Chuck 1. The Worst Movie Night Ever

_A/N – My wife and I watched Love Actually tonight. It's one of her faves and we watch it pretty often. I don't know what in the world made me think of Sarah watching it, but I'm afraid it may mean that I need to be medicated. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little bit of drabble._

_I don't own Love Actually, and I still don't own Chuck. I'd rather own Sarah given the choice, but NBC hasn't offered either one to date. _

--

Sitting alone by the window in an apartment that wasn't really hers, Sarah was gazing out over the lights of Los Angeles as the menu screen of one of her favorite DVDs repeated itself endlessly in the background. The city at night was a tableau that lent itself to philosophizing, and Sarah was indulging herself, meditating on a profound truth that she discovered in a movie, of all things.

Everyone wants to fall in love.

It's the way we're built. No one is immune, not even super-duper killer government spies.

Even Casey, who pretends to be the hardest case since Samsonite, has felt the sting. All it takes is one mention of Ilsa, and a haunted, faraway look fogs his eyes, and he retreats to his recliner and nurses the same glass of scotch for hours.

Sarah can relate.

--

She'd been feeling miserable today. Work at the Orange Orange stunk as usual, there was no mission to distract her, Casey was being his usual loner self, and Chuck was out with Morgan watching the latest in the endless string of movies adapted from comic books. And of course, Sarah had no friends to spend time with. So she turned to her crutch, the one outlet she had for all of the emotions she kept bottled up.

A good old fashioned sappy movie.

She literally had boxes of DVDs back at her Washington apartment, kept out of sight on the floor of her huge bedroom closet, all variations on the same theme. There were no action movies, no buddy cop flicks, no tearjerking dramas. And God forbid that James Bond or Jason Bourne show up on her TV – she got her fill of that (and then some) in real life. No, every single one of those movies was a sappy Hollywood romance, each complete with the happy ending only celluloid can deliver. She had enough of them to watch a different one every night for months without having to repeat, which would be wonderful if she were ever home for more than a few days or weeks at a time.

But she wasn't. And since boxes of DVDs are a little bulky for a spy to be toting around the world, she had to rely on the local video stores for the very few times like tonight, when she actually had time to watch a movie while on assignment. She had called in an order for her favorite curry chicken as she left the Orange Orange, and headed over to the Blockbuster for the requisite ten to fifteen minute wait for her order. She had thought that she'd be pressed for time, because she usually liked to wander up and down every aisle, carefully considering all the possibilities. But there was no need for worry, because she rounded the first aisle and came face to face with one of her favorites, and it practically flew off the shelf into her hands.

Love Actually.

Sarah was still puzzled as to why she liked this movie so much. It was both newer and British, neither of which was really her speed. She tended towards classic Hollywood, Tracy and Hepburn being her all-time favorites, a preference inherited from her mom. But there was just something about Love Actually that got to her, its interweaving stories showing the highs and lows of love, and it had worked its way into a permanent spot in her rotation of favorites. Knowing her search was over, she went to the register and paid, then picked up her curry chicken and headed home to settle in for the night.

--

Three hours later, the chicken was eaten, the movie was over, and the better part of an entire box of tissues was wadded up on the floor next to the bed. This movie had always gotten to Sarah, but never before on this level. She was a mess. And she knew why.

This was the first time she'd watched it since she met Chuck. And instead of just being able to sit back and watch the lives and loves of fictional strangers, she was seeing parallel after parallel of her relationship with him.

She saw Chuck in Colin Firth's character Jamie. Awkward and sweet, hurting from a previous betrayal, but still able to believe enough in love to take a chance on a girl from a different world, still willing to make the big gesture and lay everything on the line. But unfortunately she didn't see herself in Jamie's Portuguese love Aurelia. Instead she saw herself in Laura Linney, whose character, ironically named Sarah, is never able to tell the man she loves how she feels about him. And on the night when she finally gets her chance with him, just as they are about to make love, her cell phone rings and she pulls away from him to answer it, and he knows that he will never come first for her. For Laura Linney's character it was her sick brother calling, but for Sarah Walker it would be Graham, or Casey, and she would pull away from Chuck to answer it just as Laura Linney's character had. And Chuck would know that he had once again come in second to the CIA.

