Summary: Down on her luck, America's Sweetheart Sarah Walker flies to Chicago for a job interview. When she meets a charming, bumbling nerd on the same flight, her life takes an unexpected turn.

Author's Note: Wow was that shitty of me. I remember thinking after publishing 9 how rough it would be if I'd stop posting after that cliffhanger. It's been a year and a half since that thought. My sincerest apologies. Right after I published chapter 9, I moved to Canada to study screenwriting at the Vancouver Film School. I had so many deadlines, and so much other writing to do that this story sadly took a backseat. I'm back in Belgium now, writing on a TV show and as I'm waiting for my next feedback session, I realized there's no better time than the present to dive back into the world of Chuck, and boy, have I missed it. So good to be back!

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, what else is new?


PREVIOUSLY ON CHUCK VS THE PILOT:

"Hey, Chuck? I'm bleeding."

BANG

The window shattered as another shot was fired.

Shit shit shit.

"Come on, stay with me, Sarah," Chuck yelled out over the loudness of the wind and the roaring beat of the plane's propeller. It was dark out. Chuck was freezing as the wind wheezed through the shattered window of the aircraft. His hands were warm and sticky, his knuckles blanched white, as he painfully gripped onto the steering wheel. How he had done it, he didn't know, but he had managed to get them off the island, leaving the guards behind them as he'd flown away.

"Sarah!" he screamed louder, not daring to glance sideways, his eyes on the vast blackness in front of him. Little shimmering lights popped up in the far distance. Chicago was only ten more minutes away. They'd make it, they had to.

His heart had never beat so fast in his chest before. If he'd just been quicker, if he'd just been less him and listened to her. Why was he always so compelled to dig into things, why couldn't he deny his own curiosity for once, and just do what he was asked to do? Retrieve the files, not read the files, and get caught and have your girl-, your friend shot. Who cared about a stupid list on some dead man's computer? Who cared about any of it while she was bleeding out? How was his apartment and his sister's scholarship more important than Sarah's life? It wasn't.

"Come on, Sarah. Stay with me," he repeated.

"Stay with me."


She hated this. She absolutely, wholeheartedly hated this. Why couldn't he be a normal father for once in his life and spare her the humiliation of being pulled out of class? Why couldn't he be like any other parent and go through the normal channels to see her? She huffed a breath as she walked down the hallway towards the terrazzo.

"Walker, you have a visitor," one of her fellow squadron cadets had interrupted her economics class. Everyone had looked up at that. Visitors usually had to get permission weeks in advance to even be allowed to set foot on base. Most parents, any decent parent really, waited till the sports games or a special event to visit their loved ones. But not her dad, ladies and gentlemen. Not Jack Burton. He seemed to go and visit whenever he so well damn pleased.

It wasn't so much him showing up unannounced as it was the decorum that came with it that bothered her. She had had to apologize to her professor, walk out of class and head to her dorm room to get changed. Following the strict guidelines of the academy, she had had to put on her service dress, the wheel cap, the white gloves. Even after almost four years of studies, the uniform still fit as uncomfortable and annoying as it had on her first day of class.

She could see him from afar. His hair had mostly turned grey by now. He wasn't hard to miss seeing as he was the only person out on the square; everyone else was in class. That and no one else really batted an eye to the F15 that decorated the terrazzo anymore.

Her father was gazing at the aircraft intently, when she came to stand next to him, her hands in her pockets.

"Nice plane you've got there," was the first thing he said. He didn't even lift his head to acknowledge her presence.

"That's all you've got to say? You pull me out of class to talk about planes?" Sarah tried to keep her voice calm, but she had grown impatient over the last couple of years. She'd had enough of her father's "extracurricular activities," and all the trouble that came with it.

For the first time in her life, she felt like she was close to what she supposed one could call happy. Daring to leave him, her enrollment at the USAFA, and getting accepted had been the change Sarah had been so desperately seeking. A way out of the vicious cycle of guilt and ecstasy and more guilt that had been her life thus far.

"What, can't a father drop by to see his favorite daughter in the world?" Jack asked, now looking up to take in said daughter. Sarah quickly evaded his gaze, instead looking more intensely at the aircraft in front of her. Seeing as it brought certain memories up of her and Bryce sneaking around one night, she quickly shifted her eyes again and found some form of comfort in the untainted view of Spirit hill.

"You got any other daughters running around I don't know about?" she gritted through her teeth. That was uncalled for, and they both knew it, but she'd said it anyway.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," she sighed. Even though she knew she could never and would never forgive her father, he was still her father, and she, his daughter. She loved him and couldn't help but apologize and seek for his approval whenever he decided to grace her with his presence.

"How've you been, darling?" he asked, deciding to let her earlier snap go unsaid.

