A/N: This is a long chapter, all of Break Up in one. The potential breaks left the chapters uneven. It is what it is. This episode, for being so important, has a ridiculous amount of Buy More subplot, and limited interactions between Chuck and Sarah, though they are profound. So many WTF plot holes in this episode I almost couldn't manage them all, but I tried. Bryce is there, staying with her, but they don't talk about anything until Castle and the Orange Orange? Where was he sleeping? I feel confident in assuming he wasn't sleeping with Sarah. Sarah ends up in the hospital and Ellie and Devon know. How the hell was that explained? Why would Bryce have an injury that Devon needed to treat? How did Devon not know what Bryce looked like? Didn't Chuck take the Stanford photo and display it after Alma Mater? How does Sarah get out of the hospital with Ellie there and an enemy agent to deal with while she's in a johnnie? All she had was her evening gown...right? Did she run back to the hotel to change? With no car, since she was brought in an ambulance? Did Bryce think drawing that much attention to her with the flowers being a good spy? We never see Ellie ask Sarah to be the bridesmaid, but it's just known at the end. Wow, that's crazy, right? Anyway, here goes.

I had Bryce pinned to the ground with my gun in his face before I realized who he was. I don't know if he thought he was being funny, or cute, or whatever, but hiding in my hotel room was a stupid thing to do and he was lucky I didn't shoot him, even by accident. Did he not know me at all? But I had to remind myself, he didn't. Not in the slightest. Maybe he thought he had, before he stopped trusting me and went semi-rogue.

The woman he encountered here, almost one year later than the last time I had seen him, was someone Bryce didn't know. Being in Burbank had changed me, and that change had solidified once I had made the decision to stay with Chuck instead of leaving with Bryce.

But I was still dangerous, and though he was pinned down at gunpoint, he was chuckling. That infuriated me.

"Easy there, killer," he chuckled. "Is this how you say hello to an old friend?"

I growled at him and put my gun away before I rolled off of him. "What the hell were you thinking?" I stood up, huffing. "You're lucky I didn't seriously hurt you." I crossed my arms. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you think?" he quipped back. "A mission. Or more specifically, the same mission you know all about. Taking down Fulcrum…and protecting Chuck."

"That's my job, remember?" I snapped at him.

He was still flippant, and only then seemed to realize that I was genuinely angry and not in the mood for him. He sobered, his smile gone. "Is that why you didn't come with me when I left?"

"I had a job to do. I've never just walked away from my duty. I thought you knew that," I explained. It was the same argument I had given Chuck when he'd been amazed that I stayed. Bryce had no idea how close I had come to leaving with him, just as Chuck still had no idea. My confused status, my inability to examine my own feelings, however, was not for me to air in front of him.

I could have asked him about Graham and the random phone calls I had received, and I know I should have now because I never had an opportunity to get clarification. I pushed it out of my mind, trying to focus on the matter at hand and hopefully cycling back to my initial questions at a later time.

I saw his suitcase on the table near the window in my room. It was open, like he was making himself at home while I was out.

"You think you're staying here?" I asked, pointing to his suitcase. I tried to sound neutral, not incensed that he should be so bold to think he could without asking me.

"I was hoping that was ok. Helps me keep a low profile. I'm still deep undercover," he told me.

The CIA couldn't spring for a separate room? I thought. But I also bet he never even thought it was something he needed to do. He thought we were "ok" or whatever he meant in the back of the car right before we were ambushed. My staying behind and the choice that it symbolized was not apparent to him, and the words I had just said hadn't helped clarify.

Did he think he was just going to share my bed as well? Like nothing between the last time in Mexico and now had ever happened?

I needed to make it very clear what the boundaries and expectations were before anything progressed. "I can call down to the front desk and have them bring up a cot for you."

That smug look, with his eyes twinkling, disappeared completely. I guess he had assumed that, now, hadn't he? I think I had sort of convinced myself that the way I had felt about Bryce was somewhere in between my feelings for Sam and my feelings for Chuck. While that may have been true before I met Chuck, I now had Chuck for comparison. I questioned my own feelings, irked that he just assumed I would continue fucking him like I always had, that nothing was different.

Who had he been with while he was away? I'm sure he wouldn't have told me, sure that it wouldn't have mattered to me. I wasn't jealous, and I never had been with him. I had watched women kiss him and grope him all the time when we were together; it was normal, at least for us. He apparently didn't care if I'd been with anyone else.

But I hadn't. The last time I had sex was in August of 2007, with him in Mexico, the night before he left. Over a year ago. It seemed unimaginable, crazy, after my life before all of this. Once the time was there for me to examine, I was sure Bryce had found someone else. "Girlfriend" or random fuck in an elevator…Bryce Larkin had no need to wait 12 months for sex.

For me, it had been 12 long months of wanting someone I couldn't have. A year of just barely satisfying myself alone in my bed, wishing for more.

