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: The wildest thing happened to me a few weeks ago. I went on a trip to Spain and met four students who study at the USAFA, just like Sarah did in my AU! Turns out most people who study there don't actually end up being pilots, WOOPS. I did, however, ask them how a student can be kicked out and what would happen, so let's just say, I might be able to provide a tad more authenticity to future parts of this story. Bear in mind, I'm nowhere near being a pilot myself, just an admirer of the job. And to be quite honest, we all read fanfiction for the interactions between Chuck and Sarah, don't we? At least, I know I do :)

Disclaimer: Well, to be honest, I think everyone on this site knows by now that we aren't making any money out of it and we don't own any of the rights. I do own all of them mistakes if you remotely care about ownership ;)


It had been a week since Chuck had last seen or heard from Sarah. And crazy as it sounded, he missed her. Right before he had met her, he'd been dreading his life. He'd been sleeping badly for months, stressed out of his mind at the prospect of having to go steal for an unknown entity, a group of people, an individual, a dark shadow threatening him and his sister's lives. When he had finally gotten his first assignment, he had followed his orders without question. The message had been clear. One misstep and Ellie's life would be ruined.

Chuck had booked the flights, seen how his low funds had dipped even lower. He had lied to his sister, told her he had an opportunity to become assistant manager at Buy More and needed to be interviewed by the higher-ups in Chicago. In reality, he had been studying the schematics carefully, making sure he had the proper equipment at the ready if need be. It was only when he had boarded the flight that he had remembered he had a fear of flying.

And then, impulsively, he had asked the woman seated next to him if she wanted to trade. That and he had seen the way his neighbor had been ogling her. Not that the woman had needed his help really. It became clear rather quickly that she was strong and capable enough to fend for herself. But then, his mouth had already started talking and he had offered her to switch places.

After some struggling in which he had embarrassingly talked about his limbs as if they were pieces for hire, and a gruff flight attendant who had very loudly requested them to stop their public indecency, they had managed to switch places and they had ended up laughing and talking for the remainder of the flight.

He had wanted to ask her out, once they had left the plane and they'd stopped in the middle of the passageway. He normally wasn't as forward, but he knew he wasn't done talking to her. He had almost asked her, but then her phone had lighted up, and a man's name had stared back at them. It could be anyone, he had told himself, but even so, the name had done enough to dent his ego and cripple his courage.

So, he had let her go; he had wished her good luck, he had refocused and started his mission to retrieve the object from the storage room. It had gone smoothly, too smoothly, he had thought. Until it hadn't, and he was caught by a guard because of his clumsiness. And then, when all had seemed lost, she had appeared. She had tricked the guard, rescued him, and pulled him aside.

Next thing he knew, he had been slammed into a door, and she had interrogated him as if he were a terrorist. Once he had managed to convince her he was telling the truth, he had told her everything. Stanford, the email, the coded files, the blackmailing. And just like that, she had offered him to help. She had given him his card, told him to contact her when they sent him a new assignment.

And now, he had been thinking about her all week. He had successfully turned in the object from his first mission at an undisclosed drop-off location where a burner phone had been waiting for him. Since then, he'd been clocking into the Buy More every day, the burner phone by his side at any given moment, and he had been waiting, waiting by the phone for his next assignment so he could finally contact her.

And during his wait, he had tried his best to forget about the fact that she was married. But at the same time, all he kept doing was reminding himself that she was married. Because she was, and he needed to move on. He needed to crush the sliver of hope that had taken root when she had laughed warmly at one of his jokes, he needed to incinerate the memory of electricity coursing through his veins at the mere touch of her fingers on his wrist.

And so, he waited.


It had been a week since her interview. A week since she had stumbled upon Chuck in a restricted part of the airport with a Taser pushed into his back. She had really liked him, thinking he was different. But then again, the universe had a cruel way of playing tricks on her as the man who she'd genuinely taken a liking to had been caught sneaking around the storage room.

Of course, she had thought to herself. What did you expect, really?

Another man to let her down.

