A/N: I'm just going to give you the chapter. And shut up for once.

Disclaimer: I don't own CHUCK and I'm not making any money for writing this story.

Last time: Sarah fell asleep in Chuck's bed after a long shift at the Timepiece and a chat about the women's march with Ellie. Meanwhile, Bryce got a firsthand glimpse at The Inquisitor and things are quickly shifting from bad to worse.

"Drink and the devil had done the rest! Yo-ho-ho and a—"

"Stop."

"—Bottle of rum."

"Casey, stop."

Chuck looked over his shoulder as he heard the loud thunk of the rum bottle being set down on his assistant's workspace. "Honestly, man. If I had any say in the matter, you'd be fired right now. What if my customers come in and see you drinking like this?"

"Drinking like what?"

Chuck heard Morgan's heavy step clunk over and stop behind his chair.

"By my calculations, Chuck, Mister John Casey was—oh, I know this word, I know it but it isn't—I will come back to the word—but his advances on a certain barmaid at the Rye Mill were, sadly, not welcome."

Casey burst to his feet angrily. "You hush that metallic mouth before I weld it shut, you busted bag of bolts," he growled.

"I deal in the facts, Mister John Casey."

"Facts, my ass. I wasn't snubbed—"

"Ah, thank you! That was the word!" Morgan chirped. "Much obliged. He was snubbed, Chuck."

"I wasn't snubbed," Casey continued angrily. He grunted and sunk back into his chair. "She's just got bad taste. Anyway, who needs women?"

Chuck just shook his head and yanked the lever down, creating yet another button for the march. He must have made thousands by now. And yet, his sister never seemed satisfied.

"Least I ain't toy boy over here, pining after a woman wut cheats and lies her way through life."

"Was that necessary?" Chuck asked calmly, not looking away from his project.

"No," came the childish grumble. "But it felt good."

"Oh, I'm glad."

It wasn't until that moment that Chuck heard the shuffle of feet at the door that separated the workshop from the front. He spun on his seat to see Sarah standing there, arms crossed, lips twisted to the side. He couldn't tell if she was annoyed or amused, and it made him feel strange on the inside.

"Sarah, did you hear everything Casey was saying about you? Oh, that is very awkward. I don't think anyone knew you were here."

"Thank you, Morgan," Chuck murmured, wincing as he climbed to his feet.

"I think you might be right about that, Morgan."

Chuck couldn't help chuckling a little bit at the glow the android seemed to get from hearing Sarah's praise.

"I ain't apologizin' 'cause I ain't wrong," Casey grumbled.

"Oh, trust me. I wasn't expecting an apology." Chuck took notice of the way Sarah sidled up to him at his desk and put a warm hand on his shoulder, sliding it over his back to his other shoulder and squeezing. "Hello, Chuck."

"Uh…Hello."

There was an annoyed grunt and Casey staggered to his feet, finding his footing first and then pulling his coat and hat on. "I got errands to do."

"Maybe sober up first, Cas—" Chuck tried, but he was cut off.

"Maybe don't tell me how to conduct my business, puppet."

The man was gone then, out of the side door, disappearing into the alleyway, and slamming the door on his way out.

"Is he really acting that way because he was snubbed by a woman?" Sarah asked, and her hand immediately fell away from his shoulder. He felt the sting of realization that he'd thought right and cast his gaze down at the button machine, yanking the lever with an amount of power that was unnecessary.

"Yes, he is. He has two Achilles' heels, it seems. Women and candles."

She laughed and pulled up a chair. "Need help?"

"Depends. Are you helping me because you have to be here to protect me and you'd otherwise be bored? Or are you sincerely offering to help me?"

"I mean, either way it's sincere."

He chuckled, his frustration from before seeming trivial and silly now. It was just that he knew why Sarah had put her hand on him, cozied up to his side. It was the original pact they'd made in San Francisco. The twisted, convoluted pact to make Casey think Sarah was feigning romantic interest to make Chuck trust her. It was humiliating for Chuck. But he also knew there was no other way to explain why he didn't cast her off and out of his life.

It was confusing. It was hard.

But it was his life now.

"Touché, Miss Walker. Do me a favor and shave around the buttons to get rid of the excess paper."

"Gladly." She huffed a little and sat, scooting closer to the other side of his work table and doing as he asked. They continued for a few minutes in silence, though Chuck felt a smidgeon of discomfort start to make its way into the room. Perhaps it was just him, he thought. Maybe he was projecting onto her. But she seemed to be rather fidgety, like something was on her mind.

Eventually he mustered the nerve to speak up.

"Sarah?"

"Hm…? Lord, this is a particularly frustrating one. What is this, anyway, paper or cement?" She narrowed her eyes at the pin between her fingers, scraping at an edge relentlessly.

