A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first foray into writing - well writing anything other than research papers - so really this is my first attempt at writing anything fictional ever, so I'm quite nervous. I've read a lot of Chuck fan fiction upon discovering this site this summer, and I feel compelled to contribute something to this wonderful, ahem, I mean awesome fandom and collection of stories that have provided me with hours of entertainment. I'm not a creative person so I figured a song would spark something in my unimaginative mind and a story would write itself. The song I'm using that inspired this fic, and of which the story is crafted around, is "Assassin" by John Mayer. Yeah, he's kind of a douche but he makes good songs. No judgment please. The story shifts POVs so I'm sorry if there's confusion, but I felt the song called for it. Is the premise kind of out there? Of course it is – it's fiction. I'm sure there are plot holes, as I don't consider myself a writer in any capacity, but we're Chuck fans, we should be used to plot holes. Would I appreciate feedback? Yes, of course I would, but what I really want is for this story to serve as a tool for procrastination as so many of the wonderful fics out there have done for me. I'm just returning the favor.

Special thanks to my sister. Without her ferocious curiosity and her numerous "Sorry, sis, but that's terrible" and her "Yeah, that works," I would never have completed this story. Oh, and since this is a songifc, please check out the brilliant collection of songfics "Collide" by brickroad16 if you haven't already. Seriously it's inspiring.

Enough with my rambling, on with it!

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, any of these characters, or the song "Assassin." The only thing I have to my name is college loan debt. Please don't sue!

I work in the dead of night
When the roads are quiet, no one is around
To track my moves, racing the yellow lights
To find the gate is open, she's waiting in the room
I just step on through

She was winning. Of course she was.

Turning the wheel slightly to the left, Sarah followed the wind of the road. There were few things in life she found pleasure in, but the sound of an engine purring as she accelerated was definitely one of them. Especially when she was racing.

Sarah Walker loves a good race.

She flicked her eyes up and checked her rear-view mirror and saw the headlights of her competition's car enlarge then quickly disappear from her view. He was coming along the passenger's side of her car now, easily eliminating the previous gap. Her lead vanished and they were now even. She glanced to her right and gave him a coy smile. Once her attention was back to the road, she found herself squeezing the wheel and locking her arms even tighter as the memories of the events leading up to this moment took over her thoughts.

She was able to suppress a cringe.

The past two days she had spent grabbing the attention and time of Victor Nelson. Her intel said he was a weapons designer working for the government. However, it was recently discovered that the same weapons he had designed to aid the government, he was selling to enemy organizations. That was unforgivable in the eyes of her superiors.

He was going to be attending a three day convention, only known via rogue channels, to present his latest weapons system to potential buyers. Her mission was to intercept the designs and systems software through any means necessary, then eliminate Victor Nelson. Those words never failed to make her insides squirm – any means necessary. Everyone in the agency knew what those words meant. She couldn't officially be ordered to perform a seduction but unofficially, that's exactly what it meant. Seduction missions always made her feel sleazy, even though she had a perfect record. It was the fact that she had a perfect record that was truly telling.

Her hands involuntary tightened their grip on the wheel even more.

You get in, you get done and then you get gone
You never leave a trace, or show your face, you get gone
Should've turned around and left before the sun came up again
But the sun came up again

She shifted up a gear and felt her back push into the seat. She pulled ahead of her competition once again. At the sound of the engine accelerating, she released a contented sigh. She could almost forget about the next part of her mission.

Almost.

She preferred missions with Bryce, but he had been sent on his own solo mission for a while and he adamantly insisted that she accept this one. That was the main reason she gave in and agreed to take it on. Luckily, she had been able to avoid sleeping with Nelson. Well, technically, that's what they were on their way to do now. Or so he thought. She wished she could say she'd never slept with a mark, though.

They were reaching an intersection now just two blocks away from Nelson's hotel. As they were pulling up to the light, she leaned over, opened her glove compartment and pulled out her gun and its silencer. As she rolled to a stop at the light, she held both items low toward her seat and surreptitiously screwed on the suppressor. She looked to her right to find Nelson staring at her with lustful eyes. Her insides crawled but she was able to return the look in kind. The glow of green light appeared on his face and they both sped off from their marks.

