Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck.

The poem is "May Wind," by Sara Teasdale.

Ahh! A thousand thanks to Go Chuck Go for beta-ing!

I said, "I have shut my heart

As one shuts an open door,

That Love may starve therein

And trouble me no more."

Sarah stirred, loath to open her eyes. The sun felt so warm on her face, and the arms wrapped around her felt so sturdy and loving. Taking a deep breath, she let the scents of grass, and flowers, and fresh air invade her nostrils. She smiled to herself, shifting in her companion's arms.

"Sarah, you awake?" he asked.

Even with her eyes closed, she recognized Chuck's soothing voice. She groaned, indicating her unwillingness to open her eyes, and turned her body around to bury her head into his neck.

He chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes." He stroked her hair, the touch calling her fully out of her sleep.

Reluctantly, she slowly opened her eyes, blinking in the sunlight. He smiled at her affectionately, and she responded by wrapping her arm around his waist.

"Hey, you," he said softly, inclining his head for a kiss.

Sarah granted his request, melting into him. The touch of his lips was intensely satisfying, and he broke away far too soon. She twisted around, and as she did so, she realized that they were lounging in a hammock.

Odd. She didn't recall owning a hammock or ever seeing one at Chuck's place.

Glancing around, she saw that they weren't at Chuck's place at all. They were in the back yard of a house. The house was fairly large from what she could tell. A little smile appeared on her face at the sight of the patio and the grill – such normal things that she had hardly ever experienced. She looked around more, seeing a small garden to their left, bursting with a plethora of vibrantly-colored flowers that she couldn't name. Towering pine trees lined the side of the lot behind the garden.

"Where are we?" she asked, turning to look at Chuck.

His eyes revealed his confusion. "What do you mean? This is our house, honey."

She raised her eyebrows. She loved Chuck, she was sure of it, but throughout their infuriatingly undefined relationship, she struggled with the decision of giving up her life at the agency in order to start another one with him. The agency, after all, had been her entire life for the past seven years. Slowly, painstakingly, though, he began reintroducing her to herself. And she reveled in the comfort her provided her, so intensely different from the comfort she sought and found in her work.

Her job was a sure thing. A relationship with Chuck was the complete opposite – uncertain, unpredictable, volatile. She had meant it when she had told him that she wasn't good at relationships, and she wasn't entirely convinced that she could handle the explosive nature of her feelings for him.

She had fought off those feelings by becoming his personal protector, his guardian and advocate. Sure, she was his official government handler, but this was more. This was a private promise to herself to keep him safe at all costs. But it was only a temporary fix.

She couldn't hold back her love for him forever, no matter how scared she was.

"We live here?" she asked.

He nodded, concerned.

"Are we married?" she inquired, but she could answer her own question. Without tearing her gaze from Chuck's, she fiddled with the delicate band on the ring finger of her left hand. "How long?"

He swallowed. "Four months."

She closed her eyes, relieved. Four months. Not long enough for kids.

Not that Sarah was opposed to starting a family with Chuck. She would love to have children with him someday. She imagined kids with his curls and his smile, and maybe her eyes, running around playfully and happily in this very yard. But for an agent, so used to self-reliance and so caught up in the thrill of danger, the prospect of motherhood was indefinably daunting.

Someday, though. Perhaps someday.

"Sarah, are you feeling all right? What's gotten into you?" Chuck asked, worry laced through his voice.

She nodded, breathing in the warm summer air. She gave him a smile and attempted to get out of the hammock.

He grabbed her wrist gently, saying, "Slowly, Sarah. You'll tear your stitches."

"What?" she asked. "What are you talking about, Chuck?"

"Stop," he said, more forcefully this time. He gestured at her stomach. She looked down, her eyes widening. In shock, her fingertips grazed the bloodstained shirt. The pain hit her in a burst.

"You'll tear your stitches," he repeated, except his voice didn't sound quite right. It had an ethereal quality to it.

She was slipping away, grasping uselessly at the air. He kept repeating those four words, but his voice, his voice was so different. It wasn't even him anymore. She twisted in agony. The pain in her stomach had erupted suddenly and fiercely. It was overwhelming now, and all she wanted to do was to get him back, get their life back.

"Shh, Sarah, it's okay. Stop flailing. You'll tear your stitches."