Chuck offered a bit of a weak smile and a murmur of acknowledgement, then cleared his throat and rubbed his hands down his trousers. "Ah, er…Sarah, is anything the matter?"

"Yes. This button is—"

"Not the button, Sarah. Not that. Is something bothering you?"

Her blue eyes swept up to stare at him for a moment, and then she pursed her lips and shook her head. He just stared back, and then she sighed, a bit of a self-deprecating smile on her pretty lips. "You're getting better at reading people and I don't like it much."

"I've always been good at reading people," he said quietly. "I'm just getting a little better at reading you. I hope you don't mind too much."

And he found he couldn't read her response to that. Add to it that she chose not to verbally respond to his last comment. "I've been thinking about our resident bounty hunter."

"Don't think too much about him. Might give you an ulcer."

She smiled wryly at that and he shrugged.

Then she spared a quick glance at Morgan. She must've noticed the … fixation … the android seemed to have with Casey. Saying they had a connection was perhaps overstating things. But he thought perhaps she was nervous about saying something in front of Morgan about Casey for that very reason.

"You don't have to worry. He goes into hibernation when nobody is talking to him and he doesn't have a task. He doesn't hear when he's in hibernation unless I specifically program him to. Nothing you say means anything to him at the moment."

In fact, Morgan stood stock still where he was, his arms slack at his sides, facing away from them, and he wouldn't come back until he was asked to do so.

"Oh." She stared a moment longer, then turned back to Chuck. "That's…fascinating."

"It keeps him from wearing out his gears too fast. I'd have to polish, replace, and refit those damn things on a weekly basis if I hadn't figured out how to make him hibernate." Chuck shook his head.

"Ah…"

The silence pervaded again and Chuck cleared his throat. "Uh…Casey? You've been—You said—"

She shook her head. "Right. He's still here. Hovering. Waiting. And there's going to be a time when he decides he's finished waiting. It could happen at any moment. Today! This ruse we're pulling can only work for so long, Chuck. That postcard was simply a lucky find. It bought us some time—"

"And nearly got us all killed."

"That is true. It nearly did. We can't afford anymore wild goose chases. He was hired by IBoMaD and it's not a coincidence they sought him out for this job. He's good. Maybe even the best. And I'm sure he has tricks up his sleeve, things I probably won't even see coming."

Chuck saw the gravity of the situation in her face. She was nervous. That was what all of this was. Sarah Walker, the woman who always had everything under control, who was consistently the epitome of confidence and calm, was nervous.

And that made him nervous.

"So what are we supposed to do about this?" he asked.

She sighed and pushed a hand through her hair in frustration. "Right now, Bryce is most likely doing whatever he can to stay as far away from you as possible. I'm assuming the intelligence community still thinks he has the Intersect, and he's going to do all in his power to make sure it stays that way. At the same time, we have Casey sticking to us, trying to force you to lead him to Bryce. The odds of us ever finding him are scarce. I probably wouldn't be able to find that bastard if he wasn't running away from us," she huffed, shaking her head.

"Are you saying we should try to find Bryce?"

The con woman huffed again. "No. Maybe. I'm not entirely sure what I'm saying. But the way things are going now? It won't last for much longer. We don't have anymore postcards."

"I could always fabricate one. A little forgery, wot?" She gave him a flat look and he winced. "Sorry."

She pushed away from the table and started to pace, her brow furrowed. Chuck couldn't help making use of the opportunity to take the formidable woman in. Head to toe, she was a masterpiece. There was no doubt, she was simply a masterpiece. Even as nervous as she was, even without the control over the situation he assumed she was used to having, there was a power in her. And maybe, he thought to himself, maybe there was even more power in Sarah when she didn't have the reins. When she wasn't perfectly in control. When she was floundering a little. Grappling for a foothold.

And perhaps this was a power they could use. He almost smiled.

"Sarah."

"Hold on, I'm thinking," she said, holding up a hand as she slowly strolled to and fro in front of him.

"Sarah."

"What is it, Chuck?" She stopped and turned to face him, impatient.

"I have an idea."

Her eyes narrowed for a moment, and then he watched the smallest of smirks grow in her stunning features.

}o{

It amused her to no end that he most likely had no idea she was aware of him tailing her. She'd honed her instincts long ago, knew when to listen to her body, to pay attention when the hair stood up on the back of her neck or on her arms.

And John Casey was behind her, probably about thirty feet or so. A good distance. He was a bounty hunter, after all. He knew his trade. But so did she.

He obviously hadn't counted on that.

Casey had been following her ever since she stepped out of the Aviator's Timepiece after a mid-shift of waiting tables. For once she hadn't had to work over night. He'd stayed on her until she reached her home, and when she stepped out again, she felt him rejoin her after a few moments.