When she had confronted him, however, she had quickly learned she had him pegged right after all, and he had simply been handed a very sour batch of lemons. Without thought, she had offered to help him. He'd been just as surprised as she was, questioning her motives. But she had meant what she'd said. He was a good guy who didn't deserve any of it, and while his hacking skills might be on point, his "sneaking" could definitely use some work. And that's where she'd come in.

She wished she could have had more time to talk to him, figure out who exactly was behind all of this. But if her intuition was right, which it often was in such situations, she knew which organization they were dealing with.

Unfortunately, she hadn't had time as her flight had been about to leave. Normally, she had planned to go visit her mother after her interview, but Beckman had been very clear about her orders. Follow her schedule to the T and she might consider giving Sarah a job. After having left her office, Sarah had gone over the elaborate schedule. Beckman had been serious about taking any form of spontaneity and impulsiveness out of the job.

Every Monday for the next six months, she would have to accompany a certain Captain Roan Montgomery on his flights across the country. She had never heard of the man, mainly because he had reached the age of retirement when she was still in high school. And yet, he still flew for the company every Monday like clockwork.

The first flight Sarah would have to accompany was the one leaving for LA in thirty minutes; if she missed that one, she could tell her flight career goodbye. And so, when she had stumbled across Chuck, she had had to cut their planning short as she wanted to at least have a shot at a normal life. Something she had lacked and wanted for as long as she could remember.

Once on the plane, she had realized she wouldn't have time to speak to Chuck before the landing. Montgomery proved to be the complete opposite of what she had expected. He was charming, boyish, and he had wanted Sarah to show him immediately what she was made of, allowing her reigns to the entire aircraft. Sarah had hoped that she might still catch Chuck after having safely landed in LAX, but Roan had wanted to go over various procedures and had asked her which destinations she wanted to fly to in the upcoming weeks since his seniority let him. By the time they had finished and made their plans, the aircraft had been empty, and Sarah had reluctantly taken a cab home.


She had barely taken of her jacket in the darkened hallway when the light in the kitchen flickered on.

"Well, well, if it isn't the apple of my eye."

Sarah sighed as she left her suitcase by the front door and halfheartedly moved towards the kitchen.

"Who would have thought it would take three weeks and twenty-three phone calls for Sarah Walker to come home," he gritted through his teeth, slamming the bottle of wine on the empty kitchen island.

Sarah winced at the sound of the glass surface cracking under the force of Bryce's outburst.

"Bryce, careful," she hissed, taking one of the high chairs opposite him. He lifted his darkened blue eyes, peered through his greasy, uncombed chestnut hair and took her in for a moment.

He then scoffed and took another gulp of the half-emptied bottle.

"I didn't know you still cared about this house?" he said, purposely slamming the bottle again, making Sarah flinch.

"It's my house," she retorted.

"Really," he asked, his voice clipped.

"I was under the impression that this used to be our house, but then you left so, who knows," he said accusingly.

"You know why I left," she reached out to the bottle which Bryce handed her without remark.

"Do I? Because it seems to me that you were waiting for an excuse to leave, Sarah," he watched her intensely as Sarah took a long swig from the lukewarm wine. Since she didn't respond he continued: "You were waiting for me to misstep, Sarah, you were waiting for me to become the reason for your misery, so you could blame it all on me when everything went to shit."

"Sure Bryce," Sarah laughed without humor," you've got me. That's exactly what I was waiting for all along. For you to go sleep with some skank you found on the side of the road in our bed. Geeh, what took you so long, huh?" she took another swig from the bottle emptying it.

"Yes, our bed. Do you know how long it took for you to find out I was cheating on you in our bed, Sarah?" his voice was raised; a dog in a neighboring yard started barking. When she didn't reply, he sighed: "A month, Sarah. It took you a whole month."

"Am I supposed to be clapping for you? Good job Bryce, what a stellar performance, fucking that girl for as long as you did without my knowledge. You want a prize? A reward?"

"Jesus, Sarah. This is not how you're supposed to react to your husband cheating on you."

"Oh, I'm sorry. You want to do it again? So I can react differently next time? So it can be more to your liking?" Sarah spat as she got up and moved towards the cupboards behind him. She opened a few of them, and then sighed with annoyance.

