A/N: I heard Bon Iver in the car on the way home and I just couldn't wait any more to start this! Part One of Colonel. I'm only 14 minutes into the episode and at more than 4000 words, so this needed breaking up into multiple. This speaks for itself but a few wtf things. They drove all night, but then it's night in the motel, so they spent the day doing...something. Sarah had to have NOT known that Chuck called Ellie because that would just be even more stupid than he was to risk it. Trying to be socially responsible of course with the protection problem, but really? Was that necessary? The poor girl's been waiting for him for 2 years! Lol, anyway. I hate Casey in this episode and though it serves the plot, it is OOC for him at this point. They try to explain it later, but it's weak and too quick a flip flop in one, then 180 degrees in almost no time. My opinion anyway. Enjoy. The next part is mostly written so should be a follow up soon. Enjoy.

The entire walk to my car in the Buy More parking lot was surreal. Every fiber of muscle twitched, as I itched to run as fast I could, hoping Chuck would follow. But I forced myself to remain calm, neutral, walking at a normal gait so as not to attract any undue attention. Neither one of us spoke. I just started the ignition, backed out of the spot, and drove.

We were all the way onto the highway before Chuck said anything. All I could hear was the sound of his ragged breathing. I watched him gripping the hand hold tightly, loosening and tightening his grip in a kind of rhythmic dance fueled by his nerves.

He broke the silence to remind me that I was committing treason by running with him, that I could go to jail for what I was doing.

"I know."

What else could I say? There was no choice, not faced with my feelings. I wanted him to know that, but I didn't know the words to say and I didn't have the capability of speaking them, that he could know for sure.

We drove for a few more hours before he said anything more. I had never seen him this way–so nervous he had moved beyond rambling, to silence. I wished I could have found a way to reassure him that there was an end to this if we could just find the way out. My plan wasn't solid, many pieces still fluid, but my end goal, all my hopes and dreams, and fears, counted on us being able to find Chuck's father. The rest would sort itself out, or so I told myself.

"I knew I should never have trusted General Beckman," Chuck grumbled softly, breaking the silence.

I turned to look at him, surprised by the sharp statement.

"She wants me to stay the Intersect forever, Sarah."

I sighed. "That may be true, but she called the mission off because of Jill."

"Wait…" He sat up straighter. "What do you mean…Jill?"

"She got away from me inside the base while we were looking for you, Chuck. She's a Fulcrum agent and she knows everything."

"I know you don't…have a reason to trust her, none of us do, but…she won't–"

I cut him off, unable to stand one more minute of him defending her. "Even if for some reason she stays loyal to you, they know that she's a liability. They'll never stop until they find her and torture the information out of her. That's why."

Even in the dark interior of the car, I could see Chuck turn several shades paler. "Oh…no. Sarah, I'm…I'm sorry."

I looked at him quickly, then turned my eyes back to the road. "Why? Why are you sorry?"

"Because, Sarah, I let her go." I heard him swallow. "She may have gotten away from you, and maybe she was trying to escape, but she came back to help me. I found out about Protocol 7 because she told me." I could hear his breath rattling as he paused. "She knew there was no deal and she warned me that everyone was lying to me. She held up her side of the bargain. I cut off her ankle monitor and told her to run. I wasn't thinking about everyone else, just her. I'm sorry."

He always thought of her. He could never quite break free of that hold, and that truth continued to eat its way through me.

I had a torrent of words ready to go, to lay into him about trusting her, about putting the both of us in the situation we were in–all of it. But I couldn't.

In the end, what Jill warned him of was the truth. I had lied to him; I had almost betrayed him but for a few words he said that woke me from that stupor.

Did Chuck know I hadn't been sure about what to do when I walked through the doors of the Buy More? Does he know I almost let them take him away?

My cheeks burned with shame in the dark. I didn't know what he thought, and he never spoke of it, not until those endless days and nights on the train when we talked for hours about everything. Only then did I understand–he understood what was happening to me, what I was struggling with. He was only learning piece by piece as it was happening, but he could look back over all the time we struggled when we loved each other but weren't together, and see how I evolved. How I became…well, me. He knew who I was; I was the one who needed introducing to myself. That took time. Fortunately, he was patient.

After a while, Chuck asked about Casey. I had to break the news that Casey was sticking to his guns and following the letter of the law. I suspected Casey would be the one Beckman sent to retrieve us, so we had to be smart and vigilant. We swapped my car for a Camaro halfway between L.A. and Barstow in the middle of the night.

We followed the coordinates from Chuck's flash. Barstow, California is just a small group of buildings huddled together in the middle of the desert, so there wasn't much to see. We ended up at an abandoned Drive-In theater, called the Starbright. The sign was rusted and crumbling, and the huge screen weathered and faded. Brush had overgrown the pavement in jagged lines and the speaker stands, the few that were remaining, were bent and broken.

