A/N: There is a lot going on out there in this world of ours. And it wasn't anything I could possibly foresee when I first came up with the idea of this gargantuan undertaking, these chronicles of the toymaker and the con artist, and their friends... both of the human and the machine kind. The world, and the safety of the world, is so incredibly fragile, and should not be taken for granted. I don't know that we're going to start wearing five layers and cravats again, or have dirigibles floating over our heads, but the social and political path ahead does look murky, the environment in legitimate danger on top of that. So take a deep breath and dive into this darkness I've drummed up for ya! Hahahahaha! I'm a downer, I know, but... I've also given you some light in this chapter. And hope. Take that, please. It's yours. Stick it in your chest and keep it there for you to think about even after you exit out of this story. I promise you I'll be back with more light, and more hope. Even in the midst of this dark steampunky dystopian world. Love you folks still sticking with me on this wild rollercoaster. Seriously.

Disclaimer: I don't own CHUCK or its characters.

Last time: Chuck and Sarah have a much-needed deep and profound talk on the beach, because that's what the Pacific Ocean does to people. They also have a late dinner together and discuss Ishmael Grand and the letter Bryce sent to him about The Inquisitor. Are they right to fear this man, or whatever he is? Let's find out together, shall we?

She was exhausted.

Her fatigue felt like it was past the point of no return and the march hadn't even happened yet.

She'd offered to run errands for Ellie, and she'd been run so ragged by them that she'd actually agreed to let Chuck start driving her around in the steamobile. He'd quipped that she'd go bankrupt paying for the trolleys and omnibuses.

It wasn't anything she blamed Ellie for. The nurse was incredibly nervous, and she was determined to make the march the biggest protest the city had ever seen. She had a lot of pressure on her shoulders in spite of not being the only organizer involved. Other women in the Coalition were working behind the scenes as well, raising money from donors, working on getting the permit from City Hall, recruiting, et cetera.

Ellie's one-track mind was understandable, and Chuck had apologized to Sarah over and over and over. Devon had apologized to Sarah. Even Ellie herself had apologized. But Sarah waived them off. The apologies weren't necessary. She'd worked hard before, but the endgame had always been filling her pockets. It had always been selfish in nature.

And this decidedly was not.

She knew she should feel better about what she was doing, about the fact that she might genuinely be helping, standing up for an incredibly important cause. And she did feel good about it, but she was also just too tired for any sort of intense feeling or emotion.

It didn't help that she hadn't been able to sleep all night. Instead, she had tossed and turned, thinking about the past few days.

She'd spent so much time at the Coalition headquarters, working alongside Ellie, Mrs. Travers, Miss Haring, Miss…She didn't remember the redheaded woman's name. There had been so many women, some men even, all with names she'd been assured she didn't have to remember. And so she hadn't.

And Chuck had been there, as well, working just as hard as she had been.

And as busy as she was—painting posters, buying food for the fellow protesters, taking messages to this person, and that person needs this paperwork—she'd still managed to keep an eye on Chuck through all of it. And there was a stark contrast between the Chuck of a few weeks ago and the Chuck she'd witnessed in the build-up to the march.

He was still Chuck Bartowski, with the smile that regularly reached his eyes. But she saw his exhaustion, and not physical like most of her own exhaustion was. It was emotional, mental. And she knew everything was genuinely taking its toll on him, on his entire outlook.

A few nights ago, when she'd sat at the table across from him, waxing poetic about her bleak outlook on humanity, he'd agreed wholeheartedly. Everything is rotten.

She'd never heard him say anything like that, and so quickly, so confident that what he was saying was the truth. And as their meal had gone on that night, he'd said more. It was a pessimism she'd never seen from him, and it had continued to pop up as she spent time with him over the days that followed.

If he'd become an all-out brute, saying rude things, being snappish and short-tempered, grumpy, mean, it would've been easier to bear. She could have dealt with that, easy. All she would have had to do was take him aside and talk to him, reprimand him for letting his dark mood affect the attitude he was taking with other people.

But he was Chuck. So of course he was never a brute or mean. Of course he wasn't rude. Because he was kindness itself. Instead there were moments when she caught a look on his face that made her chest ache. He was putting on a good face for his sister's sake, and perhaps for his friends who were working with his sister—he knew how important this was for Ellie, yes, but also for everyone. But when he thought no one was looking, he looked heartbreakingly defeated, and she didn't know what to do about it.

Sarah Walker was a con artist. She was a criminal. A thief. A swindler. A faker, liar, cheater, manipulator. A murderer.

Never in her life had she ever been in a position in which she'd had to be an emotional crutch for another person. She didn't know how to fix him. Because he had every right to feel the way he felt. He had every right to feel beaten down and hopeless. The world was closing in on him. And yes, she was here, as well, standing by him, doing her best to protect him physically. That, she could handle. But his soul was in pain and she could see it so clearly that it was slowly and systematically destroying her whole heart.

Another sleepless night was proof she couldn't take it anymore.