Straight ahead she saw the last intersection just before the hotel. She looked up ahead to her left and could make out familiar black vans and SUVs in the parking lot of the hotel they were racing toward. Agents were jostling about in black tactical gear, no doubt having already retrieved the data from Nelson's suite using the access codes to the safe, and secured briefcase within it, she had managed to acquire while seducing Nelson. There was only one step left to complete the mission.

As she reached the intersection, the traffic light turned red. Perfect, she thought to herself. Her car slowed to a stop and Nelson was right next to her again, a second later. She gripped her gun in her right hand. Sarah casted a flirtatious and inviting look on her face and lowered down her window to gaze at him. She motioned with her left hand to get him to lower his window. As it finished descending, she dropped her façade and fixed a deadly glare on him.

She swiftly aimed her gun, pulled the trigger, and sped off.

Enter the morning light
To find the day is burning the curtains and the wine
In a little white room
Though I'm not alone, her head is heavy on me
She's sleeping like a child
What could I do

He had about half an hour before the sun would begin breaking over the horizon.

Looking down at the mess of dark brown hair on his chest, he withdrew his arm from around her body and slowly removed her off of his chest. He silently slid out of the bed and dressed himself. With unfortunately well-rehearsed ease, he quietly found his suit pants, along with his gun, shirt and jacket and slipped on the items. He tucked his gun into the small of his back, and put on his shoes. He found his undone bow-tie idly slung on a lampshade and hung it around his neck.

Sitting down on one of the chairs in her hotel room near the window, he crossed one leg over the other and reached in his pocket. Digging out his phone along with the chip he managed to swipe off her person during the beginnings of their intimate union, Chuck glanced at his mark. Just before sex always made for opportune moments to take anything; marks were always less aware then, letting your hands roam wherever, and consequently, remove anything. He inwardly chastised himself for even knowing that.

Chuck stared at the phone in his hand for a few moments and quickly thought about the many times he's performed this routine, along with what instructions normally came next. Running a hand down his tired face, he inhaled slowly and held the breath.

He typed a message and sent it to his superior.

Data retrieved

He silently let out the breath and waited for a response. He propped his right elbow on the arm of the chair and began to roll the chip over each finger, back and forth, all the while staring at his temporary bedfellow with remorse. He noticed his phone illuminate and looked at the message.

Excellent job. Terminate mark.

Closing his eyes and clenching his jaw, Chuck stifled a deep sigh.

You get in, you get done and then you get gone
You never leave a trace, or show your face, you get gone
Should've turned around and left before the sun came up again
But the sun came up again

He opened his eyes and began to observe his mark again, continuously rolling the chip over his fingers. Why did he hold out hope that his instructions would be different this time? It did nothing but make completing the mission much more difficult. He didn't like having to seduce marks, but why did his missions that called for seduction always end up with instructions to terminate the mark? When he completed these types of missions, it always added more and more weight to his already heavy conscience and holding out hope for different instructions certainly didn't lessen the load.

Very, very few of his missions that necessitated he seduce someone ended up with him sleeping with the mark. But even one was too many. He was able to avoid that outcome most times but there were other instances it just couldn't be helped and when it happened, Chuck always felt like just another warm body the CIA pimped out. He was one of the best agents and he would always get the job done, but protecting the greater good was a dirty job most times. It was times like these Chuck found himself wishing more and more frequently for some type of change.

He stopped the chip between two fingers and firmly grasped it in his hand. He sent a reply to his boss.

Send clean-up crew.

He slowly stood up, walked toward the foot of the bed and pocketed the chip. He continued to observe his mark somberly, almost as a form of punishment to himself – staring at the life he's about to take. Yes, the people he had killed were some of the most loathsome and terrible in the world, his current target one of them, but not even that knowledge could stave off his guilt. He reached a hand into the outer left pocket of his jacket and pulled out his silencer. With his other hand, he reached behind and pulled out his gun. Screwing on the silencer, he noticed the dim sunlight making its way inside the room. He needed to finish quickly now. He preferred to never do this with the sun shedding light onto the reality of a "successful" mission.

He held his breath, took aim, and pulled the trigger.

Chuck stood there staring at his work for a moment and then slowly lowered his arm. He let his head drop as he released his previously stifled sigh and stared at the gun in his hand. He unscrewed his silencer and stuck it back in his coat pocket. He then tucked his gun in the small of his back and walked out.

