A/N1 The Postlude.

Don't own Chuck.

Sarah vs. Omaha

POSTLUDE

Brave New World

The top was down. The Porsche was whining its way along the curvy coastal highway. Blonde hair, long and shiny, whipped in the wind. Sarah's sunglasses hid her eyes but nothing could hide her smile. Chuck sank blissfully into the bucket seat beside her, his own sunglasses allowing him to look at her beautiful, sunlit face without squinting or using his hand to shade his eyes.

He had put a heavy basket in the trunk, filled with food and champagne, a heavy blanket to put on the ground and a ring in a small, rectangular red box.

Yes, she had already said yes. Still, Chuck's heart threatened to stop each time he thought about asking, about putting the ring on her finger, about making it all real. Marriage. Partners. Sarah and Chuck. Chuck and Sarah.

Morgan had told Chuck of a place off-the-beaten-path, a place where no one could find them, where they could put the heavy blanket to other uses after picnicking. Chuck fully planned on doing just that. He had dreamed of her saying yes, of slipping the ring on her finger and then of being clutched warmly inside her, his wife-to-be. She was the meaning of his life.

ooOoo

Sarah had transferred from the Company to the NSA, but she still had her spy skills, of course. She knew that the small, rectangular red box was in the basket. She knew what it meant. Under her shirt and jeans, she had a surprise for her husband to be, underwear tiny and red for him to remove when the time was right, as part of the celebration, as part of making love to her. He would pop like the champagne. She adjusted herself in the driver's seat as the image filled her mind. She had been daydreaming about this day, and she was...eager. So very eager. She unconsciously pushed harder on the accelerator, eager to be alone with Chuck, in her red next-to-nothing, alone in the sunlight, alone in love.

Him wearing her and only her. Her husband-to-be. He was her gift.

She felt full, full of life, full of love, full of so much, a cornucopia.

ooOoo

Chuck's picnic mix clicked over to a new song. Marshall Crenshaw's Hold It. Song playing, Chuck singing along, they found the spot Morgan told them about, and the hidden entrance in the trees alongside the road.

Hold it, try to remember
Hold it, hold on tight forever
To your life and love every night and day
Hold on and don't let it slip away

She pulled the Porsche in, checking the rearview to make sure that no one would see it from the road. As she shut it off, Chuck bounded out and retrieved the basket. He waited for her and took her hand. They walked for a little while, again trusting Morgan's directions. After passing along a pathway barely detectable, they emerged in a breathtaking spot in the sun. Chuck spread the blanket and Sarah sat down cross-legged on it.

He surprised her. She turned to take some of the food out of the basket, and he was beside her with the ring box open. She pushed herself up onto her knees and, kneeling, took the ring from the box; Chuck took it from her and slid it on her finger. He said nothing; she said nothing. They both knew. They had already said the words, texted them, anyway. They were vowed to each other.

They kissed warm, long and slow. When they pulled apart, Chuck yanked the champagne bottle out and popped the cork on it. He poured her a glass in a clear plastic flute and one for himself. He held hers out to her, the golden champagne trembling as his hand trembled, trembled in happiness. The hand she extended trembled for the same reason.

"Your champagne, Mrs. Bartowski."

A/N2 I was taking out time to play Marshall Crenshaw's Hold It and Michael Penn's Brave New World on the guitar as I wrote this. Think of the first of those songs as the playing during the Postlude, the second over these credits.

My thanks to David Carner and WvonB for lots of pre-reading (at a ridiculous pace). They were helpful and kind. And of course, they are to blame for nothing. Thanks to those of you who reviewed, especially the frequent reviewers. You have been an integral part of my writing process. Those of you I have PMed frequently: thanks much!

Maybe I will see you around! As I said the last chapter, love to hear your parting thoughts! Even if you are reading this well after I finished it.