Ever since they stood at the water's edge and had something of a heart to heart, things felt like they'd smoothed over somewhat. And Chuck was being insufferably decent about all of it. She would have taken angry jealousy—as unwarranted as it would be—over quiet, hurt acceptance any day. No, that wasn't true. Chuck was so good and kind, and she'd take that over everything. That was the truth. Even though it had a way of making her hurt even more than if he was unreasonable like so many men would be in his shoes.

The worst part was that she still knew he was hurting. He cared about her, and finding out that she'd been physically intimate with Bryce Larkin, of all people, even if it had been years ago, couldn't have been a good feeling. She wasn't a fool and in the privacy of her own wrought mind, there was no need for false modesty; Chuck cared for her a great deal. She didn't get it at all. She didn't understand. Because it wasn't simply for the way she looked, as Casey used to intimate months ago when he had no idea of why she was actually staying by Chuck's side. She knew what it looked like and what it felt like when a man saw the shell of her and nothing else. She was more than used to that. She'd even used it to hewn her own career.

That wasn't the way it looked and felt when she was around Chuck.

She could feel how his smile was for more than just the blond hair, blue eyes, perfectly chiseled cheekbones, well-built figure, and whatever else men were attracted to. There was something about her that pulled him in. She just didn't understand.

Especially when she'd had to tell him about her past with Bryce; as little as it had meant to her, she had a fear it would mean a lot more to Chuck.

That heaviness she saw in him now…Was it also because of her and not just the Intersect?

She rolled her eyes at herself as she trudged along the sidewalk, smoothing her hand down her brown slim-cut jacket, picking lint off of her black trousers. Of course it was also because of her. She would've had to have been an idiot not to realize she'd hurt him a handful of times in their months-long acquaintance. And she'd hurt him again in the train. It didn't mean anything… She couldn't imagine how bad it would've sounded if she'd slipped and said something as paltry as that. It would be an admittance that she knew he had feelings for her, something she'd tried not to let him see, both for him and for herself. And it would also be somewhat of an admittance that she valued him more…Well, a good deal more than she was comfortable with.

But in spite of how ridiculous it would have sounded, she wanted him to know it so badly. She wanted him to know that she'd felt no sense of loss when she'd escaped and left Agent Larkin behind that night all those years ago. Not even for a moment. She'd been glad to be away from him. Far away. And she'd nearly forgotten about his existence altogether until he'd showed up again on that rooftop in Atlanta.

She couldn't say anything like that, though. She couldn't give the toymaker that. She couldn't play with him in that way.

She just wanted him to stop hurting on her account. And that was stupid, wasn't it? Because it was futile. People didn't stop feeling things just because you wanted them to. She couldn't even make herself stop feeling things, damn it.

Sarah made the last turn, looking over her shoulder as the sun oh-so-slowly rose up from the homes behind her, in the east. It was almost mocking her, the way the air seemed so much clearer that morning, the sun's rays already warming her back in spite of it only being a few minutes past seven. If it were just cloudy and dreary, soot hanging over the city, like usual, that would be much more fitting.

And then she felt childish.

Good weather would make today's march much more tolerable, and so she told herself not to scoff at the sun's rays, if only for Eleanor Woodcomb's sake.

Instead, she crossed the aforementioned woman's front yard and oh-so-carefully ducked past the windows of the bottom floor where Chuck's sister and brother-in-law lived. When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she took a deep breath and began climbing them as silently as she could.

She'd asked herself a dozen times during her trek from her home to Chuck's…why she was doing this?

As she ascended the staircase to the rooms where the toymaker lived, she knew why.

He deserved to know there was someone who noticed he was suffering. He might not know about everything she hid from him on a daily basis, but he needed to know she cared enough to notice, and that she cared enough to try to fix it. If she could. Even if only temporarily.

When she got to the top, she shut her eyes and sighed again.

And then she opened her eyes and raised a fist to knock.

She waited, waited, and waited some more. And then she knocked again. Was he still asleep? Was he all right? Was he even in there?

Perhaps he was downstairs in the Woodcombs' kitchen. She imagined Ellie was already at City Hall, prepping for the speeches and whatever else would need to be set up downtown, so he might be eating with Devon.

Just when she decided she'd see, there was a clamor behind the door, a scuffle of feet, and then she heard the bolt clank…

Chuck opened the door and just gaped at her for a moment. "Sarah…" he finally breathed.

He looked so disheveled and exhausted, his curls sticking up every which way, his trousers a bit crooked, feet bare, his shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, suspenders hanging down on either side of his thighs instead of pulled up over his shoulders. And there were such circles under his eyes, it made her feel a prick of concern in her chest.

"Good morning, Chuck." She beamed for his benefit. "It's a rather important morning," she quipped, tilting her head.

"Isn't it just?" He smiled back, then licked his lips. She knew he wanted to ask what she was doing there, but withheld the urge, knowing it might be a bit rude. Then he cleared his throat and shook his head, stepping back and opening the door wider for her. "Oh! Please, come in, Sarah. What—Er, what are—?"