I was a killer, was the best they'd ever seen
I'd steal your heart before you ever heard a thing
I'm an assassin and I had a job to do
Little did I know that girl was an assassin too

There she was, lingering just by the bar, holding a cocktail.

She was even more beautiful than the picture he had been sent. Her simple royal blue blouse paired with jeans hugged her body exquisitely; and her legs were endless. He observed her for a few moments, studying her behavior. For someone as beautiful as she was, he couldn't understand why she was choosing to be alone, turning down every suitor attempting a conversation; her closed-off body language turning them away if her words hadn't done the job. These men certainly weren't hideous, yet she rebuffed them all, almost as if she was waiting for someone. Regardless, this was better for his cause. The less male companionship, the easier the job was for him.

Chuck started to make his way to the opposite side of the bar, just out of her view. He quickly ordered a beer and took a couple of swigs. He needed this to go perfectly. He could certainly tell the importance of the mission through the sharp, yet worried edge the Director's voice carried when detailing the mission objective to him. This tone unnerved him, especially when he considered the consequences should this mission be a failure. Chuck couldn't help the nagging feeling though, that there was more to this mission than what he was being told and thought this particular assignment to be a strange one.

His day had started out strange though, waking up on the floor of his apartment with a mind-numbing headache. All he remembered was his computer being fried after opening an e-mail the previous night from his estranged college roommate and CIA agent, currently rogue agent, Bryce Larkin. He had learned that interesting little fact when the Director assigned him this mission, though his mind was still a little murky during the briefing. This assignment only added to the strangeness that was Chuck's day, when he was tasked with the infiltration and inducement of a fellow agent to learn about her involvement, if any, with Bryce's rogue activities. Chuck had to let out a humorless laugh at those words – infiltration and inducement. Just fancy, and legally ambiguous enough rhetoric to veil the real instructions – seduce.

He was told she was his partner, and perhaps she was involved. It was his job to find out. He had completely lost touch with Bryce once they both entered the agency, but it baffled Chuck to no end that he didn't even know Bryce had a partner. And not just any partner, but one of the best in the agency.

It's not every day an agent is on the receiving end of a seduction. But to be told that this mission would take place at a local bar, one he was informed she frequents when in town, was just another tally on the side of "strange" in his mental scorecard. He didn't enjoy performing these types of missions but this one certainly seemed to be an intriguing one.

Plus she was beautiful.

He shook himself out of his thoughts. He needed to focus.

He stole a furtive glance in her direction just as she was bringing up her cocktail for a sip when his eyes locked onto the ring she was wearing. An unfamiliar tingling sensation started at the base of his neck and suddenly numerous images overtook his vision. He didn't know how long he was entranced for, but once he came back, he looked around and saw that nobody noticed.

What the hell was that? he asked himself.

Another tally.

He shook the lingering effects off but was left with the memory of surveillance footage of his current mark overpowering two men and ultimately killing them, along with taking out the security camera. Chuck took another sip of his beer to steel himself after seeing those images. No time to focus on whatever that was, even if he was impressed with what he just saw. He needed to concentrate on his current mission.

Honesty.

That was his only chance at successfully seducing a highly trained CIA operative. She was trained to see through lies and it would be difficult to lie to her, considering she had probably heard his name around the agency before, as he had heard hers, perhaps even seen a photo of him.

Honesty, he told himself.

He slowly made his way around the bar and into her field of vision. As he reached her, he saw a flicker of, what seemed to be, recognition cross her features as her eyes just almost imperceptibly widened. Maybe she does know me, he thought to himself. As fast as the flicker came, it was gone. To his surprise, she initiated the conversation.

"You've been watching me."

Chuck almost dropped his beer at her bluntness. She was good. He thought he had observed her stealthily.

Honesty, he repeated in his head. Thanking his training for enabling his jaw to stay firmly attached to the rest of his head, he sheepishly replied "You caught that huh?"

She chuckled softly.

"I couldn't help it. You're very beautiful, you know? What am I saying, of course you do, especially if the number of guys coming on to you is any indication. Not that I was counting or anything and I certainly haven't been leering at you the entire time to gauge your responses to

them" he said, in a rushed voice.

Okay, that was too much honesty.

It's like he turned into the old Chuck, before all of the training taught him to control his rambling. Pull it together, she could be rogue and you're blathering on like you have an endless amount of chances to get her to open up to you, he told himself.