A dead end. At least it looked that way.

I suggested that Chuck's flash could have been wrong. It was rare, but it had happened.

He wasn't ready to give up, not after everything. He saw fresh cigarette butts and beer cans and thought it was a sign of recent activity. It could have been just some high school kids having a party. It seemed like the perfect spot. He was so defeated, thinking we had to go back to the beginning and start again.

I had to be the bearer of more bad news, that we were AWOL and just going back to the beginning was no longer an option. It was to find Chuck's father or bust.

We got back in the car and decided to do some investigation of the town, ask around, see if anyone had seen or heard anything suspicious, without drawing too much attention to ourselves.

Chuck never told me, that the first place we stopped and I left him alone for five minutes while I went to the restroom, that he called and left a message for his sister.

You know, if he had asked me first, or been using his head at all, Casey might not have ever found us. What might have happened instead? Well, Chuck and I would have either made love for the first time in that motel…or been interrupted by Fulcrum instead of Casey, which would have been disastrous.

I know Chuck was beyond stressed. This was probably the worst situation we had ever found ourselves in. The fact that his sister's wedding was only days away made everything worse. Chuck always thought of others before himself. He called her to let her know he was gone but he would be back in time for the wedding so she wouldn't worry.

I have to attribute that convergent storm of worry and anxiety for mucking up his critical thinking. I mean, Chuck had been spying with us for two years. Why didn't he remember that Casey could find him if he called a known number, like Ellie's? It ended up being a random chance that Casey figured out that Chuck had called Ellie, but Chuck should have known that Casey would be looking for us and of course checking with Chuck's family first.

We had no luck at all that entire day and we were both exhausted from not having slept the night before. We found a motel off the main drag after we stopped at a drugstore to buy some essentials like toothpaste and toothbrushes. Not the Maison23 on its best day. The outside was dingy and worn. Not as bad as an hourly rated place, but not that much better, all things considered. I sent Chuck into the office and I checked the area to make sure there were no signs of us being followed.

Inside the room was dingy as well. It had been cleaned, but it had a lingering odor of mustiness that mixed with the smell of the cleaning chemicals. That smell reminded me so much of being on the run with my dad it overwhelmed me for a moment.

It distracted me from what Chuck was saying, that the room he rented only had one bed. He was upset, asking me if he should have asked for separate rooms. He looked so worn out, so exhausted, I felt so badly for him, for what this was doing to him. I reassured him that as long as we were on the run, I wasn't letting him out of my sight.

I reached into my bag from the drug store and told him I was going to take a shower. I felt gross–hot, sweaty, tired. The thought of the warm water on my muscles was enticing.

As I walked to the bathroom, he said, "I'm going to assume that that whole out of sight thing doesn't really apply right now." His voice had deepened just a bit, because he was teasing me. He had no idea how sexy he sounded like that, and the cuteness of his casual way only made it worse.

I know I had this stupid grin on my face when I turned to close myself in the bathroom.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about him while I was in the shower. We were in new territory, our asset-handler dynamic had shifted slightly, though to what…there was no clear answer. I had to focus, keep my mind on the mission, I told myself, even as I imagined his hands on my body where my own were, running over my skin and my intimate parts. Just in time I stopped myself from indulging in something I would regret, needing to turn the dial all the way to cold before I shut the water off to cool that desire before I saw him again.

I dried my hair and clipped it up. I thought about what I was wearing, just a t- shirt and my panties. I had dressed this way in front of him before, but it felt different this time, as I stepped out into the room. I wanted him to look at me–I wanted to feel the way he looked at me, with his beautiful warm eyes.

He was already in bed, under the covers, sitting up against the headboard and watching television.

He looked at me then, his eyes all over my body where I wished his hands could be. I walked silently to the bed and he reacted with alarm, sitting up, telling me he would sleep on the floor.

It was only part chivalry; the other part was, just like when I slept beside him after Cole was taken by Fulcrum, he didn't trust himself to be that close to me and be able to hold all his emotions inside.

I told him no. No matter what, I wanted him beside me in that bed. To attribute any other motive to that answer would be lying. I wanted to be close to him.

I unclipped my hair and climbed under the covers. The bed was only a full-size, not a queen like his bed in Burbank. Which meant there were six less inches to put between us. I could feel the warmth of his body on my bare legs as they slid down to the foot of the bed.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked in a breathy voice, still sitting up against the headboard.

"Because the floor is gross and I'm not going to make you sleep on it." I turned my eyes towards him.

"No, I mean why are you here…risking everything that you worked so hard for?"

