Sarah's words echoed inside his head, bouncing, tinny, as if uttered from afar. The surreal quality of the interaction only worsened. He could not make sense of anything, least of all the impossible look on Sarah's face, her blue eyes so warm, so soft, despite the sadness that radiated from her.

Protecting me?

Chuck was on his feet, rushing towards the window, away from the bed, from her, before his own actions registered. There had been no act of his will; his movement had been reflex. He retreated from Sarah's hand on his shoulder, her closeness to him, the look on her face, and the tone of her voice.

The words she said had triggered the reflex, the retreat.

Everything bad, every single tragic event in his life somehow had begun with that phrase. That phrase was supposed to explain everything but it explained nothing. His mother and father both abandoning him and his sister, each separate acts, spanning ten years—meant to protect him and her. Bryce's derailment of his life by framing him for cheating—Bryce's way of protecting him. Jill's lies and betrayal—explained to him in a moment of sincerity as her hope to at least protect him. Ellie's hand-me-down obligation that had driven a wedge between him and her–his sister's goal of always keeping him safe.

Before they were together, Sarah's first priority had been protecting him, a double purpose– under government orders, but also under a personal vow, the vow more important, especially when her double purposes conflicted. How many times, how many different, desperate situations had arisen because one of them was protecting the other?

Why was the cost of being protected always misery?

The very reason why he and Sarah were here, close together in this room but together like strangers, distant…was because Sarah had ignored his instructions on the bullet train—in order to protect him.

He did not blame her; there was no more room in his aching heart for added resentment. But her need to protect him then had cost them everything. And now…she was protecting him? Again? At what cost now?

He was weary of that excuse, protection, sick to death of it, especially hearing it from the person who mattered most to him, the person who was his life.

His back was towards her. She stayed seated on the bed. He almost turned, but was afraid he would see hurt on her face, the result of his pulling away from her, see it mixing with that unmistakable depth of affection he knew he had witnessed but couldn't fathom.

"From what? What does that mean?" he asked, his voice flat as he struggled to stay moderated, neutral.

"Chuck," she stated, her voice louder, but cracking, breaking.

He turned around finally, unable to ignore the sound of her pain. Tears had streamed from both eyes, the wet trails betraying even paler skin beneath her makeup.

Softer, he said, "I know how hard this must be. But you said you'd explain. Just… explain. I promise I won't interrupt you. I can't stand not knowing."

"From Veritas," she answered, the words like acid that burned her mouth, "I was protecting you from Veritas." She paused, collecting herself, regaining control of her emotions. "You know who they are, right? You flashed."

"Our old friend Edgar, right? Ted Rourke's protege…went into hiding after we took Fulcrum down," Chuck explained in a monotone, sticking to facts only, in accord with his promise not to interrupt her.

She nodded silently, still gazing at him softly.

He clamped his teeth together, hard, to keep from talking. The words were there, in his mouth, ready to spill out. Veritas, whoever they were, whatever they were doing, had no way of knowing he had a functioning Intersect. No one did. The word itself was never spoken, ever. The Intersect flashed information he passed along to General Beckman was disguised as hacking intelligence. Even John Casey, now Beckman's deputy director, had no idea of what Chuck was doing

Some of his urgency, his desire to blurt everything out, must have shown on his face. She shifted the quality of her gaze and she sat upright, facing him, squaring her shoulders.

"Edgar Tipton and Nicholas Quinn were friends. Edgar went rogue, to Fulcrum, after Quinn was captured. Quinn wanted the Intersect, as you know. He told Edgar everything. I heard them on that plane, even though not all of it made sense to me at the time. Ted Rourke gave Edgar that piece of the key. But it was worthless without the Intersect.

"Fast forward a little, and Edgar finds out about Quinn's death. Recruits everyone he knows still on the wrong side of the law…and creates Veritas. They made money as spies for hire, but the ultimate goal was what it always seemed to be–the Intersect."

"Sarah, there is no Intersect," Chuck interjected, a vague pride in himself for waiting for her to pause. "The government is not rebuilding it. The last Intersect room was destroyed…and the last version was officially removed."

Her eyes were on fire as she looked at him. "That's what everyone thinks. But that's not true, Chuck."

How was that not true? Why was she contradicting him? He was tired of this circular argument, of the Intersect around his neck like a noose.

"You aren't making sense, Sarah," he added, a hint of his frustration in his tone.

"I know. It's just…it's complicated," she said.

Complicated. Damn, he hated that word. It was always on offer when protection failed to explain. He gave her a sharp look, a non-verbal refusal of that excuse.

"Everything was there…in Quinn's base in Japan. Edgar is fully aware of that."

Chuck took a step towards her, raising his voice. "Sarah, the NSA, and the CIA for that matter, spent five days searching a 200 square mile radius around Tokyo. When you were missing." His voice wavered, the memory of those days still painful almost a year removed. "Nothing was there."

"It was there. I was there, Chuck," Sarah swore.

He staggered backward, shocked.

She let him absorb the information for a few seconds before she continued. "Do you know what X-13 is?" she asked.

