A/N: Full A/N at the bottom of the chapter. Enjoy.

Also, this is my answer to all the angst that's been going on these past few months!

Standard Disclaimer goes here


Chapter Two

Nervously he fidgets with his tie, making sure that it's slightly askew. He gives himself the one over, and is satisfied with what he sees… finally. It's just a damn shame that Ellie isn't around to tell him what to wear. Sarah had taken over that job, but well... yeah. For the foreseeable future, Chuck is left to his own dressing devices. So he has chosen a nice shirt, a pair of easy-fitting jeans and some Chucks. They are stylish, or at least, he thinks so.

He grabs the bouquet from the dinner table, before grabbing the car keys. Once he's ready, he walks through the idyllic courtyard, so full of memories that he would rather not think about. Instead he chooses to focus on his goal. That is, to get what he's coveted for over three years, finally had, and then was cruelly stripped away from him. His current—former, he wonders—wife and, he uses this term liberally but it fits, soul-mate.

The inside of the car is warm, thanks to the rays of the sun that have lavished the greater Burbank area that day. Chuck didn't notice. He'd been fretting over what clothes he needed to wear. Intellectually he knows that Sarah is just as desperate—if not more so—as he is for her to regain her memories. Emotionally though, all he wants to do is to make the best impression possible.

And so when he turns on the radio, his mind isn't really with the music. It fades into a pleasant background noise as he focuses on the road, as his mind flashes back to all the wonderful and, admittedly, less wonderful times they've had. They aren't the perfect couple by any means. That honor goes to Ellie and Devon. But Chuck likes to think that he has two fantastic role models. And besides, every couple has their issues. At the end of the day, he knows that he will always come home to her and that is what's important.

As he turns off the freeway and enters the painstakingly familiar stretch of road that leads to Maison 23, he glances over to the bouquet of flowers that's sitting in the passenger seat of the minivan. He was forced to hand the Nerd Herder back over to the Buy More. Subway apparently didn't appreciate former employees stealing—although Chuck was adamant it was simply borrowing—their property. Even if said former employee turned out to be the owner for a while. But that doesn't matter. Carmichael Industries, while not always profitable, did allow them the opportunity to splurge once in a while, and given the fact that the both of them had babies on their mind, a minivan seemed to be the next logical step.

He pulls up to the hotel and checks his rearview mirror once more. The tie is still slightly off. Perfect. He grabs the flowers and steps out of the car. He nods to the valet, who graciously accepts the keys. He recognizes the young man from his visits to the hotel when his relationship to his handler was still but a cover. "Christopher," he says.

"Hey Mister B," Christopher—Chris to his friends or those who tip well—replies. "Trouble with your wife?" He looks at the bouquet with raised eyebrows. It looks ridiculous, the combination of raised eyebrows under the attempted afro that proudly resides on top of his scalp. Combined with the green vest which is a staple for the hotel, it is an unfortunate collaboration.

"You could say that," Chuck sighs. "It's complicated."

"Haven't heard that one in a long time," he says with a smile. Christopher belongs to one of the good guys in Chuck's book. Especially given the fact that he always thought that Chuck, hooking up with 'the hottest piece of tail that Burbank has seen in a long time' was actually legitimate, even in times of their cover relationship. "Hope everything works out for the both of you."

"Thank you. And here," he pulls a wad of cash from his pocket, plucks a fifty from the stack and hands it over, "go treat yourself to something nice. You've earned it." It's not like he can't afford it.

Chris takes the bill, looks it over and stuffs it in his pocket. His smile is positively beaming. "You're alright, mister Bartowski."

"I told you to call me Chuck," he says with a smile, before resuming his gait. He walks past the reception and waves to the staff. Two years gave him long enough to get friendly and while there are some new faces—he hasn't had to set foot in this hotel for a long time, except that one time after the unfortunate incident of a virus being released that had let his arch-nemesis out of prison and Chuck relegated to the couch… in a hotel—most of the staff is still there, or thereabout.