The old me, the Sarah who existed before she met Chuck, presented with this scenario, would have fucked Bryce here, just for the sake of release. Maybe he was a liar, and didn't trust me, and didn't care all that much about me…but he was a good fuck, a guaranteed orgasm that would have felt like what I had been craving all along.

But I wasn't the old me anymore. Chuck had started to change me. I wasn't interested in just a good fuck. Bryce would have let me use his body to please myself, and done the same to me. I was still craving the physical sensation, don't get me wrong. I was still human, and I wasn't a nun. Only now, there were other things I associated that feeling, that craving with. And all of it was Chuck.

I wanted Chuck. I knew Chuck, and though I had only really fully kissed him twice, I knew being with him like that would have been different from anything I had ever experienced before. It was why I had become obsessed, why I dreamed about him almost constantly–heavy, erotic dreams that woke me. The stark contrast was undeniable as I stood there contemplating.

I had been waiting for such a long time. And I would continue to wait, almost hopelessly, having the opportunity but no will to allow anyone else to touch me while I had such strong feelings for Chuck. That unfortunately didn't last, once I thought Chuck was lost to me forever, but that is also a story for later, one of the worst things that I have to talk about.

"Thank you," he replied, not sounding thankful in the slightest. But he understood, at least, that I wasn't going to sleep with him. He would try one more time before I shut him down, but I thought here, I had made progress.

The knock on the door startled me, which was unusual. Normally, I could hear someone approaching in the hallway, my spy senses were so fine-tuned. Bryce had me in a tizzy, as Casey would have said.

"Who is that?" Bryce whispered harshly, ducking to the side, away from the peep hole.

I stood on my tiptoes and peered out through the tiny glass viewfinder.

It was Chuck.

I couldn't breathe. He looked different, in a white dinner jacket, over a t-shirt. His hair was combed back. He had a bottle of wine in one hand, and a red rose in the other. I have never felt two separate emotions at the same time that were so dichotomous–my spirits rising and crashing at the same time.

Chuck had a conversation with Roan. That explained his attire, and perhaps his unannounced appearance at my hotel door. Only he would see Bryce here, with his suitcase, and think…what he had always assumed about Bryce and me, and what I never chose to correct for him. I had to stay neutral, in front of both of them.

There was no way out of this that didn't hurt Chuck in the process. He had been hurt enough, over and over, by this yo-yo situation, these ups and downs that were tearing our hearts out. I hated the idea of hurting him again, but I didn't know what else to do in order to keep everything on an even keel. Give too much to Chuck, and Bryce's hackles would be raised. Give too little to Chuck, and Bryce would think I was available.

"It's Chuck," I whispered, back over my shoulder so he could see my lips, since the whisper was super soft.

Bryce made this odd face, like he was surprised, but also amused. I wanted to wipe that look right off his face, but I couldn't.

Instead, I answered the door and said hello to Chuck. He flashed one of those smiles, the one that made my insides liquify and rush to my feet. I was still searching for the right thing to say when Bryce grabbed the door that I was holding relatively closed, and pulled it away from me to show himself to Chuck.

Bryce said something snarky, like, "Miss me?" or something like that. I was so angry, I don't recall the exact words. Did Bryce not honestly know how much of an ass he was, treating Chuck like he was a teenage boy for showing up at my hotel?

I also don't remember exactly what it was that Chuck said, how he replied to that. He was embarrassed, and shocked, and his face fell. The beautiful smile disappeared and his eyes clouded, troubled. I know it was a series of stuttering words that eventually made an almost-sentence, about not wanting to bother me, he should have called first, he would let me get back to whatever I was doing…and he would see me tomorrow.

I tried to follow him out into the corridor, but as I tried to close the door, Bryce left his foot in the way and the door stayed open. Bryce was watching, so I didn't call out. Chuck moved so quickly he was already around the corner and at the elevator before I could do anything.

I bristled with irritation, and it was all directed at Bryce. Showing that to him, however, was ill-advised. Keeping my emotions close to me had been my standard, but I was worn down after a year of being with Chuck. Perhaps a little more of that irritation showed through than I would have ever acknowledged before. I grumbled and got ready for bed in the bathroom. He called downstairs and asked for the cot. I didn't really own any conservative pjs, so I just grabbed a t-shirt and shorts I would exercise in. He had never seen me look like that when I went to sleep, but he had also never shared a bed with me to actually sleep. My grumpy disposition shut him up, at least then, so I could get some sleep. Once the cot was upstairs, he retired as well.

When I woke up, Bryce was nowhere to be found. It was strange, since I was a pretty light sleeper and I thought us being in close quarters like that, he would have woken me up when he got up and got ready. He should have, I should say. I chalked it up to the fact that he was a spy, a good spy, and moving in stealth mode was his specialty. I avoided the fact that it seemed more proof that I had gone a little soft, certainly not something I wanted him to know.