She and Chuck had made dinner plans with him in earshot, lowering their voices enough that he paid attention. She'd told Chuck before that Casey sometimes took to following her, trying to figure out her schedule no doubt, or surmise whether or not she was meeting with other people, preparing to pull some sort of stunt.

They'd banked on Casey following her this time, and it had paid off. She kept the smirk from showing as she walked the short distance to Chuck's home.

But she pushed the burly grump out of her mind as she started up the outer staircase to Chuck's rooms, because something else was happening. Nerves. She was nervous. Why on goddess' earth was she worried? Casey didn't have her worried. Once tonight was over, he'd be more convinced than ever that she was telling him the truth a few months back in San Francisco, and that she still had a hold on Chuck.

What worried her was that she was in a gown she hadn't worn since she'd done reconnaissance at a ball in Atlanta. It was just as stunning as it had been then. The muted burgundy color of the gown complimented the blush she'd used to emphasize her cheekbones. The puffed shoulders were perfectly fitted to slip down and rest on her upper arms, leaving her smooth, unblemished shoulders bare. She'd tightened her corset to make the way the skirt flared out a little more pronounced. She wore no jewelry, no gloves—whereas she'd piled on the jewels and accessories in Atlanta, as most of the other women at that particular ball had.

But she had to make an effort to very blatantly appeal to Chuck, in particular. For Casey's benefit, of course.

And the more she told herself that—as she'd strapped her knife holster to her thigh and put extra care into the curls that fell over said bare shoulders—the more nervous she became.

As she knocked, the nerves became unbearable, and she rolled her eyes to the heavens. "Pull yourself together," she breathed, just as Chuck swept the door open.

He didn't even bother holding back, or trying to mask the awe that exploded over his handsome face. "Oh. Hello. You're here," he murmured, sounding a bit breathless. She hoped the blush she'd applied obscured the natural blush beneath it.

"Yes. Are you hungry?"

"Mildly." He made a face, and then he beamed, his nose wrinkling. "I'm famished, actually. Let's go."

They walked arm in arm down the narrow steps and he led her to the carriage in the back, which he'd apparently prepped ahead of time. A voice in the back of her mind reminded her that he was a proper gentleman—planning ahead for a date.

"Is he following you?" Chuck muttered in her ear as he stepped close and took her hand on the passenger side of the carriage seat.

"All day long."

"Splendid."

She fed off of his grin as he helped her up. And she watched as he stroked his horse's neck as he moved around to his side and easily used his long legs to step up and sit beside her, grabbing the reins.

"Do you think he'll actually go into the restaurant?" he asked, turning to her.

"Yes, I do. He'll make sure to sit nearby where he can hear us. Though I wonder if he'll be fool enough to do so without a disguise."

Chuck turned and looked at her with wide eyes under the formal top hat that actually fit him this time. "He's going to disguise himself, you think?" He surprised her with a laugh. "I'm practically chewing at the bit to see what sort of disguise he chooses. I've got money on a big bushy beard, like the one Leonard wore in the Leonard the Spy serial I read when I was a boy. Bifocals, perhaps."

She allowed herself a chuckle. "He's a capable man. I doubt it will be anything quite so obvious. He'll make himself look older. A gray wig and mustache, perhaps an age hunch to make himself less tall, thus making himself stand out less."

"Have you ever done that before? Made yourself look like an old woman for a con?"

"Yes," she said easily. "I have." And she found every bit of truth she told him about her career had gotten easier, the more she did it. Perhaps it was the lack of judgment she sensed in him. The pure and sincere curiosity. The fact that she knew he simply wanted to know more about her because he cared.

Though all of those things should've made her pull back, she knew. And sometimes she did.

But she couldn't afford to tonight. Tonight, she had to get even closer. And she was glad this was all Chuck's idea and not her own. If there was blowback from tonight, he wouldn't lose the trust he had in her. And even though she didn't want him putting the blame on himself, more than anything, she needed his trust.

"What's wrong?" she asked then, because Chuck was making a strange face.

"I don't know." He glanced down at his horse and then he swung himself down from the driver's seat. "Domino, what's wrong, girl?"

The horse let out a soft whimper and a grunt in response as he stroked her behind her black ear, then he reached up with the other hand and stroked her white ear.

"What happened?" Sarah asked, not knowing an awful lot about the creatures, though she'd stolen and ridden on them numerous times before.

Chuck had since disappeared from her view, kneeling down next to his black and white horse. "Uh oh. She's favoring this foot."

Sarah scooted into the driver's seat and gracefully stepped down to join him. The toymaker knelt at the horse's front left hoof, cradling it in one hand and gently prodding at it with the other. "Is she hurt?"