What depressed her most, however, wasn't so much the parallels that she did see, but the ones that she didn't. There were a lot of happy endings in Love Actually, but she couldn't see herself in any of them. And that made her wonder if a happy ending was possible for her in real life. Would she know when to walk away from the CIA, and would she be able? Would she wind up another agency burnout like Roan Montgomery, only able to face the day with the help of a seven martini breakfast? Or would she not wind up as anything at all, pushing her luck too far on some mission only to find that it had run out?

Agents try very hard not to get themselves into these contemplative moods, because they make all too clear some things that are best not pondered, and that's the first step towards burnout. It's not the stress or the danger that causes agents to crack, although those things certainly don't help. No, it's because they are shutting themselves off from everyone, repressing the most basic of human desires, the one thing most capable of making us feel complete and happy.

Companionship. Friends. And of course, the ultimate expression of companionship, love. All things that a successful agent couldn't allow, especially love. But the more Sarah was around Chuck and his family, the more she wanted all of those things she couldn't have. She wanted love, the same as every character in that damned movie. She dug her way out of the mountain of tissues around the bed and sat by the window, looking out at the city to try to clear her head. It didn't work. As she contemplated the rock on one side of her and the hard place on the other, her cell phone rang. She didn't need to check the display to know who was calling.

"Hi, Chuck. Are you and Morgan having a good time?"

Chuck's reply was enthusiastic even for him. "Absolutely! The movie was great! Morgan had a few quibbles about the character not being true to the comic, but I think I was able to convince him how WRONG HE WAS!" Sarah could hear Morgan still disagreeing in the background; it seemed Chuck hadn't convinced him of any such thing. "We're gonna grab some pizza and head back to my place for some late night Call of Duty action. How was your night?"

"Oh, fine. Just grabbed some Chinese and stayed in. Watched a movie. It was actually nice to relax some."

She must have sounded less than convincing, because Chuck wasn't buying it. "Sarah, is everything okay? You sound a little down."

Normally Sarah likes that Chuck can read her moods so well, but it's a little inconvenient tonight. "I'm fine, Chuck. Just a long day, that's all."

"Do you want me to come over? Morgan and I have gotten in some excellent quality time tonight; he won't mind if I have to cut things a bit short."

Sarah was silent for a moment. She knew which answer she wanted to give, but she also knew what would happen if she gave it, especially given the state she was in. If he came over tonight, if he flashed that million megawatt smile at her the second she opened the door, she would throw away everything she'd worked so hard for and jump into his arms. And even though there was a small but very vocal part of her insisting that she should do just that, the bigger part of her was not ready to make that leap, at least not yet. Even so, it took every last bit of resolve she possessed to give Chuck the answer she knew she must give.

"No, Chuck. You stay with Morgan. I appreciate the offer, but you two don't get to hang out nearly enough and I hate to end your evening just because I had a bad day. Go get your pizza and play your game. We'll do lunch tomorrow instead, okay?"

"Sure. Tell you what – let's go to the Wienerlicious for old times' sake. I don't think I've been getting my recommended daily allowance of nitrates since you left that place."

Sarah smiled. Chuck could always make her smile, even tonight. "It's a date. Noon?"

"Noon it is. Get some sleep now. I'm warning you, if your mood hasn't improved by lunch tomorrow, I'll be forced to take drastic measures. Not to give anything away, but tickling may be involved. Goodnight, Sarah. I love you."

"Goodnight, Chuck."

I love you, too.