"What am I doing here?" she asked, walking into his entryway. He looked too embarrassed to confirm, so she continued quickly to rescue him. "I didn't sleep all night worrying about today and—Well, I'm worried about you."

Chuck shut the door behind them and frowned, blinking at her. "You-You didn't sleep? You must be tired, the way my sister made you into her personal assistant the last few days." He winced. "She has this way of being a drill sergeant. I apologize. Again."

She waved her hand to the side. "No, don't—Don't apologize. It isn't necessary. It was important work, and I was honestly sort of…er…honored to have a chance to be a part of it."

Chuck gave her a long look, his shoulders a little slumped, and then the corners of his mouth turned up and he narrowed his eyes. "You really mean that, don't you?"

"Yes." She shrugged.

His smile grew.

"I didn't wake you up, though, coming by this early…?"

"No." Chuck shook his head. "No, I've—I've been up for hours."

"Hours?" She unconsciously reached out to cup his arm just over his elbow. "Are you all right?"

He swallowed thickly. "It's just…No, I'm fine." She gave him a hard look and he sighed. "Nightmares," he admitted. "I decided to just stay awake after the last batch."

"Chuck…" Sarah squeezed his arm reassuringly, trying not to give him a pitying look. Nobody liked being pitied, and she absolutely knew that the toymaker wasn't an exception. "I'm sorry."

He just shrugged. "It is what it is."

"The Intersect?"

"It's still there. In one piece."

Sarah frowned. "That wasn't what I meant." She couldn't care less about whether or not the actual Intersect was all right. "Are they…Intersect nightmares?"

"Oh. Yes, I think so." He yawned, covering his mouth with one hand. "They're like my flashes, but easier to put together, more like a series of scenes rather than quick images flitting past my vision." He yawned again. "I think it was triggered by my worry about my sister. I want this march to go perfectly. She's worked so hard, Sarah." Then he gave her a flat look. "For that matter, so have we."

She giggled for his benefit. "Would you mind terribly if I asked you what scenes you see in your nightmares?"

"No, of course not. It's just hard for me to remember when I—when I wake up. There's a, erm, a bit of a pain in my head at first, and I have to lie there with my eyes closed tight, very still, for just a few minutes…And then it goes away," he explained. She felt a pang in her heart at that. "Along with most of my memories of what I even saw in the nightmare."

"I see." She smiled reassuringly again and then let go of his arm, not really knowing what to do with her hands now that she wasn't touching him. She opted to just cross her arms at her chest. "Chuck, I—I wanted to check on you in a, erm, a more general sense. You've been seeming rather…" She didn't know what word to use without making him feel insulted.

"I know," he just said simply, a bit of a shy shrug. And in that moment, Sarah Walker wanted to hug Chuck Bartowski so tight her arms absolutely ached. He looked away, self-conscious.

"You have a lot—a lot you have to deal with, Chuck. There's a lot on your shoulders. You are being forced to bear a heavier burden than you deserve."

"I know," he said again. "But what can I really do besides keep bearing it?"

The look on his face seemed to almost beg her for an answer, in spite of them both knowing that was a purely rhetorical question. She hated this. She hated all of this so much.

"I don't know." She felt as disappointed as he looked. "It isn't fair."

"No, but what really is fair? Is it fair you're stuck here saving my life and risking your own simply because Bryce is holding something important to you over your head?" He shook his head. "No. Is it fair that some people eat five or six meals a day while there are other people out there sleeping on the streets who are lucky if they even eat at all? No. It's also not fair that my life has been forcibly yanked off of the peaceful, happy enough path I was following before Bryce brought the Intersect to the Buy More's doorstep, and dropped onto a treacherous, deadly path that's most likely going to mean I die before I reach thirty." There was a little spark of anger in his eyes, in the way he clenched his unshaved jaw.

"You'll see your thirtieth birthday if I can help it," she said.

He gave her a long look then, and she saw him trying to smile for her benefit. But then he simply gave it up and cast his eyes downward.

He wasn't trying to wear a mask in front of her. He wasn't the smiling, chipper younger brother of Nurse Eleanor Woodcomb handing out pamphlets and painting materials, building signs, making pins. Instead, Chuck was showing her just how comfortable he felt with her, how much he trusted her, by letting her see underneath the good face he'd been wearing for days on end. Maybe it was just that she was the one person on this whole earth who knew everything.

Sarah felt the weight of that responsibility heavy on her shoulders. Nobody else could be here for him, not really. It came down to her.

She needed to give him something…But what? What did she even have that she could give? What hope could she offer him at a time like this? She didn't have much hope herself… She derived hope from him. If he lost hope, how could she possibly help him find it again?

A con artist. A criminal. Someone who'd seen death, who'd doled it out herself. She had Death on her heels at any given moment…and so did Chuck. A dark specter hovering behind them both.

"I should head down and feed Domino," he said then, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to perhaps fix it. It did nothing but make it worse. And for some reason, that trivial, insignificant little moment he didn't know he'd given her buoyed her spirits. "She gets ornery if I'm late. I missed her feeding by an hour once and she didn't talk to me for a week."