She felt soft hands on her arms. The voice was calming, too, but not in the same way as Chuck's. She opened her eyes again, this time finding herself in a hospital room with a brunette doctor hovering over her.

"Ellie?" she asked, squinting against the harsh light of the room.

The older woman nodded, running a damp cloth over her forehead. "Yeah, sweetie, it's me. Now sit still. I've got to re-bandage your entire abdomen."

Sarah watched as Ellie set about cleaning her wound and bandaging it up again without a word. She had a feeling that the doctor was keeping something from her, probably lots of things. Deciding not to bother her while she was busy, Sarah glanced down at her left hand, her heart growing heavy when she saw that it was bare.

As Ellie continued, Sarah set about trying to piece together what was going on. She closed her eyes, squeezing them, trying to bring out vestiges of memories from the very back of her mind. But all she could come up with was the hammock, and the garden, and Chuck's smile.

The summer sky through the window was darkening.

The stars. She found herself suddenly missing the vastness of the sky, and the breathtaking views of the stars back home. But lying there, gazing through the hospital window, she couldn't see one dot in the black sky. The light pollution from the city was too great.

Ellie finished up and took a seat by the bed, shooting Sarah a concerned glance.

Sarah leaned back against the propped-up pillows. In a defeated voice, she said, "If you're worried about me not remembering anything, you're right."

Ellie leaned forward. "What? Sarah, are you sure?"

Sarah's gaze turned to the older woman. "I don't know what day it is. I don't know how long I've been here." She gestured at her stomach. "I don't even know why I'm here." She paused. "I do, however, remember who you are. And Chuck." Sarah smiled wistfully, allowing memories, or visions, of their dream life together flood over her. But then her realistic sense kicked in. "Chuck! Where is he? Is he alive? Is he safe?"

Ellie shushed her. "Calm down."

"No, you don't understand, Ellie. I need to keep him safe. I'm the only one who can protect him."

"Why?" the doctor asked coldly. "Because you actually care about him? Or because it's your assignment?"

Sarah froze. "How do you, how do you know about that?" she stammered.

Ellie sighed, leaning back in her chair. She looked away.

Sarah's heart plummeted. Ellie couldn't even look her in the eye.

Her eyes roaming around the cold, sterile room, the young doctor admitted, "Graham gave me clearance when you came in with the bullet wound in your side. In the space of a few minutes, I went from oblivious sister to the CIA's go-to doctor in the LA area." She scoffed. "Can you imagine how that felt, Sarah? To realize that I've been lied to for the past three years?"

Sarah, suddenly weary, closed her eyes briefly. "No," she confessed in a soft voice. Swiveling her head, she looked to the other woman for forgiveness.

Ellie, a conflicted expression on her face, ran a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry. This can't be easy for you, either."

"Can you at least tell me what happened?"

Nodding, the doctor moved over to the window and stared out at the skyline, her form highlighted against the dark night. "Apparently the NSA gave a termination order," she began, her voice surprisingly calm for the information she was relaying. "Casey came after Chuck. You told him to run and disarmed Casey. But not before he managed to get off one shot."

"Casey," Sarah interrupted, her mouth dry, "Is he . . . "

"No, you just knocked him out cold. They found him handcuffed to the refrigerator."

Sarah let out her breath. Casey had been a good partner, a good friend even. He had been following orders. How could she blame him for that? Even so, she had thought his friendship with Chuck had meant more to him.

God, the look on Chuck's face when he realized what Casey was about to do, when he saw his gun leveled at him. The pain, the betrayal in his eyes. She should have killed Casey then and there. As much as it would have hurt, it would have been a necessary evil in order to save Chuck.

She swallowed, dreading the answer to her next question. "And Chuck?"

Ellie shivered and wrapped her arms around her torso. "He's been on the run for the past three days."

Three days? She'd been out for that long? Sarah didn't know which hurt worse: the fact that Chuck was alone and off-the-grid, or the fact that she had failed him. The knowledge that her mistakes had caused this situation was too much for her to handle right now. Weak and disheartened, tears sprang to her eyes and she was unable to hold them back. They came spilling down her cheeks, and her breath came in ragged gasps.

Through it all, Ellie stood at the window listening to Sarah's uneven sobbing, seemingly cold and unmoving. Eventually, she said in a whisper, "You gave him a bag. Do you remember that?"

