A/N: One hundred years later, the author pulls the parchment up from beneath the pile of her other work, blows the layers of dust off the surface, and smiles. "Hello, old friend."

I'm so dramaaatic. But seriously, it's been FOREVER, hasn't it? OH DEAR GOD! A YEAR! I just looked and a year! I AM SO SORRY! Technically a year and one week but...I'll stop digging myself deeper into this ridiculously deep hole. Hehehe. Hehe.

Honestly. Seriously. Thank you SO MUCH to everyone still here. Everyone who sees the alert in their inbox and feels that thrill, I love you. Everyone who reads this and actually takes the time to review, I love you. You're all wonderful human beings and I can't express how much I appreciate your support. It's my lifeblood, it truly is. Thank you.

Disclaimer: I still don't own this beautiful show or its characters. And I'm not being paid for this story. Damn shame. Since I'm poor.

Summary: In 1776, George Washington declared himself King of the United States of America and began turning a new nation into the United States Empire: expanding to the west, amassing colonies, and gaining power. Over one hundred years later, the government's secrets are at risk and a new way to keep them safe must be created. When those secrets are accidentally brought to inventor and toy maker Chuck Bartowski's doorstep, his future becomes uncertain as his life fills with adventures, hardships, and even a bit of romance.

Here's a few things you might need to know, or maybe you just forgot...

Sarah and Chuck found an old postcard Bryce sent Chuck from San Diego. Chuck flashed on it and found out that Bryce had been there for a mission. Not only that, they've got Agent Larkin's old address. (Thanks, Intersect! Ya bastard!) Meanwhile, Bryce had a bit of a...erm...run in with some of the Inquisitor's henchmen and they were definitely not normal.

Okay, have fun!

"This don't mean he's still there," John Casey grumbled, dropping Bryce's postcard on his work table and crossing his arms. "This is postmarked 1892, for God's sake. Larkin's a spy. He isn't gonna be in a place like this for more'n a week, a month at the most, maybe even a few months. Four years? Not a chance. It's a dead end."

"Maybe not," Chuck piped up.

"You know somethin', toy boy?"

Chuck sent his assistant and personal bounty hunter a glare, realizing he would probably never get John Casey to drop that particular nickname. He crossed his arms to mimic Casey's pose and noticed distantly that Morgan had approached and was standing beside them in the same fashion.

"Not certainly, no. But what if he left something behind?"

"He's a spy. Spies don't leave things behind. Walker, do you leave things behind?" Casey asked, turning to Sarah who had heretofore been quiet and contemplative.

Her eyes flicked up from the postcard to look at him through her eyelashes. She pursed her lips and shrugged one shoulder. "Of course not. But I'm not a spy. I'm a con artist."

"May I intercede?" Morgan raised a single brass finger.

"No."

Morgan opened his mouth and the gears in his head whirred. "I cannot tell if your answer is serious, Major Casey. Or are you releasing your frustrations by growling words again?"

Chuck heard a soft choking sound come from Sarah's direction and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling when Casey turned his wide-eyed, snarling visage to stare at the android. The toy maker thought it best to control the situation by giving Morgan the answer he needed, setting a hand on his tweed jacket shoulder. "Go ahead, Morgan."

"San Diego is one of the world's most important and busiest international border crossings. And its port is the site of a great deal of California's international trade. Also, I should add, their tuna fishing and canning industry has been booming in the last few years. Tourism is at an all-time high."

"Your point being?" Chuck asked, watching as his mechanical friend rubbed the makeshift beard on his chin.

"There are plenty of reasons for an intelligence agency such as the Imperial Espionage League to station its agents there."

"They like tuna?" Casey asked sarcastically.

Morgan immediately turned to Chuck. "Was that sarcasm? Or does Major Casey actually want to know if they like tuna? I cannot possibly understand why he would think that I would know that about humans I have never met."

Chuck cleared his throat. "Don't worry about it, Morgan. Keep going."

"Tuna is actually what I was going to say. Anything that creates a good amount of revenue is fair game for criminal organizations. Just last week, the Juggernaut had an article about the Empire's growing interest in oil production and it was accompanied by an editorial from a professor who predicted increased crime in the industry. It's all in here." Dink dink! He tapped his head with his tin forefinger twice.

"What does this have to do with Bryce, Morgan?" Chuck asked. Even though Morgan's information was beginning to click in his mind, part of the inventor wondered if Morgan was suffering from a bit of an ego at the moment. He seemed to be enjoying the attention he was receiving. Strange, that.

"Perhaps Agent Bryce did not leave anything behind, or perhaps he did. Either way, he was sent there for some reason and it isn't a stretch for any mind, least of all my brilliant mechanical mind, to surmise that reason may still be there."