Sarah knew that Chuck had said that he loved her because Morgan had been listening, but it pierced her heart like an arrow nonetheless. Feeling more alone than she ever had in her life, she crossed back over to her bed and sat down heavily. She stared at the TV for a moment, and as the DVD menu looped yet again she felt herself missing Chuck so much that it hurt. She reached over to her nightstand for the remote, and a solitary tear fell onto her hand as she pressed play.


	2. Coffee, Doughnuts, and Soft Core Porn

A very loud buzzing sound filled the room, hours too late to fulfill its purpose. Sarah had spent the better part of the night tossing and turning, never really achieving anything that could rightfully be called sleep, and she was officially beyond exhausted. She had watched that stupid movie a total of three times last night, and she was amazed that she had neither died of severe dehydration nor suffocated under the mountain of tissues next to her bed. She had been about to start the movie for the fourth time when a moment of sanity broke through the fog and she'd turned it off instead, planning on salvaging what she could of a night's sleep.

Yeah, well, so much for that brilliant idea.

Why did she rent that movie, anyway? Already in a down mood after a boring and lonely day at work and facing the prospect of a lonely night without a mission or company (she wouldn't let herself admit that the only company she really wanted was Chuck), she should have known better than to rent a sappy romance. She should have just eaten a quick dinner, maybe had a stiff drink or two, and hit the sack. But no, she had to fall back on her crutch, which promptly hit her right between the eyes. For the better part of nine hours she watched that movie, thinking about Chuck, Bryce, and others, about spending her life being lonely in strange places, about what if anything her future held. And now it was eight in the morning, she was depressed enough to consider medication, and the only reason that damned alarm hadn't been speared to the wall like its predecessor was that it had been a gift from Chuck.

Sarah was trying for the thousandth time to talk herself into actually getting up to turn off said alarm when there was a knock at her door. Who the hell? Probably Casey, she thought with irritation, here about some stupid minor emergency that's come up or just upset that she hadn't checked in with him last night. Like she was a teenager out after curfew or something. Hmmph. Well, let's get this show over with, she thought. She crawled out of bed and headed for the door, then caught her reflection. There _was_ a guy she'd like to see her in these particular pajamas, but that guy wasn't Casey. She slung her robe around her, not even bothering to tie it because Casey was going to be here all of ten seconds before walking away in a huff, his ears still ringing. Her exhaustion and irritation were such that she didn't even look through the peephole before throwing open the door, but her angry invective died on her lips as she found herself face to face with Chuck.

And he was holding a fresh box of – God love him – Krispy Kreme doughnuts.

All of a sudden, that damned movie was in her head again as she stared at him. He really was like Jamie, she thought - making the grand gesture, showing up at her door because he thought that she needed him. And in that, he was completely correct. Just seeing his million megawatt smile made the clouds part and Sarah's world was no longer gray and gloomy.

Good God, this guy was more dangerous to her than any terrorist could ever dream of being.

For his part, Chuck completely misinterpreted the angry look on Sarah's face when she'd opened the door. Fearing that she was about to lecture him yet again for his impetuous behavior, Chuck immediately launched into an obviously rehearsed explanation. "I know we agreed on lunch, but I was in more of a breakfast mood. And I know we agreed on Wienerlicious, but Krispy Kreme had the "Now Glazing" sign on, and I figure that the trans fat we gain here will make up for the nitrates we're losing from the corn dogs. Seems like an even trade on the 'Things That Are Bad For You' scale. I didn't want to spill coffee all over the car, though, so we'll have to make some here. After all, every hotel room has a coffee maker, right? However, I don't see one here in the hall, so it must be inside. I'll gladly come in and look around for it if you'll take two steps back."

Sarah looked at him intently for another moment, then managed a weak smile as she stepped aside. His speech over and apparently successful, Chuck finally took a good look at Sarah as he entered, and his grin dissolved into a look of puzzlement mixed with worry. "Wow, Sarah. Don't get mad or anything, but you look, um, well...let's just say I've seen you look better. Either you had a worse night than you let on, or most of your retirement is tied up in bank stocks."

