A/N: You didn't think I'd make you wait that long, did you? But of course not!

Thank you SO so much for everyone who reviewed the first part. You're all so wonderful and lovely. I know I thanked you each individually, but I'm not allowed to thank guest reviewers. So to all of you, I offer the heartiest of thank you's! And a bouquet of cyber gardenias.

Also, I need, nay I want to thank my beta extraordinaire, the one and only DispatchesFromDistrict7 for doing an epic read through of this massive monster of a submission before I submitted it. She gave me the guidance I needed and I'm awfully grateful! (Unfortunately, she couldn't get me out from under the bridge, but that was my problem...)

And so! Without further ado...part deux...

"Geez, you'd think we were on Mars with the way they crank the AC in here," Chuck complained in Sarah's ear as she stared at a woman in a flowing white dress, standing at the crest of a hill with an umbrella.

She turned and tilted her head to the side. "Well, zip your jacket up. Here." She reached out and did it for him, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek and smile. "Better?"

"I can't tell. Maybe you should do that last part again."

As much as she enjoyed his cheeky grin, she turned back to the painting and moved to the next one. "God, this is beautiful. Look at the strokes in this one," she breathed, reaching back to grab Chuck's arm and pull him a little closer.

"Stroke me, stroke me!" he sang softly.

"What?"

"It's a song. You've never heard that song? The Stroke. Billy Squier. Stroooke meh, stroke meh! Beehh behhh!" he sang with a bit more accuracy, strumming an air guitar and scrunching up his features in his own rendition of a bad ass rockstar face. "Are you serious? Sarah Walker, you are seriously an enigma."

She giggled quietly. "I'm sorry, but it doesn't really sound like the type of song I would listen to."

"See, now we're getting somewhere. What type of song would you listen to?"

Sarah stopped at another painting, pointing up at it. "Look at the way the waves almost seem to be moving. And then if you back up…" She took a few steps back and dragged him with her. "It looks totally different. It's amazing."

"That's actually pretty awesome. But you didn't answer my question."

"I'm not a music person, Chuck. I don't know what music I like because I really don't listen to it all that much."

"But you just said—"

"Chuck. Paintings. We're in a museum, not Hard Rock Cafe."

He leaned down and quickly brushed a kiss over her neck and she gasped, sending him a faux glare. "We're in a museum, Chuck!" she rasped.

"So you keep saying."

With a smirk, she led him into the next room. They spent hours moving through the museum, and not once did they break contact. If Chuck wasn't stroking the small of her back while he listened to her rave about the light that reflected off of Monet's water, their hands were clasped tightly together.

They stopped to eat a salad at the Café Compana, sitting directly next to the large clock face that was the focal point of the trendy little museum eatery, then they continued through the other floors of the museum.

Halfway through, as if he was beginning to get bored (like a child, she mused) he started finding ways to surprise her. At first it was a soft stroke up her arm as he moved to her side, or bumping her hip with his. Then he stood directly behind her and began whispering things about the paintings, things that meant he was actively paying attention to the artwork and not just going through the motions to be a tolerant boyfriend.

Boyfriend?

Sarah pushed that out of her head for the moment.

She had no problem admitting, the fact that he was into the art, studying the brushstrokes and commenting into her ear in that deep whisper of his—it was in no uncertain terms turning her on.

Sarah reached into her spy bag of tricks to distract herself from the way the back of his hand would drag across her hip when he shifted his weight to look at a painting in a different light. Or how she'd catch herself staring when he'd run his hand through his curls, or lick his lips. Then he'd taken off his jacket and held it in his hands.

He'd been so cold because of the air conditioner before, so she knew he'd taken the jacket off in the hope of teasing her. He must have noticed this morning her appreciation of the muscles his torso and arms had accumulated over the last year. He'd probably noted the fact that she'd taken to squeezing his biceps while they…

"Okay, now this is my favorite. This is just awesome."

Sarah snapped to attention and looked at the painting Chuck was pointing to. She flushed a little and stepped closer. "Winslow Homer, huh? I can see you as a Winslow Homer kind of guy."

"That a good thing?" Chuck pursed his lips.

"Mhm. Maybe sometime I'll show you other paintings he's done. You'd like them."

"Well I like this one." He gestured at the silhouetted figures sitting in the background on the beach, shrouded in shadow as the two brightly lit figures danced in the foreground. "The other people in the painting are looking out towards the water, outside of this little light bubble that these two are in. It's almost like they're dancing in their own little world, or something."

She just beamed at him for awhile. Chuck turned to peer at her. "What?"

"You're enjoying yourself."

"So?"

"It's kinda cute."

"What, you think I'm only nerdy when it comes to computers, scifi, comic books and video games? If I'm a nerd about all of those things, I'm pretty sure it's a safe bet I'm nerdy about a whole butt load of other things. Like art, for instance. Not modern art so much. I mean, it's very unoriginal for me to say, but I just don't get it."

As they finished up the last room, Sarah reached to pick up Chuck's left wrist, glancing at his watch. She had her own watch on, but this had given her a reason to lean close to him and touch him again. "We, uh…We might want to head back to the hotel, I think."

Chuck was silent for awhile, staring at the door that led outside again, into the streets of Paris. They'd be leaving them soon, hopping on a plane back to LAX, back to Burbank, back to their lives as CIA agents.

