Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"With all due respect, Captain Casey, I don't need to babysit some pencil-necked nerd!"

"In terms of due respect, Detective Walker," Casey growled, "I'm just not feeling the love right now."

Sarah Walker lowered her eyes and took in a breath, fighting to regain her composure. She looked across the Major Crimes Division Captain's beat-up desk cluttered with papers, files, two stained coffee cups and other miscellaneous detritus, catching his eyes again. "This is a rookie assignment," Sarah said.

"Maybe," Casey said. "But the Police Commissioner himself asked me to put someone on this guy."

Sarah's eyes widened in surprise. "Graham's involved? What's the deal?"

"Graham's an old army buddy of the Engram Engineering CEO, Diane Beckman. Beckman asked Graham for help and Graham asked me." Casey bared his teeth. "Chain of command, Walker. You should familiarize yourself with the concept."

Sarah frowned. "Why me?"

Casey rolled his eyes. "Don't be a moron. You've got five years of Secret Service protective detail experience. For Christ's sake, you were on the POTUS detail for a year. There's no one in the entire Seattle PD with more knowledge and experience than you."

Sarah forced herself to keep eye contact with Casey. "What's so special about the package?"

"I don't know all the details," Casey said. "Whole deal is classified by the Department of Defense - above my pay-grade. And definitely above yours."

Sarah caught her Captain's implication - shut up and follow orders. Casey was hard, but he was fair, and Sarah had probably pushed him far enough this Sunday afternoon. But frustration continued to vibrate through her.

Sarah looked at her feet and shook her head. She'd promised herself that she'd never be responsible for anyone's life like this, ever again. She took in a long breath. "I … can't do this," she said softly.

"Look, Walker," Casey said, "I know what happened five years ago."

Sarah's head snapped up, her eyes wide.

Casey gave her in incredulous look. "What? You don't think I vetted the hell out of you before I hired you?" he said. "The Service cleared you. Get over it."

For an instant panic roiled in her gut, making it hard to breathe. She forced herself to take in air, focusing her vision on her hands, trying to stay calm. Her mind desperately searched for some way out of her prediciment. A possibility came to her.

"What about finding my new partner?" she asked.

Casey scowled. "Anderson, that little shit. I should shoot him for moving to homicide." He shook his head. "Not your job, Walker. I'll figure out who your new partner will be after you're done with this gig."

Sarah exhaled long and loud. Her shoulders slumped and she sunk back into her chair. She saw the corner of Casey's mouth twitch in an almost smirk. He knew he'd won. Sarah thought that he'd probably known he'd win since the moment she'd walked into his office.

"How long?" Sarah asked. She could hear the defeat in her voice.

"One week, max."

"When do I start?"

Casey leaned forward and grabbed a folder off his desk. "Be at Engram Engineering tomorrow morning, 8am sharp." He tossed the file to Sarah. "Here's the skinny on the package."

Sarah flipped open the file. The cover page contained a brief bio and photo of her assignment. The man was tall and slender with brown hair that curled near his ears and neck. He was probably about her age - early thirties. He looked good in a suit and tie, attractive, almost classically handsome. But what caught Sarah's attention were his eyes. They were a deep chocolate brown, open, inviting and … she had to think for a second, grasping for the right word … kind. Yes, that was it. He had kind eyes. In her line of work Sarah wasn't used to kind eyes. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen eyes like his.

She scanned the biographical information next. Charles Irving Bartowski, Ph.D.; Director of Neural Data Interface Systems at Engram Engineering - what ever the hell that was - with a governmental security clearance of Level 7.

Huh, Sarah thought, a higher clearance than I had. Looks like Dr. Bartowski is working on some military black-ops shit.

She continued to skim down the page. Single, never married. Recruited right out of Stanford University. Earned an MS in Mathematics and a Ph.D. in Computer Science from the University of Washington while working full-time at Engram. Currently directing research for a top secret contract between Engram and the US Department of Defense.

A soft groan escaped Sarah. Not only was this guy a nerd, he was obviously a very smart nerd. And from her experience, really smart people were the worst when it came to interpersonal skills. She could hear him now, droning on about formulas and theories and other boring and completely inconsequential trivia. Hell, he was probably a sci-fi fanatic and she was going to get an earful of science fiction crap for the entire week. This was definitely going to be a grueling job.

"Oh, and Walker," Casey said.

Sarah looked up from the file and caught the evil grin on Casey's face.

"Bartowski has let it be known that he absolutely, positively, does not want a bodyguard," Casey finished.

Sarah groaned. Ducky. Just ducky.

Chuck Bartowski jogged down the long hallway of the top floor of Engram Engineering toward the office of his boss and the company's CEO, retired army general, Diane Beckman. He liked Beckman. She was tough, but fair. And she'd recognized his talent and set him loose on a top-secret project for the government that was challenging, exciting and combined his passions of mathematics and computer science. But right now he was definitely not happy with her.

He was running late and as he entered the outer office Beckman's administrative assistant gestured toward the CEO's door. Chuck kept walking but turned toward the young woman and waved, giving her a cheery, "Morning, Anna."

Anna smiled and waved back. "Good morning, Chuck."

When he reached the door he paused for a moment to straighten his tie and smooth down his suit jacket. Then he opened the door and plowed forward into Beckman's office, readying his argument against the company assigning him a bodyguard.

"Diane," he said as he opened the door and stepped through, "this whole thing is ridiculous and I don't need-" His voice locked-up and he stopped dead in his tracks.

Beckman was standing by one of the huge windows that overlooked downtown Seattle, talking to a woman. As Chuck came rushing in she'd stopped talking and turned toward him.

But it wasn't Beckman that had Chuck pulling-up short and tongue-tied.

Chuck had seen his fair share of gorgeous women, but this woman was beyond beautiful. Tall and statuesque, her conservative blue pants suit and form fitting white camisole blouse under her blazer hinted at an athletic and perfectly proportioned body. Long blond hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, reflecting the sunlight beaming in through the window. And when she turned toward him he saw the face of an angle. But it was her eyes - a deep, azure blue - that mesmerized him. He couldn't look away.

Chuck sputtered, "Ahh … sorry … sorry to interrupt." He continued to stare at the blond goddess. That was the only word he could think of that totally described the woman. She gave him a small smile, almost a smirk and Chuck realized that he was staring at her with his mouth hanging open. He snapped his jaw shut and felt the familiar heat of embarrassment creeping up his neck into his cheeks.

"Not a problem," Beckman said. "Thank you for coming, Chuck."

Chuck managed to pull his gaze from the blonde and looked at Beckman. "Diane, I thought you wanted me here to talk about, well … you know," he said.

"About assigning you a bodyguard until the DOD project is delivered next week," Beckman finished for him.

"But …" Chuck rolled his eyes and tilted his head toward the blonde woman.

"Don't worry, Chuck, she's got clearance. I just read her in," Beckman said. "She knows everything about the project except for the clients and deployment details."

"Oh," Chuck said, feeling a little confused. Maybe this new person was support staff for Diane, here to take notes and document the meeting. Or maybe she was someone from the DOD since the DOD would certainly want to know what was going on if there was concern for the safety of the project lead for their contract. Well, for whatever reason, if this woman was read-in then he could continue to tell Diane that this whole thing was a dumb idea.

"Diane, this whole thing is a dumb idea," Chuck, said as he closed the distance to stand next to the two women. "I don't need a bodyguard."

Beckman narrowed her eyes. "Chuck, two days ago your damn brakes went out, your car crashed and you're lucky you got out alive with just a mild concussion. Then your car disappears before the police can examine it for possible sabotage and they still can't find it." Beckman squared her stance and put her hands on her hips. "I can tell you from running army covert operations for 20 years that if those are coincidences then I'll pose for the next cover of the Sports Illustrated swim suit issue."

Chuck's eyes went wide and he heard the blonde women stifle a snort.

"Good! Now that I have your attention …" Beckman said.

"No, Diane," Chuck interrupted. "There's no conspiracy to kill me. It was just a mechanical failure. I'm a systems engineer and systems fail all the time. In fact, it's the nature of systems to fail. My car just failed. That's all."

"Fine," Beckman said.

"Good," Chuck said, nodding and smiling at both women. "I'm glad we were able to resolve this."

"But you're still getting a bodyguard," Beckman said.

Silence filled the room as Chuck fought to keep his cool. Finally he took a breath. "Diane, I do not need a muscle-bound, pea-brained, Neanderthal following me around everywhere."

"Tough," Beckman said, staring him down.

Chuck let out an exasperated breath, but kept quiet. He knew his boss and he knew he when he was beaten.

Beckman waited, and when Chuck offered no further rebuttal she said, "Now, let's get down to business."

Chuck's shoulders slumped. "Fine. When do I get to meet him."

Beckman turned toward the blond woman. "Chuck, this is Seattle Police Detective, Sarah Walker."

Before Beckman could continue the introduction the detective stepped forward offering her hand and said, with a predatory grin, "Hi, I'm your very own muscle-bound, pea-brained, Neanderthal."

Chuck's mouth dropped open - again. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a groan.

Worst. Day. Ever.

Chapter Text

Chuck rushed after Sarah as she marched down the hall toward the elevator. He put a hand on her shoulder. "Wait a sec, Detective."

Sarah stopped and looked at his hand as she slowly turned toward him. She brought her eyes to his and Chuck understood the not-so-subtle message of her glare. He jerked his hand back.

"Look, I'm sorry about the Neanderthal comment," Chuck said, his feet shuffling nervously.

"You think a woman can't do this job?" Sarah asked, narrowing her eyes.

Chuck recoiled slightly. This woman scared him, and he'd only just met her. "No! No, no, no. That's not what I think." He ran a hand through his thick hair, averting his eyes. "It's just, you're not what I expected."

"What were you expecting, Dr. Bartowski?" Sarah asked, her tone impatient.

"Ahhhh … ummmm …," words wouldn't come to Chuck. He felt the heat rising in his cheeks again as he gestured toward Sarah with both hands pointing toward her feet and raising them with his gaze as he indicated her entire body. "Not … this," he choked out.

Sarah's eyes went wide for a moment and Chuck wasn't sure if she was surprised or angry. She turned away and started walking toward the elevator. Angry, he decided. Definitely angry.

Chuck caught up to Sarah as she pushed the elevator call button. "I don't need a bodyguard," Chuck said as he stared nervously at the elevator doors. "I think Beckman's overacting."

"Agreed," Sarah said, also staring at the elevator doors.

"Good," Chuck said, a little surprised. "So, maybe if both of us talk to her - together - we can convince her to change her mind. You won't have to put up with me and I can get on with my work. Win - win."

Sarah turned her head toward Chuck. "Look, Dr. Bartowski," she began, but Chuck interrupted.

"It's just Chuck," he said. "The whole Dr. title thingy just seems too pretentious."

"Dr. Bartowski," Sarah continued, her blue eyes intense, "I've got a job to do. If you want to work on Beckman, knock yourself out. But until I get a call from my Captain to stand down, your safety is my responsibility."

"But-" Chuck stammered.

Sarah cut him off. "And you have one - and only one - thing to do," she said.

Chuck felt his chest tighten. "What's that?"

"Follow my directions … exactly. If I tell you to do something, do it immediately - no hesitation, no questions asked. Your life may depend on it. You may not like me, but you have to trust me."

Chuck just started at her.

"Do I make myself clear," Sarah growled.

"Clear," Chuck said, his voice subdued.

"Good," Sarah said. "Now, let's get on with your day. Sounds like you have a lot of work to do. Remember, my cover is that I'm your new personal assistant. Don't tell anyone I'm protecting you. The fewer people that know, the safer you are. Understand?"

Chuck swallowed hard and nodded, his hands feeling cold and clammy. Yep, this woman totally freaked him out.

The elevator bell chimed and the doors opened. Chuck saw Sarah frown as she turned toward the elevator and stepped inside.

Sarah shadowed Chuck all day as he moved throughout the Engram facility, attending one boring meeting after another, talking with various project staff that he obviously supervised.

As Sarah hung back and observed Chuck she learned two new things about him. First, he was hopelessly optimistic. Even when confronted with project difficulties or frustrated staff members he didn't dwell on the problems. Instead he focused on encouraging his staff, acknowledging their hard work and expressing his confidence that they would find a solution. Sarah was surprised at the hint of admiration she was beginning to feel for the man. He wasn't a complete interpersonal boob after all.

Second, Chuck was not what he appeared to be when dealing with the opposite sex. As the day progressed Sarah was shocked at the number of female staff overtly flirting with him. They'd brush up against Chuck's side as they talked, touch him on the arm, laugh and titter at his remarks, bob and nod in agreement with everything he said.

What surprised Sarah was how Chuck handled all the flirting. So far, around her, he had come across as nervous and awkward. But with these other woman he appeared relaxed and in control. He didn't flirt back, but he wasn't awkward, either. He continued to engage each woman, focusing on the work at hand while deflecting the flirtation without calling attention to it or embarrassing the woman. If Chuck had wanted to, he probably could have hooked-up with half the female staff in the building. Yet, he maintained a professional distance. When she thought about it, it was obvious why a woman might be attracted to Chuck. He was good looking, smart, successful and - she knew from his profile - had a net worth upwards of eight figures.

One attractive, busty team leader had even popped open the top two buttons of her blouse, exposing a generous amount of cleavage in Chuck's line of sight, cozying up next to him as they'd hovered over schematics on a work table. That had ignited a flare of anger in Sarah and before she realized it she had stepped toward Chuck to intervene. She caught herself and stopped, surprised at her reaction. She forced the anger down and regained her composure. She wasn't sure why she'd reacted to strongly.

Late in the afternoon Chuck had a meeting that Sarah didn't have the clearance to enter. He'd given her a sheepish grin and apologized. She'd told him she'd wait in the hallway. He'd come back out of the conference room and surprised her with a chair, which - Sarah thought in retrospect - was considerate, even kind of sweet.

Sarah hadn't worried about not being in the conference room with Chuck. There was only one entrance in and out and it was unlikely anyone in that particular meeting would try to kill him. They all had a huge vested interest in Chuck Bartowski surviving the week and delivering the project. And even if someone in the room did kill him, Sarah would collar the assassin as they tried to escape, putting another bad guy behind bars. Beckman would just have to find another scientist to finish the job and the DOD would have to live with their project being delayed. It happened all the time. No big deal.

As the day wore on Sarah found it harder and harder to believe that Dr. Charles Bartowski could be on anyone's hit list. Her resentment continued to simmer toward her captain for wasting her time with this assignment. Well, she only had to cover Chuck's ass for a week. Then she'd be done, Casey would assign her a new partner and she'd be back on the street. She could gut it out.

Chapter Text

The day was more hectic than usual for Chuck. The project for the DOD was scheduled for delivery in a week and there was still a lot of work to do. But he and his team were in the home stretch, the remaining work clearly outlined and scheduled. All Chuck needed to do was make sure tasks were progressing on time and encourage his staff to keep moving forward.

All of the critical research, design and testing requiring Chuck's expertise and hands-on involvement and been completed months ago. Now, his team was assembling and testing the software modules and next Monday Chuck would upload the last critical, top secret module of code that only he had access to, in order to make the project operational. Once he hit enter on his keyboard the project would go live and he'd be free. He'd enjoyed the challenge, but after a year he was ready for something different.

Chuck found it impossible to ignore Sarah hovering in the background. Even though she tried to be unobtrusive, her presence was almost palpable to him. They'd used her cover - introducing Sarah as his new, temporary personal assistant to those that asked about her. As he engaged different people Chuck wasn't oblivious to how the women around him bristled at Sarah's presence, while the guys couldn't take their eyes off her.

At one point one while he was checking in with people in a large computer laboratory one of his lead programmers and longtime friend, Morgan, pulled him aside. "Wow, Chuck, where did you find her? She's off the charts," Morgan whispered.

"Temp agency," Chuck whispered back. "And she's not here because of her looks."

"Sure, sure," Morgan said quickly. His face turned serious. "Anything going on between you two?"

Chuck gave Morgan a flat look. "No," he said. "Why would you think that?"

"You're kidding, right?" Morgan ask, astonished.

"Not following you, Morgan."

"Dude! She's like, super-hot. She's obviously got brains if she's been assigned to you. And she's a temp. Meaning she won't be working for you forever." Morgan waggled his eyebrows. "Meaning you two could hook-up." Morgan shot a glance toward Sarah. "And who wouldn't want to worship a vision like that."

For a moment Chuck considered Morgan's logic. He was right on all counts. Morgan just didn't know the type of temporary work Sarah was doing.

Chuck wondered what it would be like to meet Sarah again, a fresh start, without putting his foot in his mouth and without her being frustrated about being his bodyguard. Just a man and a woman crossing paths and getting to know each other. Sarah was intriguing and completely different from the women that usually hit on him. But as quickly as the thought came, it fizzled. Sarah Walker was way out of his league. She was smart, gorgeous and a real-life badass. She probably had men waiting in line, just as smart and gorgeous and badass as her.

"If you guys aren't interested in each other … would you mind if I … you know …," Morgan let the sentence hang.

Normally Chuck was patient with his staff, and especially Morgan, who was one of his closer friends. But that request had struck a nerve. "Give it rest, Morgan," Chuck snapped.

Morgan stepped back. "Whoa. Sorry, man. Didn't mean to piss you off."

Chuck blew out a breath. He had no idea where that had come from. God, he was total jerk. If Morgan wanted to try and hook-up with Sarah Walker, that was Morgan's business, not his. After all, it made sense. Sarah was super-model hot and Chuck had just told Morgan that there was nothing going on between them.

Chuck glanced at Sarah standing several lab tables over and once again realized how striking she was. She was constantly scanning their surroundings and for an instant her eyes caught his. He looked away quickly and turned back to his friend. Rubbing the back of his neck Chuck leaned toward Morgan. "Sorry, buddy," he said softly. "I guess I'm more stressed out than I thought."

"Hey, no problem," Morgan said, clapping his hand on Chuck's shoulder.

Chuck winced as a burst of pain shot through him. His left shoulder and rib cage had suffered serious contusions from the seatbelt and airbag when his car had crashed. The entire left side of his upper body was a mass of dark purple and green bruises. He braced himself, hiding his discomfort.

"If you're interested in Walker, give it a shot," Chuck said, forcing a smile.

"Cool. Thanks bro," Morgan said.

A few minutes later Chuck left the lab, Sarah close by his side. They took the elevator to the top floor for a meeting on Chuck's schedule. As they reached the conference room Chuck turned toward her. "I'm really sorry. You're not cleared for this meeting."

"How's that?" Sarah asked.

"It's a client meeting. Specific people will be there and you don't have the security clearance to know who they are," Chuck explained.

"Is this the only way in or out of the room?" Sarah asked.

"Yeah."

"And you'll know everyone in the room?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, no problem," Sarah said. "I'll just wait out here."

"You sure?" Chuck asked. "It might take an hour or more. You could take a break, head down to the cafeteria, get a cup of coffee. Just give them my employee number and they'll put it on my account."

"Thirty-foot rule," Sarah said.

Chuck cocked his head. "Eh?"

"Keep the package within thirty feet at all times," she explained.

Chuck frowned. "I'm just a … package?"

"Figure of speech," Sarah said. "Don't take it personally."

"So … bodyguard talk?"

"Exactly."

Chuck shuffled his feet. "Well, I'm gonna head inside," he said, pointing at the door.

"I'll be right here," Sarah said.

Chuck ducked into the large conference room. Before anyone had a chance to acknowledge him he grabbed a chair sitting by the door and took it into the hallway, offering it to Sarah. At first she looked surprised. Then, for just an instant, her face blossomed into a smile. It was warm and sincere, traveling all the way up to her blue eyes, and it lit up the entire world. Chuck hadn't seen Sarah Walker smile yet, which made total sense after he'd inadvertently called her a Neanderthal earlier that morning. But now that he'd seen her smile, he knew he'd never forget it.

Chuck was so stunned he almost didn't hear the "thank you," Sarah offered.

He gave his head a shake and smiled back. "Sure," he said. It was hard for him to pull his gaze away from her, but he forced himself to turn and reenter the conference room.

Beckman beckoned Chuck over to the large conference table where half a dozen people congregated around coffee and pastries. He knew everyone. They were technically the project "clients", with their support staff, and he'd worked closely with all of them for the past year.

