A/N: As promised, the second half of Suburbs. This is probably my favorite chapter so far, as I loved the end of this episode. Chuck's heroism finally shows through here. How Sarah ends up so bamboozled, well, I try to explain that. Brownies? She forgets her protruding gun over a tray of brownies? I always thought it was so strange that the pictures from this house are all over their apartment once they are married. The propmaster cleaning house I guess, but I tried to explain that here.

Eventually, I gave up on sleeping. In that hazy, half awake state as I lay in the dark, my mind was running wild. I felt like I understood as never before the way Chuck had felt when he broke up with me the first time. Not sure what was real, what was pretend.

I knew no matter how much I wanted it, we couldn't be together like that. Beckman would send me away, reassign me, if I let that happen. I would lose him forever, and then leave him vulnerable. No one could protect him better than me. No one would care the way I did.

Because I did care about him. I loved him too, but at least I could admit to myself that I cared about him at this point.

Was there any harm in showing that? I could pass it off as the cover. I always had back up, an alternative reason that was perfectly logical for the way I was acting.

So I went downstairs, in my nightgown, to make breakfast. He always ate cold cereal and milk at Ellie's. He didn't cook for himself, rather he let Ellie cook for him. When she wasn't cooking, he made do with easy choices.

I wasn't a great cook, either. In fact, I could barely boil water. It took me almost a week at the Wienerlicious before I stopped burning everything. I knew Chuck liked pancakes, but the thought of making them was daunting; the last thing in the world I wanted to do was burn his breakfast. I decided on eggs. Eggs were easy. Eggs and bacon.

I went downstairs early and started cooking. I lost myself in the task. Just as I could be on a cover date with Chuck and let myself believe that it was real, even for that short time, I did the same here. I only had a little while before reality kicked back in—but I had a little while.

I was his wife, cooking him breakfast in my slinky nightgown. This was our house. Trixie was our dog. I was literally singing to myself when Chuck came downstairs. I know I got carried away, so carried away Chuck called me on it.

But a dream is a dream. And when it's so close you can touch it, taste it, feel it in your hands, it is very hard to let go of it. No one who ever wishes on a star knows what they would truly do if the wish suddenly came true right at that moment. And it's worse, I think, when you know that it isn't forever. That you could maybe have everything you ever wanted, but only for a little while. How painful that reality is—to shun it all, or take whatever you could, to savor for the rest of your life?

I wasn't that brave, to shun it. But I knew I wanted something I couldn't have. All along as I had been wishing for the impossible, I had also been telling myself to savor every minute with him, however it was. Because this was as close to happy as I would ever be, and maybe when I was older and alone, I could have those memories to keep me warm when life was cold.

Chuck came downstairs in those ridiculous pajamas. I know he must have been shocked to see me in the kitchen like that. I took a breath, turned around and smiled at him. I asked him how he slept.

He was so funny. He answered, but too loudly, in this weird voice. Right after that, he half-whispered/half-mouthed…what was I doing? Had Casey found more bugs?

I told him I was cooking breakfast, and reassured him the house was clean.

"Well, are we gonna invite the neighbors over?" Chuck asked.

I was so stupidly giddy, playing house like that, that I missed this the first time. Chuck very sweetly told me I had sort of gotten carried away. We were alone in the house. No neighbors to impress, or to pretend like we were married in front of. Just like Ellie's apartment on Valentine's Day. No one there to pretend for. But now, all that awkwardness was gone. That brutal night before had shaken the last bit of uncertainty out of me, it seemed.

"No, Chuck. I-I'm cooking for you." Not even "us." You. But damn it, I was, just for him.

I turned back to the stove and set the frying pan back on the burner. When I turned back around, Chuck had the strangest look on his face. I asked what was the matter.

I started chopping chives, stepping closer to him, feeling his eyes still on me as I worked.

"It's just funny. I never pictured you doing this," he said slowly.

"Well, what can I say? I'm versatile," I responded right away. I had to do something to distract myself from what Chuck had just said.

