Author's Note: This chapter will be the Sarah Walker interlude, giving the first details on what happened to her in the past two years. This will be dark, centering around on themes that are more appropriately leaning on an M rating. But nothing explicit. Enjoy!

PS: The teaser scenes are not glimpses of the next chapter, but glimpses of what will happen in future chapters down the line.

Chapter 4

5:49 AM

July 23, 2012

Walker Residence

Westhampton, McLean

Virginia, USA

Sarah Walker hated early mornings.

She had never been an early riser, as proven by the hundreds, possibly thousands of alarm clocks she had viciously and unjustly murdered due to their incessant infernal ringing that always roused her far too early than what she was comfortable with. She had many others still in stock, since she always bought in bulk.

"Sarah, it's better for you to buy them by the dozen, preferably a couple, for you to at least be able to go to work in time."

She stiffened.

After all this time, she was still hearing his voice.

Suddenly feeling her throat parched, she swung her legs to get up in bed, and went to her kitchen to fetch herself a glass of water. Greedily drinking the half-filled glass, she watched as the rays of the early morning sun seeped through the windows of her room, and sighed.

She was not expected to go report back at Langley until 9 in the morning, but she surmised that going there would be more productive than just staying here in her apartment staring at nothing.

And being reminded of him.

At her office, there were no visible artifacts to distract her, fully allowing her to give her 100% focus on the job, perfecting the reputation of the infamous and detached Ice Queen, the feared Wild Card Enforcer.

At least that's what she always told herself.

She strode back to her bed, beelining for her bedside table, and opened a bottom drawer.

The sight of the Nerd Herd pocket protector froze her momentarily, before she sat down by the bed and caressed the item in her hands, tears unbiddenly being shed.

She missed him so much that it hurts.

Her father had been correct when he told her 14-year-old self that love is cruel, and that to tempt yourself in being consumed by it was to let yourself be condemned in an eternity of pain and misery.

She would have preferred being hurt while still being able to see him even from afar, content in the knowledge that he was alive and healthy, and happy, even if his happiness was being with another woman.

At this point, that was not even possible anymore.

If the mission objective was to collect all the tears she had shed since that fateful night in March, she would already have filled 3 Olympic size swimming pools. That's how much she had cried over him, for him, because of him.

Crying had been her constant companion for so long she could probably teach aspiring actresses how to scrunch up eyes for a river when auditioning, in just under 3 seconds. That's how pathetic she had been over the last two years, and probably would be for the next 60 years more.

The fact that she was not able to attend his funeral crushed her so completely. She would have wanted to at least see the empty coffin that was being laid to rest, and to seek comfort from Ellie, Devon and Morgan, and give them comfort in return, but no, she had not also been able to do that.

For on the same day that he was being buried, she was in her own foolish little bubble of a life she had chosen for herself, and was still none the wiser that the man she loved, the man she still loved, and the man she will love until her last breath, had been killed in an explosion during a mission somewhere in Poland.

That bastard fucking piece of wooden shit! She gritted her teeth at the memory.

He was her greatest mistake.

The reality that she had been stupid – oh so spectacularly stupid – to ever deign to pursue him – him, of all people – still haunted her.

Yes, her man had fully transformed her back to being a girl again – 'Be careful Sarah, or you'll find yourself turning to be a real girl' – allowing her to fully immerse herself in emotions that she had never before experienced, much less entertained. Her man made her weak, but he also made her strong. Her man made her in love, in loved with him. He made her vulnerable, in all the good and bad ways.

Those first 20 months in Burbank before the incident had been the happiest months of her life. She was blessed to be given a chance to get a glimpse of what normal life would have been for her had she not chosen to accompany her dad in his misadventures all those years ago. What a normal life would have been like for her, if she was able to meet a man that she believed she could truly see herself with, be able to spend time with, going on dates, watching movies, having fun, sharing kisses and hugs, cuddle and snuggle with in bed or on the couch, shower with, make love to.

In Burbank, she was given the opportunity of that and more.

In Burbank, she took that opportunity and more.

For the most part, at least. The last one she was not able to tick off the list.

That last one she would never be able to tick off the list.

And then the incident happened, and everything spiraled to hell.

Having at least a year to reflect back on all the things that happened, she could now honestly admit how wrong she had been, of how stupid she had been, of how pathetic she had been.

