Snapshot

By Steampunk . Chuckster

Summary: Photojournalist Sarah Walker has spent her short and acclaimed career walking the tightrope of societal norms and an inherent yearning for adventure. When her duty to making appearances for her career puts her in Bartowski Electrics CEO Chuck Bartowski's path, their very different worlds collide. Will she discover there is more adventure to him than meets the eye? Charah AU based on Hitchcock's Rear Window.

A/N: Sorry about the long absence. A lot has changed in the last 2 months, I have longer hours at work and discovered new types of entertainment that are binge-worthy and I've also been super politically active the last few months as well, so this slipped down in the priority pyramid. I'm still here, though. Still writing. And now posting. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own CHUCK and I'm making exactly $0 from this story. Per usual.

It took Sarah Walker some time to collect herself enough to climb up from the table, set her napkin on top of it, and make her way towards the doors of Clifton's Pacific Seas.

She simply wasn't used to fearing for someone else, always being the one in tricky situations, dangerous atmospheres. Mike had tried to explain more than once how it felt for him to let the woman he loved go off for weeks on end to the other side of the world when he didn't know if she'd return or if she'd be "trampled by an elephant"; those had been his words. And he'd been sincerely angry at her when she'd giggled at him for it. She hadn't gotten it then. He never went anywhere dangerous, he never did anything dangerous… he was just here waiting when she got back. Until he wasn't. When he'd had enough of that relationship and had wanted something else, something more. Something he'd found now. With someone else.

And here she was, reading an article about the man she'd been seeing lately, the man she was entangled with romantically, seeing his name printed there, knowing the dangerous criminals also in the article had to have realized he was cooperating with the feds, and that they were currently free to go where they wished, do what they wished. And God, she was so damn worried, and she was so damn lost, unable to figure out how to handle the rush of emotions.

So she'd insulted him.

Like a God damn fool.

He'd put her in her place for it then. And she'd deserved it.

Thing was, she'd respected the hell out of the guy before, and now she found she admired him more than she could stand. He hadn't gotten upset, climbed up to his feet, and stormed out. He hadn't argued with her, raised his voice, or insulted her back.

Instead, the quiet calm and harsh but fair words had felt like an anvil slamming into her chest. And she was struck with the reality that she didn't know him, and he didn't know her. They didn't know each other because they were so different, came from two completely opposite places, lived in worlds that were so far from each other it was a wonder they'd crossed paths in the first place.

It probably didn't matter now. He'd left, and she'd likely hurt him enough that he wouldn't answer her calls, wouldn't open the door if she showed up at his condo. She'd ruined this.

What was really ridiculous was that she somehow wanted him even more now. She wanted him. And she wanted to know more about him. He'd hinted at things, and she'd heard the catch in his throat when he did. She wanted to know where he'd come from, what his life was like before, how he got here.

Whatever that strange haunted look in his beautiful brown eyes was, she wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold on for dear life as he let the words tumble out of his mouth, telling her everything.

It wasn't fair. She wasn't going to tell him everything in return, was she?

No. Of course not.

She pushed through the doors and tugged her coat tighter around her body, the cold gracing her skin not doing enough to will away the stinging sensation that mixed strangely with its opposite: that pervading numbness.

She'd try to contact him to apologize for assuming, for insulting him, for saying such things, and if he decided to ignore her calls, that'd likely be that.

Before she could get to the curb to hail a cab, before she could go anywhere at all, she felt warm fingers slide around her hand, holding her back, and then she heard a familiar voice, like damn silk: "Sarah…"

Sarah spun to face him, letting him pull her a bit into the nearby alley, out of the way of passersby.

She just gaped up at him, pressed close, his hand still clasped around hers, holding it up at their midsections.

He was still here. He'd waited for her to come out and she felt foolish again, and yet…relieved. Very relieved.

"I'm sorry I said those things about you. You didn't deserve any of it and you're right, I-I don't know you. I'm sorry," she let out in a rush, shaking her head. She blinked then, confused. "You waited out here for me?" He nodded. "I thought you had to get back to work."

"I lied," he admitted, looking embarrassed as he shifted his weight uncomfortably. He cleared his throat, looking down at her hand that he held between them. "I'm done with work for the day. I just needed an excuse to leave, remove myself from you because I felt a little, erm…" She'd hurt him. She knew she had. And she hated herself for it. "And then I came out here and I couldn't—I couldn't just go to my car and leave. That felt cowardly. And going back inside to talk to you felt…desperate and stupid all at once, so I…just stayed here and waited for you to come out. Which is also stupid." He shrugged with a wince. "I'm not proud of myself. And more than that, I'm so sorry. I apologize for talking to you like that. I have no excuse for my behavior, and I'm not trying to excuse it. All I can say is that I'll try to be better."