Noticing the corners of her mouth start to quirk up, he took a deep breath to compose himself.

"I'm sorry, can we start over? I'm Chuck," he said, extending his hand.

Shaking his hand, she replied "Sarah Walker. You do you have a last name right, Chuck?"

"Carmichael."

She nodded her head slowly. "So you're the Charles Carmichael."

"Um…I suppose I am, yes, but you can still call me Chuck," he said, staring into her crystal blue eyes. He spared a quick glance at their still entwined hands, then back up to meet her gaze again, yearning for the connection, which surprised him. "And that means you're the Sarah Walker."

She nodded and they each reluctantly released their hands from their hold.

"So, we've clearly heard of each other. Tell me something I can't learn from reading your dossier, Chuck."

He thought for a moment but found himself completely taken in by her gaze. Without thinking before speaking, he managed to reply in an unintentionally husky voice, "You have the most absolutely spellbinding eyes." He saw her quick intake of breath and a small smile start to form, and he knew he had received a genuine reaction.

She leaned in close and somehow managed to intensify her gaze into his eyes, causing his own breath to catch in his throat, and responded in a sincere tone, "So do you."

He felt his insides jump and Chuck quickly realized this mission might not go as expected.

Suddenly I'm in over my head and I can hardly breathe
Suddenly I'm floating over her bed and I feel everything
Suddenly I know exactly what I did, but I cannot move a thing
And suddenly I know exactly what I've done
And what it's gonna mean to me, mean to me
I'm gone

Definitely didn't expect this, Chuck thought to himself.

He was spooned up against Sarah, his head buried in her hair, breathing in her scent, and his arm slung around her waist. Things certainly escalated from the bar and during their conversation, he found himself fiercely hoping she wasn't rogue. From what he could tell, she wasn't. He didn't know what it was, but something was definitely different about Sarah Walker. He spent their time at the bar constantly trying to make her smile and was rewarded with a statement that made his insides do flips for the umpteenth time that night: "I like you, Chuck."

He smiled at that memory.

They were in his apartment now, in his bed, and comfortable. Chuck couldn't stop himself from wondering, though, how they had managed to go back to his place instead of hers. Most agents had apartments in Washington D.C. that they stayed at when they were called back to headquarters. He couldn't help asking himself why he allowed their evening to continue back to his apartment and not hers.

He felt her begin to stir and grasp his hand while burying herself deeper into his chest. He lifted his head a bit and could just make out in the darkness her mouth tilted upward, in what appeared to be a contented smile. He listened to her even breathing before he allowed himself to drift off with the same smile on his face.

And suddenly I know exactly what I've done
And what it's gonna mean to me, mean to me

I'm gone

He long ago learned how to pretend to be sleeping when he wasn't, which is what he did as he felt her begin to gently unwrap herself from his hold and slide out of the bed. They had only been asleep for a couple of hours. He opened his eyes and let them adjust to the darkness, the moonlight his only source of light to see her properly. He saw her movements in the dark, finding her clothing and he watched as she slipped them on quietly. Once she was dressed, she did something Chuck found peculiar.

She walked over to his computer and started unplugging the connections.

What is she doing? he asked himself. Chuck slowly and quietly started reaching for his gun under his pillow, careful not to stir the sheets, all the while thinking he was wrong before, and she might actually be rogue. He grasped his gun and she suddenly caused some items on his desk to fall. He knew this was it.

He whipped his gun from beneath the pillow and aimed it at her, only to find hers aimed at him.

I was a killer, was the best they'd ever seen
I'd steal your heart before you ever heard a thing
I'm an assassin and I had a job to do
Little did I know that girl was an assassin too

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Chuck asked, slowly sitting up and turning on his bedside lamp.

"What the hell are you doing?" she responded.

"Stopping a rogue agent from stealing my computer" he answered, "which is fried by the way" he added.

"Rogue? I'm not rogue. You're the agent that's rogue," she said, a mystified expression on her face.

"Pfft, that's exactly what a rogue agent would say."

"That's ridiculous. And how exactly would a non-rogue agent respond to that accusation" she retorted.

Chuck thought for a moment, but couldn't come up with an answer. "Okay, you have a point," he conceded. "You didn't answer my question though. What are you doing?" he repeated.

Instead of answering, her eyebrows knitted as she asked "Did you say you're computer is dead?"

