summary: In a world where everyone is connected to their soulmate at some point in their life, through writing on their skin, Chuck hadn't really thought a mathematical formula would be the thing to indicate he's met his. Either way, for the rest of his life, he's connected to a kind girl with a dozen names, who travels all around the country. And they might just fall for each other along the way. AU, following Chuck and Sarah from high school to the pilot.

a/n: Greetings, pals! Happy May; I hope you're all doing well in this crazy world of ours. So, remember when I finished Fall With You and said I had a lot of fics written, I just had to work out which one to edit and post? Well, this is not any of those fics. This came to me literally at 2:45am one night last month, I blurted out the first section, immediately went to sleep, and then couldn't stop writing this giant old thing for about 48 hours straight. A lot of editing later, here we are. I honestly don't know where the idea came from, I've never thought of writing a soulmate AU before, I don't have a particular penchant for reading them, either, no more than any other type of fic, so if I've stolen someone's concept that's totally unintentional. This thing just didn't wanna stop. It's pretty different, more just a sorta snapshot journey through Chuck and Sarah's lives, and I like to think it's sweet, if somewhat cliché, but like, the nice kind of cliché. I did try to split it in two or elaborate on some bits to make it into a multi-chapter, but in the end I just decided it works better all together, and it's all already here, so hopefully you guys agree!
Oh, and I had to fudge a couple timeline things to make events work better, so Chuck and Sarah are the same age, ish, and some later career things are probably a little out of order. But nothing too major, I promise. Y'all are so often awesome with your feedback to me, so I hope you'll leave a review on the way out of this to let me know what you think!
disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, mathematical formula, biros, or inexplicable natural phenomena.

There isn't really any logic to it. There are no clear rules, rhyme or reason, much to the despair of the experts. The doctors who write books, trying to understand it all, and the people who try to monopolise off a fact of life, spread lies and crazy ideas about how to ensure you get the best person and how to align the stars, they think they've got it all figured out. And the conspiracy theorists who think it's all a government scheme, brainwashing, they do, too. But nobody really understands it, nobody gets why it happens, or how, they just know it does, and always has done.
The fact is: everyone has a soulmate. And every thing written upon your skin, appears on your soulmate's. For some people it's permanent, a tattoo that stays with them their whole life. An imprint. For others, it fades fast, barely a scratch. For some people, it starts happening right when they turn fourteen- never before that, according to records, but sometimes right then. Sometimes, it doesn't happen until you're old and wisened and the words are almost illegible on your wrinkled skin. Some people use the writing to speak, learn things, arrange time and dates to meet up. Others firmly believe in letting destiny take its course, they share quick, fleeting, words, wait to someday find each other. For some people, their soulmate is romantic, the great love of their life, their fate. For others, it's platonic, their best friend, their coworker. And for some, it's the chance encounter, the stranger on the street who smiled at them one day, never to be seen again.

Chuck Bartowski just wishes he could figure it out.

He's two days past sixteen when it first happens. He's just in English class one day, a little bored by Shakespeare, when he looks down at his palm, and suddenly, the quadratic formula is written right in the center of his palm. He blinks at it, confused, wondering why on earth he wrote it. He knows the equation by heart, and he's not studying it right now, so it's hardly helpful, especially in English. When he tries to scrub it off, smear the blue ink, he realizes his pen is black, and the symbols on his skin won't budge. And just like that, he knows what's happening, and so he curls his hand into a fist, raises his other one, heads to the bathroom, and freaks the hell out.

It's twenty minutes before it fades. He sees the words have blurred a little with time, spiders-webbed through his skin, and he realizes he now knows two things about his soulmate: they take math, and they have sweaty palms. He just thanks god their writing isn't permanent- the quadratic formula would be a crappy tattoo.

But evidently, his soulmate was writing that down, today, having no idea today would be their day. Exchange day. The first day the words appear and they get connected. Since nobody knows when it'll happen, some people write hello on their hand every day from turning fourteen, in hope, and some people, just write like normal. Shopping lists, cell phone numbers, notes to remind themselves, other random, normal reasons. So his soulmate just needed to remember that formula, and it's not a jump, to Chuck, to work out why.

He waits until he gets home to do anything, just bundles past Ellie and dives into his room and grabs a pen. He doesn't know if it'll work- he has no clue where this person is, and since their reading window is twenty minutes, if they're asleep or just not looking, this could be fruitless.
But he takes a deep breath, rolls up his sleeve, touches the tip of the biro to his wrist.

How was your test?

He sits, waits, for ten minutes. No response. He could give up, but he tries again, writes under his first words.

I know this is weird. I freaked out earlier. The formula on your hand showed up in my English class today. I guessed you had a test, how'd it go?

Another minute passes with no reply, and he realizes, rather suddenly, that his soulmate might be left handed, or writing anywhere but their right arm. They could write really anywhere, and he could miss it. He tugs off his shirt, figuring that covers the likely bases, and waits.
It's all for naught. After another minute, blue ink fades in, below his own words, creeping up the inside of his elbow.

It was fine, thanks.

He grins. Just like that, he's got himself a soulmate.

He doesn't really know what to do, to say- how does one introduce themselves to their soulmate, after all? He scrubs off his initial biro message, writes over the space, thankful for probably the first time that he'd had that growth spurt the other year. The longer his arms, the more space they have to write on.

Hi, he scrawls. I'm Chuck, Chuck Bartowski.
He doodles a little smiley face after it, hoping that'll make them smile.

Sam, they say, and he blinks. That could be a guy, so perhaps this is platonic, then; will a guy called Sam soon be his best friend? He'd be fine with that, but he doesn't know how Morgan will react. They've been friends so long, Chuck doesn't know if the little guy would cope well with being replaced. He watches, sees as more writing appears. But you can call me Katie.

He grins at the words, feels his heart flutter in his chest. Katie. It's a nice name. Sounds pretty young, too, and with her testing being on simple quadratics he figures she's around his age. But he doesn't want to just ask that outright. So he lowers his pen once more, and just says, It's nice to sorta-meet you, Katie.

Her own smiley face appears a moment later, and he grins yet again.

"Chuck, please don't tell me Morgan's c-" His bedroom door swings open, and his head shoots up to find Ellie standing there, looking rumpled in her work uniform. She blinks, and he smiles a little awkwardly. He's sitting shirtless upon his bed, he must look quite the sight. "What are you doing?"

"Uh." He lifts his arm, turns it round so she can see the writing on the inside, black and blue. "It happened, El,"

Her eyes bug, and she rushes toward him.
"Oh my god, Chuck!" She tugs on his arm, and he giggles a little while faking pain at the move. He watches as she reads the words upon his skin, eyes intent, then looks up at him with a grin. "Congratulations, little brother,"

He laughs as she throws her arms around him in a hug. She'd had her exchange day when she was almost eighteen, a guy called Devon who kept saying everything was awesome, so they'd all been surprised when she'd started med school the other month to find that awesome guy in her class. Chuck had been grossed out when Ellie had mentioned how they'd skipped class, but he also knows, meeting your soulmate is a big deal. Especially when it's a surprise, like that. He hopes meeting Katie is like that. A surprise.

The front door swings open loudly, and she looks over from the kitchen counter with a raised eyebrow. She'd made dinner for herself, something she's done for years now, since her dad had told her he'd be out late. But now he's back early, and that's rarely a good sign.

"Hey, darlin'," he calls, as he hurries down the hall. She tugs down her sleeve instantly, covering over the words there. He can't know. She won't let him know. Her father had once told her that a soulmate was just another person to take advantage of, someone else to be a sucker, blinded by their connection. She won't let Chuck become that, she has to keep him safe from her father's grasp. She had no idea that kinda cheating in her math test today would lead her to her soulmate, but she already knows, she likes him. He made her smile. She looks down at her empty dinner plate absentmindedly, knowing what's coming from her Dad. Another disappointment. "Change of plans, things went south."

She nods.
"I'll get the bags,"

When they leave, ten minutes later, all that's left of Katie O'Connell is an empty plate and a blue pen, sitting on the kitchen counter.

Actually, she writes, later, in a motel room when her Dad is fast asleep in the next bed. She'd been far too relieved to find cheap stationery in their room. Call me Rebecca.

Okay comes back, with another smiley face, and she grins yet again. Anyone would question that. Question her many names. She's not sure why she'd told him Sam right away, since it's been years since she's answered to that name, but something honest and truthful had risen within her when he'd said his name, rambled a little and asked about her test. Sometimes, in this life, she wonders if her honesty has all but fled her. But her soulmate, of all people, needs to know who she is, deserves that. And so she'd told him, and now she's told him two other names, too, and he's just accepted it. And yeah, she thinks, she really likes Chuck.

He sighs as he looks around at the various papers on his desk. He doesn't mind Chemistry, but it's kicking his butt right now, and he'd much rather hit the arcade with Morgan than suffer through this. But he needs this report written, and he also might have another motive for turning down his best friend's offer to hang out. Rebecca. Or, more accurately, Rebecca-Katie-Sam. She seems to like changing names, but Chuck doesn't mind. Her name doesn't matter. It's that she's the one whose writing appears on his skin, that does.
Morgan's a little jealous, Chuck knows that. He'd told the little guy, because he felt he should and also, in some ways, he couldn't keep it inside. It's exciting, being put in contact with your soulmate. But Chuck's also one of the earliest in their class to be connected, he's young by most standards, and he's tried to keep it under wraps, a little. Keep it to himself and his friends, Ellie. Keep it special, and, as he's always happiest, keep himself unimportant. Morgan's complied, happily not telling anyone. Chuck thinks, deep down, the little guy was maybe hoping the two of them were soulmates, destined to be best friends forever. But Morgan's day still hasn't come, and that's also caused the recently-bearded one to be a little annoyed, too. It's easy to be jealous when your best friend has found their soulmate, and you haven't. It's just a matter of waiting.

He groans as he gets stuck again, pushing back in his chair and staring at his Tron poster, hoping it'll send him some encouragement. Maybe the spirit of his Dad, the great engineer, will help him. Not that he's dead (at least, Chuck doesn't think he is), but he's gone, out there, somewhere, seeking his soulmate who one day just left her husband and two young children with zero warning and a broken necklace. Their Mom left a long time ago, and eventually, Stephen Bartowski left too. Not every soulmate story has a happy ending. Chuck wonders if his and Rebecca's will be that.

Looking down at his arm, he wills words to come, but they haven't said much since she'd changed her name. He guesses she's been busy, with whatever it is she does.

Pouting at his report, he picks up his pen.
You there? he says, written on his wrist.

It's my arm, I'm always here.

He laughs at that, grins, warmed by the thought. It's strange to think that, for the rest of his life, she'll be there. To talk to, to joke with. For the rest of his life. He's still a teenager, yet, the idea of such permanence doesn't scare him. It's reassuring, in fact. To know her forever. He looks at his report, pulls a face; they might have forever, but right now, he's got to finish this thing.
Need some help.

What can I do? she replies, instantly, words winding under his.

Writing chem report. Good with the math, bad with the putting it into sentences. I've used 'therefore' five times already.

Thus fades in, and he hums at her suggestion. He could use it, he guesses, even if it sounds a little pretentious for his liking. He's about to say thanks when more words appear. Consequently. Accordingly. Ergo. Resultantly.

Okay! he scrawls, before she can write anymore. Didn't realize you were a thesaurus as well as my soulmate

He gets a winking face in reply, and can't help but smile.

She smiles when, in the middle of her art class, a grid appears on her wrist, waiting, no attached note.
She fills in an O with her paintbrush, and holds back a full-on grin once the game begins.

He completes an X while she begins sketching the apple in front of her; she paints in an O again while she starts the shading. Some kids around her narrow their eyes, whisper amongst themselves, and she ignores them, as she has done ever since she and Chuck first connected. She's heard the jealous rumors, the lies spread about her, tall tales about her soulmate, where they are, or how she managed to connect to someone so young. Because the truth is, she's had her exchange day, and a lot of other kids haven't, and sometimes, they get jealous about that. But her, no, she gets a friend. A contact, all the time. They don't talk all the time, sometimes they're busy, sometimes he just writes a little joke on her hand, just for her, which makes her feel so special it's almost stupid. And sometimes, they just play tic-tac-toe. And she loves it.

Chuck's hers. Her soulmate, and only her soulmate. Nobody else gets to do this, with him, share this kind of connection. And she lives such a strange, solitary life, moving all over the country, making connections and then breaking them. Chuck, is her permanence.

"Miss Franco?" Her art teacher asks, condescending, and she drops her smile as she looks up at him, tugging her sleeve down, a force of habit.

"Yes, sir?"

"If you're quite finished procrastinating?"

She blinks.
"I am," she lies. But he walks away, satisfied, and she waits ten minutes as she keeps shading the apple. After that, she makes sure nobody's watching, turns her sleeve down a little, and sees his complementing X. If she fills in her last O, she's won, but instead she grabs a pen, lowers it to her palm, writes out while staring the apple down and pretending to be trying to understand the shadows on it better.