He reaches her door and knocks, shuffling his feet as he always does. She opens the door and he briefly wonders whether Bryce will be behind her, but he quickly dissuades that particular notion. She's made it clear who she has chosen, with or without memories. That and the fact that Bryce has been dead for the past three years. He's still not quite sure how he feels about that.

"Gardenias," she says with a smile as her eyes do a strange little jig that starts at his eyes, moves down to his lips, then to the flowers, back at his lips and then his eyes again. "I shouldn't be surprised, should I?"

"I think you should," he says with a pensive frown. "Makes all this more fun, right?" He feels like he does a good job in removing the melancholic tone from his voice, but then, he is talking to his wife who always had a knack for reading him, even when their relationship status was in flux. She had that ever since he was still an asset to an agency that would order a bullet in his brain when he had become obsolete. And despite the fact that her memories may be gone, that ability of hers hasn't flown the coop just yet. "You ready?"

"Just a minute," she says and she grabs his tie, using it to pull him in the door. In a move that surprises him as much as it appeases him, she kisses him. Not overly intimate, but it certainly isn't a friendly kiss either. As she steps back and fixes his tie for him—causing the internal victory dance that he was doing to grow in proportion—she doesn't look at him as a blush tinges her cheeks. She smoothes his lapels and only then does she look up again. "Okay, now I'm ready."

"That was... wow. That was unexpected."

She smiles, a little shy. "I really, really wanted to, though."

"Hey, you won't hear me complain. Now c'mon. There's a lot that we have to do."

He leads her out and it's with a tinge of sadness that he sees her closing the door and sticking the keycard in her pocket. He'd much rather she just threw the damn thing away and came home. But that obviously wasn't going to happen any time soon, despite the very nice greeting that Sarah gave him. When they get downstairs, Chuck fetches the car and Chris gives him a thumbs up.

"I take it things went well?" he asks.

"Better than expected," Chuck says as he glances over his shoulder and looks at Sarah who has an eyebrow raised. "We're working on it." And that's about as truthful as he can get without giving out information that would earn him a one-way ticket to Gitmo.

"Do I even want to know?" Sarah asks later, as they're on the freeway, driving to the Bamboo Dragon. He was originally going to take her to the restaurant he took her to for their second first date, inspiringly titled 'the Last Dragon', but he's pretty sure that the only thing he would be able to think of while being there, would be Mr. Colt and his imposing frame. And he figures that talking about 'that really big, black guy who beat you senseless and threw me off a roof' is not considered to be a good conversational subject, no matter what culture you hailed from.

"Not really," he says. "A guy's got to have his secrets." He bounces his eyebrows up and down and she laughs and playfully hits his arm.

"Goof," she says as she leans back and a comfortable silence falls between them.

They enter the restaurant, which is dim-lit and sit at one of the empty tables. The ownership has changed hands a couple of times, and Chuck's reasonably sure that any Triad influence is completely gone from the establishment.

"So what's the story here," Sarah asks. "I mean, there is a story, right?"

"Oh yeah, there's a story," he says. "Care to wager a guess?"

She knits her brows together, staring around her, trying to find a point of recognition that will trigger her version of a flash. But after a couple of terse seconds, she sighs. "I've got nothing."

"Okay, well, maybe the memory isn't strong enough. I mean, we didn't get to see a whole lot of the inside on our visit. I think you'd be better acquainted with the freezer anyway." She goggles at him, and he laughs. "After dinner, I promise I'll tell you about it."

The dumplings are immaculate, not that Chuck expected anything else, and the grand finale of sizzling shrimp triggers a memory that he didn't think would've been so prevalent. A memory of a stake out mix, sizzling shrimp and lost opportunities. He waves it off as something that's not too important, but he promises to tell her later. And he will, once he has had enough time to buy a Kevlar vest. He figures her reaction to that time in their lives might not be met with much enthusiasm. Plus, he's seen how she can handle a knife. It's definitely better to be safe than sorry.

