It had been some time since any part of my memory had come back. Months, in fact. And it was getting frustrating – here I was, I had remembered the first couple of months after I met Chuck, but then two thirds of a year had gone by, and I had remembered nothing more.

Chuck and I had talked about it at length. I had called Ellie Woodcomb who – after I had apologized profusely for taking her hostage – told me that the brain is a tricky, tricky and completely unpredictable organ. She had also given me a referral to a psychologist and a neurologist who she had worked with in Los Angeles; I went to see them and was told essentially the same thing – memory restoration after amnesia has no real set pattern or time frame.

In mid-October, in an attempt to give myself something to do, I had decided to take it upon myself to throw the "legendary" Bartowski Halloween party that Ellie was no longer around to oversee. It surprised me to learn that I apparently have a knack for party planning – and if I continue finding myself with a need for something to fill my life, I might just consider doing it professionally.

I had a whole list of things that I needed to accomplish the day of the party. First among them: find myself a slave Princess Leia outfit. I might not be able to remember having dressed up like that, but I HAD seen the picture of me wearing it from Halloween 2007, and I figured it might be a nice surprise for Chuck if I wore it.

Also… I felt like I was ready to be intimate with Chuck again. I had tried to suggest it a few times over the last month, but he is just too much of a gentleman. Thus, I decided that perhaps more active measures were in order, among those active measures being the Princess Leia bikini.

Unfortunately, around mid-afternoon, I found myself running behind. It had taken me somewhat longer than I had expected to find the Princess Leia bikini, and while I was getting things done, there was no way I was going to be able to get to the last task on my list. So I called Chuck.

"Hey, I need you to swing by the dry cleaner on the way home," I told him.

"Not a problem," he said. "What am I picking up?"

"Just the Shai-Hulud costume," I said. "It smelled incredibly bad, and I figured that if you and Morgan wanted to wear it, you probably didn't want to be smelling its stink all night."

Chuck didn't say anything. "Chuck, is that alright? Can you do that?"

"How did you know about the Shai-Hulud?"

I frowned. How DID I know about the Shai-Hulud? For that matter, how did I know it was CALLED that? "Uh… didn't you tell me?"

"Sarah, I haven't worn the Shai-Hulud for Halloween in five years. I haven't even thought about it in almost as long." I could practically hear the grin in his voice. "You must have remembered it!"

And I'll tell you what. The sheer joy of having my memory start to restore itself again after so many months, the release of the frustration… well, let's just say that Chuck got lucky that night. VERY lucky.

Three times.