Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Chuck. I wish! I don't even have a Tron poster in my room! Does Star Wars count for anything?

WARNING! This story contains exponential amounts angst, torture, and a major character death! I have no idea why I wrote it (or why my muse chose to make this my first foray into the world of Chuck), and I can guarantee it will not make you feel warm and fuzzy. There is no squee moment at the end – nothing to make it all better. If you do venture to read, I would suggest having tissues nearby. I certainly needed them!

(Edit - there's hope yet! If you keep reading to chapter two, that is... If you stop at the end of this chapter, well, that would be seriously depressing!)

The tall figure stumbled through the darkness of the courtyard, one limp arm swinging with each painful step. A short pause to summon the energy to raise one bloody fist before knocking on the door. For a moment, it appeared as though no one heard, and the weary individual slumped against the wood, tears streaming. Unprepared for the sudden wrenching of the impromptu resting place, the limp body tumbled into the room, cheek hitting the cold floor of the entryway hard.

"Oh, my god!" The voice registered as familiar. "Devon, honey! I need you here, quick!" Strong arms lifted the prone, numb figure to the couch.

Summoning the last reserves of strength, bleeding lips uttered, "I'm so sorry. I couldn't protect him." And Sarah Walker passed out.

xXx

4 hours earlier:

Sarah tried not to cringe as the Fulcrum agent leaned over Chuck's unconscious body. Unable to endure even the thought of torture, Chuck had tricked himself into passing out – his one reliable defense mechanism. Their captor had diverted his attention to Sarah for the last few hours, but seemed to have grown bored of her near complete silence, and was shifting his attention back to Chuck. Sarah forced down her own pain and spoke as the man prodded him again. "I've already told you everything I know. He's a CIA analyst, and I'm his handler. We've been trying to find the Intersect for the last two years, just like you."

"Yeah, so you've said," the man replied. "The trouble is, I don't believe you." He walked back over to her, and Sarah hid a sigh of relief. "And I don't like liars," he said as he leered. She longed to break his nose, but her hands were cuffed securely behind her back. Brushing a hand down her shoulder, he reached out with a quick twist and dislocated it. She screamed, but said nothing more. "You know, you're really no fun at all," he joked, making his way back to Chuck. "Then again, neither is he. This has got to be the most boring torture session I've ever conducted. What say we make it a little more interesting?" He pulled a gun from its side holster and briefly checked the clip.

"What are you doing?" Sarah demanded, trying not to let her panic show.

"Well – if this 'analyst' really means nothing to you – I suppose you won't mind if I kill him." Sarah bit her tongue, tasting fresh blood in her mouth as the man pulled out his weapon and released the safety. She was determined to stand firm – call the man's bluff. But the sight of the cold barrel resting on Chuck's forehead was too much.

"No, don't!" she called. "I'll tell you what you want to know."

"Will you?" he replied, turning to her. "Will you really?" He lowered the weapon, and Sarah began to breathe again – until Chuck's body flew off the chair, the sound of the bullet garbled through the sudden rushing in her ears.

"NO!" she screamed, the cry echoing longer than the gun blast. "CHUCK!" Tears blurred her vision, but she saw a dim figure approach. Time seemed to slow, taking with it her grief. Only one thing was clear – she had to get Chuck out of this hellhole. I won't let him die, she promised herself. Not here. Not now.

"I'm only going to ask you one more time, Agent Walker." Sarah looked up at him, blinking hard to clear her vision. She could hardly feel her own tears falling. "Where is the Intersect?"

A strange euphoria kicked in, and Sarah felt herself begin to laugh without really understanding why. She rocked back and forth, gasping for air as her hysteria built on itself. A sharp slap sent her head spinning, her laughter dying on her bleeding lips. She looked at him, imagining a hundred unpleasant ways to end the man's life. He looked calmly back, raising the gun to a point between her eyes.

She took a shuddering breath. "Well you're in a helluva lot of trouble," she said, smiling. Sarah almost laughed again, but a painful jab to her forehead snapped her back to reality. The man raised one eyebrow. Tasting every agonizing word, Sarah spoke. "The Intersect's name is Chuck Bartowski," she said, fresh tears trailing down her cheeks. "And you just shot him."

