I don't own Chuck. If I did, I'd be driving a nicer car.

Just made some minor edits, since I finally figured out how to upload changes. I'm not very smart.

--

"I hate Detroit."

Sarah sighed. It was probably the tenth time Chuck had offered this particular piece of information, and it had grown tiring after the third.

"I'm not a fan of it either, Chuck," she replied, adjusting her gun under the belt of her dress and checking in the hotel room mirror to see if it was visible. "But I don't get to choose who you flash on."

Just a few hours prior, they had been in a briefing with General Beckman in the multimedia room of the Buy More. The NSA's latest strategy for utilizing the Intersect was to show Chuck a series of surveillance photos of suspect individuals and see who he flashed on. The previous several sessions had been a wash, but on this last one, Chuck had gone into his usual trance and then unloaded with a goldmine of information on one suspect in particular:

"Maxwell Adler. American citizen with ties to several terrorist organizations, including Jacob's Ladder. Arms dealer. Current base of operations—"

"Detroit," General Beckman interrupted. She was smiling a rare smile, obviously pleased that the new strategy was working. "You leave in an hour."

The surveillance photo of Adler had been snapped in the lobby of the Detroit Westin, so Chuck and Sarah had checked in under their Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael cover. Sarah had noticed a change in Chuck since the moment they had touched down and exited the NSA jet into the frigid early evening. He had seemed sullen, almost surly. Even Casey appeared to give him some distance, going on ahead of them to scout the hotel.

Now, in their hotel room, there was no levity, none of Chuck's usual nervous banter before a mission. He just stared out the window into the snowy night, still in his BuyMore shirt and tie. Sarah had changed into an elegant dinner dress, right behind him, and if he had snuck a glance it was without her even noticing.

"We should get to the hotel bar," Sarah said, gently. "Adler was spotted there last night, it seems the best place to go to find him again." If Chuck had heard he didn't show it. Sarah was about to ask him what was wrong when he finally spoke, in a melancholy tone.

"Do you ever wonder what would have happened if we'd met a different way?"

It came out of nowhere, spun Sarah around. It didn't match the Chuck she knew; didn't even seem to match this surly version of Chuck. Maybe it was the cold weather, or the dismal city, but this wasn't the Chuck she was used to. And yet there was something oddly appealing about the change - a touch of confidence she wasn't used to seeing in her asset.

"What do you mean?"

Chuck turned and looked right at her, those brown eyes now narrow under a furrowed brow. "I mean, if we had passed on the street. If I was just a guy and you were just a girl. I'd have looked at you; I know that. Would you have noticed me?"

Definitely not the Chuck she knew. But whereas before she'd found his clumsy, awkward ramblings endearing in a goofy way, this directness, this confidence… Sarah felt a twinge in her gut.

"I… I don't know. It's hard to say, now that I know you."

Chuck nodded and turned to look back out the window. "You go on ahead. I'll be up in a few minutes."

"Chuck, I can't leave you—"

Chuck turned his head halfway towards her and cut her off. "I'm not alone. I'm never really alone, am I? I'm betting the room has more than its share of bugs. I'm sure Casey's lurking around dressed as a waiter or a bellboy or something. I'm sure there's an NSA sniper on the next roof. So please just give me a couple minutes, and I'll be right behind you. I promise."

He didn't sound angry; at least not at her. He sounded frustrated and tired and maybe even a little sad. Maybe her answer hadn't been what he was hoping for. But it was the truth, wasn't it? Sarah saw a hundred men on the street every day. Would she notice a guy like Chuck?

"All right," she whispered, and walked out.

The hotel bar was on the top floor, with floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the city lights. The bar was almost empty; no sign of Adler and just a few business-suit types huddled together at the bar. Sarah was instantly aware of their attention as she crossed the bar to a table by the windows, but ignored them easily and instead focused her gaze out the window. The snow was really coming down now.

She thought about what Chuck had asked her. She was almost positive that before she met him, she never would have paid attention to a guy like Chuck. She had always been drawn to the bad boys – in her profession, there weren't many good ones – and Bryce was the perfect example of that. Headstrong, volatile, unpredictable… and where had that gotten her? Broken hearted twice, once when she thought he was dead and again when he came back. And that, really, was when she knew she needed someone like Chuck. But walking down the street? She couldn't say.

One of the suit's voices, talking to the waitress at the bar, broke Sarah out of her reflections.