"How's that schnook of yours. Or have you found someone less pretentious by now?" he smirked when a new flash of annoyance marked her face.

"Relax, honey. I'm only teasing. Can't your old man have some fun, now and then?" he gave her a charming innocent smile and she allowed for the tension to dissipate.

"He's alright," she said, keeping her eyes on her father to gauge his opinion of him. Whatever their situation, or her own emotional turmoil, she still wanted to know whether he approved of her life choices.

"Hmm. And the classes? They're not too hard on you? Have you told them who your father is?" she rolled her eyes at that which made him laugh. It didn't last long though, and some of the awkwardness that always followed them around these days returned.

It had been a while since they'd seen each other. Since Christmas. And before that, it had been more than a year. Bryce had come over to Chicago to spend the holidays with her and her mom. They got along just fine. They were respectful of each other; nothing more. They'd just headed to the dinner table, when her father had shown up out of the blue.

While it had been a long time since Sarah had seen him, it had been even longer for her mother. They were far from being each other's besties, but they were tolerably amicable. Her father had grabbed an extra seat, had started to spoon some potatoes onto Bryce's plate and he'd commenced the retelling of one of his favorite stories of the time he had rescued the president.

Meeting a new person always warranted him to tell the story that had made him famous. Bryce who had heard mostly nothing about Sarah's father from Sarah herself had been more than excited to finally meet the great Jack Burton. Unlike Sarah, he was at the USAFA for a major in computer engineering. They'd met their first day as they were placed in the same squadron, and they'd fallen into bed together not that much after.

"So, care to show your pops around the old campus? I want to see where all of my money is going towards. I keep telling you, Sarah, you don't need to pay for all this crap to become a pilot," he followed Sarah who'd already started walking towards the most visited monument in all of Colorado, the Cadet chapel.

Yeah, well we can't all save the president, now can we, dad. Some of us have to actually work for our dreams, she thought to herself, but she remained quiet.

Unlike the empty square, there were a dozen or so people walking around the chapel. Having been there multiple times over her four years of study, Sarah didn't look up at the intricate architectural details of the building. She sat down on one of the benches near the front, her father joining her on her right. Some of the tourists had looked up and had started whispering when they had recognized her and her father, but neither of them were in the headspace to acknowledge or greet their fans.

"I need your help, sweetie," and there you had it. The real reason of her father's visit.

"I thought I had made myself clear when I said that I was done?" she said softly, her eyes trained on the marble steps in front of her that lead to the altar.

"Listen, it's nothing that I can't handle alone, but I always appreciate my angel's presence when I work. Besides, it's a real easy mission, in and out," he was getting excited, much like he always was when a new mission was sent his way. Old traditions die hard.

"What's the play?" she indulged him.

"That's my girl. The Ring wants to go international. They're done with the US; say it's getting too small for their operations, and I don't disagree. Heck, these days, it's hard to tell who is or isn't part of it. There's this man, Sheik Rajiv Amad, from the Saudi Oil Family. He'll be flying into New York and then straight onto a private jet to D.C. The Ring says they've got some great material to make him cooperate. Just gotta have a little chat and we should be good to go," his eyes were almost shimmering from the gold that was probably awaiting him at the end of a mission well done.

"And where do I factor into the equation?"

"You'll be my pilot," he smirked. He'd been waiting to drop that piece of knowledge. Sarah could tell from the look on his face that he'd been counting on that detail of the op to win her over. But she wasn't the same person anymore. Had he asked her last year, she would have probably jumped at the chance of piloting her first jet before being completely certified. She would have forgotten all about the sleepless nights her life with her father had cost her, and she'd have been on her way to New York by now to inspect the aircraft and outline the flight's route.

But she wasn't the same person anymore. She was in her final year; so close to being graduated; so close to actually starting her career as a pilot; so close to attaining her dreams without the help of her father.

While she already knew what her answer was going to be, she went along anyway. Just a little longer.

"When's the op?" the smile he gave her made her heart crumble, because she knew it wouldn't last. She'd never been good at saying no to him; the only time she recalled having done so was the time she'd been accepted to the Academy. And that had been a nightmare in and of itself. Her father wasn't a cruel man, and he'd said he'd been proud of her. But the next time she would see him, she'd already be in her second year of flight training.

"Next weekend, dear. I'm sure you can find some time in that busy schedule of yours to help out your old man out, hm?" He threw an arm over her shoulder, tugging her closer to him, as she thought of a way to let him down slowly. At least she wouldn't have to lie about the fact that she was expected to compete in the school's annual National Flying Association this upcoming weekend. Before she could tell him, however, a man approached them from their right.

"Captain Burton," her father released her and turned around, his lips still curled upwards. Pride. She'd come to associate the look with every occasion that she'd promised him to do another op, even though she'd been growing more reluctant with every passing year.

