Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck.

This story starts immediately after the end of vs The Goodbye. Sarah and Chuck are forced to run from their spot on the beach. Sarah is forced to trust Chuck without her memories of the past five years.

The breeze off the ocean gusted, blowing the empty glass beer bottle over, causing it to roll along the concrete sidewalk running from the beach past the house to the parking area. The sound made an anxious Sarah twitch as she looked out the window towards the trees surrounding the few, asphalted parking spots.

For the umpteenth time in the past three hours Sarah slowly and cautiously made a perimeter check around the sparsely furnished house, clutching her combat knife in her right hand, her senses attuned to the slightest change in sound, movement or light. With no apparent threat present, Sarah returned to her spot on the couch where she could observe both the approach from the beach and the parking area without being observed from the outside.

Darkness came quickly with the setting of the sun and a gentle rainstorm moved in from the ocean. With her visibility reduced, Sarah's anxiousness increased, her sense of impending danger slowly raising her anxiety level. Breathing became more difficult, the feeling of a hand pressing down on her chest and her inability to have a full view of the approaches to the house were making a panic attack likely.

Sarah walked to the rear of the house and did a visual sweep of the beach. Not seeing any threats she slowly opened the door and stepped out onto the covered porch. She walked to the edge of the porch, placing her back against the wall and slowly let herself slide down the wall to a sitting position, her knees pulled up under her chin with her knife held out from her body as she watched the rain fall.

Breath deep and slow Sarah. Deep and Slow. Breath in. Breath out. Calm yourself. Let your senses be alert. Be aware of your surroundings. Be ready to fight. As the feeling of panic began to reside, Sarah reached a decision. He's got one more hour then I run. He promised I could trust him, but can I?

Her throat feeling dry from thirst, Sarah stood and slowly made her way back inside the house. She walked to the kitchen, opened a cabinet door and looked for a glass. Finding one she filled it with water from the sink and slowly drank until the glass was empty.

Returning to the couch, Sarah checked her few possessions and made sure her suitcase was by the back door. She was ready to run when the time came.

Checking her watch, Sarah watched as the minute hand moved steadily to the time she had determined she would run. Fifteen minutes more and she would flee. She felt torn, like she was being pulled in two within and the mental torment was almost unbearable.

Could she trust him? Would he protect her? Would he hurt her? Would she hurt him? She knew Sarah Bartowski loved Chuck with all her heart, but she wasn't Sarah Bartowski anymore. Chuck loved that Sarah. Could he love this Sarah? Would he protect the Sarah she was? Would he love her?

The not knowing the answers to these questions, the very questions that ran through her mind constantly whether she was awake or dreaming, haunted her. Further pushed her towards doing what Sarah Walker did when trouble became too dangerous, she ran.

Enough. Better to end this now and run. Chuck will be safer and so will I. So will Chuck's family and friends. Better to just end it so everyone can move on with their lives. Sarah stood and moved slowly, silently towards her suitcase.

Hearing the sound of shoes scuffing the sidewalk coming from the beach, Sarah dropped into a fighting stance, holding her knife in front of her, ready to strike. She moved slowly into the far corner of the room where she could see the door clearly but was shrouded from view by the shadows in the room. She fought to control her breathing, to remain calm and focused. Sarah chose to become Sarah Walker at that moment. She was ready to kill.

Two gentle knocks on the door disrupted the sound of the gentle rain falling on the house, breaking the otherwise silent soundscape. A long pause was followed by two more gentle knocks on the door. Sarah watched as the doorknob slowly turned and the door swung inward inch by inch.

Chuck's voice traveled through the door, "Sarah? Sarah? I'm back. I am sorry it took so long."

Chuck took a step inside the house and stopped. "Sarah, are you here?" The tension in his voice was evident, fearful.

"I'm here," Sarah whispered, still ready to fight or flee.

Chuck stepped into the room, carrying a bag of groceries in his left hand, his tranq gun in his right. He wore a heavily laden backpack. Shutting the door with his foot, Chuck stepped towards the light switch and flicked on the room lights.

In an instant Sarah flew across the room and flicked the lights off. "What are you trying to do, get us killed" she hissed at Chuck, brandishing her knife at him. "The lights will silhouette us to any sniper watching!"

Chuck flinched and stepped away, nearly dropping the bag of groceries. He was soaking wet, dripping water on the floor, his hair normally neatly groomed, plastered to his head. "Sarah, it's ok. You're right about the lights. Let's draw the curtains and go in the kitchen. No one will see us in there," he calmly said.

Sarah backed up a step, watching Chuck with her enforcer's glare, still in a combat stance, wary and ready to strike.

Chuck slowly walked to the kitchen and set the bag of groceries and his tranq gun down on the counter before shrugging off the backpack and setting it on the floor. Running his hands through his wet hair, Chuck returned to the living room and without looking at Sarah began to draw the curtains at each window, throwing the room into even greater darkness. Sarah watched Chuck, slowly turning in the middle of the room, suspicious, uncertain and confused.

