A/N: A brief explanation of the title for any readers not familiar with American football. A "Hail Mary" is when the quarterback throws the ball way downfield with the plan that, by the time the ball arrives back at ground level, the receiver will be there to catch it. He throws and expects...hopes...prays ("Hail Mary") that the receiver makes it there at exactly the right time. Once the ball leaves his hand, he loses all control over the play and waits, like everyone else, to see if it works. It is a high risk/high reward play. When it works out, the quarterback and the receiver are seen as heroes. When it doesn't, they are seen as reckless. As with any high risk play, it fails more often than it succeeds. In American English it has come to colloquially refer to any long-shot gamble with a high reward.

In my opinion, bringing Sarah to the red door house in the hopes that it would reverse her memory loss was a Hail Mary play by Chuck. And it failed. She didn't remember, took the glasses, beat the crap out of him, and was about to kill him when she (fortuitously) saw the carving.

What if he had more modest, less ambitious goals? Something less than a full-blown Hail Mary?

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Sarah slowly opened her eyes and focused on Bartowski. She was in an empty room and bound to a chair at her wrists. He leaned forward slightly and said, in a soft, serious tone, "Hi."

She shifted around in her seat, testing the strength of her bonds. He continued, "You were in a car accident and got knocked out. I have some painkillers and an ice pack for you. You took a pretty good bang." She looked at the folding table near his elbow and saw a small bottle of pills, a bottle of water and an instant icepack. She shook her head, no.

"OK, if you change your mind just speak up," he continued. "Look, I know you don't remember me, but we really need to talk."

"I have nothing to say to you." She had been tortured before and was certain she could handle it again. She had learned to ride the pain into unconsciousness, if need be.

Gently, he said, "Yeah, that may be, but please listen." He smiled slightly, "It can't hurt to listen, especially after all this time together."

"Our relationship was a cover, Bartowski. It always has been. You were just an assignment.

"Right. I know. I know that's what you think. See, I sort of figured that out in the intersect room you blew up. When you told me that we wouldn't hurt anyone else with the Intersect. When you told me that Quinn had explained everything to you. So here's the deal, Sarah. I'm not going to tell you Quinn is a liar and try to convince you that I'm telling you the truth. I'm going to try something different. I'm going to tell you what's happened to you since you lost your memory. I'm making guesses here, but most of them are pretty good guesses, I think. Please jump in at any time to help me, OK? Let's see how I do."

She scoffed, "This is nonsense, Bartowski. Don't think it will stop me from killing you when I get out of these ties."

"Yeah, OK. So let's see," he seemed completely unfazed by her threat. He continued to speak in a calm, soft, even tone of voice. "Sorry about the ties, by the way. But I didn't want you to kick my ass while we were talking. Anyway, here goes. Sometime in the last few days you woke up. Things felt weird, disjointed. You were confused. You couldn't remember how you got where you were. It wasn't a hospital or medical facility. Maybe a safe house, maybe a hotel. But for sure, not a location you were familiar with. Not your apartment in DC. Not Langley, or Camp Peary, or any CIA facility you knew."

She looked away from him and concentrated on keeping her game face on. He was not going to rattle her so easily.

He continued. "Soon after you woke up, you met Nicholas Quinn. He showed you his CIA credentials. You don't remember him though. He's a brand new face. But he tells you he's CIA and he knows you are CIA, so that's good right? He says he's your handler. But there was nobody there you recognized. I don't know how many men Quinn had with him, but you didn't remember any of them. Not a one."

He had her attention and he knew it. He rolled with that. "So, Sarah, what did he tell you? What did he tell you about your memory?" She sat silently. "OK, my guess is he told you you had been in an accident and lost your memory. Your memory of the last five years of your life. Now, here's the truth, Sarah," his voice cracked and his eyes, which had been brimming with tears let them spill, "you did lose those five years of memories." He took a deep breath and rubbed his hand over his face. "

"Now please think about that, Sarah. Because I have. You are the smartest person I know. Bar none. Ellie … she's okay, by the way, she was wearing her seat belt…Ellie has an MD and PhD and I still think you are the smartest. Think about it, Sarah. If you had an accident, wouldn't you remember everything after the accident? But you don't. You don't remember any doctors or hospitals after your accident. No tests. No doctors. No CAT scans or MRI's. No X-rays. No medical procedures that you can remember. No nothing. Why? Why did the memories between the accident and waking up disappear? Where'd they go?"