After she pops the last piece of shrimp in her mouth, she leans back and pats her stomach. "That was good," she sighs and lets out a burp. Her eyes open wide and she sits up ramrod straight. "Sorry," she says and Chuck starts laughing. She tries to look annoyed, but his laugh is infectious and she smiles. "Anything funny, buster?"

"No," he says and then snorts. "It's just, you always got embarrassed about stuff like that, and it just continues to be funny."

"Like what?"

"Y'know, being un-lady-like. I always thought it was hilarious but for some reason you kept trying to keep it in. You wanted to show me that you and I quote: 'can be a real girl.'" And he is not at all surprised when those words trigger a memory. He knows exactly what memory is seeping back in. A quaint suburb, filled to the brim with sleeper terrorists. A chair with him strapped in it, forced to get the Fulcrum intersect. And then it was her turn to get it. And he protected her, because even back then he was already madly in love with her and it was the right thing to do. And of course, but this was his memory of things, her in a pink slip making breakfast for him and feeding their pet dog, which he had lovingly dubbed Bruno because he could.

She shakes her head; clearing the cobwebs of what he's pretty sure equals one of his flashes. "Really? Martha Stewart?"

Chuck grins at her. "I was surprised too, scouts honor."

"So did I ever really become a hausfrau?"

He shakes his head. "We've had our moments, sure. But no, you never turned into Martha. You always stayed Sarah. Which is a good thing, given that I've grown quite attached to Sarah."

She smiles, but it's a little blander than he likes. But the truth is that he has just as little an idea as to what he's doing as she has. Memories are trickling in, and the signs are there, but the truth is that he knows what Sarah's go-to move is. She flees. She runs from things that scare her. Of course, the things that scare her are what most people look for. Feelings, relationship, stuff like that. Legitimately scary things like guns, knives and bombs she laughs at. Habitually paradoxical: Sarah in a nutshell.

"So do you want to find out what happened here?"

She nods—eagerly so. He tells her about the time he actually managed to make a Chinese spy defect. Her voice tells him she doesn't believe him, but her eyes tell him something different. Somehow, he has managed to make her trust him again. Trust: so very important in relationships, but even more so in the spy world. A world where the world is never-ever black and white, but more like fifty shades of gray—and he hates himself for using that metaphor—means that trust is arguably the most valuable thing a spy has to give.

After the dinner, they walk along the roads for a while, the sounds of cars flying by a nice contrast to the hushed tone of their voices. Sarah nibbles on her lip, internally debating whether or not to tell him something. He waits her out. If there's one thing he knows to be true about her, it's that she needs her time to sort through things. She gives up and he feels a stab of sadness that she doesn't tell him what she wanted to, but then again, can he really be upset with her? He can't imagine waking up one day and being told he was married to someone he had never seen before.

"Thank you for dinner," she says instead. "It was lovely."

"Only the best for you," he says, caught between lightheartedness and sincerity. He opens the door of his car for her and rushes to the driver side as soon as he closes her door. He takes the long road to her hotel, passing by his… their apartment. If Sarah notices, she doesn't comment and the sadness that he feels increases just a little more when she doesn't tell him to stop.

She thanks him with a chaste kiss on the cheek and he's left wondering what he's done wrong. She seemed so much happier when he picked her up. "Thank you for tonight, Chuck. I'll see you soon." As the door falls into the lock, he's even more confused than he was, moments before.

He tries to work up the courage to knock again, to ask her what's wrong and if he can help. But before he can finally take that one last deep sigh before going in—and he swears to himself that he'll take only one more breath before going in, but him promising anything stopped having any meaning when it was the eighth time he convinced himself that he was going to knock—he hears her TV turn on. He hears her voice talking about the first day. She's watching the DVD again. He knocks, but the door slides open. Somehow she's opened it slightly without him noticing. She's sitting against the foot of the bed, her knees hugged to her chest, watching the TV with big eyes and a box of tissues in her hand. She's not crying, but her eyes are red rimmed. When she looks at him, she's not surprised in the slightest that he's still there.