"What are you looking for?" he asked after a moment.

"Scotch," she muttered.

"It's under the sink," he replied. "We thought it'd be funny to put it there," he said barely audible as she crouched down to take the brown liquid out of the cupboard. She remembered that moment; they'd just moved in. They'd been happy. If only just for a moment.

"Sarah, do you even love me?" he asked after a minute of silence in which Sarah had opened the bottle, poured some of it in two glasses and handed one to him.

She was staring down into her drink, her finger tracing the rim of her glass.

"Sarah, I can't keep doing this, not like this. I knew we shouldn't have gotten married after your dad died but-"

"Then why did you," she looked up at him, for the first time since she had entered the house, she kept eye contact. Her eyes were slightly glistening, she sounded wounded.

"Because I cared for you, Sarah. You were hurting, and then Graham died not too much after, and when you got kicked out, I-"

"So it was out of pity," she interrupted him, not wanting to relive any of the pain she had felt during the most horrible two months of her life.

He sighed, evaded her question as he emptied his glass. He then handed it to her and she poured him another one.

"So what do we do now?" he eventually asked.

Since she didn't have an answer for him, she told him about her new job instead.

"Montgomery? Hmm, isn't he the guy who reportedly had a thing with Beckman?" he asked, allowing Sarah's evasion.

"Really? Huh, that would make sense," she replied with a soft smile Bryce hadn't seen in months.

"Yeah, I think your dad told me about it during Christmas at your mom's," he said without thinking. Once he had mentioned her dad, however, the silence and Sarah's coolness returned to the household.

Realizing there was nothing left to say that could salvage their relationship, Bryce cleared his throat and took the papers from the countertop.

"I went to the attorney the other day, I- uh, signed them," he handed them to her, and tried to read her expression but as he looked for a sign, or a twitch, he realized he never could. She had never let him in, not completely. And especially now that her walls had become fortified by an extra moat or two, she'd become unreadable.

She kept her eyes on the pages, as she flipped through them without much attention.

"Listen, it's up to you. I still think we have a shot to make this work, and I want to if you do. But if you don't, all you have to do is sign and it will be taken care of, Sarah."

She felt her head nod, but she barely registered anything of what he had just said. Eventually, she heard the scraping of a chair, she felt Bryce place a kiss on the crown of her head, his hand softly squeezing her shoulder, and then she heard the front door close behind him.

She was all alone in the house. The house. Not theirs, not hers. For a second, she wondered where it had gone wrong. If there was something she or he could have done to prevent any of it. But then she looked around the empty kitchen. There were no photos, no little trinkets or memories of their relationship. The only proof of their existence was currently in her hands, in the shape of divorce papers. She should have known they weren't meant to last when they didn't print out any wedding photos. She should have known something was amiss when they hadn't even bothered taking any wedding photos.

She couldn't stay here. Nor did she ever want to return, she realized. Even when they had moved in, Sarah had decided to keep living out of her suitcase, which she was grateful for now. There was nothing keeping her attached to this place, so she left. She took the bottle of scotch, the divorce papers, her suitcase filled with her only possessions, and she left the house that had never truly been hers.


He felt nervous as he rang the doorbell. He was in a street close to the airport; all the houses looked exactly alike. He hoped he wasn't disturbing, given the early hour and the fact that she had yet to reply to his message. As he was just about to recheck if he had gotten the address right, the door opened.

"Chuckles, what brings you here?" Carina asked upbeat, a fresh cup of coffee in her left hand.

"Uh, is Sarah there?" he asked, trying to peek over her shoulder into the small residence. She stepped into the doorway, however, blocking Chuck's view as she smirked over her cup and asked: "Depends who's asking."

"Um, me? You just said my-," as she started laughing, Chuck caught on that she was messing with him.

"So, is she there?" he was more forward than usual, but he was stressed out about the time frame on his new assignment, and he needed Sarah asap.

"Wow, hold your horses, killjoy," she feigned being shocked by his forwardness, then turned her head towards what he guessed must be the kitchen: "Sarah, your idiot's here." Then she turned around again, and simply stared at him, making him more and more uncomfortable by the minute.