You're getting me in trouble in class, you know

So are you he replies, with a somehow cheeky looking smiley face, and she suppresses a chuckle. At least he makes her laugh.

I saw what you said earlier, I just couldn't find anything to write with. But nice job on your test!

He smiles as the words appear on his arm a little ways through dinner with Ellie. They're just small on his wrist, but his sister must spy them, for when he's finished his pasta she nudges his leg under the table.

"Go, talk to her." she says, softly, and he frowns.

"Ellie, it's Mother's Day."
It's their day. Soulmate or no, they have a tradition, a routine. Devon isn't here, Morgan isn't allowed. Why should Rebecca be, either?

She shrugs, smiles warmly.
"I know. But today's all about celebrating us, right? And the fact that we can survive by ourselves, that we can be happy without her?" He nods, and she points at his wrist. "She makes you happy, Chuck. And she's got no connection to mom, or dad. We've got our soulmates all by ourselves."

He grins. Really, they've gotten them through an inexplicable natural phenomenon that pairs two people up as fated to connect together, but still.
"Yeah, I guess..." he says, warming to her reasoning, but still wanting to give his sister an out, a chance to change her mind. They only have each other, really, and days like today are important, for them to support each other, remind themselves that they can do this, keep doing this, surviving, succeeding, without their parents. And he doesn't want to just leave Ellie alone, to contemplate all that, their crappy upbringing, the sadness they've fought.

His sister just keeps smiling, though, and nods her head in the direction of his room.
"So go, talk."

Though he waits a little longer, makes sure his sister really is okay, she just stares him down, and eventually he nods. He does wash up his plate before he heads into his room, but he figures that's just courteous.

He flops onto his bed, rolls his left sleeve up as he always seems to do now.
Thanks! he says, with a smiley face. And it's cool, I've been busy too.

What with? she writes, and though he debates telling her or not, he figures if anyone should know about his family, his life, it's his soulmate. They've avoided getting too into things, about their lives, partly because it's hard to condense a lifetime into a couple of words to write down on limited space, but he knows this is important. And it makes more sense to tell her now, let her know, than to only tell her after they meet, when they'll already know so much about each other.

Mother's Day. Long story. Anniversary of the day my mom left my sister & I

Oh, I'm sorry

It's fine, it's not sad. We celebrate our independence. He throws in a smiley again, since they seem to do those a lot, lightens things up. What have you been doing?

Packing boxes. We're moving. Again. We move a lot.

He raises an eyebrow at that.
Huh. That must be cool. I've only ever been in Burbank.

It's not that fun. she says, and he frowns a little. It's just my Dad and I, and we move so quickly sometimes I don't get used to one place or get to know anyone before we go to another.

Oh. Okay, that, frankly, sucks. All his friends are here, in Burbank, if he somehow had to leave, he'd hate it. But he'd especially hate if they just kept moving, and he never got a chance to really make any friends, anywhere. He'd have Ellie, he guesses, but Rebecca only has her Dad, and he doesn't think that's quite the same. Ellie might be motherly to him, but she's still his sister, and they get along like siblings, they tease each other, they have fun. Chuck doesn't know what his life would be like if his Mom had taken Ellie when she'd left, and it had become just him and his oh so distant father. If Stephen had still left, too...

Yeah, that really blows. Even as he writes it he hears how stupidly empty it sounds. Nothing he could say would make it better for her, he knows that, but he still feels ridiculously useless, right now. Sighing, he keeps writing, trying to cheer her up. But hey, you've got me, you know that? If you're feeling lonely or like you don't know anyone, you can talk to me. Anytime, I promise.

Thank you. she writes, and he grins.

No problem.
And with that, they chat a little more. Because when they do meet, whenever that may be, he wants to know her. Her likes, her dislikes. Her favorite movie, favorite band. She's his soulmate, after all.

It's Jenny now. she writes one afternoon, her first in San Diego. The sun is warm, warmer than Chicago had just been, at least, but she can't enjoy it. Not when they're here for another con. Another lie. Another name, another life. She's so tired of running all the time. Especially when her soulmate is the sweetest, funniest guy, who stays in the same place all the time and just goes by Chuck.

She sighs as she waits to see if he'll reply, looking around her sparsely decorated bedroom, unimpressed. They don't even try to make a home anywhere, nowadays. As long as there's a room, as long as there's enough to pass a cover to the neighbors, that's enough for Jack Burton, as he's now called. Jack and Jenny- it's almost laughable, to her. It doesn't even sound real, because it's not.

Alright, he says, because of course he does. He never asks about the name changes. She doesn't even tell him all of them- he'd kept calling her Rebecca even in their last place, when people there had called her Charlotte. But this one's a long con, she's destined to be Jenny Burton until she finishes high school, if everything goes well. As ever, she feels she owes it to Chuck to at least be candid. You okay?

Yeah. Tired, bored.

Why don't you head out somewhere? See a movie?

She smiles at the idea, but it falls quickly, and she sighs.
We just moved again, I don't know anyone.

Well, like I said, you've got me.

I know. I'm glad.
And she really is. At least she's got Chuck. She doesn't know how she'd get through this without him, being there, someone to talk to when the world feels crushingly lonely, when there's nobody else who cares. But that doesn't mean he'd be much company watching a movie in a theater, it's too dark to see her arm in there, let alone any writing.

She flops back onto her bed, stares at the ceiling.
Tell me about your day? she scrawls along her palm, just wanting to know about his normal life, what he's done today. Sometimes she imagines what it would be like if she could do the same.

As she waits for his response, she sees words peeking out beneath her sleeve at her elbow, and tugs off her shirt to see his writing beginning at her shoulder, tumbling down her arm.
Had school. Passed my physics class, by the way. Watched Star Wars with Morgan, again. My video's getting all faded, I need to get another copy. Again. She giggles at that. Still can't believe you haven't watched it. I'll show it to you one day, promise.

She grins. He's promised that for a while now. It's kind of why she's stayed away from watching it herself. She wants to watch it with him.

I hope that's soon. she says, before she can really think about it. But she's surprised to find it's the complete truth. When she's finished, here, when she turns eighteen, she could stay with her Dad, sure, but she could go off by herself, make her own way. Make her way to Chuck, if she wants. Since her options will probably be staying in this awful, lonely life, stay lying and conning and stealing, or meeting her soulmate, she thinks the choice will be a pretty easy one, when it comes.
But that's not today, that's months from now, well into this Burton con. So she doesn't mention any of that, and instead, waits for Chuck.

Same here.

Something new and very unfamiliar tugs in her chest. She ignores it, moves on.
How are your college applications going?

As he scrawls out his response about Stanford, his hope for a scholarship, she just lies there, reading his words, knowing more than ever what she's going to do when she finishes high school, where she's going to go, and who she's going to meet.

When he gets home from school and sees the letter sitting on his doormat, he picks it up, rushes through to his room. Ellie's out, working late, which means it's just him. He tears open the envelope, reads over the words, and almost drops it when he sees the acceptance. Stanford, on a full scholarship. He did it. Without parents, against all odds, he did it.

His first thought is just to pick up his pen.

I got into Stanford he tells her, hand trembling. Her reply is speedy, hurried.

Oh my god, Chuck! After a beat, she adds more exclamation points, and he laughs, sees as more words fade in. That's amazing. I'm so proud of you.

Thanks. This is crazy, Ellie isn't here yet, I didn't know who else to tell.

I'm the first?

He grins, nods though she can't see it.
You're the first.

Thank you. She draws a little heart and he pretends it doesn't send his pulse spiraling. Seriously, this is awesome.

He chuckles.
I bet that's what Devon will say. How about you? Have you decided anything yet?

Where he's always known college is what he wanted to do, and engineering and computers is his field, Jenny's a little less sure. He figures it's probably just because she's good at so many things, she can't choose just one. Her future is a little more uncertain, than his.
No, not yet. I've got some ideas, it just depends where I end up.

Well, let me know. I wanna know where my soulmate ends up for the future.
Maybe she'll end up near Stanford, maybe that's where they're destined to meet. Either way, he knows that after high school they both gain an independence they'll never have had before. They could, if they wanted to, go find each other. Seek each other out, rather than waiting for destiny. He doesn't know what he wants. He doesn't know, even, if he thinks they're romantic soulmates or not. He just knows he likes her, a lot.

I'll tell you. I promise.

When she finds herself in a car, being driven from San Diego with a box of cash on her knees, she spies words appearing on her arm. Instantly, she tugs down her cardigan sleeves, tries not to panic. The CIA know everything about her. Her previous names, previous lives, her crimes, all the lies she's told. But they don't seem to know about Chuck. Evidently, the conspiracy theorists are wrong; the government don't control soulmates. They don't seem to know she's talking to hers- they don't seem to have a clue they're in contact. And she wants to keep it that way. She has no idea what they could do, what this imposing Director in the passenger seat right now, would do. If she's going to be a spy, and she thinks that's what she's signed up to do, just now, if she's going to get a new identity, a new purpose, then she's probably supposed to leave everything behind. All ties, everyone who knew her. There are so few of those, but of them all, Chuck is by far the biggest tie.

She won't risk him, she won't. She won't let him be torn away, she won't let them force her to ignore him, never read his words, never reply. She needs him. She needed him between every new name and place, she needs him now, in another.

In the hotel they put her in, an armed guard standing watch outside just in case she decides to run away to nowhere, she cries. A lot. Terrified for her future, her safety, this life she's signed up for. Saddened that her father, for all his flaws and misgivings, his terrible ability to be a parent, has been arrested. Frightened for Chuck. And when she can cry no more, she does what she always does in times like these. She finds a pen.

I got a job offer. she writes, following the words the Director had told her to say to anyone who asked where she was going, what she was doing. Apparently her official records will say she's attended college, but that's just a lie. She'll be working, training, in this new job, and though there could be some college-level classes too, everything she learns will be to help her in the CIA. She pretends that's a good thing, and pretends this job really was an offer and not something she'd basically been forced into. Pretends she isn't lying to her soulmate, of all people.

That's awesome! Where?

DC. I saw this guy at a careers fair a while back, I applied. I figured it's best to get away from my Dad while I can. All the lies turn her stomach, but pretending she's left her Dad by choice hurts the most, somehow. She wanted to tell him she was out. The broken arms, the fake identities, the pain, the thieving, she wanted to tell him she was done with all of it. But the government have taken that chance from her, and ensured she'll probably never even see him for years. None of that was in her plan. She sighs, keeps lying, like always. It's a good opportunity

Wow, Chuck writes, clearly happy for her, and her insides turn, sickened, even more. My girl in the capital, kicking butt. This is so cool.

She can't help but smile, tearily. His girl.
I think I'm gonna be busy, it should be fun.

Well, don't forget about me, okay? Ole' Chuck, wasting away at Stanford...

She laughs at his dramatics, then realizes that was probably his intention. It worked. It always works.
Nerd. she writes, teasing, but he's called himself it enough for her to know he loves it.

Yup.

Oh, one more thing. Call me Sarah. I think this one's gonna last.

He sends a smiley face, and a heart, and she wonders why she's surprised her soulmate is the most important person in her life.
I like this one he says, and she grins.

And suddenly, she knows, no matter what other names she may have to use in this life, no matter if Sarah Walker sticks or not, this will always be the name she'll use, with Chuck. She'll always be Sarah Walker to him. Because in this moment, him making her smile, thinking she's got a job offer, that's all she wants to be.

Stanford is fun. Exhausting, but fun. He meets Bryce Larkin in the quad, looking more put-together than any other student, playing catch, and they click instantly, bond over tough classes and old video games. They get along like old friends, so similar it's almost weird, to Chuck. He's only truly befriended someone so quickly once before, really, and that was Sarah. Maybe Morgan, too. And when Bryce offers to introduce Chuck to Jill Roberts, he doesn't think to say no.
When she writes her dorm address on the back of his hand, phone number below it, and signs it with three kisses, he starts to regret things.

You should call her. Sarah says, that night, when the words are still on his hand but will have faded from hers, long ago. Sarah's words stretch over his wrist, the inside of his arm, in her familiar handwriting. He prefers it to Jill's writing, he knows that much.

I don't think so. he replies, sighing. She's nice, but I don't know

Don't undersell yourself, Chuck. I know for a fact, you're very charming.

Though that makes his heart flip over itself, he rolls his eyes.
You're my soulmate, you have to say that

That's not why I'm saying it.
His heart flips again. Sometimes he wonders if Sarah knows just quite what she does to him.

See now I just really don't wanna call her. She doesn't reply, and he sighs. Yeah, that was a bit much, considering they never seem to address just what they are to each other. They're soulmates, but they don't seem to do anything about that, and with him in California and Sarah in DC and traveling, too, for her new job, he doesn't think they're destined to find each other anytime soon. Sorry.

It's okay.

It's not, really. He crossed the line they never mention. The one between them that sometimes blares 'romantic' over and over like a siren. Yet they never force it.
How's work? he says, instead, trying to change the subject.

