A/N: I must be crazy, but I was a little under the weather today so what better way to spend a sick day than watching Pink Slip? (Not really. Ugh.) Talk about adding insult to injury. I'm glad that's over. Now you just have to read it. A few things here. I've mentioned the Gilles conundrum as I call it. First of all, Gilles is FRENCH. It's a French name. It is the French version of Giles. The actor's accent is French, although it does not mean he's not a drug dealer. He was small potatoes, however. I gave one possible explanation for that no-sex presumption. Earn the rating, as I say. Lol. We are to assume an entire month passes over the course of this episode, based on Chuck's beard, so I went with that. What did Morgan think?! He said I'll see you at home and...poof, no Chuck. Did he not see thugs hauling Chuck and Sarah out of there? Why didn't Casey ever tell Chuck about Emmett? That talk at the end is bru-tal. But she is in so much pain, she's desperate. That whole "it's not about you" got under her skin, I know it did. She wanted it to be about her! On the (long) list of things Chuck should never have said-that was the worst. Right before will you take a vacation with me. Good thing Chuck is cute, because he can be infuriating! Let's do this. One more episode where she is angry, then, just sad. Not sure what's worse. Here goes.

Gilles Barbier was the mark for the mission Casey had mentioned to me. He was an intermediary criminal, a lower level drug runner who had started in Barbados but moved to California in partnership with some of the drug cartels in Mexico. Much more of a DEA target than the CIA, it would seem, even if he was "small potatoes," as Casey called him.

The kicker was–he had known ties to The Ring, which was why the CIA/NSA were involved. Since Fulcrum had disintegrated after the death of Ted Roark, The Ring was now our concern. A larger and deeper-reaching organization that was global and nefarious in its origins and goals. The Ring had been known to the CIA for over ten years, so they were actually the mother of Fulcrum to begin with.

My mission was to get close to Gilles, so he could be watched. We could monitor any interactions he would have with The Ring.

A seduction mission. My experience in that field was limited–I was the trained assassin, not a femme fatale like Carina. But I went through the Farm. Getting better at my seduction skills had been the argument Sam had given me for offering to separate me from my virginity. My skills in that area were rusty, to put it mildly. Add a broken heart, and…well, it's bad.

While Beckman thought I was the best choice, I don't know. She knew I was in a bad way. I don't know if she thought that might help. I mean, did she do that sort of thing when she was a spy? It seemed so strange, but she had been young once, just like me. It was hard to picture, but anything was possible. I'd long since given up on trying to rationalize the things Beckman did.

This wasn't just any seduction mission. A long-term seduction mission, considering the point was to get close and wait, not get close and find some piece of intel or plant a bug or some other spy-like task. Don't get me wrong, the promise of sex could go far, quite far, but rarely for a long string of time. Staying close to a man like Gilles for an extended period of time almost required sex. It was the unspoken rule–they couldn't ask me to do it, but I couldn't survive the mission without doing it.

In her time with the DEA, Carina talked to me a lot about how much sex she had with her marks. They were all drug runners, but for her, a lot of them were drug lords, leaders of huge cartels. Violent, dangerous, heartless men who killed without blinking, who took what they wanted and gave nothing in return. Words she had said stuck out. The way to guarantee no one rapes you? Always want it, no matter what, no matter who. Detach your mind from your body. The quickest way to avoid full-blown intercourse is a blowjob, almost always, depending on your mark's stamina. Make your mouth tight like a vagina and it's over quick.

I had listened back then, telling myself I would never need to know that. Now, I was sick thinking about it. The CIA had still managed to turn me into a whore, despite everything I had done. A whore, a killer, a desperate and lonely soul, destined to die young…and no escape route existed anymore. It was an existential hopelessness I had never consigned myself to before. For the first time I think I understood why Sam had decided to work for the CIA after his young wife's death. Nothing mattered anymore. I was past the dream, gone far beyond it into a wasteland from which there was no escape. The only hope was that Gilles would contact The Ring as soon as possible.