It seemed casual, just a comment. But it meant so much, in so many layers. He never pictured me like that–domestic, wifely…normal. I was already fully aware just how ab-normal I was, and he knew every last bit of that. I know I focused too heavily on that part of it, and not the rest. And by the rest, I mean…that he already loved me, so much, even though he had never once pictured me in that "normal" way, the kind of wife he would have needed for the kind of life he always said he wanted. I wish I had understood that part of it then–it would have saved us both so much heartache. But we were destined to learn the hard way.

He laughed, continued to be surprised by my, what did he call it, my enjoyment of the whole Martha Stewart thing. I only knew who Martha Stewart even was because Ellie subscribed to her magazine and I would glance at it sometimes in their apartment. He told me if I wasn't careful I might turn into a real girl. Maybe another girl would have been offended by that, but I thought it was sweet. The sweetest thing he could have said in that situation.

He ate his omelet and I just watched. He was so adorable it was very hard for me to keep my hands to myself. I fed Trixie bacon, which I don't think I should have, people food and all, but she was being so good I wanted to give her a treat too.

I was sad when he finished eating. He helped me wash the dishes again and then went upstairs to get ready for work. He was only on his way to the Buy More, but he was dressed like he had a typical white collar job, in his suit with his briefcase in hand.

Casey had texted overnight that he got a fingerprint off the bug he had found and ran it through the database. It belonged to Sylvia's husband, Cliff, Sylvia being the blonde who was all over Chuck at the barbecue. I was keeping tabs on him, and I wanted to let Casey know he had left in his car. I wrote Casey a note in invisible ink on a fake shopping list. I tossed on my robe and slippers and ran outside to hand it to Chuck. A lot of the neighbors were outside and we both waved. I gave him a fake kiss goodbye, although the smile on my face as he pulled away was completely real.

Casey explained the information he had obtained, about the excessive intranet cable purchased by the same person who planted the bug. Because of the cover, Casey thought sending Chuck on a seduction mission was the best way to gain access to the computer. I originally objected–only because Chuck was not cut out for that at all, as we had seen before with Sasha Banachek, and then Jill. That was my objective opinion, but I was seriously questioning myself at this point. Casey won out, and then I had to convince Chuck that was the only, the best way.

Chuck got upset that I even suggested it. And it was weird–not really upset that we wanted to send him on a seduction mission, but that it would appear that he was fake-cheating on his fake-wife. He couldn't even pretend to be a bad husband and we weren't even together. Sometimes it's like a diabetic coma, how sweet Chuck really is. I'm biased, I know, but still…

We all went back to the house. I was inside and Casey was on the roof pretending to check on our satellite dish. Chuck went to Sylvia's house.

Listening to that was…difficult. For multiple reasons. Firstly, Chuck is just too sincere of a person to pull off a believable seduction act. He came across as goofy, clumsy, awkward. Of course, Sylvia was a Fulcrum agent, so she had an agenda. It was still hard, though, even the thought of her touching him digging under my skin no matter how I told myself he was just doing his job. I would remember this later, when he was forced to listen to something even worse when it came to me.

Anyway, Chuck asked her to get him a drink, so she left him alone. I didn't hear any talking after that, so I guessed that he was looking for the computer while everything was silent. In the meantime, we saw Sylvia's husband arrive at home.

I called Chuck on the com, telling him he needed to get out of there. He didn't answer. Casey let me know to stay put, that he was going in after Chuck. Before Casey could get anywhere, I saw the commotion outside. All of the neighbors were in their yards, and staring. When I followed what they were looking at I almost threw up.

Chuck, in his t-shirt and boxer shorts, barefoot, running along rooftops and garden fences…with open handcuffs on one wrist. I met him at the door, feeling every eye in the neighborhood on us.

I noticed his appearance right away. He was beyond frazzled, trying to tell me something outrageous had happened over there. His eyes looked strange, and I didn't know why.