Good. I'm still training, my supervisors seem happy though

That's good he tries, but it feels awkward. Stilted. When she says she has to go, he turns his arm over, looks at that unfamiliar handwriting, the number yet again.
Jill might not be his soulmate, but she's here. She's nice, and pretty, and nerdy, and she likes him. And though he'll wait for Sarah, he knows he will, he can't spend his whole life until then waiting and not living. And so he picks up his phone, and calls Jill.

Training has been tough, harsh, beyond difficult. She aches in places she didn't know possible, there are bruises coating every limb, and for once, she's glad not everything transfers to her soulmate. Chuck would be concerned, she thinks, at the marks littering her skin.

Not that she's really spoken to him much, recently. He's dating Jill, she knows, and he's busy with classes, while she's been running around the world, on missions, shadowing agents, conducting work that really, no one as young as her should be doing, no one should be doing at all, frankly. Neither she nor Chuck, though, are really in places where lengthy conversations with their soulmate would be a good idea. She might make things awkward for Chuck, with Jill. God, if they were in the middle of something, and something Sarah says just appears on his arm with no warning, that'd be beyond awkward. And he could write something identifying that would reveal her to her enemies or her bosses and endanger them both. It's not quite the same thing or with the same stakes, but they're problems nonetheless.
She can't deny, she's jealous. Not just of his relationship, that too, maybe, but mostly just of his life. His normality. She's never been normal. And when Langston Graham found her in the forest that day, she got even less so.

She sighs as she slips between the sheets, sleepily, the Paris skyline outside her window shining bright. Out of habit, she glances down to her arms, usually finding them blank, but tonight, there's something written there.

Hey he says. Been a while.

Even as his presence makes her smile, she sighs a little. Reaching to her bedside table, she picks up the free hotel pen.
Yeah, it has. How are you?

I'm okay. Tired. Jill and I had a fight.

She winces.
Do you wanna talk about it?

Not really. My arm only has so much space, y'know. I wouldn't wanna put all that on you, anyways.

She smiles despite herself- he's always so thoughtful. But she forces herself to offer again, even though there are few things she'd enjoy less than talking her soulmate through a fight he's had with his girlfriend.
It's okay, if you want to.

Nah. he writes, and she can't help but sigh relievedly, and then be instantly glad he can't see or hear her. How are you? Still jetting everywhere?

I suppose she says, snorting a little. But it's nowhere near as glamorous as you make it sound.

Oh, I don't know. You're involved, aren't you?
She wonders how just handwritten words can seem cheeky. Though she doesn't even have a face to put to his writing, she imagines him smirking, writing that.

You flatter me an awful lot for someone who's never met me she replies, chuckling again, but his words fade in.

No, I'm just sure of it.

Her breath hitches at that. His surety, kindness, affection. Maybe more than that. And at that, she sighs. They need to stop. He may have had a fight with his girlfriend, but that doesn't mean they're not dating, that doesn't mean he's suddenly dating Sarah. That doesn't mean they can do this. No matter if they could, no matter that they're soulmates, she's an agent for the CIA, now, she can't have attachments, can't have friends. She's tried her damnedest to keep Chuck a secret, keep him distant and keep his words to her covered. And so far, she's succeeded, thankfully. But she knows someday, somehow, someone could find out. Someone could discover her weakness. Someone could exploit that. And she needs to keep that day at bay for as long as she possibly can.

You should talk to Jill, she makes herself write, even if it hurts. After a couple minutes, his words fade in.

I will. Thanks, Sarah.

Always she says, truthfully. She'll always be here for him to talk to. But, not for the first time, she wonders if that's all she's destined to be. Just a sounding board. A reminder. Someone to talk to. And maybe nothing more.

A doodle appears, one day. An uncharacteristically cute, lazy, ambling doodle, trailing across his palm, along his wrist, dipping into flowers and hearts and swirls. It's sweet. And, bizarre. He's been connected to Sarah for years now and she's never done anything like this before.

Sorry she explains, later. When the scribble has faded and he's no longer trying to awkwardly hide his hand under his desk in his engineering lecture. Twenty minutes seems a lifetime when you're in a t-shirt in a heavily populated room. Really boring meeting.

He narrows his eyes at her excuse.
Really?

Yeah

Okay, calling you out on that, Sarah. You don't doodle.
Perhaps it's a little presumptive, but at the same time, he thinks he knows his soulmate. And she's bound to have had a boring meeting before, and she's never done this.

Fine. she admits, and he tries not to feel a little proud at that. I was trying to make someone think I wasn't paying attention to them

That seems a little uncharacteristic to him, too, but he can tell she's avoiding saying something else.
What kinda someone?

A guy.
Annnd, there it is. He quashes the stupid jealousy that immediately starts to rise in him, writes out a reply, trying to be casual.

Ah. he says, then instantly winces, knowing that was anything but casual.

Okay, this feels really weird to talk about with you, doesn't it?

He chuckles.
A little. But I talk about Jill with you, sometimes. Not often. It always gets awkward. Because when he talks to Sarah, his feelings for her become abundantly clear, vivid, and that gets confusing when he's talking about his girlfriend. He never thought he'd be the guy attracted to two women, and he supposes he's not, really. Because he's only met one of them. But the other one's his soulmate, and that really, really complicates matters. But, since he does talk about her, sometimes, and since Jill is in class and he's just alone in his dorm, he lets Sarah have this, if she wants to. If she feels gossiping with her soulmate about another guy isn't too weird. Spill it, Sarah

It's really nothing. I was just in a coffee shop, and he kept looking at me, and I didn't want him to think I was looking at me, so I drew instead.

But you were looking? he detects, and her reply fades into him.

A little.

He imagines her shrugging a little at that, whatever she really looks like, and laughs, writing back.
Well I thought your drawing was very cute

It really wasn't.

It was! I'll show you.
And with that, he scrawls swirling lines across the back of his hand, up his arm, curling around his shoulder and back down, intent and soft, drawing stars and hearts and stupid symbols along the way, plus one Vader helmet, because he can, and he knows how much it'll make her laugh. As he's starting on another line, he sees his own name appear on his skin, fading in.

Chuck… she says. There's nobody else like you in the world, you know that?

He chuckles.
I try

No, I mean it. Guys in coffee shops, people I meet. Nobody's like you.

His heart pounds at her words, and he sighs. He wishes they could meet, could give in, work out what they are, why they're soulmates. Even if she's traveling, even if he's with Jill, they're still soulmates, at the end of the day. He wishes they could do something. But they never do.

Nobody's like you either, you know. he writes, completely honest. Sarah's unlike anyone else he's ever known.

His phone blares, and he looks down at it, sees Jill's name upon the screen, and instantly sighs. Looking at the clock, he sees he's late to meet her for lunch. And he's gonna be even later, since now, he's got a giant doodle to wash off his arm. He can't help but think, though, that it's totally it's worth it.

She hates how imposing the darkness seems. How looming, overwhelming. She can't cope with it. And so she keeps the light on. And when that doesn't work, she grabs a pen.

Are you awake? she asks, hating how much she hopes he is. Hating how much she needs him.

Yeah. Hang on.

A relieved, anxious sigh rushes out of her, but then she pauses as a bitter thought points out, he's probably with Jill. It's late here, late in California, too. Jill's probably asleep, by his side. Curled up next to Sarah's soulmate. At this point, rattled, scared, the jealousy is ugly.

She wonders if he'd felt jealous when she'd explained her doodle a couple months ago. She'd been keeping up a cutesy cover for a mark, trying to attract his attention in a simple way, looking a little bored and lonely in a coffee shop. It had worked. He'd come right over, talked to her, and she'd pretended to laugh at his bad jokes, pretended to like him, leaning over the table to him. They'd gone out for dinner that night. When he'd gotten handsy in the cab, she'd knocked him out, told the driver the address where her backup would pick the guy up. And she'd headed back to her hotel and talked to Chuck.

That was simple. Today was not.

Today was the first time a mission truly went south. Her 'handler', essentially her partner since she's hardly in need of handling after this long with the agency, had disappeared in the middle of a fistfight, leaving Sarah to fend for herself, which she hadn't been able to do. She'd tried, sure, given the bad guys hell and taken out plenty of them, but in the end she'd been outnumbered, greatly. And then she'd been taken by the men she'd been tasked to apprehend, and the rest is a blur she barely remembers, and wants to remember even less. She'd been trained to withstand torture, of course, but no training scenario could ever come close to reality. To the searing pain, the beatings, the gross leering threats. The hands and knives that wander. Backup had tracked her just in time, but the idea still looms in her mind, heavy.

What's up? Chuck asks, so light.

Tough day. she admits, wondering why that feels like weakness. Admitting to her soulmate, of all people, that she's had a bad day. Really tough. I think I need someone to talk me down.

What can I do? he says, instantly, so quickly she's sure he must've started writing before she'd even finished. Tell me.

She sighs, traces her finger over the familiar scrawl.

Tell me a story she says, and immediately, he starts writing out a tale. It's of a frost queen who meets her soulmate, a King, her one weakness. They fall in love, have two children, a prince and princess, make their way in the world, and all love each other very much. And then the queen leaves.
Chuck tweaks it to have a happy ending, restoring the kingdom, but she puts the pieces together; the frost queen is his mother. The kids are him and Ellie.

She wonders if, maybe, he's hopeful their story can have a happy ending, too. Hopeful they won't end up the way his parents did. Thinking on it herself, she knows she can't help but hope for that.

You still there? he asks, after 'happily ever after'. The start of his tale has faded to make room for her reply.

Yeah. Your story made me sleepy, though she admits, though she's amazed even his writing is enough of a comfort to lull her to tiredness.

I think that's a compliment.
She imagines his smirk at that.

It is. She gnaws on her lip, wonders if she should say it or not. But eventually, she caves. Tonight, of all nights, she doesn't feel like holding back. Can I tell you something, Chuck?

Always.

I'm so glad you're my soulmate.

She waits, waits, and then his reply fades in, somehow soft upon her skin.
Me too.

She doesn't reply. She pretends it's because she's asleep, but really, she stays awake a long time longer. Not because of the darkness, no, that doesn't scare her anymore. What scares her, is that day by day, she falls for Chuck even more. And day by day, she has to try to get more distant. Try and lose every connection. Today's botched operation showed her that more than anything.

Because one day, it could all come crashing down.

"Why do you never talk about her?" Jill asks, one afternoon. They're both studying for tests, his bed covered in papers for Professor Fleming's final and Jill's biochem notes. He looks up, frowns.

"Talk about who?"

"Sarah." she says, like it's obvious. He looks down to his hand, sees a note there. It's not for him, it just says Graham, 1400, but there's a little scrawled (sorry) written after it for his benefit. He does the same for her if he ever has to write something down as a reminder for himself. He thinks it's only polite, after all, since she has to see it too.

Shrugging, he eyes Jill, tries to work out why she's asking.
"I don't know. I never think to."

"You never think to? Chuck, she's your soulmate." she says, widening her eyes, and he tries not to shrug again, since that doesn't make things much clearer for him.

"Yeah?"

She suddenly looks at him like he's missing something obvious, but he doesn't know what.
"And you never talk about her, to me."

He frowns, brow furrowed. She knows he's pretty private about Sarah with everyone, not just her, it's why he's never told Bryce anything more than he has a soulmate, it's why he doesn't talk to her openly if he doesn't have to. Only Jill even knows her name. This sudden questioning is strange, especially after the years he's been with his girlfriend, and he doesn't know why she's asking now.
"Well, what, are you jealous?"

"Should I be?" she asks, not missing a beat, and Chuck knows that's it. Why now, he doesn't know. She could've asked any time, that night months ago when Sarah had had a bad day, and he'd slipped out of bed and headed downstairs just to talk to her for almost an hour, comfort her, calm her. His answer then would have been the same as now, and the same as years ago.

Yes, probably. She should probably be jealous. But he hardly knows how to say that, so he just shakes his head, falls back to denial, trying to reassure her.
"No. Jill, we've been talking to each other since we were sixteen, she's... she's just a part of me." Jill blinks, and he wonders if he should've said that. Maybe it just proves her point even more. "But I'm not dating her, I'm dating you. Have been for a while, in case you've forgotten."

She chuckles, but there's not much heart in it.
"I don't know, Chuck, I just... I can't imagine what it's like, having her there to talk to, all the time."

Ah, yes, he thinks. Jill hasn't been connected to her soulmate yet. Neither has Bryce, in fact, and neither of them seem to really know how to address the subject of soulmates with Chuck. And, as he'd thought, he keeps things pretty private. He's not gonna tell their whole story to someone, not gonna mention how she moved around a lot in school, not gonna say how important she's been to him, that she was the first person he told about getting into Stanford. She's special, to him, so special. Call him selfish, but he kind of doesn't want everyone to know. And he's hardly gonna chat casually about her to his girlfriend, of all people. Which just reminds him that often, he's a really crappy boyfriend.