I had a prepared answer for him, and I gave it to him, as I turned to nestle beside him, facing him but not touching him.

"Because, after everything that you've done for this country, you deserve to find your father, to get the Intersect out of your head and to have a chance at a normal life."

It was the truth. That was why I ran with him, plain and simple. So he could find his father and get the Intersect out of his head. But all these extra words were there, unsaid, dancing around inside my head.

Risking everything I worked so hard for…

I know he meant my career, my status with the CIA. At this point, he still thought I had chosen the CIA, and not the other way around. It was true, at least before I met Chuck, that I took pride in what I did. I was the best of the best, even if it was at things that no human being should ever call themselves good at.

But ever since I'd met him, the only thing I had been working hard for was…him. Chuck. My life was upside down and backwards. I was trying to see what it would look like, what it could look like, if I succeeded. If he really got the life that he wanted…and how I would fit into it.

I would have done anything for him–anything. If only I could have told him that…

He looked at me, his tired eyes dreamy, and thanked me. It was sincere, heartfelt, and it warmed me inside.

I told him that wasn't necessary; that it was my job to protect him. Of course, I reverted back to my job, explaining away my true feelings, even if the "job" was partially my own mission, independent of the government. He didn't really know that yet.

"What about when it's not your job? What happens to us then?"

The million dollar question. The one I couldn't answer…because I couldn't see how it would work. How would I fit into his normal, ordinary life…if i wasn't, and never could or would be, normal?

"One mission at a time, Chuck." I reached up and pulled the string on the nightstand lamp, wishing for the dark so he couldn't see my face…how troubled I was by that thought. I nestled down again, my head on the pillow, my body angled towards him. I closed my eyes, but I could feel him watching me, still propped up against the headboard in the dark.

I don't know how long he stayed like that. I was so tired…and so comfortable…that I was asleep in almost no time. A deep, peaceful sleep, like I could never remember sleeping before. The very first time I actually slept, like really slept, next to anyone. I had underestimated the feelings of comfort just sleeping next to him would cause to rouse inside me, which was why, perhaps, I had never slept next to Sam or Bryce.

With them, I had always been protecting myself. Chuck made me feel safe. Strange, when I was the stronger protector, at least physically. But it was never my body I was concerned with. It was my heart. Chuck kept my heart safe…like no one, not even my own father, had ever done.

I'm sure that was why Chuck and I ended up curled against each other in the morning. I slept so soundly, I never woke up, even to shift positions. Or at least if I did, I didn't remember waking up. I just moved, backed up against him, tucked myself against his chest and my legs against his knees.

In the twilight between sleep and wakefulness, I know I remember becoming aware of him, wrapped around me. His arm was a pleasant weight across my waist, his face so close to the back of my neck his breath warmed me. My hand was on top of his, caressing, half in a dream, but aware as well. I was shaken briefly awake as I felt him tug me back against him, closing the distance between our bodies.

He woke me up, intentionally nuzzling his nose against the back of my neck. I gripped the hand I was caressing, threading my fingers into his and I turned to face him.

And then he was everywhere, everything…

His eyes were adorably sleepy but on fire with desire for me. It took my breath away, the intensity of his gaze. All at once I was so aware of his body, his erection through his boxer shorts hard against my bare thigh.

Thiswaswhathewasafraidofallthattime….

Everything ran together…and then disappeared as my mind went completely blank as he kissed me.

Saying he kissed me is like saying a tidal wave is a little bit of water.

HIs lips crashed into mine, his hand touched my face and his other hand slid underneath me as he rolled on top of me. Oh God, every time he kissed me like that, this now the third time, it was the same. Like kissing me was the last thing he was ever going to do on the earth. I kissed him back the same way, with the same intensity, the inhibitions in me from the last two times gone. I reached for his neck, threaded my fingers into his hair. He pulled me up, into his arms, cradling me, and then dropped me back down on the bed.

I spread my legs and he sank between them, his erection like fire against my wet panties. I had never wanted anyone the way I wanted him. I had been dreaming about this happening almost since the day I met him.

His breath was heaving. I could taste his morning breath and I loved it, sure my breath was just as stale but he was ravenously kissing me, not a care in the world. He pulled his mouth away, gasping, breathless from a passion I could see so clearly on his face. And in his eyes…all of his emotion was there, available for me. He loved me. I knew that, had always known that in some way, but feeling it…it was like a drug I had been hopelessly addicted to even in the few moments I'd known it.

So much was said without words at that moment. He wanted me…and I wanted him. He was silently pausing, waiting, a way to ask consent before he continued. He wanted to know that I was sure about being physical with him, about having sex with him. There was no going back from that–everything would be different, a thousand times more complicated.