The seduction mission lasted almost a month, an eternity for such things. (Chuck was cashiered out of the CIA by the time my mission started.) Casey was only there as back up the night I first insinuated myself into Gilles' life, and then once more on what ended up being the last night of the mission. In between, I was on my own.

I was ultimately too damaged to do that mission effectively. I know that now, although at the time I had no idea how bad it was, how careless I was, how in peril my life was. It was only Gilles' perverse ways, his fucked up habits, that saved my life, and maybe saved me from having to allow myself to be raped. As much as I took Carina's words to heart, I wasn't her. Having sex with someone I didn't want to was like rape, even if I was consenting, for the sake of my job, my mission. I can honestly say if Gilles wasn't such an odd man, full of twisted ideas and perverse sources of pleasure, I would have had no choice but to fuck him. Too many nights in his room could not have ended any other way. That is, if plainly fucking me was what he wanted. He was more complicated, more disgusting.

I met him at a party, arranged by the CIA. I came on to him, much as I had to Cole Barker. Only not quite so strong, considering the Barker mission was get in, get the belt, get out. This was only…get in. He had to want to make me his woman. And he did…he said so that first night. "I know beauty when I see it. And when I see it, I want to possess it." We danced and drank and he groped me…and I had to let him.

It was such an odd mix of emotions that night. I was nervous and disgusted. I needed to look interested, even turned on by him. I could pretend well enough, a higher pitch to my voice and a few fluffs of my hair, the dumb blonde act I had perfected. But beneath all of that, rage was simmering. Pain, inverted to anger, goading me on. It helped to wonder what Chuck would think of what I was doing; I even imagined he could see me, that I could somehow get back at him, the more of myself I gave away, the more I would hurt him. I had never been that angry in my life–and it made me feel so strong I was almost invincible. I liked it. It was so much easier than crying.

All of the disgusting details of what happened–Chuck knows now. I told him this part in the hotel in Paris, a prelude to a bout of oral lovemaking that Chuck could tell was making me distressed. He was amazing then; he's still amazing. Chuck doesn't need to hear it all again, blow for blow, but for me, to support me, he will. It's painful for me and it creates such feelings of guilt in him it's almost unbearable for me to say it. But I always matter most to him. In fact, I always did. I just forgot it at this time. It's far in the past now–but it was hell while it was happening. It's hell retelling it.

What ultimately saved me from the brunt of Gilles' sexual advances was a woman named Regina. She was the buffer between the two of us, almost always. I heard rumors about who she was…Gilles' cousin, or even, more horribly, his sister. That's how twisted it was. On top of his general disregard for the law and common human decency, he had very strange fetishes. He liked to watch–mostly watch Regina with other girls. I found out the reason for that–he had almost no stamina and high level anxiety over cleanliness.

I was his arm candy. He had a rotating group of us. I was just the girl of the month. I was for public appearances. Regina stayed hidden in his compound. In one month, while I was seen with him in public almost every day, we were only in his bedroom four times, Saturday nights. And almost all of what occurred happened between Regina and me, while he watched.

I mentioned I've been with four men in my life (that I remember). But to be technically correct, I've also been with two women–Carina and Regina. I don't remember the encounters with Carina, but she told Bryce what happened between us during that wild time. She had no reason to lie, so although I don't remember it, I know she performed oral sex on me. Apparently I enjoyed it, or so she says. That part may be just her ego.

And now this nitty-gritty dissection of the term "having sex." I'm a heterosexual female, so sex for me, all my life, meant cock-in-vagina intercourse. Oral sex counts, although I'd never participated in any of that by this point. Did all those nights of masturbating with a vibrator count as sex? Technically, no. Sex requires two people. But here's where it gets fuzzy. At the end of the day, it's just semantics, I know. Whatever term I use, what happened between Regina and me was X-rated.