"Thought you'd stick around," she says with a small hitch of her breath. She stifles a sob and turns back to the TV. "I'm glad I was right."

He's next to her in two steps and crouches down. He wants to envelop her in his arms, promise her that he'll take her pain away, except he knows that he can't. He is the pain.

"What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm upset at myself."

"Why?"

"Because I want to be able to look you in the eye and say that I… I lo… care about you. But I just can't do it damn it." The video keeps on playing and the days continue to add up. Chuck sits there in silence. He wonders whether this was her way of telling him to get lost. As he's about to get up and leave—which he has no intention of doing, but if Sarah wants it then who is he to say no—she grabs his arm and clings to it.

The Sarah on the screen tells the camera how she has fallen for Chuck. His Sarah lets go of his arm and when he looks at her, he notices she's silently crying. But her shoulders don't shake and there's not a single sound. Her breathing still sounds normal. Suddenly, she throws the box of tissues away and produces a knife from somewhere on her body. She flings it at the TV and it impales the screen, right in her own face.

"Shall I go?" he asks, fearing the rejection, fearing the acceptance.

"Yeah, okay," she says as she thumbs away her tears. "But Chuck… one day I'll be able to say it. I promise you."

"Should I stop coming by until you're ready?"

"What?" she asks, and she seems genuinely shocked. "No, please don't. It may sound a bit too much like high school, but seeing you has been the highlight of these past few days. Don't take that away from me. Please."

He swallows and looks her straight in the eye. "I wouldn't dare." He gets up, kisses her forehead as she's still watching the now lifeless TV and goes home.

An easy routine starts to develop between the two of them. It reminds him of the way they used to be when they were married. It reminds her of the way she used to be with her mother. She knew she could always count on her. And she knows she can always count on him. She's told him as much. Days turn into weeks, which turn into months. Not every date he takes her on is meant to cause her memory to return. Most of his dates have an ulterior motive, sure. But sometimes, he just likes to take her on a date. It feels weird, courting his wife… again. But if that's what it takes for them to get back to where they were, he'll gladly take a little weird. He did have a computer literally embedded in his brain, after all.

They haven't had sex in ages and it's beginning to show. His body instinctively reacts to her presence so close to him, and the most innocent of touches can start a raging fire inside him. Sarah doesn't seem overly affected by his presence though. That or maybe she's just better at hiding it. Paris is still a fond memory of his and the way he sees it, they were both quite active participants, so he figures she was probably attracted to him as well. And every time he thinks about Paris, he knows that he still has one final plan: the plan that pulls out all of the stops. He doesn't like thinking of it as a Hail Mary, but he knows that at its core, it's exactly that.

But the memories in Burbank are starting to get to an end. He still takes her to places where they've been, but the frequency with which they seem to trigger her flashes are lowering drastically. Until one day, she stops flashing completely. He looks at her and even though she knows a lot more than when she came home for that first time, he still feels it's not enough. But he's not going to ask her. He would rather live in denial than hear the words that will finally do him in.

Five months after finding her on the beach, he's sitting in his living room—he has completely stopped thinking of it as their home—zoned out in front of the TV. The controller in his hands is being manipulated expertly, but it's not a conscious effort. Fragging noobs has been the only high point in his otherwise bland existence. He always knew that Sarah was his anchor to normality, even when she was still a spy. Because if without him, she was just a spy, he in turn would only be a nerd without her. But together, they were extraordinary.

A knock on the door pulls him out of his mental bubble and he drops the controller on the couch. He figures it's probably Morgan who will try and cheer him up but fail epically, given that his relationship with his girlfriend is still going strong.