Sarah took a deep breath, trying to collect herself. A bag. She closed her eyes again and leaned her head back against the pillows. A bag. She dug deep into her mind again, searching for memories.

"He said it'd keep him from being found."

Yes. She remembered now. "It was a black Buy More duffel bag," she said unnecessarily, but for some reason, that particular detail stuck out to her. Maybe because he gave it to her, maybe because it kept him closer to her, she didn't know. "I put things in it, things that would help him if he ever needed to run," she continued, in the voice of someone calling up vague recollections. "There was . . . 5,000 dollars in cash, I remember. A new passport, license, everything he'd need to shed his identity for a new one. An untraceable cell phone and a list of safe contacts outside of the agency." She paused, lost in thought. "Tickets. There were tickets. I can't remember to where, though."

Ellie turned, her lips pursed in frustration. "Tickets? Plural?"

Sarah finally looked over at the doctor, and the sorrow in her gaze was overwhelming. "When I anticipated that day, I always assumed I'd be with him," she confessed.

Ellie nodded sadly. "I was going to ask if you ever really cared for him," she murmured, more to herself than to the wounded agent, "but you've more than answered my question."

The pity in her eyes was unbearable, and Sarah turned her head to get away from it.

"The list of contacts," Ellie pressed on.

Sarah groaned inwardly and shifted onto her side, away from the window, her head on her hands. She was in no mood to talk to anyone. She just wanted to curl up and waste away. Or go find Chuck and rectify the damage she had caused. Except she was in no condition to do the latter. She cursed silently, failing to understand how she could have let this happen, how she could have let him down so completely. He couldn't survive rogue. Not alone.

Where was he now? Maybe he was running scared through the dark streets of an unfamiliar city. Perhaps it was worse. She had a sudden mental image of him lying dead in the rain in a deserted alley, gunshot wounds to his chest, his eyes still open and staring hollowly at the sky. She shuddered, pushing the image out of her mind.

"Who are they?" Ellie persisted.

"You know I can't tell you that, Ellie."

"Well, if you can remember that you can't tell me, then you can obviously remember who they are. Maybe the tickets lead to one of the contacts! You think?"

Sarah recognized the hope that was creeping into her tone, and the realization only made her more depressed. She was sinking, she knew, into a despair that wouldn't be easily overcome. She could feel the tears bubbling to the surface again. How could she ever have been so stupid? Every single person on that list was safe, yes, but at what risk? She had made a huge error in judgment when she wrote that list. It consisted mostly of friends she knew could be trusted and who understood the danger, but it also included integral members of her family. The list – that damn, indiscreet list – might save her life and Chuck's, but at the expense of others'. How could she have let her love for him overcome her good judgment?

"Sarah. Sarah!"

Ellie was hovering over her now, concerned.

"Go away," she muttered irritably, "I want to be alone."

"No!" Ellie exclaimed forcefully, startling the patient. "You can't do this, Sarah. You can't give up on him."

Sarah offered no response, simply stared at the shadows on the blank white hospital wall and let her guilt sink in and threaten to drown her.

"Don't you understand? You're my only hope for getting him back."

Sarah's heart fractured without warning. She turned and propped herself up on her elbows. "Maine," she whispered.

Ellie started. "What?"

"I think the tickets were for Maine," Sarah said, her voice heavy with fatigue.

The information was enough for the anxious sister. "Thank you, Sarah," she said, moving around the bed to sit down. With a steady hand, she smoothed Sarah's bangs out of her eyes. "You look exhausted. Go back to sleep, okay?"

Sarah nodded gratefully, watching the older woman walk out of the room, and settled down for the rest she knew would not come. She twisted slowly onto her side, staring out the window at the parking lot. If she had any energy, she would scream into the night.

Before she could make a sound or figure out an escape route, though, the door burst open behind her. Sarah's head shot around at the noise, and her entire abdomen erupted in pain. She winced, putting a hand to the bandaged bullet wound.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Ellie apologized profusely, waving her hands. "But look what I found!" She held up a cell phone for Sarah to see.

Sarah's heart leapt. It was the cell phone she'd left for Chuck. But why wasn't it with him? How had his sister gotten a hold of it?

She sat up straight, holding out her hand. "How'd you get that?"