I went to the Orange Orange, checking to make sure Chuck was already at work at the Buy More. I was working only about an hour before Casey let me know Beckman had called us down for a briefing. It was unusual again, but my stomach burned when I thought of seeing Chuck after that disastrous interaction the night before. He had been so…crushed. I was afraid of how he would be, to be honest.

We were far beyond the Lon Kirk incident, so I know I shouldn't have worried quite so much. As emotional as he could be, Chuck could temper his responses to most things when he needed to. When I saw him again in Castle the next morning, he wasn't brooding or sullen. He was just curious, wanting more information about why Bryce was here in Burbank. I didn't know, either, but I had a feeling it had everything to do with the information Beckman was about to divulge.

Chuck made it a point to ask me about where Bryce was staying. He asked, "He's not staying with you, is he?" Bryce had almost made that assumption, that we would just start up again where we had left off. Now it seemed Chuck had done the same.

I was sharp, perhaps a little too sharp. "Not now, Chuck," I snipped, keeping my voice low. I think I must have been glaring at him, because it was enough to get General Beckman to comment about us mumbling under our breath.

Beckman explained that a Fulcrum agent had stolen highly classified information out of the DNI, information that was meant as an update for the Intersect. We had never really heard anything like that discussed before, but it made sense. The version of the Intersect Chuck had downloaded from Bryce's email would inevitably become outdated, as well as missing every bit of information mined for since the program had been isolated inside Chuck's brain. His Intersect needs information to be downloaded. Anything beyond that is next gen, as the experts say. Almost ten years later, and Chuck's current version is nowhere near capable of that. He found out not too long after downloading the last version he has, that the 3.0 was different from the 2.0. That is also for much later.

Immediately, I was concerned about our covers. Beckman confirmed we were right to be concerned. I'm not sure why, but the entire time Beckman was talking, I felt Chuck's eyes on me, intense, while I focused on the screen and what Beckman was saying. I'm sure he was thinking about Bryce.

Beckman explained about Von Hayes, who was suspected to be in possession of the stolen intel, the chip, as it was called. She told us the mission was to go to his party at his lavish estate posing as a married couple, to find the location of the intelligence. Chuck got excited immediately, for obvious reasons, but something was up. Bryce was here for a reason, and I was sure Beckman wasn't just leaving him out. I hadn't talked to him yet today, so I wasn't sure either, but it made more sense. Chuck was just being hopeful.

He smiled at me like he had at the door the night before, leaving me barely able to contain my reaction, which I needed to do in front of Beckman.

Beckman cut him off, and rather harshly, although for her, it was just business and she was being practical. She told him the mission required a "real spy." Chuck took that label as an insult, for the reasons I have already explained, about what he thought he needed to be in order to be worthy of me. To be fair, my lack of normality was just as much an insult to me. There was no legitimate reason why Beckman wanted Bryce and not Chuck to go on the mission, other than Bryce had already done legwork outside of our experience.

The more I think about it now, the more I realize Bryce must have insisted he be sent instead of Chuck. At the heart of the matter, Bryce's top priority since he left Burbank last November had been to protect Chuck. Any opportunity to keep Chuck out of harm's way, Bryce was an advocate of. Was part of that a penance for his sin of putting Chuck in harm's way in the first place? With hindsight, I know that's probably as close to the truth as I will ever know. Was there also Bryce's arrogance involved? Absolutely. Arrogance was Bryce's fatal flaw, and in the end, what cost him his life.

I know now that at some point during this mission Bryce started to realize I had feelings for Chuck, real feelings that transcended anything I had ever had with him. His concern was for me, understanding all too well that as a spy, emotions could compromise us. The mission had to come first, our feelings second. He and I were able to do that…because of the nature of what we allowed ourselves to be. I don't know when it happened, or what he said to Chuck, but Bryce tried to pull me back from the edge, then enlisted Chuck to do it once Bryce believed I was too far gone.

Chuck only told me this on the train, after we were together, and we had that full discussion about Bryce. Chuck confirmed what I had only started to suspect here. Bryce figured out that I stayed in Burbank, not for the sake of my job, but for Chuck's sake. Him, not my asset, not the Intersect…but him. The man I loved. Bryce wasn't jealous of Chuck; we never got jealous in that way, because of the relationship we had as partners and bedmates. Bryce was never jealous when it came to me–because he never saw me as belonging to him, not in that way.

I honestly believe Bryce thought he was saving me. Just like he had saved Chuck at Stanford, or me in Lisbon. This time, during this mission, Bryce thought he was saving me from myself. Keeping me able to do my job safely. It was only as he lay dying, alone in the Intersect room with Chuck, that he finally understood what saving me actually meant. Delivering me from this life that I had never wanted for myself. It was what he tried to do with his last breath.