He loves Jill, he does, she knows that. But he also feels something for Sarah, something entirely different. Something it's a good deal more difficult to understand, put into words. And something that moves him so differently, something that leaves him warm but aching, overwhelmed yet completely at ease. Something that makes him feel so, so alive.
He doesn't feel that, with Jill. He doesn't think he'll feel that with anyone other than Sarah- they're soulmates for a reason, after all. They're meant to have a connection unlike anything else. But that doesn't mean he doesn't love Jill, doesn't love spending time with her, doesn't mean he wants her jealous or upset or uncomfortable in this relationship.

"It's just like having any other friend. But we can just talk a little quicker than I can talk to Morgan, sometimes,"

Jill chuckles, smiles up at him.
"I don't mean to question you, Chuck, I'm sorry. But I just don't know why you don't talk about her. She's important to you, right? That means, in a way, she's important to me, too." He wrinkles his nose, since that just feels weird to think about, and she shrugs. "Yeah, I know, okay. But you get what I mean."

He grins, tugs her closer despite the papers between them.
"I do. But I don't know, she's just... there. But when I'm with you, why would I be thinking about her?"

"Well, when you put it that way..." She leans in, and kisses him, and though he's aware he just lied, outright, to his girlfriend, making him hate himself, he pulls her closer, ignoring the papers around them, ignoring that they have to study, and very much ignoring the fact that he doesn't think he'll ever feel for Jill the way he feels about Sarah.

"So tell me, Walker," Jake says, as he falls into the chair opposite her. She raises an eyebrow at his casual nature; once they land, they're right into the thick of their mission. They should be preparing, but he's apparently thought it the perfect time for a chat. "You got a secret soulmate?"

"What?"

He raises his hand, and she sees there's writing on the back of it.
"I got a guy called Brian. He's the guy who recruited me, guess that's important enough. You've never mentioned if you have one."

She blinks, utterly unsure of how to proceed. This is her third mission working under Jake, and she likes him. He's a good agent, confident but not cocky. He's trusted her to have his back in the past, not undermining her, or constantly checking to see she's still there. Or constantly checking her out. She's appreciated all of that, and she's liked working with him. He's pretty cute, too, all of which is why she'd been happy to accept her latest orders. But if he's asking these sorts of questions, getting nosy, snooping, then maybe she'll have to object, next time.

Swallowing, she stares him down.
"No, I haven't," Mentioned it, that is. But he nods, looks a little sympathetic, and she knows he's misunderstood just as she'd intended.

Even after years in the CIA, she's still managed to keep Chuck a secret. It's involved a lot of long sleeves and thick watches over her left wrist, and a lot of hoping, plus making up excuses as to why he shouldn't write to her on some days, but she's managed it. And, like Jake as she does, she's not gonna mess things up now. Chuck might have the luxury of telling people about her, telling Jill about her, but Sarah knows, she's not that afforded that. She can't.

"Well, some people have to wait a while," She nods, and he waves a hand. "I'm just askin' cause I saw Mulvaney's is listed in his file as a possible weakness to exploit."

She swallows, suddenly feeling a little ill.
"Oh?"

"Yeah," He swipes the file for her hand, flips to the next page. "Uh, yeah, some girl called Melody. Wow, they've been talking since they were fifteen, no wonder we can exploit that."

"Yeah," She echoes him, but her mind is far away. These two have been talking one year more than she and Chuck have. And much like with these two, she knows, as she's known for so long, Chuck is her weakness. He shouldn't be, but he is. If they threatened him, if they took him, she'd cave. Instantly. It's why it's imperative to keep him a secret, so nobody can do to him what she and Jake are about to do to Mulvaney. She clears her throat, thinks of the right way to go about this. "I don't think we need to go overboard, though. I say we call his bluff."

He narrows his eyes, thinking it over.
"Y'sure?"

Her stomach churns, but her spy side wins out. She knows her plan is good, in terms of their mission. Somehow, it's the least violent, most compassionate option.
"Yeah. It's a romantic connection, right? We take him at the party like we've planned, but instead of torturing the codes out of him, we pretend we've got eyes on her, we threaten her. That'll probably be enough to get him to give us what we need. If not, then we send a team to find her." She gulps, a sour taste in her mouth. "Or we send her a message, through him."

Jake arches an eyebrow.
"Yeah, that could work. Nice idea, Walker." He hands her the file back. When she reaches for it, she sees a word fading in beneath her watch strap, and she hurriedly snatches the folder away before Jake can see anything.

She doesn't read what Chuck writes. She can't stand to. Not when she's just suggested using that very thing, their connection, to hurt someone else. Their mark, Mulvaney, isn't a good guy, Sarah knows that. He's stolen government codes, and to do so he killed a lot of people, blew up a government facility. But this Melody person probably doesn't even know that. She's probably just an innocent, and she can't help who her soulmate is. Just like Chuck can't help having Sarah. And if she ever gets taken, and whoever's taken her works out that she's got feelings for her soulmate, they could very well threaten him, send him a message through her, see how far she would go for him, to keep him safe.
And she knows. She'd do anything.

"Have you told her?" Ellie asks, eyes full of sympathy. She doesn't have to specify who she's talking about. After all, there's only one woman in his life who might not know about the past week.

He groans, buries his head in his pillow even more.
"No," he admits, sighing, filled with self-loathing, just in general but also at his admission. She deserves to know, needs to, he supposes, but he's avoided writing to her out of shame, cowardice. "I don't know how. God, what's she gonna think of me, Ellie?"

"I don't know, Chuck, I don't. But she's your soulmate, she cares for you, you know that. She's not gonna think any less of you."

"But I got kicked out of college. I'm an idiot." He laughs, mirthlessly. It sounds like half a weak sob even to his ears. "And she's got this awesome job, she's all, like, in control of her life. And then there's me, like this. I'm a chump, she's got a chump for a soulmate."

"Hey." Ellie slaps his arm, not that lightly, then immediately rubs the spot, like she can't help but comfort him. "Don't talk about my brother that way. I happen to like him."

He chuckles, but it's weakly, tiredly. He's been tired for days. Ever since Professor Fleming called him into his office. It's been less than a week since that day, but it feels like a lifetime, to Chuck. Since then, he's lost his future, his prospects, his scholarship and college place, his best friend, and his girlfriend.
If he loses Sarah too, then what the hell does he even have anymore?

Ellie sighs, stands, heads to his desk and picks up a pen, handing it to him.
"Talk to her, Chuck. You need it, you need her." He squeezes his eyes shut, pretends he can ignore his sister. But he knows her words are true. And so he groans, pushes himself up into a sitting position, and takes the pen. Ellie pats his leg, comfortingly. "I'll leave you to it. Dinner's in a half hour, okay? Devon'll be back soon."

He nods, swallows, and she leaves, closing the door behind her. He tugs up his sleeve, eyes the bare skin. When he can put it off no longer, he clicks the pen, and bites the bullet.

I got expelled.

Wh He breathes a laugh at the faint mark. Her pen must be running out. The letters trace over, get bolder, suddenly. What happened?

I don't even know. he writes, hating to even re-live it, explain it. My roommate said I was cheating. Reported me to administration, they kicked me out. I'm back home with Ellie. I'm so lost, Sarah, I don't even know what to do

God, Chuck, I'm sorry. That's awful. How are you feeling?

Crappy.

Cute. But seriously, I know you're not okay, but are you okay?

He sighs. He knows she's just asking because he got expelled, but he needs to tell her the other part, as well.
Not really. Jill dumped me, too. For my roommate. When he'd called her the day after she'd dumped him, she'd dropped the oh so pleasant bomb about being with Bryce, right before she'd made a cutting remark about Chuck already having another girl, so he wouldn't miss her. He'd been debating groveling, going back, appealing to her, but after that, he knows he's better leaving her where she left him. Jill can be just a remnant of Stanford, just like Bryce. And Sarah will always be more than that, more than Jill ever could be. He knows that.

That doesn't mean he doesn't feel like crap right now, though.

Do you want me to find them both and beat them up? Sarah asks, after a couple moments, and he has to laugh at her words.

Ellie offered that, too. That'd be a sight.

Your girls fighting for you, huh?
Something flutters in his chest. She's still with him. He's still got her. And Ellie. They really are his girls, although, he thinks of them both rather differently. Very differently.

Something like that. he scrawls, feeling a little warmed. Rather warmed.

So what are you gonna do?

That, he guesses, is the big question. He'd had no plans lined up for after graduation, he'd hoped to travel, spend time with Jill, relax a little after the madness of college, and then go look for a job, probably in software. With his degree. And now, of course, he has no degree, and he's not gonna get one. Which means no software company is gonna take him. He's just a college dropout with no qualifications, now. And he's come up with only one idea.
Morgan said there's a vacancy at the Buy More. From Stanford to Buy More, talk about a fall from grace.

Hey, it's a job. she says, somehow reassuring. It's secure. Maybe that's what you need.

Maybe. Anyway, would you maybe just tell me about your day, or something? Anything to distract me.

Of course. she writes, and his stomach flips a little. I got a partner today, for assignments. I'm not sure if I like her, yet. They're talking about making us into a team with two others, but she's unpredictable. Fun, but unpredictable.

And you're not? He sends her a winking face, too, imagines her laugh. Sometimes he dreams about that, what it must sound like.

Cheeky, Chuck. Cheeky.

And for the first time since last week, he finds himself smiling.

She runs a hand through her hair, looks across the beach at two of her teammates. They're doing recon here, scouting out their location for tonight's mission, but to anyone else they look like four friends, sunbathing the day away. Amy and Zondra are playing volleyball with some strangers, but Sarah had sat this one out, and had sent Carina a burning look. They need to talk.

"So what's up?"

She turns back to Carina, sends her a flat look through her shades.
"You know what's up. I don't trust her." She'd voiced her hesitation to Carina last night in their hotel room, but with Zondra and Amy right next door, she'd had to be a little cagey, quick, not as oblique as she can be here.

"Zondra?" Carina clarifies, and Sarah nods. "How'd you decide on her?"

"Well, I know I'm not the mole, and I know you're not. I don't think Amy would be capable of betraying us all. That leaves Zondra."

"Hey, hey, hold it Walker. Who said there's a mole?"

She rolls her eyes; she thought she'd made it clear last night.
"Come on, Carina, open your eyes. We're a step behind, here, we have been all mission. We're the best of the best, but Gaez keeps eluding us. Someone's letting him know our moves."

Carina frowns, flips her hair over her shoulder.
"I'm flattered you don't think it's me. But c'mon- Zondra, really? We've been a team for a long time, why do you think she'd betray us?"

"I don't know," she shrugs. She's tried to work out why any of the CATs would betray them, but she's been lost for a true idea. "We're all in this for ourselves, in the end. Money. The thrill of it. I don't know."

"Maybe it's not any of us, maybe it's higher up, maybe it's Graham."

She scoffs at that. Langston Graham is a lot of things, but Sarah can't see him as a traitor. This is the guy who recruited a 17-year-old for the cause, she doesn't see him betraying all of that this suddenly.
"Maybe it's Johnson," she suggests, speaking of Carina's boss at the DEA. The other woman pauses, mouth open, then presses her lips shut and shrugs, tense.

"Okay, point."

Sarah sighs, rolls over onto her front, facing the sea. It's a beautiful day, but as so often happens, she can't really enjoy it. She casts a look over to their location for tonight just past this beach, sees the many suited-up guards stepping into it. Evidently, Gaez is anticipating needing protection. She narrows her eyes.
"We'll see what happens tonight. If it goes south, I think we should sweep the team. Check for bugs."

Carina gnaws on her lip a moment, then nods.
"Okay." They fall into silence, but a group of guys walk past, shirtless, and Carina grins suddenly, hungry. "Mmmm, that was a bunch of cute butts."

Sarah laughs at the change of pace, shakes her head at her friend's antics.
"You're insatiable, y'know that?"

"A girl's gotta have fun." Carina smirks, bounces her eyebrows, but then pauses. "Not that you ever seem to be interested in that."

She turns her head, pushes her shades up onto her head so her teammate can see her frown.
"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, don't get me wrong, I know the whole getting some on a mission thing isn't for everyone, but seriously, when'd you last get laid? We travel all over the world and I've literally never heard you talk about a guy."

She gapes.
"I- It wasn't that long ago." It wasn't, no. There had been a guy in a bar in Berlin a couple months ago she'd gone home with on a whim, and she and Jake had had a rather fun farewell when their fourth mission together had ended, so she's not really in a dry spell or anything. Compared to Carina's interests, though, she knows she seems positively chaste. "I'm just not interested in sleeping with a new person every week, no offense."

"None taken." Carina tips an imaginary hat, pleased as punch.

Sarah laughs, before sobering, continuing.
"And, well, this life doesn't really let us make any more of a connection than that, so..."

"Is that all it is?" Carina says, lilt in her voice, and a warning rears itself in Sarah. Her friend is up to something. "Or have you maybe already got that connection?"