He felt fear prickle at his neck, and his heart beat faster.

He had to wonder if anything would change once they got back. Would Sarah fold back into her agent mode again, keeping a professional distance from him? Would Beckman or Casey find out about them being in love and drive a wedge between them?

"I suppose it is, yeah," he murmured quietly. He gave her a reassuring smile and kissed her forehead again. "Let's get outta here, Sarah Walker."

She smiled lovingly and reached up to brush a curl from his forehead. Part of her was excited to get back to the privacy of their hotel. But another part of her mourned for the way time had seemed to speed up as the day progressed. Their day of freedom, their day as a regular couple…it was all drawing to a close. Reality would set in.

And then what would happen to them?

Deciding not to dwell, she snuggled into his side as they walked, tucking her face into his shirt and shutting her eyes, trusting him to guide her along for the time being and instead focusing on the warmth of his arm slung possessively over her shoulder.

}o{

As they passed their little spot beneath the vines, they noticed a small quartet had settled in the corner, playing a warm, melancholy tune as a handful of couples moved slowly across the brick ground to the guitar's plucky rhythm, swaying with the soft whining of the violin and heartfelt rumble of the cello, gracefully moving their feet to the beautiful tones of the accordion.

Chuck recognized the tune. It was the Pavane for a Dead Princess. A bit morbid for a Parisian quartet to play, albeit an incredibly beautiful melody. "Your spot's pretty popular nowadays," he murmured in her ear, noticing the way her eyes were glued to the dancing couples.

"Our spot," she corrected distractedly, slipping her hand into his and tugging him beneath the vine covering. He frowned a little as she pulled him into a little space between two tables. "Dance with me."

"I—I'm not much of a dancer, remember?"

"I seem to remember some pretty sexy moves when you saved a dictator from being egged."

"You know that was the Intersect, Sarah," he said quietly, his eyes darting around them nervously.

She shrugged. "Dance with me."

"You want me to flash?" he asked in a harsh whisper, flabbergasted.

"Chuck, no." She grabbed his hands and put them in the right places on her hips, stepped into his embrace and rounded his shoulders with her arms. "You don't have to be Fred Astaire for this, Chuck. I promise."

He narrowed his eyes teasingly and pulled her closer. They swayed softly to the music, their cheeks pressed together, eyes shut.

Sarah knew she should be surveying the area around them. Chuck was the Intersect, after all. And just the night before, the Ring had threatened both of their lives in a place not too far from here. The chance that every Ring agent was captured by Casey and his team was slim at best.

Against her better judgment, she pushed those thoughts away. She was dancing with the man she loved most in the world, in the place she loved most in the world, and his morning scruff was scratching pleasantly against her cheek—a sensation she'd never thought she'd have the opportunity to enjoy only a few weeks ago. Sarah reminded herself that she vowed she would never bring work into this peaceful little nook, and so she would keep to that promise.

Her eyes stayed resolutely shut as she nuzzled her nose against the underside of his jaw and felt more of the delicious scratching of stubble from the morning. He had planned on shaving while she showered, but the shower had turned into an interesting showcase of flexibility—much different than the first time they'd taken a shower together. A lack of powdered fruit punch for instance.

As the song ended, they didn't step away from each other as the other couples did. They merely turned so that their sides kept pressed together, walking slowly out of their little Parisian spot and back onto the street.

As they walked towards the bus stop, Chuck's stomach grumbled. He'd since draped his arm over Sarah's shoulders, so when he tugged his wrist closer to look at the time, her face was awkwardly pressed into his chest. She let out a muffled something or other and he chuckled.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"What time is it, I asked."

"Oh. It's about 3:45."

Her face lost a bit of its luster and her eyes dimmed as she squinted out into the street. Chuck knew precisely what was going through her mind. Their day as a regular couple was just about over. It left his heart feeling a little heavy as well.

This will not do.

His eyes fastened on a food cart across the street with an array of miniature cakes and tortes in elegant glass domes lined along the counters. Without saying a word, he glanced left and right and led her into the street. He jogged them to the cart.

"What are you doing?" she asked, eyeing the treats as he gestured gracefully at the food.

"Aren't you hungry?"

"A little, yeah, but I thought we'd just eat at the airp—" She cut herself off, being reminded of their obligations to the CIA once again.

"Nope. We're having a snack now. Dinner be damned. We can eat whatever we want, whenever we want and nobody can say a thing about it." He grinned in that infectious way of his and she was flooded with a warmth she'd gotten used to since knowing him, a warmth she'd never known before him.

"A snack is…I dunno, an apple. These are cakes, Chuck."

He pulled her closer and looked at the mouth-watering treats. "Alright, Mom," he laughed. "Come on, A—Er, Sarah." He blushed a little at his near slip. "Let's live a little. Let's have dessert at 3:45. It's on me."

She shook her head and shrugged. Any reason to keep the day going longer. "Fine. What kind?"

"You choose."

She furrowed her brow at him and began making a show of looking over the treats. The cart had everything in miniature—from bite-sized cookies and tortes the size of her palm to tiny square wedges of cake, all of which looked delectable. In the end, she chose a cranberry and apple tart with the crust reaching up around the fruit and enclosing it in a steaming, powdery bit of heaven.