"It must be a bruise. I can see it forming. Damn it! I should've checked earlier, but she wasn't showing any lameness."

"What does that mean?" she asked, setting a gentle hand on the horse's side and stroking, smiling a little at the appreciative little neigh from Domino.

"It's the same as it is for us. A little swelling. But I can't take her anywhere now, not when she's in pain." He stood up and stroked her mane, making eye contact. "Isn't that right, my beautiful girl? Have to protect our Domino, don't we?"

Sarah nibbled on her lip. "Ice?"

He glanced at her, eyes a little wide, and then he smiled. "Yes, that's perfect. Uh, I—Actually…" He hastened over to the small makeshift stable behind the house and grabbed an overturned bucket, rushing back to her side as she comforted the horse. "I'll be back in a moment."

She watched him go, softly cooing to the horse, pressing her cheek to the soft neck of the creature and stroking her mane. It was incredibly comforting and reassuring, feeling Domino's breath against her, the warmth of her under her glistening coat. When Chuck came back, the bucket was full of water and chunks of ice he must have broken off of the block Ellie'd kept in her ice box.

He gingerly scooted the bucket along the floor as Sarah helped him guide Domino's foot into the bucket. She protested for just a moment, but between the two of them flanking her and reassuring her, they were able to calm her enough to keep her hoof in the bucket.

And that was when she felt Chuck's hand slide over hers where it laid upon the back of Domino's neck. Sarah's blue eyes swept up to meet his and she knew immediately that he hadn't done it on purpose, that the sudden touch had been just as much of a surprise to him as it was to her. But that didn't make it any less potent, nor did it make it easier for her to breathe or tear her gaze away from horse snorted and she looked away, pulling her hand back to her side and rubbing her fingers against the fabric of her gown to try to rid them of the incessant tingling…that lingering touch.

"What now, then? Domino was our ride," she said, careful to keep her voice measured.

She heard Chuck clear his throat and he stood to his full height again, dropping a gentle kiss on the long black and white speckled muzzle. "Well, we could walk to the nearest stop which is about a mile and a half south and take the omnibus the rest of the way."

"Is that the horseless omnibus you're referring to?" He winced, which was an answer in and of itself, and she shook her head, eyes wide, a small smirk on her lips. "No. But thank you. I prefer horse-drawn contraptions, all the same." She stroked the horse's mane again. "I trust you much more than I do any machine, Domino."

He chuckled. "Then, I don't—" An idea seemed to strike him then. "You know, Devon and Ellie just left this morning to stay with the Woodcombs in Laguna for an extended visit. I was advised to eat all of the food left in the ice box. Think we might scrounge something up in the Woodcomb kitchen?"

Sarah nibbled her lip. "I make no promises. I've only helped in the Timepiece kitchen a handful of times," she said with a shrug.

"We'll figure something out. As Ellie always says, nobody starves in the Woodcomb kitchen." He gestured for her to follow him and made for the front of the house.

She followed behind. "Ah, yes. But usually that's because she is in said Woodcomb kitchen."

He laughed and glanced at her over his shoulder. "You might be right about that, but she's at the beach, and will be for at least the next week or two, so we're it."

"Alas!" she responded dramatically as he unlocked the door into the home and let her enter first. As she slid into the entry way, she felt that prickly feeling at her neck, the one that alerted her they were still being watched.

Casey was somewhere outside, keeping an eye on them.

And he wouldn't be following them anywhere, so it seemed. This put quite a kink in their plan. Or rather…a bruise, so to speak.

"So what now?" she asked.

"Well, I'm almost certain there was pork in the ice box last I looked inside of it," he said, shrugging his nice suit jacket off and draping it over the chair he passed in the living room on the way to the kitchen.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "I meant Casey. He's still out there. I felt him watching as we walked around the house to the front."

"Oh." He halted in place and turned on his heels to face her. "Well…you're the mastermind here. Any ideas?"

Giving him a flat look, she walked around him and went into the kitchen. "This was your brilliant idea in the first place, wasn't it? Plan A doesn't work out, you go to Plan B. What's your Plan B?"

She felt more than she saw him wince, and she shook her head, just a tad bit amused.

As she opened the ice box, she saw that there was, indeed, a large slab of pork awaiting them inside. "While you're thinking, I'll see what I can do with this monstrous thing."

They hustled about the kitchen, Chuck slicing apples, Sarah wrestling the large iron skillet out from under the cupboard where he'd advised her the pans were kept. And it wasn't until Sarah had a few thin slices of pork ready to cook that she heard a chuckle behind her.

She turned to glance at him. He was smirking down at the slices of apples that he tossed in another pan with what looked like brown sugar and a few other things she hadn't seen him use. "What?"