"Chuck…" She tilted her head, melting into him, lips a bit pouted. She couldn't help it; he was so inherently special, and it seemed as though he genuinely didn't know it. Sarah cupped the young man's face and looked right into his eyes. "I'll try not to be such a germ. And I won't make assumptions about you like I did in there, either." She winced. "I'll try not to."

"I understand," he said with a one shoulder shrug. "Money does do all of those things you said. It can warp you. It's probably done it to me in some ways. I shouldn't have been so glib about all of this. You don't know this but, erm…I've got this defense mechanism. My sister's sussed it out and she'd be very disappointed in me right now."

"Defense mechanism? Defense against me?" She gave him a shy look.

"No." He shook his head. "Not you." He shifted his weight, looking uncomfortable. "I'm scared." She barely heard him the first time, but the second time she definitely did. "I'm scared. I've never been in a situation like this. Spent my whole life in Los Angeles, only left the country for the first time recently for the company. I'm-I'm not a traveler, I'm not an adventurer. I don't find myself in harrowing situations often—well, ever. And I'm frightened."

Sarah watched him closely as he stuck his hands in his pockets, obviously embarrassed.

And she found she was almost shocked by his candidness. That's what all of that was? He was trying to hide his fear from her? It was silly, lacking in maturity, and she found she couldn't fault him for it. Especially not after her unfair diatribe, painting him with the same brush she would've painted someone like oil magnate Cole Barker with. Maybe this technology CEO she was spending time with had faults, and maybe he was right that striking gold with his company had warped him in some ways. But he was human. Wonderfully human. And she could see him trying, see him working, see him listening and learning. More than anything, his sincerity was arresting.

She was swept up by it.

By him.

"So frightened you showed up here to wait for me to maybe make an appearance?" she asked quietly.

"That wasn't bluster. I came in the hopes I'd see you today. Even though I only saw you a few days ago. And I'm seeing you again on Saturday. …Is that all right?" The small smile on his face, the warmth in him… She couldn't help but reach up to catch the rim of his hat between her fingers and pull down just slightly.

He made a face. "Hey now…"

Then he looked to and fro as she giggled lightly, his hand slipping around her hip. He squeezed, sobering up a little, meeting her gaze from under the tilt of his hat. "I'm sorry for playacting in there, and for sort'a…well…dressing you down."

"You put me in my place and for once I think I…might've deserved it. I was insulting. I'm sorry." She slipped her fingers to his tie. "Will you forgive me?"

"Yes," he said immediately, nodding almost eagerly. "On one condition."

"Oh, boy. Us and our conditions." That made him chuckle and her heart pitter-pattered away in her chest at the sound of it. "What is it?"

"Come with me to my car?" He leaned in close, his lips by her ear. "You have a knife on you, I assume?"

This man and her knives. He was dysfunctional. He truly was. She loved it.

"I do," she said slowly.

When he pulled back he bit his lip. "Walk me to my car?"

She felt like it would be much too serious to say she wouldn't let anything happen to him. But the fact was, she had no intention of letting anyone harm even a hair on his head. Instead of saying anything, she nodded.

Sarah felt an insatiable lift of her spirits at the relief in his handsome face. The fact that he was letting her see it. Was she actually making him feel safer? Or was he just being cute, stretching out their time together?

As she followed him down the sidewalk, she felt the backs of his fingers brush against hers. It was purposeful, and it was sweet. She'd misstepped, insulted him, berated him when he didn't deserve it. Still, he hadn't left. He'd waited outside, given them both some space, and when she came out of the cafeteria, he'd given them both the chance to try again.

He was magnificent.

And she turned her hand just so, slipping her fingers through his, intertwining them, holding his hand and squeezing.

Chuck looked at her and smiled as they walked, and she smiled back.

He stooped a bit to get his mouth close to her ear, lowering his voice. "So where do you keep the knives?"

She laughed, nudging him with her shoulder.

"You're really not going to tell me, are you?" he chuckled.

Sarah raised her eyebrow at him as they sidled up next to his car at the end of the block. "Isn't it more fun if you find out for yourself rather than me telling you?"

Chuck pulled his lips back between his teeth, making an adorable strangled sound and using a finger to push his hat back on his curls so that they poked out a bit around the rim at his forehead. He looked so young like this, like a boy pretending to be a man. And she felt a deep urge to push off from where she leaned against his car, wrap her arms around him, and hold on for dear life.

She'd been with him for close to a half hour now and she still hadn't felt his arms around her, she hadn't had her arms around him. And she wanted it. Even as they stood out on the street with people bustling past on the sidewalk, driving by on the street.