His quip was unexpected and she heard herself snort, blushing as she realized that was her.

Chuck was a gentleman about it, acting as though he hadn't heard it, and he looked down to button his shirt to his collarbone, then moved to grab his boots from under the bed and stepping into them, not even bothering with socks, she noticed. "Feel free to stay here if you'd like," he said. "Or you can come with me."

Sarah joined him.

There was something calming and peaceful about his and the Woodcombs' horse. She was warm and gentle.

Chuck left his door ajar and led Sarah down the steps and towards the back where the small stable was. Domino waited patiently, letting out a hospitable soft whinny as she saw Chuck and Sarah approach, shifting her weight.

"Hello, girl," Chuck chirped, going straight to her and rubbing her nose, scratching behind her ears. She stomped a bit and snorted. "I know, I know. I'm a few minutes late. Life could be worse." He smirked over his shoulder at Sarah. "She's spoiled."

There was a grumpy huff from the horse then, as though she'd understood what her owner said and didn't appreciate it.

"She's a beautiful girl and the best girl, though. Aren't you, Domino?" She slid up close to the horse and gently ran her hand down her smooth neck. "She deserves to be fed on time. And spoiled."

Sarah laughed happily as Domino gave her an appreciative nudge with her nose.

When she turned to look at Chuck, there was something in his face, a reemergence of that light that had drawn her into him right from the beginning, and tenderness. She felt warmth spill through her as he quickly looked away and went back to preparing his horse's breakfast, a small smile playing at his lips.

The con woman went back to stroking Domino's mane. "How's her hoof?"

"Good as new," he said. "A customer of mine gave me a bag of chia seeds to mix in with her food and it fixed her up, right as rain, isn't that right, Domino?" He beamed. "Domino loves chia."

"She is spoiled," she said, stroking the horse's nose. "That's not exactly inexpensive."

"No, I looked to see where I might buy more. It's nothing I can afford. She'll have to do without once I run out of the bag Mr. Frank gave me. But she's healed up, so it isn't necessary anymore anyway." Chuck came back and stopped in front of the hungry horse, holding the pail of feed in his hand. He put a hand on Domino's neck and turned to look at Sarah, something churning in his eyes. She couldn't figure out what that something was.

"Do you want to give it to her? Not that you aren't already good friends, but she might fall in love with you if you're the one hanging her food." The way he said it, slowly lifting the pail and offering it to her, made a different kind of warmth go through her.

Swallowing, she smiled to cover up…whatever that was…as if she didn't know…and she took the pail. "All right. You hungry, Domino? I've got your chia for you," she drawled, leading the horse across the grassy little yard to the corner where her grazing hay was.

"Just hang it here on this hook over the fence and she will do whatever you tell her to do for the rest of eternity," he chuckled, gesturing to the hook.

Sarah did as he advised, then watched as Domino went right up to it and shoved her snout inside, gobbling it up. "Good girl…" she breathed, scratching the horse's neck.

"You know…?" She nearly jumped, not realizing just how close Chuck was standing, his voice right near her ear. She kept her eyes on the horse, afraid of what she might feel if she turned and looked at Chuck right at that moment, with how close they were to one another. "Before Bryce came back, before the Intersect, this was every morning for me. A short conversation with my horse, prepare her feed, her water, head to the shop, sit around fixing clocks, watches, toys, and whatever else people brought to me, inventing ridiculous contraptions that have no real purpose, teaching my sentient android friend how to read the newspaper and literature…" He let out a soft huff of amusement. "It wasn't ideal. I wasn't blissfully happy. But I was much more ignorant of how hard the world is, how much…bad there is out there."

She bit her lip and turned to look up at him, eyes wide, a bit of a sardonic tilt to her mouth. "Were you, really?"

The warm smile wasn't what she expected as a response, and she really should inch away from him, if only just a bit. But she stayed where she was instead. Because she was weak.

"No. I wasn't. But it is much easier to pretend things were better. Before…all of this." He cleared his throat. "And leave it to you to see right through me."

Sarah furrowed her brow in curiosity.

He smiled again. "People have a way of…" He paused. "I don't know, infantilizing me. I see it. I recognize it. Casey does it," he said, shifting his weight a bit shyly and sticking his hands in his pockets. "As though I haven't lived through things, experienced things. As though I'm ignorant of the way things work in the real world, outside of…well, this." He took his hands out of his pockets and gestured to the area around them, to his home. "You don't, though."

The con woman shrugged. "I did."

"I know. But you don't now, not anymore. I don't know why, or what changed. But I appreciate it. Sincerely."

How could she put into words just how much had changed since those first days when she met him? She'd seen enough even before their impromptu trip to San Francisco to know that he wasn't anything like the way Bryce had portrayed him. Bryce had definitely infantilized him, made him seem dependent, fragile, unaware of the world at large…everything Chuck had just described.

"All anyone has to do is spend a week hiding out from a bounty hunter in an unknown city with you and watch you rescue an important foreign dignitary from assassination. I think they'd see the truth of it after that."