She was young, with long dark hair, dark eyes, and deep olive-toned skin. Personality wise, she was almost sweet, demure. If it was an act, she fooled me. One rare night while we were alone in the bedroom, she explained a bit. Gilles couldn't satisfy her, so he let her bring in other girls. She thought of herself as bisexual, but she also explained to me that she thought women were naturally more fluid in their sexuality, much more than most men. Pleasure was pleasure, and knowing how the parts worked personally assured greater pleasure. She had a point.

The first night, I went in there braced for something awful. The fact that it wasn't awful was what ruined me. By the end of this mission, I was nearly destroyed, with no identity, like a non-person, barely human. I felt like an animal in a zoo.

Regina's presence surprised me until Gilles explained what he wanted me to do. He sat in a chair facing the bed, pants undone, stroking himself. He told me to undress and climb onto the bed. I may have been awkward, not used to parading naked in front of anyone. Regina slipped off her robe. She handed me a shot of what I thought was vodka, although it was tainted with something else. Whatever it was, I didn't react the way I had to Carina's drugs in the past. This completely relaxed me, like I had done six shots instead of one.

Three weeks, three nights, they were all the same. She fucked me with a dildo, always after she massaged my clit with her fingers until I was wet. She shoved the dildo in right as my first orgasm started, and proceeded to give me two or three more before Gilles was ready, jumping on the bed next to me and fucking her from behind so hard I heard her whimpering in pain.

At first, I felt dirty, like a whore. But it had been so long, years of me alone with my vibrator. I shivered as I thought how much better it was when it wasn't my own hand. Whether it was Sam pounding me from behind, Regina with a dildo, fuck, a robot for all I cared…it felt good. Too good to keep my own wits about me. After the second night of that, I willingly took the spiked drink, begging her to fuck me harder, faster, utterly unconcerned with the audience or what he was doing. I forgot that the mark was watching and beating off…until he would need to come inside Regina (always Regina, thank God. It could have easily been me and I would have had to just take it.) I lost myself, craving each climax and groaning with pleasure when it washed over me. I hadn't had an orgasm by anything other than my own hand since I was with Bryce in Mexico over two years before. I had forgotten just how good that could feel.

In my despair, I think I convinced myself my gusto was perfecting my cover. What spy would let herself be that vulnerable, that primed for god knew what? When I think about it, I think it's a miracle I wasn't killed and buried in the desert during that mission. I almost compromised myself, losing myself and forgetting my mission, desperate to be fucked, even by another woman. Gilles believed me, never suspected I was an agent, because of how eager I was to participate in his bizarre sex ritual.

The night before Chuck finally decided to call me after a month of being back in California was when I woke up from that hazy, drug-like dream.

After the fourth session of sex with Regina, Gilles changed his mind about what he wanted. He had been stimulating himself as we performed, but then demanded a blowjob from me.

I had never done that in my life, not with anyone. Somehow, it seemed almost worse than just sex. He stood at the foot of the bed, pointing to the spot in front of him where he wanted me to kneel. I struggled to stay neutral, to not let him see the disgust on my face.

Carina's words came to the front of my mind. Tight, like a vagina. I had no choice. I knelt, naked, in front of him, my knees aching on the tile floor, and took his cock in my mouth.

It was awful, disgusting, repulsive, the worst thing I have ever done in my life. I was no good at it, apparently frustrating him. He fucked my mouth more than I did anything myself. He held the back of my head and pushed, gagging me until my eyes watered. Less than two minutes later, he came down my throat, choking me. I sputtered and coughed, his semen dripping down my chin. I grabbed for a tissue to spit. He was horrified at the mess I had made on his floor.

"Your first time?" he snapped . "Regina will teach you. Clean that now." He left for the shower while I fought the urge to vomit, scrubbing his saliva tainted semen from the floor with a tissue.

Where I was, what I was doing, hit me all at once. I wasn't Carina, and I never would be. How many times did I have to tell myself that? It wasn't spite anymore. Inside, I was screaming. Why, Chuck? Why did you leave me? Is this what you wanted?