Sarah's weak smile turned into a weak chuckle. "Like I said last night on the phone, yesterday was just a long, crappy day."

Chuck's smile turned sympathetic. "Well, these will definitely make you feel better. Warm Krispy Kremes can cure anything short of terminal cancer, and frankly I think that more testing needs to be done before that's ruled out. I'll leave the box on the table here so you can get started, and I'll go get the coffee brewing. I'm guessing it's in your little bath/lounge area over here?"

Sarah barely nodded as Chuck left the room. She was looking at the box of doughnuts, thinking of another time and place entirely. She was in pajamas, but unlike the lacy black ones she was currently wearing, these had little pink feet. She had woken up when she heard the front door open, like she did most mornings when her dad worked the night shift at the plant. He always stopped at Nicholas Bakery on his way home, when the doughnuts were fresh from the fryer, and he made sure every time to get two of her favorite glazed rings. Her still sleeping brother liked the gooey ones, all full of jelly or pudding or whipped cream, but she preferred the simple rings, just good yeasty dough and sugary glaze melting on her fingers. Daddy always had one out of the box and ready for her when she came bounding into the kitchen, and they sat and ate together, Daddy with a tired smile on his face as she jabbered on about anything at all. When he died of the heart attack a couple of years later they'd partly blamed his diet, but she always knew that it couldn't have been the doughnuts.

She came back to the present and turned to watch Chuck puttering around making them coffee. He reminded her so much of her dad. It wasn't a physical resemblance; they looked nothing alike. It was more of a feeling, a sense that they would both love her no matter what, that they would do anything to keep her safe and happy. After all, that was why Chuck was here this morning, wasn't it? She'd been upset last night, he'd picked up on it during their very brief phone conversation, and here he was at eight in the morning, smiling brighter than the sun and holding a box full of warm memories.

How does he do these things? Is there a file in the Intersect on how to make me melt like a Popsicle in July? Sarah knew that thought wasn't rational, but God, the way he affected her...he always seemed to know exactly what to say or do. He'd told her that they could never be, that he wanted something normal, but does a man keep doing things like this if he doesn't want you? She might not be sure what Chuck wanted; maybe he wasn't sure either. But she did know what she wanted, and she wanted it more every day. For the moment Sarah still had enough strength to keep from throwing herself at him, but it was getting to be a mighty close thing.

Fortunately, she had a box of fresh Krispy Kreme glazed doughnuts to distract her from her thoughts of tackling Chuck. Sarah fell upon them like a starving woman, knowing full well that this was a case of sublimation at its most obvious but not caring a bit. She grabbed one for each hand, the still warm icing sticking to her fingers, and ate with abandon. Her robe, casually held closed earlier, had drifted open to reveal her skimpy black pajamas, and she stood in the middle of the room, eyes closed in sugar-induced bliss, making little yummy noises while she slowly and lovingly licked every bit of the icing off of her fingers. She snapped out of her reverie, however, when her spy senses told her that she was being watched. She opened her eyes...

...to see Chuck leaning against the door frame, staring at her in slack-jawed wonder. "You know what I said earlier about having seen you look better? Well, just forget that, because God help me, that might be the sexiest thing I have ever seen in my life."

Sarah couldn't help biting her bottom lip before giving Chuck an evil little grin. "If you think this is hot, just wait 'til I lick the icing off of YOUR fingers."

Chuck shuddered visibly. "Aaaand on that note, I think I need to sit down. Quickly."

Sarah laughed and grabbed the box of doughnuts. "Here, try a couple of these. I have it on good authority that they'll fix any problem."

"I don't think that even Krispy Kremes can save me now, but I'll take one anyway. You go get the coffee, but for God's sake have some pity on me and _close your robe_ first!"