He chuckled. "No. Casey still does the same thing."

"Casey does that with everyone."

"No, Sarah." He huffed, looking a little frustrated. Not with her, she could tell. But just in general, perhaps in his inability to get across what he meant to? She kept her mouth shut and just let him speak. "It's a kindness. You've been all over the world, seen so many different things, you've lived much, much more than I have. And you never make me feel naive or ignorant. You never patronize me. And it's a kindness. One I'm not so sure I deserve—"

"You deserve every kindness there is," she said before she could stop herself. And she already said it, so she figured she might keep going. "You should know that, Chuck." She looked right into his eyes. "You deserve much better than what life is doling out to you."

"So do you," he said, just as quickly, his gaze so soft it made her feel weak. She tried to shake her head but he curled his fingers around her wrist so gently, and she felt his thumb tuck under the cuff of her shirtsleeve and tenderly stroke her skin there. "You do," he said emphatically. "No matter what lies in your past. Bryce should never have dragged you into this, and the way he did it." He swallowed, anger making itself known in his handsome features. "I still don't know what he threatened or…or whom. If it was someone very important to you…You can tell me." She retreated back into a bit of a shell at that. "You don't have to," he rushed out, squeezing her wrist that he still had a hold of, but then he let it go, letting her hand drop back to her side and sticking his own hands back in his pockets. "It's just that I'm here. You know I'd take it to my grave. You know that, don't you?" She nodded because she couldn't really find it in herself to do much else. She was frozen, but incredibly warm all at once. "I'd do that for you."

Sarah didn't say anything. She just stared at him, not knowing how to respond. She was more sure of him than she'd ever been of anyone or anything ever in her entire life. He wouldn't tell a soul, not even his sister. She knew it.

And she must've been silent for long enough, breaking his gaze, looking down at the tufts of grass beneath their boots…He got the message. When she looked back up at him, he had a small, resigned smile on his face and he was stroking his hand along Domino's spotted back.

"I usually feed Domino a few times a day, when I'm on my breaks at the shop, during lunchtime, but I think she'll be all right for a while today. I gave her more food and I'll set the hay out for her if she needs to graze." He swallowed thickly. "She should be just fine. Isn't that right, my friend?" he asked the horse, earning a quiet neigh into the pail of feed.

She took in the slump of Chuck's shoulders.

There was so much bad, so much to fear. The government was out looking for the man they thought had stolen their Intersect, and thankfully they thought it was Agent Bryce Larkin. But if they ever found out the truth…

That had to weigh so heavily on his mind. It had to haunt him, dog his steps. No wonder he had nightmares, on top of the ones the Intersect put him through. No wonder he didn't sleep.

He needed something. He talked about her kindness, and she wasn't fully convinced he was right about that… But she did know how it made her feel when he said it, and with such a sincerity that made it even more palpable. She knew how it made her feel to be so sure of just how much he trusted her. Yes, it was a great responsibility, and she wasn't so sure she'd even earned his trust.

But he'd earned hers. One hundred times over.

If I don't think about myself, no one else will. She remembered saying that to Bryce on the rooftop in Atlanta after he accused her of only thinking of herself. That felt like years ago now, a decade even. So much had happened. So much had changed.

And here, standing before her, was someone who did think about her, and often. More than anyone ever had. She saw it in him whenever they were together. He didn't just think about her, he cared about her.

So for once…For once, she wouldn't think about herself, and instead she'd think about him, his well-being. And she'd let Chuck pick up the reins. Just this once…

"My father."

As he turned to face her, his brow furrowed, head tilted in question, she told herself this was the best she could do. The best she was willing to do. Not because she didn't trust him, but because it would hurt too much. And this wasn't the time, not when they had so many pressing matters to attend to today.

"Your…father?" he asked.

She gave him a short nod, stepping a little closer, putting her hand on Domino's side near Chuck's, feeling the warmth of the beautiful horse beneath her fingers, the comforting beat of life beneath the smooth muscles.

"Agent Larkin knows something he isn't supposed to know. I don't know how he obtained this information…" She huffed, staring at their fingers, so close together on the horse's side but still not touching. She resisted the urge to shift her hand just a bit closer to feel the comfort of his fingers against hers. "It's about my…my father." She winced inwardly. This was the best she could do. Truly.

"He has…damning information about your father, then?"

"He brought me into his business, Chuck. You could say it's a…family business," she quipped, rather bitterly as she remembered the look on Jack's face when he'd called it a family business.

"He's a con artist."

She nodded. "Yes. He was caught in Córdoba. Argentina. He'd run into a rough patch in the game and had to pick pockets. He told me a different story once I got to him, one that sounded much grander, but he was just…picking pockets. They found him with a woman's necklace he stole right off her neck while she was getting off of one of his boats in the canal district. They realized he was someone who had a good deal of black marks to his name already and I—Well, long story short, I broke him out of the prison and we escaped. The last time I saw him was in Valencia, Spain. Bryce somehow knew he was there. He didn't tell me how he knew, but he knew that I'd broken him out of an Argentine prison, that many different governments, but especially ours, wanted the Ice Queen and the Lichtenstein Looter brought to justice, so to speak."

