A/N Sorry it has taken so long to update. C'est la vie, as the French would say.

Hope this makes up for it.

Just so you all know, this might departure just slightly from canon as it goes on. Not just with the timeline because honestly the timeline in the episode made no sense to me no matter how hard I tried to understand it (which is fine for the show but killer if you're trying to write fic about it). But I'm going to start giving them some deep, maybe serious situations and discussions. With lots of fluff. And sex. So don't worry. That won't change. Just wanted to give you all a head's up.

Disclaimer I don't own Chuck.


She heard the sound of a car horn in the distance, but other than that, there was only the rushing of the blood in her ears. Everything was numb. Everything was so hazy and just…

Wait. Somebody's arm was around her middle. She was being half-supported, dragged along the road and…

No. No no no. No, please.

The person holding her wasn't Chuck. Because when her eyes fell from the railing of the bridge she was being led onto, she saw that she was wearing her red coat. The same red coat she'd worn a few nights ago when Agent Shaw tried to kill her. The arm around her wasn't Chuck's—she knew Chuck's touch—this was Shaw.

No. How?

She had just been nestled in the warmth of Chuck's embrace. They'd spent hours and hours on end in the compartment of a train, exploring and being together. Finally. Why was she here? Why wasn't Shaw dead? What was happening? She tried to speak, but she couldn't. And she was pressed against the railing. It was all she could do not to slump to the floor, she was so tired, so distraught.

Why wasn't she with Chuck? How was she here?

Oh God, please no.

It had all been a dream. Her feverish mind had implanted those memories in her. Perhaps the tranquilizer had knocked her unconscious for a moment while Daniel dragged her to where he was going to finally kill her. And while she was unconscious, even if only for a few seconds, she had dreamt she was with Chuck—her Chuck.

Maybe it was her body's way of giving her one last respite, a moment of happiness with the man she loved, before she died.

She realized she would never have that in real life, the feeling of him cradling her against him in the most intimate way, her name on his lips as his hands scorched patterns on her skin. She would never see Chuck Bartowski again.

It was all a dream. Everything.

She shook her head as best she could, feeling the anguish and disappointment rock her. She was desperate to have that chance again—desperate to stroke her hand over his curly hair and kiss his face. But the tranq dart had worked her over and she could barely keep her eyes open.

Hanging over the railing, she let out a half sob. Was Shaw saying something? She didn't know. She didn't care. She wanted to dream again. She wanted to be on that train with Chuck, wrapped up in him, showing him how much she loved him.

God, she just wanted that chance. She wanted it to be real.

She could almost feel his presence now.

"You won't feel a thing," she heard distantly. That wooden voice, a voice she had always disliked, but thought for some reason could help her battle the deep, unabiding love she had for Chuck. The love she would always have for Chuck.

Shaw was right though, even though he was a crazy bastard, a liar and a turncoat. She couldn't feel anything.

And yet, her heart was aching so.

Because it hadn't been real. None of it had been real. She hadn't gotten to touch him. He hadn't touched her. It was a dream. And it hurt so badly to know she would never get that again.

"Stop!"

For some reason, she heard Chuck's voice loud and clear. And the cocking of a gun, far off in the distance. And then another gun. Everything was so hazy, but she found enough strength to turn her head. She heard Shaw mutter something, but she didn't care. Because she saw him—Chuck—standing at the end of the bridge.

He looked so desperate, hurt, and she was terrified because he had her gun clutched in his hands, pointing it at Shaw. Chuck couldn't do it. He wouldn't be able to pull that trigger. She knew it. He couldn't do it for his Red Test, and he couldn't do it now. And she was so scared. She wanted to yell at him, tell him to go, even though the selfish part of her was glad she got to see his face one more time.

"Please. It doesn't have to be like this," she heard him say. And even as she felt her consciousness slipping, she loved him. She loved that he was trying so hard to save her. "This isn't you, Shaw."

Oh, Chuck. Her unfailingly wonderful Chuck who always saw the best in people…

He was so wrong. This was Shaw. Shaw was a maniac, driven to madness by the death of his wife, without knowing how it happened or why, he would avenge her death. And that meant Sarah had to die. And anyone else who stood in his way. And Chuck needed to go. She couldn't make her mouth move so she just begged him with her eyes.

But he wasn't looking. Chuck, go. Go. Please, go.

"You can't do this."

She turned her head to look at Shaw. He was thinking about it. Chuck was getting through to him. Put the gun down. Put it down. The mantra repeated in her head. But then she saw his grip tighten, his jaw clench and his eyes harden even further. No.

"No, Chuck. You can't. I can."

He lifted the gun and squeezed, the sound of his gun echoing off of the buildings around them. She saw her gun slip from Chuck's fingers as his body jolted three times. "NO!" she heard herself scream, her mouth suddenly working just fine.