And the tension was between them as she looked into his brown eyes, shaded by his hat. She could feel the tension, palpable, and one of them had to speak up, say goodbye, see you Saturday. He'd climb into his car and drive away. She wouldn't see him again for three days.

But then the young CEO swept his hat off of his head and pushed his hand through his hair, and she leaned her hip into his car, watching him huff out a breath and play with the rim of his hat, before slapping it back onto his curls again. Then he pointed at his car. "That's an expensive paint job you're leaning against, ya know."

Even if she knew inherently he was teasing her, she pushed off from his car with her eyebrows raised.

"No, I'm-I'm pulling your leg, that's all," he rushed out with a giggle, taking her by her hips and turning her to lean her backside against his car. She took him by his forearms and tugged his front against hers, giggling back at him, essentially pinned there. By design.

And this time as she looked up into his face, his hat almost seemed to act like a veil, closing them off from the world, together, just the two of them. And for a moment she thought she'd give anything to actually be alone with him. She wouldn't be the one to make the move, though.

She'd already invited him to find her knives on her person.

She wasn't sure what else he needed.

"I don't want to get into my car and drive away from here without you, even if I am going to see you again in a few days. I don't want to drive away from you. Can I say that? Is that too much?"

Well.

Apparently Chuck didn't need anything else. She'd done enough.

"It isn't too much," she said immediately, shaking her head.

"Good," he breathed. "How do you feel about getting into the car with me?"

Sarah blinked. There it was.

Did she play a game? Act coy? Flirt? Tease?

"May I?"

None of the above. She wasn't ready for this time together to end today. She wanted more time with him. She didn't want to tip toe. So she was clear with him.

"Please."

And he was clear with her, the pleading in his face, the need there.

A mere ten minutes earlier, she was so sure she'd killed this fledgling romance of theirs with a few choice, harsh words, an immature and judgmental stream of sentences spat at him from a place of real worry. Her own inability to properly relay that worry, to communicate like a damned human being.

Now she was slipping her hands over his where they rested on her waist and nodding up at him with a clear, "Don't mind if I do", allowing him to gently shift her out of the way so that he could unlock the car and open the door for her to get in.

She took his hand and slid into the passenger seat, shifting out of the way so that he could shut her door, and she watched him hurrying around to the driver's side. And she wondered as he turned on the car and pulled away from the curb, how in the hell they went from a disagreement to this.

Was this one of those "don't look a gift horse in the mouth" moments? Or would she get herself in even worse trouble, missing oncoming danger, if she looked away, ignored the red flags, and took what she wanted?

}o{

He didn't know what she was doing to his hair, but her finger repeatedly combed across his curls, first in one direction, from the middle of his scalp, and then in the other direction. She'd switch to the other side, then back again, all the while humming something he didn't recognize, her voice soft and melodic, calming, comforting…sweet.

The warmth of her chest pressed tightly to his back as he leaned his weight onto her, her own back lounging against the pillows piled behind her, propped up against the headboard of his bed.

Her other hand landed on his chest, and she oh so slowly dragged it down to his abdomen. He tensed, biting his lip, wanting her to go lower, but she didn't, slowly running her fingers back up again, dipping in and out of the grooves of his muscles.

Chuck heard a siren wailing somewhere in the streets below—a reminder he was a human being, on Earth, in Los Angeles, California. Because Sarah Walker the photojournalist had a way of pulling him out of reality and thrusting him into an ethereal space, an otherworldly space, that made him feel unstoppable, invincible.

Her lips pressed against his temple and he smiled softly, and then her lips were at his ear. "Now that's the last time I let a man coax me into his shiny, expensive car."

He chuckled quietly, picking up her hand and bringing it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her palm. He felt her shiver a little against his back and he smiled into her skin, pressing another kiss there before lowering her hand back to his chest, threading their fingers.

"What if I throw in a scotch and soda?" Chuck gestured towards the full bar in the corner of his room against the wall beside the door that led into the rest of his condo.

"Wait, is that really a bar? A full bar?" she asked.

"Mhm. Want a drink?"

She was silent for a few long seconds, and finally: "I'd say yes, only I'm very comfortable with you like this against me. I'll be cold if you leave and it's not worth it."

"Damn it, you're right."

"I've never met anyone in my life who has a full bar in their bedroom. You really are very rich, aren't you?"

He nodded. "I'm… Erm, I do have a lot of money."

"Hmm," she hummed, stroking his chest with the very tips of her fingernails. His eyelids fluttered at how good it felt, his body still aching for hers. "It's hard to imagine you weren't…" She stopped.

"What?" He shifted up her chest a bit, craning his neck to look at her.