Eventually they heard a sound from inside the house, and Chuck sighed in relief, happy for the uncomfortableness to be over.

"Bryce, I haven't had the- oh, Chuck," Sarah appeared in the door frame next to Carina, fully dressed in a pilot uniform.

"Hi, I uh- hope I'm not interrupting?" he asked, attempting his best to ignore Carina in the corner of his eye who seemed to be very happy to follow the conversation between the two of them.

"No, not at all, let me just go get my things and I'll be there in just a sec, ok?" she asked, already heading back the way she'd come.

"Right, sure," he said more to the air and Carina who was still enjoying her morning coffee.

"So, what brings you here on this fine morning, Chuckles?" she asked, reaching out to his tie like she had done last time.

His ears turned red, and he quickly took a step backwards, tripping slightly over the loose brick in the pavement, which proved to be entertaining for Carina.

To her word, it took Sarah only a couple of seconds to grab her things, saving Chuck from any further Carina inquiries.

"Shouldn't you be going too, Red?" she asked over her shoulder as she headed towards the Porsche Chuck had spotted on his way over.

"Yeah, in a minute. Just inspecting the view for a sec," her eyes lowered to Chuck's private parts, which made him jump and move quickly towards Sarah's car.

"Have a good day, Chuckles," she winked before heading back inside and closing the door behind her.

"She is something," Chuck muttered more to himself, still a bit shaken from Carina's behavior.

"Who, Carina?" Sarah asked, already behind the steering wheel of her car.

As he nodded, still a little flustered, she motioned him to take the passenger seat, closing her own door. Once seated, she hit the gas and a low rumble filled the air.

"So, where are we going?" Chuck asked after a moment, taking in the sleek interior of the car. He had never been in such a fancy or expensive car before. He was glad for Sarah to have taken hers, because he didn't know if he was ready for her to meet his nerdherder.

"Do you make it a habit of calling at a girl's front door early in the morning to then step in her car without knowing where you're going, Chuck?" she asked, as she turned right towards the airport.

"Uh," he managed to say.

"Relax, I'm only teasing. I'm sorry I didn't reply to your text, but I was already running late and when I was about to respond, you showed up. How'd you know where I was anyway?" she asked as she parked her car in a spot right by the airport entrance.

They exited the car, and Sarah showed the badge around her neck to one of the airport's staff who let them pass.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, but the deadline's tonight and you weren't responding so I kind of accessed your information through your phone number," he said a little embarrassed to admit he had resorted to the activity that had landed him in this situation in the first place.

Sarah stopped at that, her arm blocking Chuck from moving any further too.

"Wait, people can do that?"

"Do what?" he asked, not sure he was following, and still too stressed about what she'd think about him basically stalking her.

"Access my information through my number?" she frowned with concern.

"Oh no, don't worry. Most people can't, they wouldn't know how," he chuckled.

"But you can," she filled in.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I- just, Sarah their next assignment is impossible and it needs to happen tonight. And I don't know what to do, I-," she put a hand on his shoulder comfortingly, stopping him from any further spirals.

"Chuck, don't freak out," she searched for his eyes, and only continued once she was assured she had his attention.

"I don't care how you found my information. I just wanted to make sure not just anybody could. Besides, I told you I'd help, right?"

He nodded.

"Ok, so, here's what we'll do. I need to get on this flight, Chuck. Don't worry," she quickly said at the panic in his eyes. "It's a quick flight, we'll be back in about three hours. But I have to be on that plane, Chuck. Otherwise I can kiss any potential career goodbye. You said you have till tonight to get it done?" she scanned her card again, and pulled Chuck towards a small passenger plane.

"Ok, you'll tell me all about the mission, and we'll come up with a plan during the flight. Alright?"

"Sure, thanks Sarah. I-," he sighed and stopped walking. Sarah noticed he wasn't following her anymore and returned to his side. She let him sit with his thoughts for a moment, before she said: "Talk to me, Chuck."

"Yesterday, I was making 11 bucks an hour fixing computers, and now I'm following you, someone I only met last week, onto a plane because I need help to steal from people I don't know so my sister won't lose her job. And I can't figure out why Fleming did this, why he would sell me out like that?"