Chuck's eyes widened. "I've read about the Lichtenstein Looter. At least, I feel like I remember reading about him. He robbed a bank in Tallahassee."

"He's robbed many banks. So have I." She stared at him, daring him to react to it. And she felt foolish for always doing this every time she told him about the bad things she'd done. It didn't seem to faze him, no matter what she admitted she'd done.

"That's your father…?"

She took a deep breath. This was easier…better. She didn't have the strength for more.

"More or less," she said, a bit tongue-in-cheek.

"Bryce threatened to turn you in, to turn your father in. He blackmailed you using your father's freedom and safety as his bargaining chip…" There was the anger again.

"Yes. And he has a target on his back. Maybe not as big as the one on my back, but…" She shrugged.

"No wonder you haven't budged from my side all this time. You're protecting family."

Sarah felt the ache inside of her increasing, and the look he was giving her wasn't helping. "Bryce somehow knew that I wouldn't be able to say no. He had everything set up so that if I murdered him right then, the letter with all of my information, with my father's, would go straight to the IEL, and I'd be found and imprisoned, or killed." Her eyes flashed. "Because they'd have to kill me before I'd ever let them put me in one of their prisons."

"I'm sorry."

She looked up at him. "What do you have to be sorry for? You didn't ask for any of this, either."

Chuck swallowed, and she felt his hand slide over hers that still rested on Domino's side. It sent a wave of calm through her, comfort. "I know you're here to protect me, to keep any harm from coming to me. And you have no idea how grateful I am, for how many times you've saved my life. I-I know now it's because your father's life was attached to mine, in a way. But that doesn't make me any less grateful." He stepped a little closer, his fingers curling around her hand and squeezing. "We're going to figure out how to get free from the Intersect. Both of us. And he may not know it, but your father is one of the only things keeping me safe right now, so in return, I'm going to do everything within my power to make sure he stays safe. We'll protect him. Bryce can't touch him. The feds can't touch him."

Sarah was speechless, her heart hammering like mad in her chest, and when he sent her a reassuring smile, she found she was glad he had his hand over hers, that she had this beautiful horse to hold herself up with, because her knees nearly gave out.

"I'm very glad you told me. Thank you. I'm grateful. Now I've got even more reason to stay alive. And I promise you, I'm going to try a lot harder. For you. For the Lichtenstein Looter."

She saw the genuine determination, and even a smidgeon of confidence, in the humorous tiny smirk on his face, the glint that was in his eye. And for the first time in a very long time, Sarah Walker—the Ice Queen—felt safe.

In a world plagued with danger and human frailty, ill-will and rage and greed, and…and…and… Here she was, standing in front of Chuck Bartowski, feeling so incredibly safe.

Without second guessing herself, without holding back, without resisting the urge, she slipped her hand out from under his and closed the rest of the distance between them, putting her hands on both sides of his face and pressing her lips against his.

She ignored the quiet voice telling her to stop. Instead, she clung to the safety, the comfort, of feeling his mouth pressed to hers, his lips softer than she'd imagined all those times she'd admittedly thought about it late at night when she was alone, his unshaved chin scratching deliciously against her face as she pulled him in even closer. She slid one arm around his neck and kissed him harder, hearing him emit a soft sigh. It was suddenly like she'd stepped into a fire pit and the flames were playing at her toes, then her ankles, and slowly crawling up to engulf her legs…licking higher and higher up her body, threatening to eat her whole.

Sarah just kept kissing him, twisting her fist in the material of his shirt and because she couldn't get enough, she let go of his shirt and threw that arm around his shoulders, yanking his front fully against hers.

This.

This was what it felt like to kiss someone who gave a damn about her. This was what Chuck Bartowski tasted like. And when his arms finally moved from where they'd ended up respectfully perched on her waist and instead embraced her tightly, his fingers digging into the muscles in her back in a way that made her feel like she might be going absolutely mad, she thought to herself, This is what living tastes like…really living.

The world couldn't touch her here, not with the way he was holding her—not possessively, but in a way that told her he ached to have her as his own. Bryce couldn't touch her here. The darkness wouldn't find her here. She was safe.

She was safe.

She couldn't get enough. She needed more.

And as she slid her hand up to cup the back of his neck, she opened her mouth against his…

"Oh! So sorry!"

Sarah pulled her tongue back into her mouth, a cold feeling shooting through her, dousing the heat that had overtaken her entire person, and she moved her face back a few inches, slowly opening her eyes and swinging them over to see Chuck's sister standing at the corner of the house, having obviously just walked around it to find them embracing.

Chuck whipped his head around, looking thoroughly kissed and not a bit ashamed, she thought with no small amount of interest. "Ellie," he breathed through clenched teeth.

"No, I know! I know, I absolutely killed that moment dead and I am sorry!" she said, finally peeking through her fingers and lowering her hands altogether, looking genuinely apologetic. "I heard Domino slopping up her food and thought I'd ask you about the march, but I had no idea you had company. Good morning, Sarah." She winced, then smiled at said company.