She lost him, and she would, and could, never blame anyone but herself.

Nearly six months after she gave him up, she had still been condemning herself to be with the traitor, but at the time she did not saw that as condemnation. She had been so full of herself back then. So sure that she had made the right choice, had picked the right man. When the bastard proposed, in a restaurant of all places, she had been so touched – so foolishly touched – that someone would even be that receptive of her to see her as a wife. At the time, she saw it as perfectly logical, because Shaw had already proposed before, and therefore had the experience of feeling, of judging if his significant other was the one he wishes to spend the rest of his life with. So she said yes.

After all, Shaw was a good man, right? He was a good spy, a great spy, a hero. And he had been in a spy relationship before. They had so much in common, they could connect more, they could be with themselves with each other more truthfully, more freely, without awful expectations they could not aspire to.

Unlike him, unlike being with him.

So she accepted.

Oh how stupid she was.

Sex with Shaw had been good, to say the least. She could at least reach her climax, albeit with a little bit of her own magic. And at least he knew some degree of foreplay.

But looking back at it now, being intimate with him feel no stranger than how she felt being intimate with Bryce, when the two of them were still partners, still the Andersons, still whatever the kind of couple they were supposed to be, on and off missions.

Being with Shaw felt like being with all the other men she had slept all those years ago.

Before Burbank.

Before being with Chuck.

In those 20 months they had been together – as a cover-couple – they had shared several kisses – on the neck, on the collarbone, on the lips. They had caressed each other several times – passionately, lustfully, intimately. Even hugs, cuddles, snuggles sparked something more.

Something almost equivalent to fully being physically united.

A caress from him burned her.

A peck from him stoked her.

A hug from him electrified her.

A smile from him enlivened her.

There had been only two instances where she and Chuck had come oh so very close on finally crossing the threshold.

The first had been when they rushed to the shower upon being sprayed, at that moment, by a biochemical weapon. In the end it was only some fruit juice – what a prank it was – but during those intense several seconds of their lives, they were determined to survive, and to do that they had to jump in the shower together, claw each other's garments away and frantically wash each other's bodies. Had they remained a second or longer there, surviving would not have been their only concern.

The second time was that fateful early morning at that motel in Barstow. Waking up to him, being spooned by him, being caressed by him, being encapsulated in his arms, woke something inside her body. And then they were suddenly frantically kissing, necking, caressing each other. And goddamn Morgan, the little bearded troll, had to ruin it all, by his stupid IOU. She had never more hated the little guy than that particular moment.

Her and Chuck had never been intimate in the fullest sense of the word, but every second, every minute, every hour, every day of being with him, of basking in his presence, of being graced by his smile, 90% of those times she could only think of how it would be so good of being finally fully united with him.

With Shaw, she could only feel being stoked right at the moment they were having sex, and several times, she had to fully immerse herself into it just to feel that embers of stoke.

Still, the sex had been good, and she had been without for more than 3 years by then.

And then, after they became engaged, she was honestly surprised that Shaw could even turn it up a notch.

That he had even carnal fantasies he would like to get into with a partner.

Carnal fantasies that involved her being a submissive.

All of that had been new to Sarah.

After all, whenever she got into bed, whether on or off the mission, she had enjoyed the feeling of power, of control, over her bedmates.

She and Carina were too alike in that regard.

By her count, there had only been a couple of men she even considered the idea of being submissive to every once in a while.

Bryce, when they were still a couple, when she still so foolishly thought that their "under-the-cover, above-the-cover" relationship would mean something more than just being bedwarmers to each other.

And Chuck.

With Bryce, she had only ever deigned the thought of being a submissive once, maybe, twice. He was so masochistic in sex anyway that she didn't think he deserved it.

With Chuck, she would have been that all the time, at least if they had managed to get at that point. The fact that Chuck fully respected her and her body, never always pushing past the limits he himself had established unless she assuages him several times, that too him being equals in bed was the only acceptable romantic way to be with each other intimately, made her think that Chuck really deserves her all, really deserve for her to be that in that aspect.

Shaw had been so romantic, so convincing, so honeysweet, that she gave in.

And what a mistake that was.

On the night that the man she loved died, she was being sexually abused by another man, a monster.