Seeing the fear on her companion's face, Ellie said quickly, "He left it in my locker. Along with a note."

Sarah flicked her gaze back to Ellie in alarm. "A note?" she asked hastily. "What's it say?"

Pulling the folded envelope out of the pocket of her scrubs, Ellie glanced over the letter. "It says he's already gotten in touch with a . . . Mrs. Callaghan, from the list of safe contacts. He explained that he knew you, and she's agreed to give him shelter."

Sarah gasped at the name.

Ellie noticed. "What? What is it? Is she on the list? Will she keep him safe?"

"Yes, of course."

Ellie looked as if she wanted to press her for more information, but knew better. She moved toward the bed and took her hand.

Sarah started at the touch. She tore her gaze from Ellie's. "The phone. Why'd he leave the phone?"

Ellie looked down at the note again. "Yeah, it says . . . he left it so we'd have a way to contact him." She looked back at Sarah expectantly.

Despite her hopelessness, Sarah offered her a small smile. "What are you waiting for?"

Ellie practically squealed in anticipation as she scrolled through the contacts list searching for the correct number.

This late at night, the hospital was already quiet, but an even deeper silence descended upon the room. Sarah's heart began to pound unmercifully as she strained her ears to hear the phone ringing on the other end. After what seemed to her an eternity, the phone was finally answered, but it wasn't who she expected.

"Hello?" a woman asked.

Sarah felt like she had a vice around her lungs.

Ellie glanced at Chuck's letter. "Hi," she said softly, "Sorry to bother you so late. I'm calling for a . . . Mr. Flynn."

"There's no one here by that name."

She closed her eyes. "Please, ma'am. It's his sister, Ellie."

"Of course, dear. I'll put him on."

A pause followed in which Sarah could hear some muffled talking. Finally, the woman handed the phone off.

"Hello?"

Even just hearing him speak allowed her to breathe again.

Seeing Sarah's reaction to his voice, Ellie switched the call to speakerphone. "Chuck! Thank God you're okay! Where are you?"

"Ellie? That means you got my package! Great. I'm in Maine, with Sarah's family. They're . . . they're taking good care of me. You don't have to worry."

Ellie breathed a sigh of relief, but the news did nothing to assuage Sarah's unease.

"Are you safe?" the concerned doctor inquired.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, adding as an afterthought, "For now." He took a breath and changed the topic. "Where are you? Are you all right? Did they come after you?"

"No, no, I'm fine. I'm here in the hospital with Sarah. You're on speakerphone, actually."

"Sarah? My God, Sarah! Are you okay?"

Even from 3,000 miles away, she could feel the depth of his concern, of his love for her. Ellie held the phone toward her expectantly. Her mouth dry and her mind reeling, she slowly gathered the energy to respond, "Yeah. Yeah, Chuck. I'm here."

Silence greeted her answer. He must have noticed her evasion of the question. "Wait. Did you say the hospital? Why are you two in the hospital? What's the matter?"

Exhausted from her emotional turmoil she was currently embroiled in, she let Ellie field that particular question.

"Sweetie, it's all right. Sarah was shot in the side. Do you remember?"

Another pause. "I heard a . . . as I was leaving. I thought it was . . . God! I thought it was Casey." His voice was harsh, his breathing ragged and uneven.

"Don't do this, Chuck. Just be glad you got away," Ellie said, trying to calm him.

"Yeah, yeah," he replied, somewhat unconvincingly. "Thanks to Sarah. I owe you my life."

Sarah managed a weak smile. "I seem to remember you saving my ass a couple of times yourself."

He chuckled lightly. "We made a pretty good pair." He breathed audibly, and, knowing there was more to come, she waited until he continued. "I miss you."

Ellie handed her the phone, backed away from the bed, and slipped out of the room, giving them some alone time. Sarah switched the call off speakerphone, holding it up to her ear.

"I'll see you soon," she said softly.

"How do you know?"

She swallowed, feeling the tears behind her eyes. "Because there's this house I know, with a beautiful garden in the back yard. And a hammock. Do you like hammocks, Chuck?"

He laughs. "Yeah, I do. That sounds amazing right now. Especially if you're there."

"I will be, Chuck. I will be."