"Aha, you must be the great Captain Graham my daughter has told me so much about," Jack got up from his seat and extended his hand to a rather unimpressed Graham. Sarah got up quickly too and saluted her superior. She heard some flashes going off to her right; these tourists were probably having a field day. What were the odds of being witness to such a momentous rendezvous?

"Lieutenant General Graham," he corrected her father. Knowing her father, though, she knew it didn't faze him one bit. Still, that didn't stop him from dropping his own title.

"Colonel Burton, at your service," he gave him a salute too, but it was far from the norm expected at the USAFA. For a man who had used his job in the army to rise to fame, her father wasn't particularly fond of all the titles and salutations that came with it.

"Of course, Colonel. Always a pleasure to have the parent of one of our most promising students visit our campus," Graham said, nodding to Sarah who stood a little awkwardly to the side. Hey dad, meet my other dad. Or rather, hey biological dad who's never there for me, meet your replacement dad who's actually there for me.

"I'm sure you're aware, colonel-"

"Oh, please, call me Jack," he smacked Graham on the shoulder, grinning from ear to ear.

"Colonel," Graham repeated, his eyes narrowing slightly," as you're certainly aware, we at the USAFA pride ourselves on our academic excellence. I would love for us to talk about it some more in my office, whilst cadet officer Walker over here returns to her class."

He gave her a stern look. Jack quickly glanced between the two, and Sarah held in her breath awaiting her father's next move. He was always unpredictable like that. He seemed to make up his mind then, as he looked back at Graham and smiled charmingly:

"Of course, I would love nothing more than to hear about that academic excellence of yours. Your office's that way?" he had already started walking towards the chapel's exit, showing everyone who's who. Graham and Sarah followed behind him, Sarah remaining silent and hoping honest to God that she could just skip this day altogether.

As they exited the chapel, her father briefly turned around to see whether his company was still following.

"Sarah, darling. I'll see you next weekend, huh? Remember to take good care of your mom, and –"

"-don't be a sucker," she completed the phrase, grateful that Graham had already walked a little ahead.

"That's my girl," he said, before turning around to follow Graham down the stairs. Sarah waited a bit longer, took in some calming breaths as she basked in the soft heat of the sun that had started its ascend with the growing days of spring. When some of the visitors had overcome their shyness, and had started asking her for pictures, she had unenthusiastically moved over to the stairs to head back to class.


Her heart was still pumping with adrenaline when she climbed out of the aircraft. She'd never flown this well before, which was a remarkable feat since she flew next to perfect every time. But there was something about the conditions today that had made her fly better than any other day. The sun was out, which could be treacherous and cause nasty reflection whilst flying, but she had used it to her advantage. The wind was calm today too.

Since the USAFA was hosting the National Flying Association this year, she and her school had gone last in every competition. Courtesy of the host. Every other major flying institution had flown, and shown off their tricks, but only a few of them had been able to impress the young pilot. When it had been Sarah's turn to climb into the aircraft, she'd taken a deep breath, talked to the invisible lady in the sky, even though she wasn't present, and she had lowered herself onto the seat of her plane.

People had been cheering her on, some guy behind a mic had been introducing her as the next contestant and some shattering had erupted when the audience recognized her name. Once she'd closed the latch, everything had become silent. She had closed her eyes momentarily, gratefulness washing over her for being in this position. When she had opened her eyes, instinct and talent had taken over, and she would conquer the sky in the following hour and a half.

With the applause and shouting of hundreds of USAFA cadets still ringing in her ear, Sarah made her way over to the stands, her helmet tugged beneath her arm. She barely had a moment to come to her senses when Graham approached her. It wasn't uncommon for him to congratulate her personally, since he was her mentor after all, but something about the way he walked over felt different somehow.

"Sarah," he lowered his aviator glasses, and Sarah's heart was in her throat. Over the four years that he'd been mentoring her personally, he had never once called her by her first name. When they were just the two of them, formalities would go out the window and he'd drop the cadet title, but it was always Walker. Never Sarah.

And then Bryce caught her eye, standing a few feet behind Graham, a ghostly look on his face.

"Spit it out," she said, her ears filtering out her surroundings. The only sound remaining the loud gushing of blood pumping fast through her veins.


Not an inch out of place. That's all Sarah could focus on. She was hoping to detect one item out of place, a mirror, her trunk, the blinds, anything. But it was impossible. Nothing amiss in Cadet Walker's bedroom. Everything perfectly perfect in the world of USAFA guidelines. She hated it, this instance. So damn much. She needed a mistake; she craved it so damn badly. If only she could have something on her hands, something to do to not be thinking about him.