It's a tragedy that, in his last few moments on earth, Bryce still was too arrogant to realize Chuck could have chosen for himself. Chuck hadn't needed protection, because Chuck would always do what was right, even if it meant he would have to give up everything. Bryce should have had more faith in Chuck, but his arrogance just wouldn't allow it,

Speaking of arrogant, right in the middle of Beckman's explanation, Bryce made a ridiculously grand entrance into Castle. All I could think of was my teasing him about wanting to be James Bond. He certainly looked the part here, all tanned and sunglass-clad, walking with a swagger that was almost comical. It was so exaggerated. He breezed in, ignored Chuck, and made a grand gesture of supplying the fake wedding rings that were part of our cover, the Andersons, straight from our time in Mexico.

I faked a smile, generically, trying to stay neutral with all eyes on us. Chuck looked like someone had slapped him in the face. Beckman signed off, but I made it a point to tell Chuck Casey would be working on all the specifics, since Chuck was to be posing as a waiter at the party we were attending, with the hopes that he would flash.

I went back to work in the yogurt shop.

Bryce stayed while I was working, making a suggestive comment about my "cute" outfit. I made it a point to tell him we weren't undercover yet, so he could lay off, although I was more polite than that. He brought up "The Andersons," which was our cover when we were together in Mexico. I thought I had been clear enough last night, but I had to say it again, since he seemed insistent, flirty in an uncomfortable way. I told him it was just a cover, not to mix business with pleasure like we had in the past. He seemed disappointed, but he took it in stride.

Whatever had been before between us, it was no more. He was having a harder time accepting that, it seemed. He held my hand, telling me it was fun while it lasted. I just kept smiling, trying to keep my feelings hidden. He must have seen the changes in me and wondered what had caused them. It didn't take him long to realize it was Chuck.

The rest of the day passed in the yogurt shop. At some point during the day, Ellie stopped in while I was working. She asked me if I would be one of her bridesmaids.

I was surprised, but I probably shouldn't have been. She thought of me as her friend, her brother's serious girlfriend of over a year. It bothered me, lying to her, thinking about her wedding–something she would remember all her life, would be tainted with me, the fake girlfriend, the CIA agent. Thirty years in the future, would she point to me in those photos, trying to explain to other people who the random blonde girl was?

I told her I would. She was so happy; she came around the counter and hugged me. I would be lying if I didn't say that while a part of me was lamenting about her tainted wedding, the other part of me was dreaming that in 30 years, her children would look at that picture and know who I was, that I was Chuck's wife, and that we had children of our own. I had to force those memories away, they were so unsettling, so unattainable. I told myself it was for the cover, but she was my friend, as close a friend as I could ever hope to have. She wanted me there; I would be there.

After work was done, I went back to my hotel room to get ready for the mission. Bryce was already back there before I arrived. I had a strange feeling, wondering if he had been rifling through my things when I wasn't there. Not that there was anything to "rifle" through–I had almost nothing personal in my room but my clothes. And the photographs of Chuck and me. The fake Comic Con photo was just that…fake, and someone like Bryce could tell almost certainly. The pictures were there for cover.

Except one of the photos we had just taken at Roan's house was there as well. As I said, the smile on my face, the happiness in my eyes, was obvious in that photo. It was a real photo. Odds were Bryce could see that too, considering I had never once looked the way I did in that picture at any point I was ever in his presence. At least, it must have made him wonder.

I ended up getting ready in the bathroom while he got dressed, while we were waiting for Chuck. I didn't know it at the time, but Bryce was apparently horrendously condescending to Chuck while they were alone in the bedroom in my hotel room. Good natured teasing, I'm sure that was all Bryce meant. Called him "lover boy" as I recall. What a jerk, I mean, honestly. Uncalled for. I also didn't know it until the train, but Bryce basically told Chuck that Bryce didn't think Chuck could just pretend to be my boyfriend, that he would accidentally fall for me. Talk about making Chuck feel two feet tall.

Little did Bryce know…it was me…who fell for Chuck. Of course, what Bryce thought about Chuck was true too. But Bryce meant it as a way to snap him out of it, sort of that same Roan attitude, that why-would-a-woman-like-me-fall-for-a-guy-like-him bit. Once Bryce believed his feelings were reciprocated was where he felt the need to intervene.

They were both ready when I emerged. They were both wearing tuxedos. I had seen Bryce in a tux almost a hundred times. Chuck in a tux was…distracting. Mesmerizing. I don't know if it showed when I saw them, how much longer my eyes stayed on Chuck.

I brightened, asking a generic "How do I look?" comment. It was just a quick blip, so quick I almost missed it, on Chuck's face when he saw me in my red satin dress. That reverent awe, that respectful admiration of my beauty, the kind that started on my skin but ran all the way to the heart of me. Because of Bryce, Chuck reined it in, and made a flippant comment, dismissive. It wasn't something Chuck would ever say, and it shocked me…but I'm pretty sure that disappointment showed on my face when Chuck walked away.