But when he sees Sarah standing opposite of him, his mouth goes dry. They had a standing date for the day after tomorrow, so for her to show up would mean something bad. Maybe she's finally realizing that she's too good for him and came to let him down easy. That was probably it.

"Hey."

"Hi Chuck."

"What can I do for you?" he asks. His tone is slightly more aggressive than he likes, but the walls have already begun to fortify his heart. He knows it will shatter, but at least now he can catch the fragments.

"I was wondering if I…" Her hands start fidgeting and she starts chewing her lip again. He wants to shake her, to tell her to spit it out already so he can go to his liquor cabinet and start drinking himself into a stupor. Instead, he puts an easy smile on his face and waits her out. "I was wondering if I could sleep here for a few nights. See how it goes."

He knows he's staring when Sarah waves her hand in front of his face and asks, "Chuck, are you okay?"

"What? Yeah, no, yeah, definitely. That's fine, great even! Of course you can stay over here. Lemme just quickly make this place presentable and…"

"It's fine," she says and she walks past him into his apartment like she owns it. Which, in a way, is true. She looks around the place quizzically, prodding the photos that he still can't stomach to turn back up. "Chuck, did you change the interior when I was gone?"

"No."

"Can't believe I lived here," she mutters and he instantly becomes defensive.

"Why not?"

"I let you keep all this stuff? I don't even know what any of it is."

"No, but I told you what most of it was and then you were okay with it."

"I even let you keep those DVDs?"

"Yeah, we watched them together and everything."

"You got me to watch science fiction?" she asks as she watches the gargantuan stack of DVDs with a look of horror on her face. "When did that happen?"

"Not long after we married, you finally decided that you wanted to know what the big deal was with the, and these are your words, not mine: 'hairy ape and sulu toys'. And by the way, they're collectibles."

"You must've been great in the sack. I can see no other way as to how you got me interested in this."

"I like to think that I'm also tall, dark and caring. Roan said it was a winning combination."

"You met Roan Montgomery?"

"Sure, we all did. We found him in Palm Springs."

Her cheeks color red and he wonders what she's thinking about. "Yeah… yeah, I think I remember that one."

He wonders what has gotten her so embarrassed. But when he thinks back, truly thinks back to that time it hits him square in the face. "Oh… yeah, I remember too."

"So," she says as she walks to the sofa, her steps measured but unsure, "what are we going to do?"

"Well, we could do what we've been doing all along, but I think that the memories in Burbank are starting to run out."

She arches her eyebrow. "You sound like you have another idea."

And then he finally gets to spend the money that he's been saving up as a last resort for Sarah to get her memories back. His final ploy to make sure she wouldn't leave him with a ring that had no counter-part and a heart that was broken in two and carried by someone who had no idea that the only way to fix it would be to say those three little words back to him.

He surprises her by asking her out on a trip to Europe. She surprises the both of them by accepting without a single moment of hesitation.

Their first destination is Milan—the smart bullets mission. Sarah barely remembers it. The only thing she truly remembers is that Chuck has a fondness for Project Catwalk, whatever that was. Still, it's enough to make him giddy. He books them two hotel rooms, but she tells him to stop being silly and corrects him in fluent Italian that they'd much rather take a single room. Still, Chuck demands that he sleeps on the couch. At first she doesn't think it's such a big deal to sleep in the same bed, after all they are technically married, even if the memories that Sarah has of the event are inspired by repeatedly watching the DVD. But Chuck pleads with her and it's his argument of being unsure as to whether he can control himself that finally sways her. Chuck thinks it's more for her benefit than his though. She seemed annoyed by his incessant… it isn't whining per se, but still.

They visit the city and Chuck doesn't seem to have to fool himself into believing them to be a couple. She seems to genuinely enjoy herself as they walk around, having all the time in the world. But the next destination scares him. He knows it's definitely the most visceral memory he has. He doesn't even want to begin trying to understand what it did to her. He takes her to Prague.