The television against the wall was on mute, but the images seemed to scream at Sarah. A reporter on the scene. An airplane in the background. A field of fire. The letters on the bottom of the screen spelling out in excruciating detail how Sarah's father, the pristine Jack Burton, rescuer of the leader of the free world was no more. Died in a plane crash. On board, Sheik Rajiv Amad from the Saudi Oil Family.

Click; the screen turned to black. Sarah looked up from the bottom of her bunkbed. In the door opening stood Bryce, solemnly, with a remote control in hand. In uniform. She'd always loved him in uniform, she thought it made him look smart, sophisticated. But now, the appeal seemed to have faded. He seemed worthless compared to the hole she was feeling. The hole her father had just left for her.

She could see Bryce was grasping for words, which way best to approach her. But he didn't get that far, she wouldn't let him. No words nor actions could console her. She was beyond grief. She was raging; so infuriatingly furious with herself. Why hadn't she gone with him? Why hadn't she agreed to the mission, shoved her pride aside. Happy my ass. Of course, she hadn't been happy, those were only words she told herself to make herself believe she was.

But the untimely death of her father had burst that bubble whole. And there she sat. On the bottom of a bunkbed of a school she had wished wholeheartedly would fill her up, a man in the door opening she had begged the skies to be her savior. Yet now, when everything came crumbling down, she realized the biggest fool on the planet was her.


How could it get worse, she had thought. Well, apparently it could. Not only had she seen her father been lowered six feet underground a few weeks prior, but now she was being told by one of her professors that Langston Graham had come to passing in a helicopter accident. Fuck, what else did she have to live for?


She swayed unbalanced on the rhythm of the music. An empty bottle stuck to her lip. Her eyes glazed over. Her brain fuzzy.

"Sarah," she heard vaguely. Her head seemingly under water. A hand pulled on her arm, not quite unfamiliar but not quite home either. She looked up. Wow, bad idea. The world turned with her as she fell onto a body, warm.

"Sarah," she heard again. Lips against her temple, hair sticky against her. Bryce.

"Time to go," she felt Bryce trying to pull her up right, but gravity was pulling a serious number on her.

She tried to put one foot in front of the other like he asked, but how was she supposed to if the floor kept moving?

And then, she heard laughter. A snigger to be precisely.

"Look who it is, little birdie's lost its wings."

"Guys, don't," she heard Bryce say.

"No, no," she grumbled, her voice foreign. She lifted her head up; saw three men with buzzed heads, or was it six?

"What did you say to me?" she heard herself mutter.

"Nowhere to go without daddy to bail you out," the man closest to her said. She recognized that voice. Derek, Bryce's friend. Her friend, supposedly.

"Is it true what they say… loose cannon?" Who're they calling a loose cannon, she wondered. Not her, right?

"Such a shame; good thing her daddies aren't here to see the wreckage."

BAM.

Her knuckles hurt. Badly. The taste of metal in her mouth; scraped off skin. They must have deserved it.


She looked at her feet. They felt foreign, as if they weren't part of her body but someone else's. She had to remind herself that they were in fact hers. Those manicured toes in elegant white shoes, for today was her wedding day. For the life of her she couldn't tell how she'd ended up here, and yet here she stood. At the altar across from Bryce. The chapel where she'd last seen her father. Alive. A point of no return. She stretched out her hand and felt something cold being pushed onto her finger. A ring.


Ruby red. 18 K white gold. Sarah held onto it like she'd once held onto bunny. The man across from her stared at her intently.

"There's only one thing left to do," he had said. With a sharp breath and deep reluctance, Sarah twisted the ring on her finger. It came off with difficulty, unlike her new wedding ring that still felt foreign and could go missing at any given point. Not her cadet ring. The one thing that had truly given her purpose. The one thing she was now handing in. Her career at the USAFA over. Finished right before the end. Without the ring, she was left with nothing...


Sarah stirred. Her head felt heavy. As she moved more, a sharp pain shot through her shoulder. Ouch, what the—

"Sarah?" she heard a voice. Warm and low. Home. Her eyes tried to flutter open, but it was as if someone was keeping them closed. A soft, honeylike voice whispering in her ear to sssssleep.

The next time she woke, it was dark. Sarah's eyes opened, not without pain. With difficulty, Sarah tried to move, but she couldn't.

"Slowly, honey, the bandages," she recognized that voice.

"Mom?" The room finally taking shape. She was in her old childhood bedroom. At her mom's house. In Chicago. Posters of cars and pilots on the wall. A picture of her bunny in the one hand, a spelling bee trophy in the other.

"You gave us quite the scare," Sarah's mom said as she came to sit on the bed next to her.

"Chuck," Sarah jumped up, a mistake. Another shot of pain through her arm.

"Careful," Emma pushed Sarah down again.