Sarah finally stepped back, smoothing the front of her shirt down. "I, uh, I suppose the cat is out of the proverbial bag. Isn't it?" She gave Ellie a shy smile, and not a bit of it was faked, but she still managed to take a deep breath and gather her wits about her…if only just a bit. "I hope you don't mind?"

Ellie just laughed. "You sweetheart. I'm just glad my brother has someone else to spend time with who isn't a horse or made out of metal."

Sarah laughed with her, still rather thrown off by…God, just everything. She'd just kissed Chuck, and he'd kissed her back. God, hadn't he just. She was just barely keeping herself from shaking.

She needed to make an escape.

"I should get back home. And…change. My clothes. My dress and sash are there. Of-Of course they are. Where else would they…? Ahem. Can't forget the sash!" She blushed again, then moved away from Chuck altogether, his hand gently sliding down the sleeve of her shirt, his fingers dancing on her wrist, before he lowered his arm to his side. Her heart was still racing, her fingers and toes tingling, her lips…Oh, God help her, he'd really kissed her. She felt weak and strong all at once. She'd tasted the forbidden fruit and she thought she'd gladly forsake the rest of humanity and their descendants over and over and over if she could just taste it again.

Sarah turned to look at Chuck over her shoulder as she walked away from him and she sent him a quick wink, before she turned back around and stopped at Ellie's side, giving her a hug. "Good luck today, Ellie. We're all with you."

"Thank you, Sarah. I'll see you there." Ellie gave her one last squeeze, then let her go.

The con woman made haste, pushing through the front gate, hurrying out onto the sidewalk, and striding away from the Woodcomb-Bartowski home.

It wasn't until she was back home, shutting and locking the door behind her that she let herself unleash her emotions. It came out as a gasped sob, but there were no tears. Just a breathy laugh as she covered her overheated cheeks. She pushed her hands through her hair and laughed again.

}o{

He was still caught in the afterglow of what was easily the biggest moment of his adult life when Sarah looked over her shoulder and sent him a wink. It had made him grin at first, and then the realization hit him, smacked him right out of the sky, sending him crashing down to the cold, hard ground again.

Sarah had known Ellie was coming around the corner. She'd heard her or she'd seen her coming out of the corner of her eye. Maybe she'd even felt her coming. The extraordinary woman had a sixth sense from all of the years she'd been a con artist. It made so much sense.

He gaped at her retreating figure, his heart that had been clawing out of his chest when she'd been in his arms, kissing him like that, starting to slow down a bit. And then he felt the disappointment. Debilitating disappointment.

Ellie staggered over to him, then, letting out a gasp as she grabbed him by his shoulders. "Chuck, I'm sorry. I swear, I didn't mean to interrupt. I had no idea Sarah was here. But more importantly, was her tongue just in your mouth?"

He made a grossed out face. "Ellie, please. Have some decorum."

"Oh, no no. Not today. Today is about causing trouble. Decorum is for prissy ladies in twenty layers of skirts. Today I'm only wearing three layers." She giggled and as bad as he felt suddenly, for as glorious as he'd felt not a minute earlier, he found himself shaking his head and chuckling at her. "Seriously, Chuck, I thought she liked you before…but now I have confirmation. And boy, what a confirmation." She fanned herself.

He teasingly pushed her away. "Stop."

Chuck knew now that Sarah had just cemented their relationship for his sister. She now had proof they were courting.

It had been for the cover, the whole time.

That soaring feeling he'd felt when she pressed her lips against his, the way she'd twisted her fist in his shirt, the way she'd pulled him in so close, the sighs, and how she really had put her tongue in his mouth before his damn nuisance of a sister rampaged around the corner…

He tried to cling to it. He really tried so hard to cling to it.

It had felt so good, his body was still in the throes of it. Her hands and her arms were so powerful, her lips so soft, and her long, muscled body had fit so perfectly up against his. Why did she have to kiss him like that, though? She could've just pressed her lips against his, been caught by his sister, blushed and giggled girlishly, before skipping off.

That wasn't Sarah, though. That was stupid. Sarah didn't giggle girlishly and she didn't skip. Nor did she overact. She acted perfectly for whatever she wanted to accomplish.

When she did things, she did them emphatically.

And yes, that feeling of finally that had cascaded through him, the relief and desire, all of that was dashed now that he knew it was playacting for Ellie's benefit. The wink had clearly said, "We got her!"

But Sarah hadn't just gotten his sister, she'd gotten him, too. In the worst way.

Or the best way?

Because Lord help him, but that had been such an extraordinary kiss. His lips were still tingling, his face hot where she'd grabbed him…His shirt was a little wrinkled and stretched from where her fist had gripped and tugged at him.

He let out a long, calming breath, trying not to be too downhearted. He couldn't let Sarah's intentions derail the fact that it had happened. And yet…he was hurting. No matter how hard he willed himself not to. He saw the sense in what she'd done.

