A/N: As promised, I'm back at Season 3. A few wtf's here. Sarah actually fell asleep on the couch with him, because if you look closely, his nightmare wakes her up. Morgan is there when they haul Chuck away and I'm assuming both he and Sarah went home that night with no Chuck. What happened there that Casey has to tell Morgan a day later that Chuck is in the hospital? Chuck's lies are exposed by Beckman and Dreyfus...but does Chuck ever know that Sarah knows that he lied? Or does he just believe that he was proven right? It makes sense for later when he lies again...Chuck also never mentions seeing Shaw in his dreams or what that means. The dream flashes are weird and don't readily make sense. I mean, how can Shaw being alive be in the Intersect? Except it's Chuck's brain making the connection between the experiments and the Ring saving him. With the exception of the malaria, I left Justin and Ellie out of this chapter. It acts as a bridge for the Living Dead chapter, because all this was going on and no one noticed because of what was going on with Chuck. How is Devon's malaria explained if he was obviously drugged and never got malaria? Malaria shows in a lab test and Devon wouldn't have tested positive, unless the Ring did something to him to make it look that way. Don't know. Anyway, enjoy. I am not looking forward to the stupid earring chapter next.

Living together was a new adventure.

I know in the real world, for normal people, it was a huge step in a relationship. Something to seriously consider, a life changing situation. Even the strongest of relationships could crumble when faced with being around each other so much.

But as we liked to say so often, Chuck and I weren't a normal couple. Even if I left out the spy part.

For us, it was love at first sight. Love that grew in silence, watered in the dark with the hope that the sun would bring it to life. We fought for our relationship, even in its darkest hours. We were different; we were special.

So I moved in with my boyfriend after we had only been officially dating for a few months. My boyfriend and his best friend, as if just that wasn't weird enough.

Inside, I was floating on a cloud. Happy like I know I had never been before. I was home. For the very first time in my life. Home. Because I was with Chuck.

It's worth it to mention here because it definitely came up. The amount of time that Chuck and I spent together. We lived together, we worked together. My friends were his friends. We were almost never apart.

To some, that would be stifling. Unhealthy even.

But it worked for us.

Despite the fact that still, after all that, I hadn't told him that I loved him. There were so many times the words were there, on the tip of my tongue, but I never said them. I would tell myself during sex wasn't the right time, or as a reply when he said it first…until I had backed myself into a corner, afraid that after so long and so much deliberation, it would never seem genuine.

It did bother him, worry him. But we never talked about it. I mean, I understand why. Was he just supposed to come out and ask me if I loved him? He'd already done that, as a matter of fact. Did he need to do it again? And was I supposed to tell him that I couldn't say my feelings out loud? It was a terrible situation that fed off its own awkwardness.

In my mind, I could justify it because to me, they were words. Love was an action, something you did. Even if I couldn't say it, I showed it. But Chuck needed to hear it. All the pain and rejection he had endured in his life—those words would have gone a long way to putting him at ease, to let him know that I chose him, that he meant everything to me.

I have plenty of regrets in my life, more than most to be fair. I regret not telling him how I felt for so long. It definitely contributed to the hell our lives were soon to become.

Living with Chuck, however, had at least one consequence that I wasn't expecting. I was keenly aware of his habits. He told me everything was fine, but I knew he was having trouble sleeping. And that he was having nightmares.

At first, I thought it was because he killed Shaw. I'd had nightmares for months after my red test. It was a few months later, but I thought it was still a possibility. In truth, Chuck never had one nightmare over his own forced red test. He hated the idea of killing, but when he'd had no choice, it never weighed on him. His conscience was clear.

In the end, the nightmares were a symptom of something much worse. In a very short period of time, the nightmares increased, until almost every time he fell asleep, he woke up screaming.

Ellie and Devon had been in Africa for almost a month, the entire span of time that Chuck and I had been living together. Chuck missed them more than he would admit to me. Sometimes I thought that perhaps the nightmares were related to Ellie's absence. He and his sister had a unique relationship, one that I respected because I understood what his childhood had been like, what they'd been through together.