The splash of red on Chuck's shirt front was only visible for a moment as Chuck tipped backwards and landed on the ground.

"NO!"

She pushed herself away from the railing and fell into a heap, trying to crawl to him, needing to get to him. "Chu…Ch…" She was losing consciousness. "No…"

Sarah's eyes snapped open and she was suddenly looking not at the sight of the man she loved dying on the pavement, but a blurred canvas of skin. She was in a bed. She wasn't wearing any clothes. And as she pushed herself up on her elbow, wiping at her tears, she realized she was in the dark train compartment. The back she woke up looking at was Chuck Bartowski's.

Relief rocked her and she let out half of a sob, lowering herself back down to the mattress and wrapping her arm around him, pressing herself tightly against him, feeling him, letting the tears fall down her face as she kissed him between his shoulder blades.

"Sarah…?"

She felt a pang of guilt at waking him up, but only for a moment, because she needed to see him alive, she needed to see his vibrant eyes and she needed to make sure he wasn't bleeding. Shaw hadn't shot him. Chuck shot Shaw. But she needed to see it.

Chuck turned over slowly, blinking tiredly and peering into her face. "Hey," he breathed. "Hey, you're crying. Sarah…" His warm brown eyes made the tears abate a little and she gave him a self-conscious and watery smile.

"Hi. I didn't mean to wake you." She swiped at her face and sniffled.

"What happened?" he asked, immediately gathering her up in his arms and pulling her tightly into his chest, surrounding her in his strength. And even though she had never let any man protect her or comfort her, even though she had always had enough fortitude to support herself, she melted into Chuck Bartowski. And she clung to him. Hard.

"Just a nightmare." Thank God.

He pulled back and smiled a little. "Must have been some nightmare." His thumb wiped at a tear on her cheek, his lips pressing against her forehead. "You wanna talk about it?"

She shook her head and instead buried her face in his neck, reveling in the heat emanating from his body. She had been so cold on that bridge. So cold and hopeless. Distraught and heartbroken. Her Chuck…

"Okay. But if you nee—"

"Shaw killed you."

He was silent for a moment. "Oh."

"You didn't pull the trigger and he did. You were gone."

His hand brushed her hair back so gently and his lips were on her temple, dotting kisses down her face, over her cheekbone, back up to her temple, and finally they brushed against her ear. "I'm right here. I'm fine."

"I know. It's just that it felt so real, and suddenly, what had happened on this train felt like nothing but a dream."

"This isn't a dream," he said with conviction.

But she suddenly needed proof. She needed to feel him. She needed that connection again. She needed the rest of the world to fade into the background so that it was only them.

Sarah put her hand on his chest and gently traced a pattern down his torso, before stroking around to the small of his back where she rubbed his muscles there, earning a soft sigh of comfort from him. And then her hand was cupping his backside and she kissed his chin, opening her mouth and tasting his skin as she moved to his neck.

She marveled at how Chuck seemed to know exactly what she needed, because he kissed her hard, gripping her face in his hands and rolling her onto her back. She slid her hands beneath the sheets that were draped over them and grasped onto the waistband of his boxers.

Working together, they pushed them down his legs, losing them somewhere beneath the sheets at the foot of the bed. But Sarah lost all conscious thought of anything besides him when he rolled on top of her, his heated skin against hers, his full weight pressing down on her.

Within moments Chuck was buried inside of her. She kept her eyes open as he began to thrust, his movements slow and powerful. It felt incomprehensibly good, clinging to him again, being connected, hearing the soft sighs he made with each push inside of her. "Oh, Chuck…" she whimpered, turning her face into his hair and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, her fingernails digging into his skin.

He groaned into her neck, and even with the way the bed rocked beneath them, the strength of Chuck's strokes perhaps a bit too much for the frame, he didn't slow down, he didn't let up. She grabbed him by his waist, whispering his name in a hiss.

And when her name was finally on his lips, right next to her ear, she felt tears prick at her eyes and she squeezed them shut tightly.

A moment later, he was on his back and she was looking down at him. She took only a moment to take him in, knowing now that this wasn't a dream, that he was alive and real. And hers. And then she swayed her hips back and forth, one hand clinging to the back of his neck, the other pressed against his shoulder.

"Sarah," he grunted, his hands on her hips. But he wasn't guiding her, or controlling her. Chuck was letting her take what she needed. She needed to feel him inside of her, against her, around her. So she lowered her torso against his and changed her movements, burying her face in his shoulder and whimpering.

His arms wrapped around her, almost as though by instinct, and he tugged her close. Her hips stilled and she clung again, her lips against his collarbone as she breathed his name. "I've got you," he whispered then, nuzzling his nose against her temple. "I've got you."