"Nothing." Sarah shook her head.

"Tell me. It's okay. I'm not gonna go anywhere. I don't know where my undershorts are."

She giggled, rolling her eyes. "You have a lot of money, a successful business, a business everyone knows about—your color televisions are everywhere. I guess I'm having a hard time imagining you weren't on the radar of criminals before." This time he shivered. "Sorry," she said immediately, probably having felt it, they were pressed so tightly against one another, her arms and legs wrapped around him. "I shouldn't bring that up. Rather ghastly of me, isn't it?"

"No, no," he breathed. "Don't apologize. You're right. I s'pose I never thought about that, but it's a wonder I wasn't targeted before these bastards meant to try it. Or…maybe I was and just didn't know it because they never went through with it either." He shivered again. "Now that is a ghastly thought."

"It is." Sarah paused.

"I think my secret is that while my television sets are enjoyed by households all over the country and some abroad, very few people know the name Charles Bartowski, the man…and they don't know who or where I am, what I look like. I guess I've gotten by that way."

"That…security company you hired. How did you find them? I mean, how'd you know they were trustworthy and not on the inside of the robbery plot?"

"I've worked with Casey before."

He felt her stiffen. "You…worked with them? Before?"

Oh. Woops.

"Ahem. Yes, well…see…"

"Why didn't you just call the police?"

"I don't trust 'em," he said easily. "That's why. Anyway," he rushed on before she could ask why, "imagine the way I'd get laughed at if I told them some anonymous guardian angel left a note on my desk warning me about the plot of some criminal organization to rob my flagship store. I know I can trust that I give Casey & Associates a paycheck and they do what I pay them to do."

He felt Sarah pull in a long breath and let it out slowly, fanning his curls on his head pleasantly. "Well. I suppose that's one way to go through life."

Chuck wasn't sure what she meant by that, but he didn't want a repeat of what happened in Clifton's Pacific Seas. "There was a gent who got nasty about some business we were going to do together, a joint project so to speak. I pulled out when I found out he was in bed with some nefarious fraudsters and he didn't much like me walking away. Threatened me an' all that nonsense, so I needed someone to watch my back for a bit and I didn't trust LAPD to give a lick whether I live or die so I did my research and found Mr. John Casey. He and his team kept me safe, so when danger came knocking again, I called him up for another consultation. He took the job and the rest is history."

"So you have run into trouble before."

He snorted. "You make it sound like it's such a big ol' thing, and it really isn't." He smiled a little and shrugged, ducking his head. "Like I'm leading this wild life with fascinating, dangerous things happening." He lifted his hands and wiggled his fingers. "It's just not so. That isn't my life. Not a bit."

Sarah stared at him for a long time, watching him closely, and he couldn't read the look on her face. Like she was studying him…hard. He had no idea what she was picking up from her studying. "You're very…vehement. I mean, the way you're so intent on downplaying potential threats. You were actively threatened that first time. And now, you have a violent man and his gang in some very deep trouble, possibly because of information you gave to the FBI, and they're loose in Los Angeles, knowing you talked to the FBI." She frowned deeply. "We don't know they aren't in possession of your home address, Chuck. This address."

He felt himself go pale, a terrified numbness going through him. "W-Well… I'm… And hey, I'm not downplaying the threats." She made a face. "Sure, I-I tried to…hide my fear over it from you back at the cafeteria. I won't lie about that now; it was…"

"What?" she prompted, sliding her hand over his where it rested on his abdomen. "What was it?" She threaded their fingers together.

"Nothing," Chuck breathed, shaking his head dismissively. "I'm a fool."

"You aren't. Tell me."

"I will not. I'm trying to keep you around, don't you know…"

He felt her squeeze him closer to her, her arm around his chest.

}o{

She furrowed her brow thoughtfully, hugging Chuck tighter to her. "You're trying to keep me around…"

Sarah knew that Chuck was talking about why he didn't want to answer, that if he answered it might run her off, but she wondered if it was even deeper than that, and perhaps that was why he was keeping it under his proverbial hat.

Deciding to probe a bit deeper, she gently nudged him with her chest against his back. "Hold on… You were hiding from me how afraid you are, with these criminals potentially gunnin' for you. Was that to keep me around? Because you somehow thought I'd be uninterested in dating a fella who's scared in this kind of situation?"

He was silent for too long.

"Chuck…" she prompted in a low voice. She craned her neck a bit so that she could see his eyes better even as he still sat propped against her, his back to her breasts.

"Okay, okay. Look, I'm… I don't want to say this out loud, because I know that as soon as I do, I'm going to feel very mortified."

"Why? What is it?"

What was he holding inside? Was it about her? The criminals? John Casey?