Silence again, except for his heavy breathing. She could tell that he was holding back sobs. "I don't know how to do this without you, Sarah," he confessed, his voice cracking. From the desperation in his voice, she could also tell that he's very close to breaking down.

She closed her eyes, leaning her head back. "I know," she whispered, "I know. But give me until tomorrow night. I'll be there, I promise."

"Tomorrow? Okay, I can do that. And you'll have a plan then, right? Please tell me you'll have a plan, because, truthfully, Sarah, I'm freaking out a bit."

She let out a sad chuckle and announced confidently, "I have a plan."

"We have to leave, don't we? Completely disappear."

She paused before answering, "Wait for me, okay?"

"I trust you, Sarah. You know that, right?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"Can I talk to Ellie again?"

"Sure." She could see Ellie hovering in the hallway, watching over her. She motioned for her to come back inside. "Tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow."

Sarah held the phone out for Ellie.

"Chuck?" Ellie said.

Sarah's mind drifted off while they finished their conversation, but a few minutes later, Ellie roused her from her thoughts.

"What do you need?" she asked, sitting down on the bed and taking Sarah's hand.

Sarah smiled. "I need to get out."

Ellie's eyes widened in protest. "Sarah, you're hurt. You can't just walk out of here."

She shook her head. "Speed is essential, Ellie. I've wasted three days already. I need to get to him and get him safe."

Ellie thought for a moment and nodded. "You'll need some clothes, then."

But over the roofs there came

The wet new wind of May,

And a tune blew up from the curb

Where the street-pianos play.

Exhausted from the day's trip, Sarah arrived at her parents' doorstep in Mars Hill, Maine with an unsettled mind. She forced herself to focus on the mission at hand. Right now, Chuck was most important. He was in danger because of her mistakes, and she had to right her mistakes and get him safe.

She took a deep breath, calming herself. She hadn't seen her family in over seven years. She missed them terribly, but the agent in her had suppressed most of those feelings. And here she was, standing on the porch of the home in which she had grown up, and she wasn't even here to see her mother and father. She was only here to get in, grab Chuck, and get him out.

She pushed down the regret that was bubbling to the surface and made a promise to herself that as soon as she figured out this mess with Chuck, which might take years for all she knew, she would come back to her family – the prodigal daughter. Maybe by then she'd be ready to have her own family. An image of them bringing their children to visit their grandparents popped into her mind without warning, and suddenly she realized that she was fighting a losing battle.

But the realization only confirmed her beliefs that Chuck needed to be kept safe and that she was the only one capable of doing that.

Swallowing her doubt, she raised her arm to knock on the door. Grimacing in discomfort from the burning pain in her side, she knocked nonetheless. The stitches in her side were screaming in protest, but she was unable to do much about them as the pain had only been increasing all day. It was late, almost one in the morning, and the night was too cloudy to see the stars. The porch light was off, leaving Sarah to safely hide in the shadows. The door opened a crack, revealing a pair of wary eyes and little else.

"Life is short as a happy day," Sarah said softly, coming into the sliver of light thrown by the open door.

At the code phrase, the person behind the door opened it enough to let her inside. She slipped through and into the dimly-lit kitchen, coming face to face with a tall, handsome man of 30. With dark hair and a strong, square jaw, he looked little like her, but his eyes, the same sparkling shade of blue, brightened in relief when he saw her.

"Ryan," she breathed, pulling him into a tight hug, careful to avoid her stitches.

"Hey, sis," he smiled. "It's so great to see you."

She broke away, but still held onto his hands. "Yeah, I'm sorry it has to be like this, though."

"I know." He paused, then added, "Chuck's a great guy."

She nodded solemnly. "He is."

Tearing up, Ryan gave her a sad half-smile and swung her hand gently in his.

"I'll be back one day," she assured him. "Soon."

He exhaled deeply. "Promise?"

"Promise."

Ryan inclined his head toward the doorway. "Chuck's in the living room." He tugged on her hand to lead her there, but Sarah stopped him. "What is it?" he asked.

"Is he . . . is he all right?"

"He's . . . a little shaken. But I think he'll be all right once he sees you."

He gave her another supportive smile, and she responded by embracing him again.

"God, I've missed you, Ryan. I hope you knew that all this time," she murmured into his shoulder.

"Of course I did. So did Molly, and Mom and Dad," he replied. He broke the hug. "Now come on. There's someone here who needs you more than I do."