Armageddon could have been knocking on the door…I wanted him, and I couldn't go back. We were in No Man's Land, somewhere between states of being. But the rain was out of the storm cloud, falling down on us, covering us, and nothing could stop it.

He saw it on my face, my own desire, my need for him…and he smiled like the sun and it lit me inside, every dark corner of me. He pressed himself against me under the covers, the thin layers of our undergarments an agonizing barrier I could no longer stand. He touched my face as he kissed me, but I felt him pull away, sliding himself off of me, out from between my legs.

He stammered breathlessly, jumping up, telling me to wait, to stay put. I flopped back down on the pillow, threading my hands into my tousled hair, aching for him though he had just pulled away. He ran into the bathroom. His pants. Protection.

My mind was reeling, even as the stray thought crossed my mind that at least as far as I was aware, I'd never had sex with a condom before. It was perhaps careless of me, but I'd had my reasons with both Sam and Bryce…neither one had ever cared for me the way Chuck did. Of course he would insist on that, even though I was on company-mandated birth control and I had been since I was 17.

I almost told him he didn't need to worry about it. The last man I'd been with was Bryce, while we were in Mexico in 2007. Chuck had only been with Jill (and as it turned out at this time only Jill for his whole life.) I didn't want to bring all that up, so I let him go.

I turned my head, drowning in the scent of him on his pillow.

He took an inordinately long period of time in the bathroom. He emerged, fully clothed, painfully buttoning his jeans over his very obvious unabating erection.

"What…" I started, sitting up, confused.

"I'm gonna kill Morgan," he grumbled and he fumbled around for his shoes. "I'll be right back. I promise. Motel lobby."

Chuck mumbled his way out the door. He was only out the motel door for about ten seconds when I heard the thud, and Chuck's heavy breath.

Casey. Casey found us.

All my dreams of being with Chuck evaporated and my mind was once again on the mission. I felt the pang of sadness as I pushed that dream away from me, but the spy in me took over again. I got dressed quickly, internally cursing myself all the while for letting my guard down to indulge my feelings, however desperately I had needed to do so.

I ran into the bathroom and turned on the shower, then half climbed out the bathroom window and waited. In no time, Casey came back in with Chuck, holding Chuck at gunpoint. It crossed my mind that Casey might have thought Chuck and I had already slept together, based on the state of the bed. It was a concern, but not my primary one. Casey pushed the bathroom door open, then advanced to the closed shower curtain. I kicked him hard in the face through the window and he went down. I took his gun.

I asked Chuck to help me drag Casey out into the room. We cuffed him to the radiator and then hustled to get out of the room. I needed to put as much space and time between Casey and us as possible. The moment we were in the car, Chuck flashed on the license plate of another car nearby. Fulcrum.

Chuck made a plea, that we needed to go back and get Casey. I reminded Chuck that Casey was going to arrest us. He refused to leave Casey to be tortured or killed, no matter what. Because he was Chuck. I was less forgiving, angry at Casey for his failure to support me when Beckman called for Chuck's detention, angrier that he had taken a mission from her to come and arrest us in the first place. In the end, Chuck was right. I went back for Casey, leaving Chuck in the car.

I crawled back in through the window only to find Casey had pulled the entire radiator out of the wall. He had escaped…and was probably on his way outside to arrest Chuck. I was still inside the room when Vincent barged through the door with his deadly entourage. I was outgunned and cornered. I had to surrender without a fight.

Once we were outside, they were taking me to their car when the Camaro backed up, pedal to the floor, and crashed straight into the gang. One man went over the roof of the car after he was hit; the others scattered. I was momentarily surprised that Chuck was driving, but I saw Casey in the passenger seat.

I started fighting the others, hand to hand, while they were busy shooting at the car. Casey got out, disengaged himself from the radiator, and helped me. I was on the ground, biting the arm and hand of the man that had me pinned while Casey decked more of them with the radiator. Quite a weapon.

Chuck was still in the car. Casey and I each grabbed a loose gun, almost simultaneously. Here I was again, playing chicken with Casey and firearms, like we had so long ago on the roof of that building on Chuck and my first date. After everything that we had been through, I was shocked that we were back here again, like none of that mattered, that it was all just…work, and nothing else. The old me would have thought the same way, but the me I was becoming…hurt over that.

Chuck jumped out of the car, trying to stop us. One of the men rose from the ground. Casey and I both turned to stop him. I shot him first and he fell…but that was my last bullet. I saved Casey's life…and he used it against me, against us.

Talk about feeling betrayed.

Casey cuffed us together, back to back, because he only had one set of handcuffs. He pushed us into the back seat of his Crown Vic. He never said a word. He never even looked at us.

We failed. I didn't know how we were ever going to rescue Chuck's father.

And now…I had no idea what to do next. A new, uncomfortable predicament.