"Well, if you say so..." Sarah took her time tying the sash of her robe, pretending to struggle with the simplest half-knot and trying not to laugh at Chuck's groans of mock suffering. She finally fetched them each a cup of coffee and came back over to the bed, where Chuck had kicked off his shoes and made himself at home. He was halfway through what appeared to be his third doughnut when he noticed the DVD case on the nightstand and picked it up for a look.

"Love Actually, huh? This is one of Ellie's favorites. I can't count the number of times she forced Devon to watch this last Christmas. Total chick flick, although I admit that the old burned out rock star guy was pretty hilarious. I've gotta say, though - I wouldn't have pegged _you_ for this one."

Sarah considered her reply for a second before deciding yet again that Chuck couldn't know the truth. "Well, I like Hugh Grant and I thought I'd give it a shot. You're right, it's a total chick flick." And although I can wipe out a roomful of armed bad guys with a toothpick, I am still a chick, and a very lonely one at that. I watched that chick flick for nine straight hours and spent the whole time wishing you were here with me. But I'm not ready to admit that to you. Not yet.

She shifted gears. "Scoot over and give a girl some room. It is _my_ bed, after all. And don't go hogging all the doughnuts!"

Chuck looked indignant. "I would never dream of coming between a girl and her sweets, even if I did buy them. Now give me my coffee and sit down already."

They spent the next little while making small talk, drinking coffee, and munching the rest of the doughnuts, with Sarah even going so far as deliberately scooping up the pooled icing in the bottom of the box with her fingers. Chuck made an exaggerated show of looking the other way while she licked her fingers clean again, claiming that one 'very soft core porn show' was quite enough for him this morning, thank you very much. Sarah punched him on the shoulder, getting what remained of the icing on his shirt in the process.

"So, you must have kicked Morgan out early last night in order to get over here this early. Was he peeved at me for ruining his evening with you?"

"Actually...." Chuck let the word hang, a sheepish look on his face. Sarah got the point at once.

"Chuck! You came over here after an all-night game fest with Morgan? You have to be absolutely exhausted."

"Well, no more than you are, from the look of things." She saw him steal a quick glance down at the huge pile of wadded up tissues next to the bed, but he said nothing about them. "I just guessed that you could use some company, that's all."

Sarah tossed the now empty Krispy Kreme box onto the floor and scooted closer to Chuck. Full and happy, she rested her head on his chest. Exhaustion was starting to overcome her, causing her to be a little more truthful than she otherwise would have been. She let slip the very thing she'd been trying to keep in all morning.

"I don't need company, Chuck. I need you."

Chuck's breath caught in his throat. He'd wanted to hear her say that for so long now, but even so he wasn't ready for it. It cut through all his defenses, and he knew that he was still hopelessly in love with her, despite his little speech by the fountain not so long ago. She still wasn't normal; she never would be. But he knew now that that made no difference to him. And truth be told, after this last year he wasn't so normal anymore, either. If he found out that she was in Paraguay quelling a revolution with a fork, he'd probably fly down to see if she needed a spoon.

As long as it meant being with her.

He was trying to figure out how to put all this into words when he heard the soft snoring coming from the general vicinity of his shirt. Super secret agent Sarah Walker was out cold.

Probably for the best, Chuck thought. Later, when they were no longer sleep deprived, he might decide not to retract his breakup speech. She might not remember, let alone admit to, her declaration of need.

But for now, as he felt himself drifting off to join her in sleep, none of that mattered.

For now, he knew how she felt. And it was enough.


	3. Rising and Falling

**A/N**– _Okay, so it's been forever since I posted, well, anything. But Love Actually was on cable tonight, and that added to tomorrow being Valentine's Day equals an update. No Beta reading was done, so all mistakes are mine. You don't have to read the preceding chapters first, but this will make a lot more sense if you do. Usual disclaimers apply. Enjoy, and Happy V-Day to all!_

_Just a reminder, this is set right after "Chuck vs the Break Up", so the Sarah backstory here is very AU. Gary Cole hadn't yet dropped by when I wrote chapter 2, you see, and here in chapter 3 I just kept going with what I'd written...  
_

**********************************************************************

Chapter 3 - Rising and Falling

Sarah's head was laying on Chuck's chest, rising and falling with his every breath. He was sleeping soundly, a little smile on his face that was due both to a belly full of warm donuts and, she hoped, the company. He'd been out for an hour and a half, and he didn't show any signs of waking soon.