Bryce was squinting at me, the wheels turning. He was starting to see through me…and I hated it.

Everyone was quiet on the way to the party. Casey went over everything again, telling us he would stay in the van and stay in contact. Bryce was too…I don't know, showy? Is that a word? He was playing the role, even when it wasn't needed. We weren't actors. It wasn't like he had to "get in character" or anything. We had done this plenty of times while we were partners. As I explained before, we even kissed differently when we were undercover from when it was us, sleeping together, when he was just my boyfriend.

It was like he was trying to up the ante. Like he was trying to interject our personal feelings into the covers. It was dangerous—he knew that and so did I. That was why I struggled so hard with my feelings for Chuck.

My brain sort of skirted around the idea while it was happening, but I'm certain now that Bryce was jealous. Of Chuck.

A part of him had always been jealous of Chuck. Chuck's close relationship with Ellie. His quality of friendships and their depth. He ultimately felt compelled to save Chuck because he knew the world needed someone like Chuck, and people like him were a dime a dozen. I can only speculate, but despite my reticence and his lack of trust, I did get to know Bryce pretty well. As well as anyone could. Although, my opinion now is tempered with Chuck's impressions from before Bryce was a super spy.

Bryce had never felt jealous over me. But then again, Bryce had never seen me look at another man the way I looked at Chuck. I had never felt about anyone the way I felt about Chuck. I never knew what Bryce expected from me, from our relationship—because we were always just living with the mission coming first. We couldn't think of the future. I'll never know—but I always wondered. It would explain so much.

Chuck went in the back, through the kitchen. Bryce tried to coach him, and Chuck bristled a bit, not wanting spy coaching from Bryce. Bryce and I made our way inside.

There was a band and most of the guests were dancing. Champagne was flowing and there were trays of strawberries laid out, as an accompaniment to the alcohol. The strawberries supposedly bring out the flavor in the champagne. Von Hayes was pouring $2000 per bottle Dom Perignon like it was water, so we indulged. I sipped only, making damn sure the alcohol wouldn't affect me. After those days with the CATS, I refused to let myself get tipsy.

Bryce made it a point to feed me the strawberries. The cover. I continued to remind myself of that. We were a married couple. We were pretending.

I knew Chuck was there, milling about in the crowd, but I made it a point to not seek him out with my eyes. I couldn't play the affectionate role, not while I could feel Chuck's eyes on me. I had to pretend he wasn't there, which was extremely difficult.

It got harder after Bryce kissed me, while we were fawning over each other. It wasn't a cover kiss.

What was his problem? He was making me angry.

The music changed. It was a piece of music appropriate for the lambada, a dance both Bryce and I were quite familiar with. With all the flair of professional dancers, we took to the floor. Everyone's eyes were on us, which was just what we wanted. I pushed it out of my mind that Chuck had to be watching us as well.

We spoke low to each other, communicating the surveillance we had observed. He made a crack about my dancing skills. I was as cold as a dead fish, not wanting to encourage him at all, and perturbed about his crossing the line. He got irritated that I wouldn't let him lead. I heard Casey tell Chuck to stop screwing around, and my heart clenched when I thought Chuck must have stopped focusing on his mission, because he was watching us.

Bryce's only response to my coldness was to further cross the line. At the end of the dance, he kissed me again, the way he used to kiss me before we would have sex. With all those people watching, I had to respond believably. I kissed him back, deeply, dying inside when I knew Chuck was watching.

Bryce and I turned to walk away from the dance floor, in search of the vault, when I knew I heard Hayes, loud and disgruntled. I had a sinking feeling Hayes was berating Chuck for being a terrible waiter. I don't know what he did, but he had to have been pretty distracted. I had heard Casey tell him to get his head in the game.

Once Bryce and I were at the vault, we contacted Casey. He told us Chuck had been fired and escorted out of the house. We broke into the vault, but couldn't find the chip. After several minutes, we made our way back downstairs. Casey was in both Bryce and my ears, telling us by the time we had made it to the foyer, Hayes was getting away…with the chip that had been on his person the entire time, apparently. Bryce broke cover to demand Hayes stay put, pulling his gun.

Casey then said the Fulcrum agent was headed out the back door…with Chuck.

Do you know that old saying…the belief about your life flashing before your eyes when you think you're about to die? Chuck said that to me once before this moment, but I had never had that happen to me, not like it did in that split second. Only, to be fair, it wasn't just my life. It was my life with Chuck, everything I had ever done or said, everything I had never said and wished I had.

It happened that moment…because, almost subconsciously, I knew what Bryce was going to do. Mission first, everything else second. Including Chuck's life. For this mission, right at this moment, he made a split decision, the same one he always had since the first time I had met him. He could unemotionally flip each coin and choose what was most important. I used to be able to do that…but I couldn't anymore. And further, I couldn't let him forfeit Chuck's life for the mission.

