The final chapter! It's been very fun writing this story, and hearing your feedback. And can I just say that it made me so happy to see that people actually enjoyed the last chap? As one of the few people who likes Bryce I was a little apprehensive about filling a whole chapter with mostly him. So, thanks for reading and reviewing! But I was missing Sarah, so I hope you have your fill of her here.

So thanks for reading, guys! Stayed tuned for the next fic that I'm working on: an entry for Mikki13's Prepare to Be Heart Warmed holiday fic challenge. It's gonna be crazy fun, so look out!

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Before Chuck picks up the gun he lets his mind go to that place where he's a spy and he can do anything. Well, he tries to find that place. He knows it exists, at least.

Ever since he woke up he's been thinking about his dream with Bryce and what it all meant. What he meant by turning the switch on, what he meant with the license being a spy gave him. Chuck thinks he's finally figured it all out. And he's happy he has. He points the gun straight out before him and shoots; once, twice-- until there aren't any bullets left. The loud bangs reverberate off the walls of the empty shooting range.

When he's done he lets his arm fall to the side and checks out his results. He smiles. "By George, I think he's g—" he stops talking to himself when he hears someone approaching from down the room. He knows who it is before he even turns to look at her.

"You're here early," she says.

"Guess I just wanted to get a head start on the day's work."

"You know you're not supposed to be left unsupervised with guns. Not yet, anyway."

Casey had implemented the rule after last time. Chuck can't say he blames him.

"I know," Chuck says. "I'm sorry about that, it's just…shooting stuff is kind of addictive." He transfers his gun from hand to hand like it's a hacky sack, then stops abruptly to pose with it. "Don't I look like James Bond with this thing? Granted, a more ruggedly handsome version but..." He stops because of Sarah's reaction. She stares like she didn't hear him right, but just as quickly her expression changes again and a tiny sound that Chuck can't quite interpret escapes her lips. It's something like an ironic snort.

"What, you don't think so?" he asks. "I'm more like Farrah Fawcett in Charlie's Angels, aren't I? I knew it. I wouldn't mind the comparison but I just don't think I can pull off the feathered look."

Sarah smirks, appreciating his humor if not quite busting at the seams for it. She's too distracted. "That's something Bryce used to say."

It's then Chuck realizes the look on her face is of someone entranced by recollection. "The Farrah Fawcett thing?" he asks.

"No, the James Bond thing. Except without the 'ruggedly handsome' part." And maybe it's because Chuck isn't saying anything that Sarah decides to expand on that. "It's funny, actually; the first time I met him was at a shooting range. He asked me if I thought he looked like James Bond. And then he mentioned you."

"He what?"

"He said he had a friend at school who would've called him the 'James Bond of Connecticut.' Now that I think about it, that must've been you, right? "

Chuck was just dreaming about Bryce and now Sarah's bringing him up and is this a sign from his dead friend or just all one big coincidence? "You met him at a shooting range? Were you training together?"

Sarah's still distracted, still thinking, and when she smiles Chuck's pretty sure she's smiling at the memory. "Actually, I was training him."

Just like this, Chuck thinks. "Sarah, can I ask you a question? Would you say Bryce and I are anything alike?"

"Aside from your mutual affinity for video games and made-up sci-fi languages? No. Not really."

Chuck nods. "That's what I thought."

While once he would have wished her answer would be different, now he's happy with what it is. He isn't like Bryce, and that's just fine. Though, he is amused by the fact that there was another man in Sarah's life who also liked the nerdier things in life. And that, at least, gives him some hope.

He turns his back to her to tend to his gun, pressing the button on the grip that releases the magazine so he can proceed to reload. It's when she's very close to him-- and he can feel her eyes on him-- that he remembers his random love confession to her the day before. The silence and the tension and the proximity makes him distinctly aware of just how awkward he's made things for himself now. Just as he's expecting her to bring it up she asks something else.

"Why do I have to hear from Casey that you're having dreams about me?"

He freezes and mentally winces. "Oh," he says, feigning innocence as he turns to face her. "About that, I don't know what you heard but they're not the kind of dreams you're thinking of. I just told Casey because I couldn't go to you, for obvious reasons. If there's one thing I learned in 10th grade it's that you don't go over to the hottest girl in school and tell her you've been dreaming about her."

Sarah smiles and even blushes, and it makes Chuck's heart skip with pleasure.

"Well Casey seems to be convinced that you're getting information from the intersect while you sleep."

"'Seems to be convinced'?" Chuck repeats. "You don't think it's possible?"

"Do you?" Sarah asks. "How are you so sure the info you're getting is accurate? Your dreams could be just that: dreams."

"I'm sure."

"How?"

He supposes this is as good a time as any to come out with it. Chuck sighs and scratches the back of his head. Almost timidly he asks, "If I called you Margaret, would that make any difference?"

Sarah is silent, but clearly taken aback. He can see it all on her face. She's never looked more exposed, more naked, than she does at that moment. Her cheeks burn red and even her posture changes, if only slightly. It's like someone who'd been standing on their tippy toes their whole life just, suddenly, stumbled.

And even though she's standing right in front of him Chuck still has the urge to help her up.

Her voice is small when she says, "You got that from a dream?"

He wants to help her up so he talks, fills the air with some words. "I'd love to say it was just some random dream but I'm pretty sure I willed myself to have it, if you can even do that. I don't know why, I just… I really needed to know that part of you."

He waits for her to say something, suddenly acutely aware that they are in a large, empty room full of guns. To say he is scared of ticking off a very deadly agent is an understatement.

"It's Maggie. Nobody ever called me Margaret. I don't think that's something you'll find in any file."