Sarah followed her older brother into the living room, where the first thing she saw was Chuck sprawled out on the couch. By the blankets and pillows strewn over it, she could guess that it was where he was sleeping for the past few nights.

He jumped up at the sight of her, a look of astonishment on his face.

She chuckled. "Why so surprised? I told you I'd be here tonight."

Chuck burst into a bright peal of laughter so unsuitable to the occasion and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing the life out of her.

"Oh, ow, watch it, Chuck," she said gently, maneuvering out of his embrace. "I'm still a little sore from. . ." she trailed off.

From where Casey shot me, she wanted to finish.

Good Lord, how much would that have freaked him out?

He nodded, though, and sat back down on the couch, taking her with him. Ryan sat opposite them in an armchair.

Sarah cuddled into him, burying her head near his neck and breathing deeply to take in his scent. God, she had missed him, missed his touch. Intertwining her fingers with his, she could feel the pulses in their hands start to mingle.

He smiled and stroked her cheek with his other hand. "I missed you, too."

"I love you, Chuck," she confessed abruptly.

Chuck pulled back from her to look her directly in the eye. He shook his head slightly, incredulously, a question in his gaze.

"I'm sorry I never told you before. I can't believe I almost never got a chance to," she continued.

Speechless, he only nodded and pressed a desperate kiss to her lips. Ryan cleared his throat softly.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly, turning to look at her brother.

"I'm sorry to press you," he said, "but he's already been here for almost three days. Whoever is after him may be on his trail already. Do you know what you're going to do?"

"Please," Chuck whispered, "Tell me you have a plan."

She smiled. "We're shedding our identities, crossing the border. I'm sorry," she said, addressing both men. "It's the only way."

Ryan put his face in his hands. "I understand. You're my brave little sister. You do what you have to do."

She nodded. "We'll leave first thing in the morning, if that's all right with you, Chuck."

"Sure," he agreed.

"Do you need anything?" Ryan asked.

"I didn't have time to pack any clothes, so I'll need to borrow a set or two from Molly. We'll need some small necessities, too, because we're walking to our destination."

At this, Chuck raised his eyebrows, but wisely kept silent.

Sarah continued, "A little bit of food, too. Other than that, we have what we need – money, documents, everything. Thank you, though."

"And where will you go?"

She swallowed, holding back the flood of tears that threatened to wash over her. "You know I can't tell you that."

"Right," he nodded. "Let me go get Mom and Dad. They'll want to see you."

Nervous, she nonetheless gave him the silent go ahead, and he disappeared up the staircase. Chuck turned to her, cradling her face in one hand.

Unable to fight her guilt any longer, she leaned into him, her forehead against his. "Chuck," she breathed, "You have no idea how sorry I am."

For letting you stay embroiled in this mess, she thought, but struggled for a way to articulate it. For not finding you a way out of this life. For not trusting you. For not trusting in your love for me. For never telling you how I feel about you until tonight. For everything I've left unsaid.

Even with her eyes closed, she felt the warmth of his smile. She had the vague sense that he knew her thoughts, that he understood everything running through her mind.

"Sarah, you have nothing to feel sorry about," he assured her.

"What about all this? Everything I've put you through? It's my fault the government is hunting us. It was my job to protect you, but I misjudged Casey, and I didn't, I . . ." She trailed off with a broken sob, but regained her composure enough to confess, "I let you down."

He slid one finger down her cheek tantalizingly. She exhaled slowly, controlling her wildly beating heart.

"None of that was you," he whispered. "None of this is your fault. If anything, it's all because of the damn Intersect in my head. But I couldn't have gotten through any of it without you. You've been there every step of the way, reaming me out when I screw up and backing me up when I do something right. It's because of you, and all the help you've given me, that I've managed to make it this far. So from where I stand, you're kind of my savior."

Utterly powerless in his arms, she kissed him hungrily, wrapping her arms around him tightly and holding on for dear life. He responded in kind, pulling her towards him. The sharp splinter in her side erupted again, but she ignored it this time. She was never letting him go.

Breaking off the kiss, she let her lips brush over his lightly.

"We'll get through this, Chuck," she promised, "Just you and me."