She seems to notice his demeanor change and she grabs his hand. "Chuck, why are we here?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's obvious that this is making you uncomfortable," she says as they walk over one of the many bridges that get illuminated at night, and into the city center. "Why are we here?"

"You'll see," he says and they keep getting closer to the train station. The train station where Chuck Bartowski would cease to exist and Hector would take his place. He would lose everything, but gain something so much more. And he traded it in for a failed career as a spy, not only losing himself in the process, but also her.

He reaches the platform where he broke her heart and she looks around. She seems confused by its significance and it looks like she might never remember. But then the sound of an announcer calling out something triggers what he was so afraid of. When she shakes herself out of it, she cocks her head. "Did you ever apologize?"

"Yes," he says and he looks at his feet as they shuffle around a bit. He doesn't want to look her in the eye. He expects a slap, but instead he feels warmth as she tips his head up to look at her and puts her hand on his cheek.

"Chuck. I really, really care about you." It catches him off-guard. Here they are where arguably the worst moment in their relationship occurred and she tells him she cares about him.

She starts fidgeting, feeling uncomfortable and he can't really understand why she would unless… right, yeah, feelings. He forgot. "I care about you too," he says and she finally relaxes… and slaps him. It's not overly hard and it only stings for a couple of seconds as she rubs the spot she just hit him, before giving it a small kiss.

"I assume that you deserved that," she says with a cheeky grin. He can't help but smile back at her. Bits by pieces, the Sarah he's grown to know so well is coming back.

He takes her to Paris, choosing to forego Russia because well, it's really cold out there and really, who likes the cold? He sees the Eiffel tower and gets giddy again. The small memory it triggers—only a name—causes his giddiness to evaporate. "Who's Hannah?" she asks and he quickly explains, hoping to dodge any more slaps. Luckily, she seems appeased when he tells her that the moment he realized that Hannah didn't hold a candle to her, he dumped her. He doesn't inform her how he did it. He was kind of a dick back then.

But she still seems different after the revelation and that night, after a dinner by candlelight, she tells him she doesn't want to do anything else that night but go back to their hotel. She makes a phone call while they're on the way back but he doesn't understand a lot of what she's saying. Her French is rapid and while it seems to be a common thing for Europeans to have a ridiculous talking speed—kind of like Ellie—Sarah too seems to have mastered the art form.

When they get into their hotel room, it's dark and a few candles are flickering. Sarah's behind him. "Hannah wasn't the only memory that trickled back in," she says. But before he has the chance to question what is going on, she slams the door shut and throws him against it, before throwing herself against him and mauling him. He realizes he's a less than active participant and quickly changes that as he attacks her lips just as vigorous.

When she starts leading him to bed however, his brain kicks in and he pushes himself away from her. She looks hurt, but he shakes his head. "Are you absolutely, one hundred percent sure?"

She produces an impressive strip of condoms from the back pockets of her jeans and gave him a 'get real' look. "Yeah, I'm sure. Now hurry up."

He doesn't have to be told twice and damn near tackles her to the bed. She's laughing and just holds on for the ride.

Later, when they're lying together in the same bed once more, his idea of sleeping on the couch or a separate bed seems almost idiotic.

They get back to Burbank a few days after that night. They haven't had sex since then, but it doesn't bother him. Something changed. He knows it. She knows it. But his quest is not over yet. He won't rest until his wife is completely back.

But there's something different in Burbank. She slowly starts moving her stuff in from her hotel. Trivial things at first, larger items later. She doesn't have a whole lot but she does have a few keepsakes. To compliment her moving in, he slowly starts turning the pictures up. But the memory return seems to have stopped completely. At first he thinks it's normal, but when she doesn't seem as affectionate as she was in Paris, he starts panicking.