She had done her best not to let him rattle her and failed. He made sense. Where were those memories? Why didn't she remember any doctors? A slight frown creased her forehead. His calm soft voice was confusing her.

"And then let's think about the plan, Quinn's plan. He told you that you had been undercover for five years and it was essential to send you back in, even with no memories. Send an agent back undercover without memories of the previous five years? Really? That's not a just stupid plan…that's insane," for the first time, his voice rose with vehemence. "I can think of hundreds of ways that would fall apart, including the way it did. Who would ever suggest that? You might as well ask the agent to kill herself. I knew right away that something was wrong."

Sarah thought, actually, he's right. When he puts it that way, it is a stupid plan.

"Anyway, Quinn was going to send you back undercover. Where were you going undercover? To me. He told you that for the last five years I was your assignment. That you played me like a mark, we got married, we slept in the same bed, we made love…" He had to stop again and regain his composure, the tears still streaming down his cheeks. "Sorry, sweetie, I just …"

"This is real," Sarah said. "You really do love me? …. I'm sorry... I did my job too well."

He let out a deep breath and continued, "Humm. Yeah. Anyway, he told you that you had to continue your CIA assignment to take down, what were we? Terrorists? Rogue spies? Whatever, doesn't matter. Bad guys. And you just took his word for it. A man you'd never met before in a location you'd never been to before. No confirmation from any other source. Just him, telling you a story."

"You're wrong, Bartowski. There were video logs of me making reports. He showed me my own log. Me, from 5 years ago, explaining my mission, explaining that you were my target. Doesn't get more solid confirmation than that."

"Video logs? I didn't…OK. Makes sense. Ok. Yeah, he showed you the first one. Maybe the second. Probably not the third and definitely not the fourth. You see, you were assigned to me by Graham.."

"Who you killed," interrupted Sarah.

"No, who Quinn says I killed. Anyway, Graham assigned you to find out why Bryce had sent me an email. Beckman assigned Casey for the same reason. By the end of the first day we were working together. Quinn couldn't have shown more than the first log or two. After that we were a team. Your log would have reflected that."

Now she really was rattled. He really was describing what had, in fact, happened. "OK,: he began again, "now let's summarize. You wake up in a location you don't recognize, are approached by a man you don't recognize who tells you you have lost five years of your memories and gives you a crappy explanation as to how and why. He's sending you out into the field against a really bad man who killed the Director of the CIA and thinks you are his wife. The only confirmation of any kind is a log entry or two from five years ago where you tell yourself you have to look into this Bartowski guy. That about sum it up? Did I miss anything?"

"I…I…," she didn't know what to say. Her mind was reeling.

Chuck thought, ok, time to bring out the big guns. "Sarah, I hate to say it, and I know it will upset you to hear this, but Jack Burton's little girl got conned."

Her head snapped up and her eyes went wide. Shock gripped her hard. He knows about my dad? He knows about my childhood? He knows about the cons? What the hell? She would never in a million years tell a mark any of that information.

Chuck continued, "Yeah. I know about your dad. He calls me 'schnook'. But that's not so bad, he calls Casey 'cop-face'" Despite herself, Sarah had to bite back a laugh. It sure does sound like her dad. "Sarah," Chuck reached out and lightly touched the back of her hand, "your dad paid for our wedding." Seeing the look on her face, he said, "No, he really did. You remember that big pink piggy bank you gave him as a kid? Well he never took a penny out, but kept putting money in. He gave it to you to pay for the wedding. You keep it on a high shelf in the closet in our bedroom. I'm surprised you didn't find it when you were searching the apartment for the Intersect."