Representing the Department of Defense was Army General Richard Stansfield, attended to by several of his top aides. The other major client for this project was Milae Engineering, a South Korean technology firm, represented by that company's US liaison, Daniel Blackbriar and his support staff.

What made this project top secret was that Milae Engineering was actually a covert arm of the South Korean military and this project was a partnership between the US and South Korean governments to develop and deploy clandestine data mining and surveillance technology targeting North Korea.

"Dr. Bartowski," Stansfield said, acknowledging Chuck.

"Hello General. It's good to see you," Chuck said.

Stansfield nodded. He was a stoic man, befit his rank and experience. In his sixties, Stansfield was tall with thick, silver hair and a refined manner. Chuck liked him.

Without warning a large hand slapped Chuck hard on the back. "Chuck! How've you been?"

Another jolt of pain shot through Chuck's shoulder as he turned to find Daniel Blackbriar, who was as tall as Chuck, nose to nose with him. "I've been good, Daniel. Thanks," Chuck said.

Besides being tall, Blackbriar was magazine model handsome. About Chuck's age, Daniel was muscular and fit, with thick black hair and dark brown eyes. And where the general was quiet and reserved, Blackbriar was brash and outgoing. Chuck didn't dislike Blackbriar, but he'd found that Daniel was an acquired taste.

Blackbriar grabbed Chuck's hand, his grip firm. "Great. I'm looking forward to next week. You've done a great job Chuck. You should be proud."

About thirty minutes into the meeting the group turned their attention to Chuck. He summarized the status of the project, the current tasks his staff were working on and assured Stansfield, Blackbriar and, most importantly, his boss, that the project would be up and running next Monday.

For this meeting there was an additional topic of discussion - Chuck's suspicious car accident. Beckman assured Stansfield and Blackbriar that, although there was no evidence of foul play, given Chuck's critical importance to the project's completion she had taken precautions and secured around-the-clock protection from an experienced bodyguard who was also a police officer. Beckman briefed the group on Sarah Walker's background, experience and credentials. Chuck was especially attentive to Beckman's briefing, smiling to himself because he'd hit the information mother-load on Sarah Walker. After a few questions, Stansfield and Blackbriar seemed satisfied and that particular discussion concluded.

Chuck's part in these meetings was always pro-forma. But the nature of the project and the importance to Engram of the hundred-million-dollar contract always crystalized in these discussions and it overwhelmed him. The stress of the project always hovered in the background, but during these client meetings the pressure hit him hard and it took everything he had to keep it together. By the end of every meeting he was exhausted.

"Thank you, Chuck," Beckman said. "It's getting late and you can go. General Stansfield, Mr. Blackbriar and I have some financial issues to discuss."

"Sure," Chuck said. "Safe travels back to DC, General."

Stansfield nodded.

"Daniel, are you flying back to Seoul?" Chuck asked Blackbriar.

"No. I'm sticking around," Blackbriar said. "Got some business to take care of. And I want to be here when we go live. Exciting stuff," he said with a grin. "I'll see you next week."

"Sounds good," Chuck said. He nodded toward the others in the room, "Good evening, everyone," he said as he rose and walked out into the hallway.

Sure enough, Sarah was waiting, right where he'd left her. She stood and stepped toward him.

"What now?" she asked.

He didn't answer. He always needed a moment after a client meeting to center himself and slow his racing heart.

Chuck took a breath and the hallway started to spin. He stumbled and leaned heavily against the wall, close to passing out. He bent forward, resting his hands on his thighs, closing his eyes to stop the spinning. This had happened to him a couple of times in the past two days. The result of too much stress and the concussion from his car accident. He knew it would pass. He just needed to keep from falling on his ass.

Instantly Chuck felt Sarah's arm slip around his waist, taking his weight. Her voice was precise and focused and he could feel her breath warm against his face. "Chuck?" she said. "Chuck, what's wrong?"

Even in his disorientation he could hear the concern in her tone. He felt Sarah's grip tighten, her upper body sliding in close under his shoulder and against his ribs to support him. The pressure on his injuries sent spikes of pain through him. Forcing himself to take shallow breaths, Chuck pushed the pain down and managed to open his eyes. The spinning had almost stopped.

"Dizzy," he said. "Just … need a minute."

Sarah continued to hold him close. "Did you eat or drink anything in the meeting?" she asked, her voice clipped and urgent. "Did anyone touch you?"

"What?" Chuck said, trying to focus on Sarah's face.

"Poison," was all Sarah said in reply.

In his haze Chuck realized that Sarah was in bodyguard mode. She was trying to determine if someone had tried to kill him.

"I'm okay," he said. "No poison. Concussion. Too much stress." He took another breath, his vision clearing. He locked his knees, taking more of his weight. "See. All better."

"Are you sure?" Sarah asked.

"Yeah," he said, standing a little taller, the strength returning to his legs and arms.

"Let's get you to a doctor," Sarah said.

"Not necessary."

"But-"

"This is what the doctor told me could happen. I've already been through a couple of these," Chuck said, feeling stronger. "I appreciate the concern, I really do. But I'm okay."

They stood in silence, Sarah still holding tightly onto Chuck. Now that he was more coherent his senses were hyper-aware of every inch of Sarah's body molded against his. He could feel the strength of her shoulder under his arm, the suppleness of her breast pushing into his ribs, her hip pressing against his thigh. He looked down into Sarah's eyes and found her staring up into his. His gaze dropped to her lips and he wondered how they would taste pressed against his.

Chuck lifted his eyes to Sarah's and cleared his throat. "Not that this isn't nice - because it is - but I think I can stand on my own."

Sarah flinched. She unwrapped her arm from Chuck's waist and pulled back, averting her eyes.

And for the first time Chuck saw a sign of weakness in Detective Sarah Walker - the blush rising in the perfectly smooth skin of her pale cheeks. He couldn't help pressing this advantage, so he said, "You know, you called me Chuck just now."

Sarah seemed to gather her wits quickly, which made sense, since she was a cop. She looked back at Chuck, defiance burning in her eyes. "Heat of the moment," she said.

He chuckled. "Got that right."

Sarah gave him a scowl. She'd definitely caught the innuendo. "Next time I'll let your pretty face smash into the floor," she shot back.

"I have a pretty face?" Chuck asked, feeling the smirk on his lips.

Sarah shook her head in disgust, although Chuck wasn't sure if it was real or feigned. She turned and walked toward the elevator. "Time to go … Dr. Bartowski."

Chapter Text

Chuck felt exhausted and let his weight rest against the elevator wall. He had hardly slept over the past three days. Three nights ago he'd been in the hospital for observation after his car crash and concussion. The next night he'd been at home but found it difficult to stay asleep as he nursed his headache and the aches from the bruises on his shoulder and chest. And last night he'd ruminated over Beckman telling him he'd be getting a bodyguard the next morning. He really didn't think he was in danger. But he couldn't easily dismiss Beckman's opinion and expertise and despite his outward resistance, he was a little freaked out that someone might actually be trying to kill him.

What he hadn't counted on was the fear gnawing at his gut that if an assassin made an attempt on his life, Sarah Walker could die trying to protect him.

"You alright?" Sarah asked.

Chuck looked up and nodded. "Yeah. Just … really tired."

Sarah turned her attention back to the floor indicator lights as the elevator dropped to the parking garage.

Chuck had no doubt Sarah would do anything to protect him - not because of who he was - but because she was a dedicated professional and the best of the best at this type of work. He'd learned a lot about Sarah Walker during Beckman's briefing to Stansfield and Blackbriar.

She'd been recruited directly from San Diego State University into the Secret Service. She advanced quickly, showing an aptitude for protective work. After three years she was assigned to the elite detail protecting the US President. After that one year post she'd been assigned to protect a special Whitehouse Middle East negotiation envoy. After one year on that detail she'd left the Secret Service, coming to the Seattle Police Department where she'd distinguished herself as a detective in the Major Crimes Division for the past five years. Definitely a real live badass.

The elevator stopped and the bell chimed. The door slid open and Chuck began to step out. Sarah's arm shot out smacking him hard in the chest, pushing him back behind her. His bruises flared white-hot.

"Ow! Crap." he said and glared at her. "What was that for?"

"You really don't get it do you," Sarah said.

"Get what?"

Sarah shook her head. "I go first and clear the area. You stay put until I tell you it's safe."

Chuck huffed out a breath and rubbed his chest as Sarah leaned out the elevator door, her right hand under her blazer, probably on her handgun. She did a quick scan of the parking area. There were only a few cars present, providing few places for an assassin to hide. Looking satisfied, Sarah stepped back and nodded at Chuck to move forward.

"All clear," she said.

Chuck took a step toward his rental car.

"Wait," Sarah said.

"What?" Chuck yelped as he jerked to a stop and whipped around toward Sarah, almost smashing into her she was so close behind him.

They both froze, faces inches from each other. Chuck could sense the heat from her body. He smelled the faintest scent of lavender. And, once again, her eyes completely disarmed him, sucking every coherent thought right out of his brain.

Sarah cleared her throat and stepped back. "My car. I'm driving."

Chuck forced his brain back on track. "Oh … yeah … okay," he said. He followed Sarah as she made her way to the far wall of the garage.

When Sarah reached her black convertible she activated the key FOB and the Porsche chirped. She tilted her head toward the car. "Get in," she said.

Chuck stopped for moment, admiring the car. "Nice ride," he said.

"Thanks," Sarah said. "I like it."

Sarah's casual response cut through some of the tension he felt between them and Chuck let himself relax a little.

"Yeeeahhhh," he said. "What's not to like."

Chuck saw the hint of another smile on Sarah's face. She eyed him for a moment, then said, "Come on. Let's go."

Sarah made sure Chuck was belted-in and a minute later she pulled the Porsche onto the street.

"So, this bodyguard thing means you have to drive me around?" Chuck asked.

"That's part of the job," she said.

"Wow. My own chauffeur. Was that included with the basic bodyguard package or did we have to upgrade to the platinum plan?" he said with a tentative laugh.

Sarah blinked.

This is new. Humor. From the nerd. Interesting.

She gave him a sidelong glance, saying nothing, then turned her attention back to the road.

In the mirror Sarah monitored the silver SUV three cars back that she'd noticed a few minutes ago. She wasn't sure if it was a tail. Probably not, given that the possibility of Chuck being an assassination target was practically nil. Nevertheless, she switched lanes, watching the SUV closely. Her pulse jumped when a few seconds later it matched her maneuver, still maintaining its distance.

"So," Chuck said, "I'm kinda hungry. I imagine you are too. How about we stop and get some dinner?"

Sarah pulled her eyes from the road and gave Chuck a look. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously.

"Not that I'm asking you out … to dinner," Chuck quickly explained. "I just thought we could stop somewhere. You know - get a sandwich, something to drink. Bodyguards need to eat too. Right?"

Sarah flicked her eyes to the mirror. The SUV was still there. She moved to the right lane. The silver car continued in the left lane not gaining or losing any distance between them. She licked dry lips, her shoulders tight.

"What do you think?" Chuck asked. "I'll even pay for extra pickles."

She turned her attention to Chuck for a moment. "No public places," she said.

"What? Oh, come on Detective, just a quick stop. I know a great sandwich place."

"You go there often?" Sarah asked.

Chuck nodded. "Yeah. Great food, craft beer, you'll love it.

"If someone's trying to kill you, Dr. Bartowski, they will have surveilled you. They'll know your habits and behaviors. They'll know the restaurants you frequent, the gym you go to, when you go to bed, when you get up, the type of toothpaste you use. My job is to protect you, not make you a sitting-duck."

Sarah downshifted the Porsche and brought it to a stop at a red light. The SUV was still several cars behind them. Her sweaty palms gripped the steering wheel like a vice. She needed to do something to determine if this guy was a tail, and if so, shake him.

The light turned green. Sarah eased the Porsche forward, checking the traffic to her left, making ready for a quick lane change so she could rabbit and see if the SUV followed. If it did she'd need to lose it and get Chuck out of danger.

Traffic picked up speed. The high-performance engine whined as she let the RPMs climb. She took in a breath, held it, clamping down on the steering wheel with one hand, the gear shift with the other. Leaning forward she tensed her foot against the gas pedal ready to slam it to the floor. She took one last look in the mirror.

The SUV signaled and turned right, disappearing down a side street.

Sarah blew out a hard breath, relief flooding through her. She sat back, trying to force her muscles to relax but the surge of adrenaline had spiked her heart rate and her breathing was shallow. She'd forgotten how much she hated this feeling. When she'd started with the Secret Service she'd loved the rush. But she had been young and stupid then. And she hadn't lost anyone yet.

Sarah realized Chuck had gone quiet. She glanced over at him. He was staring at her, his lips pressed tight.

"What?" Sarah asked.

"You okay?" Chuck asked. "You look kinda … I don't know … tense."

Surprised that she'd let her emotions show so easily, Sarah redoubled her efforts to calm her body. "I'm fine," she said as she continued to guide the sports car through Seattle streets. "It's just the traffic."

Chuck nodded but didn't look convinced. After a moment he turned and faced forward, his hands in his lap.

Internally Sarah replayed what had just happened and cursed herself. She'd been lazy, thinking there was no credible threat against Chuck's life. Whether or not there was an actual threat, wasn't the issue. The issue was she needed to act like there was. The SUV had rattled her. And although it had turned out to be a false alarm it had reminded her that people who cared deeply about this nerdy, quirky, brilliant scientist had asked her to take on the responsibility of keeping him safe. He deserved more from her than the half-assed attitude she'd had throughout the day.

Chuck was a genuinely nice guy - a rarity in Sarah's world - and she was beginning to understand why he engendered such respect and was liked so much by those in his life. She was a little suspicious that she was beginning to like him too. And that was a serious problem.

Sarah couldn't effectively protect Chuck if she was concerned about him as a person. That was the reason protection professionals referred to their client as a package. Objectifying a human being - turning them into an inanimate object in your mind - made it easier to do whatever was necessary to protect them. It removed feelings from the equation and allowed for clear thinking and precise action in life and death situations. To be an effective bodyguard your emotions had to be completely locked down. Otherwise you were a liability, not an asset, when it came to protecting someone else's life. No one knew that better than her.

And right now Sarah was an emotional basket-case. She was frustrated with this job and angry with her Captain for putting her in this situation. She was struggling to keep the fear and pain of the past buried deep inside. And she was beginning to care about what happened to Chuck. All of this, she realized, was a recipe for disaster.

Sarah decided right then that if Charles Bartowski was really in danger and was to have any chance of survival, she needed to pull herself off this job. Casey needed to put someone who wasn't emotionally compromised in charge of protecting Chuck. A plan took shape in Sarah's head. She'd get Chuck home where she could more easily protect him through the night. In the morning she'd call Casey and convince him that she needed to stand down.

Sarah knew this was the right thing to do. But it went against the very grain of her essence and she couldn't help feeling like a coward and a failure.

Get a grip, Walker, Sarah thought. Better me eating crow than Chuck eating a bullet.

Chapter Text

Chuck sat in silence after Sarah had rejected his suggestion about going to a restaurant. She was right and he felt foolish. And even though he didn't think anyone was out to kill him, he'd been a complete idiot to not consider that sitting down in a public place was a stupid idea.

Chuck had caught the momentary lapse in Sarah's emotional brick wall, her stress leaking through for an instant. He felt stupid for not even considering the emotional and psychological strain on her. She was trained to cover it up. But putting yourself out in front — ready to take an assassin's bullet for someone you barely knew — had to mess with you no matter how badass you were.

He didn't want anything bad to happen to Sarah Walker. He'd never be able to forgive himself if she got hurt because of him. But Chuck had no doubt that Sarah would take a bullet if it meant saving the life of the person she was charged to protect. And he really didn't like that.

Chuck tried to swallow but his mouth was dry and his throat hurt. He didn't know what else to say to Sarah as she piloted her Porsche through congested streets. He'd never been good around beautiful women, tripping over his words, and even sometimes his own feet. But this woman was the double-whammy. Not only was Detective Sarah Walker runway model gorgeous, she was a badass. Her job was to keep him safe and if she had to jump down his throat to do it, she would. She'd done it already.

Eventually Sarah parked the Porsche in the driveway of his modern, two-story house. They sat in awkward silence staring out the windshield. Chuck felt the tension pooling in his neck and shoulders. The day had sucked, big-time. Not necessarily because of Sarah, but from the stress of the whole situation. And he had at least seven more days to endure. He let out a sigh. He was looking forward to some alone-time, food, a shower and maybe playing a video game before calling it a night. He really needed a break.

"Well, thanks for … ah, … protecting me," Chuck said. He turned to open his door. "I guess I'll see you in the morning. You want to pick me up around seven?"

Sarah opened her door and stepped out of the Porsche at the same time as Chuck. He gave her a puzzled look over the top of the car.

"You still don't get how this whole bodyguard thing works," Sarah said. She walked to the front of the car, opened the hood and pulled out a duffle bag and a small backpack from the storage compartment.

"Ah … what are you doing?" Chuck asked.

"I'm getting my stuff," Sarah replied. "You didn't think I was gonna borrow one of your t-shirts to sleep in, did you?

"Slee … sleep?"

"Don't worry, I'll take the couch," Sarah said.

"Oh. Um, there may still be some logistical challenges."

"Like what? Your house is freaking huge."

"Yeah, about that," Chuck said with a sheepish expression. "I really don't live in the house."

Sarah stepped in front of him and dropped her bags on the driveway. "Excuse me," she said.

"The place just isn't … it doesn't fit me," he said. "I bought it two years ago after my colleagues told me I should enjoy the money I'd earned. They said a nicer home was a great investment and a just reward. So, I bought this place."

"Well, they were right," Sarah said. "It's nice and in this neighborhood it's a great investment."

"I know. But I've just never felt comfortable in it," Chuck said. He pulled a hand through his hair. "Ellie - that's my sister who raised me - she and I grew up living in small apartments. We struggled to make ends meet after our parents left us. This feels to opulent - like a waste of money. And it's so big for just one person. I feel … lost in it." Chuck turned his gaze to the house. "So, as soon as this DOD project is done and I can take a breather I plan to list it for sale."

"Well, if you don't live in the house, where do you live?" Sarah asked.

"Out back, in a loft over the garage."

Sarah sighed. "You've got to be kidding."

"Actually, it's pretty cool," Chuck said. He grabbed her duffle bag and backpack and took a step up the driveway. "Come on, I'll show you."

Before Chuck took his second step he felt Sarah's hand clamp down on his forearm. She jerked him back so hard he dropped the bags. Pain flared in his injured shoulder and chest and he hissed out a breath. Sarah spun him so he faced her and pushed him back against the car.

"What did I tell you?" she growled. "We talked about this. I always go first." Her jaw was set, her head tilted slightly down and she looked up through her lashes with an angry glare. "Never do that again. Do you understand?"

Chuck felt his heart jump into his throat. Cold sweat broke out on his neck. He hadn't seen this side of Sarah Walker. And if he'd thought she was scary before, she was terrifying now.

He nodded.

It was everything Chuck could do to keep eye contact with Sarah. He didn't know what had triggered this reaction compared to her almost casual behavior when he'd jumped the gun and stepped out of the elevator earlier. But he knew one thing for certain, now was not the time for anything other than complete deference to his bodyguard.

Sarah stared into his eyes for a moment longer and then, seemingly satisfied with what she saw in them, she dropped her hand from his chest and stepped back.

A moment passed and Chuck spoke. "I understand. I don't like it, but I understand."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, you don't like it?"

Chuck let out a breath and looked away. "Forget it."

Another beat of silence passed and then Sarah slung her backpack over one shoulder and handed Chuck her duffle. "Follow me and stay quiet."

Pulling a small flashlight from her backpack Sarah led the way up the driveway alongside the house. She moved forward cautiously, her eyes scanning, her ears listening. They rounded the back corner of the house. There was enough ambient light from the street and neighboring houses that she could make out a large, two story garage in the back corner of the lot.

"That's the stairway to the loft," Chuck said, pointing to a set of stars on the exterior wall that climbed to a small landing with a door.

With Sarah in the lead they climbed the stairs and Chuck keyed the security code into the entry pad. Sarah opened the door a few inches and lights came on inside. She ducked her head in quickly to see the layout and then pulled it out. It was a simple, open floor plan, with only one door leading into a small room in the far back corner.

She turned to Chuck. "Is that the bathroom in the back?" she whispered.

"Yes," Chuck whispered back.

