Disclaimer: I don't own "Chuck" or The Dixie Chicks.

A/N: I kind of see this as a companion piece to Help Me Make it Through the Night: similar situations, and inspired by country songs, lol. In any account, this is set after 2.19, "Chuck vs the Dream Job."

The lyrics are "Easy Silence," by The Dixie Chicks.

Once again, thanks to BillatWork.

Sarah watches uneasily as Chuck sits on the couch beside her and stares off into space. Even Devon's pancakes hadn't cheered him up after Fulcrum had captured his father. Ellie keeps shooting him worried glances, and he's so out of it that Sarah's able to slip her hand into his without him noticing.

"What do you say, guys?" Devon asks somberly, sitting down in an armchair. "You up for a little TV?"

Chuck finally looks up and breaks out of his stupor, blinking, and responds unenthusiastically, "Sure."

Sarah rubs her thumb along his hand, scrutinizing him. She can't stand to see him like this, so despondent, so depressed. What kills her is that she doesn't even know what to do for him, how to lessen the real-world pain. The only solutions she knows are spy-world ones.

With a sigh, she looks around at Ellie and asks, "If you don't mind, I think I'm going to steal your brother. Is that all right?"

Ellie offers her a small, mirthless smile. "Of course."

Sarah smiles in return, stands, and tugs on Chuck's sleeve until he gets off the couch. Her hand on his back, she pushes him toward the door, stopping only to give Ellie a hug.

"I'm really sorry, Ellie," she says quietly.

"Thanks," Ellie says, rubbing Sarah's back, "but we're kind of used to parental disappointment around here."

Sarah gives her and Devon one last sad look before handing Chuck his jacket and ushering him out the door. Chuck walks listlessly, heaving a sigh every few steps until they reach the parking lot.

"Where are we going?" he asks with a frown, sounding confused.

Unlocking her car, she answers, "My hotel. I thought you could use a night off."

"A night off? From espionage? Seems a little late for that." The words hold a tinge of bitterness, and he doesn't even look at her as he says them.

Sarah frowns as she unlocks her Porsche. "From our cover, from your family, from life." She shrugs. "I just thought it'd be good to get away for a night."

He doesn't respond, so she walks around the car to climb behind the driver's seat. She turns the key, the engine revs to life, and Chuck leans back in his seat and closes his eyes. She opens her window, letting the wind blow through her hair and stimulate her senses.

It's not until she pulls onto the highway that she hears Chuck murmur, "Thank you."

"Here," Sarah says, a small white pill in the middle of her open palm, "this'll help you sleep."

"What if I don't want to?" he asks innocently, lounging on the bed.

"You don't have to take it right now," she answers, walking over to the bed and lying down next to him. "Just when you're ready to sleep."

"No, I meant, what if I don't want to take it at all?"

"Oh." Sarah frowns, setting the pill down on the bedside table next to a glass of water. "Well, in that case, I'd crush it up and dump it into your coffee."

She chuckles, and he gives her a smile, exactly the reaction she'd been hoping for.

"I just thought you'd want to rest," she tells him honestly.

Chuck purses his lips and rearranges the pillows beneath his head. "So you brought me here to take a nap?"

She chuckles, rolls her eyes, and answers, "To get a good night's sleep." Getting more comfortable, she adds more seriously, "To get you away from everything. I know what it's like to have work get under your skin, drive you mad. I just wanted to help."

Chuck twists onto his side. He stares at her, his gaze boring into hers, before he smiles. "Well, thanks," he says softly.

Sarah reaches out to him, her fingers curling as they find his. She smiles at the perfect fit. "I'm sorry we can't split a cherry cheesecake and play Legend of Zelda all night, but we can order some Chinese and pop in a movie."

Chuck breaks into a grin, giving her fingers a squeeze. "That sounds unbelievably good right now."

She gets up to order the Chinese, and by the time she gets back to the bed he's already got a movie in. Her DVD collection isn't that big, and she still has the copy of Serenity he'd leant her a few months ago, so it's no surprise that that's the movie he chooses.

Half-an-hour later, they're sprawled out on the bed, Chinese food cartons littering the mattress. Chuck's barely said a word since the movie began, all night really, but she's okay with that. As long as she can help take his mind off his father and the coming rescue mission, as long as she can protect him from the bad dreams tonight.

She swipes a piece of Kung Pao chicken off his plate and pops it into her mouth, challenging him with a playful glance. Chuck bumps her shoulder in protest.