"It's you, Sarah Walker. You're incredible." She raised her eyebrows, sitting back against the pillows, not sure where he was going with this. "What's more, I've…seen those travelogue videos they show before the picture at the theater. I've seen those fellas who don't wear anything on their feet and they walk across beds of hot coals. Without flinching. When you're out there, taking your photos, working on assignments, that's the kind of man you're meeting out there. Guys who go to war, fight harrowing battles. Guys with scars from…wrestling a lion. Olympic champions, you know? Big time athletes with muscles the size of-of my head practically. Those are the men you're meeting, and then here I am. This-This…well, as the gents on our college rowing team called me, a string bean. I'm not an adventurer. I'm not adventurous. I order the same sandwich from the shop around the corner from my downtown B.E. headquarters building, for God's sake." She gaped at him as he kept talking and she slowly sat up, letting him sit up in front of her, their torsos coming apart as he leaned forward, shaking his head.

"They're out there foraging in the forest for their food because they're on some…jungle safari. And here I am in my cushy condo, my cushy job, my cushy life. Almost no existence of an actual threat, or even the threat of a threat. And the thing is, I am scared. I'm scared outta my mind that they're gonna walk into this place while I'm here and put me on ice, Sarah." She could only continue to gape, her mind going numb, as he continued. "And the people you meet out there, you even, it's a load of folks who'd…never be scared in this situation. It's weak. I feel…weak."

As he groaned, burying his face in his hands in utter mortification, Sarah found she wasn't even sure she knew how to take this. Before she even had time to fully process, her mouth forged ahead.

"What happened to you boys that made you so completely repressed—repressed enough that you come up with things like this?" She shook her head with a light scoff, frowning. "Not wanting me to see you're frightened when your life is potentially in danger because…you think I meet people who are braver than you are while I'm on assignments?" He nodded shamefully, peeking over his shoulder at her. "My goodness, that is such a…" She decided to try a different track. "Well, sometimes you boys seem like such lost little children." He sent her a chagrined look and she winced, hearing how that sounded. She put her hand on his back in apology. "I heard how condescending that sounded… I'm sorry."

Men were so dumb, she could barely stand it. Even this seemingly exceptional one. He really was ashamed of his fear because he thought she'd met fearless people in her travels?

Chuck's Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped, pushing his hands through his curls.

"Chuck, who on Earth doesn't feel fear?" He didn't seem to know how to respond. "You think I wasn't terrified being on that plane bouncing through the sky in the Pacific, outnumbered by a bunch of men who looked at me like they wanted to eat me? If they'd tried anything, I likely would've died fighting them off because there was no way they were putting their hands on me," she said with a huff, clutching the sheets to her chest.

He shifted to face her better, the sheets pooling in his lap, she couldn't help noticing. "Of course you were afraid…That's-That's awful. Terrifying. But I don't mean no one feels fear, just that their fear is for things that are…"

"That are what?"

"Significant?" He shrugged. "I'm hearing myself now. I feel rather silly."

She giggled, shaking her head at him. He was ridiculous, wasn't he? Who had hurt him? Who had made a man with this much importance, this much power and money, have such a complete and utter lack of self-confidence?

"Chuck, few things are more significant than having your safety, your life, threatened."

"Potentially," he muttered. "They might not even care about me. Maybe they didn't even see the article."

"Their criminal organization is down the pipes, Chuck, of course they read the article. You think they don't want to know who helped the FBI flush?" She reached over to smooth his curls back from his forehead, loving the way he smiled a little, his eyelids fluttering like he was in ecstasy with such a simple but intimate gesture.

She could get addicted to this man, in spite of him being so ridiculous. Maybe even because of it? God, she was a mess.

"I don't date men based on where they are on the Dangerous Existence scale." He winced slightly, but almost looked amused at the same time. "And what kind'a nut do you think I am? You think I'd ever jump into bed with someone who wrestles lions?"

Chuck snorted, pointing at her with a dubious look on his face. "Now don't give me that. Even as a man, if Tarzan looked at me a certain way, I don't know that I'd be able to say no."

She was shocked out of her mind as she gaped at him. And then she burst into laughter. He grinned, blushing a little, and the adorable pleased look on his face, the way he made it so crystal clear to her that he liked making her laugh. But the insinuation he'd just made, the way he did it without even a modicum of shame or prejudice. Not even a bit of discrimination.

Sarah Walker wasn't sure she'd ever been this attracted to another person.

He really didn't see it, either. He couldn't even begin to understand how utterly magnificent he was, and it somehow made him more magnificent.

"My point is," she said very pointedly once she'd sobered up a little. "You aren't competing with anyone, Chuck." She gestured around the room. "Do you see anyone else here? Am I in someone else's home, in someone else's bed? Or am I in yours?"