Casey's grunt permeated the silence and Chuck smirked to himself at how perfectly Morgan played his part, without even realizing he had a part to play. Morgan's knowledge in this entire situation was hazy at best. He didn't know about the Intersect because Chuck and Sarah had decided that no one, not even an android, could be trusted with a secret this important and this massive. However, both Casey's identity as a bounty hunter and Sarah's as a con artist were known to the mechanical man. Perhaps it was unwise. But Casey had slipped in front of Morgan after San Francisco, forgetting that the mechanical man was more than just an inanimate object. There was no way Chuck could take that information out of Morgan's bank now that it was there.

They had simply been lucky enough that Ellie's schedule at the clinic had made it difficult for her to come to the Buy More in the last few weeks. There was something else though that Chuck couldn't put his finger on. It was almost as though there was some sort of humanistic understanding in the android that this information he had been given about his inventor's human companions was important to them. Important to Chuck.

And there were moments when Chuck could see the android struggling to understand things, struggling to make himself more human. It seemed impossible when he thought about it logically. But the Intersect hadn't seemed possible either until it was forcibly jammed into his brain.

Perhaps Morgan could be trusted with Chuck's secret. But he wasn't convinced.

"Maybe there's a trail we can follow from there," Sarah said.

Casey let out yet another grunt, staring at the ground thoughtfully. Chuck bit back a sigh of relief as the bounty hunter straightened and said, "I s'pose it can't hurt."

Morgan backed away from them, clunking out of the workshop and into the front of the store to close it down for the evening. Chuck sent a silent, grateful look over his shoulder at his android friend's back. He certainly didn't know it, but Morgan had aided Chuck and Sarah in a large way.

"What about your sister, Bartowski? You gonna tell 'er you have another business meeting? She's smart enough to know it's bullshit." There was a tinge of what looked to Chuck like satisfaction in the bounty hunter's face, as though he somewhat respected Eleanor Woodcomb for her perceptiveness.

"I will take care of it," Sarah said and Chuck blinked at her.

"Take care of it how?"

"I don't know yet, but if we don't get a move on we will be late for dinner and your sister is serious about timeliness. And I still have to change out of this ridiculous uniform." Sarah gathered her coat from the chair she had draped it over and slid it on over her shoulders, buttoning it over her uniform. Chuck had grown accustomed to said uniform, and while it was rather campy, to say the least, he was fond of it. Perhaps it was the pervading memories of the times he had spent in the Aviator's Timepiece before San Francisco. Before his life had gone to hell in a hand basket.

}o{

Chuck jumped as he felt something hit his leg under the table, looking up from his plate of almost untouched food and blinking at his sister at the opposite corner of the table. She looked confused and maybe even slightly amused. And then he turned his head to look at Sarah who sat directly across from him. When she widened her eyes a little, the toy maker realized it had been her foot that had kicked him, and he made a bit of a face at her.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

"We're all very aware of that, Chuck," Ellie said, dabbing her lips with her napkin. "I asked you whether you finished those buttons you said you would make. For the Coalition?"

He shook his head of the cobwebs and dug into the roast with his knife and fork. "Yes. Well, one batch at least."

"Good."

Silence fell over the table again as everyone ate the delicious meal.

Chuck had dropped Sarah off at her home in the carriage so that she might change for dinner, hurrying home to clean himself up a bit as well. By the time he wore a nice, clean suit and helped Ellie finish setting the table for the foursome, Sarah showed up in a pale blue, simple dress that made her eyes resemble what he thought the sky might look from the deck of an airship flying above the soot layer.

The shy, slightly besotted look that must have been on his face when he answered the door worked to sell their cover to his sister and brother-in-law, as must have the affectionate look Sarah sent back as she'd straightened his tie and complimented his appearance. The only difference was that she had been acting, and he—as was painfully obvious to him now—had not been. Not in the slightest.

Now they sat to their meal, the conversation light and airy, but without the shallowness of the dinners he had sat through with the elder Woodcombs. The vacuous comments about the fabric of Eleanor's gown, and oh dear, you should visit my seamstress, she might be able to do something about that for you. The politically grating conversations between Devon's brothers and his father.

Instead, Ellie updated them on how things were going with the movement to grant women the legal right to earn a license to practice as full physicians in the state of California. Not that he wasn't fully invested in fighting alongside his sister to help her reach her goal, to fulfill her dream…But he had so much on his mind, it was difficult to keep it from wandering.

He strove to pay attention as Sarah interrupted the silence at the table.

"The way I see it, Ellie, is that this entire coalition shouldn't even be necessary." Chuck sent her a look, which she dutifully ignored. "In a just world, there are no coalitions. Because everyone is treated the way they ought to be treated by the governing powers. Equally; whether they be man or woman. No matter what they look like, where they come from, who they are, how they are."

Chuck found himself staring at her, his roast, potatoes and brussel sprouts forgotten as the conviction with which she spoke seeped into his heart, settled in his bones, and filled him with hope. Hope for what, he didn't know, but there it was anyway. And it was the first time he felt anything akin to that in weeks.

"You're fighting for something you should already have. And that's not right," Sarah finished, bashfully looking down at her plate and smoothing her napkin on her lap.