"What happened?" was the next thing Sarah asked. Her head trying to piece things together but coming up blank.

"You tell me. I was watching my late night special, when suddenly, a young man's on my doorstep, completely out of sorts, you drenched with blood and a bullet to the shoulder. You had us worried sick, baby."

Sarah looked down to the cause of her pain. Her right shoulder and chest completely wrapped up in bandages. Shots of last night - was it last night? - filled her head. Running, lots of it. Trees, bushes, a mansion on a cliff. A kiss, Chuck, computer, banging on the door. Langston Graham. Betrayal. Broken glass, a shot, Chuck.

"Chuck, I need to speak to him."


It felt strange to walk into her mother's kitchen. Nothing seemed changed since she'd last been there, unlike Sarah's life that had become utterly unrecognizable. The first thing her eyes gravitated towards upon entering was the large man by the counter with his back turned to her. She felt an immense calm immediately.

She stood rooted in place as her eyes took in the man who had come as such a surprise. Only three weeks ago, this man was a complete stranger to her, someone who could impossibly exist, someone Sarah could never ever conjure up in her wildest dreams. But then they did meet, and she knew her life had changed forever.

He looked tense; she could see the worry in his stance, the tension in his shoulders and neck.

"No, Ellie, I'm fine. I promise. It's not unlike them to have me fly over again. It's just a routine checkup. Yes, Morgan can handle the store without me."

Sarah couldn't help but smile. Even when he talked about something as mundane as Buymore, she could hear the sincerity and love in his voice. This man truly cared for his people.

She sighed softly, which must have alerted Chuck because he turned around in an instance. His eyes wide, anxious. He looked tired, disheveled. But then, his eyes found hers and he relaxed visibly.

"Hey, El, I'm going to have to call you back." His eyes didn't leave Sarah's. She felt almost nervous how intensely they looked at one another.

"Love you too," with that, he ended the call and lowered his phone.

"Hey," Sarah managed to say.

"Hey," Chuck replied softly.

She didn't know why she was being so awkward; this man had just saved her life.

"How are—"

"How are—"

They stopped and smiled at the same time.

"You're erm—" Chuck said nervously as he came closer. She held her breath as he walked into her space, his beautiful dark brown eyes so close to hers. His lips. She felt his fingers lightly brush over her shoulder.

"You're bleeding," he said softly, the worry noticeable in his voice.

"Oh, erm," Sarah looked down to the bandage but quickly got lost in the sensation of Chuck's breath on her, his long, slender fingers reaching out to the dirtied bandage.

"Here, let me, if I may, of course," Chuck backtracked a little, suddenly very aware of the position they were in. Before he could completely step out of her space, however, she reached for his hand and pulled it close to her.

"Please," she said. He took her plea in silence and softly removed the bandage from her broken, torn up skin. Sarah winced to which he stopped to make sure she was alright.

"I'm ok, it just… burns a little," she smiled sheepishly.

Chuck continued more carefully until finally, the bandage was taken off and her skin was left bare. Sarah looked at it, surprised at how small of a wound could cause such pain.

"Does it hurt?" Chuck asked, not having moved an inch, perfectly comfortable to be in such vicinity to one another.

"Only when I laugh," she chuckled softly.

"Oh no, don't laugh then?" Chuck chuckled softly too. Then their faces calmed, and their eyes found each other again. His eyes flicked to her lips; her heart skipped a beat; she moved in closer—

"I hope you're good with pepperoni, Chuck," They looked up, Chuck took a step back, and Sarah already missed the warmth of his body so close to hers. Sarah looked up to see her mom in the door opening with a big box of pizza in her hands. Her eyes flicking between her daughter and the tall man whose face had reddened significantly.

"Pepperoni sounds lovely, thank you, Emma," Chuck recovered as he moved over to the cabinet above the sink to take out three plates.

"Emma?" Sarah exchanged looks with her mother as she sat down at the table, her mother following suit.

Emma shrugged politely and opened the box of pizza.

"Anything I need to know about?" Sarah looked at both Chuck and her mother who seemed extremely comfortable around each other. Even more so than her mother had been with Bryce, which was no small feat given the number of years it had taken them to get to that point.

"How long was I out anyway?" Sarah asked as Chuck came to sit beside her.

A silence filled the room.

Chuck and Emma seemed to be communicating in silence with a share of looks.

"Mom?" Emma decided to bite into her pizza at that moment.

"Chuck?" Sarah asked more pressingly.

Chuck scratched the nape of his neck at that, followed by some good old rubbing of the hands on the pants.

"Gah," he managed to say.

"Chuck," she grabbed his hand under the table and forced it to a halt on his knee.

"However long it is, I can handle it." She said, her voice a little more demanding than she'd wanted it to be.