Sarah, on the other hand, wasn't resting quite so well. She was every bit as exhausted as Chuck, both of them having been up all night, but every time she drifted off her subconscious went into overdrive. It had been happening a lot lately. Agents often had funky dreams; they repressed a lot in order to do their jobs, and the Company shrinks said that all the bottled up stuff had to come out somehow. Her recent dreams were different, though. They weren't of being captured, or of the faces of the people she'd killed, or any of those cliches.

They weren't about the job. They were personal. And that was a hell of a lot scarier.

A sleep deprived mind does funny things. She slid in and out of consciousness, carrying thoughts and scenes back and forth between dreams and wakefulness, turning them over in her mind.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was like her parents had each gotten their own. Oh, sure, Dad loved Robbie, just the same as Mom loved her. There was no doubt about that. And the really funny thing was that she looked incredibly like her mom Lucy, but to see any of her dad in her, well, one had to use a little imagination. But that was just the wrapper. On the inside, she was Jake's girl top to bottom. They'd been like peas and carrots since the day she was born.

The lake was at a full boil that morning, the water having been whipped into a frenzy by last night's storm. Their little boat had gamely chugged its way through the water, rising and falling with the waves as they went from spot to spot, searching for that one magic place where every fish in the lake was lining up to snack on a juicy worm. They hadn't caught anything yet, but that hadn't stopped them from having a great time, and thanks to the fisherman's perpetual optimism they were both certain that the next spot they tried would be _the one_.

"You about ready for some grub, Punkin?" She nodded vigorously that she was indeed. They ate the same lunch every time they went out on the lake – thick sliced bologna on Wonder bread (yellow mustard on both slices, of course), a big bag of crunchy Cheetos, Capri Sun fruit punch for her, and a mostly cold Bud for Dad, all packed by Mom in the battered blue cooler that Dad had owned since the beginning of time. It held just enough for the two of them, which was perfect because no one else ever came. Mom's sole contribution was the lunch, and Robbie was of the opinion that picking his own navel lint was more exciting than fishing. Dad always invited both of them, but he knew full well what answer he'd get. And really, if he'd thought that the answer might be something different, he probably wouldn't have asked the question. Fishin' time was for him and his Punkin _only_.

Once they finished their lunch, Dad fired up the motor and they resumed the search, hopping once again around the lake. This day, like most of their fishing days, would produce very little in the way of fish, but neither one of them cared because they would still manage as always to have a whale of a time. It was more about the company than the fishing, Dad would say. They had spent so many Saturdays like this when she was little, and each time she'd come home swearing that it had been the best day of her life.

_* * * * * * * * * *_

It rained that entire day, and all she could think was that Dad would have been out on the lake. She could hear his voice. "Great fishing when it rains, Punkin. Like a holiday for fish." She could never tell that he caught any more when it rained, but it was another excuse to get out on the lake, and other than fussing at him about catching a cold Mom never begrudged him.

If she closed her eyes tightly enough, she thought that maybe she could pretend that he was out on the lake right now, and not inside of that box.

The whole town had turned out for Jake's funeral, or near enough to it so as not to matter. Half of Belleville worked at the plant, and between that and their church and the ball teams he coached and the million other things he did, there wasn't anyone around who wouldn't miss her dad at least a little bit. They all paid their condolences to the family, most of them telling some little story of how Jake had touched their lives. Sarah thought that she might have been able to find solace in their honest affection but for the fact that she was hearing their stories about thirty or forty years too soon.