"Wait here. I need to check it out."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Chuck whispered. "I know it's kinda small and there's no tub, only a shower. But it gets the job done."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "I'm checking it for an assassin."

"Oh. Right. You … ah … go ahead."

"Don't move from this spot. Capeesh?"

Chuck nodded vigorously. "Capeeshing and not moving."

Sarah pulled her Glock and walked quietly across the floor. It was unlikely anyone was hiding in the bathroom, but following protocol to clear and secure a space had saved her life in the past. And she was still spooked by the SUV, so there'd be no short-cuts tonight.

The bathroom was, indeed, empty and she holstered her pistol.

Now that her charge was safe Sarah took a moment to look around. The loft was one large room, as big as her entire two-bedroom apartment. Along the back wall next to the bathroom was a built-in kitchenette. At the other end of the room was a huge flat screen TV sitting on a multi-tiered stand with four gaming consoles stacked on the shelves. Along the wall opposite the loft entrance was a queen bed with a free-standing armoire and dresser next to it. Against the wall by the door was a workstation with a desktop computer and two large monitors displaying a checkerboard of small video feeds from the infrared security cameras positioned all over the property and inside the house and lower garage area. Filling the rest of that wall were shelves and shelves of books, DVDs, CDs, video games and photographs. Finally, in the middle of the space facing the TV was a very long, puffy leather couch sitting on an oval area rug with a heavy mahogany coffee table as long as the couch sitting in front of it.

Sarah did another visual circuit of the room and noticed that the walls were hung with various science fiction movie posters, including Tron and Star Wars. She'd been right, the nerd was a science fiction fan.

"Can I move now," Chuck whispered loudly to her from outside the door.

She turned toward him. He was still frozen in place. "Sorry. Yeah, you can move."

Chuck let out a breath and his shoulders slumped. "Oh, thank god," he groaned. He stepped to the couch setting down Sarah's bags. He turned and headed toward the kitchenette. "You want a beer?"

"No, thanks. I'm on duty."

"Oh. Duh. My bad." Chuck opened the refrigerator. "I've got some sparkling water."

"That sounds good. Thanks."

Chuck opened a tall, blue bottle of water and pulled out a long neck beer for himself. He walked over to Sarah standing by the couch and handed her the water.

"Make yourself comfortable," Chuck said as he sank down on one side of the couch. Sarah sat on the other side. "Welcome to my real home." He lifted his bottle - an obvious olive branch - and they clinked necks.

"It's nice," Sarah said, trying to repair some of the damage from her earlier her outburst.

She felt guilty about losing it with Chuck. She was tired and had let her guard down. As a result, her old and unwelcomed companion — fear — had raised its ugly head. Fear that she wouldn't be smart enough or quick enough. Fear that had taken root years ago. Fear that had made her quit the Secret Service.

Chuck scoffed. "Now you're just being polite."

"No. Really," Sarah said. "It's warm and cozy and interesting. It suits you."

Chuck raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying you find me warm and cozy and interesting, Detective?"

Sarah's mind went blank for second. She didn't know how to respond. She knew Chuck was joking around but she felt her cheeks flush.

Chuck's eyes went wide and he bolted upright. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

After a few moments Sarah regained her composure and regarded Chuck. He actually felt guilty that he'd caused her a moment of discomfort. Most men wouldn't have even noticed, much less been concerned. It seemed that at every turn he surprised her.

Well, as a female in a male dominated profession she'd had to grow a pretty thick skin. He'd figure it out after a while.

Except … he wouldn't.

There wouldn't be a while for Chuck to figure Sarah Walker out. They would never have the chance to get to know each other better. Tomorrow this assignment would be over for her. In the morning she'd call Casey, explain to him why she couldn't keep Chuck safe and convince him to assign someone else as Chuck's bodyguard. Chuck would go his way and she'd go hers. Their worlds didn't intersect so there'd be no random reconnections at the coffee shop or the grocery store.

He'd be gone.

And Sarah wasn't sure how she felt about that.

She forced a smile. "Don't worry about it."

Chapter Text

Chuck ordered pizza for dinner.  Half pepperoni and mushroom for him and half vegetarian for her.  The delivery guy had been shaking by the time Sarah had finished interrogating him before she’d accept the pizza.  Any guilt she might have had disappeared after she saw how much Chuck tipped the kid for his troubles.

As they ate Chuck showed Sarah his security system. It was state-of-the-art, complete with infrared video surveillance monitors and motion sensors throughout the property, house and garage - a nerd’s dream.  As Sarah reviewed the camera feeds she got a good feel for the inside of Chuck’s house.  As he’d said, it was huge with everything in pristine order, nothing was out of place.  It was clear that nobody really lived there. 

The system was so impressive Sarah finally felt like she could relax a little.  As the tension flowed out of her neck and shoulders she was surprised at just how wound-up she’d been.  And she was more tired than she wanted to admit.  With Chuck’s security setup she might feel safe enough to catch some sleep tonight.

After they ate Chuck grabbed another water for Sarah and a beer for himself.  He collapsed back into the couch, burrowing in to get comfortable.  He’d taken his suit jacket off, rolled up his sleeves, loosened his tie and popped open the collar button of his white dress shirt. 

There was no question Chuck was a good-looking guy.  But stretched out on the couch like this he exuded a relaxed and compelling masculinity and Sarah found her eyes lingering on him.  She let them linger.     

Now that they were safe behind locked doors Sarah felt herself unwind just a little more.  As a result, her curiosity rose to the surface.  She was curious about this complicated man who was not what he seemed, and yet, was an open book. 

Sarah stepped over to the wall of shelves.  His reading collection was eclectic. There were thick computer science and mathematics books, tons of mysteries and thrillers, even several multi-book fantasy and paranormal series. And, of course, his science fiction collection was huge.  With her back facing Chuck, Sarah allowed herself a small smile.  She’d been right about the science fiction stuff.

Sarah picked up a picture of a teenaged Chuck with a beautiful, young brunette.  “Is this your sister?”

Chuck looked at the picture.  His smile grew and his face radiated an affection so strong it almost took Sarah’s breath away.

“Yeah,” he said.  “That’s Ellie.  She’s … she’s my rock.  I’d do anything for her.”

“You said she raised you.”

“She did.  Our parents left us when we were young.  First my mom when I was in grade school, then my dad when I was in junior high.”  Chuck’s smile faded, the memories obviously still painful.  “When dad left she was eighteen.  She kept us together and out of foster homes.  If there is anything good about me, it’s because of Ellie.”

Sarah considered what she had learned about Chuck over the past day.  “I think she did a pretty good job,” Sarah said.

Chuck’s smile softened.  “That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in a while.”

For the first time today Sarah intentionally smiled back at Chuck.  Since she’d be gone tomorrow, she felt she could give herself that little indulgence without it posing a risk to his safety.  He deserved it and it felt good to smile at Chuck Bartowski.  And when she did and his eyes lit-up, Sarah understood exactly why he had kind eyes.  There wasn’t an unkind bone in his body.

Sarah turned and put the picture back on the shelf, continuing to scan the other photographs.  Another photo of an adult Chuck with a different, but equally beautiful brunette, caught Sarah’s eye.  She picked it up and studied it.  In the back of her mind a small voice wondered why she was so interested in the women in Chuck’s life, but it faded as quickly as it had come.

“Who’s this?” Sarah asked, turning to show Chuck the photo.

Chuck paled.  His smile disappeared.  The sadness that filled his eyes was every bit as deep and powerful as the love he’d shown for his sister a moment before.  A jolt went through Sarah.  She could almost feel his pain. 

“Hey … forget it,” she said.  “None of my business.” 

“No.  It’s okay.”  Chuck paused for a moment, then said, “That’s Jill.  She was my girlfriend in graduate school - and then my fiancé - until she broke up with me.”  He swallowed hard. “She … ahh … started dating a friend of mine.”

“I’m sorry,” was all that Sarah could think of to say.  She looked at the woman in the photo as she put it back on the shelf.  This Jill person had really screwed up.  She’d had this man’s heart and then thrown it away.  Just today Sarah had seen a dozen women who would have gladly taken Jill’s place if they could have. 

A photo of the Eiffel Tower caught Sarah’s eye.  It was the only photo without people in it. She picked it up.  “You’ve been to France?” Sarah asked.

“No,” Chuck said.

“But you have photo of the Eiffel Tower?”

“Yeah.  It’s sort of a passion of mine.  I know everything about it.  Someday I want to visit it.”

“Why haven’t you?” Sarah said.  “It’s not like you can’t afford the plane ticket.”

Chuck looked to the side, as if conjuring a memory.  “I was going to,” he said.  “Jill and I - we’d planned to honeymoon in Paris.  But that … didn’t work out.”

“Well, it is beautiful there,” Sarah said.

“You’ve been to Paris?”

“A couple of times.  I was working for the Secret Service, so I didn’t get a chance to sightsee.  But what I did see was incredible.  I’m sure you’d love it.”

“I know.  But Paris is supposed to be the most romantic place on earth.  That’s why we wanted to honeymoon there.  Going there by myself … sort of defeats the purpose.” 

“Still, you should go.”

I will … someday.  When I find the right girl.”

Sarah looked back at Chuck and it was obvious his mood had turned somber. 

“I’m beat,” he said.  “I’m gonna get a shower, then crash.  You’re welcome to do the same.  I’ll take the couch, you can have the bed.  The sheets are fresh.”

“I can’t impose like that,” Sarah said.  “The couch will be just fine.”

“Actually,” Chuck said,” since the accident I can’t sleep lying flat, so the couch is actually more comfortable.”

Sarah tilted her head in a questioning look.

“I got a little banged up,” Chuck said.  It’s just more comfortable to sit in the couch to sleep.”

“Whatever works,” Sarah said.

Chuck went into the bathroom and a few minutes later Sarah heard the shower running. 

As she continued to peruse Chuck’s shelves Sarah realized she’d unearthed a treasure trove of information about his entire life.  Not only had she discovered his tastes in literature, she could see what types of movies he liked, the music he enjoyed, the important moments in his life.  Accompanying a ton of science fiction movies were a couple dozen romantic comedies.  Sitting next to the expected indie rock CD’s was a large collection of movie musical soundtracks. 

There was no doubt Chuck was a nerd.  But he was also much more.  He was a man who felt deeply, loved unconditionally and was fiercely loyal.  He was completely different from all of the men Sarah had known in her life.  She felt a flicker of sadness that she wouldn’t get to know what it would be like to be his friend.       

In the background Sarah heard the shower stop and she glanced toward the bathroom.  The door was cracked open an inch or two and steam roiled out.  Slowly the door creeped open wider and Sarah saw Chuck, a towel wrapped low around hips, bent forward scrubbing his hair dry with another towel. With his head down and engulfed in the towel he hadn’t noticed that the door had opened all the way.  Sarah felt her cheeks flush at her hesitation to turn away.  When Chuck stood up his eyes found hers and bulged wide. 

Sarah took in his bare chest — and shock rocked her back a step.  Chuck’s left shoulder, chest and abdomen were a continuous purple and black bruise.  Her stomach clenched.  She’d been hurt like that before.  She knew what the pain was like.  And Chuck had been going to work the last couple of days — not only with a concussion — but with that.  How was he still standing?  Why the hell wasn’t he in a hospital?

Her self-conscious embarrassment evaporated.  Sarah rushed forward, anxiety and concern vibrating through her.  She was moving so fast that Chuck took a step back.  She jerked to a halt, an arm’s width from him.  She stared at the swollen mass of black and blue tissue.  Instinctually she reached toward him and Chuck flinched.  She willed her hand to stop.

“Oh my god,” Sarah whispered as her hand covered her mouth. 

An image, clear and vivid, flashed in her mind.  A broken and bloody body crumpled in the street outside a Beirut hotel.  The painful grip of hands locked around her arms, dragging her away as she desperately struggled to get to him.  Her throat burning with her screams. 

Nausea surged and she fought it down.  She shook her head, pushing the vision away.    

Sarah forced her gaze from Chuck’s body to his face.  His expression was neutral but his eyes swirled with some emotion she couldn’t decipher.  He stood still, not backing away.

Sarah remembered the times throughout the day when she had grabbed Chuck, pushed him around, supported his weight, slammed him into her car.  Guilt ripped through her as she realized the amount of pain she had unknowingly inflicted on the him.  She was supposed to keep him safe, not hurt him.   

“I didn’t know,” she whispered.  “I’m … sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Chuck said, softly.

“No, it’s not. It’s my job to protect you.  You shouldn’t need protection from me.”

Chuck’s face grew serious.  “I trust you, Sarah.  I want you to know that.” 

Sarah dropped her head to her chest and let out a long, tired breath, fatigue weighing her down.    

Strong hands gripped her shoulders and Chuck dipped his head to catch her eyes. “I know I look like road rash from hell, but I’m fine.”

Sarah looked up at him through her lashes and couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped her mouth. “More like bad special effects from a Rocky movie,” she countered.

“I was thinking more Zombie-ish,” Chuck said. 

“Zombie-ish?  Hmmm.  Yeah, Zombie-ish works,” Sarah said, feeling just a little bit better.

She lifted her head and Chuck grinned.  It was the kind of smile that made you want to smile back, so she did.

A high pitched electronic screech split the air.

Chuck’s head snapped toward the security monitors across the room.  “Motion sensors,” he said.  “Someone’s here.”

“Get dressed,” Sarah said as she ran to the computer desk and slid into a chair.  Chuck went to his dresser, checked to make sure Sarah was looking at the computer monitors, then dropped his towel and grabbed clothes from his dresser, pulling them on.

In just a few seconds Chuck was leaning over Sarah’s shoulder, staring that the video camera feeds. Even though it was dark outside the infrared cameras provided clear images rendered in shades of gray, silver and green.  He made out four figures that had crossed the perimeter lasers and were moving up the lawn to the front of his house.  They were outfitted in tactical gear and carried assault rifles.

“What the fuck?” Sarah breathed.  “Four guys?  To kill you?”  She glanced over her shoulder at Chuck.  “No offense."

“None taken,” Chuck said.  Suddenly he felt foolish for complaining to Beckman about getting a bodyguard.  His hands grew clammy as he gripped the back of Sarah’s chair.

“Shit,” Sarah hissed.

“What?"

“They’re bypassing the house and heading straight to the back.”

Chuck watched as the four figures split into two groups, one group gliding down each side of the house.

“They know we’re not in the house,” Sarah said.  She shot up from the chair and whipped around toward Chuck.  “Do you remember the only thing you need to do?”

“Follow your instructions, exactly.”

Sarah nodded.  “We’ve got about ninety seconds until they breech.”

Chuck gulped hard.

“Shoes,” Sarah barked.  “Put on shoes and listen to me.”

Chuck grabbed a pair of Converse canvas tennis shoes and started to lace them up while Sarah rattled off instructions.

“Do you have any weapons?  Anything at all?” she asked.

“No.”

“Dammit,” Sarah said.  She took a quick breath, held it while she thought, then blew it out.  “These guys are obviously professionals.  Here’s what’s going to happen.  They’ll have to come through the door, it’s the only way in or out. They’ll use a flash-bang first.  Do you know what a flash-bang is?”

“Yes.”

“When I tell you to duck and cover, drop to the floor, close your eyes, cover your ears with your hands as hard as you can and push your face into the carpet.  Count to five before you open your eyes and ears.”

“Got it,” Chuck said.  “What then?”

“No one should know I’m here,” Sarah said.  “They won’t be expecting me and they won’t expect you to be functional after the flash-bang.  I’ll pick them off as they come through the door.  It’s a bottle-neck, they’ll have to come in one at a time.  When we see an opening, we run for it.”

“Should I turn off the lights?”

“No,” Sarah said.  “There’s not enough time for our vision to adapt.” She glanced at the camera feeds tracking the men’s progress.  “At lease they don’t have night vision goggles.”

Sarah grabbed one end of the couch, pivoting it so it faced the door.  Chuck jumped in and helped her pull the couch back toward the same wall his bed was on. Then they tipped the coffee table on its side and pulled it in front of the couch.

“Okay.  What else should I do?” Chuck asked.

“Stay behind the sofa,” Sarah said.

“But I can help,” Chuck said.  He wasn’t going to let her fight off four bad guys by herself.

“Not your job, Chuck.  It’s mine.”

“Sarah …,” Chuck complained. 

The muffled sound of heavy boots climbing the outside stairs came through the door.

Sarah grabbed Chuck’s hand and squeezed it hard, looking into his eyes.  “You said you trusted me, Chuck.”

“I do.”

“Then stay behind the sofa.”

Chuck hesitated a moment, then gave a short nod.

“Thank you,” Sarah said, then pulled him with her down behind the couch.  She had her Glock in one hand, still gripping his hand with the other.  He could feel the cold sweat running down his back.  The air seemed too thick to breathe. 

The sound of boots reached the landing and grew quiet.  Sarah let go of Chuck’s hand and laid her pistol in front of her.  She raised her hands to her ears, preparing to protect them from the blast of the grenade.  Chuck did the same. 

“Ready?” she whispered.

He nodded.

There was a crash and the door flew open.

“Now!” Sarah shouted.

Chuck, squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face into the carpet, clamping his hands over his ears.  Even protecting himself as he did, the noise and flash of the grenade was almost overwhelming.  He counted to five.  Then he opened his eyes and watched from the floor behind the couch as all hell broke loose.

Sarah was already on her knees, her head up over the back of the couch, her pistol trained on the door.  The gun boomed twice, the noise deafening.

“One down,” she shouted.

In the next second she swiveled to the right as she tracked another target Chuck couldn’t see.  The pistol exploded again.  Three shots this time.

“Two down,” Sarah yelled.

A male voice shouted from the direction of the door.  “Gun, gun, gun!”

Sarah threw herself down behind the couch as the rapid, high pitched crack of semi-automatic rifle fire filled the air.  Chuck could hear the bullets smashing into the coffee table and whizzing overhead like angry yellow jackets.  He fought his panic and struggled to breathe. 

The rifle fire stopped.  Sarah took half a second to poke her head up over the couch.  She dropped back down.  “The last two are still outside,” she said, breathing hard.  “They’re regrouping, but they won’t sit still for long.   When they come, they’ll come together.  One will go left, the other right.  They’ll try to flank us.  Catch us in a cross-fire.”

“What can we do?” Chuck said, a tremor in is voice.

“I’m gonna make a break for the bathroom,” she said, pointing down the clear line of sight they had to the bathroom door.  “I’m the threat.  They’re in combat mode so they’ll be completely focused on me and won’t notice you.  When they move toward me and away from the door you run like hell,” she said, her eyes boring into his.  “Get out.  Find a cop.  Contact Captain John Casey.”

“No, Sarah, there’s got to be another way.”

“Chuck, just do what I say.”

“But-”

“Just do it, Chuck!”

Chuck stared at her.  She wasn’t going to back down and he couldn’t fight like her.  She was his only chance to survive.  He nodded, a sick feeling tightening his chest.

“Get ready.” Sarah said. 

Sarah took another quick look over the top of the couch, then dropped down into a crouch.  She exploded like a sprinter out of a starting block, rocketing toward the bathroom. 

Shouts came from the loft door.  An assault rifle barked.  Sarah hit the queen bed, rolled across it in one rotation, landed on her feet and continued her sprint.  Chuck saw her train her pistol toward an attacker he couldn’t see from his position.  Her pistol boomed again.  At the same time he heard the crack of an assault rifle.  Sarah staggered, then collapsed to her knees.  She dropped her pistol and clutched at her chest with both hands.

Chuck’s vision narrowed. Time slowed to a crawl.  As he rose from behind the couch and ran toward Sarah he took in the scene.  Three men were on the ground, motionless, one right where Sarah had just fired her pistol.  The fourth man was entering through the loft door, raising his rifle and moving toward Sarah like a slow motion video. 

Chuck’s gaze flicked back and forth between Sarah and the bad guy.  His long legs seemed to stretch out endlessly before him as he tried to cover the distance to Sarah so he could do something … anything.  But he couldn’t break through the molasses that dragged him and everything else down to a snail’s pace.  

The man leveled his rifle at Sarah and Chuck could see his finger tightening on the trigger.  With one last effort Chuck lunged off the ground and flung himself between Sarah and the shooter.