Sarah sighed.

"Chuck, I wish I could tell you why this is happening to you, but I don't. I do know I will do anything in my power to help you," she squeezed his hand.

They both looked up as a plane took off not too far from them.

"Chuck?" she then asked.

"Hm?" he looked back at her.

"I need you to do one thing for me."

"Yeah?" he gave her a lopsided smile.

"Trust me, Chuck."


This was only the third time in his life that he was on a plane, and the first two had been last week. They boarded the aircraft before any of the passengers had arrived, and Chuck looked around with grand curiosity. Last time, he had been so busy stressing out about the possibility of literally falling to his death, that he hadn't paid much attention to any of it.

As his eyes went over the two by two rows of chairs, the lights in the narrow aisle, the seat belt signs… Sarah watched him closely.

"You like what you see?" she startled him.

"Uh, yeah, hah, I haven't really paid attention to it before. For a guy who's into everything technology, I haven't actually been up close that many planes," he chuckled self-depreciatingly.

"That's an overstatement, it's been three. This is my third plane," he was about to keep rambling when she placed a hand on his shoulder. He stopped talking. He liked it when she did that, touched him.

"I remember, I was there for your first, right?" she gave him an innocent look, but as his mouth fell open, her smile turned into a satisfied smirk. Was she… flirting with him? No, he told himself firmly. She's married. She's just being funny.

"If you like any of this, wait till you see the flight deck," she grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him through the little door. If Chuck's mouth hadn't been open already, it definitely would have as they entered the most impressive room he had ever seen. Everywhere he looked, there were nobs and buttons, instruments and flashing lights all begging him for his undivided attention.

He hadn't even noticed they weren't the only ones in the room until a hand took his and shook it quite firmly. The man before him looked like a real James Bond type. He had an air of debonair, and if it weren't for his Captain uniform, Chuck wouldn't have been surprised to see him with a martini in one hand, and a gun in the other.

"You must be Sarah's husband then. I'm Captain Roan Montgomery, but you can call me Roan. Though the ladies tend to call me Cap," he whispered that last part under his breath, just loud enough for Sarah to catch it – who rolled her eyes. Chuck, however, hadn't listened further than the word husband and was now sputtering to correct Roan's misconception.

"Oh, no, no, uh- I'm not her- I'm just a fr-," as Roan raised an eyebrow, Sarah thankfully came to his rescue.

"He's just a friend, Roan," she passed both of them to get to her chair and started to check various numbers and measurements on one of the dashboards.

"Ah, I see, my bad," Roan said while he kept his eyes on Chuck, seemingly not buying the "he's just a friend" bit just yet. Chuck tried his best to not let the statement affect his external features, because internally, a little part of him had just died.

"So, 'just a friend', who might you be?" he asked poking the wound even further. His bushy brows disappeared in his silver hair.

"Uh- I'm Chuck, Chuck Bartowski," Chuck managed to say.

"Charles, is it ok if I call you Charles?" Roan said as he slapped Chuck on the shoulder with a warm, low laughter.

"Um, sure, although everyone just calls me Chuck," he shrugged as Sarah threw him an amused and somewhat apologetic expression. Roan, on the other hand had decided to ignore Chuck completely and continued to call him Charles as he pushed him into the seat next to Sarah.

"Charles, my man, ever flown a plane?"

Chuck looked up in worry then; being on a plane as a passenger had already been a big feat for him, flying a plane was on another level entirely.

"Uhm, no, but I don't think that's a good idea, I-"

And then Roan burst out into laughter. Sarah too chuckled softly beside him, her eyes glistening, her body shaking.

"Oh, hah, you were just joking. That's- that's really funny," he tried to laugh too, but he was still more than a tad uncomfortable because of the very real second he thought he'd be asked to pilot this plane.

"Relax, Charles. We'd never do that to you. First, you've got to have the proper training, besides, with Walker by your side, you wouldn't even have to lift a single finger," and as he said so, Chuck glanced at Sarah, whose cheeks had reddened a little at the compliment.