Chuck nodded.

"How?"

"I checked my e-mail last night and when I woke up this morning it was smoking. Hard drive is completely fried." Chuck answered, choosing his words carefully.

She looked around Chuck's desk, in search of something, her gun never wavering. She then let out an exasperated sigh. Then her demeanor changed quickly. Almost more determined, she asked "How well do you know Bryce Larkin?"

"Hold on – what? What does that have to do with –" he stopped himself mid-sentence, the e-mail from Bryce springing to the front of his mind. Why was she so concerned with his computer? It died after he viewed the e-mail from Bryce, her partner, unless she was interested in the e-mail, he reasoned. Did she know he received an e-mail from him? It was too much of a coincidence for her to ask about Bryce after he mentioned checking it. And why was she so curious about his connection to Bryce?

He swallowed nervously as realization suddenly dawned on him.

Because he's rogue, he answered himself. The e-mail.

He tightened his grip on the gun and said in an emotionless voice, "You think I'm rogue."

She narrowed her eyes, "Yes, that's what I said earlier."

"And you know I got an e-mail from Bryce." he stated, more than asked. He was beginning to piece the puzzle. "That means I'm your mark?" he asked, a trace of hurt evident in his voice.

She hesitated, but then looked down with a sigh and nodded.

He steeled his voice. "Was I not supposed to open it?" he asked, not wanting to focus on the hurt he was beginning to feel from their night together. He didn't know if he was more upset about being thought of as a rogue agent, or that his night with Sarah was actually a job to her. Did he even have a right to be upset since he did the same thing?

Her head snapped up, "You opened it?"

"Yeah," he answered slowly. "It was a line from Zork."

"What?" she asked, confused.

Chuck feeling the need to prove he wasn't rogue continued, "Zork, it's a video game we used to play. Anyway, the e-mail, it was like a riddle, and then I solved it, and then there was, uh, pictures" Chuck said, remembering the events of the previous night. "Lots and lots of pictures" he finished.

"You saw them?"

"Was I not supposed to?" Chuck asked, panic creeping into his voice.

"Chuck, those pictures that you saw were encoded with secrets, government secrets, our secrets. If you saw them, then you know them."

"There were thousands of them." Chuck's eyes widened. "Oh my god, the surveillance footage," Chuck said, suddenly understanding what happened to him at the bar. "Is that what that was?"

"What surveillance footage?"

"At the bar, I noticed your ring and all of a sudden all of these pictures started flashing in my head. Then I saw surveillance footage of you taking out two men on a street and shooting the camera."

Sarah's eyes cut to the ring on her hand gripping the gun, then back at Chuck.

"This doesn't make any sense." Chuck shook his head and began to mumble, "Why would Graham assign me to find out your loyalties if he –"

"Graham what?" she interrupted.

She heard him.

Chuck stared at Sarah, realizing he wasn't the only one completely out of the loop. He spoke slowly, "Graham assigned me this mission earlier today. Since you're Bryce's partner, he –"

"Was his partner," she interrupted.

"What do you mean was?" he questioned.

"Bryce is dead" she snapped. She looked at him, seemingly aware of her tone, and added softly, "He died sending those secrets to you."

Chuck looked into her eyes and could see the sadness she was trying to hide.

"This isn't adding up. Why would Graham assign you to find out whether or not I was involved in stealing these pictures, or intelligence, whatever they are – not even telling me Bryce is dead – and then assign me to find out if you helped Bryce?"

"Wait, what –?" she asked. Her gun wavered the slightest bit as she cast her eyes to the floor and continued. "I'm –" she paused. "I'm an assignment?" surprise and traces of some other emotion evident in her voice. Was that sadness or was that hurt? he wondered. She brought her eyes up to look at him.

Chuck tried to hide his flinch and took a deep breath. "Unfortunately…yes."

He saw her lips tighten as she forced a swallow. The conflict of emotions he was feeling crossed her face. Maybe it was real to her, he silently hoped. His conscience was beginning to feel heavy again for having gone through the mission, even though he truly liked her. Perhaps she really liked him, even though she errantly thought he was rogue.

"Okay," he broke the silence. "Obviously Graham is up to something and we both don't have the entire story. There's only one way to find out what it is – get him on the phone," Chuck said.