Desperately he's calling out words that he knows are at the core of important memories. Words like Volkoff, Hydra, even the name of their hotel in Paris, not the one they were in a few weeks back, but the first one. Nothing works. The blank look in her eyes says it all. She knows they're important and she can't remember them. He knows—he really does—that it doesn't matter. But he still feels like it's a failure on his part. And judging by the way she's scrutinizing him, he figures that she has the idea it's her fault. Finally, he gives up and accepts that those memories probably won't come back. Memories that made him scream in anguish and laugh in unadulterated joy. Memories that caused her to light up like a Christmas tree or shut down with the blank look that he started calling her 'agent Walker' mode. Memories that essentially formed them.

"Hey, it's okay," she says and she grabs his hand. "Whatever is going through your mind right now, just drop it."

"What do you mean?"

"You're blaming yourself. And you're doubting yourself. And you're doubting me. Do you really think that memories are what's important in our relationship? I seem to recall you telling me that I fell for you after one day. I knew about as much of you then as I did on the beach. It's not about memories, Chuck. It has never been. It's about us."

"But then… why have we stopped touching? Kissing? It seems like we're at a complete standstill," he says. "It's more like we're roomies now. I thought things had changed."

"They have!" she says. "How can you assume they haven't? The only reason I stopped being so affectionate was because I thought that you didn't want me to."

"Of course I want you to! I love you!" He realizes too late that he didn't say care, but then he doesn't care anymore. He wants her to know.

But instead of backing down and hiding like he figures she would, her look turns to pure defiance. "And I love you." The room falls to silence after that. He finally hears what he so longed to hear and he has to make sure that he's not dreaming. She helps him by pinching him. "Figures you would try something like this," she says with a smirk as he shoots her a questioning look.

She looks around the apartment, trying to decide something. But just when he thinks that she'll let it slide, she looks him in the face and says the one thing that he doesn't expect her to say. "Let's renew our vows."

It's not their church where they end up, but rather the beach. The salty sea air assault his nose, but it doesn't smell like despair, like it did last time. It smells like victory.

And as they say their vows once again, surrounded by people that have been so important to the both of them, Chuck knows that he's done the impossible. And he does feel a little proud. But mostly, he feels a relief that he has never known could exist. If losing Jill was bad, losing Sarah would be twenty times worse. But he hasn't lost her, not anymore. Seventy-eight times. He's shown her seventy-eight times how much he cared for her. And she has reciprocated. Twice. He finally gets to put her ring back in its proper place, the ring she had given him back so long ago. And just then, he promises that he will do everything he can, to never lose her again.

And the best part of it all is that she promises him the same.

The End


A/N 2: I'm sorry? I think that's how I'm supposed to start these sorts of things. But really, time just got away from me. Some 8/9 months ago, I started this fic, trying to right the wrongs committed to us by those horrible show runners etc. etc. etc. You know the drill. I thought I could pump this story out in record time. I was right, except I was wrong in the record I would break. Damn, my estimation was off. Other ideas caught my fancy, and so I started working on those first and then I got other things to do and real life decided to rear its ugly head and you know how it goes. Hope people still remember this one.

Obviously I understand that with time, less people will desperately vie for closure, but I do want to finish things I started. This goes extra for this one because this is probably the last update you will see from me in a long, LONG time, if not forever.

This has everything to do with the fact that I've started an academic pursuit of a Bachelor degree in journalism. In other words, I started at uni. And it turns out that it's the hardest course they offer in terms of how many assignments you get. So far, I've been typing up a story every day. And while I'm loving it, it does drain a lot of my free time. Couple that with having Word open every day, and you can understand that the desire to write in my free time might not be very high. So thank you all very much for sticking with my stories and I hope you enjoyed this one final hurrah.

So thank you for reading this and my other stories, and thank you for the reviews. They've meant a lot to me. And for now: goodbye

Also, my profile now hosts a bit more of an in-depth explanation, so if you want you can read that too ;)