He rolled them over again, the bed creaking in protest. He cradled her beneath him with one arm, his hand clutching at the sheet beside her shoulder as he began to thrust into her again. He was gentle and slow, sighing softly with each movement.

Sarah was drowning in him, unable to come up for air—not wanting to come up for air. She wrapped a leg around him and moaned, stroking her fingers down his jaw as she felt that now familiar thrill. "Chuck…" she whimpered, his lips closing over hers and swallowing her moan. The hand beside her reached up to cup her face and with one swift stroke of his hips, she shook, her body suddenly ignited, flames licking all the way down to her toes and through her fingers. His name was an oath she repeated over and over again as he tenderly held her, his hips gently rocking until she began to lower from her high.

She could barely breathe, let alone speak. But she turned her lips to his ear, her fingernails still digging into his back. "Finish," she whispered, barely moving her mouth.

He raised his head and cocked an eyebrow. She nodded and he continued his thrusts into her until he found his own climax. He gasped her name as she felt him explode, and she threw her head back against the pillow and reached up to slam her hand against the headboard of their bed.

They clung together, breathing hard, neither making a move to separate, staying that way for what must have been at least five minutes until they regained the ability to use their sated limbs.

It was still dark outside of the train and Sarah guessed it must be nearly two in the morning. That was a slight disappointment, not because she wanted the time to go quicker. She wanted as much time in this paradise with Chuck as she could get before…before what? She shook her head, dispelling herself of letting her mind wander down that path again. No, she was hoping it would be closer to morning so that she might stay awake.

Sleep suddenly seemed a frightful thing. She couldn't suffer through another nightmare with Chuck dying. Nothing in the world was more terrifying to her than that. All of the nightmares she'd had in the past from the things she'd been ordered to do for a mission paled in comparison to the sight of Chuck in a pool of his own blood.

She couldn't handle the thought of watching him take his last breath.

"Sarah?"

Her eyes snapped open and she looked up at him. "Chuck." The smile that swept over her features was perhaps the most natural thing in the world.

"Are you okay?"

"Mmm." She nodded.

"You're crying again."

She pawed at her cheeks with her fingers. So she was. "It's okay. I'm okay."

His kiss was sweet and satisfying, though perhaps not quite as satisfying as what they'd just done together. She'd never felt closer to another human being ever in her life than she did to Chuck, especially in the darkness of this compartment. It wasn't just their physical closeness, though if they were any closer they'd go right through one another. It was the way he'd known instinctively that she needed him to make love to her. She needed him to scare away the demons that lingered from her nightmare.

He was vigorous and solid, something steady she could hold onto. And like he'd promised her the night before, he had "handled" the situation when she was unsure. She was shaken up over the nightmare and he'd dispelled her of her fears, made her think of nothing but him and what he was doing to her. And when she'd moved him onto his back, he let her take control, as though he knew it was exactly what she needed.

It was impossible for him to be so right for her. Because for her whole life, Sarah Walker had been certain there was no one in the world who was right for her. There were the few men she had given her body to, and there was Bryce who had even incited some affection or care or…whatever it was…

But she had known with Bryce Larkin, even in the best moments, that he wasn't right for her.

Chuck had been right for her from the beginning. And yet, the timing hadn't been right.

This? This was right. This moment. These past few days.

They had each done some growing and maturing in the last few years. She didn't know about Chuck, but for her part, she was sure now. There was nothing in her entire life she'd ever been so sure of like she was sure of Chuck Bartowski.

And while she still couldn't scrounge up the courage or understanding, even, to put it into words, she felt it. She knew it.

A moment later, Chuck pulled away and flopped onto his back, sighing and running his hands down his face. "You know, if you took all of the sex I've had throughout my entire life and put it together it still wouldn't be as much as I've had with you in the last three days. And that's amazing," he said quietly. She could hear his grin in his voice, even though she couldn't see it.

"Good."

He laughed at that and she joined in, feeling the skin of her cheeks that had been covered in tears moments earlier crack a little as it was stretched by her explosive smile.

And then he turned onto his stomach, resting his chin on his folded arms and smiled.

That was when she saw the crescent-shaped, red marks on his upper back. She pushed herself up onto her elbows and let her fingers gently slide over the marks she'd made with her fingernails. "Wow. Uh, Chuck? I may have done a number on your back."

"Really?"

Why did he seem so excited about it? He practically leapt from the bed and padded across the floor to the bathroom, nearly colliding with the foot of the bed in the meantime.

"What are you doing?" she asked, sitting all the way up and watching as he flicked the bathroom light on, turning with his back to the mirror so that he could look at the indentations.

"I didn't know I was doing that," she said, wincing apologetically. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? This is like…better than…" He took a deep breath and turned his head back to look at her. She was forcing herself to keep her eyes on his face as he spoke to her. "This is like…the Blue Ribbon of sex."