As she knew he would, the man turned to the other prisoner, his jaw dropping. At that second, his back was to her – his attention elsewhere. Channeling all of her hate and energy, Sarah kicked out with both feet at her captor's thigh. She felt something give, and the man fell to the floor, screaming. Kicking the gun out of his grasp, Sarah stood. With one foot, she turned him onto his back, and sat hard on his sternum, pressing her cuffs into his throat. She looked back over her shoulder at his face as she said, "Take them off. Now." He tried to throw her off, his face turning purple. She eased up her grasp on his neck just long enough to bounce hard on his chest – relishing the sound of his breaking ribs. "Now!" she yelled. He didn't hesitate, and a moment later, she was free. With a dancer's grace she climbed to her feet, reaching quickly for the gun, before pointing it in his face.

"No, please," he gurgled – one of his broken ribs had clearly punctured a lung. He only had minutes left. Part of her wanted to watch him suffer. To see him slowly choke to death on his own blood. But a faint sound from across the room caught her attention.

"Sarah…"

Without stopping to think, she aimed at the man's right eye. "Believe me," she told him, "I'm doing you a favor." One round ended his agony, and Sarah didn't hesitate as she picked her way through the debris that separated her from Chuck.

"Sarah…" She fell to her knees beside him, ignoring the sharp splinters of glass that lodged themselves into her calves. A dark stain was spreading rapidly across his starched, white shirt, and she dropped the weapon, placing both hands against the flow of blood – knowing the wound was mortal, but all the while praying for a miracle.

"Chuck, you're going to be okay," she lied, "But I need to go get you some help." He grasped her hands weakly.

"No. Don't leave me." Her stomach twisted, but she didn't move. She couldn't. "I'm sorry," he said in a whisper. She tried unsuccessfully to swallow the painful lump in her throat. "I'm sorry that –"

"Don't you dare apologize for anything," she said harshly. "You didn't do anything wrong, Chuck. You're a hero." She sniffed loudly. "Even though you never wanted to be." He took a gasping breath as she continued. "I'll make sure everyone knows it," she promised. "Ellie, Morgan, everyone. Just…" she stopped, a sob escaping her throat, "Don't leave me. Please."

"I don't want to," he said, his eyes drifting closed. "It doesn't hurt anymore, actually." Sarah sobbed again.

"Chuck," she whispered, "Look at me." His eyes were slow to open, and she began to fear it was too late. But when his unfocused gaze finally found hers, she smiled at him. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he murmured. "But I think you already knew that." Their eyes still locked, Sarah leaned down – her hair falling like a halo around his head – and kissed him softly. With one last smile, his breathing stilled, and he was gone.

"I'm so sorry…" she sobbed, burying her face into his blood soaked shirt. Agony unlike anything she had ever known tore through her, and she screamed as she clutched him tighter, wishing for nothing more than the world to fall down around them both. She had no way of knowing how long she lay there with him, until strong hands pried hers loose with an uncommon gentleness.

"C'mon, Walker," Casey said, trying to check her for injuries. "It's over. He's gone."

"No!" she screamed, clutching for him again. She recoiled as she noticed how cold he'd become, and stared at his face instead, etching its peaceful expression into painful memory.

"You need to get to a hospital," her partner said softly. "I'll take care of Chuck." A sob escaped Sarah's throat at the mention of his name, and she hugged her arms across her chest.

"What am I going to tell Ellie?" she whispered, fresh tears streaming down her face.

"I'll take care of that," Casey replied, reaching out a hand to help her to her feet. Sarah took it, while surreptitiously reaching for the discarded gun with her other hand. She used her position as leverage to pull Casey to the ground, at the same time swinging the weapon into sharp contact with his head. His limp form fell next to Chuck's, his breathing slow and steady.

"I can't let you do that," she said in apology, knowing he couldn't hear her. "It's my fault." She leaned down once more, brushing a soft kiss across the forehead of the man she'd loved before standing unsteadily. After rummaging through Casey's pocket for car keys, she stumbled from the warehouse, one goal focused in her mind. I have to get to Ellie before anyone else does.

xXx

That was how she came to find herself propped up in the Bartowski's living room, bandages and ice covering the worst of her injuries. Ellie sat near her feet, carefully picking glass from her shins. Sarah groaned and tried to push herself up, only to find Devon's strong hand pressing her shoulder back into the pillows.

"I've called an ambulance," he said gently. Sarah was surprised she still had the presence of mind to note his tone. He really does have a good bedside manner, she thought. "They'll be here soon."

It was as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown over her head. "No!" she cried, trying again to sit up.