"What do you mean?" she asks, voice flat. Cold. But it just spurs Carina on even more, apparently, for the woman sits up, reaches to her beach bag, and before Sarah can even blink, her teammate has grabbed a pen and scrawled Hey on her arm, the angle all funny.

She pulls back, worry flooding her, and instantly tries to rub away the word, but her ever-prompt soulmate replies as quickly as he always does. Or, he does now that he's out of college and not dating Jill. Sarah had never wanted to be by his side more than when he'd told her about that, getting kicked out, Jill dumping him. She already held no torch for the woman, but dumping Chuck, wonderful sweet funny Chuck, right after he'd been framed and expelled... Sarah knows if she crosses Jill's path, somehow, the woman won't know what hit her. And god, she'd just wanted to hold Chuck close, comfort him, reassure him. Instead she'd been in Eastern Europe, wrapping up a mission, just glad she was alone and could reply.

Today, though, his promptness sends her stomach spiraling downwards.

Hey? I thought you were away. he says, and her breath hitches in her throat.

Carina giggles, victorious, but Sarah just groans.

"Carina..." she warns, reaching to her back, but her friend just laughs even more, throwing her head back, not getting it.

"Awww, you're all red! So cute, you've got a-"

Sarah pulls the knife from her waist, grabs Carina's hand, and points the tip of the blade into her friend's palm, all in a second.
"Don't."

"Woah, Sarah-"

"No." she interrupts, voice low. "I've spent my whole career keeping him a secret. If anyone finds out, they'll find him, they'll hurt him, or they'll use him to hurt me. Do not blow this now. This isn't a game."

Carina's face falls, a mix of glee and worry fading to acceptance.
"Okay." She nods. "Okay, I'm sorry."

"Good." Swallowing, Sarah pulls back, replaces the knife and reaches into her own bag for the cardigan she'd brought with her. She slips it on, covers the words on her arm.

"How-" Carina clears her throat, clearly a little shocked. Sarah can't even find it in her to feel bad about that. "How long since you two connected?"

She sighs, presses her eyes shut.
"We were sixteen."

"God. I'm sorry, Sarah," her friend says again, and Sarah sighs.

"Yeah. Me too."

As with every day at the Buy More, Chuck's still not used to the madness. He doubts he ever will be. Jeff and Lester have, as expected, been annoying and resistant to any kind of work all day, and still continue to be the strangest people Chuck has ever met. He wishes for the hundredth time that the two weren't platonic soulmates, but they are, they've been connected for years, and for some utterly unknown reason, they've decided their destiny is to fix computers while also creating really, really bad music, whilst also annoying Chuck, their supervisor.

And Chuck doesn't even really enjoy working with his best friend, here, so even that isn't a reprieve. He loves Morgan, sure, but the little guy makes it his mission to do as little as possible at the Buy More. Thankfully, Chuck quickly made his way from green shirt to Nerd Herd to supervisor, so he doesn't have to deal with his friend's antics directly anymore, or his lack of discipline, or his strange Buy More games. Every day on the floor, Morgan will be playing something, like who can get a customer to buy the most useless thing of the day, who can get the TV remote the most days a week, who can steal one of Big Mike's donuts, and worst of all, who can eat the grossest leftover from the fridge.

Not that Chuck finds himself doing much more useful stuff than that, sadly. He fixes computers, deals with broken cell phones, and tries not to fall asleep. It's boring. He knows he's meant for more than this. He was supposed to do more than this.
But Bryce Larkin had other plans. And so here Chuck is, wasting away, week by week, month by month. He wonders what Sarah must think of him.

Pushing back in his chair, he cracks his neck, looking at the mess of a hard drive in front of him. He's not on break, yet, but he's been deep within this computer's workings for hours now, and he needs five minutes to breathe before he can try and do much else. Looking around the cage, he's relieved to find he's here alone. He tugs out a pen from his pocket protector, dances it along his wrist.

Sarah... he writes, waiting. She's not away, at least, she hasn't told him she's traveling anywhere for work right now, so he thinks he's okay to send a message to her. He knows if he talks to her without a warning, when she's away, that can get her into trouble. Even if he wants to talk to her most days.

I'm here fades in, her familiar swirling writing, and he wonders how just a phrase written by her can calm him.

Been elbow-deep in computers all day. So bored. Just wanted to talk to you.

Well, hi. She throws in a smiling face. I'm sorry, I've been so busy, recently. My team broke up a while back, it's been busy

It's okay. Though I have kinda missed you. He sketches a winking face, but it's not quite a funny matter to him. He really has missed her, he always does. She's his constant, and he feels stupidly sad some days, when he can't talk to her, like he can't be himself, can't relax.

I've missed you too. He draws a heart, not sure what else to say, and she keeps going. How's Ellie? Did Devon apologize yet?

He blinks, wondering if it's really been so many weeks since they've properly talked. Ellie and Devon had had a pretty big fight, sorta broken up for a while, after Devon had royally miscalculated a gift. He'd apologized a few weeks ago in a big, romantic gesture, with Ellie's favorite flower.
Yeah. They're good.

I'm glad. Tell her I say hi.
He grins. It's strange that his sister and Sarah are somehow friends, though they've never met and can only speak through him, but he loves it.

Of course. Other than the team, how's work?

Ugh. It's the same, I just don't know who I'll work with next. I got used to the girls, it'll be different without them.

I'll bet. But you'll be fine. You're Sarah.

You really know how to make a girl feel better, y'know?

He smiles at that, far too glad and a little affectionate that he can do that. That he can lift her spirits a little, even just through some words.
And you know how to flatter a guy who spends his whole day fixing computers. The door creaks, and he looks up, sees Jeff wandering in. Speaking of, I need to go. Talk to you soon, though. He sends a quick heart, then returns to fixing the computer. When he looks down at his arm a little later, though, he sees her little heart and another smiley face sent in reply, and can't help but smile. Somehow, Sarah can brighten even the most boring day.

Meetings with Graham always make her a little nervous. In general, yes, as she's meeting with her boss, but also because, as ever, she worries about someone finding out about Chuck. She tugs on her blazer sleeves more, cursing when they don't come down that much. She swears the thing must've shrunk in the wash- didn't it used to cover her watch? Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she waits in the chair, opposite the empty desk. Graham's called her in to meet her new partner, she knows, but for some reason he's making her wait, and she hates it. She wants to slump against the chair, sigh out her boredom. But she knows she can't. She has to stay alert, rigid, the perfect spy. Sometimes she feels the only time she manages to relax is when she talks to Chuck.

Yet again, he'd managed to calm her down, a few months ago. When she was yet again huddling in a Paris hotel room, this time scared and sickened out of her mind. His words had helped more than anything else would, but they hadn't stopped the nightmares that crowded her all night, the visions she'd seen for weeks. A woman, falling to the ground, the cry of a siren swarming her. And honestly, Sarah had felt it was deserved. Nobody should be able to be soothed after taking a life. Nobody should treat it lightly.
It's only gotten a little easier since then, killing someone. She knows it will never be easy, or simple, or something she takes lightly, but the sheer shock of her red test has faded a little, the more she tries to justify it, to argue that the people she's killing have murdered hundreds themselves, or are going to, or can't be saved from their ideas anymore. Sometimes she believes those excuses. Other time she doesn't. But she always tries to get the job done. And her boss has taken notice, been very pleased with her doing his damn will at every time and occasion, which is why she's sitting here waiting for him now.

The door clicks open, and she forces herself to look straight ahead until she's called.

"Agent Walker." She stands, smooths down her suit as she goes, and turns around, seeing a man about her age standing next to Graham. "This is Agent Larkin. He'll be your partner for this next mission. If it goes well, you'll continue to work together."

She nods, reaches out a hand.
"Agent Larkin."

He grins. It's charming, a little crooked, fitting with his general handsomeness. That alone makes her a little wary- the hot ones always seem to be the cocky ones, she's found. Larkin, though, at least reaches out his own hand, shakes hers.
"Agent Walker. Nice to meet you."

The rest of the briefing is fairly by-the-book, Graham gives them their orders, they're to attend a party together, act as a couple, be very affectionate to slip away without attention. It's the strangest part of this job, sometimes, to pretend to be a very intimate couple when you've just met a person. But years of practice have made Sarah a pretty good actress, if she does think so herself, and she knows she can do it. She hopes he can too.

As they walk out, he reaches for her arm, grasping it briefly before letting it go.
"Do you wanna get a coffee or something?" She raises an eyebrow, questioning, not too impressed. "I find it's best to know someone before a job. We can work out the cover, get to know each other. Professionally, of course."
Of course, Larkin, she thinks. Professionally. But she finds the same thing, sometimes, and so she nods.

She discovers over coffee that Bryce Larkin is charming, funny, a little nerdy, too, and he seems to be a good spy. He's thorough, goes through just about everything they may need for the cover, anything someone might need to know. He doesn't cross any boundaries, but he flirts with her, too, and she doesn't find him as annoying or persistent as some people seem to her. He just seems to be naturally disarming. He's cute, too, she can't deny.
What she doesn't expect, is the way he rolls his eyes when a fade in appears on the back of his hand. He doesn't try to cover it, doesn't try to hide it, just looks a little annoyed.

She raises an eyebrow as she sips her macchiato.
"Aren't you gonna...?" She points at his hand.

"Nah." He shrugs. "I don't really believe in the soulmates thing. No offence if you do, I just... I don't think I need it, in this life. Just makes things complicated."

He's correct there, Sarah knows, even if she doesn't follow through on that thought the way he does. She nods.
"You don't talk to yours?"

To his credit, he looks a little awkward.
"No. We only connected two months ago, I've just... never written anything on me since then?" He winces, and she has to chuckle. It's strange, she'd never debated doing anything but replying to Chuck when he'd first written to her. And she doubts she'd have done nothing if he'd been the one to write the equation on his palm, if she'd been the one to realize they'd connected. Maybe if they were older, if they hadn't just been kids, eager to make a new friend, but she likes to think even then... She just can't imagine her life without him. Bryce shrugs, eyes her. "Do you talk to yours?"

"No," she lies, upbeat. "Hasn't happened, yet."

"Ah," he nods, saying nothing more. She can't even feel bad about the lie. He might seem like a good spy, he could be a great partner, this thing might be permanent if this mission goes well, but she can't regret keeping Chuck from him. He'll always be the one thing in her life untainted by the spy world. She intends to keep him that way. "Hey, one more thing."

"Yeah?"

Bryce stands from his chair, moves around to her side of the booth, slips in by his side.
"If this is too forward and I'm misreading things then just tell me, but we've gotta sell this cover, tomorrow night. And it could be really awkward, if we don't..." He leans in close as he trails off, eyes on her mouth, and she knows what he's meaning. Normally, she really would find that forward, and she'd likely shove him away and walk outta here. But Larkin is nice, and he is cute. And he's got a point. As she was just thinking in their briefing, they need to act intimate on this mission, they can't be new, kissing, can't act like it's their first time. So it's just easier to not make it their first time.
This doesn't have to mean anything. In this line of work, she knows Bryce won't be expecting any less. 'No strings attached' is practically written into the CIA handbook.

"Practice?" she completes, and he smirks a little. He stays back, though, doesn't move forward, just nods.

"Yeah,"

"Okay," she breathes, and leans in.

I wanted to tell you. I'm sort of seeing someone.
It appears on his arm, one evening. Lower than his wrist, the writing small, like she hadn't wanted just anyone to see it. He's in a t-shirt, so it doesn't really matter, but he supposes he appreciates it. Especially since the words seem to tear out something deep in his chest.

He blinks. Looks across at Morgan, engrossed in Call of Duty, almost falling off Chuck's computer chair as he leans so close toward the screen.
"Be right back, buddy," he says, as he heads to the bathroom, swiping up a pen from his desk as he goes. His friend just waves a hand, not even saying a word. Chuck thinks that's probably a good thing, anyway.

Locking the door behind him, he sits down on the floor, rereads the words over and over. He didn't think it would hurt that much.

That's great! he lies, blatantly. How'd you meet?

Work, he's my partner. We're not really serious, but I wanted you to know. You okay with this?

Why wouldn't I be? If he hurts you, I'll kill him, but I'm happy for you.
And he is, he supposes, he's happy that Sarah's happy, but god, he's lying in saying he's okay with this. He wonders how even the smiley face he draws looks insincere.

I'll be sure to tell him. But thank you, Chuck.

Seriously, you deserve it.

Even as he writes it, even as he feels that truth, he feels stupid, annoying, vaguely sad jealousy wash over him. He thinks this might've been how Sarah felt, when he'd been with Jill. She'd never said anything bad about the other woman, even when she'd dumped him. But there was always an awkwardness, that comes with dating someone other than your soulmate. But all the time he's known Sarah, she's never mentioned any guy, any boyfriend, other than that guy, once, when she'd drawn all along her arm. Chuck isn't naive enough to think she's never been with anyone else, but he guesses nothing lasted. Maybe that's what she wanted, because he doubts any guy would let her go- if there are men out there who could've been with Sarah but weren't interested in anything long-term, Chuck knows that's their loss, and they must also be idiots. Sarah's wonderful, beyond wonderful, and sweet, and funny. Anyone who passes up on that must be an idiot.