I didn't even hesitate. I turned to run after Chuck. Bryce stopped me, asking me what I was doing. I told him I had to protect Chuck, which technically was my primary mission. I had to leave my feelings out of it when I was talking to him. He argued about our covers, stating we were all in danger if Hayes got away, more than just Chuck. Technically, he was right, of course. He looked at me sharply, like he couldn't believe what I was about to do. I shook my head…and took off after Chuck.

Bryce went after Hayes by himself.

I made it outside and spotted the Fulcrum agent holding a gun on Chuck. I screamed for him to get down. We started shooting at each other. One of her lackeys pulled up in a black SUV and she got in. He screeched the tires and drove away.

I ran to make sure Chuck was alright, curled in a ball on the ground beside the sidewalk. I was terrified that he had been hit, since his cover was rather shoddy in the midst of our gunfight. He insisted he was ok, almost out of breath. I helped him to his feet.

At that moment, I heard the quick beeping of an explosive device the Fulcrum agent must have deployed at the last minute before her getaway driver appeared. There was almost no time to react.

I screamed for Chuck to run, but I pushed him over the hood of a parked car positioned right behind us. I was frantic, and I know I pushed him hard. The second to last thing I heard was his body banging on the metal.

The last thing I heard was the bomb, directly behind me as I had turned to run away. I went deaf and blind…burning hot and full of excruciating pain…and then…nothing.

I have a few hazy, dream-like images in my memory about what happened after that. I don't know how much of that was real and how much was imagined. Chuck's hands on my head, pulling me into his lap…screaming…Bryce's voice, Casey's voice…lights from an ambulance…lots of muffled conversations.

I woke up in the hospital, in a private room in the emergency department. My head felt like I had been hit with a hammer. The doctor there told me I had a concussion, and that they were going to keep me overnight for observation. I was still horribly dazed, drifting in and out of awareness. I know Chuck was there, anxious. He was talking to Bryce, but what they said, I had no idea. Bryce never came in to see me. It was so hard to focus, but I know Chuck was trying to explain what the cover was, since Ellie and/or Devon would notice right away that I was in the hospital. Car accident. That was the official line, what the CIA made sure the EMTs reported when I arrived. A car bomb was much harder to explain to civilian medical personnel.

I was still foggy, but Chuck's face stayed in my memory. He was so worried, upset, and feeling guilty, that he had somehow been the cause of my injury. The doctor told Chuck I needed to rest. Chuck looked forlorn…but he grabbed my hand to say goodbye, and then he left. Sleep claimed me like anesthesia.

I woke up late the next morning in my hospital room when Chuck came to visit. He had a bouquet of gardenias, which are my favorite flowers. I tried to recall a time that I might have let that information slip, that Chuck would remember it like that. But Chuck absorbed facts about me hungrily, in every situation imaginable. It was so subtle I didn't recall…but he always did.

Bryce, of course, acted even more foolishly than he had the night before. The table next to my bed was overrun with bouquets of flowers…baskets, vases, containers. The air in the room was heady with the scent, like we were in a greenhouse. What the hell was he trying to do? Was that his jealousy again, because I had gone off mission to rescue Chuck? A low profile would have been the appropriate response in this scenario, not buying out the local floral shop and having them all sent to my room, which was due to be short lived.

If Bryce was trying to make Chuck feel bad by pulling that stunt, he succeeded. Chuck said something about always coming in second to Bryce.

"Not always," I told him. In any way that truly mattered, Bryce was a distant second to Chuck. I wished with everything inside me that I could have told him that. He deserved to know how important he was to me. But I had already almost gotten both of us killed by acting on emotion instead of doing my job. I stayed silent.

But I couldn't help thinking…if that wasn't the perfect symbol for the difference between Bryce and Chuck, I didn't know what was. A room full of expensive, generic flowers that could have been sent to anyone for any reason. Impersonal…but flashy. Compared to a brown paper wrapped bouquet of gardenias that Chuck probably bought at the supermarket. But my very favorite flower, something I must have mentioned to him in passing months and months ago…and he remembered.

Even today, twenty years removed from this instant, when I smell gardenias, I remember that smile he gave me, standing there in my hospital room. The realization, for the very first time, of what it felt like to be loved. Genuinely, honestly loved. I mattered to him, which was what I had been craving my entire life. To matter to someone. To be important to someone else, to be needed.

He sat down on the bed next to me. Apparently Ellie had checked on me while I was asleep, because Chuck told me Ellie told him about my concussion. He apologized, believing his blundering from the night before had caused me to get hurt. I tried to reassure him that it wasn't his job to protect me. He was so sweet it was painful, as I tried to keep my emotions contained while I was still a little dazed and sore. He stayed for a little while, but he needed to get ready for work, so he left. I went back to sleep.