"Anyway, Sarah, you think you've got it?" Roan asked as he took a seat in one of the rather uncomfortable looking chairs against the back wall.

"Everything under control, Captain."

"Perfect, then I will see you in about an hour, Charles. Enjoy the flight," he winked, and then put some earplugs in, and lowered a face mask onto his eyes that had appeared out of thin air. A minute later, he was already making a soft rumbling sound.

"Is he serious?" Chuck asked, baffled that the man would just leave them to it and take a nap before they had even taken off.

Sarah who had been writing down various things, glanced over her shoulder momentarily, and then returned to her work.

"Oh, yeah, he is."

That didn't comfort Chuck at all. He started looking around him more nervously, the excitement he had felt for the technology long gone.

"Chuck?" he heard suddenly.

"Hmm?"

"Are you freaking out?" Sarah asked as she lowered her notepad.

"Would you shoot me if I said that I was?"

"No, silly," she chuckled, "I might give you a nudge or something, nudge you out of your funk." She gave him a playful nudge to prove her point. God, she was cute.

He slowly felt his nervousness dissipate, but then he heard sounds from behind him which startled him once again.

"Relax," she placed a hand on his knee.

"Those are just the passengers coming aboard. Nothing to worry about."

"God, you must think I'm an absolute wimp," he shook his head in embarrassment.

"Hey, don't say that. Chuck, look at me," she sought out his eyes. Once his amber eyes connected with her blues, he felt calmer already.

"It's completely normal to be afraid of flying. It's not every day that you go into a metal box thousands of feet into the sky. Sorry, that probably isn't helpful," she said as she noted his eyes widening again.

"What I'm trying to say, Chuck, is that you're definitely not alone in this, and you don't need to beat yourself up for it, ok? And if it makes you feel any better, I happen to be quite the pilot. I'm sure you can even find that in one of your searches, right?"

"I- uh, kind of already did," he confessed with new embarrassment.

"Oh, uh-" she didn't know what to say. As Chuck prepared to go into another apology, they were interrupted by a voice through the radio system asking for various data Chuck hadn't had the faintest clue of.

Sarah put on her headpiece and replied with some equally confusing numbers and terminologies. Then the space became quiet again.

"I have a question," Sarah then said, breaking the silence that had come over them.

"Sure, anything," it was only fair, he thought.

"What um- kind of things did you find out about me? In your search, I mean?" she asked, her face straight ahead, her fingers still going over various buttons every once in a while.

"Um- not too much, I didn't want to pry. I just wanted to look for your address, and the last registered address was recorded in one of your files at the Academy. But I promise I didn't look any further. It's just, your accolades were right under your address, so I kind of took them in too, but not purposely so."

"Right, that makes sense," she said, and then she said some more things into her mic.

"I have another question."

"Uhu?"

"If you found my last known address, how'd you know to look for me at Carina's?"

Crap. He had hoped to avoid that.

"I um- bumped into your husband, and he told me where you might be."

"Oh," was all she said.

He didn't know what to say. Did he even have to say something, did she? He didn't dare to look at her, out of fear that she might glance at him at the same time and then they'd have to talk.

This was stupid, was the next thought he had. Why was her husband such an issue all of the sudden? Chuck had many friends who had husbands. Didn't he? Not really, he realized, as he thought of his friends at Buy More who were lightyears away from being married. And even if they were, none of their spouses would ever come remotely close to Sarah's.

He had been nervous when he'd made his way up the driveway of an ordinary looking house in a neighborhood not too far from the airport. The sun had barely made its way past the horizon; a lonely dog had been sniffing around the dumpster in a neighbor's front yard.

The house had looked deserted from the outside. As if life had never managed to find its way through the now tightly-shut drapes, and the dull-looking front door. Chuck had cleared his throat, rechecked his phone to make sure he was at the right address.

It had been a quick one-minute search to figure out where the young pilot lived. It was the first thing in her files at the academy. Alongside the very long list of impressive looking accomplishments, it had specified her marital status.