Chuck felt Devon, who sat to his left, lean close and mutter in his ear. "Brother, you had better keep this one. Because if you don't, Ellie surely will. And then you'll be disowned." His brother-in-law elbowed him in the rib good-naturedly, his beaming grin teasing and blissfully ignorant of the complicated nature of what he just proposed.

Nevertheless, Chuck let out a nervous laugh and cleared his throat, looking up to see his sister set a hand on Sarah's shoulder and smile warmly.

"You have been very helpful in that fight, Sarah. I can't thank you enough."

Sarah blushed and shook her head. "Oh, I haven't done anything. Not really."

"You stood in the heat beside my fellow nurses and myself for an entire Saturday, handing out flyers and pins to forward the cause." Then his sister shook her head and went back to her food with something of a voracious appetite. Eleanor Bartowski Woodcomb could eat like a lion after one of her shifts at the hospital, and even though she had always been that way, it would never cease to amaze him. Even Sarah seemed to look over with a bit of awe coloring her beautiful features.

Ellie seemed ignorant of the stares, instead guzzling some beer and swallowing. "Enough about what I'm up to, though. I feel as though I've talked for hours…"

"You have," Chuck teased, earning a glare from both women across the table. Devon laughed and the glare turned on him, sending the poor surgeon into a miniature fit of apoplexy. Or at least, that was how it seemed as he went red in the face and choked a little on a potato. Chuck thumped him on his back. "Sorry, El."

She just rolled her eyes and smirked, before turning to Sarah. "What about you, Sarah? How are you finding our city? Is it to your liking, or are you still settling in?"

"It has its charms, though it's…very different from what I've been used to. Admittedly." She smiled a bit self-deprecatingly and took a large swallow of beer. "Chuck—and-and you both as well—have made the transition much easier, thank God. It's difficult when you're mostly alone and in a new place."

"You don't have family here?" Devon asked, passing Chuck a rosemary roll. Strange, Chuck couldn't remember asking his brother-in-law to pass it, but he had been staring at them, trying to decide if he wanted another. The decision had been made for him, he mused as he took a large bite out of it.

"No. No, just my—Well, I have an elderly aunt who resides in San Diego."

Chuck stopped chewing, looking at Sarah. She met his gaze steadily.

"Actually, I only met her once. I was just a child and I can't even remember anything but-but her incredibly strong perfume. Her health is not terribly good right now and my cousin sent me a letter asking me to go look after her until they arrive."

"Oh! Sarah, I'm so sorry to hear that. Will she be alright?" Ellie asked, setting a comforting hand on Sarah's arm.

"I'm not sure. I won't know until I get there, unfortunately."

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Chuck asked, finding his voice.

The warm smile she sent across the table only made him more nervous, and he wasn't exactly sure why. He knew she was attempting to reassure him, but all of this was a blatant falsehood. Sarah didn't have family. Or…did she? His mind was racing, his heart beating in his chest. He couldn't do this. He couldn't improvise on the spot, lying to his family.

Was this real?

Of course it wasn't real. She was playing them. And she was so good that for a moment, she had even fooled him. As impressive as it was, it also made him feel…upset seemed too general a word, but it was the only thing he could think of at the moment.

"That's very kind, Chuck. I truly appreciate it. But I-I'm sure everything will be fine. I'll take a few days to get my affairs straightened out and take the train to San Diego."

"By yourself?" Devon asked.

Sarah seemed a bit confused at his question, then smiled a bit. "Of course."

"But does your aunt have a nurse? Anyone else there to help you?" Ellie asked.

"No, that is why I'm going. Otherwise she would be alone." Sarah paused as Devon and Ellie exchanged a worried look over the table, and Chuck saw the young waitress (and actual con artist) affect not to notice as she nervously fiddled with her fork. "I must admit, though, after not seeing her for such a long time, and hearing about how…Well, my cousin wrote me and said she can be quite cantankerous, my aunt. Perhaps even senile."

Chuck felt himself begin to choke a little on his roll, so he grabbed his beer and drowned the urge, earning a subtle warning look from Sarah.

"Oh, Sarah, this sounds like it will be a very difficult job for you on your own. Is she mobile, your aunt?"

"Mobile?"

"She means, can she walk on her own?" Devon helped.

"Oh!" Chuck saw a sparkle in her eye for just a moment. "No," she said a moment later. "No, I'm afraid she uses a chair. For some time now."

"And you're supposed to take care of her on your own? Oh, Sarah. That's a lot to ask of you." Ellie's lips turned down in concern.

"Family," Sarah shrugged. "I may not remember my aunt, but she is family. Family is important. And besides," she shot a look over Chuck's way, her lips twitching in a shy smile, "There is no one else in the family even near California. Who else could I ask to help me?"

"Me."

Chuck felt three pairs of eyes on him as he looked down at his plate. He felt burning in his chest now that he had spoken up. None of this sat well with him. But he supposed he had better get used to it. He looked up to Sarah's wide-eyed gaze and smiled. "You have me to help you."