A little over a month into their foray with Doctors Without Borders, we got a phone call in the middle of the night from Ellie. She and Devon were on their way back to the U.S. Devon had contracted malaria; the couple had been granted emergency medical transport. I know Chuck was worried, hearing the fear in his sister's voice when she was usually so calm and in control. I'm sure all that stress didn't help Chuck sleep better at night, either.

Once they returned, Devon was hospitalized for almost a week while he was being treated. Eventually, they sent him home to recuperate and Ellie stayed at home with him caretaking. Ellie told us Devon had responded well to his treatment, and the prognosis was very good that he wouldn't have any lingering side effects from the infection. It was a relief for everyone.

But still, the nightmares persisted, long after anything I could have imagined was stressing him out was resolved. Whenever I asked, Chuck would just tell me he was fine. But I was worried.

Chuck and I had a routine when we were at home. Of course, we did have very stressful jobs, so it was nice to be able to just spend time together at home relaxing. Winding down from missions was something I had never really thought about before, but now that we could do it, I would wonder how I managed all that time without it.

It was a night like this that all of this came to a head. Chuck and I were relaxing on the sofa at home. Morgan was out helping his mother at her house. We were just flipping through the channels, looking for something to watch. I sat up with my feet on the coffee table and Chuck was reclining with his head in my lap. Something that normal couples do all the time, I'm sure, but it was sweet when he did that. I loved running my fingers through his hair until he would almost purr with contentment.

I was taking a silly movie about spies way too seriously…and Chuck made a joke. He made me laugh, reminding me that he was just being funny.

He sort of stopped laughing and just…looked at me. It was that same way he always looked at me, his eyes so full of emotion.

"I love you." His voice was soft, but sincere.

And there I was, back in that awful spiral, not able to just say it. I touched his face lovingly. But he was waiting for words. I hurt him, increasing his anxiety, but, like I mentioned before, I just couldn't say it. I second guessed it all. After so long of not saying it, I just blurt it out now? What was worse, saying it or not saying it?

I know now not saying it was the worst I could do, but in those situations, it was easy to talk myself out of it. Eventually he turned his head back to the tv. He ended up falling asleep. And then I must have dozed off as well.

Chuck waking up hard from a nightmare, sitting bolt upright and gasping, woke me up. My heart was pounding, as I was alarmed and disoriented, but I asked him if he'd had another bad dream.

This time, he told me some of what it was about. Beethoven and Zamibia. I was too worried about him at the moment to connect it to the flash of news we had seen while we were flipping through the channels earlier. I told him I was worried.

He was convinced this nightmare was trying to tell him something. He couldn't put anything into words, but he was insistent on going to Casey's apartment so that he could talk to General Beckman. I asked him if it could wait until the morning, but he was restless, unable to sit still. I thought, whatever it was, if he was that concerned, was probably worth waking up the general.

Chuck was certain that the Ring was going to kill the president of Zamibia at a Beethoven concert that was scheduled for the next evening. Casey was furious that he was woken up by something that, according to him, could have waited until the morning.

I knew once the general asked Chuck if he flashed that we were in trouble. Chuck had to explain to her that it was only from a dream. Once he started to string together the images from his dream in a way to show her how he had come to the conclusions he had, I have to admit, he sounded…well, crazy. At least a little.

I emphasized to the general that Chuck had been under a lot of stress with the intensity and frequency of the nightmares. Beckman took me seriously then. She told Chuck she was sending him to a CIA therapist.

I felt a cold chill when she said that. Casey and I exchanged a look that I know Chuck didn't see. Psychiatrists who worked for the CIA were a unique breed. Trained in psyops, but also clinical physicians. It sounds nice on the surface–the CIA paid people to counsel operatives. Only, that wasn't their function. It was to assess an operative's readiness to be in the field after work-related trauma. Or when an operative started to show signs of cracking under the strain of the job. This doctor Beckman was sending Chuck to was only ordered to determine if Chuck could still function as an agent, not to help him really in any way.

Chuck, despite being a full fledged agent for a while, was still a little naive when it came to harsh realities like that. I know he resisted Beckman's order because he didn't think anything was wrong. She made it clear that it wasn't an option. I was worried, but I wanted Chuck to feel better. Even if it wasn't the doctor's job to make Chuck feel better, I hoped that Chuck being able to talk to him would still help.