She saw Chuck's jaw clench a little. "You're in my bed."

"I am," she said slowly. "Anyway, you don't think it was brave to speak with the authorities in spite of the fact that it might put a spotlight on you? That it might put you in the crosshairs of these bad guys, or bad guys like them who didn't have their hovel raided by the feds?"

He swallowed loudly. "Sure, I suppose so. But I have an ability to protect myself…or, well…I have the money to hire people to protect me. The…danger levels aren't as high as all that. I shouldn't get credit."

"I think you should. But I don't want you thinking bravery, courage, or…whatever else has you all twisted up right now is gonna make or break whether or not I want to see you." Something settled in her mind then as he nodded, embarrassment in his face. She decided to allow herself to say that something out loud. "But we do come from very different worlds, you and I. That hasn't changed. We're both still locked up on our own paths. In our very divergent existences."

"I know," he said quietly. "I suppose maybe that was part of it. The adventure and excitement. Versus…me and my electric corporation. Stationary."

"I've got my cameras, my tiny little apartment, a car, and…an unpredictable, unsteady work flow, assignments that may or may not come. That's it, Chuck. I looked around this place for the first time and was gobsmacked merely by the fact that you have a full bar in your bedroom. You have these beautiful, sleek cars, expensive cars. And this place you live in, it-it's beautiful and so…big. Your lifestyle is so foreign to me. More foreign even than when I find myself on the other side of the world, in a completely new culture."

His shoulders slumped a bit but she needed to make it as clear as she could, not just for him, but for her too.

"There have been times when the art show money can only get my rent paid, just barely, and I struggle to make car payments, I struggle to put food on my own table. I've had really scary periods of not finding work, and my talents with a camera are barely enough to get by."

Concern lit his features. "I can help. I can bridge those periods of time when things get hard, when jobs dry up. Whatever you need, however you need help—"

She cut him off quickly, trying not to be offended, knowing he cared, that he wasn't trying to insult her. "No, Chuck." He shut his mouth so suddenly, his teeth clicked audibly. "Absolutely not. I won't have you paying my way. I don't need a man for that, I don't need anyone for that."

"I'm sorry," he rushed. "I didn't mean to be insulting, but that-that was insulting and I'm sorry, Sarah."

Taking his hand, she shook her head, leaning in close so that he was forced to meet her gaze. "Please don't apologize. You haven't insulted me. I'm not offended. Don't apologize for wanting to take care of me. I'm just trying to explain to you how it is, how I feel. And maybe I'm not doing a great job of it, I rarely do. And that's probably why all of my relationships have ended up crashed on an iceberg like we're on the Titanic." She rolled her eyes at herself. "I don't know if I'm making any of this clear…"

"I understand," he said vehemently. She turned her eyes to look into his, and she tightened her fingers around his. The sincerity in him as he breathed, "I'm listening."

She felt a certain fluttering in her chest at that. "That's a whole thing with you, Chuck Bartowski. Listening to me when I talk to you."

Chuck turned and crawled up against her, sneaking between the sheets and her chest, their bodies pressed close as she felt herself sink down against the comfortable warmth of the pillows. He had this way of looking into her soul that made her feel weightless.

"It's the least you deserve."

He meant it.

She felt how much he meant it. She saw it in his eyes, in the way his jaw tightened, lips pressed together.

Sarah knew they hadn't actually settled the conversation, they were different, their worlds were different. But he looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered, and even if she knew she wasn't the only thing in the world that mattered, even within his own life, the fact that he oversaw a company with thousands of employees that depended on him…having him look at her like this…

She lunged at him, grabbing at him, practically clawing at him, turning them over to pin him to the bed, kissing him slowly, with a very purposeful passion—fire even.

They made that time their own, diving headfirst into one another, ignoring the unfinished discussion, the tension lying within it.

}o{

M'what time is it?" she mumbled against his cheek, hearing the almost embarrassing way she was panting.

"I dunno," he whispered into her ear, kissing a heated pattern down her jaw, capturing her lips in yet another hungry kiss.

She wanted more too, so much more, an endless amount, in spite of how spirited the last…however long that was…had been. And still, instead of pulling him in and continuing things, she gasped out, "This was just supposed to be lunch."

The way his chuckle dripped with satisfaction and lust, both. Oh God, she loved it. She turned her face and grinned into his hair. "It was, wasn't it?" he asked, almost a bit cockily. He had every damn reason to be cocky, she decided.