"Chuck…"

He waved her off. "I can't let you make that trip alone. Not that you aren't capable. But if your aunt is as poorly as your cousin indicated in the letter you spoke of, you will need someone else there to help you. I volunteer to be that someone else."

Chuck swallowed the lump in his throat, turning to Ellie, who gaped at him shamelessly. "Don't you agree, Ellie? It would be much too trying for her on her own. And once your cousin arrives, Sarah, I can accompany you back."

"Chuck, I couldn't possibly ask you to do that. That is—That is so kind of you to offer, but you have the Buy More…"

"The Buy More will be fine," Ellie put in, sending Chuck a proud look, brimming in happiness. "Not to pry, but if Chuck could take a six day trip up to San Francisco to meet a client without it hurting his business…" She accompanied that with a flat look he didn't much appreciate. "…Surely he can take a few days…?"

"It would only be a few. Just until my cousin can get over to San Diego," Sarah answered.

"The Buy More will be fine," she repeated. "Right, Chuck?"

"Right!" He grinned, probably a bit too widely.

"Really, thank you. All of you are too kind, but I can't—Chuck, I can't ask you to do this for me. This is too much. Not just accompanying me all the way into San Diego, but helping me care for my elderly aunt?" Sarah shook her head vehemently, a look on her face that didn't leave room for argument. He knew it was part of the play, though, so he kept pushing.

"I insist."

She looked at him a little wide-eyed and he wondered if perhaps he had been a tad intense just then, but then her face melted into a grateful smile. "I suppose…if you insist."

"He does," Ellie added, and Chuck felt worse when she looked incredibly proud of him. "Then it's settled. When are you catching the train? Devon or I can take you to the station."

"That won't be necessary," Chuck and Sarah said simultaneously. Chuck blushed as Sarah took over. "Please, I'm already inconveniencing your family enough as it is. It won't be for a few days. I have to finish my shifts at the Aviator's Timepiece, else I'll be fired. And then I'd be no help at all to anyone."

The rest of dinner went smoothly, Ellie glowing for reasons Chuck could only guess at. He was almost certain she thought this trip would cement his relationship with Sarah Walker, that his offer to help the waitress and her aunt was his attempt at acting on his feelings, like they had discussed after he returned from San Francisco. He would let her bask in her assumptions for now, only because it would become much too complicated if he didn't. But he would have to find a way to set her straight again when they returned from San Diego. At this rate, the cover would include marriage, and he couldn't do it. There was no way he would do that to Sarah, and he couldn't do it to himself. He wouldn't last a day married to Sarah Walker.

By the time they stood up from the table to help Ellie with dishes, he felt a bit like he was drowning, like he couldn't catch his breath. He needed to get out into the fresh air—if that was what you could call it—and away from his family. And he felt it all the more when he realized he had never actively wanted to get away from his family before the Intersect.

This was all so awful and unfair and he hated it. He hated everything.

"Chuck?"

He realized he was standing with a stack of plates in his hands, blocking the doorway that led to the kitchen. Ellie was behind him, giving him a concerned look.

"Sorry!" He hurried into the kitchen to put the plates down, but she didn't follow.

Instead she turned back towards the dining room. "Devon, why don't you take Sarah into the study and find her a book that might help her with her aunt. You can borrow them for as long as you need to, Sarah. Good reading material for your train ride."

"Absolutely grand idea, Ellie. My wife is brimming with grand ideas. I can't even keep up half the time…"

Devon's voice faded a little as he and Sarah undoubtedly walked further into the house towards the study, and then Chuck felt Ellie at his shoulder. "Why are you so nervous all of a sudden, Chuck?"

"What? Nervous? Me? No." He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and pumped water in to fill the sink.

"You're ridiculous, you know that? The strangest mood swings these days. First you do an incredibly sweet and admirable thing, offering to accompany Sarah to care for her aunt, and then you turn into a buffoon—"

"I am not a buffoon," he hissed over his shoulder as he handed her the plate he just cleaned so that she could try it with the dish towel in her hands.

"You're rather acting like one. Are you regretting making the offer?"

"What? I—"

"Chuck, come on. Talk to me. I'm asking you seriously. I'm not judging you either way."

"That's not it. It's just that…" He felt heavy as he realized he would have to be the one who planted the final seed of the ruse. "I'm trying to decide whether it's prudent for Sarah and I to…" He looked over his shoulder at the door then leaned closer, handing her another wet plate. "To travel alone together. Just the two of us. We aren't courting, but no one else would know that who came into contact with us. And obviously we aren't married, because we have no rings. And you know how people are."

She blew out an annoyed huff of air, ruffling the loose hair at her forehead. "Yes, unfortunately I know all too well what they would assume. Of course she would get the derisive looks and not you."

He shrugged. It wasn't the way it ought to be, but it was the way it was. So to speak.

"That is rather an issue," she admitted, thoughtfully drying a fork.