There were more nice words and flowers and singing, but none of it helped. It all seemed so..._useless_, and she just let it flow over her and be washed away by the rain. The ground seemed to rise and fall beneath her feet as she walked away from his grave. She knew that the biggest part of her heart was still out on the lake with Dad, and she felt like it might never come back.

* * * * * * * * * *

Home was a lonely place for her after Dad died. Mom and Robbie had had each other as always, but she felt adrift, and it was frustrating for all of them. She could see Mom and especially Robbie trying extra hard to cheer her up, to make her feel loved and included. But despite the best of intentions, their efforts always seemed cloying and somehow artificial, like too much saccharine in a glass of iced tea. It wasn't their fault; they just didn't know how to reach her. Dad had always been the one to do that.

She threw herself into her activities to try to find some comfort, pushing herself further and working harder than ever. The accolades came one after another during her final year of high school – All-State in softball and basketball, Valedictorian, college scholarships too numerous to count – but she didn't find happiness in any of them. When she graduated, she accepted a full ride at the furthest school from home to offer one, and she didn't look back as she drove away that August. If she had, she would have seen Mom and Robbie standing in the driveway, hugging each other and crying.

She drove on, the miles falling away behind her, leaving what remained of her family behind.

* * * * * * * * * *

College was no better.

It could have been, though. It was a small school, small enough that everyone knew when someone like her showed up. She was beautiful and smart, with academic and athletic scholarships under her belt. Every sorority on campus rushed her hard, and every fraternity guy did the same, if for slightly different reasons. She was the "It" girl, the Flavor of the Month, and all she had to do was pick what she wanted.

The problem was that she didn't want any of it.

It still hadn't been that long since Dad had died, and she just wasn't ready to let go of the anger and hurt. She was withdrawn and quiet, sitting in the backs of rooms and keeping to herself, relying on her natural intelligence for getting good marks without much effort. She dated a fair amount of guys, but never more than once or twice, and she didn't make many girl friends because they mistook her aloofness for arrogance. Even basketball, which she used to love, had lost its joy, and after fighting her way through a lackluster freshman season she told the coach that she wouldn't be playing the following year. He didn't try very hard to change her mind.

Then Graham came into the picture. He'd been tipped off by one of her teachers, who just happened to be this school's version of Fleming at Stanford, a "talent spotter" for the Agency. Being a small school a freshman of her qualities would have been looked at as a matter of routine, but the teacher saw a potential diamond. She had all the tools; she just needed _focus_. And if there was one thing that Graham was good at providing, it was focus.

She was recruited, and it wasn't a hard sell. She was still looking for anything other than what she had, and this was something she could dedicate herself to, or more precisely, lose herself in. She could pack up her former life in a big box and bury it. She attacked her training with a relish that she hadn't felt since Daddy died, and it felt wonderful to be doing something again. And my oh my, was her teacher right. She was a diamond.

And so, even though she hadn't yet taken the name, Sarah Walker was born.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sarah might have gone with Bryce if it hadn't been for that kiss on the docks.

It would have been easier. Probably smarter, too. She and Bryce worked very well together, and they did other things very well together, too. Hunting down Fulcrum with Bryce would have been exciting and dangerous, and she wouldn't be stuck behind a counter serving yogurt to teenage boys who couldn't keep their eyes above her neck. Going with Bryce would have been the smart play, and she'd even gone so far as to pack her bags.

But that kiss...damn.

The world had been about to end, and Chuck wouldn't leave her. They fought, and she'd been so angry and frustrated and scared that she'd even stupidly pulled her gun on him. But he still wouldn't leave her. And as the last seconds of her life had ticked away, there was suddenly nothing in the world but him, and she kissed him.

No one to blame but herself. _She_ kissed _him_. It was passionate and frantic and desperate, but it had also been more. It had been...well, she didn't exactly know. But it had been something, something different and wonderful. Something that hadn't ever been there with Bryce, or with anyone else, for that matter. And she supposed she was still here because she very much wanted to find out just what that something was.