Chuck returned to the kitchen and took off his wet Buy More jacket and hung it on the hook by the door from the kitchen to the carport. He then cut on the kitchen light and sat down at the kitchen table. Opening his backpack, he looked up and motioned for Sarah to leave the dark living room and come to him, to sit with him in the light of the kitchen.

"It's ok Sarah. I brought dinner and I have something you'll like. Something of yours that you will remember," Chuck said softly.

Her feelings of anxiety and impending danger began to lessen. Sarah inched forward towards the kitchen, lowering her knife, still alert and ready to strike. She walked slowly to the table, unsure of herself, and sat down.

She looked at Chuck, her husband she could not remember. He smiled at her and did not move, sensing Sarah was frightened, that the Sarah sitting before him was more Agent Walker than Sarah, his wife.

"I promised you could trust me. I brought you something to help you do that. Actually, I have brought you several things. That's part of why I was gone so long," Chuck gently told her.

Chuck slowly moved his hand to his backpack. "I am going to reach in and begin removing things. Is that OK?"

Sarah nodded her head while tightening her grip on her knife. She wanted to trust Chuck. Her heart told her this man would not hurt her on purpose and if he could, he would do anything protect her. Sarah shook her head as the feelings of distrust and the need to strike again crept into her head. Agent Walker was trying to gain control of Sarah.

"Who opened fire at us on the beach? Why did you bring me here? What is going on? I want answers or I'm leaving. You said I could trust you. You told me our story and we kissed. Then bullets are flying everywhere. I let my guard down and I was nearly killed." Sarah paused before continuing. "Part of me wants to trust you. The other part of me wants to dispose of you and run."

"Sarah, this just breaks my heart. Again, I love you, I want to protect you, and yes, I want my wife back..But, you have a point." Chuck looked squarely into Sarah's eyes. His blonde angel looked frightened, yet determined. If nothing else, Sarah was a survivor.

"Here, I brought you this. I think you'll feel safer and I hope it will help you trust me a little more." Chuck slowly reached into his backpack and cautiously withdrew his hand, holding Sarah's favorite sidearm. Chuck extended his hand slowly, gripping the gun by its barrel, offering the gun to Sarah with the grip facing her.

Sarah looked from her pistol to Chuck and back. Swallowing, she set her knife down on the table and quickly reached for her side arm. She took it from Chuck, checked the breach and worked the slide. The gun was loaded and appeared to be in perfect working condition.

"I don't know if you rember this, but I really don't like guns. That's why I carry a tranq pistol. You on the other hand, like guns, not like Casey does, but you like them. I know that about you. I thought you might feel safer with your own pistol. It also gives you a definite advantage over me." Chuck fell silent, allowing the meaning and weight of what he had just done to sink in.

Sarah felt the tension in her body lessen ever so slightly. Chuck had just made a very dangerous concession, all to prove she could trust him. "I'm listening," she said.

"It would mean a great deal to me if you would consider carrying this with you." Chuck reached back into the backpack and withdrew a jewelry box. Sarah felt her heart quicken. It couldn't be her wedding band and engagement ring. She couldn't, and wouldn't put those back on. Not now.

Chuck opened the box and removed a charm bracelet. Sarah knew from their story it was a Christmas gift and was a significant symbol of their love, a part of their tempestuous courtship.

"Sarah, you used to love this. Carina loved to tease you about it. I loved seeing you wear it. So did Ellie and Mom. You don't have to wear it. But I want you to have it. It would make me feel a little more secure if you kept with your things. Would you do that for me?" Chuck's patient face showed a little bit of worry, causing Sarah to realize this was important to him, that it should be important to her as well.

"I'll keep it but I'm not going to wear it. Chuck, this is all…."

"Sarah, I get it. I just get insecure still. You helped me so much with gaining confidence. I just need a little boost right now, you know? You always protected us. You were the guardian and Casey had our back." Chuck paused, "Casey is gone now, stalking Gertrude as he likes to put it. Sarah, I have to protect us now. I am responsible for you now, for both of us. I know you think you can protect yourself without my help, but we don't even know who is hunting us. We need each other," Chuck pleaded.

Sarah took the bracelet and reached for the box. Placing the bracelet in the box and closing it, Sarah looked at Chuck, his eyes pleading. "Confidence is a good thing. If my keeping the box and the bracelet for now helps you, it is the least I can for you," Sarah told him. Chuck smiled and somehow keeping the bracelet in her possession felt good to Sarah.

"I brought you some clothes and sleepwear. I think I have all of your girly maintenance stuff as Casey calls it. It's been a long day. We are both tired. I have some perimeter warning devices we'll need to set and then let's get some sleep. Ok?" Chuck looked at her, hoping he had allayed some of her fears, restored just a little trust.

"Well, I do seem to recall you can't cook and it's raining. You set the warning devices while I make dinner." Sarah smiled at him and stood, walking to the counter to see what Chuck and brought for them to eat.

