A/N – My wife and I watched Love Actually tonight. It's one of her faves and we watch it pretty often. I don't know what in the world made me think of Sarah watching it, but I'm afraid it may mean that I need to be medicated. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little bit of drabble.

I don't own Love Actually, and I still don't own Chuck. I'd rather own Sarah given the choice, but NBC hasn't offered either one to date.

--

Sitting alone by the window in an apartment that wasn't really hers, Sarah was gazing out over the lights of Los Angeles as the menu screen of one of her favorite DVDs repeated itself endlessly in the background. The city at night was a tableau that lent itself to philosophizing, and Sarah was indulging herself, meditating on a profound truth that she discovered in a movie, of all things.

Everyone wants to fall in love.

It's the way we're built. No one is immune, not even super-duper killer government spies.

Even Casey, who pretends to be the hardest case since Samsonite, has felt the sting. All it takes is one mention of Ilsa, and a haunted, faraway look fogs his eyes, and he retreats to his recliner and nurses the same glass of scotch for hours.

Sarah can relate.

--

She'd been feeling miserable today. Work at the Orange Orange stunk as usual, there was no mission to distract her, Casey was being his usual loner self, and Chuck was out with Morgan watching the latest in the endless string of movies adapted from comic books. And of course, Sarah had no friends to spend time with. So she turned to her crutch, the one outlet she had for all of the emotions she kept bottled up.

A good old fashioned sappy movie.

She literally had boxes of DVDs back at her Washington apartment, kept out of sight on the floor of her huge bedroom closet, all variations on the same theme. There were no action movies, no buddy cop flicks, no tearjerking dramas. And God forbid that James Bond or Jason Bourne show up on her TV – she got her fill of that (and then some) in real life. No, every single one of those movies was a sappy Hollywood romance, each complete with the happy ending only celluloid can deliver. She had enough of them to watch a different one every night for months without having to repeat, which would be wonderful if she were ever home for more than a few days or weeks at a time.

But she wasn't. And since boxes of DVDs are a little bulky for a spy to be toting around the world, she had to rely on the local video stores for the very few times like tonight, when she actually had time to watch a movie while on assignment. She had called in an order for her favorite curry chicken as she left the Orange Orange, and headed over to the Blockbuster for the requisite ten to fifteen minute wait for her order. She had thought that she'd be pressed for time, because she usually liked to wander up and down every aisle, carefully considering all the possibilities. But there was no need for worry, because she rounded the first aisle and came face to face with one of her favorites, and it practically flew off the shelf into her hands.

Love Actually.

Sarah was still puzzled as to why she liked this movie so much. It was both newer and British, neither of which was really her speed. She tended towards classic Hollywood, Tracy and Hepburn being her all-time favorites, a preference inherited from her mom. But there was just something about Love Actually that got to her, its interweaving stories showing the highs and lows of love, and it had worked its way into a permanent spot in her rotation of favorites. Knowing her search was over, she went to the register and paid, then picked up her curry chicken and headed home to settle in for the night.

--

Three hours later, the chicken was eaten, the movie was over, and the better part of an entire box of tissues was wadded up on the floor next to the bed. This movie had always gotten to Sarah, but never before on this level. She was a mess. And she knew why.

This was the first time she'd watched it since she met Chuck. And instead of just being able to sit back and watch the lives and loves of fictional strangers, she was seeing parallel after parallel of her relationship with him.

She saw Chuck in Colin Firth's character Jamie. Awkward and sweet, hurting from a previous betrayal, but still able to believe enough in love to take a chance on a girl from a different world, still willing to make the big gesture and lay everything on the line. But unfortunately she didn't see herself in Jamie's Portuguese love Aurelia. Instead she saw herself in Laura Linney, whose character, ironically named Sarah, is never able to tell the man she loves how she feels about him. And on the night when she finally gets her chance with him, just as they are about to make love, her cell phone rings and she pulls away from him to answer it, and he knows that he will never come first for her. For Laura Linney's character it was her sick brother calling, but for Sarah Walker it would be Graham, or Casey, and she would pull away from Chuck to answer it just as Laura Linney's character had. And Chuck would know that he had once again come in second to the CIA.