Giggling, she snuck her hand between them and flattened it over his face, gently stopping him from continuing his glorious ministrations, even using it to push his face back a bit. At a safe distance. She felt his teeth against her palm, knowing he was grinning under her hand, and he chuckled, his chest bouncing against hers. "What. Time. Is. It?" she asked again pointedly.

He gave an adorable shake of his head to loosen his face from her grip, still grinning as he caught her wrist in his grip and kissed her palm. "Fine."

Lifting his wrist, he frowned in confusion at it.

"Looking for your watch?"

"Yes."

"It kept getting caught in my hair so you took it off."

"Oh. Makes sense. Where'd I put it?"

She giggled again at how cute he was, then turned to look at his nightstand, pointing lazily at the spot where his watch sat, the face of it almost gaping at them. The salacious hour and a half they'd spent here in this bed, she realized as she looked at the time.

"Thanks." He smacked his hand down on the watch and pulled it close to look. "Oh boy. It's ten after three."

But she was too focused on the camera sitting there behind the watch. He'd lifted the strap over his head so that she could undress him the second they got into the bedroom. They hadn't stopped for a drink. They swept into his condo and went straight for the room with the bed. He hadn't even asked if she wanted anything, because she made it very clear she only wanted one thing.

And there it was, that camera. She had a million questions about the camera.

As Chuck put his watch back out of the way, Sarah strained her arm a bit, reaching for the camera. She caught the leather strap and tugged it off of the nightstand, letting the camera dangle near their faces. He merely eyed it in surprise, an eyebrow raised.

"What's this camera about?" she asked him as his brown eyes slipped back to meet her gaze.

"Oh. That." Chuck blinked. He almost looked perplexed…and she just barely bit back a laugh at his reaction.

"Yes. This. You had it around your neck."

He cleared his throat. "I, um, I bought it."

She raised her eyebrow. "Is this a recent purchase?"

"Yes."

"Why?" She had at least a bit of an inkling, considering this was apparently a "recent" purchase.

He narrowed his eyes. "Well…you."

Her inkling was correct.

"Me…"

Chuck picked the camera from her hand and moved so that he was lying on his side next to her, hovering over her, propped up on his elbow. "Yes, you. It had been some days since I saw you last and I suppose I was…rather…erm, missing you. I missed you. I-I do miss you on the days when I can't see you." Oh, boy…

"And so I thought maybe I'd go buy myself a camera," he explained, shrugging and lifting the camera to show it to her. "Part of the reason being that, um, well…it's twofold. See, you're so bewitched by it, photography I mean. It's deep in your blood. And I wanted to know what it is about this stuff that makes you love it so. And in turn, I thought maybe if I gave it a shot, I'd feel somehow closer to you while you're not around."

Sarah could only gape at him, the way he pushed his camera back into her grip, looking almost sheepish now that he'd said all of that out loud. He seemed unsure, pushing his hand through his hair.

"Did…I say too much? Did I cross a line?"

She could only shake her head shyly, nibbling on her lip, staring at the camera rather than him. He had said a lot. And at the same time, her insides had gone to mush.

Because it was what he deserved, she did finally meet his gaze, and she smiled at him. A small smile that she hoped conveyed more than just her words as she breathed in awe: "My goodness, Chuck Bartowski, but you know how to make a girl swoon."

Chuck swallowed loudly, not seeming to know how to respond to that.

Deciding to save him some embarrassment, she teasingly held the camera up to her eye, pretending to take a picture of him, and then she lowered it just an inch and winked at him over it. "You take any photos with it yet?"

She saw the blush redden his face immediately. "Oh. Erm…I have." She gave him an excited look. She wanted to see what he'd captured, but he hurried on. "But listen, I'm sure they're terrible."

"Oh, come on. You're probably just being overly harsh."

"Well, I-I haven't exactly seen them. I'm not sure how to develop them. See, I've had cameras that weren't this nice, for beach trips with my sister, my friends. You take them in to have them developed. I don't know what to do with this." He poked the camera.

"I'll do it for you."

He winced. "That seems like such a waste of your time, Sarah. You've got these award winning, art show worthy photographs. You should be using your time, efforts, your materials, on those. Not my incredibly rudimentary garbage photographs."

"Come now. It'd be a pleasure for me to do it for you." She really wanted to see what his photographer's eye saw. She was more than intrigued about it. Maybe it'd tell her even more about him than all of this pillow talk they had a habit of engaging in.

"It's gonna be really mortifying to have a pro look at these. With your eye?"

"Chuck, please. Nobody picks up a camera and takes perfect shots right off the bat. I sure didn't," she giggled. "I'm not going to judge even if it's a roll of photographs with your thumb covering 'em up."

He laughed. "I don't think I did that?"