Sarah, having already pulled her phone from her back pocket midway through Chuck's statement, got Graham on the phone and switched the mode to speakerphone.

"Graham secure."

"Walker secure. Sir, what the hell is going on here? I've got Agent Carmichael in front of me telling me that–"

"You two are in a stand-off?" Graham cut in with an oddly hopeful voice.

"Uh…yes sir." Sarah answered bemusedly.

"Stand down, both of you." Graham ordered, sighing in relief.

Both Chuck and Sarah looked at each other with confused expressions. Chuck lowered his gun first, then Sarah. He began looking around his room, eyes darting every direction until he finally lifted up the covers and found what he was looking for. He reached for his boxers and laid back to slide them on. He immediately felt less vulnerable than he had during his stand-off with Sarah. He threw the covers off of him and swung his legs to get out of the bed.

He stood up and walked over toward Sarah who was still standing by his desk holding her phone, wearing an unreadable expression as her eyes followed every one of his movements.

"Uh, sir, do you mind explaining what's going on? You assign me to determine Sar-, Agent Walker's loyalties and then assign her to retrieve some type of intel from my computer, all the while we think the other is rogue," Chuck said.

As he stepped up to Sarah he saw her stiffen as he reached behind her to get his shirt that was slung on his desk chair she was standing in front of. He slipped it on and glanced in her direction as he walked over and dropped onto the foot of his bed.

"It's quite simple," Graham began. "I wanted to determine whether two of my best agents were rogue."

Chuck and Sarah both looked at each other with furrowed brows.

"Agent Walker, you were Larkin's partner and I needed to know whether you helped him in any capacity or knew anything beforehand. Agent Carmichael, the Intersect was sent to you which no matter how many missions you've successfully completed for us, makes you a suspect. Now, I couldn't fathom three of my top agents going rogue and I needed to determine whether the remaining two were involved," Graham said firmly.

"If I didn't receive this call tonight, then I knew you two were somehow involved. Having three of my best agents go rogue does not make me or the CIA look good, and I needed to keep it from getting out. It was risky, yes, but all three of you going rogue didn't make sense to me. And now I know I was right" Graham finished, almost a hint of cheer in his voice.

Chuck was stunned, yet couldn't stop the flood of relief he felt to not be thought of as a traitor. He couldn't believe, though, that this entire thing was concocted just to see if he and Sarah were rogue. He looked to his right and saw Sarah's face mirroring what he was feeling.

Through his shock, he somehow found his voice. "Sir, what exactly is this 'Intersect?'"

"It's what's in your head," Sarah chimed in.

"In his head? The Intersect is in your head, Carmichael?" Graham asked.

Chuck hesitated. "Um…yes sir."

"We've discovered that, somehow, Chuck is the computer. We don't know how, we can only assume something triggers it, but he's able to retrieve the intel from the Intersect," Sarah said.

He heard Graham sigh. "The Intersect is a computer. After 9/11, the NSA and the CIA were told to play nice – share their intel. This is how we did it. Every scrap of data we had went into this computer. It was then encrypted into thousands of images. Images that you saw, Carmichael?"

"Yes – I did."

"Well….it seems now you are the holder of all of our secrets. Walker, were you able to secure a copy?"

"Unfortunately no, sir. His computer is no longer functional."

There was nothing but silence on Graham's end of the line. Chuck and Sarah looked at each other, not knowing what to say.

Finally, Graham spoke. "I'm going to set up a meeting with the NSA for tomorrow at 0900 hours. I want both of you there. Carmichael, you're lucky I was able to ward off the agent the NSA wanted to send to retrieve the Intersect, though I suspect he'll be present tomorrow" he paused. "Walker, Carmichael – it seems you two are partners now."

Hearing this, Chuck saw Sarah make her way to the foot of the bed and drop next to him, almost robotically, still holding the phone.

"Since this is a joint project with the NSA, I assume the agent tomorrow will also be a part of the team." He waited a beat. "You three will be working together."

"Name?" Sarah and Chuck asked.

"Major John Casey."

"Cold school killer" they both muttered under their breath.

Chuck cleared his throat. "Well, I appreciate you warding him off, sir."

"If there's nothing else, Agents…" Graham let hang a moment.

The line went dead.