I woke up a few hours later when the doctor, or someone posing as the doctor, came into my room. He looked…odd to me. Too handsome to be a doctor, although I shouldn't say that quite so loudly in front of my brother-in-law. He was leering at me, rather than the usual professional disinterest that most doctors project. Despite my slowly degrading spy skills, I could still read people. He was talking about releasing me, but he had a large syringe in his hand. It was then that I noticed the badge on his lab coat didn't match his face..

Not a doctor. A Fulcrum agent.

Before he knew what hit him, I grabbed his wrist, pulled him forward, and hit him as hard as I could across the face. Using my entire body as leverage, I flipped him down and over my bed, onto the floor, with the syringe at his throat.

I asked him where the Fulcrum agent was. He spilled out everything, the entire plan, apparently that had been coalescing alongside Chuck's conversation with Hayes and his plan, with Casey, to exchange the chip for money. Chuck was the one who talked to Hayes, but Casey set everything up, with Bryce's input, of course.

I knocked my attacker unconscious and kicked him out of sight of the door, in case someone at the nurse's station or someone passing by noticed. I was fortunate that while I was sleeping, Ellie brought some of her clothes to the hospital for me, since I arrived in an evening gown, which wouldn't have been very practical. Ellie and I were roughly the same size, which was lucky as well. I got dressed and discharged myself, then took a taxi back to get my car so I could follow the team to the train station, where the exchange was planned.

By the time I arrived at the train station, things had devolved. The Fulcrum agent had Chuck hostage, while Bryce had them at gunpoint. Hayes was getting away…and Casey went after him. I pressed myself against the wall, hiding from view. Bryce saw me and he knew I was armed. More importantly, he knew I was the solution to their standoff.

We had been in a very similar situation in Columbia about two years before this. While retrieving a package, Bryce and I were chased by some enemy agents. I ran ahead and Bryce was taken hostage. I shot the man over Bryce's shoulder. A very dangerous shot that could very easily have meant Bryce being killed. It was a calculated risk, taking the shot. Odds were better that I would hit the target. Back then, all I needed were odds. Everything was numbers, calculations, all missions and black and white.

Bryce surrendered his gun…but the agent didn't release Chuck. Bryce called for me to take the shot. Odds were…I could make the shot, even from the distance away I was.

I couldn't do it.

Odds…black and white…mission first…none of that mattered, when I thought about making that shot. All that mattered was the possibility, however remote, that somehow in that situation, Chuck could be hurt or killed. I could have been the one to hurt him, or kill him. And it paralyzed me.

I couldn't do my job…and protect him…because I loved him. I knew this, and yet, the words rose, screaming inside my head, so plain to me it was undeniable. I had rendered myself worthless as his protector…and he needed a protector, now more than ever.

What was I going to do?

Casey ended up shooting the agent from behind, not afraid of Chuck's proximity, like I had been. I wanted to wither up and disappear. Chuck was terrified, his belief in me and the comfort it always seemed to give him completely gone. Bryce was looking at me like he didn't know who I was, like he didn't know what was wrong with me.

I was in love with Chuck…and Bryce knew it.

Again, I don't know what Bryce told him. But I know Bryce explained something to Chuck…about me choking like that. Bryce had started out worried about how Chuck might have fallen for me, and now he knew I had fallen for Chuck. He wouldn't dare say something to me, so he said something to Chuck. About needing to put distance between us, for both of our sakes. He wasn't wrong, and I know his motives were pure, but it still stung, after all the stupid crap he pulled with the kissing and the flowers. I go for the negative, and usually find myself somewhere in between, because Chuck always looks for the best, in every situation.

Back in Castle, I tried to defend myself to Casey. He was acting…well, like Casey. He didn't want to get caught up in a discussion about emotions. He almost ignored me when I told him I hesitated, but I knew I could still protect Chuck. He just kept cleaning his gun, like I wasn't there. It was disquieting, disturbing, knowing all that I knew Casey was aware of. I was honestly concerned that he might mention everything to Beckman. He was still running interference here, or I should say, he was still able to run it. There would be a time not that far into the future from here where he couldn't do it any longer. More on that later.

Chuck and I had plans to meet at his apartment, now that his sister had asked me to be a bridesmaid. She wanted me to look at dresses with her. I knew I had to sort of reset Chuck and I again, like I had done in the past. But like I mentioned before, the bar had been raised. There was no setting us back to "it's only a cover" the way I had after Bryce had left the first time. He knew that wasn't true, and so did I. But my goal that night, the conversation I wanted to have with him, was very similar to the things I had said to Casey.

We needed to be careful. I did hesitate, but now I needed to focus again on protecting Chuck. We couldn't let our guard down, for fear of more emotions interfering with our work. The same courtyard discussion from last time, only softer.