"I was thinking I would ask John to come as well." She nearly dropped the fork and spun to regard him as though he had just sprouted a horn from his forehead. "He wouldn't have to help Sarah's aunt, of course, but if he traveled with us as a chaperone…"

"Do you really believe that man would do that for you?"

Chuck pursed his lips. "Why wouldn't he?"

"Because he isn't your friend. I daresay he doesn't even like you."

"What? That's not—He likes me."

Ellie snorted and smacked him affectionately in the shoulder with her towel. "You are sweet, Charles Irving. You think everyone you meet is charmed by you." She giggled.

"Not everyone," he teased.

She continued giggling. "Does he even like anyone, that assistant of yours? The poor man always has a look on his face as though he's just swallowed a cactus."

He chortled shortly, handing her the last serving dish to dry. "That was very apt. Might I use that in the future?"

"Be my guest, though…don't say it to him. I'd like to celebrate your twenty-eighth birthday with you." She wrinkled her nose and knuckled his shoulder gently.

They were silent for a few moments, the deep rumble of Devon's voice muffled from the study pervading said silence as Ellie finished drying, folding the towel beside the sink, and turning to lean back against the counter to regard her younger brother closely.

"Chuck, why did you offer to take Sarah to San Diego? Are you attempting to romance her? Because…" She paused, chewing her lip thoughtfully before turning her face to look into his eyes again. "Because if that's the case, maybe you shouldn't do it."

He jolted a bit at that. "What?"

"This isn't just a vacation, Chuck. You will be going on this journey with her for a few days, helping her with her elderly aunt who is sick with who knows what illness…I just want to make sure you know what sort of an undertaking that is. If you're just doing it because you want her to have feelings for you like you do for her, that's the wrong reason. And you're going to be miserable." She gave him a pointed look.

Chuck shook his head. "I'm—I'm not…"

"I'm serious. You do this because it's the right thing to do. Not because you want that girl in there to fall in love with you." Thankfully, she lowered her voice to a whisper for the last part, just in case Devon and Sarah entered the kitchen anytime soon.

"I'm doing it because she needs help, Ellie," he lied. But in his defense, the entire cockamamy thing was a lie. Upon second thought, that wasn't much of a defense. "She can't go down there alone. With me and John there, she will probably feel more at ease with the situation. Especially because she said her aunt is cantankerous."

Ellie smiled at him, her eyes sparkling. "You do have a way with the cantankerous old ladies, brother of mine."

He made a face. "Don't even say things like that."

"What?" she laughed.

"No! It just—That made it sound really unsettling—"

"Well, Miss Walker here is all stocked up with—Oh I'm sorry, am I interrupting?" Devon asked as he strode into the kitchen with Sarah in tow, three books tucked under her arm.

"No, Devon. Ellie is just being gross."

Devon sent his wife a wink. "Ooo, pray tell."

Chuck threw his hands up. "Lord save me. That is absolutely my cue to leave. Miss Walker, shall I walk you home?"

She glanced over his shoulder, most likely to exchange an amused look with his sister, before nodding. "Thank you."

They said their goodbyes, Ellie going a step further and wrapping her arms around Sarah's shoulders and pulling her in for a tight hug, wishing her and her aunt well in case she didn't see her before they left for San Diego.

Chuck watched Sarah's face closely, looking for any hint of guilt at the lies they had told here tonight, but she was just as shyly pleased as always. There wasn't even a twinge.

Disappointed, and attempting to hide it from her, he took the books from her and offered her his arm was they walked through the fence in front of the house and turned onto the sidewalk.

}o{

The cool air at her cheek was a blessing. Not that the Woodcomb residence was overly warm. Ellie Woodcomb, on the other hand…Well it wasn't fair to label her as "overly" warm, but she was certainly very warm. So warm that the hug she had given Sarah left her feeling things she hadn't been expecting.

It was such a caring gesture, supportive and reassuring and comforting all at once. It wasn't something she expected a woman to do—hug her brother's significant other who had only been around for a few months. Was she his significant other? No, Chuck said that he told Ellie they weren't courting after all. Didn't he? And that made the hug even more unusual.

The one thing she had not foreseen was how much guilt she would feel after that dinner. As she strolled at Chuck's side, clinging to his arm in the pervading silence that settled between them, she felt the guilt stinging at her chest. Was it because of the lie she told Ellie? That couldn't be it. She lied every day. She had been lying since she was a child. She could always justify lying, especially if it was in her best interest.

Then was it because Chuck had lied to his sister again? This time, however, he seemed to take more initiative in the lie. She should be impressed and proud of him for selling their story so well. Instead she just felt…empty.

Emptier than usual.

With that bitter thought wedged in her brain, she turned to look at Chuck. The look on his face resembled the way she was feeling, and she couldn't have that. "Chuck? Talk to me."

"Hm?" His face stayed in the same broody, pensive state.

"I said talk to me."

Chuck's jaw clenched and he moved his amber gaze to meet her gray-blue one. "It's nothing. The same as always." She thought for a moment that he was lying. It was something different. But perhaps she was making assumptions. "I don't like doing this. Lying to my family."

