A/N: Hey, this is the first fanfic i've ever written so i'm still pretty new at this and probably making lots of mistakes. please be patient. hope you enjoy.

disclaimer: i don't own chuck.

Chapter 1:

When Chuck opened his eyes, it was still dark outside—or so he thought, because he really wasn't sure. Heck he wasn't sure of anything. At first he thought he might be lying in his bedroom, but the bed felt stiffer than he was used to.

As the rest of his senses returned to him one by one he realized there was no way he could be in his room. The smell—a distinct cocktail of anesthetics, disinfectants, and stale air was definitely not familiar. A series of regular beeps that he first dismissed as his alarm clock grew more distinct, and Chuck realized that it couldn't be his alarm, the tone was all wrong.

What's happened to me? he wondered. He had a terrible headache, not like the kind he would get from playing video games for twelve hours straight. This was much worse. Like perhaps he had played video games for twelve hours straight and then had an elephant trample on his skull.

His brain felt like one giant ball of cotton; his whole head felt like it was filled with air. He couldn't think straight at all. He tried to remember what he had been doing last but couldn't. Like words at the tip of his tongue, he felt like everything was just a little out of grasp.

Chuck's eyelids felt like they were being dragged down by weights and he closed them again. For a second he was almost lulled back to the stream of unconsciousness from which he just crawled out of but then he heard her voice.

"Chuck."

At first it was so soft he thought he imagined it, but then he heard it again.

"Chuck." Someone was calling him; a voice he didn't recognize.

Reluctantly, Chuck opened his eyes again, straining at the effort. He waited for his vision to clear before taking in his surroundings. There was not much to it. Monitors, IV tubes, a train of dark curtains that obstructed half the room and blinds pulled all the way down, allowing only the thinnest stream of light through.

Then he saw her standing over him. Blond hair tucked back in a messy ponytail, a pair of concerned blue eyes that matched almost perfectly with her scrubs.

"Chuck," she repeated, allowing a smile to appear on her otherwise hallowed complexion.

Chuck stared at her, going slowly through his mental rolodex trying to remember a name. Nothing.

His mouth felt as dry as sandpaper and his first words to her were little more than a rasp. "Where am I?"

The smile on the woman's face faded. "You're in the hospital, Chuck."

Of course,Chuck thought slowly. That made sense. He felt like crap.

"Are you my nurse?" he asked.

The woman stared at him for a long time. Chuck suddenly noticed the chart she was holding in her hands. Another stupid question.

She leaned forwards and stroked the side of his face with her hand. Her touch was gentle, tender even. Then perhaps catching herself, she took a step back and rested the hand on his arm instead. Chuck was touched by her concern but the evidence of tears in her brilliant blue eyes filled him with unease.

"Yes, Chuck," the woman finally said, a much delayed response.

"Has something terrible happened?" Chuck couldn't help but wonder. Had this poor woman been assigned to deliver him the awful news?

The woman removed her hand and hugged the chart tightly against her chest, taking on a defensive stance.

"What's the last thing you remember?" she asked, her voice so soft he could barely hear it over the heart monitor.

Chuck tried to pick at his own brain but he was only grasping at air. Still, he hated to disappoint her. She looked so upset already and he'd only been awake for a few minutes.

He shook his head. "Nothing. I don't remember anything."

The woman took the response with strained stoicism. She bit down on her lower lip and clenched her jaw, fighting to keep her composure. One more word out of him, and he was afraid she would break.

"I'm so sorry," Chuck heard himself utter without really knowing why. After all, he was the one in the hospital bed. But she looked so sad and tired. She probably had a long shift and he wasn't making this any easier for her.

"What is your name?" Chuck looked up at her, staring directly into her eyes. She was a beautiful woman but her eyes, her eyes were like diamonds split into a million facets by imminent tears. There was so much emotion behind them that Chuck felt like he should know her, that they couldn't be just strangers.

"Chuck…Charles Bartowski," he said without too much thought. She gave a sigh of relief, which he took as a good sign.

"My name is Sarah," the woman said and paused, peering at him again with those haunting eyes. Chuck could only look blankly back at her. "Sarah Walker." She leaned forwards, and Chuck felt as if she was waiting for him to say something profound, expecting him to snap out of this—whatever this was.

"I'm sorry," he said, the second time now. He felt awful. She had probably taken care of him the whole time and he didn't even remember her name. "I'm so sorry."

Sarah took a step back, visibly disappointed. "Yeah," she said and took a deep breath. "Me too."