Before he had a chance to respond, a creaking noise startled the entangled couple. On alert, Sarah glared at the darkened staircase, seeing three people standing uncertainly. On recognizing Ryan and their parents, she relaxed noticeably.

A wave of remorse rushed over her. She hadn't contacted them in seven years, and she was leaving them again the next morning.

All for the safety of the man sitting beside her.

Chuck nudged her gently. With a sad smile, she rose. That was all it took to cause Mr. and Mrs. Callaghan to come running to their daughter. Sarah's mother crushed her in a hug, crushing her stitches right along with her. She winced slightly, burying her face in her mother's neck.

Sarah wanted to tell her parents everything, to beg for their forgiveness, but she still had a job to do. And that was to keep Chuck safe, to love him as best she knew how.

"Ma," she said, looking at her father over her shoulder, "Don't cry. It's okay. We're all right."

"All this time," Mrs. Callaghan shook her head, "All this time I've been worrying about you."

"You didn't have to," Sarah assured her.

Mrs. Callaghan pulled away to hold her daughter at arm's length and study her. Sarah felt like she was on trial. The changes that the past seven years had embedded in her face, in her posture, in her demeanor would not go unnoticed by her mother's observant gaze.

"I know. You're tough, right?" Mrs. Callaghan said proudly. "But it's a mother's job to worry."

She nodded, a tear streaming down her face. After her mother released her reluctantly, Sarah turned to her father.

"Hi, Daddy."

"Hey, baby," he said, embracing her gently. In her ear, he whispered, "He's a keeper, this one."

Sarah chuckled, saying softly, "I know."

Mr. Callaghan pulled away. "So is this one of those situations where, if you tell us any details, you'll have to kill us?"

Sarah smiled sadly. "You can't know any more than you need to, in case they trace us here."

"Who are 'they'?" asked Ryan.

She looked at him. "At this point, consider anyone except his sister and her husband, Ellie and Devon Woodcomb, to be hostile."

"And Morgan," Chuck added quickly.

She smiled again. "Yes, and Morgan Grimes."

Sneaking a glance at her mother, her heart plummeted at the shock on her face. Before she could apologize again for the hell she was putting them through, Mr. Callaghan stepped in.

"You two have a big day ahead of you tomorrow," he said. "You better get some rest."

Chuck nodded and began to straighten up the sheets on the couch. Sarah grabbed his hand and spun him around.

"You're not sleeping here tonight."

Sarah's room was exactly like she left it. Her mom and dad hadn't changed a thing in seven years. There was still the antique dresser that had belonged to her grandmother, its top lined with photos of family and friends. There was still the bookshelf, overflowing with books she had devoured again and again throughout high school and college. There was still her acoustic guitar hiding in the corner beside the window, obviously untouched since she left. There was still the tiny twin bed, the comforter covered in an absurd pink and green swirly pattern that she had picked out when she was fourteen or fifteen.

"On second thought, maybe this isn't much better than the couch," Sarah said, dismayed at the size of the bed.

Instead of giving her a straight answer, Chuck simply turned down the covers and climbed into bed fully clothed, propping himself up on one elbow to signal that she should join him.

Funny how she kept finding things to smile about.

She gave him a sleepy smile and slid into bed next to him, letting him wrap his arms around her protectively. Closing her eyes, she settled her head against his shoulder. She felt him place a soft, hesitant kiss to her temple.

"Are you off-the-grid now, too?" he asked in a low voice.

Sarah didn't answer immediately, as the question somehow brought everything into perspective for her. She and Chuck were now enemies of the United States government. They were on the run and they would most likely be for longer than she would care to think about.

She stared out at the dark room. How could she possibly protect him now?

"Yes," she confessed, her voice breaking.

He kissed her again, this time on the cheek, and held her a bit tighter.

If only they could lie like this forever.

My room was white with the sun

And Love cried out in me,

"I am strong, I will break your heart

Unless you set me free."

Sarah looked up. The muted sky was barely visible through the thick layer of leaves. Like she had suspected, the forest would provide ample cover for their journey. It was four miles to the border, which was their first milestone. She preferred not to think past that just yet.