"This is perfect, now that I think about it." His brown eyes lifted to meet hers. "In a restaurant, we're surrounded by so many people. We'd be less likely to discuss anything too, er, delicate. So to speak."

Sarah caught on quickly and nearly beamed as it clicked in her head. "Here, we're in the privacy of this home. I'd feel much more comfortable asking you about Bryce…"

"And using whatever tactic you might need to in order to get information out of me," he added.

"You're right, Chuck. This is perfect."

He outstretched his hands and grinned, seemingly impressed with himself.

It was another hour before they sat at the kitchen table, string beans and apple glazed pork chops on each of their plates. Chuck even went so far as to pour wine, and it took everything in her to keep from smirking at the way he said "Veeery romantic" while he poured, following it with an embarrassed wince as soon as he realized how it sounded.

"You know," Sarah said, climbing up from where she sat at the table and moving towards the window. "We should air out the kitchen just a bit, don't you think? After all of that cooking, it's rather stuffy."

The look on Chuck's face told her he knew exactly what she was doing, and she allowed herself to marvel for a moment at just how little it took for the two of them to be on the same page. He was faster than anybody she'd ever worked with … or been with.

Pushing that thought from her head, she went back to her seat and sat down again.

As she dug into her pork hungrily, Sarah knew Casey was probably huddled outside of the window she'd just opened, listening to their conversation, thinking neither of them knew he was there.

She finally looked up at Chuck across the table as he sipped his wine and let herself have a moment. It was a short moment. He was looking away, towards the stove, and she thought about the last time they'd had a meal together before Casey first attacked her in her home, before her cover broke open on the train. What would this dinner be like, just the two of them sitting here and enjoying one another's company, if Chuck still thought she was a waitress who moved here from the country and had no idea she was a con artist and a murderer?

They would flirt, most likely. She would ask him about the Buy More. He'd ask about the Aviator's Timepiece, promise to visit again and get another hot nutmeg. He'd tease her about whether he'd buy two muffins instead of one the next time, so that he could have one for himself in case she didn't understand the concept of sharing again, like she hadn't the last time.

But she couldn't help wondering if it wouldn't feel a little empty, in spite of the warmth and familiarity that would most likely exist between them. It'd be surface-level familiarity at best. Because he wouldn't know who she really was, what she really was. And he'd be completely alone with the Intersect, not knowing what was happening to him, afraid of whatever it was, but more afraid this woman who was seemingly interested in him would think he was mad if he told her about it.

Everything was hard now. They were working against the monarch, the government, Casey, and the world as a whole. There were one thousand and one stories to keep straight, even more lies to keep track of, and an infinite amount of secrets that were keeping both of them, especially Chuck, alive.

But he did know.

He knew about her. He knew she was a criminal. He knew she'd stolen, cheated, lied, manipulated…and he'd seen her kill a few men. He knew about the Intersect. He knew what it was, and how it got there. And he had her to help him with whatever the consequences of having it in his head happened to be. Chuck didn't have to hide the Intersect from her, and he knew she had nowhere she could go to get away from him. She was letting him think it was Bryce's blackmail that kept her here because she wasn't entirely sure what was keeping her here. All she knew was that it wasn't the blackmail anymore. It hadn't been for some time now.

And yet …

What she wouldn't give for just one normal night between two normal people who liked one another…

What she wouldn't give for that with him…

When he cast his gaze towards her, she met it squarely and nodded a bit, trying to pretend she hadn't just been staring at him and wishing for more. What more meant, she didn't know. Just … more.

"Chuck, I hate to, um, bring up a rather sore subject, but are you sure Bryce didn't send you something else?"

Chuck sighed and looked away. "I've wracked my brain, Sarah. When we got back from San Diego, I dug through all of my drawers, even looked through my paperwork at the Buy More. There's nothing else. That postcard was the last of it."

"Well, you were friends with him for so long. Are there any places out there that he visited often? A favorite city? Think about it. Any places he might've mentioned that he really enjoyed seeing?"

"No. I mean…I don't know."

"Think, Chuck."

"I am thinking." His voice sounded a little testy now, and she both inwardly smiled and frowned at how good he was getting at playacting…or, put in a more truthful way, lying.

Sarah let the subject drop then, asking about Ellie's trip to the beach, the beachfront property the Woodcombs owned.

"I always said if I had money, I'd buy a beachfront house like the one Devon's parents own. Right up against the sand, you know?" She smiled to herself, strangely comforted by the soft wistfulness in his voice. "Imagine waking up every morning and stepping out off the back porch onto the beach. I think that'd be amazing." Then he paused. "The last time I took a trip out to the beach, the actual beach I mean, to—you know—do the whole thing, lying out in the sun, swimming in the waves, I was maybe thirteen or fourteen. Bryce pretended he was drowning and got one of the mistresses to run in after him." He laughed and shook his head, his brown eyes lit with amusement and reminiscing at a far off memory.