I had never seen Chuck immediately after he'd downloaded the Intersect, any Intersect or upgrade. I had never seen him before the first upload, then a few days after the upgrade on the chip that Bryce got away from Von Hayes. I saw him about ten minutes after the 2.0 was downloaded, but I was in shock after Bryce was killed and it didn't quite register. But I did see right away what he looked like after he got the 2.0 refresh from his father's laptop after Ellie repaired it, some two years from this moment. The look is the same, was the same, even when he downloaded the version he still has now.

I slapped him across the face, as gently as I could while still making it appear genuine, the ire of a jealous wife who had caught her husband cheating.

I rushed back inside and Chuck followed me.

Once we were inside, I asked him what happened.

He told me he found the computer, just like we had directed him to do. He logged in with a password, Salamander, which was the same nonsense word Casey had said Jim Yeager was now repeating in his brain damaged state.

"Sarah, I…downloaded…something," he said, his voice quaking with fear.

"What? What does that mean?" I asked, not sure what he meant.

"Like…and Intersect, only…not the…Intersect. It ran the same, pictures flashing, over and over, just like…Bryce's email. I blacked out for a moment, just like I did with that email. There's…something else…in my head."

I didn't know that had happened to him before, blacking out. Considering almost every other person who was tested by the government, and apparently also by Fulcrum, either died or had permanent brain damage from it, Chuck blacking out was pretty mild. I don't think I realized until that moment how much stress there was on Chuck's brain with the Intersect, how truly unique and magnificent his brain was to function so perfectly with the Intersect.

There was a reason for that, of course, but it would be another year before I knew the real reason.

His words frightened me, but I tried to be nonchalant, knowing I would only freak him out if I panicked.

"More than one? Or did it…replace the one you have?" I asked.

I was worried first and foremost for him, and what it would mean, if he would be alright. I was also terrified that if Beckman found out he had an enemy agent Intersect in his head, that they would bunker him, or worse. Eliminate him as a precaution…or dissect his brain. The horrifying pictures kept playing over and over in my mind.

"I don't…I don't know, Sarah," he said, his voice so small, so worried. "I feel…different. My brain feels…heavier. I can't explain it any better. I'm sorry."

He was terrified. I pulled myself together, determined to show him calm and strength, not my own fear.

Once we all got back to Castle, Beckman laid into us. I had never been quite so dressed down by General Beckman before, but we deserved it. We had sent Chuck on a mission he wasn't ready for, wasn't remotely prepared for. And it was only by sheer luck that even as we sat there, Chuck wasn't brain damaged mumbling the word Salamander, like Jim Yeager. Deep down, I blamed myself for acting like a lovesick teenager in that house with Chuck, instead of protecting him, which was my primary goal.

Chuck was the one who jumped in to defend Casey and me as Beckman berated us. But once Beckman knew what had happened, that Chuck most likely had Fulcrum programming in his brain, she pulled him from the mission. Beckman thought my cover was still intact, so sent Casey and me back in to get as much information as we could.

I was back in the house, alone, when Casey contacted me, telling me I had unknown subjects approaching the house. I had my gun drawn. Chuck had been trying to call me at the same time, but it went straight to voicemail. I didn't hear that message until everything was all over. But because of the Fulcrum Intersect, Chuck knew that the entire subdivision, and everyone in it, were all a front for Fulcrum. We were completely surrounded.

I know I was off my A game, because one of my so-called neighbors showing up with brownies, meant as neighborly comfort for my broken marriage, was enough to make me put my gun away. I also never heard Sylvia enter the house through the back. I actually turned my back, with my gun exposed, to the woman at the door. Casey had already been tased by this point, and Fulcrum was making their move to take us out.

Once Chuck realized he couldn't get a hold of either me or Casey, he took off from the Buy More and headed straight to the subdivision. I don't know if he just thought he was coming to warn us, but he never shied away from danger, especially when he thought Casey or I could be in trouble. This time was no different.

Though this time, because Chuck had survived the Intersect test, Fulcrum was waiting for him. Brad tased Chuck as well.