What depressed her most, however, wasn't so much the parallels that she did see, but the ones that she didn't. There were a lot of happy endings in Love Actually, but she couldn't see herself in any of them. And that made her wonder if a happy ending was possible for her in real life. Would she know when to walk away from the CIA, and would she be able? Would she wind up another agency burnout like Roan Montgomery, only able to face the day with the help of a seven martini breakfast? Or would she not wind up as anything at all, pushing her luck too far on some mission only to find that it had run out?

Agents try very hard not to get themselves into these contemplative moods, because they make all too clear some things that are best not pondered, and that's the first step towards burnout. It's not the stress or the danger that causes agents to crack, although those things certainly don't help. No, it's because they are shutting themselves off from everyone, repressing the most basic of human desires, the one thing most capable of making us feel complete and happy.

Companionship. Friends. And of course, the ultimate expression of companionship, love. All things that a successful agent couldn't allow, especially love. But the more Sarah was around Chuck and his family, the more she wanted all of those things she couldn't have. She wanted love, the same as every character in that damned movie. She dug her way out of the mountain of tissues around the bed and sat by the window, looking out at the city to try to clear her head. It didn't work. As she contemplated the rock on one side of her and the hard place on the other, her cell phone rang. She didn't need to check the display to know who was calling.

"Hi, Chuck. Are you and Morgan having a good time?"

Chuck's reply was enthusiastic even for him. "Absolutely! The movie was great! Morgan had a few quibbles about the character not being true to the comic, but I think I was able to convince him how WRONG HE WAS!" Sarah could hear Morgan still disagreeing in the background; it seemed Chuck hadn't convinced him of any such thing. "We're gonna grab some pizza and head back to my place for some late night Call of Duty action. How was your night?"

"Oh, fine. Just grabbed some Chinese and stayed in. Watched a movie. It was actually nice to relax some."

She must have sounded less than convincing, because Chuck wasn't buying it. "Sarah, is everything okay? You sound a little down."

Normally Sarah likes that Chuck can read her moods so well, but it's a little inconvenient tonight. "I'm fine, Chuck. Just a long day, that's all."

"Do you want me to come over? Morgan and I have gotten in some excellent quality time tonight; he won't mind if I have to cut things a bit short."

Sarah was silent for a moment. She knew which answer she wanted to give, but she also knew what would happen if she gave it, especially given the state she was in. If he came over tonight, if he flashed that million megawatt smile at her the second she opened the door, she would throw away everything she'd worked so hard for and jump into his arms. And even though there was a small but very vocal part of her insisting that she should do just that, the bigger part of her was not ready to make that leap, at least not yet. Even so, it took every last bit of resolve she possessed to give Chuck the answer she knew she must give.

"No, Chuck. You stay with Morgan. I appreciate the offer, but you two don't get to hang out nearly enough and I hate to end your evening just because I had a bad day. Go get your pizza and play your game. We'll do lunch tomorrow instead, okay?"

"Sure. Tell you what – let's go to the Wienerlicious for old times' sake. I don't think I've been getting my recommended daily allowance of nitrates since you left that place."

Sarah smiled. Chuck could always make her smile, even tonight. "It's a date. Noon?"

"Noon it is. Get some sleep now. I'm warning you, if your mood hasn't improved by lunch tomorrow, I'll be forced to take drastic measures. Not to give anything away, but tickling may be involved. Goodnight, Sarah. I love you."

"Goodnight, Chuck."

I love you, too.

Sarah knew that Chuck had said that he loved her because Morgan had been listening, but it pierced her heart like an arrow nonetheless. Feeling more alone than she ever had in her life, she crossed back over to her bed and sat down heavily. She stared at the TV for a moment, and as the DVD menu looped yet again she felt herself missing Chuck so much that it hurt. She reached over to her nightstand for the remote, and a solitary tear fell onto her hand as she pressed play.