"That must have gotten him into a lot of trouble," Sarah said, folding her hands under her chin and watching him as he ate a little more.

"Oh, the worst trouble. The mistresses at the orphanage meant well. I truly believe that. But I think they realized we were all too much of a handful to trust near the ocean and we never got a trip like that again. At least, not while I was still there."

Sarah stuck a piece of pork and cooked apple in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "Did Bryce like the beach?"

Chuck's eyes flicked over to the window and back to her. His shoulders drooped a bit she noticed. "I think he did, yes. I mean, we all did. It was such a treat. Bryce teased Ellie about her ankles, but I think he also had a crush on her back then. Nothing serious, the usual type of crush a fellow gets when he's around a…" He paused again and lifted his gaze to hers. "…Uh, an older woman."

His ears were pink, she noticed, hiding her smirk. So many problems came from Chuck Bartowski's apparent feelings for her. Said problems kept her awake at night, tossing and turning, knowing how unfair all of this was for him, wishing he would just hate her and she could worry about her own…complicated emotions surrounding all of this.

And yet, she couldn't fight down the warmth in her chest at how genuine he was. It was a form of innocence. And she meant that in the best way. His innocence wasn't ignorant in the way of the world, it was just … it was goodness. There was no other word for it. He was filled with goodness.

She looked up at him through her lashes then and leaned closer. "Chuck, you and Bryce…you were really close, weren't you? Best friends?"

"Yes. We were. We spent a lot of time together. With Ellie and…" His voice stopped dead, caught in his throat, and he swallowed thickly. "It—It was good most of the time. Made the bad not…seem that bad." He cleared his throat and looked down at his plate for a while.

"I can understand that." She licked her lips, then…taking her time. "He would tell you just about anything, then. Bryce, I mean. If something was…bothering him. If he…met someone. Went somewhere special. Anything interesting or out of the ordinary during his…training…His travels…"

Chuck looked up again and sighed, sitting back against his chair. "I can't imagine he'd keep much from me." He tucked his hands under the table then, out of sight. "Well, I couldn't. I didn't. But apparently he has. Considering everything."

"Everything?" she asked, watching him closely. She knew the hurt he was projecting was real. She didn't know how. But she felt it.

"He's got a bounty hunter and a dangerous con woman gunning for him. Two of the best killers in the country want him, and at least one of you (or both, who knows?) want him dead."

Sarah's eyes snapped up to him. "Who said I want him dead? I never told you that. I just have…questions."

"You stuck around me all this time to get to him because you have questions? What kind of a sap do you think I am, Sarah? I'm not fool enough to think you're here because my magnificent skills with a screwdriver have somehow charmed you."

She sat back against her chair and boggled at him. Not that they had any sort of a script, but he was going far off script, nevertheless. And she was…well, intrigued.

"Chuck, there's more to you than just your mechanical know-how." She diverted her gaze a bit shyly.

"Don't play that game with me. Please. Bryce did something to you. And you want to get him back. I'm the only person on this wretched earth who's seen him in the last year, as far as you know. That makes me your best bet at finding him. That's why you're here."

"That's not the only reason, Chuck."

He gave her a flat look.

"The world's best bounty hunter is also a killer, like you said. And I don't entirely know whether or not he can be trusted not to hurt you if you end up not being able to lead him to Bryce. I'm protecting you."

Chuck huffed then and shook his head, grabbing his plate and standing up from the table, walking into the kitchen to start cleaning off his dish. Sarah stared at his back, then looked down at her own empty plate, her wine glass that was half empty. What was Chuck doing with this? Where was he leading them?

And when, exactly, did he start leading? She'd been leading at the beginning of the conversation, hadn't she? She didn't like this…the way she couldn't even tell when she was losing the reins to him.

Then again, was there anyone she trusted more to have the reins than Chuck Bartowski? Not likely.

So she went along with it, grabbing her plate, making a frustrated face, then taking a deep calming breath. There was a chance Casey could see them, and she didn't want to risk looking over at the open window to know for sure. He'd know she was on to him.

She didn't say anything for a while as she joined him at the sink, slipping her plate into the water with his.

"You really don't believe me, do you? That I'm here to protect you more than anything?" she asked, finally, looking up at him.

He didn't respond, scrubbing away at the pan now.

She bit her lip and turned back to the sink, moving to his other side and grabbing a dishtowel to dry what he washed. "Chuck, you're Bryce Larkin's last link to anyone on this entire planet, for all we know. And while I'd love to find him again, it's changed."