"I know you don't."

"So I should stop complaining about it," he said in a flat voice, and it wasn't a question as much as he was attempting to finish her statement for her. Erroneously.

"That isn't what I was going to say at all."

"Is that so?"

"Remember how I told you sarcasm doesn't suit you?" she asked. "Neither does being sardonic and bitter."

He just scoffed and shook his head, before letting his chin fall to his chest, stopping completely in the middle of the sidewalk. She dropped her arms to her sides and moved to stand in front of him as he took a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. "I know I complain too much at you. I really am sorry."

When Chuck raised his eyes to meet hers, she believed him. Her lips twitched in a semblance of a smile.

"It isn't right," he continued.

"What isn't right?"

"Lying to Ellie. It isn't the right thing to do. It isn't right to lie to the people you love."

"Even if you're keeping them safe, Chuck?"

"Meanwhile, I'm robbing her of making that choice for herself. She deserves to know what's happened to me. And by keeping it from her, I feel like I'm disrespecting her." Sarah shook her head, feeling a bit lost. He sighed, pressing his lips together, before continuing. "She's a grown woman. She can handle this. I know she can. She's strong. She deserves more credit than this."

"Chuck, sometimes we have to make decisions for the ones we love to protect them, to keep them safe. That's what this is."

"Have you ever had to do that?"

Sarah rocked back on her heels, wrapping her arms around herself and looking away from him. "I don't know what you mean."

"Have you ever had to make a decision for someone you loved to keep them safe? Even if it meant shirking them of their ability to choose for themselves?" he asked in a soft voice. Such a soft voice. It felt like he was wrapping her up in a warm blanket even while his words stung.

Because the truth was that she hadn't. She wasn't qualified even in the slightest to talk about what was or wasn't right concerning loved ones. She had no loved ones. And she couldn't remember a time when she had had loved ones. There was perhaps Jack Burton, but his abandonment had stymied the potential for love between them years ago.

"This isn't about me." She felt stupid as she said it, but rushed on nevertheless. "If you think you can protect her from Casey, from the government, from whatever else is out there that wants what's in your head, then so be it. You can turn around right now and tell her the truth. Tell her everything."

His eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really."

But his feet stayed rooted to the ground. She decided to drop her walls for just a moment, because she knew that if he saw that, he would be more likely to comply with her wishes. Sarah Walker had never felt so incredibly low as she did at that moment, but she swallowed and continued on anyways, if only because this was the best way she could think to protect him.

She reached out to take his hand in hers, stroking the back of it with her thumb. "But I have to tell you. She will be much safer if she doesn't know about the Intersect. If she doesn't know about Bryce. About…" She swallowed. "About me, Chuck. She can't know about me."

Her conscience pricked at her heart then, insisting this was true but not for the reason Sarah was telling herself. It was a much more selfish reason. She liked Ellie, her conscience argued. And if Ellie knew the truth about her, the bond that had formed between them would be severed. It was a bond made of lies and false sentiments and even some manipulation…but it was a bond, Sarah protested. It was a bond!

"I know," Chuck whispered finally, and she wouldn't have heard it at all if a breeze hadn't wafted his voice into her ears. "It still isn't right."

She took his other hand and stepped closer, staring up into his face and giving him a bittersweet, serious look. This was what he needed so she would give it to him. This closeness. And she cut off whatever else she was going to think after that.

"Sometimes we have to do things that are wrong, Chuck. Because in the end, it means things turn out alright. Does that make sense?"

"For the greater good." It was almost bitter, the way he had said it, his face twisting at his own words. But then there was resignation there, the realization that what she said was most likely true. "You're right. I won't tell her, Sarah. You don't have to worry…"

He didn't continue, though she felt him hovering on that last word.

Sarah tilted her head and gazed up at him, waiting for him to meet her eyes in the lamplight and rolling fog from the Pacific. "For now, you mean." She smiled a little when he did. "I'll take what I can get, Chuck Bartowski."

And then he stood up to his full height, his hat only making him that much taller, and his handsome face softened a little. "As will I, Sarah Walker."

Something told her there had been something else in his words, something that didn't pertain to the conversation at hand. But she refused to dwell on it, and instead, she squeezed his hands and tucked her arms back into his, leading him down the sidewalk in a comfortable silence again until they reached her home a few minutes later.

He walked her back around McLeod's house, down the pathway that ended at her own rooms. Just as they reached her door, Chuck gently pulled her back and turned her to face him, before he realized his hand was on her arm and dropped it to his side quickly. She ignored the two pink spots on his cheeks. Because it was really for the best to do so. For so many reasons.

"Sarah, I'm sorry for giving you so much trouble."

"You don't really. Not awfully, that is." She smiled. Because he needed to see it. And for no other reason.

"That's kind of you. But—Um, you should know I managed to explain why Casey will be going with us to San Diego."

That surprised her. "I—Honestly, I forgot about that part. What did you say?"