She laughed with him. "Let me develop them. Please?" She pouted. "It'll be a way for me to miss you a little less when I can't see you. You bought a camera and took photos 'cause you missed me…I'm developing 'em for you 'cause I miss you. I dunno, I think that's sort'a sweet, don't you?"

Chuck pressed his chest into her and sank lower, his face close to hers. "Wow. Well, you say it like that and…yeah. Okay. You can develop 'em for me. Thank you."

"You're welcome." She made a face. "Who knows? Maybe you've got a real talent here and I'll be jealous," she teased, winking at him.

"Oh ho ho. Don't hold your breath, Sarah Walker."

She laughed, pushing herself up to kiss him, getting lost in his lips, the sensation of his curls against the sensitive skin between her fingers. When they broke the kiss, she hummed. "I…might actually go for a drink now," she admitted.

"Splendid idea!"

She threw her head back, laughing even harder, as he bounced himself out of the bed jauntily, moving to step into his undershorts and pull them up, grabbing a sleeveless undershirt and pulling that down over his torso, mussing his hair even more.

Deciding not to be the only one without clothes on, she pulled her own underwear back on, opting against her dress and instead grabbing Chuck's button-up, shrugging that on and buttoning it for modesty.

She wandered up to his bar and leaned her hip against it, watching him work. "What'cha making?"

"Whiskey highball work for you?"

"Perfect. Thank you."

He looked up at her and his eyes slowly rolled down her body to her toes, before he looked away again, pouring the whiskey in the tall glasses.

"I borrowed your shirt. Is that okay?"

"Yes. In fact, I insist you do it as often as possible."

She giggled, unprepared for him to be so candid. He smirked at her and went back to the bartending.

When he was done, he picked up one of the drinks and offered it to her. His sleeves were too long for her arms though, so when she reached out to take it, the sleeve drooped down past her fingers limply, certainly in the way.

"Oh," she mumbled. "Hm."

He let out a boyish giggle and put the drink back down. "A minor problem we can solve. Here." The way he smiled at her, a certain adoration reflected in his handsome face, as he picked up her arm and carefully folded back the sleeve so that the thick cuff rested at her wrist, doing the same with the other arm… Damn, was she swooning again?

"Thank you," she said shyly.

"You're welcome." He handed her the drink and picked up his own. "Here's hoping my photographs aren't a complete waste of your time as you set to the task of developing them."

She sent him a faux glare. "You stop that. I have a better toast. To new hobbies."

"That is betterrrr," he crooned. He clinked his glass against hers and they drank, smiling at one another over their drinks. He made a happy little humming sound that made her beam at him, and then: "How do you feel about drinking these over there in that bed?"

Without a word, she took his hand, leading him back to the bed, laying his hand on her shoulder, and they carefully climbed back into bed, snuggling close, her back to his chest, enjoying one another and the whiskey highballs at the same time.

She'd finished just over half of hers, losing herself in the exciting sensations of his lips making a pattern along her jawline, pressing to her neck teasingly, when she heard something. Her whole body went tense. She froze. "Wait, stop."

"Mm'sorry. Did I—?"

"Sh." She reached back to slide her hand over his jaw. "D'you hear that?" she whispered.

He went tense too, then. "Did someone just open my front door?"

Sarah burst out of the bed immediately, ignoring his grunt of pain when she accidentally jammed herself into his crotch. She had a knife in her purse, and she left her purse—Ah. There.

"Sarah, what are you doing?" he hissed as she grabbed the purse, snapped it open, and pulled her knife. "Is that a knife?!"

She put her finger to her lips. Someone was in his apartment. And after that article came out, she had a bad feeling that someone was sent for Chuck.

"Sarah, I'm not letting you—" He started clambering out of the bed, his inherent need to be the brave one in the situation, to protect her, whatever else it was, showing itself. But she pointed at the bed, lifting her knife.

"Trust me," she whispered.

She pressed herself against the wall beside the door, knife at the ready.

Chuck stood by the bed, frozen. Not the best place for him as the target, but she didn't have much time to get him to do otherwise, because she heard footsteps in the hallway, loud, clunking footsteps…heels…?

"Chuck? Are you here?!"

Sarah's heart plummeted at the sound of a woman's voice. A young woman's voice. Familiar with him. Very familiar, apparently. Familiar enough to have come into his condo without knocking. Did she have a damn key?

Sarah Walker dropped the knife to her side as Chuck went white as a sheet, his brown eyes going wide as saucers as he looked at her. The gig was up. And she knew the pain was incoming, her face falling as she met his gaze.

A/N: I know this is a cliffhanger, so I'm making arrangements to make sure I post the next chapter much sooner than I did this one. I'm trying, folks. :)

Thanks for reading. Review if you're able.

-SC