"Yeah," he answered. He didn't know what, if anything, she remembered, and consequently, he assumed everything was unknown to her from their past. "Morgan, and Jeff and Lester, both at different times, were dosed. It's a knockout gas, supposedly with a 48 hour twilight effect. Always seemed to show breakthrough, though. That was how Jeff and Lester eventually found out about us and the spy base."

"Right," she replied. "And yes, not nearly as effective as it was designed to be."

Sarah's shoulders slumped and her face paled. She winced, squeezing her eyes shut before she continued, and then she looked at the floor. "Breakthrough, Chuck. I remembered…everything that happened in between waking up in the trunk of Quinn's car until I woke up in the Maison23."

Chuck, afraid his legs would give out, sank down on the bed next to Sarah. She kept her gaze fixed on the floor. "Wh-when? When did you…how did you…"

"I'll get to all that, Chuck, I promise. But you have to understand that. The memories of you, of us, of all of that life, were missing. I remembered those memories being…removed, but not anything specific about what they were. I knew they were gone but I didn't know what was gone, except in…general terms. My memories of our happiness. Removed."

"Removed?" he echoed, his voice filling with dread. "What does that mean… removed?"

Her eyes filled with tears. "It means…Quinn didn't use my…dysfunctional Intersect opportunistically to get what he wanted. He used my Intersect to erase my memories. Very specifically."

The warehouse…the light…an emergency beacon…Sarah screaming in agony…

The images in his mind connected, painting a horrifying picture, one he couldn't shake. He recoiled, backing away from her, disgusted with himself for what he hadn't known.

"Chuck, no, listen to me!" Sarah's cool hands were on his face, holding his cheeks, pulling him closer even as he wished to pull away. "None of that was your fault. I know how desperately you were looking for me."

He opened his eyes, surprised by how close her face was to his, how intimate the contact felt. She kept her hands on his face, and he could feel callouses, familiar callouses. Her breath on his face was hypnotic, the air in between them charged with electricity. For a brief second, Chuck thought Sarah might kiss him. The distance was gone; they were not strangers.

But then she pulled her hands away, folded them in her lap again.

"I was the only one still alive who knew where Quinn's base was. And Edgar figured that out. He also figured out that I…still have an Intersect. Quinn had no suppression device in his possession. The equipment in that lab, the one Quinn was trying to take you to before we caught up to you on the train, has the ability to sort of…transcribe…the Intersect…from a human brain, back into code. Almost like reverse-engineering. Quinn got that from Fulcrum, you know. They had the technology. That was why they were looking for Bryce for so long."

"Wait…you…you…it's not suppressed?" he exclaimed, breathless. "If it's still in your head, then it can still damage your memory! You have to–"

Sarah pressed her fingers against his lips to silence him. "Ssh." She waited for his mouth to relax. The hushing was gentle, sweet, not the least bit harsh, no anger or frustration. "I'm alright, I promise. It doesn't work, doesn't fire, not like yours. I heard Quinn say that while he was testing me in that lab. He changed his mind, the plan, when he realized how much harder it would be to extract."

He paused, letting everything she said permeate his mind. He still had more questions than answers.

"How does this…leave us here, where we are?" he asked slowly, exhaling, his shoulders sinking. "I'm so confused, Sarah."

The impossible warmth was back in her eyes, as if underlining her gentle gestures, their intimate moment.

"In April, one of Edgar's men tried to…grab me…outside our apartment. I fought him off, but when I saw his face, all of those memories, the ones the X-13 supposedly erased, came back."

"Breakthrough," he said, understanding a little of the timeline. "And you never told me?" he asked sharply, after a moment of processing.

She winced at his tone. "I told you…we needed some distance. Then I left. You were having the Intersect removed. You were safe."

Chuck was on his feet again, marching back and forth in front of the window. Putting space between them. The snowflakes outside were huge, zigzagging crazily, disorienting him. The snow globe again. Inside it. He wanted it to stop shaking, for Sarah to stop shaking it.

But she continued, imploring. "You know I know about your father. And what he did. Why he left you. I promise, the last thing in the world I ever wanted to do was hurt you…abandon you…the way he did—"

"But you did," he answered, choking on the words and their unexpected bitterness.

She stood and walked towards him, closing the distance between them. "Your father left because he knew the CIA…and anyone else for that matter…would use you and Ellie as leverage against him. He stayed away to keep you safe."

He looked at the carpet, unable to look at her face and deal with his own storming emotions. Gently, she touched his cheek and turned his face to her.

"If someone was after you or your sister, do you think he would have just walked away and left you when you were just a boy?" she asked sharply. He said nothing. "You know he would have taken you with him, defended you with his life."

"Sarah, I'm not 16 anymore. And you…you protected me for close to three years like that, even if you don't remember doing it. When did leaving become the cost of protecting me?"

He stammered over the "leaving," the unspoken me still there and understood. He kept his promise, he understood all of it, but it still hurt. He had a right to feel hurt, didn't he?

Her lower lip trembled before she clenched her jaw tightly. "Because they aren't after you. They're after me." Her eyes went through him to the time they were both remembering. Tears streamed from her eyes again and she was still paler than before. "Leaving you was…the hardest thing I've ever done. By far. But I did it, to keep Veritas away from you, from hurting you. I love you too much to ever let that happen. I love you too much…"

A/N: Thank you to Zettel for pre-reading.