Chuck was already in the courtyard, sitting on the edge of the fountain when I approached. He looked like he was talking to himself, like he was rehearsing something.

He was the dearest thing in the world and my insides were blistering in pain at the thought of discouraging his hopes for us. I didn't have a choice.

I said hello and sat down beside him. His eyes were so…sad. God, that broke my heart. I asked him if he was ok. He said there were a few things he wanted to say before dinner. I said I did too, but he wanted to go first. So I let him talk.

"Look, we both know how I feel about you, so I'm just gonna shoot…straight. Sarah, you're the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. You're beautiful, you're smart, you laugh at all of my stupid jokes, and you have this horrible habit of constantly saving my life."

I was blushing like mad, and I giggled. His words went straight through the center of me, like Cupid's arrow through my heart.

"The truth is…you're everything that I thought I ever wanted and more. The last few days, all I can think about is our future together, about what it's gonna be like once I finally get the Intersect out of my head, how we'll finally be together for real…no fake relationships, no covers, no lies."

His face didn't match the words he was saying. If I hadn't been so over the moon listening to all the magical things he was saying, I maybe wouldn't have been so blind-sided at what he said next.

"But the more I think about it, the more I realize that you and I can never have a future together."

At 28 years old, that was the worst bit of news I had ever heard. I went deaf, unable to breathe for a moment. I ran the words over, making sure I heard him right. It didn't seem real, rather a slice of a nightmare. I know the words "broken hearted" are a metaphor, some old-fashioned term for when people thought love actually came from your heart and not your brain. But I swear I felt my heart break. Something inside me broke, of that I am certain. And when he continued, that break widened and then shattered.

"I fooled myself into thinking that we could, but the truth is, we can't. Because even if we had a real relationship, it would never really be real. I'd still never know anything about you–your real name, your hometown, your first love, anything."

My eyes were burning with unshed tears. I answered him in my head. Samantha Burtman. Boise, Idaho. You.

"And I want more than that. I want to be able to call you at the end of a bad day and tell you about some funny thing that Morgan did and not find out that I can't because you're off…somewhere in Paraguay, quelling a revolution with a fork. I'm a normal guy…who wants a normal life. And as amazing as you are, Sarah Walker, we both know that…you will never be normal."

There it was. He said it. It was worse than anything he could have said to me, telling me I wasn't normal. Of course I knew that. That was the reason I was there. My abnormality. I had hoped against hope that somehow it wasn't permanent, that I had hope of being normal, and that he could have helped me get there. But that was asking a lot, too much, for someone who just wanted to be normal.

I had to look away or I feared I would have broken down, not able to hold all the anguish inside me. If I had stayed looking at him, I know I would have seen that same look on his face, the one I feared was finally gone, that it had finally changed.

I don't know where my words came from when I answered him. It felt like someone else, not me, had said them.

"You know, someday, when the Intersect is out of your head and you have the life that you always wanted, you'll forget all about me."

He was as close to tears as I had ever seen him.

"I seriously doubt that," he answered, just above a whisper.

I touched his hair, then pulled my hand down and traced on his shoulder, like I was flicking lint. I had to pull my hand away. I said something quick, like we had to go inside because Ellie and Devon were waiting. I jumped up before he did. I stepped forward, struggling with all my might not to cry. I had to blink away the tears that had collected in the corners of my eyes. I had to take a few deep breaths to steady myself.

I had to face Ellie, and pretend that everything was fine. I had to pretend that Chuck was my boyfriend, though he had just in effect truly broken up with me this time, giving up on the hope that we could be together someday. Forcing me to give it up.

We took one last look at each other, bracing ourselves, and then we went inside.

Ellie grabbed me and rushed me to the table to see all the things she had been compiling, excited for her wedding. I was wearing my best fake smile, trying to feed off Ellie's happiness instead of letting my jealousy of her happiness fester inside me.

I was standing at the table between Ellie and Devon while she was flipping through a magazine. Chuck was leaning on the column behind us. I think I could feel him staring at me, for I turned quickly over my shoulder to look at him.

I did it so fast he didn't have time to react.

His face…the same way he had always looked at me, there, even when I was sure it was gone, that he would never look at me like that again. I felt all my blood rush to my feet,

So yes, Bryce told him telling me…something like that…was the right thing to do. The part that hurt the most was that Chuck didn't say anything in that speech that wasn't true. He wanted a normal life, and he knew he couldn't have that with me. He was resetting us…for my own good, by telling me the truth instead of perpetuating our wishful thinking.

My Chuck, though, he never gave up. He never gave up on me, even when everyone and everything told him he should. He wanted a normal life…and gave it away when it was within his grasp. I couldn't follow him into his world, so he followed me into mine.

He found a way to embrace my lack of normalcy…and he taught me how to be comfortable in my skin. And now, he knows everything about me. And he still loves me the same.

That is the greatest gift he ever gave me.