrough had just occurred, that something fundamental had just changed between them.

"Come here," she requested with a little tip of her head, and she didn't have to ask twice.

His arms were around her in a second, holding her close. She threw her arms around his neck, dragged him down to her, closed her eyes and breathed him in.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "Sorry that I freaked out, sorry that I doubted you."

Threading her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, she answered, "Chuck, we beat the odds the first time, and we're gonna do it again this time." When he stiffened, she pulled away to slide a hand to his neck and look into his eyes. "I promise you, Chuck."

"And I trust you," he answered.

"Good," she nodded, pressing a short, soft kiss to his lips. "Then come on, let's go get ready for bed. We've had a long day."

x-x-x-x-x

As soon as Sarah was in the bedroom, she grabbed the wedding ring lying on her dresser and pushed it determinedly onto her finger. Her mom was right. She was done dancing around. She was Sarah Bartowski, and it was time to start acting like it.

She stared at her open closet with a huff. There were a number of sexy things hanging in there, things which were clearly designed to seduce her husband. Tonight, though, being seduced was not what he needed. He needed normal, a normal night with his wife. So she selected a plain yellow nightgown, the one she wore last night, the one Chuck said she usually wore.

As soon as she was in bed beside him, she lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling and forced herself to calm down a little. Once her heart rate was back to normal, she shifted against Chuck and into her favorite position. They had lots to talk about, lots to work through, but tonight's priority was to soak him in, to hold him until she couldn't figure out where she ended and he began.

But they still had a little ways to go to get things right between them, and she was in no mood to take chances.

Face buried in his t-shirt, she murmured, "You know talking's hard for me, so if I say something, will you hear me out?"

"Of course."

"I knew how I felt about you when I woke up this morning," she said quietly. "I can't explain it, but there are some things you just know deep down, and that was one of them. And I know that I belong right here, beside you. So even . . ." She licked her lips, then pressed on, "So even if I never remember another thing, this is as plain as I can say it: I love you. I can't imagine my life without you. And I need you to know that."

When her mom was right, she was right. It was as if someone had flicked on a switch, shedding light on them, sucking the tension right out of the room. It felt absolutely wonderful, a weight lifting off her, a fire setting alight in her heart.

Chuck pressed a kiss to her hair. He knew exactly how hard that was, which is exactly why it meant so much to him.

"Thank you," he said softly. "I love you, too."

Snuggling deeper into him, she requested, "Tell me a story, Chuck."

"Um, okay," he said, smiling as he pulled her close. "Anything in particular you want to hear?"

Fortunately, she didn't have to hide her grin from him. He'd just stepped directly into her trap. "Tell me about our first time."

Chuck frowned thoughtfully. She knew of Daniel Shaw, having read the mission reports, but he didn't want to ruin such a nice moment. Finally, he said, "It was in Paris. You could see the Eiffel Tower from our room."

"You took me to Paris?"

"It was a mission, actually," he confessed, "our first mission together after I was made an agent."

"So I wasn't your handler anymore?"

"No. The day before the mission, you finally admitted how you felt. But then you got drugged, and there was a really long night when I started to worry that you were never going to wake up."

She poked him in the chest. "Stop being modest."

"What?"

"I read that report, Chuck. You saved my life that night."

His shoulders twitched in a modest shrug. "You've saved me every day for five years. 'Bout time I returned the favor, wasn't it?" He smiled. "And believe me, I was pretty well rewarded."

"All right," she conceded with a chuckle, "so who made the first move? I'll bet I did, didn't I?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Just a feeling," she shrugged. She had a feeling she was always the one making the first move, and maybe that was something that should change as well. "So how'd I do it?"

"You told me to shut up and kiss you," he told her with a soft laugh. "I've learned it's best to comply when you take that particular tone."

"Good policy," she nodded. One fingertip traced a circle on his chest. "So . . . how was it?"

"It's not like I remember the details," he laughed. "I was a little too caught up in whether I was dreaming or not. I was almost too afraid to touch you, almost like you'd disappear if I did."

"That doesn't seem to work too well."

"I said 'almost', didn't I?"

Sarah chuckled. "So, we'd been waiting a long time. Was it everything we wanted?"

He ran a hand lightly up and down her arm and let out his breath in a long, slow whoosh. "It was . . . amazing. That night was a great memory, no question about that. But every time since then has been even more incredible."

"I guess we've had a lot of practice, then?"

"Yeah, you can say that."

"I wish I could remember it."

"You will someday," he assured her.

"I know," she said, nodding against his chest, "but honestly, listening to you is pretty great, too."

"Yeah, it is." He dropped another kiss to her temple. "It is for me too. You know, I'm really sorry you don't have that memory."

Sarah lifted her head from his chest and twisted to drape herself over him. "You know the best thing about memories?" she whispered.

"What's that?"

"You can always make new ones." She gazed down at him, running a thumb along his temple.

He swallowed thickly, then said, "Are you sure about this? It's sort of a point of no return."

She dipped her head down to press her lips gently against his. There had been many hotter kisses in their past, but this one spoke of warmth and need and promises. It spoke of the future.

"I'm sure," she murmured against his mouth. In fact, she had never been more certain of anything in her life.

They didn't need smoky letters in the sky, or words shouted from rooftops. What they needed was each other, and whispers in quiet moments, smiles and laughter strung together so that happiness could always be found.

"We are married, after all," she said. "No real reason to wait any longer."

The question remained in her eyes. Yes, they've been through hell, they've been forced to face more than any other married couple had to go through, but they were married. They still loved each other. No, she could see no reason to wait.

He slid a palm to her cheek, drew her down for another lingering kiss. "No," he answered, "no reason at all."

Before she could say another word, he wound his arms around her back and flipped them over. She couldn't remember this happening before, but she knew that it had, many times. He was right when he said they'd learned about each other, that it got better each time. Every single move he made was new to her, yet ingrained in her at the same time. She knew what he was thinking, where his hands would go, what he wanted from her. Every kiss, every touch, was perfect. Chuck in control was exciting, comforting, nothing short of magical.

She also knew that whatever tension had existed between them for the past month was now history. They were Chuck and Sarah Bartowski, married, fiercely in love. Good memories, bad memories, lack of memories – it really no longer mattered. They were now back to making their own memories.

x-x-x-x-x