"You both think I'm a fool, Sarah. You and Casey. And maybe I am, because I know you're not here for me and I'm allowing you to continue this ruse to make me think this is all really about me…" He huffed and shook his head, scrubbing harder. "I'm not even making sense now."

"It's not a ruse, Chuck."

"Well, it hasn't exactly been the worst thing, having you around, and perhaps that will get me burned one day—sooner rather than later, most likely—but you're sort of…" He stopped, clearing his throat, not looking at her. "…worth it."

Damn, what a show. He was brilliant.

And now it was her turn. She didn't want to proceed like this if they didn't have an audience, if Casey wasn't watching. It wouldn't be fair. As it was, it wasn't fair. She wanted to know she was playing this game because it would alleviate the bounty hunter's suspicion, make him think she was just as frustrated with Chuck's lack of a lead as he was…

Granted, all of this was Chuck's idea, she reminded herself. And still, she needed to know before she put them both in this situation.

"If you'll excuse me for a moment…the, uh, the washroom?" she asked, gesturing daintily over her shoulder.

There was a bit of surprise in his face as he looked at her, but he smoothed it over almost immediately and nodded, pointing out of the kitchen and into the hallway. "Down the hall to the left."

"Thank you. Excuse me."

She left in a flurry of skirts, making her way down the hallway to the washroom. But instead of going inside, she shut the door just loud enough for anyone who might be listening to hear and think she'd gone in.

Then she slipped further down the hallway and stopped at the door, turning the lock as quietly as possible and pulling open the door. She winced when it gave off the tiniest squeak, then opened it slowly, slipping through and out into the backyard where Domino's stable and the small barn that housed an array of contraptions Chuck had invented. She passed the garden and snuck around the side of the house, past the staircase that led to Chuck's rooms, and finally stopped at the corner.

As silently and sneakily as she possibly could, she leaned to the side and glanced around the corner.

There he was, sure as the heart that beat inside of the toymaker. Major John Casey knelt at the window just as she thought he would, the same window she'd opened so that he could hear their conversation. And he was peering thoughtfully inside of the kitchen, watching Chuck.

It took only a second to see something in the man that surprised her greatly. He didn't know anyone was watching him as he watched Chuck, still scrubbing away at the dishes in the sink. And that was why she saw it plain as day in his face.

Sympathy. Pity.

He felt bad for Chuck.

And why not when he saw Sarah was still manipulating him into thinking she was interested in more than revenge on Bryce? He knew what he was seeing, without knowing just how deep it all went. That she and Chuck were putting on a show for his benefit, he couldn't know.

But as Sarah snuck back into the house through the back door, she had to wonder how much of it was a show. At least from her perspective…?

Shaking her head, she straightened her skirts and swept back into the kitchen, joining him at the sink again.

They were silent for a moment, and then down in the deep sink where only Chuck might see her hands—Casey being at the wrong angle to notice anything amiss—Sarah gestured with a quick point back behind them, towards the window where Casey hid.

Chuck left hand next to hers formed a C, then he drew a question mark in the water. She responded with a C of her own and he seemed to understand her message. She'd checked and Casey was outside.

Hopefully Chuck understood. Otherwise, this would be hard to justify. In her own heart, even, let alone in his.

"I know you've seen me do things, Chuck…terrible things, but…Do you really think I'd do all of this just to get close enough to Bryce to kill him? Do you really think I'm like … him?"

"Who? Like Casey?" He paused, nibbling on his cheek. "I don't know, Sarah. But I'm not a fool. All of this has been a fantasy, no more and no less. Having a…beautiful woman…spending all of this time with me…It's kind of worth it. Like I said." And then he did something that caught her so off-guard, she nearly rocked backwards with the force of it. He smiled down at the dish he was washing. There was a bit of self-deprecation, but mostly there was humor. He was laughing, without showing it to Casey who knelt at the window staring at their backs. He found this all…funny.

Sarah quickly turned to look down at the dishtowel she held, biting her cheek to keep from showing her own sudden mirth. Self-pity wasn't what she was seeing, as warranted as it might be considering everything he was forced to go through the past few months. Instead he was milking it, using it for this show they were putting on. And when his brown eyes lit with humor met hers, she knew he was sharing the moment with her.

The heaviness she'd felt departed and she had to bite down hard on her tongue to keep from giggling. No other person in her entire existence had ever kept her on her toes the way he did—and in the best ways. He was astounding.

And so…God help her, she didn't know what. Was there even a word?

"I suppose what I'm saying, Sarah, is…" he continued once he'd sobered up again, "is that I know a stunning woman like you would never want a man like me unless there was…something else."