But that she's told Chuck now, tells him, this guy is something else, this guy, she sees sticking around. Maybe because they work together, maybe because she really likes him. A little selfishly, he hopes it's the former, and then backtracks on that, knowing it's wholly unfair to her. At Stanford, Chuck had decided he couldn't wait forever for Sarah. Evidently, she's thought the same thing now.
It blows, but it's her life, and though he may be her soulmate, he'd rather she's happy with someone else than miserable and alone.

You know you'll always be my guy, right? she writes, after a moment of nothing. No matter what happens

He sighs, feels a pathetic sob in his chest, but bites it back, not that that really matters. She can't see him, anyway. But it's easier to feign being normal to her, somehow, if he pretends to be in real life, too. He lowers his pen again.
Of course. We're soulmates, after all.

I know. And nothing's gonna stop that. I promise.
She sends him a heart, and he's glad. He can just send one in reply, and when she sends nothing else, the conversation wrapped up, he heads to the sink, wipes off all his writing, until all that remains, is one solitary heart. Sarah's.

He stares at it, for long long minutes, suddenly willing it to stay long enough that he can understand what it means. What she means, what either of them really mean, to each other. But suddenly, looking at it, tracing his finger over the little symbol, thinking of her, wherever she is, probably with this man of hers, he realizes what he feels for her. What he feels for his wonderful, incredible soulmate. The woman he's known since they were sixteen and she was cheating in math class. He knows what she means to him, he knows how he feels. And he knows that won't change, ever.

He doesn't know why realizing he's in love with his soulmate seems like such a bad thing.

She's in a fancy hotel room in Cabo, Bryce snoring by her side, the sheets pooled around his waist. It's past midnight, but the night is that perfect summer temperature, just cool enough after a hot day, but not so cool you feel at all cold. They've had a lot of sex, great sex, the kind where her muscles are aching happily now like a reminder of the fun. And today, their second last day here, they'd been on the beach from daybreak, sunbathing, making out, taking stupid pictures.
She should be exhausted, content to slip beneath the sheets and doze the night away. But she's wide awake.

Something feels off, right now, and she doesn't know what. She's been partnered with Bryce for a long time, now, and they're a great team. They work stupidly well together, sell covers expertly, barely need to share words. Their personal relationship is strong as ever, not too emotionally-deep, but they're close. They'd held back a little while, before finally caving and sleeping together, so there are some feelings, just enough it's not just sex between them. Enough that she'd felt she owed it to let Chuck know a while back. He'd sounded okay about it, but things had felt awkward, and she's noticed he doesn't mention Bryce when they talk unless she brings him up. Like things had been, for her, with Jill. And, like with Jill, they don't talk as often, now. She's rarely free, either on missions or spending the night with Bryce, and since he doesn't know about Chuck, still, she's avoided talking to Chuck on those nights. Bryce hasn't talked to his soulmate, still, either, still avoids making any mark on his skin. He seems to want to stay away as long as possible. It's one of a few things about him Sarah can't quite understand.

She likes Bryce. She does. He's cute, and funny, and he's always been good to her. If this were a full relationship she'd probably feel happy and safe with him. Content.
But she doesn't love him. And maybe that's the problem. After this long, she's not sure she can just settle for like, for just being content.

She sighs, slips away from his side to head toward the balcony, picking up her robe off the floor as she walks. Years of training let her slip the door open and shut silently, and she curls up in one of the seats, listening to the reassuring rhythm of the sea ebbing and flowing not so far away. There's a pen and paper on the small coffee table out here; she'd been trying to keep a journal of their day, earlier. Bryce had kept kissing her neck, and she'd given up. She picks it up now, starts writing again, but after a minute she sees words fading in on her arm, right by her elbow.

Saraaaaah She snorts at the multiple letters, so unnecessary when you're writing by hand. Are you there?
Chuck's writing seems shaky. A sketch starts to appear on her wrist, one she realizes is Darth Vader, apparently on a horse. As he keeps coloring, she writes her response.

Are you drunk? she asks, and he stops in his sketching, words appearing beneath her own.

Hi! A little. Sorry.

She smiles, shaking her head.
It's okay. Why are you drunk?

Felt like it.
That makes her frown, immediately. Chuck's never struck her as the type to get drunk just because he felt like it.

Are you okay?

I miss you he says, simple as day. A lot.

The words steal her breath. He apparently has no idea; shading appears on the Vader-Horse.

Biting her lip, she sighs. It's like he knew where her mind was, tonight. Somehow. Maybe it's a soulmate thing, though telepathy and emotional links haven't been noticed before. But just as she's been thinking about him, and about Bryce, he goes and says this. She tightens the pen in her grip.
I miss you too. We don't talk much, sometimes.

You've got your job, your boyfriend. I'm at the Buy More. Cool.

She frowns. Oh, Chuck. He's gonna regret this in the morning, she's sure. But evidently, he's been thinking this for a while, and hasn't told her. Only now, when drunk, is he mentioning it. She knows he must feel insecure, about his life, she knows he'd felt low after being kicked out of Stanford, and he hasn't managed to get any further with his life, career, since then. She doesn't blame him; being expelled by your best friend and roommate, and dumped at the same time, would hit anyone hard. But she's here, still in her job, and he thinks she's going around the world being all fancy, and now she's dating Bryce. If only he really knew what she was doing. Taking lives, often, being in danger, risking her life for the supposed greater good, all since she was trapped in this life aged seventeen. She's on vacation now, sure, but it's still related to the spy life. She's still here with her partner. She still has a gun in her waistband and knives on her thigh every day.
I'm sorry I've been busy at work. She wonders how many times she's said that before, to him. They just never seem to have enough time. I wish they gave me time off to talk to you. They don't even know about you.

I get it. I'm boring.

No. Chuck, you're too special. Far, far too special. God, he doesn't even realize, what he thinks is boring, is all she wants. Normality. Home. Him. God, him. I don't tell everyone about you because I like to keep you just for me.
He waits, pauses. She wonders if he's fallen asleep, but slowly, his writing fades in.

You're my favorite person, Sarah

She sighs, blinks away the tears in her eyes. And she knows, now, why tonight has felt off. Sex on a job is fun, sure, it's part of the CIA life. But intimate, sexy vacations, getting to relax and learn about each other, taking pictures of each other, that's a whole other thing. Somehow, that feels more like a relationship than just sex does. And she can't do this with a man who doesn't have her heart. Because for all his charm, his skill, his goodness in some ways, Bryce doesn't have that. Bryce is great. But she doesn't love him.
She loves Chuck.

And it's not fair to Bryce, to keep stringing him along. It's not fair to Chuck, when she knows this hurts him, even if they're not together themselves.
And mostly, it's not fair to her. Maybe, without Chuck she wouldn't realize that. But he keeps her grounded, connected to her innocence, her youth. And he reminds her she has value, worth. And she can be selfish.

Sighing again, she rubs at her temples. Chuck's drunk, he doesn't know what he's saying, he probably won't remember tomorrow. And she can't leave him a note that he'll see, it'll fade in twenty minutes time.

And you're mine she writes. Chuck, go sleep. I'll talk to you in the morning.

Okay.

She sends a heart. He sends three, and a scribble through the Vader-Horse. She waits until it fades, then heads back inside, scrubs away the ink from her skin until all that remains is the memory. And that, she won't forget.

In the morning, she pretends she's just tired, when Bryce asks what's wrong. She pretends to sleep while he heads down to the pool alone. When he's away, and she figures it's late enough in California that Chuck might be awake, she gets dressed. And, just below the curve of her bikini top, right above her heart, she writes a small C. Maybe it's cliché, maybe it's stupid, maybe he won't even see it. But things changed for her, last night, and she needs him to know. Needs to remember it this morning, needs to follow it through.
And she watches, staring in the bathroom mirror, as a small S appears right next to it.

She and Bryce don't take another vacation after that. Because she knows, now, her heart belongs to Chuck.

He doesn't really know what they're doing. They've never talked about it. Never said anything, never actually discussed the change that's happened between them. But it's happened. It was that night the other month when he'd gotten stupid drunk on a Buy More night out, and he'd had far more beers than he ever needed to. The day before, Sarah had mentioned a vacation she was taking with her boyfriend. It had hurt more than Chuck had expected- and he'd expected it would hurt a lot.
But that night, as he'd drunkenly messaged her, something had changed. What he said, what she said, is fuzzy, but he knows he didn't spill his feelings for her, really. And she didn't say anything along those lines to him. And then, the next morning, when he'd been in the shower, scrubbing off the last of his messages and a very random drawing, he'd seen a tiny C appear on his chest. By his heart. He'd rushed out to his room to grab a towel, desperately drying his skin so the ink didn't run, before following it with an S.

And since then, they've spoken most days. With a lot of hearts involved, too. And he swears he can actually feel himself falling more every day.
He doesn't even know if she's broken up with her boyfriend. Doesn't even know if that C meant what he thought it did. But something has changed.

You know he says one day, when Ellie's working late and Morgan surprisingly isn't over. Chuck's just lounging on the sofa, yearning for Sarah. We could talk a lot easier if we just shared cell numbers, or something.

Yeah, but anyone can do that. Only we can talk this way.

He chuckles, messing with her.
Uh, technically literally everyone in the world can talk this way at some point.

You know what I meant she teases, and he grins.

Yeah, yeah

How was work today?
It sounds like such a domestic, normal thing to ask. Like he's just come home to her. They could be chatting over dinner, candlelit, maybe, with wine. Instead, he's alone, loving her from afar.

I got yelled at by an eighty year old, so I'm doing just swimmingly

Aww, poor baby.

He smirks. She's in a cute mood today, and he loves it when she's like this. Too often, they've been serious, sad. He loves it when she gets a little cheeky, nerdy. He likes to think it's his influence on her.
Hey. Octo...genarians are scary.

Sure they are.

It's hard to spell octogenarians. he says, hoping that makes her laugh. And jeez, Sarah, no sympathy here, I see where we stand.

Yup. But really, do you not want to talk like this?

He blinks, at that. It really would be easier to just call each other, or email, or something, but they've never even thought to do that. God, he'd love to hear her voice. See her face. Meet her. It's strange, to be in love with someone you don't even know, but that's how soulmates work. They've been connected since they were sixteen, after all.
I don't know. I'm surprised we don't die from ink poisoning, most soulmates work out something other than this after this length of time.

Even as she starts to reply, he has to wipe off all his notes, running out of arm space, proving his point. He still feels lucky he's got long arms, they can say more.
But this way's fun she insists, and he shrugs. If she doesn't wanna switch things up, that's fine with him.

Okay, but remember, if you draw a mustache on me, you're also drawing one on yourself.

Now that's just mean.
Instead, a swirling trail makes its way up his arm, little hearts and flowers like she'd once drawn, years ago. He has to tug up his t-shirt sleeve a little to see the whole thing, and he chuckles when, across his shoulder, appears Property of Sarah Walker, even if it makes his heart race. He is hers. Always has been. But he doesn't say that, so he makes a joke, instead.

That's a little Rear Window for me, baby he writes, weaving his way through the doodle she'd drawn. It doesn't quite fit the film, since it's not an epitaph written on a leg cast, but it still reminds him of it.

What's Rear Window? she asks, and he gapes.

Good god. You don't know Rear Window, you still haven't seen Star Wars, you don't know any of my favorite bands... Of all the soulmates in the world...

I walked into your gin joint?

He chokes at the somewhat correct Casablanca reference, falling into laughter.
Okay. You've won me back. She doesn't reply, and he pauses. Yeah okay, you never lost me.

Yeah, I think we're stuck together, Chuck.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

The basement is dark and dirty, with dripping water and pools of rust in the corners. Pools of blood, too. It's her own. She doesn't know how much she's lost, but it's a lot. The gashes in her legs, the wound in her stomach, they're all contributing to it. Her ankle is broken, too, and her head feels woozy from pain and blood loss. She's lost track of time, but she thinks when the sun rises next, it'll be the third she's seen here. If she sees the sun rise next.
She doesn't think Bryce is coming back. If she were in his position, she probably wouldn't come back for him. It's not personal, it just makes sense, logistically, in terms of money spent, nearest backup, that sort of thing. They can leave her behind.

She's had a pretty good run, she supposes. Being recruited before she'd even finished high school made her a young agent, young in training and young on missions. Getting this far, staying around so long, is impressive, actually. Maybe it's just her time.

And then, she suddenly realizes it can't be. Because, while there are no rules about soulmates, no particular reasoning to it, she knows one thing: she's supposed to meet him. She's supposed to meet Chuck. Even if it's on her last day on earth, even if they just bump into each other on the street, she's supposed to meet him.
And she hasn't, yet, she knows she hasn't. So this isn't her time, and she's not about to die.