Bryce Larkin. Those were the letters still fresh in his mind. Seemingly the only ones that mattered to him once his eyes had accidentally glanced over them. Chuck had been just a click away from researching the crap out of him. But he hadn't. With the smallest shred of restraint left, and an insurmountable amount of respect for Sarah, he had stayed clear from going down that path.

He had quickly jotted down the address the couple was reported to live, he had jumped into his nerd herder and driven in the direction of LAX. He had been standing in front of the door for a good five minutes before he eventually heard the telltale sign of someone approaching the door. With a click of the lock, the door had swung open and a man in boxers and a very pronounced six pack had appeared.

While his hair had been uncombed and he had been sporting a three-day-old stubble, it was undeniable that the man could have been a supermodel or a movie star if he'd wanted to. With his piercing blue eyes, he had looked at Chuck patiently, awaiting whatever query a random man could have for him on a regular Monday morning at 6:30 am.

"Uh, does Sarah Walker live here?" Chuck had managed to say. His heart beating forcefully in his chest. He'd already been nervous to see Sarah again; but he was completely and utterly unprepared to meet her husband.

"Ah, sorry buddy. She's really cool about meeting fans but coming up to her private space is kind of crossing the line," Bryce said sympathetically.

Crap. Of course, he must think I'm a stalker. Why else would a complete stranger ask for his wife at this ungodly hour.

"Uh, no, actually I'm here to see her. She gave me her card the other day," Chuck reached into his back pocket and retrieved the piece of paper he had been staring at for the past week.

Bryce's eyes glanced down in confusion and a tinge of curiosity at the sight of his wife's contact details.

"Ah, my bad. She's yet to tell me. You work for Beckman too then?" He handed the card back to Chuck.

"Something like that," Chuck replied, trying his best to suppress his constant need for honesty. While he usually was a terrible liar. Bryce didn't seem to take notice. Instead, he just yawned loudly, as he clasped his arms around his chest – probably to fence off the cool morning breeze.

"Well, in any case, you missed her. She's staying at a friend's house for the night, since it's closer to work. If you give me a pen, I can write it down for you?"

Another minute passed in which Chuck received Sarah's current whereabouts. And then they had said their goodbyes. Bryce had stood in the doorway for a little while longer while Chuck shifted his little car into first gear.

There had been no sign of arrogance in the way Bryce had taken in Chuck's ride. He had simply waived once Chuck's car moved into action, and he had closed the door behind him.

Somehow, Bryce's politeness bothered Chuck even more than any sense of superiority could have. Because that meant that Bryce was a good guy. A good guy who actually deserved to be with someone like Sarah. And the fact that Chuck had felt a pang of jealousy and wished for Bryce to be a jackass, made Chuck feel like the ultimate jackass.


The silence between Chuck and Sarah hadn't lasted long as Sarah had gotten the go ahead to start their take off. Instead of worrying any further about why Bryce seemed to be such an uncomfortable topic, Chuck had spent the next twenty minutes in a state of fear and awe at the way in which Sarah masterfully steered the plane to an altitude of 35.000 feet. Once they were airborne, and Sarah had made sure to put Chuck at ease and convince him the plane practically flew itself once in the air, they had finally gone over the planning necessary for their first "mission."

Just like Sarah had promised, the flight had been short, and Roan had been out for most of it. Once they both felt secure enough about their plan, Sarah had shown Chuck the various functions and technologies of the buttons and computers in the cockpit. Much to Chuck's delight, he had come to the realization that the workings of a plane resembled strongly to a bunch of flight games he used to play in college.

While he had told his sister last week that he had overcome his fear of flying, it was only throughout the process and careful tutelage of Captain Sarah Walker that he for the first time felt completely at ease at such an altitude. It surely did help that said Captain had a knack for making Chuck laugh at any given moment and that she could make him feel all warm inside by the mere bat of her eyes.


A/N: Poor Chuck, thinking Bryce is good for Sarah... HELL NO. Guess we have to work through some insecurities first, don't ya think folks?

Next on Chuck vs the Pilot: We're going on a little missh. YAY. Who's excited?

Memememe! she says, as she cracks her knuckles and gets to work.

Also, also... please leave a review. You know it will make me happy :)