As they waited for the tiny old Frenchwoman to wrap it up, Chuck turned to smile at Sarah excitedly. "This reminds me of the time Morgan and I walked to the shopping mall when we were twelve, all alone, no chaperone, no Ellie—and we ate banana splits for dinner and burgers for dessert. We felt like such bad asses."

She laughed, losing herself in images of a gangly, curly-headed, twelve-year-old version of Chuck walking next to a pip-squeak, mop-headed, beardless twelve-year-old Morgan, eating banana splits and high fiving each other or something.

Sarah mused that not much had changed there.

With the tart deposited in an adorable, flowered box and wrapped with string, they left the cart hand-in-hand and continued on their way to the bus stop, their treat hanging from Chuck's fingers.

"Sarah."

"Hm?"

Chuck tugged her to a stop suddenly and she turned around, quickly stepping so that their fronts were pressed together. He looked into her eyes and took her hands, the warmth emanating from the tart evident against her arm.

When he didn't say anything, her eyes darted between his, a slightly unsure look on her face.

For a moment, he allowed himself to wonder about this woman. She was letting him see her emotions, and had been all day. There was no spy mask, no walls shielding him from her feelings. She'd made herself vulnerable to him. She was actively trusting him and there was no greater gift in the world, Chuck thought to himself. It felt better than anything he could ever imagine.

Then his mind went back to the morning and the feeling of her muscled, strong limbs encircling him, her soft skin against him, and the things she did with her confident hands. Feeling a bit out of breath, he decided that, no, that had been the best feeling ever.

He thought of himself leading her onto a plane, and the way they'd have to sit side by side, together…but not at the same time…heading home to a situation unknown to either of them. After everything they'd been through in the last twenty four hours, Chuck decided that wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want this to end yet. He wasn't ready, and he thought maybe she wasn't either.

"I don't want this to end."

The unsure look melted into one of deep sadness and she looked down at their fronts pressed together. "Chuck, we don't know what will happen when we get back to Burbank." Her voice was suddenly soft and tired.

"Exactly!" He squeezed her fingers reassuringly. "Three years, Sarah. Three years of almosts and mistakes and lying to ourselves, dodging around each other. I'm done with all of that. I know what it's like to be with you now and I'm not giving that up. Not now. Not for anything. I say we don't get on the plane tonight."

"What?" A spark of hope ignited in her clear blue eyes, and a corner of her lips tilted up.

"Let's not get on that plane. At least not yet. Sarah, I don't wanna fall asleep tonight without being able to hold you in my arms. That's so cheesy, I know, but it's true. And I can't do that in a plane. Not even first class."

She chuckled, a wondrous sound that erupted from deep within her and sent a flame of adoration bursting through him. He ran with it and wrapped his arms around her, pinning her to him so that her arms were trapped against his chest. She didn't seem to mind as she snuggled a bit closer.

"That's true. So what are you proposing, Mr. Bartowski?"

"Sarah Walker, would you like to see Europe with me?"

A look of awe fell over her beautiful features and she seemed to not know what to say to that, so Chuck continued. A desperate attempt to bring her to his way of thinking.

"You won't be a CIA agent looking to meet a mark, pursuing a bad guy, or…whatever else you'd be doing for your job. You'll be a regular girl—a woman on vacation—traveling Europe with a regular guy. We can take what we had in that little spot—our spot—and just, you know, just extend the boundaries a few hundred miles. No work. No guns. Just us. We'll be together, and frankly, at the moment, that's really all I care about."

"This plan doesn't exactly solve the us-not-sleeping-in-each-other's-arms-tonight problem."

"I seem to remember hearing about European trains having compartments with beds. Sleeper-trains! We can get on one tonight!"

"And go where, Chuck? We're supposed to be in Burbank tomorrow." The look in her eyes, the way he could almost feel her heart racing against his chest, all of it belied her words. Even the tone in her voice had picked up a spark of excitement.

"We'll get there…eventually. I don't care where we go. Let's just go somewhere. I don't care if I end up in Marrakesh or freakin' Zimbabwe. I just wanna be with you." He tightened his grip around her waist and leaned his forehead against hers so that he could nuzzle her nose.

Sarah's eyes slipped shut and she fought not to lose herself in the moment. She had to be the strong one between the two. She'd been an agent for most of her life. She knew where this would lead, and she was almost certain it would lead to heartbreak. Once they arrived in Burbank, there was a chance the job would cut them off from each other. While it was a prospect she couldn't bear the thought of, she knew she had to be prepared for it. But maybe…maybe not yet.

"Sarah," he whispered, and she opened her eyes to look in his amber gaze. "This has been the best day of my life. Let's not stop now. Just a little longer. Please."

Well, who the hell was she to deny him? Her thought was emphasized by his lips brushing softly against hers. "God, how can I say no?"

It had just come out. She'd meant to sigh, and instead there had been words. Words she'd been thinking, but she really hadn't wanted them to come out. And she sounded so hopeless and needy. But she was hopeless and needy. He'd made her that way, hadn't he? And that was okay, wasn't it?

Chuck's eyes were lit in excitement, and he leaned his head back a bit to look into her face. "You really can't, Sarah Walker. People have tried."

"Have they?"