"Celeste, do us again please, and put the lady's drink on our bill."

Sarah sighed as the waitress approached. She whispered to Sarah conspiratorially:

"Those guys want to buy you a drink."

"Yeah," Sarah replied. "I get that. Tell them I'd rather pay for my own. Jack Daniels, please, water on the side."

The waitress smiled and headed for the bar, returning a moment later with Sarah's drink, trailed by one of the suits. The waitress left the drink and the suit sat across from Sarah.

"Excuse me. My associates and I made a bet on what you do for a living."

Sarah glanced at the bar, saw the other two watching.

"And I won. Hi, I'm Philip."

"If it's okay with you, Philip, I'd like to just have a quiet drink by myself. Okay?"

"Don't you want to know what I guessed? How I know what you do for a living?"

"Tell you the truth, I'm not even mildly curious. Really, I don't want to be rude, Philip; I'd just like to be left alone."

Sarah turned back to the snowstorm, hoping Philip would get the hint. She saw his reflection turn and leave. A moment later, the next one appeared at the table.

"I think I know why you're depressed - if I may offer an observation."

Sarah just looked at him. So sure of himself.

"I have a hunch you're the new sales rep and your customer isn't exactly knocked out by the idea of a young lady, even one as stunning as you, handling the account. Am I close? Hi, I'm Andy."

Sarah said nothing. Andy kept going.

"We're ad guys. We flew in from New York this morning to pitch Hiram Walker Distillery, present this test-market campaign for their new margarita mix. What we do, we show this guy who looks like a Mexican bandito, you know, with the big Chihuahua hat, the bullet belts—"

Sarah leaned in close and cut Andy off.

"Andy? Really. Who gives a shit?"

Not ready to give up, Andy gave her a sympathetic expression.

"Want to tell me what's bothering you?"

"Beat it, will you?"

Sarah stared at him until he turned away and sheepishly retreated to the bar. She sipped her drink and stared once more out at the blizzard. After a few moments, another dark suit appeared, reflected in the window.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Not one of the executive guys. Sarah stared at the reflection for a moment, then slowly turned, looking up at Chuck now standing there in a navy blue suit, white shirt with an open collar. Sarah sat speechless for a moment.

"Yeah, I'd love one," she finally said. "Would you like to sit down?"

Chuck pulled the chair out, looking at her. The three guys at the bar were now staring as he sat down. He smiled.

"Charles Carmichael."

Sarah hesitated, then understood.

"I'm Celeste."

She smiled with him. He folded his hands in front of him on the table, the tips of his fingers just close enough to touch hers as they grasped her glass. She watched his expression as she brought her hand out slowly, his eyes not leaving hers, and laid her hand on his. The tips of her fingers brushed his knuckles, lightly back and forth.

"It takes hours to get a drink around here. There's only one waitress."

"I can go to the bar."

"Don't leave me."

"Those guys bother you?"

"No, they're all right. I mean, you just got here."

She picked up her drink and placed it in front of him.

"Help yourself."

Chuck took a sip, smacked his lips.

"You like bourbon?"

"Love it."

"Well, we got that out of the way. Tell me, Celeste. What do you do for a living?"

Sarah searched back for one of her standard cover IDs, settling instead for something she'd just heard:

"I'm a sales rep. I came here to call on a customer and they gave me a hard time because I'm a girl."

"Is that how you think of yourself?"

"What, as a sales rep?"

"A girl."

"I don't have a problem with it."

"I like your hair. I like that dress."

Sarah smiled wide. He had noticed. Maybe even snuck a peek in the hotel room while she changed?

"A little classier than my work clothes," she said.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. Much classier, actually."

"I'm sure you look great in anything."

Sarah smiled again, then decided to change the subject before things got out of hand.

"So, what do you do for a living, Charles?"

"I'm a software designer. I started a little computer game company a couple years ago and it seems to have taken off."

"Very interesting. And you live here in Detroit?"

"Wouldn't dream of it. I can't take the cold weather. Makes me cranky."

Ah, Sarah thought. I was right.

"I can hardly blame you."

"Just here for a game convention. We're unveiling some new products at the Renaissance Center this weekend."

"Must be exciting."

"Quite the opposite. I've been bored to tears until just now."

Sarah shook her head a smiled. Where was this coming from, this smooth routine? Had he rehearsed it in his head?