Those nightmarish 40 days and 40 nights would always be marked in her memories.

She had sacrificed herself, her body, her soul, to the devil.

She felt so defiled, so dirty, so unworthy, so wretched.

And at the end of those hellish days on earth, when she was being broken physically and mentally, her end was made near.

During those days, she was so troubled, so confused. On one hand, her body, to her shame, had been in full cooperation to being Shaw's damn toy. On another hand, she felt it so wrong, so traumatic, so painful that she should have stopped it from the get go, made her stand.

Yet on another hand, another part of her mind admonishes her that this was justice being done, justice for the man she had hurt so much, for the man she put to the emotional equivalent of purgatory for the past 3 years, for the man she had sacrificed to darkness. That suffering this kind of humiliation was her penance, was her own way of making things right, regardless if it could be seen as insensical and diabolical by others.

So, she soldiered on, and pretended that she liked what the monster was doing to her.

She liked what the penance was doing to her mind and soul.

And then Shaw took her to Paris, tortured her for three days, drugged her with several neurotoxins, and nearly murdered her.

If Casey hadn't arrived to put 6 bullets through his back and two in his head, Sarah Walker would have been another notch in the hallmark of spies that had laid their lives for the service to their country, but sacrifice their souls and hearts to the devil.

In those several seconds of almost facing death, Shaw finally revealed how monstrous he had been.

That he did all those things to her because he was punishing her for being the murderer of his wife, which she now knew as the target she was assigned to for her Red Test.

That her separation with Chuck was his plan.

That Chuck growing into become a typical spy, to her shock, horror and desperation, was his plan.

That Chuck being pushed away towards Hannah was his plan.

That Chuck being heartbroken because she had chosen Shaw over him, revealed her real name to Shaw rather than to him, given her trust to Shaw instead to him, was his plan.

That her, Sarah Walker, being his willing puppet, his sex toy to do as he wishes, when he wishes, was his plan.

That her, Sarah Walker, being killed by him, in the pursuit of revenge, was his plan.

That Chuck, the love of her life, being killed in a mission in Poland, by his subordinates, was his plan.

She spent almost two weeks in the hospital recovering from injuries alone. Then spent another 5 months more, caged in a self-induced coma brought on by so much painful reflection, so much regretful realization.

When she finally was able to get out of it, she realized that it would only be a few days more before the anniversary of her breaking him for the final time.

She fell into a 7-month long depression period.

In 218 days, she had over 41 suicide attempts, 6 of which almost succeeded.

Almost succeeded in ending her pain.

Almost succeeded in her being able to be reunited with him finally, in the next life.

Losing him, on top of living the pathetic, wretched life she had had over the months she broke him, had finally brought her to the edge.

She hated all the nurses, all the doctors, all the therapists, all the CIA agents that stopped her.

Did they not understood that she had no reason to live anymore?

Chuck had been that reason, the only reason, for a very long time.

With him gone, her purpose to continue on had disappeared.

It took a visit from Ellie and Devon for her to stop all her attempts.

At first, she could not comprehend why the sister of the man she had broken would have the sympathy of caring enough for her to continue to live. She should have hated her, cursed her, struck her. She did not deserve to breathe the same air as his sister and brother-in-law. She did not deserve their love, their sympathy, their help, when after everything they had done for her, after everything they had given her, she responded by destroying the man they all loved in their own ways.

Over the tears, Ellie had explained to her that she now all knew the full-story, that Casey had come over to tell her the truth, to reveal the real events of what happened since that fateful birthday of the kindest, most wonderful man on Earth. That she knew that despite everything she did, that Chuck still loved her, and would have given his life for her, would wish happiness for her. That she too had forgiven Sarah Walker, that she accepted her as her best friend, with or without her being with Chuck, that she deemed her as her little sister.

Sarah had broken right there and then, and the two women cried and comforted each other. Devon hugged them both, silently weeping tears of his own.

Ellie and Devon took leave and helped her recover, to get back up to her own feet once again, to heal her heart once more. They brought her so many things that Chuck had owned, so that she could basked in his absence once again. So that she could remain to be with Chuck in some way.

Two weeks after this year had begun, she reported back to Langley for the first time in over a year. She gave her resignation letter to Director Henry Evenson. But the man had made her a counter-offer. After she passed her psych evals, and recertified, she would be promoted as a Special Agent, and assigned as Assistant Deputy Director of the NCS.