And he couldn't let it distract him from the fact that she'd given him an even greater gift than the kiss. (And what a kiss that was; fuel that would keep him going for quite a long time.) She'd entrusted him with the identity of her father. She finally told him what Bryce was using to blackmail her to get her to stay here, in this dangerous situation, protecting him.

"Can you and Sarah drop by the shop to pick up those extra posters, Chuck? I forgot to have you bring them home yesterday. I know it's a little out of the way."

"Is that what you came out here for? Interrupting a very pleasant situation?" he teased. She winced again and he chuckled, squeezing her shoulder. "Of course we'll bring the extra signs."

"Thank you." She went up on her tiptoes. "You'd better not look like that when we take to the streets, brother," she said, then, as she backed away from him. "You'll be arrested by patrol on site."

He laughed and shook his head, watching her go. When she disappeared, he leaned with his full weight against Domino, pressing his forehead to her back and stroking her.

"You're the only girl who doesn't cause me trouble, Domino," he said quietly, thinking about how vulnerable Sarah had looked when she'd told him about her father. The first thing he would do when he saw Bryce again, if he saw Bryce again, would be to hit him in the face. He wondered how Bryce had figured out about Sarah breaking her father out of prison, and where her father had then ended up.

It was all still so confusing…

But she had told him. And it meant more to him than he could say. He would take what she gave him, and he would keep it close. He meant what he said when he told her he would take it to his grave.

He would.

He would also take that kiss to his grave.

He just hoped that would be later, rather than sooner. At least now he knew he had more than his own life he'd be fighting for. Sarah's father was depending on him.

}o{

She focused on saying the words at first, reciting them from heart even though she had the Bible open in front of her, propped on the edge of her bed as she knelt beside it. And then the words faded, and they were in her head…over and over and over…

She finally opened her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

It had been such an easy decision, to follow the path of righteousness, finding like-minded people, people with pure hearts like her own, pure intentions.

To rid the world of its sinners. Trying to turn them towards God hadn't worked. They still followed a path of degradation and filth. Every time she went out into the streets, it was almost as if they flaunted it, as if they were laughing at her. She wasn't going to stand for it any longer. It wouldn't be long before all of it was burning, and only those saved by the Inquisitor would survive.

The people who mocked her as she stood on the street corner with pamphlets…they would burn, too.

He would hear of this day, this action… their divine oracle, their leader. He would hear, and he would see her name, and he would think of her as a hero of the Movement. She wanted nothing more than to be martyred.

There was suddenly a soft knock at the door to her room. She turned her face towards the door. "Are you ready?" came the raspy whisper through the thin door that was crooked on its rusted hinges, the lock questionable at best. She'd not slept a wink the last two nights, for fear the ruckus in the hallway would spill over into her own room. Heathens. Drunken, philandering heathens, all of them.

"Yes," she called back confidently. "Just a moment."

She heard the footsteps leave down the hallway and she climbed to her feet, brushing off the knees of her dress. Then she pulled at the lapel of her overcoat, going into her inner pocket and taking a picture out. The edges were bent, the image starting to fade. She knew there would be a day that it would fade completely and all she would have was the memory of him. He was just a boy when she used most of her pay to get this picture taken of him at the fair.

And it wasn't long after that when his body was brought to her after a patrolman missed an escaping thief and accidentally lodged a bullet in his spine instead.

This God-forsaken world had nothing for her, but she knew she could at least purge it of its filth. The world had treated her unkindly, and she would gift it with cleansing anyway. She was truly a warrior for Him. And she was promised something in return. A reunion with her son, a path to glory. She would live in a perfect world without sin, and without sinners.

She moved to her carpet bag and popped it open, taking the small pistol out of it, turning it over and checking it. Then she stuck it in the inside of her vest and fixed the hat she'd pinned to her head.

As she opened the door, her compatriot came down the hallway towards her again.

He handed her a silk ribbon sash and she turned it over in her hands, looking at the words printed on it. It was just more filth, put forth by filthy souls, entitled filthy souls. She pulled it down over her head and draped it across her torso, and then she took the sign the man handed her and met his eyes.

"Don't be afraid. I'll be there," he said with a nod.

"I'm not afraid," she snapped under her breath, brushing past him. No, she had nothing to be afraid of. She knew what she was doing and where she was going once she did it. She was ready to do her duty. This was her path. She was righteous.

And she knew that this was just the beginning.

They would know, as well, after today.

A/N: I came face to face with a person like this last weekend at my place of work, saw her unhinged ranting, the spit coming out of her mouth... and let me tell you...I wrote this chapter months ago...I'm legitimately freaked out by how similar it is to real life right now. I'm not changing it. I'm not going to be toning it down to make myself more comfortable, or to make you all more comfortable. We're diving headfirst into the thick of the antagonists and their mission, folks. Prepare yourselves. (Oh and then there was ... that whole kiss thing ... 45 chapters, folks, WE DID IT. Hahaha!) Review, please! It's fuel! IT'S FUUUEL! Thanks for reading!

-SC