"Mhm. They have. I've got powers of persuasion. A bit of this." He wiggled his eyebrows. "And this." He tilted his head and his big brown eyes became like those of a puppy dog, his pout nearly sending her into a fit of apoplexy. "And a little of this." He tightened his grip on her even more and lowered his lips to her ear, blowing softly. She gasped and her eyes nearly rolled to the back of her head when his teeth lightly nipped on her earlobe. His hands were lowering dangerously close to her backside when she wiggled out of his grasp and playfully smacked his chest.

"Hey! Watch it, Bartowski."

"What'd I do?" he shrugged, the mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What'd I say about indecent behavior?"

"I was being indecent?" His faux innocence and the way his eyes brightened with each passing moment…Well it was just about all she could take, really.

"Chuck, you were about to grab my ass in the middle of the sidewalk."

"City of PDA, right?"

She laughed. "Uh…ass-grabbing is a bit more like…" She paused. "It's something reserved for a more private…intimate moment." To emphasize her point, she reached up and straightened his jacket, then ruffled his hair.

"Liiike, maybe in a compartment in a sleeper-train that's headed from Paris to Zurich?" He shoved his hands in his jean pockets.

"Let's do it."

"What?"

She smiled. "Let's do it. Let's go."

"You really mean it?" He stepped closer to her, ignoring the people sending them blatant looks of curiosity as they passed.

A heady look of resolve crossed her features and she framed his face with her hands. "Chuck Bartowski, do you wanna see Europe by sleeper-train with me?"

"I do," he answered immediately. "Do you, Sarah Walker, wanna see Europe by sleeper-train with me?"

"I so do."

They laughed and embraced, kissing each other senseless. An elderly French couple passed by and cheered, apparently having assumed Chuck and Sarah had just become engaged. But at the moment, as their lips dueled and the line between PDA and private intimate moment blurred, neither of the young lovers cared what people thought.

They would be together for just a little while longer. And that was all that mattered.

}o{

A satisfied grin stretched across her face as she moaned and lowered herself back down to lie on Chuck's chest, rounding his torso with her arms as best she could as she tried to regain her breath.

Sarah stretched out her legs and tangled them up with his, feeling Chuck's hands slide up and down her back, hugging her close as she buried her face under his chin. Their labored breathing was in sync, their chests rising and falling together. There was a hitch in Chuck's breath and she arched her back to peer down at him. "Am I crushing you?" she asked, her voice a little hoarse.

She realized that Chuck's ribbing earlier was warranted. He teased her that she was very vocal during sex and she'd elbowed him, a little miffed. The truth was, when she'd had enough control over her senses to listen, she'd found that his observation was pretty accurate. She'd never been vocal before Chuck, but she would just add that to the list of things he'd brought out in her.

"Mm, no," he replied with a silly close-mouthed smile, his arms tightening around her to keep from moving away. When he felt her shiver a bit, he reached down and grappled for the sheet, his fingers sliding against her bare thigh until he came in contact with the bed sheet. He pulled it up over them and rounded her body with his arm again, squeezing her and turning his head to give her temple a soft kiss.

They stayed that way for a few minutes, silent and content, their hands stroking circles on each other's skin.

"Chuck?"

"Hm?"

"We forgot about the tart."

"Aww phooey." That got a laugh out of her. "It's probably still warm, though, right?"

She pulled her arms out from beneath his back and propped herself up on the mattress with her hands on either side of his body, turning to look over her shoulder at the wall clock. "Well, we bought it two hours ago, so probably not."

"T—" He leaned up on his elbows and tugged her down against him so that he could see the clock as well, causing her to squeak in surprise and laugh a bit. "Two hours? Okay, that's impressive. You have to be a little impressed right?" Chuck settled back against the pillows and grinned cheekily, folding his arms behind his head and wiggling his eyebrows.

Sarah raised an eyebrow and smirked, rolling off of him and noticing with no small amount of pleasure that he frowned a little disappointedly. She settled close to him, though, turning on her side to press against him and using his bicep as a pillow. "Impressed isn't really the word I'd use."

He turned his head. "Huh? What word would you use?" he asked flirtingly.

"Surprised."

She squealed when he flipped over to pin her against the mattress, laughing loudly as he tickled her, his fingers wreaking havoc along her sides. "Chuck, stop!" He was relentless as he moved even lower, closer to her belly button. "Stop!" she laughed.

Suddenly she slung a leg over him, rounding his neck with an arm. Using her other leg, she turned so that they were both on their sides, one of Chuck's arms pinned beneath their bodies and the other held tightly over his head in her sturdy grip.

With wide eyes and a slowly spreading grin, he peered into her blue eyes that were flashing dangerously. Her lips were upturned in mirth, just enough for him to know she was playing. "That was way too easy for you," he deadpanned. "Are you surprised? I did tell you to stop." She took a long, deep breath to control her racing heart from their short but vigorous tickle skirmish.

"Surprised isn't really the word I'd use."

She narrowed her eyes but decided to play along. "And what word would you use?"

"It's not really a word as much as mmmph!" He suddenly buried his face in her neck with a muffled murmur, kissing her skin sloppily and enjoying the throaty laughter this incited. She let go of his arm that was still pinned above their heads and slapped his shoulder halfheartedly.

His lips stilled when they both heard the low rumble from below. Chuck grinned, running his teeth up her jaw to her ear and nipping a bit on her earlobe. "Hungry?"