"Sorry to hear that, Charles. But I'm sure you have a wife or a girlfriend or—"

"How far are we going to go with this, Sarah?"

It shook her; took her out of their comfortable little play time and back into their complicated situation. Sarah closed her eyes.

"Not yet," she pleaded. "Don't say anything yet. Okay?"

"I don't think it works if we're somebody else. You know what I mean? Charles and Celeste? What do they know about anything?"

"Then what's your game, Chuck? What are you playing at?"

"It's not a game. Something you play."

"Well, does it make sense to you?"

Chuck took another sip of Sarah's drink, seemed to steel himself, then leaned in close.

"You remember what I asked you in the hotel room?"

"It's all I've been thinking about since."

Chuck nodded, then breathed deep.

"The first time I saw you, I felt a spark. There was a kind of recognition. Like I knew something about you. And I felt like there was this moment, this few seconds where if I didn't do something, this amazing person was going to walk off and out of my life, and I'd spend the rest of my life wondering 'what if.' That's never happened to me before. I think maybe it only happens a few times in your life."

Sarah blinked. She hadn't expected that.

"Or once," Chuck continued.

Sarah felt her heart skip. She took a deep breath, tried to keep hold of her emotions.

"You know our situation, Chuck. If anything were to happen between us – it would be a risk. You know that."

Chuck answered immediately, without even flinching. "It would be worth the risk."

Sarah looked at him, sitting across from her in a suit she didn't even know he owned, every bit the confident man she knew he could be. It was almost dizzying. She shook her head.

"Sooner or later…"

Sarah stopped herself. No more doom and gloom, she thought. Not tonight. Instead:

"You really wear that suit."

"That's not what you were about to say."

Sarah leaned in, suddenly smiling again.

"Remember the first time we kissed, I mean, really kissed?"

"Are you kidding me?"

Sarah smiled wider. "Your hands. They were holding me so tight, running all up and down my body."

"Yeah, but in a nice way."

"I thought it was the end. I thought those were the last few seconds of my life. And all I could think about was how much I'd wanted to kiss you for so long, and that now this was going to be my only chance."

Chuck smiled, seemed relieved.

"So I wasn't just the closest pair of lips."

"Of course not."

"Can't blame a guy for wondering. Especially given the situation."

Sarah nodded, then thought of something else and rolled her eyes.

"Then you gave me the whole 'friends' bit."

Chuck sighed. "I thought that's what you wanted."

"I know, I just - I was thinking about you by then, a lot, wondering what it would be like if we could take a time-out…"

The old Chuck was back for a moment; stuttering, stumbling Chuck, pouncing on this moment of serendipity, and Sarah was happy to see him.

"That's – that's exactly what I meant in the hotel room. If – if we could just be a boy and a girl; take a time out and just be us."

"So you put on a suit and became Charles Carmichael, game designer? That's 'just being us' to you?"

Chuck shrugged, half a grin on his face. "Worth a shot."

Sarah reached across the table and took his hands in hers.

"You asked me if I would have noticed you walking down the street. And the truth of the matter is that no, Chuck, I wouldn't have."

Chuck seemed to deflate a bit, but Sarah was quick to continue.

"But the thing is, we didn't pass on the street. We met the way we met, and there's nothing we can do to change that. And Chuck, it's because of the way we met that I got to see what an amazing man you are."

That brought Chuck back to life. He looked back up at Sarah, his expression brightening.

"You, Chuck; not Charles Carmichael or anyone else. You."

Chuck beamed. He pulled one of his hands out from under Sarah's and touched her cheek. He opened his mouth to respond when his watch beeped. Sarah sighed, and they both discreetly activated their earpieces.

"Yes, Casey?" Sarah asked.

"Hate to intrude on such a lovely exchange…"

They both winced. They'd actually forgotten that Casey would be listening in.

"…but just thought I'd let you know that we came out here for nothing. Adler's been spotted in Long Beach. Jet's grounded tonight because of the weather. We fly back in the morning."

With that, the earpieces went dead. Sarah switched hers off and removed it, dropping it into her purse.

"Looks like we have the rest of the night off," she said. They smiled at each other, and Chuck leaned in toward Sarah. Sarah leaned in the same amount, until their faces were very close. Chuck lightly brushed his nose against hers, and Sarah felt a chill go through her, from just that little touch. She imagined what more than 'a little' would feel like.

"Let's get out of here," she said.