"Get your own food," he teases.

Sarah laughs and points at the screen with her chopsticks. "You know, sometimes when I watch this, I think I'd fit in very well with outlaws."

Chuck snorts.

"What?" she asks with a smile, only slightly offended that he can't picture her 500 years in the future running from the law with a band of motley characters.

"Nothing," he replies, still chuckling. "It's just that, to me, you're the epitome of government agent. I can't see you switching sides like that."

Sarah takes a deep breath, refraining from answering, because she can think of at least one reason to ever leave the CIA, and he's sitting right beside her, oblivious.

She tears her eyes away from him, digs listlessly through her steamed rice, and finally says, "I don't know. My life could have gone a lot differently." When he shoots her a questioning glance, she shrugs, replying, "I could have followed in my father's footsteps."

He nods, conceding the point, and offers her another piece of chicken. She takes it straight from his chopsticks, chewing with a grin.

"I guess we both expected our lives to go differently," he murmurs softly.

She swallows and looks up at him, worried, because this is the exact type of thinking she'd wanted to steer clear of. "Yeah," she answers quietly, "but I wouldn't have it any other way."

Chuck's smile returns slowly, and they go back to watching the movie in comfortable, easy silence.

Sarah emerges from the bathroom to find Chuck still stretched on the bed, staring despondently at the ceiling. She sits down gingerly on the side of the bed, reaches out to rest her hand on his upper arm.

He turns onto his side to regard her sadly. "He left to protect us," he says quietly, his voice weary. "My dad, I mean."

Swinging her legs onto the bed with a sigh, she moves closer to him. She'd been wondering when this subject would come up, when he'd confide in her about what he'd learned from his father. Lying beside him, she prompts gently, "And?"

"And," he says sleepily, "it makes me rethink a lot of the past ten years. Apparently nothing's ever what it seems."

Sarah places her palm against his face, the pad of her thumb stroking his cheekbone. She smiles sadly. "Some things don't have to be that complicated."

He stares at her for a moment before shaking his head. "I get why he did it now. I get why he left." Blinking sleepily, he pauses. "But does that make it okay? I still spent a third of my life without my father."

She takes a deep breath. "Is this really about why he left?"

He narrows his eyebrows at her. "What do you mean?"

"Are you sure it's not about what you're afraid of – leaving the people you love in order to protect them?"

Chuck glances away uneasily, withholding an answer.

She brushes a curl back from his temple. "I told you once that I'd never let anyone hurt you, and I meant it." He looks back up at her, his tired eyes somehow alert. Setting her mouth firmly, she continues, "That includes not letting our fight with Fulcrum force you into something like that. You trust me on that, right?"

"Of course," he whispers, nodding. "I trust you, Sarah."

"Good."

He closes his eyes, and Sarah, allowing herself a few moments' indulgence, watches him calmly. Before long, though, he starts to hum. It's slight at first, so low she can't make out the song. But then he starts to sing quietly, barely opening his mouth in his exhaustion.

"MacArthur's Park is melting in the dark," Chuck sings softly, his eyes still closed, and Sarah can't suppress a smile. "All the sweet green icing flowing down. Someone left a cake out in the rain."

He returns to his lazy humming before even that fades away entirely. Quirking an eyebrow, she looks over and notices that the glass of water on the bedside table is half empty, the sleeping pill nowhere in sight.

"Wow," she murmurs amusedly, curling up beside him so that his head fits into the nook against her shoulder, "you really have no tolerance whatsoever, do you?"

Instinctively, he moves into her, his arm wrapping around her waist and holding her loosely, the knuckles of his curled fingers brushing against her rib cage and sending a shiver through her. Taking advantage of his head resting against her shoulder, she strokes his dark curls soothingly. He breathes rhythmically, finally calm after the events of the day.

Looking down at him, she's reminded him of their drive to find his father – the tranquility of the open road, the wind blowing through their hair. For a brief few hours, she'd had the illusion of what she's wanted most – just him, no strings attached. Just them, the car, and the highway – that's something she can hold on to, something to get her through the dangerous days and the lonely nights.

And it's something she wants again more than anything. She wants to take him away, wants to jump in the car with him and drive under the stars until they run out of road.

And for one night, for a few brief hours, Sarah pretends she can have that. She pretends they can wake up without responsibilities, with nothing ahead of them but the open highway. For now at least, pretending will have to be enough.

Placing a soft, lingering kiss on his temple, she whispers, "Sweet dreams, Chuck."