"Shut up, that was totally you." He smirked as he heard the breathless tone in her voice, kissed her just below her ear and shot his tongue out to taste the skin there. He felt more than heard her breath hitch.

"No it wasn't," he muttered.

"It was."

The sound happened again and he leaned up to hover over her, smiling a bit sheepishly. "Okay, so you're right. So sue me. We haven't eaten since the museum."

She let out a one-syllable chuckle then turned her head, spotting the treat in its pretty little box sitting a few feet away on the antique dresser where the bedside lamp was. She lazily flopped an arm out and let it drape off the edge of the bed. "Mmm. I can't reach it," she whined softly.

Chuck laughed. "Oh, really? You look like you're trying pretty hard."

Sarah smiled a little, then lifted her arm again, straining her muscles and wiggling her fingers. The tart was still about a foot out of her reach. "Mm mm. Nope. Can't reach it."

"You know, if you were Mister—ahem, Miss Fantastic—this might solve all of our problems," Chuck replied, quietly imagining what the last two hours would have been like if she had Reed Richards' abilities and could twist, reshape and bend her limbs—

He shook his head of the cobwebs when she made a scoffing noise. "You just made a comic book reference, didn't you?"

"I did."

"And what superpowers did you just give me?"

"In the comic or in my head?"

She laughed with her tongue between her teeth, getting the gist of that statement. Obviously Chuck Bartowski's mind had wandered into the X-Rated realm for a moment. "Comic, and, uh, I think I can figure out what went on in your head." To emphasize her point, she wiggled a little under him, smirking when he swallowed thickly.

"Mister Fantastic is elastic. He can bend himself and stretch himself in any way he wants to and—"

"I, uh, get the gist." She knew exactly where his mind had wandered to and was mildly turned on by it. Though she'd never admit it out loud, not when she was this hungry. "Chuck?"

"Hm?" He was distracted by the expanse of neck she'd exposed to his lips when she turned to look at the flowery box on the antique bedside table.

"Can you get it?"

"Get what?" he asked, muffled against her neck.

She let out a soft sigh and pointed with the same arm that was draped over the side of the bed. "S'il vous plaît?"

"Sarah! That's French!" He assaulted her shoulder with his lips, dotting kisses all the way down her arm, taking the time to kiss each of her fingers, then her palm.

She grinned. "Get the food, Gomez."

"Wait." He propped himself up, his ministrations forgotten for the moment. "You know the Addams Family?"

"I haven't been living under a rock, Chuck. Come on." She paused. "Get the tart, nerd!"

With a reluctant grumble of "bossy", he pushed himself off of her and felt much better when he saw the admiring glance she gave his torso as he reached over with his long arm and plucked the box off of the table by its strings. "Ta daaa," he sang, letting it dangle over her.

She teasingly shoved him away and pulled herself up to sit against the headboard, reaching out and wiggling her fingers at the box. "Open it. I'm starving."

"Sheesh, I guess so." With a laugh, Chuck popped open the box. His stomach grumbled again when he saw the delicious treat inside. He salivated as the smell of apple and cranberry and sugar assailed his senses. He reached in and lifted the treat out of the box, holding it with both hands between himself and Sarah and smelling it deeply. "Ahhhh…"

"Don't. Don't do the ninja turtles pizza thing again."

"I wasn't—"

"Yes, you were! You always do it!"

"Only with pizza!"

She made a face.

"Fiiine." He smirked and leaned forward to peck her lips softly. Then he took a large bite out of the side of the tart, letting the flavors combine on his tongue and shutting his eyes in ecstasy. He'd never tasted anything quite like it and he couldn't hold back the moan of utter delight.

Sarah watched and licked her lips a bit. Taking his face in her hands, she surged forward and kissed him, tasting the apple and cranberry in his mouth, licking the stray powdered sugar from his lips. She ended the kiss a minute later, leaving him absolutely awestruck, then turned her face and took a bite, supporting the tart with one hand braced under Chuck's.

"Mmm, you're right. This is the best thing ever," she spoke messily around the tart rolling about in her mouth. "Aaand, we're never gonna find that food cart again, soooo…we better enjoy this as much as we can…"

He opened his mouth and watched her closely. Her eyes flashed mischievously and her smirk was incredibly wide as she finished chewing and swallowed. Their gazes met before their eyes slipped simultaneously down to the tart hovering between them.

Sarah's fingers rubbed sensually against the back of his hand and Chuck grinned so hard he thought his face might break.

I'm one lucky nerd.

}o{

"So the 8:30 train at Montparnasse? Final answer?" Chuck asked. He was leaning against the headboard of the bed, his knees bent and the sheet pulled up to his waist. Sarah was nestled comfortably between his legs, leaning back against his chest. He held his iPhone in front of them both, his arms rounding her figure and his chin resting on her shoulder.

Chuck turned to kiss under her jaw and she smiled, swiveling her face a little to peer at him. "Final answer."

"Good. That gives us an hour." He tossed his phone to the end of the bed and squeezed her tighter against him, resting his hands on her belly. She covered his hands and sighed, enjoying the feeling of his mouth moving along the underside of her jaw, up her face to her temple and back down again to claim her lips.

"We should eat dinner," she muttered through his kiss.

"We just ate something," he replied distractedly.