"Um, well, three days?"

Her heart sunk in her chest.

"Three?" was all she managed to say.

"Sweetie, you were hit bad, and we couldn't go to the hospital. I did all I could with what I had at home, but you ran a fever. You were extremely lucky. Two inches to the right…"

She didn't need to finish her sentence.

Sarah wanted to ask Chuck about the ring, the mission, where it left them now, but her mother was still very much here, and Sarah couldn't risk her life too. She'd lost too many people to the Ring. She wasn't going to lose her mom too. The matter was pressing though.

"I think I need to lie down a bit more," she ended up going with.

"Is everything ok, are you burning up again?" Emma stood up to feel her daughter's forehead.

"No, I'm fine. Don't worry. Just not that hungry is all. I'm sure a bit of more sleep will patch me right up, mom." Sarah said as she excused herself from the table. She could feel in her mother's gaze she didn't quite believe her, but she let her.

At the door, Sarah turned to look to Chuck who seemed very much uncertain of what to do with himself. Eat the slice of pizza in his hand or get up and follow her.

"Chuck?" Sarah said to make clear what she wanted from him.

"Oh, erm," Chuck looked between Sarah and Emma, then the pizza still in his hand. Eventually he decided to place the pizza back in the box, wipe his hands, and get up too.

"I'll um—sorry, I'll eat it later," he managed to say.

"Don't worry, Chuck, I'll put the rest in the oven, so it stays warm."

She nodded to Chuck who seemed a little in the middle as to how to be there for Sarah without being a terrible guest to Emma.

Sarah, however, didn't care too much about what her mother might think in this instance. She grabbed Chuck by the hand and pulled him through the kitchen door, through the hallway, to her bedroom.

She'd never in her wildest dreams thought she'd be bringing a man into her childhood bedroom let alone with a gunshot wound to the shoulder. That the man in question was Chuck, even less likely.

"You ok?" Chuck asked, his face painted with worry.

"I'm fine, I just needed some time alone."

"Oh," Chuck's face fell a little as he made to move to the door.

"No, Chuck," she grabbed his arm, God how she loved to grab his arm.

"From my mother, I thought it might be best for it to stay between us," she said, her eyes connecting with his. His Adam's apple bobbed nervously. God, make him less adorable, she thought, shaking her head to refocus.

"Right, that might be best, though I think you should have a talk with your mom at some point, Sarah. I didn't quite know how to explain who I was and why we couldn't go to the hospital under any circumstances to save her daughter who was passed out and bleeding to death because of me.

"

Fuck, she hadn't even thought of that. Sarah started to pace around the room as she imagined what it must have been like for her mother to see her daughter bleeding out with some man she'd never even heard of. Come to think of, how on earth had Chuck even managed to land a plane, locate Sarah's mother, and bring Sarah to safety?

"How did you do it?" Sarah asked shyly.

"What? Explained it to your mother?" Chuck asked, his voice a little uncertain.

"No, the plane?"

"Oh, that," Chuck visibly relaxed. "I had a great teacher," he said with a hint of flirtiness in his voice. Under any other circumstances, Sarah would respond to it with an equally flirty comment, but she couldn't now. Instead, she was reminded yet again how this was all her fault. If she wanted to stay in Chuck's life, she had to come clean, and fast.

She looked at Chuck who looked a little lost and way too big for her way too small bedroom.

"Come, sit with me," she eventually said inviting him onto the bed. He did so without hesitation, their knees touching. Chuck with his legs firmly on the ground, Sarah with her legs on the bed.

"First of all, Chuck, I need you to know that none of this is your fault." Chuck was about to protest but she laid a hand on his leg to shush him.

"I know what you're going to say, but I promise you, it's not. None of this is your fault, even if you think it is."

"Second of all, there are some things I haven't told you." She said, her heart thumping fast in her chest. She still didn't feel like telling him was wise, especially out of fear that he'd run the minute he'd hear the truth, but she felt like she was left with no choice. There was no way in hell she'd let him chastise himself for something he didn't do, and knowing him well enough by now, she knew he would and already did.

With a small heart, she began speaking.


Once she started, she couldn't stop. There were many points throughout where Chuck had wanted to intervene, comment, or refute, but given the seriousness of her tone and the vulnerability in her features, he decided it best to let her speak without interruption. He could tell how difficult it was for her to even speak, the tears running freely. At various moments, Chuck had reached out to wipe away some of her tears, which she had thanked him for with a weak smile as she continued onwards.

It was as if she was scared that she'd simply stop speaking the moment she'd take a second to breathe. So, she carried on, until everything she needed to say had been said.