"I'm afraid if we travel together, just the two of us, that people might make assumptions about you. Assumptions that aren't fair. Because we're a man and a woman traveling together, no rings on our fingers. And I don't want you to have to deal with their rude and presumptuous stares and derisiveness."

As he shrugged, she spent a moment musing on how intelligent the toy maker really was. It was easy to assume he was just playing the part, like he knew she wanted him to. But Sarah knew inherently that he had only thought of the explanation because he was by nature extremely thoughtful, and blessed with strong foresight.

Once again, Agent Larkin couldn't have been more wrong about his boyhood friend.

"Masterful, Chuck. Well done."

In spite of everything that had happened tonight, the pleased smile he gave her at that, with a tinge of pride and confidence, lifted her spirits significantly. "Thank you."

"And don't worry. We will go to San Diego on Friday, take a quick look around at the place where Bryce stayed four years ago, and be back on Saturday. We can say my cousin took a nonstop flight and arrived earlier than I had thought she would." She gave him a smile that seemed to bolster his spirits a bit.

"Alright."

There was a sudden bang from Mister McLeod's house and they both spun towards the sound, Sarah's fingers poised at the sleeve that hid one of her knives. It was just the older man himself, hobbling out with a large lantern clutched in his fist. "Is this whipper-snapper bothering you, Miss Walker?" he asked, his face illuminated by the light.

"No, Mister McLeod. This is Ch—Mister Bartowski. Remember? My friend?"

He glared for a moment, then let out a hmph. "Oh, yes. Evening, young man."

"Good evening, Mister McLeod," her escort chirped, self-consciously running a hand down the front of his suit. "How is your grandfather clock working? Have you had anymore trouble with it?"

The elderly man smacked his lips a little and ran his free hand over his wispy hair. "Nope. No more'n I usually do. Tick-tickin' like always."

"Good. That's very good."

The three of them stood there in the dark yard and crispy makeshift garden, the only light besides the dim glow of the moon attempting to break through the cloud covering being McLeod's lantern.

"Well, goodnight Sa—Good evening, Miss Walker. Thank you for coming to—attending dinner. With me. And my sister. And my sister's husband—my brother-in-law. Because there were four of us. Having dinner. Thank you for—Goodnight. Sleep well." She was afraid for a moment that he would literally combust on the spot, but then he swept her hands up in both of his, and brought them to his lips.

Before she could even respond, he was off, tipping his hat to McLeod as he swept past him. "Goodnight, Mr. McLeod!" he said over his shoulder before disappearing around the house.

Her landlord turned back to her and made a face. "You better be careful with him, Miss Walker. He's a strange one." And then he ducked into his back door and left her alone on her porch, her hands still clasped in front of her where Chuck had dropped them, the skin of her hand prickling where he had pressed his lips.

"He certainly is," she said quietly to no one in particular.

}o{

Friday morning came all too soon for Sarah Walker, and yet it also felt like it had taken much too long to arrive, though she blamed that part on John Casey. The constant grumbling about whether or not they should go to San Diego in the first place was almost too much for her to take. Chuck, she decided, must have the patience of a saint. Unless he had made a habit of sending Casey to deliver Buy More goods to more lonely old women.

She snorted softly to herself as she peeked across the aisle at the bounty hunter who sat on his own, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes dropping tiredly. And then she glanced to her right at Chuck who stared out of the window at the passing scenery. The tracks had been built along the coastline so that everyone on the right side of the train could see the Pacific Ocean in all its glory.

Chuck's eyes were unfocused and she realized he must be lost in thought or perhaps a memory of sometime in his past, or someone. Or perhaps he was even nervous about what awaited them in San Diego, and for that matter, what awaited them after San Diego.

Sarah was almost certain that nothing at all awaited them in San Diego except for a room in a lodging house where Bryce had lived for who knows how long. They had to have a plan to move forward with Casey. It was a fluke that they had found that postcard amidst Chuck's old photographs that he had stolen from the orphanage.

Her thoughts derailed then. He's a strange one.

Mister McLeod wasn't wrong about that. Not even in the slightest. But her elderly landlord was attempting to look out for her, and he didn't know the half of it.

So many times now she had thought she figured the toy maker out. At least to a certain point. But he was hard in some places and soft in others—then he would turn around and be soft in the hard places and hard in the soft places. The worst of it was his complete candidness with her. When she asked him to talk to her the other night, he had. He had laid it all in front of her. There was no specific moment in which he asked for her advice, but the way he offered his worries and his doubts about their secrecy…Sarah knew he was asking for reassurance. He was asking her.

And the amount of trust he must have in her left the con woman feeling fidgety for the rest of that night and into the next day. She felt fidgety even now. No one had ever trusted her. There was never any question of loyalty—because in a lot of ways, loyalty required trust, which didn't exist. Not where a con artist was concerned. She didn't count the marks who had trusted her enough to let her get where she needed to be in order to rob them blind. They didn't trust her. They didn't trust Sarah Walker. They trusted the persona she had made up.