She pulled back and furrowed her brow. "That tiny little tart? Are you serious?"

"Okay, granted…it did very little to sate my hunger." Sarah sent him a meaningful little grin and he poked her belly playfully, earning a tinkling giggle.

"I'm not talking about that kind of hunger, Agent Walker. God, get your mind out of the gutter."

"You're the one who decided eating that tart in bed was a great idea."

"It was a great idea," he replied against her slightly tangled hair.

Images of what had followed after Chuck took the dessert out of the box mingled with the residual feelings of his lips, tongue, hands…and other things…and she felt herself flush. Craning her neck to rub her nose against his temple, she pushed herself even further back against him. "It was. We really should pack up."

He groaned, reaching up to sweep her hair from her neck and kiss the soft skin there. She leaned her head to the side to grant him further access and sighed, running her hands along his forearms as he tightened his hold on her. "Do we have to?"

Sarah swallowed. "Unless you want to leave our stuff here, yes…we have to."

Oh my God, I don't want to.

As if he could sense her thoughts, his hand slid down from her belly, lower and lower…

Sarah gasped, her eyes snapping open at his boldness. She turned in his arms and pounced on him, thoughts of eating and packing and, well, everything else besides Chuck Bartowski disappearing from her mind as though they'd never existed at all.

}o{

"Okay. There's a 10:00 train headed for Zurich. It's a more round-about way of getting there, but not as round-about as the 11:50." Chuck stood in his boxers at the door to the bathroom, peering down at his phone again as Sarah leaned down to turn on the shower, a pristine, white bathrobe provided by the hotel draped around her body—the first piece of clothing she'd worn since around 4 o'clock.

"10:00? We can do that, right?"

"Easy. We've got plenty of time. It'll only take us fifteen minutes to get to the train station. And with the way taxi drivers drive, I'd bet it will be more like ten." He wrinkled his nose a little at his own joke and she grinned over her shoulder at him pushing her hair behind her ear and straightening to her full height.

As Chuck began playing around on his phone, she quietly snuck up on him, watching as his brow furrowed in concentration. In the last twenty four hours, she'd come to appreciate that look in a completely different way. Now, it was as sexy as it was adorable.

"So you finish your shower and I'll start packing." Chuck looked up from his phone and was a little surprised to see her standing so close. He masked it by leaning forward to kiss her forehead. "I'll be right out here."

He turned and began walking back into the room but Sarah followed. "You're not taking a shower?"

"Maybe after you. Maybe I'll wait until we get on the train."

"I thought we were eating on the train," she said, leaning against the doorframe and watching him start to gather his clothing from the floor around the bed. She saw him blush a little when he started picking up hers, lifting her underpants off of the ground. "Thank you," she murmured coyly.

"You're, uh, you're welcome," he replied through a trembling voice.

After everything they'd done to each other, including the particularly dirty (literally) session with the sticky dessert, he was shy about picking her intimates up off the floor? It was as if he was trying to find more ways to make her crazier in love with him than she already was.

"C'mere," she said, crossing her arms at her chest.

His eyes lifted from where he'd set his suitcase. "Huh? What?"

"I said come over here."

"That's not the best plan, Sarah. You have a shower to take, I have bags to pack, we have a 10:00 train to catch."

"I'm not going to do anything, just come here."

With a sigh, he looked over his shoulder and watched as she jutted her bottom lip out in a pout. He'd never seen anything like it on Sarah's stunning face and it left him reeling. He managed to shake his head and mutter, "Mm mm."

Losing a bit of patience, she stood straight and put her hands on her hips. "I can make you come over here. You know that, right, Chuck?"

"Y-Yeah. I know." He rubbed his hands nervously down his boxers. Blaming it on the fact that two showers would waste the planet's resources, Chuck hurried to her side and allowed her to wrap her arms around his shoulders. "So?" he prompted.

Sarah ran the fingers of her hand through his hair. Then she stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his ear, letting her breath drift against the skin. She felt him shiver and inwardly grinned. Too easy.

As her fingers teased the hair at the back of his neck, she whispered something into his ear and pulled back a little to wink.

Without a second thought, Chuck lifted her into his arms and walked into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind them.

}o{

Chuck insisted on picking up his prescription of eczema moisturizer before they left and had managed to find a nearby 24 hour pharmacy. She didn't think they would have time, but he promised it would take twenty minutes at the most.

They split up when they arrived at Gare Montparnasse. Sarah voiced her misgivings about his going off alone with the Intersect in his head, when Ring agents could still be around looking for them. When he refused to let her come with him, a definite blush on his face, she was amused enough to relent.

They set up a meeting time of 10:45 beneath the large clock in the station and he left. Sarah wandered down to the Avenue du Maine and found a small shop with interesting clothing in the window. Ten minutes later she was back in the train station, a permanent smirk on her face as she thought of how much Chuck would like her purchases.

As she perused the knick-knacks and touristy bobble heads in the station's gift shop, she thought back to that time two years ago, when she'd first slept with Chuck. Slept, not…slept. She remembered pushing the door open and seeing him moving around his room with jerky movements she assumed was dancing, his lips pursed and his nose wrinkled in what looked to be his attempt at making a sexy face. She giggled to herself as she thought of the little "woo" noises he made and the way he paled when he saw her come in. And the way he sat up straight in bed when she pulled back her coat to reveal the see-through, purple negligee with matching bra and panties underneath.