That it was a lot to take in was an understatement. Chuck didn't even know where to start, how to feel, think, breathe. So, he did the only logical thing he could think of. He wrapped his arms firmly around her, not too firmly lest to hurt her, but enough to show her how much he cared and that he wasn't going anywhere. Especially that last point was what he wanted to convey to her so dearly. There was nothing in this world she could tell him that'd scare him or would make him run. Even though it was so clear in the way she retold the story that she'd expected him to run at every other syllable she'd utter.

"So?" Sarah asked after moment of silence, "how mad are you?" She looked down at his fingers that lied in her lap. He squeezed her hand then, softly.

"Why would I be mad?" He eventually asked. She scoffed at that as she let go of his hand, the contact broken.

"Because I lied to you? Because I brought you into this mess?"

"Hey Sarah, look at me" Chuck said, trying to have her look at him again. He lifted her chin softly with his finger, but she evaded his eyes.

"As much as you keep saying it isn't my fault, neither is it yours. It isn't you who's blackmailing me, nor is it you who got you shot, okay?"

"But it is, Chuck. Can't you see? If it weren't for me, the ring wouldn't be where it is today. You wouldn't be in this mess and my father and Graham would still be alive."

A lump formed in her throat. She had never uttered those words out loud. Let alone to Chuck. New tears started to form.

"Sarah, how amazing I think you are; you cannot blame a six-year-old for the success of the Ring. If anything, blame your father for roping an innocent six-year-old into this mess." Chuck admonished himself the second the words left his mouth.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. He's your dad, and it isn't my place to—"

"Chuck, it's ok. You're right. He's definitely to blame. But I should have stopped you, Chuck. I should have told you from the start who I was, who they are, and how they operate. And most of all, I should have known from the minute we bumped into Shaw Graham was a part of it; heck I should have known from the moment I left the Ring they weren't done with me."

"Remind me who Shaw is again?"

"The man at the mansion, you know in front of that god awful painting of Picasso?"

Chuck chuckled at that before turning serious again.

"So, you're saying they didn't know you were with me until then?" Sarah decided to ignore the implications of "with me" since that was a conversation for another day entirely. One she was dying to have, if she was being honest.

"I don't think so. Why?" She noticed Chuck's furrowed brow. She liked the way he looked when he was deep in thought.

"It means they're not as in control as they'd have us believe. The list we saw on the island, you said you've seen it before?" Chuck got up from the bed, a hint of excitement in his voice as if he were up to something.

"Yeah, um, I used to get similar lists. Recruitment as it were."

"Why would the ring want us to hack into your mentor's computer to recover a list of people they clearly have themselves. If I'm on the list, it was made after Graham died, right?"

"Yeah, I suppose so," Sarah replied, not sure where Chuck was getting at.

"So, that means that Graham was hiding something else from the ring. Something they're desperate to retrieve."


Soft light entered the room. They had talked for a while longer on what the ring would have wanted from Graham posthumously, but they'd been drawing blanks. When Sarah had started to yawn, Chuck had urged Sarah to go to bed reminding her that she was very much still recovering from a serious bullet wound. He'd offered to leave, sleep elsewhere, but she'd asked him to stay, not wanting to be alone. Without talking, they'd climbed into bed together, small as it was, though they soon discovered space wasn't needed in the slightest. Chuck had positioned himself on his back first, careful to keep his distance. But Sarah had moved closer, placed her head in the crook of his neck and they'd gone from there.

As her eyes fluttered open now, she found herself the little spoon, held strongly and comfortably by a bigger spoon in the shape of Chuck. Memories came flashing back of her and Chuck in a motel bedroom near the airport in New York. How long ago it seemed. Yet the feelings she'd felt and experienced then still burned to memory. Especially given the fact that she was experiencing them firsthand again now. She sighed warmheartedly and sunk further into his touch, his broad body, his warmth, his strength.

She felt his breath in her neck, softly. And then, his lips hovered over her skin and slowly trailed kisses over her neck. Careful not to touch her still healing wound. Her stomach fluttered with every ministration.

"Good morning," she heard his raspy voice that proved just how early it still was.

"Morning," she smiled into her pillow.

He continued to place kisses into her neck, his hand playing with hers under the covers. She closed her eyes again to let the feeling consume her. Her smile only widening as she felt his hand lift her shirt softly before brushing over her sensitive stomach.

"Chuck," she moaned softly.

"Hmm," he replied into her ear.

"What do you think you're doing?" she whispered coyly.

"Nothing," he grinned into her ear. His fingers not "not" going anywhere, as they slowly started to move up her stomach.

"D'you know you snore in your sleep?" he then said, removing his hand all together awaiting her reaction which, yup, he guessed correctly.

"No, I don't," she shrieked turning around so she could attack him only to hurt herself in the process.

"Ouch," she cursed sitting up straight to inspect her shoulder.