Chuck had trusted Sarah Walker the waitress. He had trusted her enough to jump on a train headed for San Francisco after Casey attacked her in her home. He had trusted her more than he had trusted a man he had known longer than he had known her. It was easy to understand. She had saved him once in that alleyway, they had spent a great deal of time together. He liked her. Sarah had chalked that up to her acting talents at the time.

But now he knew the truth. Maybe he didn't know every truth, but he knew the important one. She wasn't a waitress, or an agent with the Imperial Espionage League. She was a con artist, a criminal, a murderer.

And yet…he still trusted her. Who knew what the Intersect had shown him—what atrocities existed in that bank of information compiled by the Empire's top agents, government officials and archivists? What atrocities were attributed to the Ice Queen, she wondered?

And how in the hell did Chuck Bartowski still look to her for guidance?

There was a hidden message in that question's answer, something she wasn't prepared to decipher. So instead, she mused on his behavior once McLeod came out to find the young "couple" outside of Sarah's door.

In those short, awkward moments, it had almost felt as though Chuck were actually her escort, as though this whole relationship wasn't a charade to fool everyone. As though it were real. His blushing and the quick babbling. His need to assure McLeod that there had been two other people at the table with them when they ate dinner together. As though he were speaking to her father upon bringing her back before curfew.

It was incredibly awkward. But she smiled now as she thought about it.

When she had washed for bed after Chuck's departure, she caught herself staring at her hand where the toy maker had kissed it spur of the moment. It hadn't been the typical, gentlemanly hand kiss. The gentle touch of his fingers upon hers, the soft brush of lips against knuckles. It was nothing like that.

He had grabbed both of her hands and smashed them to his mouth, before striding away fast enough that one would think the devil were after him.

Scrubbing her hands and arms with soap and water had done nothing to alleviate the prickle that stayed where his lips had touched. It was confusing.

Such was her life ever since Bryce had blackmailed her into this situation.

She had to get a handle on things now, though. They were going into a place she wasn't familiar with, surrounded by new people, and perhaps dangerous people if what Morgan had said were accurate. (And the more time she spent around the android, the more she realized that not everything he said should automatically be discounted.)

"Do you remember what you said to my sister at dinner the other night?"

Sarah glanced at Chuck when his voice pervaded her thoughts. He was still half turned towards the window, but his face was tilted down, his eyes pointed towards his hat sitting upon his lap. "I said a few things."

"About the coalition. How a person shouldn't have to fight for a right which should already be in place. All of that. Do you remember?"

She nodded, and he turned to face her, but she looked straight ahead at the seat in front of her.

"Maybe it was the way you said it, or maybe the words themselves…I don't know. But it was burned into my brain. It lit a flame in me just as surely as I think it did my sister. And Devon, as well, I assume." Sarah felt breathless for just a moment, so she forced herself to breathe. "I was thinking about it last night again, and I realized…" He pressed his lips together. "Why did you say that, Sarah?"

The way he looked at her, doing his best to hide the hope in his brown eyes and furrowed brow, it made her want to lie to him. Instead, she told the truth. "I said it because I knew it would make Ellie like me better, and she would be more likely to approve of you going with me to San Diego."

The flicker of hope in him was gone then, but he still smiled a little. "That was what I realized last night. It was smart. You talk about equality in front of Ellie and she lights up like a fireworks show."

Why she kept talking, she didn't know, and she silently cursed herself even as she spoke. "That doesn't mean I don't believe what I said, Chuck." She met his wide eyes. "I do. It must sound strange coming from…" Her gaze flicked back and forth to the commuters sitting around them. "…Coming from me. Considering what I do. But inequality between not just women and men, but between everyone, rankles. Even with me. I know you don't understand that at all," she said, "but it's true. If you can believe it."

"I can. I do."

She looked at him again. And in a moment of unfiltered disregard for the barriers she had built around herself, barriers that were fortified by years of hard work and training, Sarah said, "I don't understand you."

Chuck Bartowski smiled a little, a real smile, the one that made his nose wrinkle a little even though he wasn't showing his teeth. And then he met her gaze. "I don't understand you, either. That makes things difficult, doesn't it?"

"Maybe," she shrugged.

"But then it also makes things a little more interesting, too. Silver linings, as they say." He flicked a piece of lint off of his hat and grinned at her, completely disarming her, and simultaneously warming her from the inside out. She made a point of turning away and leaning into the aisle to glance towards the front of the car they sat in. For no other reason than to hide the fact that she was blushing.

A real blush. A real, honest to God blush.

He's a strange one, indeed.

A/N: When you're strange...con artists come out of the rain...when you're strange!

So here's the thing...Chuck Bartowski just made the Ice Queen bloooosh. Let's be real, it doesn't matter how awful Sarah Walker's life has been, in whatever universe you put her in, deep down inside...she is a dork. And sweet. A sweet dork. A swork. No, SC. No. Suppress the Evil SC. Suppress her.

Read and review! Love you all! I'm working on making this whole update thing happen sooner rather than later, sooo...

-SC