Still being so lost, she accepted, and had been given been her own office.

Her almost 13 years of being a field operative had effectively ended.

Her phone suddenly rung, and upon noticing it, a message from Evenson revealed she was to report to the Director of National Intelligence at 9 AM sharp.

Major-General Dianne Beckman.

She had not seen the petite woman for four months now.

'What does she need me for?'

Shaking her head, she went to dab her tears away, only to find out that they had been in fact already been dried on her cheeks.

Sighing, she glanced at the bedside frame photo of her and the man she loved, their first real photo together.

"I miss you Chuck, and I love you, in this lifetime or the next," she whispered hoarsely.

Before she could start weeping again, she abruptly stood up and walked to her bathroom.

Time to once more face off and deal with another day in her pathetic, wretched, accursed, worthless, empty life.

-Break-

9:22 AM

July 23, 2012

Office of the Director of National Intelligence

The briefing had been going on for several minutes now, but she found she could hardly give her full attention to what the general was saying. On the ottoman next to her, sat her old partner, Colonel John Casey. The two of them had briefly talked with each other upon meeting on the way to the office of the director, with Casey asking about her health. She gratefully told him that she was alright. She owed so much to the man that was so like a gruff, older-brother figure to her. He saved her life after all, and had been one of the important people to help her recover in her dark days. Most importantly, he was one of the last links to the memories of the man she loved.

She could honestly say that the both of them had been going bored over this matter that Beckman had been yammering about. Something over like suspicious chatters in Southeast Asia or the other. Sure, she could appreciate the importance of this issue, and she was sure Casey did too, but the thing is, both were already sort of hearing about this sort of chatters for a little while.

The way the director was going, it seemed to Sarah that she was implying that the two of them go over there to personally take care of it.

Didn't she remember that she was no longer a field operative anymore? She was an assistant director for Christ' sake. While a part of her would miss going over there to personally investigate, missing the good old days, at present she just didn't care too much anymore.

She was just going along with the flow.

She could see Casey taking up the task, even though the last she heard he had also been relegated to being a glorified paper-pusher. Age was finally catching up to him, she snickered.

They could just pass this to their subordinates to take care off.

"I guess our meeting would have to be postponed then for a later time, Director?"

Sarah stiffened.

That voice.

She knew that voice.

It had been exactly 861 since she had heard that voice.

How could it be? How could she hear it now?

Was she dreaming again?

Turning back her own seat in a complete 180 degrees towards the source of the voice that she had heard, she barely noticed Casey doing the same.

Both of them came face to face with a sight they had not expected to see for the rest of their lives.

Her head was spinning, her heart was beating so fast.

That hair.

That face.

That build.

That aura.

Those eyes.

She didn't realize her eyes were welling up with tears, her hands were shaking, her lips were wobbling.

She was being turmoiled by so many conflicting emotions.

Confusion.

Disbelief.

Sorrow.

Regret.

Joy.

Hope.

And then, her delayed reaction, a gasp escaped unbidden from her throat.

"CHUCK?!"

Next Chapter: Beckman assigns Chuck, Sarah, Casey the mission to the Philippines, and formally reassembles Team Intersect / Team Bartowski. The trio then meets at Chuck's apartment and discusses the plan for the mission. The Woodcombs celebrate Clara's first birthday. Jeffster stumbles into a secret.

Teaser Scene:

"Casey, help me with these two bodies, we'll interrogate him back at the safehouse."

Sarah whirled at him.

"Interrogate?! How could you interrogate them, Chuck?! You shot them, now they're dead! How could you kill them!"

He glared at her, eyes smoldering with pure, unadulterated rage.

"The same way I killed Perry, or did you already forget?!"

She gaped at him, shocked, unable to make a comeback.

"Tsk," he growled, "this is the reason we shouldn't even be working together. You couldn't help but be your old, pretentious, self-righteous self. You're nothing like…."

She regained her voice.

"Nothing like what, Chuck? I'm nothing like what?" she sniped, thoroughly fed up of how bad he was treating her since they had been reunited.

Scoffing at her, he rebolstered his gun, and discreetly threw away another memento at the scene, just like he had done so many times before.

"You're nothing like HER. You'll never be like HER."