As they had left scarcely before dawn, it was still early. Coupled with an early morning fog, the faint rays of the sun were barely peaking through the layer of forest, but she wasn't foolish enough to risk flashlights unless it was absolutely necessary. The sun was rising steadily, though, and it'd provide enough light by which to walk soon enough. The forest was dense, making their way somewhat difficult. Thick roots stuck out of the soft ground, providing even more obstacles on their path. Luckily, the trees were packed closely enough that there was always a sturdy one nearby for Chuck or Sarah to steady themselves when they caught their footing.

Traipsing through the faint woods, Sarah regretted never bringing Chuck here under different circumstances. He would have loved a tour of her hometown, tiny as it was, and on any other early summer day, this would have been a perfect spot for a romantic date. She was always up for a little adventure, and they could have gone hiking and shared a nice picnic in the shade.

Realizing that would never happen now, she pushed those thoughts from her mind. But that only opened up another, even less desirable, train of thought, and she struggled to forget the tearful goodbye with her family a mere half-hour ago. Just as her thoughts began a downward spiral, she felt Chuck's hand in hers. She glanced up, finding a supportive smile lighting up his face. Returning his smile, she felt a surge in strength.

Right now, she was eternally grateful for him. He had called her his savior last night, but he had quickly become hers when the pain from her gunshot wound became too much to handle. The hike through the woods was not particularly hard, but it was taxing in her condition.

Sarah hadn't yet told Chuck where they were going, and he hadn't asked. In fact, he'd been extremely cooperative, even when her mother had awakened them after only five hours of sleep. Mrs. Callaghan had shoved jeans, t-shirts, and University of Maine hooded sweatshirts in their arms for them to wear against the morning chill. Still groggy, they had gone down to the kitchen to find Mr. Callaghan and Ryan waiting with their bags. Chuck's backpack was stuffed with some extra clothes, a blanket, and some small toiletries. Sarah's bag, a light messenger that she could carry even with her wound, was filled with food and their documents containing their new identities.

Sarah's foot caught on a root for the third time since they had started out, but she ignored the acute pain that exploded throughout her body when her eyes fell on a rusty set of railroad tracks about a hundred yards ahead, barely visible over the crest of a hill. Chuck paused to steady her, and she indicated the tracks with a nod of her head. He turned his gaze in the direction in which she was looking and squinted against the early morning light filtering through the trees.

"The tracks," she said breathlessly, "They'll lead us to the border."

He nodded and helped her in that direction.

She waited for the expected question until they reached the abandoned tracks.

When it didn't come, she gave his hand a squeeze and said, "We're going to Nova Scotia, and then we'll see what to do from there, okay? Maybe we'll go on to Europe, or South America."

He chuckled. "I always wanted to go to Nova Scotia. I've been told it's beautiful."

"We'll find out, won't we?" she smiled.

They began walking along the railroad, the tracks making their steps easier. Even with the less demanding footing, Sarah's energy was quickly fading, the fact reflected in her pale visage.

She ignored Chuck's worried glances, focusing instead on the railroad ties and putting one foot in front of the other. Eventually, though, her steps slowed.

Chuck stopped walking and turned toward her. Reluctantly, she faced him.

Looking directly at her, he told her, "I'm here for you, Sarah."

The intensity in his eyes was almost too much for her.

"I'll carry you."

And that was all it took. His voice, so warm and so sincere, was enough to make her melt. She nodded, still looking him in the eyes. He bent his knees slightly and he scooped her up easily, one arm under her legs and the other supporting her back. She clasped her hands behind his neck.

Despite her weakness, she smiled at his display of strength. "You're not going to carry me all the way to the Atlantic, are you?" she teased.

He laughed, but the sincerity never left his eyes. It made her breath catch in her throat. "If you need me to," he said, adding in a whisper, "I'd carry you to the ends of the earth."

She protested whenever she thought he was getting tired, but somehow he always gathered his strength. With her in his arms, he walked along the rusty railroad tracks through the woods as the muted, foggy sunshine illuminated their way. And he carried her across the border into a new life.

Sarah looked into Chuck's eyes, finally understanding the promise they held. They were entering an entirely new world, one filled with danger and uncertainty and no doubt heartbreak. But what mattered was that they would be together, providing each other with much needed strength.

Sarah realized that throughout all her prior misgivings, all her moments of doubt and weakness, Chuck had been the one saving constant. She chastised herself for not recognizing it before, but he had always been there, ready to catch her when she fell.

And she was finally trusting enough to let herself fall.