She just didn't understand.

Of course, she had never been very good with relationships. Nonetheless, ever since she had gotten to know him, she had been quite certain that if that… that woman… that bitch… that whore… if she ever turned up again in his life, she would slap that little trollop around but GOOD.

So when she came running out of that back room, after shooting the rogue agent, to see him emerge, victorious, from the ballroom, she couldn't help but let a huge smile take over her face when she locked eyes with him. The smile on his face matched hers…

Right up until the Whore of Babylon came marching out of the ballroom, clad in a HazMat suit, pulled off the hood, and laid a big wet one on him. That had almost made her reach for her gun.

What hurt most, though, was later that night. Because that slut with a doctorate was considered suspicious by the powers that be, she had to listen in on her phone conversations. And so she heard the conversation that he had with the little hussy that night, the extraordinarily lewd and suggestive conversation that she KNEW could only have one outcome that night.

It wasn't supposed to be like this for her. She was supposed to be a professional. She was supposed to keep him at arm's length. But that brown-eyed, curly-haired, sweet, goofy, bashful little bastard had turned her into a mess, and now she felt like he had stomped on her heart with golf cleats.

Her partner wouldn't be any help, either. After the snide comment he had made the day before about individuals sleeping with a certain other CIA agent, she was quite certain that he would just laugh in her face.

There was one person that she knew she could turn to, although she had never been entirely comfortable about taking on deep issues with her. Nonetheless, she knew that his sister would completely understand.

And so she found herself standing outside his apartment, shivering in the cool Los Angeles night. The encroaching marine layer had begun to leave a fine layer of dew on everything, leaving her knuckles damp as she knocked on the apartment door.

His sister opened the door a moment later. "Sarah!" she said, a confused look on her face. "Hi – uh, are you alright?"

She tried to smile, but failed. "Sarah, I thought Chuck was going to go see you," his sister said. "Did something happen?"

She sighed. "I guess you could say that."

His sister's expression darkened. "Don't tell me. Jill?"

She nodded, a resigned look on her face.

His sister shook her head, the look on her face turning angry. "Goddammit," she muttered. "That boy needs to be kicked in the head."