Time crashed back into place as Chuck flew through the air.  The shooter’s rifle cracked and an excruciating pin-point of agony exploded in Chuck’s chest, as if someone had pounded a foot-long spike into him with a sledge hammer.  He gasped in pain and dropped to the floor.

Chuck’s momentum rolled him to his back and he looked up at the shooter leveling the rifle at his chest.  He knew he was going to die.  Sarah was already dying or dead.  She shouldn’t have had to sacrifice herself - not for him.  He hadn’t been able to save her.  And now he was next.

A guttural wale of rage pierced the air. 

A blond Valkyrie warrior burst past Chuck striding toward the shooter, her Glock in a two-hand grip spitting death as round after round hit the bad guy in the chest making his body jerk backwards.  Sarah kept firing until her gun was empty and locked open.  Her battle cry never wavered until she had reached the dying man and grabbed his tactical vest before he could fall.  He gasped and drops of blood sprayed from his mouth, splattering on Sarah’s camisole and blazer.

“Never again,” Sarah snarled at the man.  “Never.  Again.”

She held him for a moment longer, then let go.  The man dropped to the ground at Sarah’s feet, dead.

Chapter Text

Sarah's chest heaved, her lungs fighting for air. Sweat ran down her forehead as she stood over the dead shooter, blood pooling on the carpet underneath him. He'd been going to hurt Chuck, to take him away. Never again.

As her awareness returned she remembered Chuck had been hit. Fear crashed into her. Sarah pivoted and rushed to Chuck lying on the floor. His face was a mass of confusion as he pawed at his chest. His breaths came in jagged bursts.

Sarah dropped to her knees. "Chuck." He didn't respond, still consumed by panic. She reached out and grabbed his hands. "Chuck!"

Chuck looked at her hands holding his, then looked up at Sarah. The panic in his eyes exploded as he saw the blood on her shirt. "Sarah! You're bleeding. Oh my god, you've been shot!" He struggled to break her grip and reach out to her, but she held tight.

"Chuck, look at me." She tightened her grip and shook his hands hard. "Look at me."

Chuck raised frantic eyes to hers.

"It's not my blood," she said quickly. "I'm okay. Do you understand? I'm okay."

Chuck nodded uncertainly. "But I saw you get shot." Then he looked down at the hole in the front of his t-shirt. "I got shot. Except … I didn't. Geeze, this hurts like a bitch, but I'm not bleeding." He looked back up at Sarah. "What the hell's going on?"

"Later," Sarah said. "We have to get out of here. Now!"

As she pulled him to his feet Chuck let out a painful moan. Sarah felt like her own chest had been hit by a wrecking ball. She guessed she had at least one cracked rib.

"We've got thirty seconds. Get what you need. We've gotta go in case these guys have backup."

Chuck went to his dresser and grabbed his wallet and phone.

Sarah went to her backpack, ripped it open and pulled out two fresh magazines. One went into her pistol while the other went into her blazer pocket. She checked her other pocket to make sure her phone and wallet with her credentials were still there. She left both the backpack and duffle on the floor.

Chuck came up beside Sarah, a jacket thrown over one shoulder. "I'm ready," he said.

"Stay behind me," Sarah said. She turned toward the door and a jolt of fire shot through her side. She let out a bark of pain. "Fuck!"

Chuck reached out and cradled her arm. "You're hurt," he said.

Sarah grimaced at him. "Look who's talking."

That earned her a pathetic grin. After what they'd just been through, she'd take it.

They snuck around the outside of the house but met no resistance. When Sarah had cleared the area in front of the house and on the street, they rushed to her Porsche. She pulled the car quietly into the street moving quickly away from Chuck's house, on the lookout for more attackers.

Two houses down Sarah's eyes locked on an empty silver SUV parked against the curb. There were no other cars parked like that in this upscale neighborhood. Everyone had their own driveway or garage. She had no doubt it was the same SUV that had followed her when she'd left Engram Engineering and it had probably brought their four attackers here.

You really screwed up this time, Walker.

As she thought about the SUV, something didn't make sense. How had the SUV known that Chuck was in her car? Aside from her captain there were only a handful of people who knew Chuck had a bodyguard. Every one of those had a huge financial motivation for him to stay alive. And she'd checked the parking garage when they were leaving. No one had seen them get into her car, she was sure of it. She felt her lips pursing as she grew angrier with herself.

"Thank you for saving my life," Chuck said, pulling her from her thoughts. "You were…," his words trailed off. "I've never seen …," he stopped again. He took in breath and said, "You're amazing and terrifying, all at the same time."

"I guess I'll take that as a compliment," she said.

Chuck frowned. "What happened back there? Why aren't we dead?"

Sarah glanced at him. "Rubber bullets," she replied.

"What?"

"Rubber bullets. Riot police use them for crowd control. Technically, they're non-lethal."

"Technically?" Chuck said, his voice a squeak.

"They're intended for use at a distance," Sarah said. "But in close quarters like your loft they can do some serious damage. Break bones, injure organs. A head shot would probably kill you."

"Four guys come to kill me and they bring rubber bullets? What the hell's that about? Budget cuts?"

Sarah let out a snort at Chuck's attempt to deal with the stress. She hadn't seen it early in the day, but now she knew the nerd had a wicked sense of humor. One surprise after another.

Sarah upshifted the Porsche, accelerating along the street.

"I don't think they were trying to kill you," she said.

"Okay, now I'm really confused."

"There were four attackers, not just one assassin," she explained. "They were tactically trained and good at it. And they were using non-lethal ammunition. They were acting more like an extraction team than a hit squad."

"You think they were trying to kidnap me?" Chuck asked.

"That's what it looks like," Sarah replied.

"You could have fooled me. I thought we were dead meat." Chuck visibly shivered in his seat. "When you got shot," he paused, swallowing hard, "I freaked out. And when that guy was closing in to finish you off …,"

The scene of Chuck throwing himself in front of the shooter's rifle flashed in her mind and his idiotic maneuver fueled the anger already simmering inside her.

"That was the dumbest thing I've ever seen," Sarah said, her voice hard. "I told you to stay behind the couch. Instead you do the exact opposite, you jump in front of a bullet." Her frustration was almost palpable now.

"But it wasn't a real bullet," Chuck said.

"You didn't know that," Sarah snapped. "You're not bullet-proof, Chuck."

"I couldn't let you die like that," he said.

"That's not your choice," Sarah said, her knuckles tightening on the steering wheel in frustration.

The tension crackled in the silence between them. Sarah glanced at Chuck and saw him staring at her with an emotion she hadn't seen before etched clearly on his face. He was mad.

"You're wrong," Chuck ground out. "It's no one else's choice but mine."

A chill cut through her. Sarah turned her eyes back to the road as emotions warred inside. Astonishment that he had thrown himself between her and a bullet. Anger that she had let the situation progress to where Chuck was actively acting against her and putting himself in danger. And fear that if this didn't change immediately, he'd be dead.

Sarah had planned to call her boss as soon as she felt they were far enough away from Chuck's house. She needed to notify Casey about what had happened and have him send a team to bring them both in. As soon as they got picked-up she'd be able to stand-down. Chuck would be surrounded by cops and Casey would stash him away somewhere. Chuck would safe then, from his attackers, from himself, and from her.

Sarah needed time to think and to call her captain. She was rattled enough that she didn't trust herself to do those tasks while driving. And the self-loathing for not seeing the attack coming wasn't helping her nerves.

"We need a public parking lot," she said. "Large. Lots of cars."

"Why?" Chuck asked.

"I need some time to figure out our next move. And I need to contact my boss. Public place with people is safest."

"That's a tough one at 11 pm," Chuck said.

Her self-control cracked for an instant and her frustration leaked through as she smacked her fist against the steering wheel. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit."

She glanced at Chuck. He had his concerned face on.

"Sorry," she said.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "I was gonna say shit too, you just beat me too it. I mean, this is truly a shit-worthy situation."

Chuck's deadpan delivery caught her off-guard and she let out a laugh.

Sarah marveled at him for an instant. He was bruised and beaten, people were trying to kill him, and yet, here he was trying to make her feel better. And it worked.

He was a special guy. When he found his right girl she'd better realize what she had and treat him right. Because if she didn't, Sarah would come and personally adjust her attitude — and pain would be involved.

"Wait a tic," Chuck said, sitting up. "I know the perfect place."

Five minutes later, following Chuck's directions, Sarah pulled into the University of Washington's Husky Union Building parking lot. Even at this hour the lot was half full and people were coming and going from the huge brownstone building.

"I need to unfold my legs," Chuck said. "Great car, but leg room sucks."

Sarah nodded and they both got out. Chuck walked to the rear of the car and started doing some stretches.

Sarah pulled out her phone and dialed her captain. Casey picked up on the third ring.

"Walker," he said.

"Yes, sir."

"It's eleven at night. You're cutting into my beauty sleep," he growled.

Sarah hesitated, not sure where to start.

After the silence went to long, Casey let out an audible sigh and said, "I'm guessing things are FUBAR?"

"That would be a good guess, sir."

"Christ, Walker. How did you screw up a milk-run like this?"

"Just lucky, sir."

"Sit-rep. Is Bartowski alive?"

"He's alive, sir. We were attacked by a four-man assault team at his residence. You need to send forensics and clean-up teams."

"You kill 'em?"

"Yes, sir."

"All of 'em?"

"Roger that, sir."

Casey grunted. "Good job, Walker."

"You need to bring him in, sir. Chuck needs to go under."

Casey went silent and Sarah cursed herself for using Chuck's first name.

"Something you need to tell me, Walker?"

"It can wait, sir."

After another pause, Casey continued. "Where are you?"

"U-dub student union parking lot."

"You secure?"

"So far."

"Stay put. I'll have a team there in twenty."

"Copy that."

"Walker …"

"Yes sir?"

"Cover your own ass. The nerd isn't worth it."

Casey's words unnerved her and Sarah paused for an instant, finally replying, "Understood, sir."

Casey ended the call.

Sarah blew out a long breath. She turned back to her car where Chuck stood, towering over its roof. She kept forgetting how tall he was.

"So, what's the story?" he said.

"A team will be here in twenty minutes. They'll take you into protective custody. You'll be safe with them."

"Will you be coming?"

Sarah saw the anxiety in Chuck's eyes and her chest tightened.

"No. They'll take you to a safe place tonight and tomorrow my boss and your boss will figure out what to do next."

"What do you mean, next?"

"There's no doubt now that there's an active threat against you. Your security needs to increase to full protective custody."

"And that means …?"

"You'll be housed in a secure location," Sarah explained, "until another option is determined, or the threat is neutralized."

Chuck's expression darkened and he looked at the ground. Sarah could feel his frustration. She wished she could make him feel better, but there was nothing she could do.

"I'm guessing they'll keep a tight lid on you until the DOD project is finished," she continued. "Then they'll reassess to determine next steps."

Chuck lifted his forlorn eyes to hers. "It's like I've suddenly had my life ripped right out from under me."

Sarah felt a pang of sadness for Chuck but said nothing.

They stood in silence for a long time, Chuck leaning against his side of the car, Sarah against hers.

Casey's team would arrive soon. Then she could stand down. Then she could hand Chuck off to another team. Then she could be sure he was safe.

Chapter Text

Leaning against Sarah's car Chuck stared blankly at the reflection of the overhead floodlight in the windshield. His mind raced. Someone was really trying to kill him. Or kidnap him. Maybe both.

Sarah had just taken out four men, risking her life to save his. She was smart and fast and deadly, and he had no doubt that there was no one on the planet better able to keep him alive than Sarah Walker. And now she was going to hand him off to someone else. Someone he didn't know. Someone he didn't trust. That scared him.

Chuck decided he needed to tell Sarah he didn't want someone else to take her place. If things were going to change, if more people were going to get involved or if he was going to get stuck in an underground bunker somewhere, he wanted her in charge. He trusted her.

"Sarah-" he began, but the sound of car engines made him stop.

Sarah pointed to the parking lot exit thirty yards away, blocked by a large black panel van. Another van pulled up and blocked the only other exit at the other end of the lot. One man jumped out of each van and started walking toward them. Both wore black khakis and black windbreakers. Their hair was buzz-cut short. They had no visible weapons, but their windbreakers were large enough to hide a small arsenal.

"Probably not your guys," Chuck said, forcing down the panic rising inside him.

"No shit," Sarah said. We gotta go." She started running toward the building's main entrance.

Chuck was already on the move and his long legs ate up the distance. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw that the two men had also started running.

Although it was almost eleven at night the building was still open and students trickled in and out of the front doors. Sarah and Chuck ran up the stairs and through the large double doors. They bolted through the lobby and climbed a set of stairs to a mezzanine overlooking the main floor. As they raced across the mezzanine their pursuers burst through the doors into the lobby.

One of the men looked up, saw Chuck and Sarah and pointed. "Up there," he barked.

He gestured for his partner to take the steps at the far end of the lobby that lead to the other end of the mezzanine — the direction that Chuck and Sarah were running. He barreled up the stairs that Chuck and Sarah had climbed, shoving students out of his way. Chuck realized the bad guys were trying to cut them off and box them in from both ends. If they didn't do something fast they'd be trapped.

They couldn't go forward or back - both stairways were blocked. They couldn't go left because there was nothing there other than the balcony railing and a thirty foot drop to lobby. The only option was right, into a long hallway with doors lining each side. Chuck felt Sarah's hand grab his and she took off down the hallway with Chuck in tow.

Their feet thudded hard along the carpeted floor. They finally reached the end where it branched into a T with more long hallways leaded to their left and right. Sarah pulled-up short and Chuck crashed into her, slamming her against the wall. His chest throbbed with the impact and he heard Sarah let out a grunt of pain.

The sharp, loud crack of a suppressed gun split the air. A fine white powder rained down into Chuck's face. He looked up and saw two holes in the wall just a few inches from his head. The white power was sheetrock dust. The holes were bullet holes.

At the other end of the hallway both men were charging forward, the one in the lead brandishing a pistol.

"Run," Sarah shouted as she grabbed his hand again and pulled him along the hall to their left. With each step agonizing pain shot through Chuck's abdomen. His stomach churned and he fought down the nausea. He could hear Sarah's labored breathing and saw her favoring her right side as they ran.

There was no way they would escape their attackers with their bodies racked with pain. Even if they reached the emergency stairwell at the end of the hall, they'd never be able to outrun the two men. The shooters would be rounding the corner of the hallway in just a second and have another clean line of fire. This chase would end soon — and badly — if they didn't do something.

Chuck glanced at the room doors as they ran. They were familiar. He knew this area. They were conference rooms and he'd attended many a meeting and seminar in these rooms while in graduate school. An idea came to him. It was a long-shot, but right now it was all he could come up with.

Tugging on Sarah's hand Chuck started to slow down. "Sarah, wait."

Sarah looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes wild. "Chuck, run!" she urged as she tried to pull him forward.

They only had seconds. There was no time for him to explain his plan.

"Sarah, trust me," he said.

Her eyes grew more frantic. "What?" she said, her voice almost crazed.

Chuck pulled Sarah to a stop, clamping his fingers around her hand as she tried to pull free. He looked down the hallway, watching and waiting for the shooters to come around the corner.

"Chuck!" Sarah screamed.

Chuck braced himself. Just another second. He needed to shooters to see what he was going to do.

The first shooter came into view. Chuck grabbed the door handle next to him, threw it open and flung them both into a large classroom. He slammed the door closed.

Chuck pulled Sarah behind him as he ran along the wall that separated the room from the hallway, in the direction they had just come. When he reached the far wall he pushed on the edge, revealing a large accordion type wall divider that separated their room from the next. He moved it just enough for them to slip through, then pushed it closed. They ran to the far wall of that room, opening a gap in another room divider which allowed them to run into a third room. He closed that divider and continued to the far end of the room, through another divider and through a fourth room. If all of the dividers had been retracted, they would have been in one long, huge conference room. When the dividers were in use, four separate rooms were created, each with a separate door into the hallway.

They had backtracked almost the entire length of the hallway and Chuck knew this was their only possibility for escape.

Chuck stopped in front of the room's door leading into the hallway. He was still breathing hard but he forced his breaths to slow and quiet. He put his finger to his lips, signaling Sarah for silence. She nodded, attempting to control breathing as well. The pistol in her hand didn't go unnoticed.

Chuck put his ear to the door and heard the labored breathing of both gunmen, also winded from the chase. They were moving slowly down the hallway toward the door he and Sarah had entered. Now that they were out of sight their pursuers had turned cautious, not wanting to get shot.

A half minute passed. Then Chuck heard a door open and a quick shuffle of feet. Sliding the door open as quietly as possible Chuck looked down the hallway and watched as the second gunman disappeared through the door into the conference room he and Sarah had entered.

"What the fuck? Where'd they go?" one of the men shouted in frustration.

Grabbing Sarah's free hand Chuck pulled her out of the room. They moved quickly and silently to the intersection and turned down the hallway, retracing the way they'd come.

They reached the mezzanine and ran down a stairway to the lobby. Chuck started toward the main entrance but Sarah pulled him to a stop.

"No," Sarah said. "They may have people outside or by my car." She frantically looked around. "We need a different way out of here. Then we need to find another car."

"I might be able to help with both of those," Chuck said.

He led them through the building, down a floor, through a huge kitchen area and out through a door onto a large loading dock. Five minutes later they had run through a library, descended a stairway and come out into an underground parking garage.

Chuck leaned up against a concrete pillar, his entire body aching. He still felt sick to his stomach and fought to keep from retching.

"There," Sarah said, pointing to an older Honda four-door sedan. With the muzzle of her pistol she smashed the rear passenger's window on the driver's side, climbed in, reached over the seat to the driver's front door and popped open the electric locks. She slid into the driver's seat while Chuck dropped into the passenger's side. From someplace on her body Sarah produced a tactical knife. She worked on the ignition housing and a handful of seconds later she'd hot-wired the car. After another minute they were on the street, heading away from the campus.

Chuck looked out his side window at the buildings passing by. "Those weren't rubber bullets, were they?"

"No," Sarah said.

"Seems like they wanted me dead this time."

"Seems like."

"I wonder what changed their mind?"

Sarah glanced at Chuck. "Good question."

Chuck sat for a moment, his thoughts spinning, trying not to freak out. Then he realized hadn't asked the most important question of all.

He turned to Sarah. "How did they find us?"

Sarah had already considered that same question and it sent a chill through her. She stared out the windshield and didn't answer.

How had the assassins found them? That question whirled in Sarah's mind. Going to the student union building parking lot had been a random decision, completely unpredictable.

Sarah refused to think her captain had betrayed her, that for some reason he had sent the two assassins or had informed someone about her and Chuck's location. She knew he'd follow protocol and would only identify Sarah to his extraction team leader. No one on the team would know who the second person to be extracted was until they got there.

And she'd stake her life that they hadn't been followed. The problem was, it wasn't only her life that she was risking.

But there was another viable option. They could have been tracked.

Her phone started to vibrate in her pocket. Sarah pulled it out and glanced at the caller ID. It was Casey.

She hesitated a moment, debating whether or not to take the call. She hit the decline button.

A moment later her phone beeped and a text from Casey flashed on the screen.

Where the hell are you?

Sarah pushed her phone at Chuck. "Here," she said.

"What's this for," he asked.

"Pull out your phone," she said.

"Why?"

"Just do it."

Chuck fished his phone out of a pocket.

"Throw them out the window," Sarah said.

At Chuck's hesitation, Sarah said, "If our phones are being tracked, we need to dump them."

Chuck nodded, rolled down his window and tossed the phones onto the street.

Most likely, any effort to track Chuck would have been to tap the GPS locator on his phone. And that would account for the SUV following them earlier and the shooters finding them in the university parking lot. But Sarah felt a little extra relief knowing that the long-shot of her car or phone being tracked was no longer a possibility.

She glanced at her watch. It was midnight. At that realization a wave of fatigue washed over her. She was injured, exhausted and needed to rest. And if she needed rest, Chuck was definitely running on empty.

"We need a place to lay low for the night and get some rest," Sarah said. "I need some time to think. And we need to check your injuries."

"And what about yours?" Chuck asked.

"I'm fine. A little sore, that's all. I've got about thirty bucks on me. How much cash do you have?"

"Fifty or sixty bucks," Chuck said.

"That's it?" Sarah said, surprised.

"Hey," Chuck protested, "if you hadn't scared the pizza delivery guy half to death I wouldn't have had to tip him a hundred bucks."