"I see how it is, some things don't change, memory loss or not," Chuck said with a smile, putting on his wet jacket and picking up his backpack.

After dinner:

Sarah put the last of the leftovers in the refrigerator and whipped down the counter one last time. Leaving the kitchen she turned off the light. In the other wing of the house Sarah could hear Chuck in the shower. She walked to the bedroom and looked through her suitcase and the few things Chuck had brought for her to wear. She carefully placed the box containing the bracelet in a side pocket of the suitcase before picking out a pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt, Sarah suddenly tossed them aside and pulled out a pretty nightgown that would fall just below the top of her thigh.

Sarah felt the anxiety return suddenly, a knot forming in her abdomen and the butterflies began to flutter and take flight. She backed up from the bed, staring at the t-shirt and boxer shorts and the feminine nightshirt. Why was the sight of her clothes causing her to panic?

Sarah slowly reached out and picked up her nightgown. It was not brand new and she could see where the shoulder strap had been sewn back on. Evidently it had been removed a little too quickly in the past and sewn back on. The thought caused her breath to catch and she brought her hand to her mouth.

Sarah tossed the nightie back on the bed and picked up the boxer shorts. They were covered in stormtrooper helmets. These were Chucks! She tossed them quickly back on the bed. She picked up the t-shirt. It was an extra-large and had a Delorean on the front. Also Chucks. But these weren't from the backpack. They had come from her suitcase. She had packed these. Sarah picked the t-shirt back up and held it to her face. She could smell the faintest trace of her perfume. She had slept in this before. When she was Sarah Bartowski, Chuck's wife.

Sarah heard the water in the shower turn off. Chuck would be out in just a minute. She had to decide what to wear for bed. The boxers and t-shirt looked comfortable but she didn't want to communicate the sense of familiarity they would convey to Chuck.

Sarah slipped out her clothes quickly and slipped the nightgown on. Sarah looked in the mirror and gulped. This was not a good idea either. Her cleavage was exposed and enhanced by the cut of the top, the bottom barely covering her. No wonder the strap had been pulled off.

Sarah quickly slipped the nightgown off and put on the Delorean t-shirt and left her panties on. She tossed the boxers and nightgown in her suitcase and shut it before slipping between the blankets. Lying flat on her back, Sarah pulled the blankets up to her chin, grasping the edge of the bedcovers with hands.

Chuck walked into the bedroom with his pajama pants on and a white undershirt, his hair unruly from being towel dried, his toothbrush protruding from his mouth. He smiled and mumbled while brushing his teeth and then turned and left the room. Sarah heard him rinse his mouth and his toothbrush.

The light in the hall winked out and Chuck poked his head into the bedroom and looked squarely at Sarah. "I want you to be comfortable. It is important to me to establish with you, the fact you can trust me. The gunfire at our spot on the beach was a major setback to establishing that trust." Chuck smiled one of his sweet, loving smiles.

"The choice is yours Sarah. I will sleep on the couch if you want. If you would feel safer with me in the bedroom with you, I will sleep on the floor." Chuck smiled again and waited for Sarah to make her decision.

Sarah sensed this was an important choice. Not just for her protection, but for restoring trust. Agent Walker struggled to tell Chuck to sleep on the couch. Sarah decided she wanted to Chuck to sleep in the bedroom with her. Before she could make up her mind, Sarah heard herself say "please sleep in the bedroom. I would feel a little safer."

Chuck beamed a huge smile and quickly left the bedroom. A puzzled Sarah listened to Chuck's quick footsteps enter the kitchen and return. Chuck stopped in the doorway and looked at her, smiling. In his left hand he held her pistol and in his right he held her knife. "Here, you usually slept with this knife under your pillow," Chuck told her, extending her two weapons to her. Sarah gratefully accepted both, tucking the knife quickly under her pillow and setting the pistol on the bedside table.

Chuck walked to the closet and opened the door, turning on the closet light. Sarah heard noises in the close and suddenly two pillows flew out, followed by some blankets. Sarah lifted her head and asked, "Chuck, what are you doing?"

Chuck stuck his head out and told her, "the floor is not comfortable. I want to get some rest you know, hence the blankets, pillows, you know."

Feeling anxious for a reason she could not explain, Sarah looked at the floor. Something from the dark recesses of her mind caused her to say, "Chuck, I'm not going to make you sleep on the floor. It's gross. If you try anything funny, I'm armed and dangerous." Chuck laughed and broke into a huge grin.

"I'll keep that in mind Agent Walker. I give you my word, no funny stuff on my part," he said with a laugh.

Sarah, sensing Chuck was laughing at her, felt a bit annoyed. "What's so funny, Chuck," she demanded.

Chuck moved to the laptop, checking the warning system he had set up. He moved to the light switch and smiled at Sarah before telling her "you've told me something similar to that before. Now I like gross bedroom floors. Oh, and Sarah, one more thing."

"What Chuck?"

"We both sleep better if you're on the other side of the bed."

Chuck cut the lights out.