Sylvia and her associate blindfolded me. I found myself in an underground lab, a creepy version of our Castle. Lots of room, agents in lab coats. It was a high tech Intersect research facility. I felt helpless, defeated when I realized how badly we had underestimated the entire situation. Just that morning I had been cooking breakfast like a goo-goo eyed lover…while Fulcrum was launching an all out attack on Team Bartowski.

I was dragged into the lab. There were multiple banks of computers surrounding what looked like a torture device. Like a dentist's chair but with arm and leg restraints, as well as multiple restraints to hold the head in place. They handcuffed me to a chair and then basically ignored me for a while.

I knew they had taken Casey. I wasn't sure if he was alive or not, or if he was alive, where he was or what they were planning. I was worried sick about Chuck.

I watched them drag Chuck into that room, unconscious, and clamp him into that chair. My blood was ice water as I sat there helpless, unable to stop them, unable to help Chuck. They monitored him like a lab rat, getting his vitals and other such information.

He woke up calling for me, worried for me, most likely because he had come looking for me before they captured him.

I listened to the Fulcrum agents explain to Chuck what it was they were doing. They were wrong about everything, of course. These agents believed the government had given up on the Intersect, that there wasn't one. Did Bryce plant that intel, spread that disinformation as a way to protect Chuck? I thought it was a possibility, although the truth was, as always, more complicated than that and involved more than just Bryce.

And even in this situation, they had no idea that Chuck had the Intersect. I was too terrified at the time, but the irony hits me now. There they were, trying to build their own Intersect because they had lost access to the one…that was inside the head of the man they were potentially killing.

In a moment of desperation, I almost considered telling them that. That Chuck was the Intersect. But I didn't know where Casey was, even if he was still alive. And if for some strange reason Chuck lived, I almost certainly wouldn't. All of Fulcrum would know that, and no one could protect him.

I stayed silent, cursing myself for failing to protect him, praying that he would forgive me.

Chuck was railing against his head restraints, turning just a small amount. It had to have been painful with those screws against his temples and the strap across his chin. But he saw me out of the corner of his eye.

He told them he would do whatever they wanted, so long as they let me go.

Sylvia mocked him for caring about me. They said I tricked him, pretended to have feelings for him.

Of course they would think that. They were spies, just like I was. We didn't fall in love like normal people. We could never give that much of ourselves away to love someone else.

A black, seething anger rose up from deep inside me at those words. Maybe I was a spy, but my feelings were real. Damn her for making him doubt me or how I felt. Or, damn myself for never giving him a reason to not doubt how I felt.

They clamped his eyes open and then left him alone in the room. They made me watch.

I screamed his name. Sylvia sneered at me and told me he couldn't hear me.

Everyone donned dark glasses; they slid a pair over my eyes as well. I screamed "no"…and then they ran the test, uploading their Intersect into Chuck.

In his life, starting at age nine, Chuck uploaded Intersect data eight separate times. He suffered from headaches and black outs, but only the Fulcrum version caused pain at upload.

I had nightmares for weeks after this incident. Sometimes, 20 years later, I still have nightmares about this. Listening to him screaming, grunting…it was as close as I ever got to watching him being tortured. The most unbearable pain I know of is witnessing someone you love in pain. I think it only ran for about a minute, but it was the longest minute of my life. It seemed interminable, endless. I couldn't breathe. And then…it stopped.

The room was dark. I couldn't see what had happened. They uncuffed me, pulled me to my feet, and dragged me into the lab with them. In the half light, Chuck looked catatonic, unresponsive. I called his name, but he remained oblivious.

I heard Brad declare Chuck "toast."

I didn't care what they would do to me. It didn't matter. Without Chuck…nothing mattered.

They started to unstrap his body from the chair…and he screamed.

He was in a daze, asking what had just happened.

What had just happened?

I wasn't sure. I listened.

Sylvia questioned him. He answered in a stiff, robotic monotone. Like he had been brainwashed. It was ingenious, only possible because Chuck's brain was so special, that he could pretend to be programmed, that he even had the wherewithal to do so. He had me completely fooled…and I was hopelessly terrified.