Sarah rolled her eyes. She'd known guys as flush as Chuck. She'd even dated a few. They always had a wad of cash on them. Not Chuck. Another surprise. This time, not a good one.

"Well, then — crappy motel it is," she said.

"Why?" Chuck asked. "We can get a decent place. I'll just put it on a credit-" he stopped before he finished. "Can't use a credit card. That's totally traceable."

Sarah allowed herself a small smile. "Now you're getting the hang of things."

"We can hit an ATM-" Chuck stopped mid-sentence again.

"Yep," Sarah said. "Same problem."

"Fine," Chuck said. "But let's make sure we get one of those rooms with the little coffee maker by the bathroom sink."

"First-class guy, all the way," Sarah said.

"Nothing too good for my bodyguard," Chuck grunted.

Sarah let her smile peek through again. But she was far from happy.

They were in a world of hurt and Sarah had no delusions that any help would be coming soon. She'd already tried her captain, and whether or not the men who had just tried to kill them were connected somehow with Casey, she couldn't risk contacting him again. If Casey wasn't dirty, then somehow his communication channels were tapped. She couldn't trust anyone at the SPD right now. Given the significance of the DOD project, it was likely that whoever was out to get Chuck had deep pockets with plenty of cash to bribe a couple of cops just barely making a living.

More likely, Sarah hoped, the source of the bad guys' information was from inside Engram Engineering. She didn't really know Beckman and although it was her company that stood to lose the most if Chuck was taken or killed, Sarah couldn't rule her out as the leak. At least, not yet.

But beyond Beckman, there were a dozen or so employees working on the project with a high enough clearance that they knew the project's exact nature. Anyone of them could have been turned. They knew Chuck well enough that they could be feeding information to the people trying to kill him. It would have been easy for a coworker to hack Chuck's phone with high powered tracking software provided by the bad guys. For that matter, someone could have figured out that Sarah wasn't really Chuck's personal assistant and tipped off whoever was trying to get to Chuck that he was protected.

That last thought stuck in her mind. If the bad guys had intended to kidnap Chuck instead of assassinating him, sending a four man team to his loft was serious overkill. Chuck wasn't a fighter. One person could have easily subdued and taken him. Two at the most. And they wouldn't have needed rubber bullets. But four well trained men, fully kitted-out, had come for him, with ammo that wouldn't kill, but would incapacitate. Why four men? If they'd somehow found out that Chuck had been assigned a bodyguard they would have come prepared to deal with someone other than Chuck while not accidentally killing him if things got dicey. They would have brought enough man-power to overcome his protection.

Shit. They knew I was there. They just didn't know what I could do.

But why had they come after Chuck again in the parking lot, this time shooting to kill? Had the plan to kidnap him been aborted when the body count in his loft clued them in that his guardian was no run-of-the-mill bodyguard.

Pinpricks of fear skittered down her spine. There were too many questions, too many unknowns. And definitely too many hitters on their trail. There was no one in the PD or Engram she could trust right now. She couldn't take Chuck in. Having him static in a safe house would make him a sitting duck if someone on the inside was the leak. She needed to take him underground and keep him safe until she could figure this out. They were out in the cold and they needed to run.

Chapter Text

Chuck surveyed the motel room as they entered. It was clean and tidy, but old. The walls were a burnt cream color, the paint chipped in some places. The carpet had a mottled orange and brown pattern, worn down in the main walkways. A vanity and sink were just inside the door. The separate bathroom was tiny and the white towels and wash cloths were thin.

They hadn't had enough cash for a room with two beds, so one double bed took up most of the floor space.

Chuck eased his aching body down on the edge of the bed. He didn't remember ever having hurt so much in his life. He started to peel off his coat but stopped and let out a gasp as his shoulder and side screamed in protest.

"Let's take a look," Sarah said as she stepped up to him.

Chuck stared at the blood splattered across her. He shuddered as the realization hit him once again of how close to death they'd come.

"I'm good," he said.

"No, you're not," Sarah said as she began to ease the jacket off his shoulders. Chuck noticed her own grimace of pain as she moved.

"It's okay, Sarah. It hurts, but that's nothing different from the past couple of days."

"What's the one and only thing you need to do?" She asked.

"You know, you can't just keep throwing that at me all the time," Chuck said.

"Yeah, I can," she said. "I'm the bodyguard. You're not." She smirked at him. "Now, humor me."

Chuck huffed out an annoyed breath. "Do what you say."

"Ah ... the abbreviated version. Still, it'll do. See, you can be taught, nerd boy."

"Oh, so now I'm a nerd boy?"

She quirked an eyebrow. "You mean, you're not?"

Chuck ducked his head and tried to hide a smile. "Touché."

At least I'm not just a 'package' anymore.

Chuck gritted his teeth through the pain as they both struggled to get his shirt off. He watched Sarah's face tighten with her own discomfort as she held her breath through the process.

Looking down he saw the half-dollar sized, blood-red bruise the rubber bullet had left over his right pectoral.

"At least the skin's not broken," Sarah said. "We need to ice it to reduce the swelling. There's an ice machine down the hall. I'll be right back." She grabbed a small plastic bucket off the vanity counter by the sink and left the room.

Chuck walked over to look at himself in the vanity's large mirror. He was a disaster. His body was beaten to hell. Dark circles pooled under his eyes and he looked as exhausted as he felt. But more than anything else it was the despair he saw in his own face that startled him. He wasn't sure how he — how they — were going to survive.

Sarah returned with the ice. She also produced two, ten tablet envelopes of ibuprofen. She ripped one package open and handed five tablets to Chuck. "Take these."

"Where'd you get them?"

"Vending machine down the hall," she replied, then swallowed her own five tablets with a glass of water.

She wrapped some ice in a hand towel and gave it to him. "Keep this on for twenty minutes."

They stood for a long time, silently watching each other in the mirror. Chuck wondered what would have happened if he'd stood his ground with Beckman and refused a bodyguard. At the thought he saw himself shiver.

"It's gonna be okay, Chuck," Sarah said quietly. "I'll keep you safe."

"How are we going to get out of this?"

"I don't know, yet. But I'll figure it out. I'm pretty good at my job," Sarah said, her reflection giving him a reassuring smile.

He knew she was. He'd seen what she could do, up front and personal. He'd never had to trust anyone with his life before. And in less than a couple of hours Sarah had saved him, twice.

Chuck watched Sarah in the mirror as she tried to remove her blazer. Her teeth gritted and she stopped, letting out a soft gasp of pain. He set the icepack down and turned to her.

"Your turn," he said, giving her a look that said he would accept no resistance. It worked because after a long pause, Sarah nodded.

He helped her slip out of her blazer. Sarah pulled the hem of her camisole up under her breasts, exposing her abdomen. Chuck sucked in a breath at the large black and blue bruise that covered the lower part of her right rib cage. It looked as angry as his own bruises.

"Sarah …," he hissed.

"Yeah," she acknowledged. "This is totally messed-up." She pushed gently at the bruise with an index finger, then grunted in pain.

"That's from a rubber bullet?" Chuck asked. "Why does it look so much worse than mine?"

"Yours hit the muscle. I think mine cracked a rib." She started to peel her camisole up over her breasts. "Help me take this off," she said, struggling to raise her arms and pull her top over her head.

Chuck froze as his eyes locked on her body. He had been right this morning. She was toned and fit, with a hint of a six-pack. Her skin was smooth and fair and her cream colored, lace bra cupped perfect breasts. Despite the direness of their situation, he couldn't help the spark of desire that flashed through him. But he tamped it down quickly.

Sarah must have noticed his momentary lapse. Her expression was neutral, her tone matter-of-fact. "You know, a bra's just like a bikini top. Actually, it covers more."

"Maybe," Chuck said, clearing his throat as he felt his cheeks flush. "I … ah … I just hadn't planned on seeing my bodyguard in a bikini anytime soon."

Sarah let out a laugh, then a groan of pain. "Ow. Fuck! Don't make me laugh."

"Sorry."

"Get on with it," Sarah said, tilting her head down toward her camisole.

Chuck swallowed, then gingerly helped Sarah shimmy the top up and pulled it over her head. She let out another grunt of pain as she lowered her arms.

Sarah reached behind her back and pulled her knife from a clip inside her waistband. She handed it to Chuck.

"This is a cotton and elastic fabric blend. We're going to make it into a compression bandage to stabilize my rib."

She instructed Chuck through an elaborate process of cutting up her top. The end result was a long, continuous piece of fabric about ten inches wide.

Chuck stood behind Sarah and wrapped the makeshift bandage around her torso. It was long and stretched enough to go around her three times. As his arms encircled her for each wrap he couldn't avoid the backs of his hands brushing against the underside her breasts. Desire flared again and this time it took a little longer to dampen.

When the wrap was snug they turned and looked at their handiwork in the mirror. Chuck noticed that the cloth pushed Sarah's breasts just a little higher, accentuating her cleavage. He realized he was staring again and jerked his gaze up from her chest to find Sarah watching him in the mirror.

Mortification hit him like a bull dozer. He caught a glimpse of his scarlet face in the mirror as he quickly looked away. He walked to the bed and grabbed his t-shirt. He brought it back and handed it to Sarah, averting his eyes.

"Here," he said. "You can hardly see the bullet hole, so this should work for the time being. After the stare-down the clerk gave your bloody jacket, you probably need to ditch that."

"You're right," Sarah said. "Thanks."

She tried to raise her arms to pull the shirt over her head but stopped in obvious pain. Chuck hesitated, then stepped up to Sarah, locking his eyes with hers to forbid them from wandering. He lifted the shirt up high, slipping it over her head and arms. His shirt was huge on her, dropping over Sarah like a tent and hanging below her knees.

Grabbing his ice pack, Chuck went and sat on the edge of the bed. Sarah sat next to the bed in the small room's single chair.

Chuck looked at the floor. "I'm sorry," he said.

"About what?" Sarah asked.

"About … you know … staring." Chuck rubbed at his knee with his free hand. "I don't want you to think I'm a creep."

"Why, because you copped a peek?"

"Yeah."

"I don't."

"Good."

A moment of silence passed. Then Sarah said, "It was a pretty long peek, though."

Chuck huffed. "Oh, now, there you go. Kick a man when he's down."

Sarah smirked. "I'm just sayin'…"

"Oh no. No, no, no. Not fair," he said quickly. "Any guy with a pulse would do the same exact thing if a drop-dead gorgeous woman walked up to him and pulled her shirt off."

Sarah's smirk widened. "Gorgeous, huh?"

Chuck felt his jaw tense and his words came out through clenched teeth. "That's not … you know what I mean."

"Drop dead, no less."

Chuck let out an unintelligible grumble of frustration. His earlier embarrassment was nothing compared to this. His foot-in-mouth disease seemed to have relapsed in a big way. He didn't want Sarah Walker to think he was some sleazy rich dude who treated women like objects. He didn't know why that as so important to him. He'd known Sarah for less than a day. But for whatever reason, it mattered.

Sarah must have realized she'd pushed Chuck past his comfort zone because she reached out and put a hand on Chuck's knee. "Hey," she said. "Relax. I'm just giving you a bad time."

Seeing Sarah's hand resting on his leg, feeling its warmth and reassuring pressure, Chuck felt his anxiety drop down a notch. He took in a breath, then shook his head and let out a short laugh.

"Sorry. Kinda stressed. Today's been sorta … unusual," he said.

Sarah pulled her hand away and sat back in her chair. "You can say that again."

The insanity of the day flashed through Chuck's mind and once again he shivered at the close calls they'd just had.

"You saved me back there. Again," Chuck said. "Thank you."

"You're the one who saved us, Chuck. Your quick thinking really pulled our asses out of the fire."

Chuck stared at the floor. They sat in silence for a while.

"How did they find us?" Chuck asked.

"Don't know. They could have tracked one of our phones."

Chuck hesitated, then asked, "What about your boss?"

He was surprised at Sarah's lack of defensiveness.

"I've known Casey for five years," Sarah replied. "He's a straight-arrow. My instincts tell me he's not dirty. But that doesn't mean he hasn't been compromised."

"I don't understand."

"His communications may be tapped. Or someone might be holding a loved-one captive and extorting him for information. There are a lot of ways to leverage someone."

"Who can we trust?"

"Right now, no one involved in this," Sarah said. "We're going dark until I can figure out what's going on and who the players are."

"So, what's the plan?"

Sarah grunted as she shifted uncomfortably her chair. "I know a place where we can go. I'll make a call tomorrow and set it up. We'll be safe there and it will give us a couple of days to figure things out."

Sarah eyed Chuck. "I need you to tell me the specifics about the project — the stuff I wasn't cleared for."

Chuck hesitated. "That's classified."

Sarah frowned. "Chuck, someone's trying to capture you … or kill you. I need to know why. I realize you're the project lead, but that doesn't explain how they'd benefit by taking you out of the equation. And … who are they, anyway." She leaned forward. "I need to know."

Chuck nodded. Sarah's questions zeroed-in to the heart of the matter. He knew the answer to her first question. For security purposes he was the only one who could activate the software system that was - in and of itself - the entire DOD project. As for her second question, he didn't have a clue who'd want him dead.

It took half an hour for Chuck to give Sarah a full briefing about the project. He explained that, along with the US DOD, the other project client was the South Korean government. And finally, he described how he was the proverbial linchpin for the entire project.

"This was helpful," Sarah said. "It gives me some idea of who might be coming after you. Most likely the RGB."

"RGB?" Chuck questioned.

"Reconnaissance General Bureau. North Korea's spy agency."

"But how would they even know about the project?" Chuck asked.

"No way to tell," Sarah replied. "But it's a spy agency. That's what they do. I have a contact in the CIA who might be able to help us. I'll reach out tomorrow and ask her to dig around."

Sarah yawned. "For now, we need to sleep."

She got up, moved the chair to the door and propped the back underneath the door handle. Then she locked the door as well. She turned on the bathroom light so some illumination would filter into the main room and turned off the overhead light. Grabbing an extra blanket and two spare pillows from the room's dresser she walked back to the bed.

"Scoot back," Sarah said as she stacked the extra blanket and pillows against the headboard. "You can lean back on these so you're partially sitting. Not as comfortable as your sofa, but better than nothing."

Chuck gave her a grateful look. "Thank you," he said as he carefully positioned himself against the pillows. The ibuprofen had brought the pain down from a raging inferno to a dull roar and it felt good to lie back. He felt himself fading fast although he wasn't sure his anxiety would let him sleep. Well, if he couldn't sleep, he could rest. That was good enough.

Chuck watched as Sarah positioned the other two pillows and stretched out gingerly, lying her left side down which put her injured side up. She was on the left side of the bed so she was facing Chuck. The bed was small and their hips rested against each other. Sarah pulled the bedspread up over them both and rested her head on a pillow. She looked up at him.

"You okay with this?" she asked.

"As long as you respect me in the morning, Detective."

After a while Sarah heard Chuck's breathing grow steady and deep. She felt his body relax next to hers. He was finally asleep.

Sarah, on the other hand, wasn't.

The scene in Chuck's loft where he threw himself in front of the shooter kept replaying in her mind. She'd realized the ammo was non-lethal when she'd been hit. As she'd struggled to stay on her knees, incapacitated by the agony in her side and the inability to breathe, she'd watched the shooter coming for her. She'd known he'd go for a headshot. He wanted Chuck and she was in the way. Chuck had jumped in front of the bastard and taken what would have been a lethal shot for her. If the shot had hit Chuck in the head it would have killed him. And as far as Chuck had known, he was jumping in front of a full metal jacketed assault round. Still, he hadn't hesitated. In a split second he'd made the decision to sacrifice himself for her.

And as hard as she tried, she couldn't figure out why.

It wasn't every day that you watched someone — right in front of you — willingly lay down their life to save yours. How the hell did you deal with something like that? Especially when you both survived. Why would someone make that choice — for her? Why would anyone think her life was worth more than their own? Sarah couldn't even guess at the answers and it made her feel powerless, fragile and out of control.

Not being in control scared Sarah Walker. As a bodyguard, or a cop, you had to be in control at all times. Being in control meant you held the power. Power to assess the situation, to take necessary action, to shape your immediate circumstance and, ultimately, to keep people safe. Being in control meant survival. It was her job to be in control.

Exhaustion weighed on her, heavy and thick, breaking down the last resistance that had kept tears at bay. Water pooled in Sarah's eyes as emotions battled inside her. Guilt that Chuck had placed himself in harm's way because of her. Loathing of herself for being lazy which had made them more vulnerable. Fear that she could still loose Chuck like she'd lost Shaw.

No. She wouldn't lose Chuck. She wouldn't allow fate to take him. She wouldn't give the responsibility of keeping him alive to someone else. But that wasn't an issue any longer. Which suited Sarah just fine. To hell with being compromised. She owed Chuck. And she liked Chuck. He deserved to live, way more than the dozens of self-absorbed diplomatic and political pricks she'd protected in the past. He was different. He was special. She'd never met anyone like him and probably never would again. He deserved a happy life and she was going to get him out of this.

Her mind rebounded back to the scene in the loft and she watched herself recoil in fear as the bullet took Chuck in the chest. She'd known the rubber bullets meant they'd come to take him, not kill him. It was Beirut happening all over again. A white-hot rage had engulfed her and she'd lost all control until she'd held the shooter in her hands and stared into his lifeless eyes.

And the irony wasn't lost on Sarah. Chuck had thanked her for saving him. God, she could just slap the nerd for being so dense. He couldn't see that it was he who'd saved her - twice. She was alive because of him. She was alive because Chuck Bartowski had been willing to sacrifice his life to save hers.

She blinked and the tears finally spilled down her cheeks.

Sarah remembered Chuck's anger when he'd told her that each person made their own choice about what or who was worth sacrificing their life for.

Casey had told her Chuck wasn't worth it.

Sarah tilted her head up to look at Chuck's face.

Casey was wrong.

"I'll keep you safe, Chuck," Sarah whispered. "I promise."

Chapter Text

Consciousness flooded back into Sarah all at once. She kept her eyes closed and her breathing level for the few seconds it took to gather her awareness. This was how she always woke up, imprinted into her psyche during her years in the Secret Service.

She took mental inventory. She was in a motel. With her package. No, not a package. She was with Chuck. They were asleep on the small bed. They were safe — for the time being.

Next, Sarah took inventory of her body. Her rib was injured and hurt like hell, but she was warm. The side of her face was resting on something soft, but not her pillow. And her head was gently rising and falling. It was Chuck's chest. His right side. His least injured side, if that was any consolation. Her arm was sprawled across his waist. She didn't move for fear she'd brush against one of his injuries.

Sarah opened her eyes and slowly tilted her head up. She was surprised to find him awake, looking down at her, his face relaxed and his expression warm.

"Morning," he said, softly.

She still didn't move, not wanting to hurt him, but also reluctant to leave the comfort of her current position. She felt … content. She hadn't felt that way in a long time.

"Morning," she replied.

"I swear, I'm not being creepy," Chuck said. "You were sleeping so soundly and I didn't want to move and wake you."

Sarah blinked, then let out a chuckle. He had to be uncomfortable, maybe even in pain, all because he hadn't wanted to wake her. But she wasn't surprised at him this time. She was beginning to understand this man.

Light streamed in from under the window curtains.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"About half past six."

"Did you get any sleep?"

"Couple of hours."

"That's good," Sarah said. She slowly raised up, gritting her teeth against the pain in her side. "We need to get going soon. Wait here. I need to go down to the lobby."

"What for?"

"You'll see. I'll be back in a half hour or so."

Sarah climbed from the bed and cautiously stretched her arms, grunting as her sore ribs made their displeasure known. She stopped by the vanity, downed another five ibuprofen and splashed water on her face. She tucked Chuck's shirt into her pants, retied her pony tail and exited the room.

In the small lobby she grabbed a day-old newspaper from an end table and sat in a chair, pretending to read. When a middle-aged man entered and went to the counter to pay his bill Sarah watched closely. When he was done and put his wallet away Sarah stepped up to him and pretended to trip, grabbing onto the man as if to keep from falling into him. She brought her body close and pressed her breasts tightly against the man's chest.

"Oh, I'm such a klutz," she said. "I'm so sorry."

"No problem," he said, politely. His eyes were on her chest, not her hands. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, thank you," Sarah said as she pulled back from the man and started to walk away. "Sorry," she said again.