"Sarah, sweetie," Ellie began, "You have multiple lacerations, a dislocated shoulder, and what looks to be a very bad concussion. We need to get you to the hospital and check for internal bleeding." At the wild look of panic on her friend's face, her eyes softened. "What happened?" Sarah shook her head, fighting back memories of the last few hours. She'd come here for a reason, and she was determined to see it through.

"Ellie," she said, her voice breaking. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't protect him."

"You said that before," Devon observed.

"Is Chuck okay?" Ellie asked suddenly, the terrible possibilities only starting to dawn on her. All Sarah could do was sob and shake her head. Tears streamed down the doctor's face as one hand flew to her throat. "Is he… dead?" Sarah didn't say anything. But she didn't need to. Ellie began to scream, and Devon raced to collect her in his arms. Sarah watched as he stroked her back and rocked her gently back and forth, suddenly very conscious of just how alone she was now. Tasting bile, Sarah jumped up from the couch, reaching the kitchen sink just in time to throw up. She was still heaving long after her stomach had emptied itself, moving back into the living room only when a calming numbness spread through her. Sitting as far away from the couple as she could, Sarah listened for sounds of a siren so she would know when to make her exit. She'd be damned if she'd let herself be taken to the hospital now. Devon's voice snapped her out of her reverie.

"What happened?" he asked. Sarah looked up at him, watching as he cradled his fiancée. She took a deep breath, determined to get everything out while the blessed numbness persisted.

"I work for the CIA," she began. "So does Bryce Larkin. Two years ago, Bryce emailed Chuck coded images from a joint CIA/NSA computer called the Intersect. When Chuck opened the email, these images were embedded into his brain. He's been working with us ever since – giving us intel that has helped save thousands of lives. He's a hero," she whispered, taking another breath. "John Casey works for the NSA. The two of us became Chuck's handlers – we protected him from a rogue organization within the CIA that wanted nothing more than to get their hands on him. It was decided that I would pose as Chuck's girlfriend while Agent Casey took a job at the Buy More. It was the perfect cover – until Fulcrum started sending agents. None of them ever had the chance to report back to their superiors, but the fact that Fulcrum agents had a habit of disappearing around this particular location was enough to make them suspicious. Early this morning, they set up an ambush, running Chuck and I off the road on our way into work…" She paused, not wanting to hurt Chuck's family with the gruesome details of the torture.

"And Chuck is dead?" Ellie asked, her voice that of a hurt child. Sarah couldn't respond, only nodded as fresh tears fell. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered if they would ever stop. She watched as Ellie slowly stood, Devon's hand tightly gripping her elbow. Ellie made her way over to Sarah, swallowing hard. Before the agent could react, Ellie slapped her hard across her already bruised and swollen face, causing the world to darken and her ears to ring.

"Ellie, don't," Devon said, trying to grab her still swinging hand. Sarah didn't even try to protect herself from the blows, knowing she deserved every last one of them.

"He loved you!" Ellie screamed. "Chuck loved you – I could see it in his eyes. And he was nothing to you, wasn't he? Just a tool – something that could use. Did you ever once think about his feelings? Did you ever really care what happened to him?" Devon grabbed her around the waist, bodily hauling her across the room. Sarah didn't move – still slumped in defeat.

"I loved him," she whispered. Ellie's sobs drowned out her own, but the dam had burst, and Sarah found she could contain it no longer. "I loved him!" she screamed at the ceiling. "I LOVED HIM!!!" She fell into a heap on the floor, just as the front door burst open. Casey entered, his gun at the ready. Finding the room empty of the enemy, he raised his watch.

"It's clear," he whispered into the microphone. "I've got her." He bent down and grasped Sarah's wrists just long enough to place them in handcuffs. "For your own protection," he said, wincing as he rubbed the back of his head. "And mine." But she knew he needn't have bothered. There was no fight left in Sarah Walker. She lay limp, her eyes pleading with him to do what he did best and end her agony. "Not today," he murmured, pulling a syringe from his pocket. He injected it into her shoulder, and Sarah felt the world become cloudy. Casey's voice seemed garbled as he said, "Chuck's body is being taken to the morgue. There's no need for you to identify the body, but if you'd like to see him…" The last thing Sarah heard was Ellie's renewed sobs before everything faded gently to black.

Okay, so that was depressing! There's really no upside to this. It just popped into my head, begging to be set down on paper. Made me go through tons of tissues, too!!! :-(

I don't know if I even want to continue this… A funeral would just be even more miserable.