She arranged the appointment with Dr. Dreyfus for the next day.

When I got home, Chuck was in the bathroom, freshly home from his appointment. I knocked on the door and asked him how everything went at the doctor's.

He told me everything was fine. That was a lie.

I found out later what the truth was–that the doctor had told him there was a real potential that the Intersect was in the process of beginning to overwhelm Chuck's mind, causing a slow descent into insanity. He removed Chuck from field duty. And all Chuck told me was that he was fine. I even pressed, telling him that I wasn't just his partner, I was his girlfriend.

His girlfriend…who stayed completely silent when he told me he loved me.

He shouldn't have lied—but I shouldn't have pushed him away. That was, in effect, what I was doing while I was dithering about what to do, what to say.

I was doing a routine check-in with Casey, showing up in Castle, when he said he was surprised to see me. He thought I had a date with Chuck, since he saw Chuck leave the Buy More earlier in a tuxedo. I was immediately suspicious, since he had said nothing to me at all about anything.

I went back through the surveillance footage from the store to try and piece together what was going on. I found the footage of Chuck and Morgan with the tuxes in the back room of the Buy More. I was able to enlarge the view enough to see that Chuck had two tickets to the symphony for that evening. The concert at which he had told Beckman the Ring was going to try to kill the president of Zamibia.

I told Casey Chuck was trying to prove us wrong. Casey was furious with both of them.

I wasn't angry at Chuck—just extraordinarily hurt that he went behind my back like that instead of talking to me about it.

Casey drove us to the symphony hall. We went charging in looking for them. They were easy to spot. Casey went for Morgan and sent me after Chuck.

I ran into Chuck in the lobby. He was definitely surprised to see me.

I told him I couldn't let him do what he was doing. He swore that the person who was going to kill the president was in his box with him and that we needed to stop him immediately.

I told him he should have told me, that I could have helped him. He did apologize. He told me he loved me and he needed me to believe that he wasn't crazy.

I know he had no ulterior motive for saying he loved me. He just loved me. But the spy in me went there first, feeling like he had chosen the exact right thing to say to get under my skin. I know now he thought his appearance of craziness would push me farther away. I was desperate to let him know that I did love him, too, even if I couldn't say it. So I agreed to help him.

We ran to the president's box together.

I approached calmly, telling the guard that we were there conducting a routine weapons sweep. If anyone seated with Kuti was planning on killing him, a weapons sweep would flush it out. Chuck was a little too eager, going straight for one of the men seated with Kuti. Chuck dragged him to his feet and started frisking him, while the president watched in complete outrage. I tried to get Chuck to go easy, but he was determined, almost possessed.

Out of nowhere it seemed, Chuck pulled back his fist and punched Dr. Kowambe across the face, knocking him down.

I panicked, nearly shrieking, asking Chuck if he was out of his mind, which was not the right thing to say. Then Chuck started rambling. He said his intel was wrong, that it wasn't an assassination attempt, it was Ring intel in his tooth. Chuck started freaking out, scrambling for the tooth that he'd knocked out of Kowambe's mouth.

I've been in almost non-stop perilous, mortal danger for a good part of my life. And I have never been as frightened as I was at that moment, standing there, watching the man that I love appear to have a complete mental breakdown right before my eyes.

The situation rapidly devolved. Casey came and found me after he heard the commotion. Kuti's guards were dragging Chuck away. Kuti ordered that Chuck be arrested, but Casey intervened, stating that we were federal agents. That got Beckman involved. She ordered Chuck to be taken to a CIA psychiatric unit for observation.

Casey and I went with Chuck, all the way until they pulled him behind the locked unit door. He struggled and pleaded the entire time, telling us he wasn't crazy, that we had to believe him.

My heart was breaking. I could barely hold myself together. I hate that I lost faith in him, that I was terrified that Chuck was in fact starting to snap, that he was losing it.

Casey was better at masking his feelings than me, but I could tell he was worried too. He held me together, taking me home when I felt like I couldn't just leave Chuck there alone. He told me we would get this sorted out, that things would be ok. I'm not sure if he said it just to make me feel better, or maybe to convince himself.