Carina could do something like this, because she had no idea what it was like to love someone, certainly not love someone and then lose them. Every dream of being intimate with Chuck, truly intimate, not this mindless fucking that was everything else I had ever experienced in my life, battered at me. It hollowed out my chest, burrowed through my stomach.

What was wrong with me?!

I loved him. Nothing would ever make that go away, no amount of sex or orgasms or anything else.

What was I supposed to do now? I didn't know how much longer this weird dynamic would hold before he grabbed me instead of Regina and fucked me as hard as he always seemed to fuck her, causing her pain.

It was only luck, and nothing else, that saved me. Surveillance had picked up a meeting with a Ring courier, planned for the next night. That meant I would accompany him, his arm candy. Casey would get the team in place and we would take them down. It was over, just a few more hours.

I couldn't scrub the disgusting feeling from my skin, no matter how hard I tried. I showered three times that night and scrubbed the inside of my mouth until my cheeks and the roof of my mouth bled.

Gilles told me about dinner at the El Bucho and asked me to take a dip in his pool the next day. His strange sexual habits ensured he wouldn't want to fuck me in the water or by the pool. Instead, I just enjoyed the water. The sky was overcast, but the fall air was still warm.

I dove into the pool, skimming the bottom before I emerged and climbed out. My bikini was white, almost see-through. I wrung my hair out and moved towards him where he sat by the pool, with a bucket of champagne and strawberries.

"Your phone, my dear." He handed it to me, as it was ringing.

Who the hell was calling me?

I was nervous, thinking it had been foolish of me to leave it where he could see it. I took it from him casually.

Chuck.

It took all my strength not to react, after the night of agony I had just endured. Thinking quickly, I picked up a flute of champagne, walked to the edge of the pool, and tossed the phone in, overwhelmed at the sight of his face, the picture still in my phone that a call from him triggered. I took a deep breath and turned back around, still dripping wet.

"That bad?" Gilles snickered.

He had seen the caller and that photo. "My ex. Don't worry about him." I forced a seductive smile.

"Regina is in town shopping tonight," he muttered. "She told me you were like velvet inside. Tonight, I feel for myself."

I kept smiling, though I wished with all my might I would just sink to the bottom of the pool with the phone. My string of luck had run out.

I reminded myself that if everything went according to plan, the mission would be over before I had to be alone in Gilles' bedroom with him. I went home to change and made sure Casey knew all of the plans for the evening.

When I was talking to Casey, I could have sworn I heard Chuck's voice in the background. I chalked it up to that crazy longing I had felt, now hearing his phantom voice in my head. Casey was in Castle, in the final stages of it being prepared to be broken down. The relocation of capital assets had begun once Chuck flunked out. The end of this mission signaled the end of our use of Castle. We would both be reassigned.

I was hoping for someplace far away. My time in California was almost over. The strange comingling of sadness and relief was one of the last things I let myself truly feel before the Ice Queen sealed me inside for the next Ice Age.

What disrupted that perfect icy coating was seeing Chuck again, as I sat and waited for Gilles in the El Bucho, for the first time in over six months.

"Walker, we have a situation." Casey's voice, in my earpiece.

I looked quickly…and then I saw him.

I hate that the best way to describe it is like a scene in a movie, where everything slows down, time seems to stop all around you.

I was not prepared for how seeing him again was going to make me feel. My eyes burned, but almost instantaneously, the anger rose from the depths of my soul. He had left me in Prague, broken-hearted, but now he would see my wrath, how angry I was after what he had done to me.

The fire of rage burned, but underneath it, always, was my love. No matter how angry I was, I couldn't shut that off. He was wearing his Nerd Herd uniform, though he no longer even worked for the Buy More. His hair was a messier version of how it had been at the train station. He looked like he had gained weight, at least in his face and neck.

The sight of him, still, could make my heart skip a beat.

He saw me, his brow furrowed. I don't know what showed on my face. He started moving towards me. I immediately stood up. I needed to do some serious damage control, right away, or the mission was a bust. I was not fucking that asshole.