"Not a very appealing testament to my character," she responded. "If you really and truly believe that's why I'm here, why are you putting up with my being here? You say I'm worth it but… Why let me stay in your life, see your sister, visit you at the Buy More? Why invite me to dinner? Why are you still so kind to me if you think I'm just pulling your strings to get to Bryce?"

He turned to her suddenly, letting the silverware in his hand slip back into the sink. "Oh come on, Sarah. You know why." His brown eyes looked right into hers, his brow furrowed, and he lowered his voice so that for just that moment, it felt like it really was just them. "You know why," he repeated softly.

She did.

She absolutely did.

And it made everything feel so damn good but hurt so terribly all at the same time.

"I do," she said just as softly. And here was the kicker, the thing that made her feel like she was tearing herself apart from the inside out. "What makes you think it isn't the same for me?"

God, it hurt.

He blinked a few times and looked away, and then that slight smile was back on his face, the corner of his lips tilting up just so. She was floored by the fact that there wasn't even an ounce of bitterness or self-pity in it.

"I suppose I don't know for sure. I also don't know that you won't kill Bryce when you see him. When I lead you to him."

Sarah perked up and looked at him closely. "When? You said 'when'…not 'if'. Do you know something?"

"Nothing that I haven't already told you. But I'll figure it out. He was my best friend, after all. Nobody knows him better than I do." And he said it with an amount of confidence she knew inherently he did not feel. But he was convincing enough to reel Casey in, for sure. This would give them some time, and it might cause Casey to ease off a bit, have some confidence and even some faith in to say she was proud of the inventor standing beside her for the part he was playing in this charade was an understatement. She was buzzing with…she didn't know what, but it was more than just was something she hadn't felt in some time…

Or perhaps…not quite that long ago. And she was forced to shove the sensations from that adrenaline-filled moment in the room at the Hotel del Coronado when his body was pressed against hers, his face tucked into her neck, his breath hot against her skin.

Sarah clutched at the edge of the sink tightly, ridding herself of that memory and everything that went along with it. …at least for the moment.

She hated how breathless she sounded when she spoke up again. "Good. The sooner we find Bryce, the sooner you'll be rid of Casey."

"And you," he said. "Right?"

He was right…but in another way. She knew she'd have to go once all of this was over. There was no other choice. This life…this existence…normalcy…none of it was hers. For everything she'd done, she'd never be able to earn it even if she started trying now.

"I…don't know."

That was a lie built upon an even deeper lie.

And though she didn't know it then, there was yet another lie deeper still beneath all of that.

"That's not a very good answer."

"It's all I have."

"Then I guess it'll have to do for now." He ducked his head and then looked up at her again, turning his entire body towards her this time. "Either way, I'm helping you both find him. So all of this is moot, isn't it?"

"Not entirely." He looked away and she grabbed his arm, turning him back. "You'd tell me, though, right? If you had something else? If you knew something?"

He looked resistant for a moment, like he might have half a mind to dispute her, to say "no I'm not helping you find my friend" … and then he crumbled a bit and nodded. "I'd tell you. Even if I didn't want to." There was that amused look again once he turned to the sink.

Dare she think he was enjoying making fun of himself? Or rather…making fun of the man any outsider might think he was. But contrary to what Bryce apparently thought of him, contrary to what Casey thought of him, and maybe others as well, Chuck Bartowski was incredibly self-aware, and aware just in general. He was smarter, stronger…deeper.

"You're too good for this, Chuck," she found herself saying. She hadn't meant to, and she thought maybe he picked up on that, what with the way his hands stilled in the sink water, how he pulled them up to squeeze the edge of the sink, careful not to look at her for a few moments.

"Am I?"

And then she went one further, leaning in and tenderly sliding a hand over the back of his neck, placing a long, gentle kiss against his cheek. When she pulled back, he looked at her with a bit of confusion, his brow furrowed and eyes wide all at once.

Sarah slipped her hand to his shoulder and squeezed, turning back to silently help him with the dishes.

And no matter what else came from tonight's playacting, Sarah felt that she'd misjudged Chuck again. She'd made assumptions. She'd thought this would be hard for both of them.

Instead, Chuck had teased her, made fun of himself—of both of them—and in turn, he'd made the fake heart to heart so much easier for her. And damn it, if that hadn't made literally everything else so much harder for her.

A/N: I know some of you are tired of the dialogue without the plot moving forward, but in my opinion the characters are part of the plot, the most important part of the plot. And I'm going to stick with them as much as I feel like I need to. If that means a lot of dialogue and a lot of quiet non-action scenes that develop characters and relationships, that's how it's going to be. If that's not your thing, I completely understand. Just know a lot of action is coming up. Stay tuned for the next chapter.

-SC