"What?" she laughed.

"Yeah! You know you're good when your girlfriend gives you these," he flicked his thumb in a gesture at his back.

She gaped for a moment, trying not to focus on the warmth that spread through her at hearing him call her his girlfriend. As fantastic as it made her feel, she had to boggle at his enthusiasm. "Chuck, you realize how frat boyish that sounded, right?"

"A little belatedly, yeah. Sorry." He looked sheepish and she lifted her arms, opening them in invitation. "Who, me?" He looked to and fro over his shoulder and she rolled her eyes. Nerd.

Before he could leap into the air and land on the bed, Sarah clambered to her knees. "Wait, wait. I think you did a little bit of a number on this bed of ours a few minutes ago. Maybe don't jump on it."

She was pleased greatly by the bright red color of his face at that. He'd been the one that'd done it. Not her. And yet he was red as a radish.

"I wasn't that…" He waved his hand around a little, walking back to his side of the bed and climbing under the sheets beside her.

"Oho, oh yes you were, Mr. Bartowski. You were certainly that."

He flopped onto his back and grinned. Sarah couldn't help but let him have the pride she saw in his face as he put his hands behind his head and sighed, his teeth flashing in the darkness. "Think they'll let us order a midnight snack?"

"You're hungry?" She couldn't decide whether she was more stunned or impressed. They'd been eating quite a bit of food on this trip. Then again, they'd also been burning a lot of calories, and Chuck was usually a big eater. Especially for such a lanky guy. Then again, the lankiness was less of an issue lately. He'd obviously developed quite a bit of muscle since his training began. And she'd be such a liar if she didn't admit it looked (and felt) fantastic on him. And on her.

She stifled a smirk at that thought.

"I mean…I could eat."

"You always eat. I don't know where you put it." His smile turned a bit cheeky. "Never mind. I take that back."

He chuckled and rounded her waist with his arm, tugging her down against him and holding her close. "I don't need to eat. We'll just have a massive breakfast."

"Mm, sounds good."

Sarah kept her eyes open as she felt Chuck's breathing even out a few minutes later. She peeked up at him and saw that he had fallen asleep again, so she gently extracted herself and got up from the bed, pulling her underwear on and the sexy chemise she'd worn to bed (for a very short while).

She found herself standing in the bathroom, the door cracked so that the light wouldn't wake Chuck. She looked at her reflection for a few moments, taking in the slope of her shoulders, her thin waist, her arms, and back up to her face. While she felt a little congested from crying, everything else just felt…so good. She felt loose and sated. For the first time in her entire life she felt…fulfilled.

And while, yes, there was a hint of shadow beneath her eyes from lack of sleep, it wasn't from stress or heartbreak. It was because she and Chuck had been otherwise occupied with other things—pleasurable things. And not just sex, but talking about things. Things that mattered, and then things that didn't matter at all.

She wondered if a nice, hot shower might make her comfortable enough to sleep without nightmares. But then there was the worry that she might wake Chuck again. For that matter, she had enjoyed the shower they had taken together the other day, and thought she'd rather wait for the morning when Chuck could join her.

So instead of turning on the water, she opened the door and flicked off the light again, nearly jumping as she saw Chuck's eyes shining in the moonlight sneaking in through the drawn drapes. He was wide awake, lying on his back, the sheets pooled at his waist. His feet hung a little off the end of the bed and it was so cute. He was like a little boy who'd had a growth spurt and suddenly didn't fit in his bed anymore.

"Are you okay?" His voice drifted up from where he lie, peering at her seriously.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I guess I'm just not very tired."

"Oh." He pushed himself up the bed and fixed his pillow so that he was leaning against the headboard. "C'mere, then."

"No, Chuck…You were asleep."

He waved her off and sent her a bit of a smolder. "C'mere, Walker."

She giggled and padded over, crawling onto her knees on the bed and lying back against her own pillow. He rolled over immediately and snuggled close to her, tucking his face into the crook of her neck and shoulder. Chuck was like a warm blanket, his arms around her, his leg draped over hers. "You mind if I'm candid with you for a moment?"

She sent him a flat look and he chuckled. "Right right. Sorry. That's all we've been the last few days."

"Mm," she hummed in agreement, squeezing him a little tighter. "What is it, Chuck?"

"I can't remember a time when I was happier than I am right now, at this moment."

Sarah smiled and pressed her lips to his forehead. "Me too."

The train rocked back and forth as it sliced through the countryside, the moon shining brightly outside of their compartment window. But with the curtains drawn closed, the room dark and warm, it wasn't long before the couple both fell into a deep, all-encompassing sleep, wrapped snugly around one another.


A/N2 Thank you for reading! I would love to hear what you thought about it.