Chuck stood. They dragged me behind him and pushed me down into the chair, strapping me in. He didn't turn around.

"Before you run the test, I'd like to tell Agent Walker something," he said in that same flat voice.

He finally turned around.

The electrodes were still attached to his forehead. He looked haggard, like he had been awake for days. His eyes were bloodshot. The blank look on his face nearly killed me.

He widened his eyes ever so slightly, but that was all. I looked beyond him, through the glass, hoping against hope that he was still…him.

I saw Casey in the control room.

Chuck took a few steps towards me, then leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. He was just inches from me. I could feel his breath on my face.

"Close your eyes," he whispered.

Casey was going to run the program! Chuck had signaled to him somehow!

I heard the equipment activate and I shut my eyes.

Chuck grabbed my head and pulled me against him, pressing my head against his shoulder, shielding me from the effects of their Intersect.

Every other agent was in that room, unprotected. I could hear them screaming, moaning, dying all around us. Chuck held onto me tightly and wouldn't let go. He covered my ears with his hands to minimize the agonized screams I was forced to hear.

I had never felt so safe in all my life. Safe.

When the lights came back on, Chuck released me.

"Are you ok?" he asked desperately, quickly undoing the straps holding me down.

"Yeah," I breathed. "You?" I asked urgently. I stood.

"I think so," he said.

He smiled, relieved.

I was relieved too, but I was also amazed. I already knew how amazing he was, for all of the myriad reasons I had learned over the years. But to see it, up close, how nonchalantly he handled something that had driven all the others insane…there were no words of admiration strong enough to express how I felt. My hero, in every way that he could be.

I never wanted to tell him that more than at that moment.

But, of course, Casey barged in and ruined it. But it was just as well. Lots of bubbles were burst after this, unfortunately.

While Casey was with the cleaners, I went back to Castle to confer with Beckman. She wasn't overly harsh, but she did give me a strong dose of reality. Fulcrum was close to completing their own Intersect. Chuck had never been in more danger; I had to be razor focused and protect him, not moon over him like a young girl.

As painful as it was to admit, I needed to reset us again. Like I mentioned before, it never reset all the way to the beginning. We were up on a higher level this time, even as I crushed him with this.

Chuck was waiting for me when I left that briefing. He asked me if I wanted to spend time with him in the cul de sac. Ellie still thought we were house sitting. We could watch a movie, whatever.

It sounded like a dream come true.

But it was just a dream, one I was sure could never come true, and it was time to stop torturing myself, and him, with it.

"Chuck, we can't go back there. It was just a cover." I forced myself to sound neutral, unaffected by his tempting idea. I had to ask him for the fake wedding ring back.

He was so…sad…when he left, it almost broke my heart. I told myself it was for the best. That I couldn't effectively protect him if I was distracted by my feelings for him.

I went back to the house with Casey to shut down the operation. The stagers were there, posing as movers again, packing away everything that was in that house. The CIA could reuse the furniture and almost all of the smaller things…appliances, carpets, drapes, all of it.

The only things they couldn't reuse were the pictures of us, the fake pictures. Normally, the CIA would have just destroyed them. I told Casey first that there were some items that I needed to check myself, but I didn't tell him which ones. I told the stagers to set aside the pictures for me, that I would take care of them. I asked Chuck for his fake ring, but I kept mine on until the last possible minute. It hurt to take it off.

Casey never knew until after Chuck and I were married for real, but I kept all of those pictures. Chuck and I had them in frames all over our apartment. Not the wedding ones–we used our own, and not the ones with Trixie. After our first two children, we did get a dog, a yellow Lab named Sophie. The silly ones–us in a golf cart, us in winter hats, we displayed. Sometimes we would get weird questions about why all the fake photos. We just smile and keep it between us, even now.

Proof that dreams can come true, even impossible ones. You just have to have patience.

Lots of patience. And, of course, lots of love.