The rest of the memory was a little bitter, even now, so she pushed it out of her head, and decided they could make new memories with what she bought for tonight. Or maybe they'd forget about it completely if things went according to plan.

Smirking again, she wandered to the display case piled with keychains. The Arc de Triomphe dangled from some of them, but most of them had the Eiffel Tower. She picked up a handsome brass one and fisted it. Chuck would like it, to commemorate their time together in Paris.

She suffered the morose thought that he might need a reminder if they got back to Burbank and had to act like nothing had happened between them, or worse, the team was split up. Shaking her head at herself, she vowed to focus on the here and now, buying Chuck's keychain and hurrying to the spot where she was supposed to meet up with Chuck.

She stood nervously beneath the large clock ten minutes later, their tickets for the 11:50 train to Zurich stashed in her coat pocket, her bag at her feet and her purse over her shoulder. It had been well over a half hour since she'd last seen Chuck and he was at least ten minutes later than he'd said he would be. Her eyes flicked back and forth over the faces of the passing travelers as she tapped the toe of her boot and worked her lip between her teeth. She pulled her phone out of her purse and checked to see if she'd missed his call or text.

There was nothing.

A thousand different things could have happened to him. Besides being kidnapped by the Ring, there were the things that happened to normal people without government hardware in their brain. Things like being hit by a car, being mugged…

Sarah didn't like to think of herself as paranoid, but at the moment, paranoia was stunting her thought process.

Another five minutes passed as she saw a tall, broad-shouldered young man wandering through the throngs of late-night travelers. He wore a charcoal baseball cap on his head and dark sunglasses. Oh God, Chuck. Could you be anymore obvious?

She smiled widely in spite of her frustration, wondering why the nerd always had to do something endearing when she wanted so badly to be angry with him. Sarah had to hand it to him—a disguise wasn't a bad idea considering Casey would realize at some point that they were AWOL and would have access to video surveillance in the station. But when it was 11 o'clock on a Thursday night, in a semi-enclosed train station, a guy in a hat with sunglasses stood out more than he blended in.

He flashed a grin as he spotted her and she smiled back, ignoring the panic that set in when she realized how terribly she'd missed him, and how much she'd relied on his showing up. She was lost and there was officially no going back. It was Chuck…or no one.

As he neared her, she saw he held a comic book in one hand, his suitcase in the other. Her grin died and she glared. "A comic book, Chuck?" she asked, gesturing to it as he got close enough to hear her over the arrival of the 11 o'clock train. "You were supposed to meet me here fifteen minutes ago! Do you know how worried I was?"

"I'm sorry. It's just that I was walking past the magazine stand and I saw the latest issue of Justice League. I've been waiting for—" His jaw snapped shut as he realized her frustration wasn't abating. "I'm sorry. I should have texted you. There was a long line at the pharmacy."

Sarah sighed and reached up to pluck his sunglasses off so that she could see into his eyes. She liked it better that way. "How did it go?"

"Fine. Dr. Feldman is the best dermatologist ever. He fixed everything so that it was waiting there with my name on it." He grinned again as she tugged on the front of his jacket and pulled him in for a kiss. "Mm, what'd you do?"

He didn't miss the way she looked away and bit her lip with a gleeful smile. "I made some purchases for the train."

"Oh yeah? Like what?" he asked with sincere curiosity.

"I'll show ya later."

"What? Why not show me…" A dreamy smile spread across his face as his eyes sparkled in mischief. "Oooh. Hehe."

They found a bench nearby and fell into it together, their arms still wrapped securely around each other. A breeze went through the terminal, but as they were tangled together, adorning their jackets, the cold didn't seem to be an issue for either of them.

"Sarah, are you nervous?"

The question took her by surprise. She leaned away from him a bit to look into his face. His brow was furrowed in that special way of his and she wanted nothing more than to reach up and rub the wrinkles out of his forehead. Instead, she shook her head. "Nervous about what?"

"This. Leaving with me. Instead of being on a plane back to Burbank, back to your job, your career."

"I'm going back at some point, Chuck. Why should I be nervous? Think of this as an elongated vacation. Sick days. Whatever." She smiled to ease his apparent worry, but it dimmed when he shook his head.

"What if—" He stopped and sighed, rubbing his hand along the thigh of his jeans.

"What if what, Chuck?" she prompted.

"I can't stop thinking about what will happen when all of this is over. The elongated vacation. What happens when we get back? I don't know if I can keep pretending I'm not in love with you. We never did fool Casey and Beckman…the woman has these beady eagle eyes that can see straight through me. You know I can't hide it from her."

"I know," she breathed. "The 49B." As terrified as she'd been of leaving him a year ago, only to be replaced by an agent who didn't know him, who had no interest in taking care of him outside of making sure he wasn't killed, the memory was a sweet one. It was the way he'd defended her against Beckman, fought for her to stay with him, and risked admitting he cared for her in front of people who could just as soon whisk Sarah away from him if they so chose to.

Chuck sat upright, startling her out of her reverie. "Do you think Beckman will do that again? The 49B?"

She shook her head adamantly. "Chuck, no. General Beckman is already too aware of how we feel about each other. Everyone is aware. There's no point in the 49B anymore."