I spent an awful night alone in our bed. Morgan was in the apartment, but he avoided me like the plague, probably because he was afraid of how I was going to react, considering he had helped Chuck behind our backs. In Morgan's defense, I know he told Chuck to tell me what was going on, and Chuck refused. I knew Morgan was just as worried after seeing his friend hauled away to a mental institution. I could have talked to Morgan, but at this point, I couldn't even talk to Chuck, so the opportunity slipped away.

In the morning, Beckman did a fine dressing down of both Casey and me for our ignorance of Chuck's activities.

I just asked her how Chuck was doing. She softened a bit, which actually made me worry more, because it was unlike her.

She said Dr. Dreyfus thought Chuck's condition was worse than originally diagnosed. I, of course, was bewildered, and I told her Chuck told me everything was fine.

Beckman paled a bit and I felt my heart sink to my feet. She apologized. Because she had to tell me the truth that Chuck never said…the Intersect was slowly degrading Chuck's mind.

"He told me he was fine." I said it more to myself, because I needed to hear it, because I wanted to believe it. It was easier than admitting that Chuck had lied to me about his diagnosis. I saw Casey balk when I said that. Beckman looked so…sad. I think that frightened me most of all. She said something about doing everything they could for him…but my brain was spiraling inward at that point and I don't recall every word she said.

I remember her saying, though, that she cared about him too. That was a lot, coming from Beckman.

Casey–John Casey–was left to console me. Ironic, sure, but Chuck had really softened Casey up by this point. As Casey was so fond of saying, Casey didn't care about his own feelings, let alone someone else's. But he was worried for me, telling me we would go see Chuck later that afternoon, that he was sure seeing me would make Chuck feel better.

I was terrified.

Seeing Chuck at the hospital only increased that sense of terror. We were meeting with him in a patient area, which was troubling and sad. Chuck didn't seem like any of the people we saw, but I couldn't shake the feeling that he could be, or that it was slowly happening. He was dressed in inpatient scrubs. I had never felt so awkward around him as I did, trying to make conversation with my boyfriend.

Chuck was insisting that the scientist was still out there, that he was still a threat. I tried to tell Chuck that it was ok, that it was me. He completely freaked me out, gagging and pulling a tooth from his mouth that he had obviously picked up at the concert hall, the one he had knocked out of Dr. Kowambe's mouth. He wouldn't listen and forced me to take the tooth from him. I did my best to not appear as disgusted as I was.

He wanted us to analyze the tooth, because he thought it wasn't real, that it contained Ring intel. Casey left us alone for a few seconds.

Chuck pleaded with me to not give up on him. Again, it broke my heart. I promised him we would test it. They came to get him and I kissed him goodbye. Watching him walk away was almost physically painful.

Casey and I went back to Castle to test the tooth. I had convinced myself that if I could just prove that Chuck was right, that anything that he said was actually true, that somehow this would all end. He would be right, not crazy, and I could have him back in my life and everything would be ok again.

It turned out to be just a human tooth with no abnormalities. I had to admit to Casey that Chuck was wrong. He apologized, then left me alone.

I called Chuck in the hospital to tell him that we couldn't find anything. I tried to comfort him, tell him everything was going to be ok. I could tell from his voice that he didn't believe that–he thought he was crazy.

How could I love him if he was crazy? I know that's what he thought. Me not saying it then, when he needed me to the most, only made things worse.

I spent the rest of the day in a daze. I decided that I was going to talk to Chuck's doctor. I spent all day looking for his information, so that I could find his home address. Unorthodox perhaps, but I was desperate.

Something had to have been overlooked. How could this be happening, that Chuck was just disintegrating before our eyes? We had to do something. What, I didn't know, but I had to do something. I never dealt well with feeling helpless.

I found Dr. Dreyfus' address and went to his home after dark. I was hoping he wouldn't be too upset at the breach of his privacy. I took a deep breath, walked to his front door, and knocked on the door.

"Let me guess. You're here because of Chuck." He was in his bathrobe, but his face was kind, his voice gravelly but patient.

"Doctor, I know that there has to be something more to his condition. He can't just be deteriorating in this way."

"Why? Because you care about him?"

"No. You don't understand. He's not like other people. He is…incredibly special."