"You okay?" he got up immediately, the playfulness gone.

"I am, just forgot about my battle wound for a second," she said with a hint of smugness.

"A battle wound now, huh?" Chuck smiled from ear to ear before swooping in for a kiss on the mouth. What he planned to be a short but sweet kiss lingered way longer than intended when her hand grabbed for his shirt to pull him closer. He let himself be carried away by the moment, their kiss intensifying. He pulled her closer, one hand coming to caress her face when—

"Sarah, are you alright? I heard a scream," they let go and snapped their heads to the door as two teenagers caught by their parents. Though they probably very much looked the part given the compromising position they were in and the shocked look on Sarah's mother's face.

Before they could protest or salvage the situation, Emma had already closed the door again with a woops face, and Chuck had toppled out of bed in his attempt to create some distance between him and Sarah.

"You alright?" Sarah laughed as she got up to see Chuck lying on the floor in no mood or effort to even get up.

"All good, nothing to complain. Soft floor, check. Nice view, double check."

"You dork," Sarah threw a pillow at Chuck that hit him straight in the face.

"Hey," he exclaimed before throwing the pillow back to Sarah who he missed miserably.

"You deserved all of this, calling me a snorer."

"Fair," Chuck said as he got up again before plopping on the small bed almost resulting in Sarah falling off the bed.

"Watch out," she said as she tried to hold on to him.

"Just so we're clear though," he said as he wrapped his arms around Sarah and pulled her onto him. For a second, he seemed to have forgotten what he was going to say, more distracted than anything by the sudden contact of skin on skin. Sarah's bright blue eyes only inches away from his. His eyes flicked to her lips, so sweet and enticing.

"You were saying?" Sarah nudged his nose with hers.

"Right, uh… what was I saying?" his eyes flicked down Sarah's body that was lying on his. His hands having natural landed on her waist.

"You said something along the lines of 'just so we're clear'," she reminded him.

"Right," he snapped back to reality.

"While you don't snore, you do talk," he hid his face in the pillow next to him to avoid her wrath but it didn't come.

"What do you mean, I talk? What do I talk about?" she asked, soberly. He looked up again, her face in a stage of surprise and curiosity.

"Is it something bad?" she continued, a small frown painting her beautiful face.

"Um, no, nothing bad. Just curious really. Who's Ruby?" he asked. It wasn't the first time he'd heard her say the name. Throughout the three days they were worried out of their minds about her health, she had muttered the name on multiple occasions; Usually, these utterances coincided with a heavy fever.

"Ruby?" she asked, her face unreadable.

"Um yeah," he said as he watched her get up to sit on her knees on the bed. He already regretted bringing it up, wishing they could go back to a few minutes ago when she was still lying on top of him.

"I'm sure it's nothing, I must have misheard," he tried but he was already too late for she had gotten up off the bed altogether.

She looked around the room for a hot minute, in search of something, but didn't seem too locate it as she stepped out of the room.

"Um, everything ok?" Chuck asked getting out of bed too. Damn you, and your big mouth. Why did he have to be so curious all the time. He didn't get much time to admonish himself, however, as Sarah already reentered the room holding a photo album of sorts.

She sat down on the bed and flicked through the pages until she found what she was looking for.

Then she turned the book around so Chuck could have a look. It was a photo of a group of young cadets, all smiles, proud to be wearing their USAFA uniform. Sarah wasn't hard to spot; she was the most radiant person there. She looked a little younger, not too much, but a tad less burdened than she revealed to be. Next to her stood Bryce. Chuck noticed his arm around her waist, and it caused a pinch of jealousy.

"I don't know who I should pay attention to," Chuck eventually said, trying not to focus too much on Bryce. He's in the past, he tried to remind himself.

"Not who, what," Sarah said. She pointed to the ring around her finger. In fact, they were all wearing one. Sarah's happened to be—

"Ruby," Chuck said.

"Exactly, we all get one first week of school. I had to hand mine in when I got kicked out; I guess I must have talked about it in my sleep," Sarah said as Chuck inspected the picture from up close.

"Do you have a picture of the ring?" He then asked.

"It's probably in there, why?" she asked as Chuck started to flip through the book until—

"Aha, there it is. Does Graham have one?" Chuck's fingers trailed over the different crests on Sarah's ring.

"Um, yeah. Everyone at USAFA has one. His was—"

"Emerald, by any chance?" He asked looking her straight in the eyes.

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"Because I've seen it before."


A/N: Dumdumduuuuh, the plot thickens. I hope this chapter was worth the wait, so sorry once again! I can't promise when the next update will be, hopefully sooner than 1.5 years. Do know that I'm still very invested in Chuck and this story. Just gotta find the time, sit down, and commit.

Would love to hear what you think, and until next time x