Maggie. "I'm still going to call you Sarah if that's okay."

"I can't believe you found out my name."

"I know. I'm sorry. I should have never snooped into your files like that."

"No, I'm sorry you found out from a dream and not from me."

Not exactly what he was expecting. "Come again?"

"I should have been the one to tell you."

"Really? If I'd asked you for your name you would've just told me, straight out?"

The long pause that follows is answer enough for him. Though, to her credit, Sarah looks as though she's trying hard to find the right words to respond with. "Do you really think that finding out my name would tell you anything real about me?" she asks. "Because those are just details. I can give you my name, my shoe size, my blood type, but none of that tells you who I am. I was hoping that… Well, I'd hope you know that when I'm with you… that that's me. That's the real me."

Chuck understands what she's saying, or what she's trying to relay, but he can't say he fully believes it. "Except for when your job dictates your emotions." If she's been real with him he's only seen it in glimpses.

"That isn't fair. You know there's a line we can't cross. My most important mission is to protect you."

Chuck knows that if it wasn't for her job and her working relationship with him and her sworn duty to protect him she'd let him know how she really felt about him. He knows because of that night when Casey locked them in castle. All she said was "Two bed?" and it had been all she needed to say. All he'd ever wanted to hear.

"It isn't your job to protect me anymore," he states assuredly. "I can protect myself."

"No, Chuck, you can't," she says, looking genuinely sad at the fact. "Not until you can control your flashes."

The only way Chuck knows how to answer that one is by turning to his gun. As Bryce told Chuck in his dream, if he does his part his brain will do the rest. He shoves the new magazine into its well, cocks back the slide and aims the gun at a new paper target, next to the one he'd already been practicing on. "What should I aim for?" he asks, standing sideways and ready to shoot, one-handed.

"Chuck—"

"The head?" He shoots. "The heart?" He shoots. "The appendix?" He shoots. "The neck," he finally decides. He lets out a round of bullets until he hopes he's proved his point.

When he's done Chuck presses a button on the post that zooms the target forward. He unhooks the paper and presents it to Sarah, who takes it, clearly curious to see his handiwork. The sheet is riddled with bullet holes, one between the assailant 's eyes, one where his heart would be, one on his lower right abdomen, and the rest in a neat line across his throat. After examining the sheet for a few more moments Sarah looks up at him. "Did you just flash?"

"I guess so," Chuck says. "Cuz otherwise that'd be pretty hard to explain.

"But how did..?"

"I've only really tried my skills out with a gun but I think I figured out how to work this thing," he says, pointing to his head. "Had some help from a friend in a dream."

Sarah raises her eyebrows, impressed, and hands the target back to Chuck. "So now you're a spy."

He wants to say yes but Bryce's voice rings in his head as he distinctly remembers one important part of his dream with him. "That's not what she wants."

"I'm Chuck," he says. He is a spy, but he has to make her understand that he's still the same guy. "Just Chuck. But I can handle myself now."

She takes it in and Chuck is suddenly uncomfortable by how she's looking at him. It's like she's examining him, trying to see if he's right.

"Sarah, now that you don't have to protect me we're essentially equals, right?" He's testing the waters here because he doesn't know how this is going to go over but he has Bryce's words in mind. Off her look, he continues, "What I'm getting at is that this gives us license to be together. Your feelings about me won't compromise the missions anymore."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because the feelings you're so worried about? The ones you think will get in the way of you protecting me? They're already there." He says it so assuredly and she doesn't even try to deny his claim.

Chuck moves closer to her. The big room full of guns makes him feel like a real spy, and that, in turn, gives him the confidence to say what he wants to say. So he moves close enough to whisper. "We can deny ourselves a relationship but I still know how you feel about me. And you know how I feel about you. If you want, I can go without kissing you," he says, his mouth close to her ear, her lips; and maybe it's because he's still holding his gun that he feels confident enough to say, "I can go without sleeping with you. But those feelings that will affect our judgment—that already are—they're not just going to go away."

He'd say more, explain everything he's thinking, everything he's wanted to tell her, but he's standing so close to her that his mind is reeling. The scent of her hair, her skin, consumes him, and he feels the air between them like static. He steps back to get himself together and sees that Sarah eyes are closed. She quickly opens them when she doesn't feel his face next to hers.

But without preamble she moves closer to him this time, as if instinctively, wanting to keep the space between them as minimal as possible. "Can you really go without kissing me?" she asks, searching his eyes. There is no hint of flirtation in her voice; just a straight question that demands a straight answer. "And sleeping with me?" Her eyes fall to his lips when she asks that. And Chuck understands that to mean only one thing.

They kiss each other like they did the first time, only the roles are reversed and Chuck is the one to jump into action first. He cradles her jaw, her head, and the difference between this kiss and all the others is that there is no first few moments of surprise. This kiss feels like it was coming for a while.

But he still has to answer her question. He pulls back to look into her eyes. They are dizzy. "No," he says.

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This is not a dream:

Chuck's awake in bed and Sarah's in the room too, but she's standing by the window, looking out.

He watches her figure, her naked back, and though he's not touching it he can feel her skin. She is soft. The sensation overwhelms him and he needs to touch her in the flesh, to make sure all this is real. He comes to stand behind her, his arms snaking around her stomach. Her form nestles into his. He has never felt more content.

When he told her he loved her he didn't say it because he wanted to hear it back. He said it because she needed to hear it. And he needed to tell her. He's glad he did.

"Did you have a dream about me?"she asks him.

"Always."

This is not a dream and Chuck never wants to fall asleep.

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