Again, the distance between us closed in slow motion. I couldn't read the expression on his face. Maybe nervous, or anxious. He had trouble looking me in the eye. Standing that close, though, he smelled like himself again. I fought the wave of dizziness.

"Hello, Chuck. What are you doing here?" I asked cautiously. Could he tell how tight my voice was, how much was restrained inside me?

"Don't worry. This is not about us."

He would keep saying that, over and over. It made me want to scratch his eyes out. I wanted it to be about us! Damn it, I was so tired of nothing being about us. There being no "us."

I know he continued talking, something about back-up and needing to prove himself to Beckman. I saw Gilles over Chuck's shoulder and knew I had run out of time. He would ask who I was talking to, maybe even recognize the photo from my phone.

"Kiss me," I ordered. I needed a way to explain this.

"What? Right now?" he balked. "Don't you think we should talk first? I'm getting mixed signals," he rambled.

"Kiss me now!" I whispered harshly.

He didn't hesitate. He pressed his lips on mine, firmly, soundly. I kissed him back, longer than I should have for the show I was trying to stage. Did a part of me want that, need that? After last night, of course, even if I couldn't admit to myself.

He pulled back and I could see his eyes were on fire. I summoned the anger, deep inside. Did he think it was that easy, just kiss me and everything went away? I slapped him, hard, across the face. He hit the floor like a sack of laundry. I channeled six months' worth of anger and hurt and betrayal into that, so it was more harsh than it needed to be for the show, that he was an old lover trying to win me back.

"Who the hell is that?" Gilles asked as he approached.

I covered my mouth, afraid he would see how breathless I still was after the kiss.

"Uh…just my ex. He's having some trouble letting go." I grabbed Gilles' hand and walked away. I felt a twinge of wickedness on the inside when I hoped Chuck heard me.

We went back to our table. I saw Casey lift Chuck off the floor and drag him into the back room.

"Walker, regroup. Kitchen." Casey in my ear again.

I waited a believable amount of time and excused myself for the ladies' room. He didn't see me slip into the kitchen.

Chuck sat there with an ice pack on his face.

"Why'd you knock him out?" Casey asked.

"It was a slap." My voice was as cold as I knew how to make it. That kiss was for show, and damn it, he was going to know it.

"Mmm. Lemon's got a glass jaw," Casey mocked.

"I was caught off guard on an empty stomach, ok? I didn't eat anything. I can take a punch." Chuck was talking to Casey like I wasn't even there.

"You mean a slap."

Chuck got offended. He stood up, took off the ice pack.

"I'm sorry, ok? I'm sorry, guys. I didn't mean to screw anything up. I just came here to help out." I rolled my eyes. "Things went wrong in Prague, I don't know why, but I know that I can do this. I can be a spy."

Casey shook his head slightly.

Then Chuck looked straight at me. "Sarah, you know I can." I curled my hand into a fist, telling myself if he wanted a real punch, I would give him one. I was ready to explode. "Please."

"Get him out of here," I demanded of Casey, then walked past Chuck on the way out. I went back to my table and started eating my dinner.

I almost lost it when I saw Chuck had returned, this time as a guitar player with the band. Damn it, he was going to blow the whole op! What the hell was wrong with him?

Casey mirrored my thoughts in my earpiece.

I told Casey to give Chuck a second. There had to be a reason why he was doing…that. My faith in Chuck was all but gone, but I still trusted him. He was in reality the only person I had ever truly trusted in my life, even if he was the one who had hurt me the worst with it.

Gilles asked me if that was my ex again. I told Gilles to ignore him, that he was a show off. He asked me if I wanted his men to take care of him. Oh God.

I asked him to dance instead. It was Spanish music, so salsa dancing. Up close and personal. I hated the thought of being that close to Gilles, knowing what he expected later, but suddenly the chance to make Chuck jealous was all I cared about. More than even my mission. I missed an assassin right in our midst.

Gilles asked me what Chuck was doing there. I said he was trying to make me jealous. I made sure he knew where to put his hands. He was a groper, no questions about it.