Sarah returned to their room, sat down on the bed and started going through the man's wallet. "About three hundred bucks. That's great," she said.

Chuck stared at her. "Where'd you get that?"

"I pick-pocketed a guy in the lobby," Sarah explained.

"You're a cop. You can't do that," Chuck said.

Sarah snorted. "People are trying to kill us, we're on the run, we can't use our credit cards and we have no cash. Extraordinary circumstances call for extraordinary measures."

"But … you're a cop," Chuck repeated in disbelief.

"I'll mail this guy's wallet back to him, along with any cash we borrow and even throw in an extra hundred. But right now, we need it more than he does. So, put on your jacket and let's go."

Chuck shook his head. "You never cease to amaze me, Detective."

"Again, with the compliments," she said. "Stop, you'll embarrass me."

Thirty minutes later they exited a thrift store and got into the Honda parked on the street. They had a Seahawks t-shirt for him and a mauve blouse and light jacket for her. They changed in the car with a quick check of each other's injuries as they stripped off one top and donned another. It was a clinical process and Chuck didn't let his eyes wander to her bra and breasts. Sarah caught herself feeling a little bummed about that. He'd called her gorgeous, after all. What woman didn't want a little attention from an attractive man who thought she was gorgeous.

Next, they purchased a burner smart phone from a 24-hour Walmart, which used up a lot of their cash. Still, Sarah thought they had more than enough for the ferry tickets, so they ducked into a little espresso bar for coffee and breakfast sandwiches.

Sarah glanced up from the phone's screen and watched as Chuck devoured a sandwich and gulped at his second cup of coffee. She took a bite of her own sandwich and settled back, monitoring the screen and waiting.

"So, how does this work?" he asked.

"Zondra and I set-up an emergency contact protocol in case we ever needed each other's help. She's CIA and, honestly, I figured it would be her that would someday need help from me, not the other way around." Sarah took a sip of coffee. "We leave a specific message on a public chatroom board. That triggers a text message notification that one of us is in the chat room and needs to talk. Right now I'm waiting for her to get the text and log in."

"Do you trust her?"

"Yeah. We worked protection together for a year overseas in the Secret Service. If anyone can find out if the RGB is involved, it's her."

The phone screen flickered as the chat window scrolled up with a new line of text.

blondie? confirm

"She's here," Sarah said.

Chuck looked over Sarah's shoulder. "What's that mean?"

"It's our private nickname for me. She wants our confirmation code. Sarah typed in a six digit code and hit enter. "It's the day we first met," she explained

Then Sarah typed, riz? confirm

Another six digit number appeared on the screen. "That's the last day we worked together," Sarah said. "It's really her."

Sarah let out a sigh of relief. Finally she was in contact with someone she could trust.

Another line appeared on the screen from Zondra.

situation?

FUBAR! with package, running hard

The screen paused.

"You're using vague language so there aren't any keywords a bot sniffer could identify," Chuck said. "Are you sure you're not really a spy?"

Sarah glanced over her shoulder at him. "Smart man. And, no. I'm not a spy. The spy life just wasn't for me."

The screen flashed with a new line from Zondra.

rabbit hole?

yes, will contact legs

"Who's legs?" Chuck asked.

"I'll explain in a minute," Sarah said.

Zondra sent another line.

good, what can i do

research

details?

Sarah's thumbs flew over the keys.

1 — any flags: package - CIB, 810918, wm, b&b, 6-4, seattle

2 — status: NK agency bad boys in heartland?

3 — deep dive: my boss

"Hey, those are my initials and that's my birthday, but in universal date format," Chuck said. "What does the rest mean."

"White male, brown hair and brown eyes, your height and where you live. That's enough information for her to figure out who I'm referring to. I asked her to see if you've been flagged by the intelligence community and if there's any chatter about you.

"I also asked her to check and see if there's anything about RGB agents currently active in the US. That was the 'NK agency bad boys'. "

"What about the third item?" Chuck asked.

Sarah stared at the screen. Her hands felt cold and the thought of what she had asked Zondra to do saddened her. "I asked her to check out my boss to see if there's any intelligence that he's in on this."

The screen flashed.

noon tomorrow, go ask alice, be safe, bye blondie

thx, bye riz

Sarah closed the chat window.

"What did the last line mean," Chuck asked.

Sarah took another bite of her sandwich, chewed, then said, "She'll get back to us around noon tomorrow. Go ask alice means, to go underground."

"Oh. That's what rabbit hole meant. Like Alice going down the rabbit hole," Chuck said.

"Good job, nerd boy."

Chuck grinned, "I can razzle and dazzle the best of them."

"Okay, now I need to contact Legs," Sarah said. "She's another ex-Secret Service agent I worked with. She's got a safe place where we can stay while we try to figure out what the hell's going on."

"And you trust her, too?"

"Yeah," Sarah said.

Sarah keyed in a number. The call was answered and a voice said, "Scrimshaw Inn. This is Carina."

"Hey, Miller."

After a pause on the other end of the line an enthusiastic voice said, "Well, son of a bitch. It's about goddamned time you called, Walker."

"Yeah, sorry," Sarah said.

"Wait," Carina said. "This isn't the number I have for you."

"I'm on a burner."

Carina went silent for a moment, then her voice came back on the line, all business this time. "What do you need?"

Sarah felt a flash of gratitude. It was good to talk to someone who had lived and worked in her world and who understood without needing an explanation.

"I'm on the run with a package. Going dark and need a layover," Sarah explained.

"You got it," Carina said.

Sarah let out a relieved sigh. "Thanks."

"I thought you quit those gigs," Carina said. "Did you leave the SPD?"

"Still a cop," Sarah said. "My captain forced this job on me."

"So, it went south?"

"In a big way."

"Well, shit. Can you make the 3pm ferry?"

Sarah looked at her watch. "No problem."

"Good. That will put you in port at about half past four. I'll meet you there."

"Thanks, Carina. I owe you."

Carina barked out a laugh. "Damn right you do, Blondie."

Chapter Text

Chuck leaned back on the vinyl covered seat of the huge passenger ferry gilding over the waters of the Northern Puget Sound. The sun was high in a blue sky, its rays sparkling off the water. The deep forest green of Douglas Firs lined the shores of Washington State's San Juan Islands as the ferry weaved its way along, around and in between the archipelago.

It was beautiful here, more so than Chuck had imagined. Ever since he'd moved to Seattle he'd wanted to visit the islands, a popular tourist, vacation and recreation mecca. But he'd never seemed to be able to find the time. He shook his head at the irony. He was here now, with a beautiful woman none the less, but it had taken multiple attempts on his life and becoming a fugitive to finally get him here. His priorities were definitely screwed up.

They'd driven north for two hours to the town of Anacortes and the main ferry terminal to and from the islands. Sarah'd explained that Carina had retired from the Secret Service about a year after Sarah'd resigned. She'd purchased and renovated a large older home on the West Sound of Orcas Island, the second largest island in the chain. She'd built it into a popular, high-end, micro destination inn. Sarah had been there once before and it would be a perfect place for them to hide and regroup.

Chuck leaned toward Sarah who was looking out the ferry's window. "Can I use your phone? I need to call my boss."

Sarah turned and gave him a look. "You're not serious."

Her response surprised him. "Umm … yeah. I need to check in with her. I've been off the radar for a day and she's probably having a cow. This is the first downtime I've had to even think about talking with her."

"No calls, to anyone," Sarah said.

"Don't worry about Beckman being a bad guy. She's the last person in the world who'd commit treason."

Sarah quickly looked around them. "Keep your voice down," she said.

Chuck glanced around, chagrined. Even though he and Sarah were fairly isolated in a corner of the large passenger deck, there were still a lot of people on the afternoon ferry.

"Sorry. But I still need to call her," Chuck said in a loud whisper.

"What about going dark don't you understand?" Sarah said.

Chuck felt his impatience rising at Sarah's refusal. She didn't seem to understand how critical it was for him to reinsert himself into the project, if even from a distance. He'd been out of touch for a day now. He needed to keep his staff on track so the project wouldn't be delayed.

"This is important," Chuck said.

"Still not an option," she replied.

Anger welled up inside Chuck, replacing the impatience he'd felt a moment before. He needed to convince her somehow.

"It's a burner phone. I'll keep it short. No one will trace it."

"No."

Chuck couldn't contain his anger any longer. "You don't get it," he snapped. "There's a hundred million dollar contract at stake. It's my job to make this project happen."

Sarah glared at Chuck and leaned toward him, her tone as intense as his own. "And it's my job to keep you alive. I don't care about the damn project, Chuck. Your life's at stake. Put a hundred million dollars and your life side by side and there's no contest." Sarah pulled back, shaking her head back and forth. "End of discussion." She turned her gaze back to the window.

Leaning back in his seat Chuck regarded Sarah. This wasn't the first time he'd witnessed her temper flare. He knew from his own experience that anger almost always covered up fear. When Sarah's anger had surfaced, the topic of discussion had been her responsibility to protect him. This was Sarah's hot button and he'd inadvertently pushed it a couple times already. Chuck had heard Sarah explain to her friend on the phone that her captain had forced her to take the assignment as his bodyguard. She didn't want to be here. He couldn't blame her.

It was obvious to Chuck that something bad had happened to Sarah. Bad enough to make her quit the Secret Service. Bad enough that she was afraid she might not be able to do her job and protect him. He had a suspicion what it might have been.

Without prelude Chuck said, "You lost someone you were protecting."

Sarah visibly flinched but kept looking out the window.

"That's why you got so angry with me — just now and at my house."

Sarah remained silent.

"What happened?" Chuck asked.

"Not relevant," Sarah said, her eyes still averted.

Chuck felt another spark of anger at her dismissal but kept his cool. "Yes, it is."

Sarah turned to look at him. "Really?" she said, her voice incredulous. "How do you figure?"

"You know all about me, but I don't know anything about you," Chuck said.

"It's my job to know about you," she said. "You don't need to know anything about me other than I'm the bodyguard and you're not."

"You were the bodyguard. But this whole damn situation has changed," Chuck said. "Now it's as much my job as yours to keep me alive." He shifted forward in his seat. "It's not just me that's in danger. Whether you like it or not, we're a team."

"There is no team here," Sarah said, gesturing with her hand back and forth between them.

"I know I'm not the expert," Chuck said. "You are. But I'm not a noncombatant anymore. Whether you like it or not, I've been thrown into the ring. I'm part of the fight now. I know I won't get through this without you. But it can't just be you pulling all the weight anymore."

Sarah kept her gaze on Chuck but stayed quiet.

"If we're going to make it out of this alive, I need to know what makes you tick so I don't keep pissing you off," Chuck said.

"You don't piss me off," Sarah said, her voice tight.

"Tell that to my shoulder," Chuck said.

Sarah's expression darkened and she jerked her gaze away.

A jolt of guilt went through Chuck. He remembered her reaction when she'd seen his injuries in his bathroom.

"Crap," he breathed out. "Low blow. I'm a jerk."

The silence between them was sower and thick. Chuck figured he'd burned a bridge, so he sat back to endure the rest of the trip.

After a while Sarah spoke, her voice quiet. "It was in Beirut. He was a diplomat."

Chuck looked at her but remained silent.

Sarah continued to stare out the window. "I dropped my guard. He got shot."

"I'm sorry he died," Chuck said.

"He didn't," Sarah said, her voice tight, her words jerky. "Worse. They took him. Terrorists."

"What happened to him?"

Sarah took in a shuddering breath. "Don't know. No demands were ever received. Most likely scenario — probably tortured until he had no more useful information. Then …" she didn't finish.

Chuck pushed out a breath. Sarah's disclosure had taken a toll on her and his heart ached for the pain he saw on her face. He reached over and touched her knee for a moment, then sat back and gave Sarah her space.

She took in another difficult breath and kept staring out the window.

Chapter Text

"Blondie!"

Chuck heard the woman's voice call out above the noise of the throng of people as they walked through the ferry terminal.

Next to him Sarah stood on her tiptoes and scanned the crowd.

"Look out," the voice said. "Coming through, coming through."

A moment later the crowd parted and the second most beautiful woman Chuck had ever seen in his life rolled toward them in a sleek, black wheel chair.

Long, chestnut hair flowed down over the fair skin of bare shoulders and across the front of a tight, black tank top. Her narrow waist flared out to perfect hips and her long legs were sheathed in shiny black leather pants. A smattering of freckles dusted her nose and narrow cheeks. Her lips were thin and sensuous, and her emerald eyes twinkled as she rolled to a stop.

"Hey, Legs," Sarah said as she bent down and hugged her friend.

Chuck did a double take at the nickname. Even though she was in a chair, the woman's legs were long and lean and sexy.

"Thanks for this. You're a life saver. Literally," Sarah said.

Sarah stood and her friend turned the chair toward Chuck. She made no effort to hide her appraisal of him, her eyes taking him in from head to foot and back up.

"So, this is the package," she said. "Very nice, Walker."

Sarah cleared her throat and Chuck caught her nervous expression. "This is Chuck," Sarah said. "Chuck, this is Carina Miller."

"Well, hellooooooo, Chuck," Carina cooed.

Chuck hesitated for moment not sure how to respond. He hadn't expected a sexy as hell, ex-Secret Service agent to greet him in a wheelchair. "Hi," he finally said and offered his hand. "Nice ride."

Carina let out a belly laugh as she slipped her hand around Chuck's. She turned to Sarah. "Ooooh, I like this guy, Walker."

Chuck watched as Sarah gave a noncommittal shrug. He'd learned a little about Sarah watching her over the past day and he could tell her nervousness was ramping up.

Carina's grip was firm and she held on until Chuck got uncomfortable enough to make a timid attempt to pull his hand back. Carina held tight for just a moment longer, then let his fingers slip from hers. She gave him a languid smile and her gaze reminded him of a predator stalking its prey. He swallowed hard. Carina's grin widened.

Carina turned her attention back to Sarah. "Car?"

"Ditched it in mainland long-term parking," Sarah said. "This whole mess should be over before its ticket expires."

Carina spun her chair around. "Come on. I've got everything ready for you."

Carina led them to a late model van in the parking lot. Chuck watched as her shoulder, arm and back muscles flexed under the tank top straps. She moved with grace and power. Her body, strong and fluid and sensual. It was like watching a supermodel who owned the runway and knew how to mesmerize a crowd. Carina was dangerous, in more ways than one.

Carina pressed a button on her key fob and the side door slid open. A hydraulic platform extended out and down. Carina rolled onto the ramp which lifted her into the van. She locked her chair's wheels, levered up on her arms and slid into the driver's seat. Sarah climbed into the passenger's side and Chuck sat in a rear seat behind the wheelchair. Carina started the van, manipulating the throttle and brakes with hand controls mounted on the steering column just behind the wheel.

Chuck was curious about Carina, but kept his mouth shut. Sarah'd told him Carina had been a Secret Service agent who'd worked protective details with her. He was pretty sure that would have required the use of her legs. And Sarah'd said she'd retired. Maybe there was a connection.

One thing that was crystal clear about Carina, she exuded an almost magnetic sexuality. And she definitely liked to flaunt it.

As they drove along beautiful country roads Chuck found Carina continually casting glances at him in the review mirror.

"So, what's your story, Chuckles," Carina finally asked.

Chuck looked at Sarah. "Ah, I'm not sure how much I can say."

"I'm not asking why Walker's covering your ass. The less I know, the better. I'm just looking for the 411. Are you married, involved, sexual preference, education, net worth? You know, the basics." She winked at him in the mirror.

"Carina!" Sarah said.

"What?" Carina said in mock complaint. "Chuckles is a big boy and I bet your boss didn't say anything about protecting him from having a good time." She glanced at Sarah. "And even you have to admit, he's kinda cute."

Chuck was surprised to see Sarah's face flush red. He'd figured out that this was one of Sarah's tells. And what it told Chuck was that Carina Miller had gotten under Sarah Walker's skin.

"Back off, Carina," Sarah said, her voice irritated. "You know why we're here. This is business, not pleasure."

"Relax, Walker. You're both safe here. And with me around, Chuckles has not one, but two of the Secret Service's finest looking after him." Carina glanced in the mirror at Chuck. "And there's nothing wrong with mixing a little pleasure with your business. Wouldn't you say so, Chuck?"

"Drop it," Sarah said.

Carina gave Sarah a sidelong glance, her smirk still in place. "Okay. No problem. Consider it dropped. For now."

They made the remainder of the twenty minute drive in silence.

Carina parked in front of a beautifully decorated, three story, Victorian style home. The sign in front read Scrimshaw Inn. Chuck and Sarah followed Carina up the front ramp into the main foyer. The decor was elegant and classy with hardwood floors, dark pine wood walls and beautiful oak furniture. Off to the left was a wide entrance into a large sitting room with thick area rugs, luxurious upholstered furniture and a large fireplace. To the right was a large dining room with a dark hardwood table capable of seating at least twenty people. Ahead of them rose a wide carpeted stairway with oak banisters.

"This is incredible," Chuck said.

Carina beamed. "You sure know how sweet talk a girl," she said and patted him on the butt. "Go on up." She pointed to the stairs. "Your room is the doorway at the end of the hall. I'll take the lift and meet you there." She took off past the stairs toward the back of the house.

Chuck took in their room as they entered. It was large and richly furnished in the same style as the main floor. A door on one wall led to a private en-suite bathroom. There was a queen bed with a thick duvet comforter and large pillows as well as a separate day-bed. He let out a quiet sigh of relief. At least they would have separate beds.

Sleeping next to Sarah hadn't been a problem for him - and that was, in and of itself, the problem. He was getting too comfortable with their physical closeness — enjoying it, even. And that needed to stop. There was no place for this relationship to go. He needed to face reality and put an end to his infatuation. It had taken him a long time to get over Jill and he'd promised himself that he would never again fall in love with someone who couldn't love him back. Friends — that was possible, he was even thinking of Sarah as a friend now. But lovers — not in the cards. A woman like Sarah Walker could never fall in love with a nerd like him.

At the far end of the room was a sitting area with two chairs, a love seat and a coffee table facing a large, double glass door that opened out onto a small, private deck. Beyond that was the panorama of the West Sound.

Chuck stared out at the view. It was breathtaking. For any other couple this would be a fairy-tale setting for a romantic get-away. But that wasn't why they were here. Chuck wondered if he and Sarah had met under different circumstances, would something have grown between them? Could it have become even more, eventually leading them to this exact place for an entirely different reason?

Carina came through the door and Chuck's thoughts of a different Chuck and Sarah vanished.

"It's so beautiful here," Chuck said to Carina. "I don't know what to say."

"You can say I do," Carina said and handed them each a gold wedding band. "Put these on."

Sarah jerked her hand back as if she'd touched a hot burner. "Carina, what the hell?" Sarah said.

"Come on, Walker," Carina said. "You guys are hiding out. This is the honeymoon suite. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what your cover should be?"

"Oh, no," Sarah said, shaking her head. Not gonna happen."

Carina glared at Sarah. "What the hell's wrong with you? This isn't your first rodeo."

Sarah froze in place and Chuck watched as a myriad of emotions played across her face. She stared at the ring, then at Carina, then at Chuck.

Chuck wasn't a spy or a government agent or anything close, but Carina's logic regarding a 'cover' seemed like a no-brainer to him.

Sarah hesitated a moment longer, then she huffed out, "Fine," and slipped the ring onto her finger.

Chuck followed suit and they both turned to Carina.

"This is an inn, not a motel," Carina said with a haughty air as she turned her chair and moved toward the door. "Dinner is served family style in the dining room at seven. Casual dress. Well see you then." Just before she left the room she looked over her shoulder and flashed a self-satisfied smile. "Congratulations on your recent nuptials, Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael."

She let out a laugh and rolled out the door.

Sarah checked out their room while Chuck took a shower. Carina had hung several of her own tops, jeans and jackets in the closet, along with some matched sets of bras and panties. Sarah was a little bustier than Carina, but they were both tall and slender and the clothes fit well enough. There were even a couple of men's button-down shirts in the closet. They might barely be long enough if Chuck wore them untucked, but he'd look fine in them. She was surprised Carina had been able to dig up anything for him at all.

Once she'd completed a thorough check of the room, paying special attention to the locking mechanisms of the windows, glass doors and the room door, Sarah walked out onto the deck. Although it was just after six in the evening the air was warm and the sun shone brightly on the bay. Her mind drifted and she wondered how many real married couples had stood on this very deck, arms wrapped around each other, deeply in love, escaping the mundane routine of life just to be with one another.