Even so, she feels very, very close to death, right now. Everything's starting to blur, go soft around the edges. She can hear footsteps, somewhere, but she can't work out where they're from, and they all seem to echo around her head somehow, strangely.

She swallows. She doesn't know how much longer she can stay like this. She tries to move, but everything screams out in pain, her too, and she sighs, setting her hand down on the floor. She touches something sticky, warm. Blood. And, as awful as it may be, she realizes this could be her last chance. To tell him. To let him know. They've talked so much, recently, after she ended things with Bryce on a personal level. She just couldn't do it anymore, not when she couldn't stop thinking about Chuck. She's just had so much fun, nights spent with ink spilling over her skin, his words, his sweet, funny, loving words.
She's never tried it with blood, before, unsurprisingly, and she doesn't know if it'll transfer to him like ink does, like paint, charcoal. None of the experts ever talked about blood. But she has to try.

Raising her finger- is it shaking?- she slowly spells out the words on her dirt-coated arm.
I love you, Chuck

She gets no reply. After a minute, she swipes her hand through the message, and promptly passes out.
Backup arrives five minutes later, and suddenly, she's saved.

When she next sends him a note, he doesn't mention it, and neither does she. She gets the feeling, though, that they're both just pretending it didn't happen at all.

His birthday is in a couple of days. He swears it comes around faster every year, somehow. Ellie will be throwing him a party as per usual, he knows, inviting her friends to try and set him up with one. He hasn't dated since Jill. He hasn't wanted to date since Jill. Because he knows the love of his life is Sarah Walker.
Sarah Walker who, somehow, for some reason, loves him. He's known fewer strange things than looking down at his arm in the middle of a Buy More shift and finding I love you, Chuck written in faint red. Blood. He'd headed to the bathroom, and freaked out, a little like when they'd first connected all those years ago. Her message had been smudged after a minute, but the smeared blood had stayed there for their usual time. He could make out the marks of her fingers. And, unlike all those years ago, this time he'd had a panic attack, one that hadn't really ended until she'd messaged him late the next day, acting like she'd said nothing at all.

They haven't addressed it, still, and it's been a good couple months now. And he still doesn't know what the hell happened to her that led to her writing a message for him in blood, of all things. He didn't even know blood would transfer, but he thinks maybe since she'd directly written it, to him, rather than just spilling some on her, it worked. He's guessing it was her own, too, which is just all the more terrifying.

It strikes him now, as it did then, that he really doesn't know what she does. What her job is. Every time she's mentioned it it's been in vague, generic terms. When she'd first told him, she'd just said it was a job offer thanks to a careers fair. And he knows she's worked in a team and with a partner. Her boyfriend. Or, maybe her ex. She hasn't mentioned him in a while, and with her confession, he doesn't think they're still together, not now. He kinda hopes not— he did the whole dating while loving your soulmate thing, and it hardly went well.

Either way, something in her life, maybe her job, led her to leave him that message, and that message has haunted Chuck for a while. And, with his birthday coming up, he knows now what he wants to do. Needs to do.

And so, as he's done almost every week since he was sixteen years old, he lifts up his pen.
Can you talk?

Yeah. I can write, too.

He chuckles, but sobers a little, writing far up his arm to make sure he's got enough space for all he needs to say.
Sarah, I don't wanna bother you, or nag you, or pry into parts of your life that you've clearly not told me about. But what you said to me a couple months ago, how you said it, scared me. He waits a moment, but she seems to be doing the same for him, so he keeps going. I know that we unofficially decided to wait until whenever we're meant to meet. But I don't think I can wait until we're eighty or something

Biting his lip, he watches as her reply fades in.
What are you saying, Chuck?

I want to meet you. You know it's my birthday next week, Ellie's throwing me a party like always. I'd love it if you came. Nothing appears from her after a minute, and somehow he writes nervously, rambling in writing. Or if that's too short notice, or something, just anything, anywhere. But I don't want to just leave it to chance. You mean too much to me.

She waits again, sending his pulse skyrocketing, but eventually writes back, so familiarly.
Okay

He blinks. He swears he must've misread that, somehow, or imagined it. But he traces his thumb over it, and it stays, clear as day. Despite himself, his heart starts to race.
Seriously?

Yeah. I'll book a flight to Burbank. I have work on Thursday, but I can take time off afterwards, I could fly out the morning of your birthday & make it for the party.

Holy crap.
Oh my god. Yes. Okay. I can come pick you up at the airport.

I'd like that. She draws a quick smiley face, so cute. You're still tall with curly hair, right?

He chuckles. Years ago, just after they'd connected, they'd tried to describe themselves to each other, after realizing they didn't have a clue what their own soulmate looked like. If he recalls correctly, he'd accompanied his description with a stick figure, just a tall streak with limbs and a lot of curls.
Yeah.

I'll be the blonde. she says, and he furrows his brow, smirks.

Just blonde? I thought you were a dirty-blonde?

That was a bad high school dye job. Don't judge me.

He can't help but laugh at that, even though the information is a bit of a shock.
I've been imagining you dirty blonde since then! When did you change?!

Right after high school?

I could literally sense the wince in that sentence, Walker. he writes, still laughing to himself. I feel like an idiot, imagining you wrong for years.

She scribbles a face sticking out its tongue, which just makes him laugh even more.
I didn't know how to tell you. Besides, isn't there more to being a soulmate than how you look?

Of course. And you should know, no matter how you looked, I'd always feel the same about you.
No matter who she is, what she looks like, what she's wearing, what she sounds like. He's completely in love with Sarah Walker, eternally tethered to her, too. And they're gonna meet. On his birthday.

Just you wait, Chuck Bartowski. she says, and a rather content shiver runs through him. For the hundredth time with her, he wishes he didn't have to wait at all.

She's literally just on her way out of her hotel room, suitcase in hand, when her cell phone blares in her pocket. She stops, rolls her eyes, but she recognizes the ring tone as the one she'd set for Graham, so she forces herself to tug her phone out and answer the call.

"Walker," she says, and before she can say anything more her boss interrupts her.

"I know you requested time off, Agent Walker, but we have a situation. Report to my office at the DNI headquarters, immediately."

She frowns.
"Graham, I have a flight booked-"

"This is priority one, Sarah," he interrupts, voice low and serious, and she freezes. Swallows. "It's urgent. Larkin's off-grid, he didn't check in for his last mission. I need you in right away."

"But-"
He hangs up, leaves her words unsaid. But she has a birthday party to get to.

Leaving her suitcase in the room, she sighs, locks her door, and heads down. She really has no choice, here, even if this sucks, hurts more than she'd imagined. And on top of that, Graham's words about Bryce are worrying. She knows she has to go. The cab is already waiting for her, the driver annoyed by her delay, and he gets even more so when she tells him to head to the DNI instead of the airport. Only when she offers to pay him the difference on top of her fare does he relent, and let her slump down in the back of the cab.

A minute into the drive, she knows she can't let Chuck wait, excited, due to head to the airport in a couple hours, anymore. Taking out her pen, she writes to him, familiarly. Painfully.
A work emergency came up, they're not letting me get my flight. she says, biting her lip as she waits for him to reply. He's quick, of course, but brief.

Oh

She sighs, presses her eyes shut for a moment. It's his birthday, and she's disappointing him, ruining things.
Chuck, I'm sorry

It's okay, he writes, and she just sighs all the more. These things happen.

It's not okay, it's your birthday. I wanted to see you.
She wanted to be there. She wanted to meet him, spend time with him, know him. Learn the man she's fallen in love with. But her job has interfered, just like it had done with any idea they could meet up before, or when he was in college. Just like she fears it'll always do.

There'll be other times, Sarah

She closes her eyes again, heart racing. God, he's so kind. So ridiculously nice. He should be mad, or upset, and let her know that, but no, here he is, accepting it. Reassuring her. She bites her lip. She's known for a while now that Chuck Bartowski is more than she could ever deserve, but times like these just remind her of that.
I didn't want to let you down.

You can never let me down. he says, and it's like a punch to the gut. She can't think of what to say, really, and he doesn't write anything more, so she looks out at the city around her for a while. It's strange- all that moving around in her childhood, all that uncertainty, and DC is where she's lived the longest, of anywhere. Sure she's gone to and fro across the world in missions, but she's returned to the same apartment in the same city for years now. And yet, it doesn't feel like home. Doesn't feel familiar. She's taken this route tens of times but she barely even recognizes it, so often this journey is spent reading a file, catching up on a mission. DC isn't home for her at all, she realizes. No, home is a nerdy reference and scratchy handwriting and a guy called Chuck. He's her permanence, he's what she comes back to, every time. This guy is her damn world. And she just wants to get to him. Before she even knows what to make of that, she sees words appearing in her peripheral vision, and looks down at her arm. You know I love you, right?

She blinks. Wonders if the few tears in her eyes are blurring her gaze, making her see things. Despite herself, she holds her breath, pulse starting to pound.

Because I do. I really love you, Sarah, more than anything. And no matter when I meet you or what happens, that's not gonna change

The cab slows, pulling up outside the headquarters, suddenly, and she curses inside. This is not the time; can't the guy circle around the block a few times? But no, of course he can't, Bryce is off-grid, Graham needs her in. Spilling her feelings to Chuck will have to wait. She hates how often things with him have to wait.

She manages to draw a heart, so familiar to them, and that's all, before she pulls down her sleeve, pays the driver, and heads out into the building. A guard meets her at the door, escorts her up to Graham's office directly, and when she gets up there, a dozen agents are standing in the room, talking loudly, worriedly. Graham stands at his desk, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, staring at the papers scattered across his table.

When she steps in, though, the hubbub dies, every pair of eyes finding her, instead. She stands taller, raises her chin.

Bryce was her partner. She's the betrayed, now, if he's gone off-grid. If they'd still been dating, sleeping together, that might've been all the worse, but this is still bad, and honestly, with CIA traditions the rumors probably are that they're still dating. If he's gone rogue- and they can't guarantee he has, but he might've done- then it seems to have happened right under her nose.

She folds her arms.
"Well. What the hell is happening?"

The rush of speech starts up again, everyone rushing toward her, and eventually, she puts the pieces together.
Bryce has always taken his own few assignments, usually in her own time off. Whether she's taken a week off for personal reasons, like she had done right after her realization in Cabo, or whether she'd been recovering from injury, like after that disaster of a mission the other month, when her ankle had had to heal, Bryce has done his own thing. She's done the same, even, when he's had time off. Their partnership may be solid, but sometimes an agent likes a solo mission, and sometimes a mission only needs one agent. And, while Bryce has been on these missions, something has happened. Something that led him to abruptly disappear yesterday, rather than showing up for his mission last night. And now, nobody can contact him, and for a spy of Bryce's caliber and skill, that's not a good thing. He's MIA, and that's dangerous.

They use their every resource, tracking him, his movements, following him on street cameras, time ticking away. When it gets to late evening, Sarah's still glued to a screen, watching and watching footage of Bryce on the subway. She speeds it up, frowning when she sees him exiting a train in the nearest station to this very building. Her eyes flit to the time stamp, and she freezes; he was right outside the DNI headquarters ten minutes ago, walking through a covert tunnel entrance. When she switches to an internal camera, she watches as he crawls up into an air duct.

"Shit." she breathes, before standing and moving to a wall, pulling the fire alarm. It's not a jump, in her opinion, there is no other option to alert everyone of a possible danger here, of an operative working under unknown orders right within the veins of the building. Other agents look at her, alarmed, before she widens her eyes. "It's a trap. Larkin is here, everyone ou-"

The explosion rocks the building before she can finish her sentence.

She was right, when she'd met him. Bryce Larkin is a great spy. He'd led them on a wild goose chase across DC, until it was too late. When the shaking stops, she leans back against the wall, and sighs. She'd missed Chuck's birthday for this. She wonders why she hates Bryce more for that than for, evidently, being a traitor.

Graham holds a meeting in his office- thankfully still intact- thirty minutes after the explosion, and other agents send Sarah sad, mournful looks, some whispering spitefully, too.

"Larkin is dead," Graham says, matter-of-fact, and she blinks. It's funny, she'd expected that, but it's still strange, to think of. The man she'd trusted, the man she'd slept with, is dead. He was a traitor, too, apparently. It's impossible to reconcile any of these things in her mind. Graham continues like nothing is really amiss. "He was supposed to just apprehend and question him, but unsurprisingly, NSA's Casey shot him outside while he was trying to escape. Larkin destroyed valuable information, but before he did so, he transferred the data to a PDA, and sent it away. We've picked up a trace signature. I'll let you know where we go from here. Go, get some sleep. There'll be a lot of paperwork to deal with tomorrow."

People start to move, and Sarah figures she should too, but Graham cocks his head.
"Walker." She stays still.

Clearing her throat, she watches as the agents file out, and waits until it's just her and her boss in the room before she nods.
"Yes, sir."

"Keep this under wraps. Casey's flying out to LA in a day, that's where Larkin sent the information, the Intersect. You, are going tonight." She takes a deep breath, watches as Graham reaches out with a manila folder in hand, an envelope, too. "We don't know why yet, but Bryce emailed the data to his college roommate, this is what we have on the guy. You're to find him before Casey and his trigger-happy personality do."