"What about D.C.?"

Sarah's face fell a little. "Chuck, you know I'm not going to D.C. I thought I made it clear, before I left for Paris with Shaw, that I was coming back to you, that this, us, was going to happen. Finally."

"Do you have that choice?"

"There's nothing in D.C. Shaw is dead, Chuck. His projects, everything he was working on for the CIA, that's all dead along with him." He pressed his lips together in what looked suspiciously like regret. "Hey. Look at me." He looked up at her. "Don't let Daniel Shaw make you lose any sleep. I know it's hard, living with the fact that you took a human being's life." Chuck's eyes darted away again. "Hey!" She held his face gently between her hands. "I know that it's hard. I still have nightmares about my Red Test…" She swallowed thickly.

"Sarah…"

"This isn't about me, Chuck. It's about you." She headed off his attempt to comfort her. She was past comfort where Eva Shaw's death was concerned. She'd lived with it for so long that the unbearable ache became a part of her existence, something that would always haunt her no matter what. She'd come to terms with it now. When she found out it was Shaw's wife, she'd thought she was lost again. The walls she'd built around the haunting memory crumbled.

And then Chuck was there, with his Black Ops team, air support—the tank, for God's sake. He found out about her Red Test, that she'd killed because she'd been ordered to, not to protect another human being or to save her country. She'd killed to become an official spy.

Chuck had stood in that train yard that night, unable to pull the trigger where she'd succeeded during her own Red Test. That had left her with debilitating shame. He knew what she'd done. He knew what she was capable of. The thought of how much she must have disappointed him had been what kept her from going to him that day and seeking his comfort. She'd hidden in her room under the covers until Shaw called her to Castle that night to tell her about the Ring compound.

Shaw sent her to retrieve Chuck for the mission and she'd been so nervous, so awfully hurt at the prospect of walking in there and seeing him, seeing the disappointment in his face. He was drunk and pants-less, holding his toy guitar and sitting on the floor. But Morgan promptly informed her that he'd found out she was leaving with Shaw. That was why he was so upset. Not her Red Test, or the fact that she'd killed another human being, but because she was leaving with another man.

She'd shooed Morgan away then, her heart lifting from the abyss where it had settled when she found out her Red Test was Shaw's wife. Chuck single-handedly stamped out all of her fear and self-hatred that had been broiling inside of her since the morning. And she did her best to make sure he knew she loved him. He saved her for the first time in that moment when he took her face in his hands and kissed her back.

"You saved me," she whispered again, for the second time that day. She kissed him softly and pulled back, swiping his hat off of his curls so that she could press her forehead against his.

He smiled and shrugged one shoulder. "I'd do it again. A thousand times over."

"I know."

"Hey!" he said, glancing at his watch quickly and pulling away. "I forgot about something and I wanted to give it to you before we got on the train. I don't know why; I just did." He rummaged in the inside pocket of his jacket and revealed a small, white gardenia.

Sarah couldn't wipe her grin from her face if she tried as Chuck reached out to pin the flower to her jacket lapel.

"Just so you know, it's fake."

"I kinda figured," she answered, her voice cracking with overwhelming happiness. She reached up and felt the petals, letting her fingers run through them. "This is beautiful, Chuck."

"Well, I saw a little flower stand on the street while I was walking here and she assured me that the silk ones are better than the real ones because the petals won't fall off. Which makes sense. So I thought—" The rest of his words were cut off as she surged forward, framing his face with her hands again and kissing him senseless.

They stayed that way for awhile, their lips moving together, their hands wandering, the silk gardenia squished between their bodies, until the approaching sound of the train arriving alerted Sarah to the time.

She pulled her lips from his with a smack, trying to catch her breath as she looked up at the train. "That's our train, Chuck."

"What train?"

She let out an amused huff and climbed off of him, straightening her clothes and tugging him to his feet. They had both been so lost in each other, it was a wonder their luggage still lay at their feet.

Hoisting their respective bags up and taking each other's hand, they hurried towards the train. Chuck pulled her to a stop a few feet from the train door.

"What is it?" she asked in mild concern.

"Are you sure you want this?"

"Don't you?"

"More than anything."

She paused for a moment, then said with every ounce of sincerity she had in her, "Me too."

As they climbed into the train and wandered past the compartments to find their own, Sarah let go of her inhibitions, her fear of the future, her job, the last few days, the last few years, and focused on Chuck Bartowski.

Future be damned. As long as she had Chuck, she'd be alright.

Even if it meant they stayed on this train until Zurich, then got on a plane and disappeared forever; as long as they were together, as long as she was with Chuck, it didn't matter where she ended up, or what she was doing.

And it didn't matter if she had to leave the spy life to keep it that way.

"Hey! Sarah! There's room service!"

A/N: So. That's it.

It was brought to my attention when I first submitted this for the challenge that there are a few inconsistencies in the last bit of my story. I did so much extra research, yet I totally missed how very obvious it is that Chuck isn't the man in that video Morgan and Casey find in the station. That being said, I just left it. You guys don't mind, right? Right.

Although, I'll have to pay more attention next time!

Hope you all enjoyed it! This is the last part. No third part. If you want the third part, you can watch Chuck Versus the Honeymooners. (wink)

Leave a review. They've been proven to make me write like a maniac for you people.

'Til next time, my friends!