"Wait. How did he know you were here?" Gilles demanded.

I froze for a second, but quickly laid on the seduction thicker than ever. I pressed myself up against him, shaking my body in time to the music. And then Chuck dived from the stage and tackled me to the ground.

All the agents in the place broke cover, pulling their weapons.

Ruined…ruined…everything I had just done…all that time…for nothing!

I hissed at Chuck, asking him what he was doing. He swore there was an assassin.

I blew up at him.

"You don't work anymore, Chuck! It's over!"

I stormed away.

The next day we were instructed to close down Castle for good and await reassignment. Beckman was apoplectic when she found out about Chuck. She signed off early, clipped in her tone, probably because she was going to shoot his photograph or something. That's how angry she was.

Chuck and Morgan came to the Buy More that evening. I saw them on the monitors.

"I'm gonna miss this." Casey's voice. I thought he was talking about Castle, Burbank. Then I thought again and realized that was not something he would say. I turned around, and he clarified. It was his M-134 minigun that he never got to use. I shut off the monitor when I turned back around.

"Poor bastard." Another surprise.

"Who?" I asked.

"Moron that's still in love with you."

The fact that that was the most heartfelt thing I had ever heard Casey say should have made me stop and think. But the rage, the unspeakable rage, could not be contained.

"I promise you, Casey, he's not in love with me."

"Oh, come on. I don't know what happened between you two. Don't want to. Just saying I've seen men have their fingernails pulled off treated more humanely than you did that kid."

Good. That was my first thought, my gut. Until it ricocheted inside me, tearing me to pieces all the way around.

I was in pain, but, so was he. Damn it, how could I hurt him like that? Like this?

"I was just doing my job." My excuse for everything, my excuse now. Casey told me to put him out of his misery.

The thought wouldn't leave my head. Who could put me out of mine?

I hurried to the Buy More, hoping to catch Chuck before he left. This would be it, definitely it, forever. Did I really want him to think of me the way I'd just treated him?

Morgan left us alone, telling Chuck he would see him back at home. He was sweet to me, though he knew I had broken his best friend's heart, or so he thought.

He walked up to me, questioning, once we were alone.

"I wanted to say a proper goodbye." I held out my hand for him. He held my hand, more than he shook it. The touch of his skin against mine was like tiny electric shocks.

"It's been a pleasure working with you, Agent Walker."

All he did was use my title. But to me, it was a reciprocal slap in the face from the night before. Agent Walker. Like I was nothing! But, that's who I was. Sarah, just Sarah, was the girl who loved him, and she needed to go far back under my skin if I wanted to survive. Agent Walker could protect her.

"You too, Agent Bartowski." I think I smirked, only because I felt my lower jaw tremble slightly. I had never, ever, called him 'Bartowski' before. To me, he was always Chuck. My Chuck. Not my Chuck anymore.

I know he was still talking, but I wasn't listening. Suddenly we were surrounded by armed men, though Chuck had his back to them and couldn't see.

The assassin from the previous night, the one I was sure didn't exist, clubbed Chuck over the back of the head and knocked him out. I was outmanned, and put my hands up. I'm sure they drugged me, because I woke up hours later in a dark cell, with no idea where I was, where Chuck was.

What woke me was muffled voices and the sound of a fight. Chuck. He was here with me, wherever here was. It was daytime, not that that clarified anything.

I called for Chuck through the wall. I asked him to break out and come get me. I tried multiple times, but couldn't pick the lock on my cell door.

He was defeated, sure he couldn't do anything to help our situation.

That left me to pep talk him, to tell him he could do it. He had trained for six months before he was let go. He had the Intersect. He could do it.

He chose then to go back to what Casey and I had said, about him not working.

I told him I was mad, that I was wrong. I told him he was a spy. No one could do what he could do. And that was the truth, no matter what else had happened. He heard the door. I told him to not freak out.

I swear, I could feel him smile when I said that.

