Well, some guy on the forum boards told me that I would some day write a story that would make the Charah shippers happy. Here is the result. I hope that you all enjoy it!

This fic was originally written by verkisto in the constructed language Esperanto under the title "Chuck ktr la pasinteco". It was done that way to make IB, the ultimate Charah shipper, suffer, but he's borne it like a man and here is the English translation. Cheers, Bill!

Additional A/N: I did this translation from the Esperanto version in a more direct way than translators usually do their job so some of the syntax, etc., may seem jarring to an English speaker. If you're interested in learning more about Esperanto, check out the website at lernu dot net.

Chuck was almost ready. He once again checked to see if everything was just right. He had flowers. He had reserved the best spot in the restaurant. He had even arranged for musicians. Yes, everything was ready. Now he had to go and meet Sarah.

While he drove to her hotel, he remembered the first time they had gone to a restaurant on a date. That had been a Mexican restaurant. Then, he had had absolutely no idea that Sarah was a government agent whose job was to become his friend so that her bosses could take control of the database in his brain. Today, he was no longer sure that that even mattered. Because of that, they met each other and because of that he was now going to her.

He parked the car and went up in the elevator. Standing in front of the door, he smiled to himself and waited a bit so he could enjoy the moment. In less than a minute, he would once again see the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. And the best part was that now she truly was his girlfriend!

Finally, Chuck knocked on the door and held flowers in the air in front of himself. The door opened. There she was!

"Hello, Chuck," Sarah said, and now, at the sound of her voice, his heart jumped in his chest.

"Please come in," she said, gesturing with her hand.

Chuck entered and offered the flowers to Sarah.

"For you," he clarified.

Sarah took them while saying, "What beautiful flowers, Chuck. Thank you very much. You are so nice!"

When she kissed him on his cheek, his felt himself the luckiest man in the world and had to wrestle against the impulse to immediately smile, dance and sing his joy.

They sat in an Italian restaurant in a good section of Los Angeles. A single candle gave its light to heighten for Chuck the mysterious beauty of Sarah. He watched intently everything that she did. She ate bread, drank wine, ate pasta with grace that bedazzled Chuck. When they had almost finished eating and had ordered coffee, Chuck excused himself to go to the restroom. He stood, smiled at his beautiful one, and walked to the rear part of the restaurant.

Instead of going into the restroom, he caught the attention of the maƮtre d', with whom he had spoken earlier on the telephone.

"Is everything ready?" Chuck asked him, and received confirmation in the form of a gesture that indicated a trio of musicians, one with a guitar, one with a violin, and the third whose job it was to sing. The singer also held one blood-red rose in his hand.

"Perfect. Thank you," said Chuck, going back to the table.

"Well, shall we go home?" inquired Sarah, searching for her purse.

"I want to stay a few more minutes, if that's all right with you," answered Chuck.

Suddenly, one could hear soft music from the kitchen. At first, only a guitar and, after a few seconds, a violin melody was added. Finally, while the doors into the main part of the restaurant opened and the music became louder, a clear, beautiful voice began to sing an Italian love song.

The trio approached Sarah. Bowing slightly, the singer gave her the blood-red rose and afterwards stepped backwards and stood with the instrumentalists and they continued to quietly play and sing.

Chuck stood, came around the table and lowered himself until he rested on one knee before Sarah, who tenderly held the rose to her chest. Chuck took the rose out of her hands, pulled a diamond ring from the center, and placed the flower on the table. He showed the ring to Sarah and, taking her left hand in his right hand, he asked simply, "Sarah, will you be my wife?"

Instead of saying "yes" the way Chuck expected, Sarah began to cry. She let her head fall hanging from her neck and the tears dripped freely from her eyes.

"No, Chuck, I can't," she answered quietly.

He hesitated, thinking for only a few seconds.

"You can't or you don't want to?" he asked her.

"I can't," she answered. "I have no right. I have had to do so many bad things in my career. You are the most kind, the most polite man I have ever met in my life. You deserve a woman much better than I am."

"Well, Sarah," Chuck said, placing his finger under her chin and pushing it up high enough that she had to look at him, "if I am lucky enough to have you as my wife, I will have to work for the rest of my life to deserve you. Say yes, dear."

He gave her the most sincere and pleading look she had ever seen. Throwing her arms around his neck, she hugged him tightly. Letting go of his neck, she once again looked at his face and, still crying but now for joy, she let him put the ring on her finger and cried out, "Yes, Chuck, yes!"