That's why she did what she did — to protect and serve — so people could be safe and lead normal lives and have normal relationships. But mundane lives and loving relationships weren't the norm for a cop. For a cop — or a federal agent — to care about someone meant to open yourself up to hurt and loss. She'd cared about someone she'd been responsible for, with disastrous results. Never again.

An hour later Sarah had showered and dried her hair, leaving it down and flowing over her shoulders. She and Chuck had examined each other's injuries and Chuck had helped Sarah wrap her ribs with a new compression bandage from a first aid kit Carina had delivered to their room. Chuck had been on his best behavior. But unlike earlier in the car, she'd caught his eyes casting one appreciative glance at her body covered only by one of the expensive sets of undies. She felt a satisfied tingle in her belly.

Finished with their mutual examinations Chuck pulled on a crisp, sky blue button down shirt. It fit him snuggly and reminded Sarah that underneath the black and blue mass of bruises he was slender, solid and fit. That sent another tingle through her.

She changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a white scoop-neck pullover. Slipping into her shoulder holster she secured her weapon and pulled on a light blue jacket. They inspected themselves in the large mirror hanging on the back of the closet door and agreed they looked a damned sight better than they had in the motel room.

Sarah sat next to Chuck at the large dining table, along with Carina and eight other guests. Carina had introduced everyone, dinner had been served and small talk had ensued. Sarah had never been good at small talk, but she forced herself to participate.

"Congratulations to you both," said one guest, Bolonia Tucker. She and her husband, Michael, had come to the Inn to celebrate their 20th wedding anniversary. She was a school teacher and he was a district manager for a large electronics retail chain.

"Thank you," Chuck said.

Sarah nodded her appreciation.

Michael raised his glass and addressed the table. "A toast to the newlyweds." Everyone raised their glasses. "May they find happiness and joy as they walk this path of life together."

"Here, here," echoed from several of the guests as they clinked glasses and drank.

Sarah looked at Chuck who was looking back at her.

"Don't be shy, son," Michael said. "Kiss your beautiful bride. Take it from me, the secret to a long marriage is to always let her know, without a doubt, she's the one. And there's no better time to start than the present."

The rest of the guests chuckled and nodded and smiled.

Chuck's eyes were wide and panicked, like a deer in the headlights. Sarah knew if she didn't do something soon he'd freeze and their cover would be blown. She reached below the table and took Chuck's hand, giving it a squeeze and pulling him toward her. His body was tense, but he was making an effort to smile and sell their cover. She leaned in and just before their lips met she paused and her eyes met his.

For an instant, time stood still. Sarah lost herself in Chuck's eyes. His kind eyes. She wished she could stay lost in them forever. She wished she could leave her world of violence and danger behind — to just be a regular girl living a regular life with a regular guy.

Sarah closed the last few millimeters and brushed her lips lightly across Chuck's as he closed his eyes. She let her lips linger for a moment, then gently pulled back. There was no spark of electricity, no shock to her system. Instead a warm contentment glowed inside her, fleeting and unexpected. It was powerful and a need rose in her, drawing her back to him like a magnet. But as she leaned in to kiss him again Chuck open his eyes and she stopped herself.

They both turned toward the rest of the guests who all had wistful smiles on their faces. Sarah felt the heat in her cheeks and her lips rose into a bashful smile.

One of the staff arrived with dessert and everyone's attention shifted to choosing one of the items off the tray. Sarah let out a relieved breath.

As guests enjoyed dessert Bolonia turned to Chuck and Sarah. "Michael and I were married on this island," she said. "We've come back every year to celebrate our anniversary." She linked her arm through her husband's and he leaned in to give her a quick kiss. "When Carina opened this Inn a couple of years ago we totally fell in love with it. I think we'll keep coming back here every year — until we can't."

"Oh, Bolonia," Carina said. "When you can't, I'll come and get you." Everyone at the table laughed.

"So, Charles, what's your profession?" Michael asked.

Chuck was in the middle of taking a sip of water. He jerked in panic at the question and started coughing as water went down his windpipe.

Sarah patted Chuck on the back as she turned to Michael. "Charles ...," Sarah paused for a beat then corrected herself, "… my husband and I own a frozen yogurt franchise. We have a dozen stores throughout Washington and Oregon." She needed to divert the conversation away from her and Chuck, so she asked, "Tell me, Michael, how did you and Bolonia meet?"

Michael smiled and both he and his wife happily shared the details of their story.

Chapter Text

After dinner Carina pulled Sarah aside in the hallway while Chuck continued to mingle with people in the dining room.

"I can't believe you're still using the yogurt cover," Carina said with a snort. "Geeze, Walker, can't you come up with something more original?"

"If it works, don't fix it," Sarah replied.

Sarah looked through the dining room entrance at Chuck conversing with a couple from Vancouver, BC. His likeable personality and easy going manner were already drawing people to him like a magnet. His laugh was infectious and his smile bright. He was more relaxed than she'd seen him in the last two days. Sarah was glad that he'd found a brief reprieve from the overriding fear that his life might be snuffed-out at any minute.

As Chuck chatted with the other guests he glanced in Sarah's direction. Their eyes met for a few moments and Chuck gave her an easy smile. Her thoughts went to the fake kiss they'd shared a few minutes before and another flash of warmth washed through her.

"So," Carina said, breaking Sarah's musings, "as a professional courtesy, and because you're a friend, I wanted to give you a heads-up. I plan to invite Chuckles to my room for a nightcap. Shouldn't cause you any problem. I still carry and I hit the range a couple times a month. I was always a better shot than you, anyway. You'll be right upstairs. No one knows you're here. He couldn't be any safer."

Sarah turned and glared at Carina. "Not a good idea," she said.

"Depends on your point of view," Carina said with a sly smile. "I bet Chuckles might think it's a good idea."

"Still a negative," Sarah said, anger beginning to simmer inside her.

"Not your call. You're his bodyguard, not his mother."

"Not gonna happen," Sarah said, squaring her shoulders and locking eyes with Carina. "Chuck's not like that."

Carina gave Sarah a look and barked out a laugh. "Like you know? I sincerely doubt that." She turned her gaze back to Chuck and licked her lips. "Something I learned a long time ago was that the quietest ones are the wildest ones."

"Leave him alone, Carina."

"What the hell is your problem, Walker? The poor sap looks stressed to the max. Some action with me between the sheets is just what the doctor ordered."

Sarah pinched her lips together and didn't respond. The charged silence between them stretched out.

"Wait a minute," Carina said. She looked hard at Sarah and then blew out a breath. "Fuck. I can't believe I didn't see it."

"See what?" Sarah said.

"Son … of … a … bitch. You like this guy."

Sarah twitched in irritation. "Well … ah … yeah, I like Chuck. He's a great guy. Better than most of the slime-bags we've stuck our necks out for."

"No. I mean, you really … like … him. You have feelings for him."

"That's ridiculous," Sarah said, looking away.

"Cut the crap, Walker. I've seen that look before. This guy's gotten under your skin."

"He's just a package."

"That's bullshit and you know it."

Sarah felt like everything inside her was wound-up tighter than a spring. She'd heard Carina's words, but they weren't making any sense. Yes, she'd grown to like Chuck, the same as everyone liked Chuck, he was just that kind of guy. But that was all, nothing more. Except … there was that kiss.

Sarah glanced back at Carina and saw her eyes widen.

"Oh my god," Carina said, her voice quiet. "You haven't even figured it out yet." She bowed her head and shook it back and forth. "Don't do this to yourself, Sarah. This is Shaw, all over again."

Anger flared and Sarah snapped back, "Don't you dare mention Shaw." She took a menacing step toward Carina.

Carina didn't back down and rolled her chair a few inches closer to Sarah. Their eyes locked.

"This is nothing like that," Sarah said, her voice low and heated.

"Then me taking Chuck into my bed shouldn't be a problem, should it," Carina ground out.

They continued glaring at each other. Sarah weighed Carina's words and realized Carina was right. It shouldn't be a problem. It absolutely couldn't be a problem. She wouldn't let it be a problem. After a few seconds Sarah dropped her gaze and took a step back. She let out a long breath.

"No, there's no problem," Sarah said.

"Good."

"Fine."

"Don't worry, Walker. I'll get him home before the witching hour."

Carina went into the dining room, engaging with her guests, playing the quintessential host.

Sarah was angry and frustrated. She had no stomach for meaningless conversation at the moment. She exited the front door onto the portico that surrounded the entire inn. She walked to the far corner which afforded her a view of the bay. The sun was a quivering ball of orange and red, slowly sinking to the horizon. Soon evening would fall and she and Chuck would have survived another day.

But that didn't calm the confusion she felt inside.

Chuck had caught glimpses of Sarah and Carina in the hallway. It didn't take a Ph.D. to see the conflict between the two ex-partners. He hadn't been able to make out their words, but at one point voices were raised and angry tones were easy to recognize. But that was between Sarah and Carina. He had no doubt that Carina was as stubborn as he knew Sarah was. He was better off keeping his nose out of their business.

Chuck enjoyed talking with the other guests. They were from Washington, Oregon and British Columbia. He found each individual interesting and enjoyed the respite from the insanity of his and Sarah's current situation. After a while he felt something bump up against his thigh and turned to find Carina tucking the large wheel of her chair tight against him.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Mr. Carmichael," Carina asked with a knowing smile?

"Yes," he said and smiled at her. "You're a gracious host." He brought his gaze up and scanned the room. "Have you seen Sarah?"

"She stepped out for a breath of fresh air," Carina said.

Chuck gave her a puzzled look.

"She just needed a couple minutes to herself. I told her I'd cover for her."

It took Chuck a second for Carina's explanation to hit home.

Geeze, Chuck, you're such an idiot.

Of course Sarah needed a break. Sarah wasn't just a bodyguard, she was a person too. Even though she was trained for this, it had to be hard.

"This has to be really difficult for her - the stress and all," he said.

"It's tough," Carina agreed. "But I have an idea how you could help Sarah out, maybe give her a little down-time."

"Great. How?"

"Come with me," Carina said. She led Chuck out into the hallway and down toward the end where her guests couldn't hear or see them.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm very attracted to you," Carina said. She reached out and clasped Chuck's forearm, massaging it with her fingertips.

Chuck swallowed hard. "The … ah … covert flirting sort of gave it away," he said.

"I wasn't trying to hide it," Carina said. She ducked her head and looked up at Chuck through her lashes. "I don't know how long you'll be here. And I'd really like to spend some time with you before you leave." She pivoted her chair so she was facing Chuck directly. "I was hoping you'd join me in my room for a drink."

"A drink?" Chuck said, his voice higher than he would have preferred.

"Well, not just a drink. But that would be a good way to start. Then I think we could find additional ways to keep ourselves occupied." Her demure smile had slipped into the predatory one Chuck remembered when he'd met her earlier that afternoon.

Chuck cleared his throat as he struggled to remain calm. Typically he'd start tripping over himself right about now with such a beautiful woman expressing an interest in him. "Carina, you're gorgeous and intriguing and sexy and smart and funny. I would be a liar if I said I wasn't tempted. But I'm not sure this is a good idea."

"I can't think of a better idea at the moment," Carina said. "And it would give Sarah a couple of hours to herself."

"No matter how tired she is, I don't think Sarah would approve," Chuck said.

"I already asked her, Chuck. She said it was okay."

Chuck's eyes widened. "Really? She said that?"

"Not more than ten minutes ago."

"Is that what you guys were talking about in the hallway?"

"Yeah."

"You didn't look very happy with each other."

"Let's just say we didn't see eye to eye about her taking some time off. But I finally convinced her."

Chuck sighed. "At another time, in another situation, maybe. But I can't leave Sarah alone right now."

"You know, Chuck, she's the bodyguard and you're the package. It's her job to take care of you, not the other way around."

"She's a person too," Chuck said. "I can't let her do this all by herself."

The snippet of conversation he'd overheard between Sarah and Carina that morning drifted into his thoughts. Sarah'd said that her captain had forced this job on her. It hadn't been Sarah's choice to become Chuck's bodyguard. And from the little she'd shared with him on the ferry, she'd intentionally left protective work. Now she'd been forced back into the thing that she obviously hated. She'd probably rather be walking barefoot on hot coals than on the run dragging along a six foot four nerd with people shooting at them.

"Hey," Chuck said as a thought hit him, "what happened … in Beirut?"

Carina's brows rose in surprise. "How do you know about Beirut?"

"Sarah told me. Not the whole story. Just the basics."

"How'd you manage to drag that out of her?"

"We had an argument - kinda. She keeps getting mad at me when I do stuff wrong. I don't have a clue what I'm supposed to do anyway, but it's like she's on a hair-trigger, ready to bite my head off." Chuck blew out a breath and leaned against the wall. "I told her I thought she'd had an assignment go bad and that's why she gets pissed when I do stuff I'm not supposed to. She told me about Beirut."

"What did she tell you?" Carina asked.

"Just that she was a bodyguard for a diplomat. That he was shot and then taken by terrorists."

Carina sat back in her chair, looking thoughtful. "It's not like Walker to share. I don't think she's ever told anyone that much about what happened. It was a total cluster-fuck and it really messed her up."

"You where there?" Chuck asked.

"Yeah. There were four of us assigned to a Whitehouse appointed diplomat tasked with a classified negotiation assignment."

"What happened to Sarah?" Chuck asked.

Carina studied Chuck for few seconds. "You like her, don't you?"

Chuck sputtered and stood up straight. "Ah … well … she's saved my life. How could I not appreciate that?"

Carina rolled her eyes. "God, it's like I'm in junior high again."

"Huh?" Chuck said.

"Forget it." Carina swiveled her chair, placing her back to the hallway and the rooms beyond. "I like you, Chuck. I like Walker, too. I think you're smart enough to keep your mouth shut. What I'm going to tell you is classified. But maybe it will help you understand Walker a little better and make this whole fiasco a little easier - on both of you."

Carina leaned forward, her voice quiet. "We were covering a rich-ass, Harvard graduate named Shaw. There were four of us on the detail — me, Walker, Zondra Rizzo and Amy Baker — and we staggered eight hour shifts.

"Walker and Shaw had just arrived by taxi at our hotel from an all night cruise of Beirut casinos. Shaw loved to gamble. Fancied himself a gaming prodigy. He loved the attention — big shot American diplomat with the gorgeous blonde on his arm."

Carina shook her head. "Asshole," she hissed. "Anyway, it was the end of Walker's shift and she was going to hand Shaw off to Baker in the hotel lobby. I happened to be there too, just gabbing with Baker when the taxi pulled up on the street. The hotel entrance was set back about a hundred feet from the curb and Walker and Shaw got out and moved toward the entrance."

She paused and Chuck could see emotion ghosting across her face. She closed her eyes and continued. "Shaw was an egotistical, socialite, pretty-boy, — always concerned about his look-good. I think that's why he did what he did."

"What did he do?" Chuck asked.

"They're half-way to the door," Carina continued, "when Shaw says he'd forgotten to tip the taxi driver. He says he'll be right back and turns and runs back to the cab with a bill in his hand. Walker yells at him to stop, but it all happened so fast. Everything was over in just a few seconds."

"What happened?"

"Shaw had just reached the taxi when we heard a gunshot. It was close in but we couldn't see a shooter. Shaw went down. Then we heard rifle shots from a distance and rounds started ricocheting off the concrete in front of the hotel. Walker tried to make a break toward Shaw when Baker and I grabbed her and hauled her with us to cover inside the hotel. Shaw was down and it was raining bullets. It would have been suicide to try to get to him."

Carina opened her eyes but stared blankly at the wall, as if watching a picture in her mind. "We were pinned down. But we saw Shaw move. He was shot and bloody but not dead. Walker was screaming at us to let her go. We didn't. Then a van pulls up. The rifle fire stops. Three guys get out, grab Shaw and throw him into the back of the van and take off. The police found the van two days later, abandoned in a burnt-out factory building. There was blood — it was Shaw's — but no body."

"My god," Chuck whispered.

"Walker still blames herself, even though an internal investigation cleared her," Carina said.

"Is that why she left the Secret Service?" Chuck asked.

"Yeah."

Chuck stared at the floor, his thoughts spinning. Carina's recounting of the Beirut incident explained a lot of Sarah's behaviors, especially the situations when she'd gotten mad at him. And now Chuck understood how difficult it was for Sarah to take on this job, even before all the shooting had started. Now that he knew more about why Sarah acted the way she did, he could do a better job of working with her and not making her angry at him.

Carina let out a sigh, breaking Chuck out of his thoughts. He looked up and found her watching him intently.

"Just my luck," she said.

"What?" Chuck said.

"Forget it," Carina said. "You'll figure it out eventually."

Chuck frowned but didn't pursue the cryptic comment. "Did you see where she went?" he asked.

"My guess would be outside on the deck. Walker always did like to be outside."

Chuck leaned down and kissed Carina's cheek. "Thank you, Carina." Then he headed out in search of his bodyguard.

Chapter Text

Sarah looked out at the sun setting over the bay. She shivered, not sure if it was from the evening air or from what Carina had said. Did she really have feelings for Chuck? No, that was not happening.

Carina had it all wrong. She was looking at Sarah's interaction with Chuck from the perspective of a normal assignment. It was easy to maintain a distance from the package when you went through the same routine day after day with no threat. That was the reality of ninety-nine point nine percent of the time you spent with a package. But this was different. Not only had people tried to hurt Chuck, they'd made at least three attempts. Sarah had to kill four men. Most professionals never had to deal with just one attempt on a package in their entire career. Yes, she was concerned about Chuck. And yes, her concerns were way more intense than normal. But bullets and bodies tended to make Sarah intensely concerned.

Still, the kiss they'd just shared nibbled away at the back of her mind. It hadn't been real — a fake kiss to keep their cover intact. But the feeling that mushroomed inside her hadn't been fake. She didn't know exactly what it was, but it had to be something because she couldn't stop thinking about it.

Sarah gave herself a mental shake. Tomorrow Zondra would contact her and hopefully have information that would help her decide what to do next. If the RGB was after them that would clarify things and open up options for her. But if her boss was somehow involved, well, that was something Sarah didn't want to think about right now. She'd cross that bridge when she came to it.

Another chill went through her as a gentle breeze came in off the sound and pushed her blond curls around her cheeks. Sarah wrapped her arms around herself and gazed out at the water without really seeing anything.

She was bone tired. Her cracked rib throbbed. The pain sucked the energy right out of her. Her mental state was no better. She was afraid for Chuck. Normally she didn't fear for the person she was protecting because she didn't allow herself to form any type of attachment. She wasn't heartless, she didn't want her package to be killed. But not liking a package made the entire situation objective and that made any bodyguard more effective. But it seemed that Chuck had done to her what he did to everyone. He'd made her like him. It had snuck up on her. Thinking about anyone wanting to harm Chuck made her blood boil. She wasn't sure how to deal with that. And what was that, if not 'feelings.'

Goddamn Carina and her 'feelings.'

For the first time in a long time Sarah felt completely overwhelmed. Hopelessness crept over her like a dark shadow. She felt alone and abandoned with no one to turn to. She'd been in tough spots before, but nothing like this. She wondered if she was up for this, if she could keep them both alive. And her doubts frightened her. She slumped against the deck railing and took in a heavy breath. Her eyes began to burn and she fought back the tears.

God, she'd become an emotional basket case in the last twenty-four hours. She knew it was the stress and the pain and the exhaustion. And the job. Damn Casey to hell for making her take this job. He knew what she'd gone through, he'd admitted it. Even then, he'd dumped her into a situation she'd vowed to never be in again.

Sarah couldn't let herself break down. Not now. She had to keep it together if she was going to get Chuck out of this alive. She could lose it for a couple of days when this was all over. She'd browbeat Casey into letting her take some well-deserved vacation time. She'd find a tropical beach where she could just lay in the sun by herself for days. No people to bother her. No one to be responsible for. No life or death decisions. Just herself, alone as usual. But alone was better than all of this. At least, she thought so.

But fear continued to pulse through her, stealing the rest of her strength. She'd failed once before and someone she'd cared for had paid the price. She'd vowed she would never fail again. She couldn't fail Chuck.

I'll get you out of this, Chuck. Whatever it takes.

Sarah considered that thought - the commitment she'd just made. Questions flashed through her head, answered just as quickly as they formed.