She takes the file, but frowns, not opening it, yet, and not swayed by Graham's attempt at humor, either. She just has so many questions. Why? Why Bryce, to do this, to go rogue? Why send it to this guy?
"Bryce never talked much about college, or his roommate." she says, shaking her head.

Graham shrugs.
"This kid could be in on it, working with Bryce. Could be the one who ordered him to break in to the Intersect in the first place. Or he could be an innocent, though I doubt it. That's why I'm sending you. Find out what this Bartowski guy knows..."

His lips keep moving, but Sarah doesn't hear what he says next. Maybe it's important, maybe it's not. But she only knows a few Bartowskis, in LA, and she can't even fathom what they'd be doing involved with this.
And then it hits her. Bryce went to Stanford.

"Bartowski, sir?" she interrupts, voice sounding fuzzy to her own ears.

Graham raises an eyebrow, nods.
"Yes. It's all in the file. Charles Bartowski, goes by Chuck-"

Her stomach falls to the floor.
"I have to go." Breath coming in rushes, she looks down, throwing the file down on the desk. She looks at the envelope instead, sees the airplane ticket. And with that, she steps away.

"Walker, the file-"

"I don't need it." she says, heading toward the door. "I already know it all."
She walks away before Graham can say anything more. Before he can stop her.

When she's in the cab, rushing back to her apartment to quickly get her go-bag for missions, then going to the airport, she reaches for her pen again.

Chuck, don't open the email, please. Please don't. I love you.

And, on the opposite side of the country, at the moment Sarah's words appear on his arm, Chuck Bartowski is falling backwards to the floor, a head full of government secrets.

It's been a strange day, really. He woke up on his floor, which is weird enough in itself, but he's also had a splitting headache all day, and he seems to keep knowing things he can't possibly know, in the strangest possible flash before his eyes. Add to that his general sadness over Sarah not making it out yesterday, and he just feels... odd.

For some reason- maybe, trying to make sure he's okay after that Sarah thing- Morgan is hovering by the Nerd Herd desk, even though Chuck's on a customer call, waiting on hold, rather bored. He's occupying his time by doodling in the little notepad he's supposed to make notes in, trying to ease the headache. He seems to be drawing Darth Vader on a horse, which is odd, but that's where the headache is going.

He sighs as he thinks about Sarah again. He'd really been looking forward to seeing her, yesterday, and her message yesterday morning had been just depressing to read. But worse than that was how truly upset and sorry she'd sounded, to let him down. It had been a let-down, sure, and it sucked, but work is work, he knows that well enough.
He'd told her he loved her. She'd only sent a heart in reply. He gets it, if she's not ready now, if she doesn't feel the same, even, but he'd still felt a little sad, only seeing that heart, he can't deny. He just wonders if they'll ever be on the same page. An ironic thought, he knows, considering they've never had to deal with pages to write to each other.

Thankfully, though he'd felt the lack of her presence keenly, his party hadn't been too bad. He hadn't told Ellie about Sarah's coming, so he didn't have to tell her when she cancelled, which meant his sister had of course tried to set him up with many of her friends. Many parties of preparation meant he'd managed to avoid most of them, and simply explained to the others that he wasn't interested. A soulmate thing, he'd said, you understand. For most people, that's enough to get them to back down.
After a while, he and Morgan had just played video games until the bearded guy had left, and Chuck had gotten the strangest of emails.

Morgan mutters something about Vicki Vale, cutting into the thoughts in Chuck's head, but before he can look up to see what's happening, a familiar scrawl appears on his arm, and he shifts his grip on the handset and the notepad to see what Sarah's written.

Look up. she says, and he frowns. He does just that. And drops the phone, and the notepad.

Because, in front of him, pen still angled toward her wrist, with shining blonde hair and a small, teary smile, is Sarah Walker. He can just tell, he knows it. It's beyond a gut feeling. He just knows, the moment their eyes meet. He's right in front of his soulmate.

"Sarah," he breathes, and he sees her sigh a little, shudderingly.

"Hi, Chuck," she says, and it's the first time he's ever heard her voice, heard her speak, but he already knows, he's destined to be with that voice, that smile, forevermore.

Before he's even aware of it, he's walked around the desk, walked right up in front of her. A vague part of his brain points out she's not that much smaller than him, which is a strange relief, and another part thinks, holy crap she's beautiful. But the most part is just elated, overwhelmed, and so so in love.

He slows in front of her.
"I- You're here."

She swallows, visibly, nods.
"Yeah. Yeah, I am."

And then she rises on her toes, and pulls him in for a hug, tight, warm. Their skin seems to spark the moment it meets, her hand on his neck, her temple by his jaw, his arms around her waist, and as he holds her close, he realizes. This is what coming home feels like.
She pulls back after a minute, cups his face in her hands, smiles at him tearily. He rests his forehead on hers, doing just the same, hardly believing this is even happening.

"Hi," he murmurs, and she chuckles softly, wet.

"Hi," she says again, stroking his jaw, before she pulls away. He feels the loss of contact keenly, but she slips her hand into his, and yet again, their skin sparks. He never wants to let go. "We have a lot to talk about. Is there somewhere we can go?"

Though he should get permission from Big Mike to leave, he simply nods, smiles.
"Sure. There's a deli across the plaza, come on."

And with that, he goes to have lunch and talk with his soulmate. The love of his life. Right in front of him, hand in his.
He can't quite believe just how quickly his life has changed. All because of Sarah Walker.

When he'd thought that yesterday, he hadn't realized quite how literal it would be.

Sarah's a spy. His soulmate is a spy. His former best friend and roommate, was also a spy, as well as Sarah's partner and boyfriend, for a while. And, as a birthday present, he sent Chuck an entire database of government secrets, which are now stuck in Chuck's brain.
He was right. Everything has changed.

He hears her walking up behind him. He doesn't need to check it's her- he can just kinda sense it, now. Sense her. It must be a soulmate thing. Not a documented thing he's ever read about, but they do seem to be a little unconventional.

"Have you been here all night?" he asks, as she sits down on the sand by his side. He's always liked the comfort here on this beach, the shelter and privacy, but the wide open space ahead of him. He'd always imagined, here, that he could just walk into the sea, and keep going, and never meet a thing. Now, after the days he's had, he's not sure if he'd walk out and after a while the sky would turn out to be a wall, the world an illusion, Truman Show style.

She sighs, curls her feet up beneath her. He sneaks a look at her, curses internally that she looks so cute, by his side. Nobody else even knows about this spot, on this beach, he likes to think it's just his. But now, Sarah here with him, he knows he'll never want to come alone again.
"Yeah," she says, sounding a little sad. He'd stormed away from her, earlier tonight. After he'd diffused a bomb with a porn virus, and Sarah and the other agent, Casey, had been arguing about what to do with him. Sarah had been arguing in Chuck's favor, admittedly, but it had still hurt. To have his soulmate have to argue to keep him out of a padded cell.

"There's nowhere I can run, is there?"

"Not from us. The government is good at tracking people, when it needs to. But if you wanted to go, now... I'd give you a head start." He laughs a little at that, but she must tell he doesn't really mean it. She does, though, he hears her words are true. She works for the government, she was sent here for him, but she'd still let him go. If he wanted to. He watches as she reaches out, tentatively, strokes his shoulder a little. Her touch, even through his shirt, sends tingles spreading through his body. "Talk to me, Chuck."

"I don't know where to start, I..." He shakes his head. "Yesterday I was making 11 bucks an hour fixing computers, I didn't expect to have one in my brain. And to find you through all of this, of every possibility in the world..."

She sighs.
"I'm sorry, Chuck." He knows. So's he. Of every scenario he'd envisaged, to meet her, after all these years... Getting a government supercomputer stuck in his head, and her being sent to apprehend him, and work out if he was working with Bryce- because she'd told him that, yesterday, when she'd explained everything in the deli, she'd told him he'd essentially been a suspect to the CIA which is why she'd been sent out- wasn't the top of his list. He'd hoped for a meet-cute, like from a romantic comedy, or something. Bumping into her buying groceries, coming across her in a used bookstore. They'd just know, and smile, then go out on a date and never look back. Instead, he got a damn action thriller.

"I know. But I can't figure out why Bryce would do this. Betray you, send this Intersect to me..." He sighs, wanting nothing more than to pull her close. She's always been his comfort, in times of confusion and trouble, and suddenly she's here. But he knows she's not supposed to be here as his soulmate, the woman he loves, but rather as a CIA agent, watching him, guarding him, guarding the secrets in his head. "What happens now, what are you guys gonna do with me?"

She sighs.
"I've spoken to my boss, and to Casey's at the NSA. I had to fight for it, but they've decided to let you go back to your life. I know, it sounds so generous," Her sarcasm takes the sting away a little, and he manages to hold back on his gape, his scoff at her words. "But, really, it's unheard of. Usually you'd be straight in a facility, like Casey wanted. But, I- all of this is so unknown, I thought you'd probably work best in a familiar environment."

"Thanks for that," he says, sincere, but also finding it ridiculous she had to argue for that. She just sighs, though, eyes him a little strangely.

"I'll also never let you get taken, Chuck. Even if plans change, even if they order you underground, I won't let them do it, you should know that. I'll keep you here. I promise."

He musters up a smile, just a small one, but it's real. He can hear the truth in her words, yet again, and realizes she's literally talking about committing treason for him. She smiles a little back before he lets out a deep, weighty breath.
"And what do I do? What's my role, here?"

"Well, we'll protect you, and you'll work with us. If you remember something, or know something, you just tell Casey or I and we'll work on it."
She nods. He's not sure if she's trying to convince him or herself.

"And what about Ellie and Devon, Morgan. Are they safe? Sarah, you know Ellie only has me, I-"

"Chuck." she says, raising a hand to cup his cheek, so soft. Once more, a warm, loving shiver, spreads through him, right from her touch. "I promise you, I'll protect them. They'll be safe. But... but you can't tell them. For their own safety, the less they know, the better."

He frowns as her hand pulls away again.
"The less they know?"

"I-it's why I never told you, what I do. And why I never let anyone at the CIA know who you are. That way, nobody would know, so nobody could exploit you, or hurt you, or use you to get to me, or..." He can fill in the blank. Nobody could kill him. And if Ellie and Devon and Morgan know nothing, then nobody knows about them. And so they'll be safe.

Nodding sharply, he realizes he only has one more thing to ask, of all his questions. And it's not even really about the past few days, but about them, about that moment months ago. He swallows.
"That- that message you sent, that time, you were on a mission, right? That was your blood."

She inhales sharply, nods tight, and though he'd already known it in his heart, her confirming it sends his stomach churning, sick.
"I thought I was gonna die there. I didn't know what else to do. I-I just knew I had to tell you." He nods again, looks back out at the ocean. He wonders if that's his life now, if declarations of love only on the brink of death are what's in his future. The waves ebb and flow in front of him, and he stares them down. Sarah nudges his shoulder. "Chuck, I need you to do one more thing for me. I know it's a lot to ask, but..."

"Yeah?"

"Trust me, Chuck."

He smiles at her, lopsidedly, unable to stop it. Doesn't she know?
"I already do. You're my soulmate, Sarah. Giant computer in my head or not, crazy government life or boring Buy More life, I trust you." He shrugs, reaches up a hand to tuck some blowing hair behind her ear, even as her eyes widen, questioning. "It's kinda hard not to trust you. I mean, I love you."

Her hand catches his, in mid-air, before he can lower it again. Her fingers curl around his own, warm, soft. And for the first time since they met in person, the weight of holding her hand hits him. The hand that wrote all those messages to him. The hand that comforted him after Stanford, that replied after his fights with Jill, that talked with him on Mother's Day, that, one day so long ago, hastily wrote the quadratic formula upon his palm, without even knowing it.
"I love you too," she murmurs, and despite his crazy, crazy, couple days, he feels a kind of peace wash over him, a calm. She's his soulmate, right by his side. And she loves him. And so he leans in, pulls her close, and kisses her.

And, on that beach, side by side, already in love but only just learning the feel of the other, for the first time, he somehow knows, no matter what happens, with the Intersect, with the government, with Sarah's orders and duty, with his safety, no matter all that, if he's got Sarah here, his soulmate, if he's in love with her, then, really, he'll be okay. It might take days, might take years, to come to terms with all this, for the craziness to be over, for the government to leave him alone, for him to ever be safe again, and it could be tough, in fact he's sure it will be. But with Sarah here, he'll be okay.

a/n 2: Well that was quite the ride! I should say, these are not my set-in-stone views of Chuck and Sarah's journeys to the show, they're just the ones I felt best fitted this fic. Also, I have no plans to continue this, since it was so spur-of-the-moment anyways, and we'd be wandering more into canon, but hopefully this wrapped up nice enough for you all.
Thank you for reading, and as ever, please leave a review when you go!

-Kiera :)