* * * * * * * * * *

"It's just not worth it."

Colt's words hammered in Sarah's ears as she watched his huge hands release their grip on Chuck's ankles. Chuck seemed to hang suspended in midair for the tiniest fraction of a second, and Sarah waited for him to right himself and walk back onto the roof, defying gravity like Bugs Bunny did in the old cartoons that he loved so much. But he didn't.

He fell.

Oh, God, no.

He had asked her out the day before. For real. An actual date, no agent and asset nonsense. He'd walked in to the Orange Orange, strode right up to the counter, and for a second he'd almost lost his nerve.

Almost. But he hadn't. He'd asked her out, and despite knowing that, new intersect or not, it was still a bad idea, her voice had become suddenly shy as she'd said yes. That night, leaning across the table for a kiss that she desperately wanted, the spy world intruded again as they'd been surrounded by Colt's operatives. Casey got them out of that mess, but less than twenty four hours later found them on this roof (they had terrible luck with roofs – Sarah had made a mental note to keep Chuck on the ground in the future) with Chuck dangling upside down over the street. And then Colt had decided that he'd had enough aggravation from "Agent Carmichael", and gave him up to gravity.

Sarah had screamed as Chuck disappeared from her sight, but she wouldn't remember that later.

She would only remember the feel of her blood rising, clouding both her vision and her reason, leaving her with only one crystal clear thought.

I will kill this mountain of a man if it's the last thing I ever do.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sarah jerked back to full consciousness with her heart racing. She looked up to see if Chuck had noticed, but his soft snores gave her the answer she wanted; he was still out cold. She kept her eyes focused on him as she tried to grab hold of the threads of her semiconscious musings, fixing them in her mind before they melted away in the soft sunlight of mid-morning.

This is all about him, she thinks. He's like Dad. He makes her feel safe and loved, and that lowers the guard that she's so carefully built up over her years in the CIA. It's like he's opened a floodgate that she closed off long ago, and things long held in are spilling out. She hardly ever thought about her family before she met him; not out of coldness, but out of self-protection. But there's something about him that makes her face these things now, and she feels like she's finally trying to put together the pieces of a complicated puzzle that have been scattered in her mind. The picture is maddeningly slow in revealing itself, but she thinks that she might very much like the completed image if she has the patience – and the courage - to work it through.

* * * * * * * * * *

Minutes pass, and Sarah is still lost in thought as she watches Chuck sleep. He turns his head slightly, and Sarah's eye is caught by something shiny on his right cheek. She stares at it in puzzlement for a moment, but she has to hold back a laugh once she realizes what it is.

Icing.

Sarah felt like the universe was conspiring against her. _I have a hard enough time behaving myself around Chuck as it is, but there's no way on earth I can resist him when he's frosted_. She rises up as quietly as she is able and tenderly kisses the spot, but the icing has dried, and she needs a little more moisture. Her eyes flutter as she runs her tongue lightly across his cheek, and for just a moment she considers moving two inches to her right to see if there happens to be any icing on his lips. She pulls away only with great effort, and she settles for laying her head back down on his chest and snuggling into him even tighter. She clears her mind by focusing once again on the steady rise and fall of her head on his chest as he breathes, and within minutes she is finally asleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

He had felt her warm breath on his cheek, and when her tongue followed, it had taken reserves of self control that Chuck didn't know he possessed not to pull her into a deep kiss. He knew that she had thought he was asleep, and therefore she'd thought she was safe. He was certain that if he'd forced the issue she would have withdrawn from him again, and he didn't want that. Better to give up the small short term gain in order to win the ultimate prize. He had to let her come to him. It wouldn't be easy, but she was worth the wait.

He still had a lot to learn about Sarah Walker, but that much he knew for sure.


End file.