I heard the altercation, calling for Chuck. Apparently, he flashed and defeated Javier. I would soon learn that the easiest, most failsafe way to ensure the Intersect fired…was when I was in danger. That's why Chuck flashed in the white room, why he could flash now. Also, why he couldn't flash while he was in Prague.

It should have convinced me that no matter what I thought, Chuck did still love me. No logical arguments were possible inside my brain, swirled with pain and anger. It would take so much time.

Chuck came and got me out of my cell.

Turns out, we were in Mexico.

We were running for our lives. We were first stationed on the roof of a nearby building, where I could shoot. I ran out of bullets, defending our position from men armed with rifles and machine guns. I was getting desperate, when I turned to see Chuck taking off his belt. I asked him what he was doing. He planned on ziplining off the roof.

I told him I trusted him. Because I did.

I grabbed onto him and we slid down the cable to the ground below. Bullets were whizzing by us, but I felt safe. It was the nicest thing I knew, being able to hold him tight like that, even if we were being shot at.

It was successful, however, we were soon surrounded by armed men again once we were on the ground.

Chuck was trying to tell me something, he thought this would be his last chance. I wondered what that could be, but before I thought too long about it, I heard the blades of a helicopter.

Casey! Casey found us!

Turns out, Javier had shot the Buy More manager, a delightful man named Emmett Milbarge, to death outside the store. He was a Buy More thorn in Chuck's side, but an innocent bystander in the spy war that was happening underneath and around the store. I think that was why Casey made up a story about where Emmett went, hence Chuck felt any sort of guilt about the man's death. That man's murder saved our lives, as Casey was able to trace our location.

He finally got to use his new gun. We jumped on the chopper, and we were safe. We were back in L.A. in a few hours.

When we got back to Castle, I discovered that Chuck had recovered the Ring phone from Javier. It was a closed network communication device for their operatives. No one had ever recovered one before.

I mentioned the newest mission to Lisbon that Casey and I were destined to leave on in the morning.

But that mission was not to be. Beckman made the decision to put Operation Bartowski back in the field, all three of us, to fight the Ring.

Happy and sad, angry and relieved…all at the same time. If this was going to be permanent, I had to put an end to my emotional outbursts and control myself. I summoned the inner Queen to her realm.

Casey got Chuck and Morgan their old jobs at the Buy More back, easy because there was no manager. I stayed in Castle once they left, per Beckman's request. She told me she was relying on me to keep Chuck's emotions in check so the Intersect could work. That I needed to protect the world from Chuck, that he could be dangerous.

A part of me couldn't believe that, but, the other part knew he was a wild card, unpredictable, and that was bad news for espionage work.

I went to Echo Park that night, with the express intention of setting the proper tone with the team, based on Beckman's warning.

"Chuck," I called. He was standing with his back to me. "We should talk."

"Absolutely."

"I'll go first. I'll go first."

"Sure," I replied. He always went first, but this time, I was struggling for the right thing to say.

"Sarah, they wanted me to be a spy, ok. They told me that I could make a difference. For years, I've been kicking around not knowing what I wanted to do with my life like a…like a loser. And then one day really important people told me that they thought I could change the world. Me. Chuck Bartowski. It was never about you…"

I felt like I slowly turned to stone as I stood there, listening to that. They wanted you to be a spy? What about what I wanted? Really important people? What was I, nothing? And then he said it again, that it was never about me…

No, it was never about me. It was about what he wanted. Those words burned their way through me. I cut him off, replying with the cold, dead voice of the Ice Queen.

"Stop. I…acted impulsively. And it's a mistake I don't usually make. And it won't happen again."

"But, Sarah…" I don't know what he thought he was going to say, but I couldn't listen to it.

"You're a spy now, Chuck. You have to keep your feelings to yourself."

I stormed off, before he could say anything else.

I know I hurt him, speaking that way. But I had to protect myself. That was the only way I knew how.

And so, the agony of denying one of the most powerful loves the world has ever seen began. One by one, the tiny pinpoints of light that were inside me, created by my hope, my dreams, started to go out. It would get so much darker before it got light again.