She's an assassin
She's an assassin
She's an assassin

Chuck didn't know how long they were both sitting at the foot of his bed in nothing but silence. It could've been minutes, it could've been hours, perhaps just mere seconds – he wasn't sure. He looked to his left at Sarah just as she turned toward his direction, but instead of looking at him, she looked behind them. He followed her gaze to see what she was staring at – the sheets.

He could only imagine what was running through her mind. After sleeping together, facing off, accusing one another of being rogue agents, only for both to realize they were each other's missions, to then be told they would now be partners for an indefinite amount of time –

Chuck took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair.

He needed something to anchor himself to. They both finally looked each other in the eyes. Of everything that occurred during the evening, he knew one thing was for certain.

"Did you mean it?"

Sarah narrowed her eyes.

He sighed. "When you said you liked me."

He saw realization cross her features, a ghost of smile on her face. She opened her mouth a few times, about to say something, but nothing came out. It's like she couldn't find the words. Chuck swallowed nervously and faced forward.

"You know," she paused. "I'm really happy you're not rogue, Chuck." His head snapped to face her. He saw a shy smile start to form. "And, yes, I meant it" she added, as a faint blush started to creep into her cheeks.

He couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his face. It was real.

"Well, I'm not sure if it was clear before but…I like you, too."

She laughed softly, her blush deepening, then leaned over and bumped her shoulder to his.

"So partner…what now?" Chuck asked.

"Well, personally I'm exhausted," she said as she stood up. "And we have a long and probably confusing day ahead of us. I think sleep is imperative."

"Y'know…you can sleep here...if you want?" he asked as he rose, hope swathing the question.

She craned her neck to look at the bed behind them, then turned to look him in the eyes. It was that gaze that, as Chuck quickly learned earlier in their evening, left him with only the ability to match it.

She smiled. "Sure."

He smiled and walked back to his side of the bed.

"Uh, Chuck? Do you have a shirt I can wear?"

"Oh! Yeah, yeah sure." He pointed to the dresser on the other side of the bed. "Second drawer from the top."

She took the few steps to reach his dresser and pulled out a well-worn t-shirt. He saw her pause with the shirt in her hand as she stared at it.

"Well, I'm just going to…" he said, as he gestured to the lamp. He clicked it off to allow her some measure of modesty as she changed, and himself as he discarded his own shirt before sliding into bed. He heard the rustling of her clothing as she slipped out of them and into his shirt. He thought he heard a deep inhalation, but couldn't be sure of it.

He could hear her shallow footsteps before he felt the other half of his bed dip. She was lying on her side, her back facing him, and he was on his back, about a foot and a half of space separating them. His mind started to wander, so many questions about what having the "Intersect" meant for him filled his thoughts, but with his current bedmate, he kept coming back to same question –what did all of this mean for him and Sarah?

So many things had happened between them in the span of just hours, but at least now he knew the feelings were real on both sides. From the moment he saw her, he thought she was beautiful but more importantly, he knew everything felt different with her. He suddenly remembered something that he wanted to tell Sarah.

He turned on his side to face her form.

"Sarah?"

She turned her body around and with the dim rays of moonlight breaking through the blinds of the window, he could just make out our face, her eyes almost seeming to glow. "Mhmm?"

"I should probably tell you something about that surveillance footage I saw you in."

He saw her hold her breath. "Yeah…"

He levered himself on his elbow and rested his head on the backs of his fingers. He looked into her eyes and a slow smile made its way across his face as he leaned in close to her. "You were ridiculously good."

She released her held breath in a rich laugh that sounded a lot like relief to him, and playfully punched him in the shoulder. He chuckled while his eyes stayed transfixed on hers. How many times since they first met at the bar had they given each other that look?

She slowly broke her gaze away from him to lie on her back. He followed her hand with his eyes as she placed it on top of the hand he had resting on the side of his legs. She turned her head to look at him and he felt her slowly lace their fingers together and shift closer to him. Turning back on her side facing the other way, she brought their laced hands with her and wrapped them around her waist. She backed herself against his chest and released a contented sigh.

He settled himself against her frame and, as he had done earlier in their night, buried his head in her hair once again. He had one thought just before he drifted off to sleep.

This is exactly the kind of change I was looking for.

Interesting fact: I originally ended the story with Sarah saying "Sure." Then I asked myself, what do Chuck and Sarah fans normally want? More Chuck and Sarah! So there ya go. Thank my sister for that.