"Huh. Especially to you, I gather."

"He needs to be ok. I-I need him to be ok. I'd like to go to the hospital tonight and talk to him, try and figure this out, and then help him somehow, you know?" He just looked at me, quiet compassion on his face. "Please." I took a breath. "I love him."

"Ever tell him that?" he was quick to add. It was like he hit me with his fist. No, I never had…but obviously Chuck had said something to him, or else how would he know what a pain point that was for us?

Why did it take this for me to be able to say it? And why did I say it to a man I had never met before, when I could have said it to the man that I loved? It wasn't that hard to say, faced with what it could mean to never be able to say it to him, or to say it and have him suddenly be too far gone to understand it.

I pushed that aside. "Please, Doctor, I am begging you." I didn't know what else to do, what else to say.

"You're not the only one," Dreyfus said with a soft smile, and then stepped aside.

John Casey stepped from behind the doctor into the light where I could see him. I had never seen that look on Casey's face before that moment. I wouldn't have believed it was possible that a man like Casey, who had threatened to kill Chuck on a regular basis when he was tasked with protecting him, could be so moved, so emotional about anyone.

But, like I said, Chuck was incredibly special. John Casey had turned from cold school killer to a dear friend…because of Chuck.

I knew at that moment just how special it truly was. I had hope again. Chuck had a reason to have hope. He had people who loved him.

Dreyfus agreed to go with Casey and me to the hospital.

The moment we arrived we knew something was seriously wrong. The nurse at the front desk and the security guard were missing. Casey found them behind the partition, obviously tranq'd.

Casey and I went in guns blazing. Dreyfus stayed behind, letting us take control. I made it to the room first, seeing Kowambe and his men. I managed to fire a few shots before he flung my weapon out of my hand and had to resort to hand to hand combat.

I was able to clobber all three with just my fists and feet. I could feel Casey behind me, but by the time he arrived, no one was a threat any longer.

It was only then that I became aware that Chuck was unconscious on the floor.

Please, don't let us be too late…

I rushed to him, reached under his head and pulled him up so he was resting against a column in the room.

I heard Dreyfus tell Casey it was good that we came.

"You came back for me…" Chuck said. His pupils weren't the same size. He had obviously been drugged. But he was ok. I sighed with relief.

"I'll always come back for you," I said sincerely, my hand pressed against his cheek.

I sat with Chuck while the drugs they gave him slowly wore off. Casey called the cleaners and a team to take Kowambe and his men into custody.

It was late in the evening when Beckman finally made contact and gave Dreyfus the authority to release Chuck from the institution. She said she would explain in the morning, that we should go home and get some sleep.

Chuck didn't feel well after the drugs wore off, so we went right to bed. I realized how badly I'd missed him, even after only a few days apart, though we spent almost all of our time together.

But I understood now why I felt that way, better than I ever had.

True to her word, in the morning, Beckman apologized to Chuck. His dreams were accurate, even though perhaps harder to interpret than a traditional flash. Dr. Kowambe was found to have been conducting experiments with organ harvesting and tissue regeneration with the intention to sell it to the Ring.

She sent Chuck back to Dr. Dreyfus to get him cleared for field duty again.

Chuck went right after our briefing with Beckman and I was waiting for him when he returned.

To be fair, he did come in and immediately wanted to talk to me. He even said it was very important. I know now he had every intention of telling me what Dreyfus had said, about the Intersect putting stress on his brain and the unknown future of his mental state of health.

I, on the other hand, had been psyching myself up the entire time he was gone to tell him what I should have told him so long ago.

I stood, grabbed his hands, and faced him.

"I love you. It shouldn't have taken me this long to say it, but I've never felt this way. Before you, the only future that I could think about was my next mission. And now all I can think about is a future with you. I love you, Chuck."

He smiled, that beautiful smile that I could never get enough of. "I love you, too." We kissed.

He seemed so relieved. I was happy then, not really letting it sink in that he was relieved because he had been doubting, anxious, because I couldn't say it.

I didn't mean to, but I completely derailed the truth he was hoping to tell me. He was still so afraid of something going wrong, of losing me, that he lied again.

He told me the doctor told him everything was fine.

He was so very not fine. As we would soon find out.