Her face softened noticeably.

He held up his phone, and said, "I can't actually call him, because I don't know his number. But if you want to talk about our wedding, why don't we call Carina, she was one of your bridesmaids. Let's ask her if I was just an assignment or if you really fell in love with me. Or Zondra? Oh, yeah…Amy was the mole and Zondra was innocent. We figured it out and Amy's now in a federal pen. Zondra was also a bridesmaid. She can tell you. I spoke to them both yesterday. They were worried sick since Quinn kidnapped you."

"He kidnapped me?"

"Yeah, the last time you saw him you threw him out a window of a speeding bullet train in Japan. He survived, sonofabitch has nine lives, and turned the tables on us. He got you into one train car with Casey and me in the next. Then he separated the cars of the train, leaving us behind. The next time we saw you, you had come back to us under his command."

"Anyway, your friends and dad will vouch for me and what I'm telling you. But you should really talk to your mom."

ohgodohgodohgod

She bucked in her chair as if she had received an electric shock. "You know…"

"Sure, Sarah," in the same soft voice. "I know about your mom…and Molly. Don't worry. They are safe. Ryker is dead. He found out about Molly and came for her. But he underestimated you. You see, when he knew you you always worked solo. His plans depended on that. He didn't count on the fact that you now had a team – Morgan, Casey and me – to back you up no matter what. A team that had your back. Your mom and sister are safe, sweetie. No one will hurt them. I think your mom likes me," he gave her a lopsided grin. "Molly too. I know she likes Morgan. He lets her win at video games. At least I think he's letting her win. Maybe she's just beating him." Again, with the lopsided grin.

Her head was spinning. She believed him. She had tried to kill him. Threatened his sister. Her mind was truly blown. Could this really be real? Could this be her husband…for real? This was her life?

"Sarah, Quinn is a bad guy and we have to stop him. If you don't believe me yet, I'll put General Beckman on the phone. Surely, you would trust her over that…"

"Watch what you say, Bartowski," said Quinn from the door to the room, his pistol pointed toward them, "you might hurt my feelings."

Chuck stood up, his body covering Sarah as he stood, keeping both hands behind him. "Given half a chance, Quinn, I'll hurt a lot more than that." Slowly, without moving his arms, he took a folding knife from the back pocket of his jeans.

"Well, you aren't going to get even that sort of a chance. Give me the Intersect."

"Quinn, you know the Intersect won't work without a Governor. It will drive you insane." He opened the knife one-handed, timing it so that the sound of the click was covered by his voice, and passed it to Sarah's bound right hand. "You will lose your memories, like Sarah. We should destroy it. It's brought nothing but misery."

"Don't lecture me about the Intersect, Bartowski. I know everything there is to know about it. I'm going to take it, kill you and kill that puppet of a wife of yours. I'm rather proud of myself for that one, by the way. Erasing her memories and sending her back in to steal the intersect for me. I knew you'd never suspect your own wife until it was too late."

The sound of sirens startled them all. Sirens which were getting louder by the second.

Behind him, Sarah said, "Chuck"

Chuck immediately stood to the side and the knife flew at Quinn burying itself deep in his shoulder. Quinn staggered back, but didn't go down. He raised the gun to point it at Sarah. As he pulled the trigger, Chuck lunged in the way. The bullet caught him high in the chest and the force of it knocked him back into Sarah, still bound to the chair. As they tumbled backwards, Quinn took the glasses and ran out of the room.

"Chuck? Chuck?" Sarah used her free right hand to cast off the remaining ties and roll him off her. "CHUCK? Please.." She sounded a little panicked.

The sirens were stopping in front of the house. "M,okay," mumbled Chuck. "Vest. Run, Sarah. They're coming for you. Run"

Without another word, Sarah sprinted out of the room and down the stairs. As she was bolting from the house, she spotted the carving on the door frame.

SARAH + CHUCK

She instantly remembered. She remembered carving that with Chuck. Oh God, it was real.

She ran.