What did 'whatever it takes' actually mean to her? Anything, no holds barred.

Did it mean she'd take a bullet for Chuck? Yes, it did.

Why would she take a bullet for Chuck? Because he was worth it.

Why was Chuck worth it - to her? Sarah frowned at this question as no immediate answer popped into her mind.

Sarah heard footsteps approaching and hurried to pull herself together. She tried to stand taller but she was so tired all she could do was lean against the railing and try to look calm. She turned her head and was surprised to see Chuck walking toward her.

"Hey," he said, softly. He stopped next to her and leaned against the railing, looking out toward the bay.

"Hey," Sarah said, pushing her hair back and turning her eyes forward, trying to hide her fatigue and the emotions beating her up inside.

Chuck stood beside her, their shoulders almost touching. He was so tall. Tall and quiet. And solid. Hidden away underneath his shy and self-deprecating demeanor was a brave man, a principled man. He knew what he believed and wasn't afraid to fight for it. He was like a rock. And Sarah felt like a reed buffeted about at the mercy of an angry wind.

"Did Carina talk to you," Sarah asked.

"She did."

Sarah looked up at Chuck, confused. "Did she … suggest that the two of you …" She didn't have to courage to finish.

"She did that, too." Chuck shifted his weight and rested both elbows on the railing. He continued to look out at the bay. "She said she talked to you about it and you said it was okay." He gave her a sidelong glance. "Did you?"

His question hit Sarah like a hammer, deflating the last thread of resilience she had managed to hold onto. She bowed her head and let out a long breath of defeat. "Carina told me what she wanted to do," Sarah explained. "We disagreed. She said you'd be safe with her and that it was your decision. And she's right, on both counts."

"Oh. That makes more sense," Chuck said, matter-of-factly.

"If she asked you, then why are you here?"

Chuck turned to face Sarah. "Because you're my friend and I won't let you do this alone."

Sarah choked down a ragged breath. Her eyes burned again. The view of the sound blurred as silent tears spilled from her eyes and she had nothing left inside to stop them. Her shoulders felt familiar hands that turned her toward him. She didn't resist, nor did she look up as he slowly pulled her into him. Sarah rested her cheek gently against Chuck's chest, mindful of his injuries. She wrapped her arms around him. He just held her. Tall, quiet, solid. Like a rock. She wasn't alone.

Morning sunlight spilled through the deck's glass door. Chuck quietly placed the tray holding a dozen ibuprofen tablets, as well as two cups of coffee and various pastries he'd grabbed from the dining room's breakfast buffet, on the coffee table in front of the love seat. He sat and leaned back, watching Sarah sleeping in the bed. She looked so different asleep. Peaceful, relaxed, angelic. He remembered when he'd first saw her she'd seemed angelic then, too.

Last night Sarah had let her guard down, exhausted and overwhelmed. He'd been grateful she'd been willing to lean on him. It had rattled him for a second — that badass Sarah Walker could lose her shit. But that had faded as quickly as it had appeared. Sarah Walker was a real person. She had feelings. She had insecurities. She was vulnerable. She'd trusted him enough to let him see that side of her, to see her pain and uncertainty. She'd trusted him to carry the load for her, just for a little while. And he'd be there again for her if she ever needed him. Any time, any place. In a heartbeat.

It had been a tough night. They'd started out in separate beds, she in the day bed and he propped up in the queen bed. He hadn't been able to sleep as thoughts of the past two days raced through his mind. Sarah hadn't been able to sleep either.

He'd been surprised when she'd come over to his bed and looked down at him. She hadn't said a word — she didn't need to. Even in the evening's shadows her expression said all he needed to know. She was still fragile, still struggling to ground herself. He lifted the duvet and Sarah slid under the covers. She curled up next to him and sighed. And that had been enough for both of them to let go and allow sleep to find them.

Holding Sarah last evening, being strong for her, protecting her, had changed something inside Chuck. He wasn't sure what it was, but he felt — different. He'd only known her for a short time, but they'd been through so much together. He was beginning to really understand Sarah. Not as a bodyguard, but as a woman. A woman, beautiful both inside and out. A woman he now considered a friend. But it was more than that. He couldn't deny the attraction to Sarah growing inside him. It was more than just physical. He couldn't stop thinking about her. His mind still told him that Sarah was beyond his reach and any idea of a relationship with her was perilous at best and devastating at worst. But he suspected his heart was moving in a different direction.

Sarah stirred in the bed. One leg stuck out from under the duvet. Last night she'd grabbed one of the button-up shirts from the closet to use as a night shirt and it had slid up her leg, exposing a generous amount of thigh. Chuck realized that he didn't feel guilty admiring the view.

"I smell coffee, "came a groggy, muffled voice from the bed.

"Maaaaybeeeee," Chuck said.

"Don't screw with me, Bartowski," Sarah said, still laying with her face in the pillow.

"Heaven forbid," Chuck said.

Sarah rolled over and sat up, leaning back against the headboard. Her hair was mussed and the shirt clung to parts of her body that made parts of his body take notice. A goddess, without a doubt.

"You brought goodies, too?" Sarah asked, looking at the tray on the coffee table. "Oh my god, I think I'm in love."

Chuck's brain froze for half a second and then he let out a chuckle. "Just think if I'd brought eggs and bacon," he said with a grin.

"You wish, nerd boy," Sarah said as she crawled on her hands and knees to the foot of the bed.

If Chuck had thought she looked sexy a second ago, this was sexier, times ten. That pesky spark of lust reared up again.

Sarah stood, walked over to the love seat and plopped down beside Chuck. She leaned forward, grabbed some of the pain killers and washed them down with a gulp of coffee. She took another sip, this time humming in pleasure. Then she picked up a chocolate filled croissant and took a bite. She moaned again as she chewed.

Chuck sipped his own coffee and worked on a doughnut. For a time the only sounds were slurps, chewing and satisfied moans.

Sarah finished her pastry and sat back in the love seat. She stared at the cup in her hands. Finally she took a breath. "Thank you," she said.

Chuck knew she wasn't talking about the coffee and pastries. "Sure," he said. "I still think you've got more hash marks on your side of the tally sheet."

"Hardly," Sarah said.

She turned to face him and he was acutely aware that their knees were touching. Her expression was earnest and accessible. Her inner strength had returned, he could see it in her eyes, in her body.

"You were right yesterday," Sarah said.

"About …"

"Us being a team."

"Nah. That was just talk. I was mad."

" Doesn't mean you were wrong.

Chuck shrugged.

"Working together is the only way we'll get through this. I know I've been hard on you. I'm sorry. Just hang in there with me, Chuck. Okay?"

He reached out and pulled one of her hands away from her cup, squeezing it with his.

"Always," he said.

They had a couple of hours until Zondra was scheduled to contact them via the online chat room. They dressed and Chuck suggested they walk the thirty minutes into the small town nearby situated on the bay. Sarah balked at first. But it didn't take long for him to wear her down, emphasizing that the likelihood of anyone following them to the island was almost nonexistent.

The town catered to tourists and vacationers staying at the various resorts and inns on the island. They quickly found the boardwalk that ran along the shore of the bay. Even though it was mid-morning, the sun was out and the air was warm. Chuck was taken by the beauty of the bay and the giant evergreens and the picturesque buildings. He couldn't stop talking about it and he appreciated Sarah's agreement.

Their first stop was a small clothing store to get Chuck another pair of jeans. He could make do with the shirts Carina had provided, but she hadn't been able to rummage up a pair pants for his six foot four frame.

As they made their way Chuck noticed Sarah scanning their surroundings. He knew she was on the lookout for any sign of danger. He wished she could have relaxed a little bit more. But she seemed to be enjoying herself and he was glad to see more of Sarah the person and less of Sarah the bodyguard.

Along the boardwalk were dozens of small shops and eateries, bright with color, full of books and souvenirs and gadgets, all with a Pacific Northwest focus. Orcas were the most common theme in almost every shop they visited, given that the San Juan Island waters were home to several killer whale pods.

In one shop Sarah grabbed a stuffed orca toy and hugged it to her chest. "This is adorable," she said. "If we could spare the cash, I'd buy it."

Chuck leaned close to her and whispered, "Don't you even think about pick-pocketing anyone."

"Opps," she said. "Busted."

Chuck let out a laugh and Sarah laughed along with him.

As they continued to explore the shop Chuck found a ridiculous killer whale shaped ball cap, complete with a tall dorsal fin on the top. He found Sarah in another aisle and held it up without saying a word, trying to keep a straight face.

"You should get that for Beckman," Sarah said.

Chuck looked at the cap, then back at Sarah. "Oh my god, it's totally her."

They couldn't help laughing all over again.

As they strolled along the boardwalk Chuck saw a group of their fellow Scrimshaw Inn guests up ahead, standing by a railing, looking out over the bay and chatting. He remembered they had a cover to maintain, to make sure no one suspected they were anything other than a married couple. His hand sought out Sarah's, finding it easily, as if they were magnets with opposite charges. He interlaced his fingers with hers and felt her do the same. She'd seen the guests and was on the same wavelength as him.

When he turned to look at her, he found her already looking up at him. She was smiling. But it wasn't a fake smile. Not a cover smile. Her smile was reserved, shy even. And it reached all to way to her eyes. Chuck had never fooled himself that he was good at reading women. But he knew he was good at reading his friends — the people he trusted and who trusted him. Sarah was his friend now. He knew that her smile and the way she held his hand meant — in that moment — she was happy. And for the first time in a long time, Chuck felt sincerely happy, too.

They walked in a comfortable silence back to the Inn, hand in hand even after they were out of sight of the other guests. At the Inn's front steps they paused, their hands separating reluctantly.

"That was nice," Chuck said. "I needed that."

"It was, and so did I," Sarah said.

They climbed the stairs together and entered the Inn.

Chapter Text

"Here," Carina said.

Sarah turned away from the computer monitor sitting on top of a large desk and accepted the cup of coffee Carina offered from the tray in her lap.

"Thanks," Sarah said.

They were in the outer room of Carina's personal suite, using her computer to log into the chat room.

Sarah watched closely as Carina rolled over to Chuck who was slouched in an upholstered chair next to a coffee table. She handed him a cup as well. Carina was personable but didn't flirt with Chuck. The relief Sarah felt made her realize the tension she'd been holding as she'd waited to see how Carina would act around Chuck. Reluctantly, she realized there was no other way to explain that tension — she was jealous.

Denial isn't just a river in Egypt, she thought to herself.

Before her mind could jump down that rabbit hole the computer beeped and a new line of text appeared in the chat room.

blondie? confirm?

Sarah and Zondra went through their authentication protocol.

Zondra reported on her efforts.

1 - CIB: tagged as high value, MIA, OMG cute, want intro

2 - NK bad boys: WTF, wet-work active your city, target not known but suspect it's package

3 - Boss: clean

Sarah was so intent on Zondra's message the she hadn't heard Chuck get up and move to her shoulder, reading the screen.

"What's all that mean?" he asked.

Sarah typed in a quick response.

hold a minute

OK

Sarah looked up at Chuck. "The first line is about you."

" I kinda figured that," he said.

"You're on the intelligence community's radar. You've been identified as missing in action and you're considered a high value asset. Most likely because of the DOD project."

"And she thinks I'm cute?" Chuck asked.

Carina let out a laugh from behind them. "See, Walker."

"What's the rest mean?" Chuck said.

Sarah cleared her throat and felt the whisper of jealousy she experienced a moment ago raise its head again. "She wants to meet you when this is all over."

"Oh," Chuck said with a little choking sound. "Ah … and the second thing?"

"'WTF' … well, you can probably figure that out. It looks like the CIA has confirmed that there are RGB assassins in Seattle. They don't know who the target is, but Zondra thinks it's probably you."

Chuck let out a sigh. "That would explain the attacks."

"It might explain the attack at the university, but not the one in your loft. If they were sent to kill you, why try to take you."

Chuck scratched his head and just nodded.

"And she's checked out my boss. There's nothing to indicate he's involved."

"Sarah, I'm so glad," Chuck said. "I know that was stressing you out."

"Yeah. It's good news."

Sarah turned back to the computer and typed.

thanks riz, I'll be in touch

WAIT!

?

something else, important, too hard to explain here, any way for scrambled comm?

no resources here, burner phone, leg's pc, can't secure

What's going on?" Chuck asked.

Carina had been looking over Sarah's other shoulder for a while and answered. "She's asking if there's a way to set-up an untraceable, encrypted communication link between her and us. Either by phone, or computer. But a burner phone isn't secure enough and my computer's IP address isn't hidden."

"I can set that up," Chuck said.

Both Carina and Sarah stared at Chuck.

hold tight, Sarah typed.

"Explain," Sarah said to Chuck.

"I … have skills," Chuck said, sheepishly.

Carina let out a belly laugh. "Can you spell double entendre?" she said.

"Not helping, Miller," Sarah groused.

"I can create a scrambled communication link. Basically, I'll setup an encrypted virtual private network. The VPN will bounce the data around all over the world and hide this IP address so no one can track anything back here," Chuck explained. "You can communicate via text or audio. Video too, but that's really data intensive and the latency factor would be too difficult to compensate for … unless I-"

Sarah interrupted. "How long to set that up."

"Five minutes. Just tell her to go to this URL in ten minutes," Chuck said as he grabbed a pen and a piece of paper off Carina's desk and scrawled out the web address. "It's one of my personal sites with AV conferencing built in. You'll be able to talk securely to each other like you were on a phone."

Sarah sent the explanation to Zondra and then logged out of the chat room. She switched places with Chuck and watched in awe as his fingers flew over the keyboard. Windows popped up, text flashed, code scrolled and in a few minutes Chuck had opened a browser to a simple web page with an icon of a set of headphones in the middle. She shook her head and smiled to herself. Always surprising her.

"Now we just need to wait for Zondra to log in," he said.

"Nicely done, Dr. Bartowski, Carina said.

Sarah froze and noticed Chuck had too. They'd never told Carina anything about Chuck other than his first name. But somehow, she'd figured out who he was. She turned toward Carina and knew her face was hot with anger.

"Woah, Walker. Down girl." Carina said, holding up her hands. "A little web research and it wasn't that hard to figure out who he is. It's not like he's a spy or something." She looked at Chuck. "You're definitely better looking in person, Chuckles."

Sarah continued to glare at her.

"Hey," Carina protested, "I was interested. I was curious. Can't blame a girl."

Sarah blew out a hard breath. "Goddammit, Carina. Not cool."

"Come on, Walker, you know I'm secure. And I've figured out the rest, even if you haven't. Hands off, I promise."

Sarah shot a covert glance at Chuck. He looked totally confused. That was good. She didn't have time to deal with Chuck and Carina and feelings, along with everything else right now.

The computer beeped and everyone turned to the screen.

"She's here," Chuck said. He worked the keyboard again and then said, "Hello there. Is this Zondra?"

There was a pause and then an annoyed voice came over the monitor's built in speaker, "Who the fuck is this?"

"Ah … this is Chuck."

"Oh, for the love of god. Blondie, are you there? Confirm?"

Sarah leaned toward the monitor's microphone. "Yeah, I'm here," she said and then rattled off their coded date.

Zondra did the same.

"Are we secure?" Zondra asked, "or is the entire fucking town listening in."

"Secure," Sarah said. "Me, Carina and Chuck."

"Sarah, you need to tell me what the hell's really going on," Zondra said. "I'm committing treason by just talking to you."

Both Chuck and Carina gave Sarah a confused look. Sarah frowned and shrugged her shoulders.

"What are you talking about?" Sarah asked.

"Shit, girl. The feds are looking for you and your boy-toy. You're both suspected of stealing top secret government information, possibly to sell to a foreign government. I don't have clearance to get the details, but I got that much," Zondra said.

Sarah stared at the monitor, speechless. She wished she could see Zondra's face, see her expression to know if she was serious or not. She didn't make any sense. This wasn't possible.

"We're not traitors," Sarah blurted out. "People are trying to kill us. We're trying to hide. That's why we're here. You have to believe me."

"I believe you. That's why I'm willing to risk my career - and a long jail sentence - to talk to you. What kinda shit pile did you step into?"

Sarah's head was spinning. She didn't have an answer.

"Riz," Carina said, "what intel do you have?"

"Hey, Miller," Zondra said. "That's all I've got. I know that the FBI, Homeland and Seattle PD have been notified on the QT and BOLO's were issued. I wish I could tell you more."

Chuck cleared his throat. "Ah … this is Chuck … again. Is there any way you can help us?" he asked.

"I'm just an analyst. Got no pull." There was a pause, then Zondra said, "You've put my girl in the crosshairs. She gets hurt, I won't forget."

Sarah heard the frustrated menace in Zondra's voice. Before Chuck could respond, Sarah said, "It's not his fault, Riz."

"Girl, this is fucked up," Zondra replied. "He'd better be worth it."

Sarah looked at Chuck.

He is. But she didn't give voice to her thought.

"Is there someone else in the CIA that can help us?" Chuck asked, obviously frustrated but undeterred by Zondra's thinly veiled threat.

"Help you? Hell, the CIA wants to lock-up your ass," Zondra replied.

"That's not an option," Sarah said. She'd taken a breath and regained her focus. "People are trying to kill Chuck," she said, her words tumbling out quickly. "People high enough in the game to spin some bullshit that we're traitors within a couple of hours after Chuck left his work. If we get caught, they'll separate us. I won't be able to protect him. They'll isolate him. People with that much power will be able to get to him. They'll kill him."

"No shit," Zondra said.

"You can't trust anyone," Carina said.

A depressing silence fell among them. Sarah looked blankly at the computer monitor, wishing some type of solution would magically appear on the screen.

"What about your captain?" Zondra asked, breaking the silence. "He checks out. No flags anywhere — financial, family, acquaintances, work, history — nothing. He's a real boy scout. Retired Marine Corps colonel. Special forces. A straight arrow. "

"Can't contact him," Sarah said. "With bad guys this powerful, all his comm channels are most likely tapped. That's probably how they found us at the university."

"We can do the same thing with Casey that we're doing with Zondra," Chuck said, matter-of-factly.

Sarah and Carina stared at Chuck — again.

"Remember," he said, holding up his hands and wriggling his fingers, "…skills."

Carina laughed. "Ooooh, I love it when you talk dirty."

This time Sarah didn't feel frustrated. Instead, she felt a hint of relief.

"Thanks, Riz," Sarah said. "We're gonna try to contact my boss."

"Good luck," Zondra said. "And Chuck, you better watch her back."

Chuck looked up at Sarah and smiled. "Got it covered."

Chapter Text

Chuck closed the browser, ending the audio session with Zondra. His fingers started dancing across the keyboard, doing their magic again. A sense of power and confidence filled him. This was his strength. He was the grand master, the computer his easel, the code his creation — beautiful and enigmatic.

He and Sarah were a team and it was time for him to pull his weight. He glanced up at Sarah. She was smiling at him. One of her magical Sarah Walker smiles that went all the way to her eyes.

"How is this going to work?" Carina asked.

"I'll create another VPN. We get Casey to go to another URL which will redirect him to this page. It'll work the same way as it did with Zondra," Chuck explained.

"But how do we to get the URL to him?" Sarah asked.

"I was thinking about that," Chuck said. "Do you remember his phone number?"

"Yeah," Sarah said.

"We text him some type of generic message with the URL. You'll need to word it so he'll know the message is from you, but anyone monitoring won't."

"You mean, like all the spam texts I get from people trying to sell me shit?" Carina said.

"Exactly," Chuck replied.

"What if someone's tapped his phone and they get suspicious and check out the URL? Won't they be able to listen in on the conversation?" Sarah asked.

"In a way, yes," Chuck said. "They could intercept the audio data packets, download them and run them through an audio compiler to make a recording of the conversation."

Carina huffed out a breath. "Then what the hell good will that do. They may not be able to see my IP address, but they'll know what we know. And they'll know that Casey knows." She turned to Sarah. "Your only advantage right now is that no one knows how much information you have. You can't tip your hand by talking with your boss."

Chuck sat quietly as Carina outlined the obvious problem. But he was already five steps ahead of her. He felt his lips curl into a smile as Sarah glanced at him. For a moment she looked surprised. Then she smiled, too.

"I have a feeling that isn't going to be a problem," Sarah said.

"Huh?" Carina said.

Chuck jumped in. "I'll setup the page so anyone who goes to the URL has to log in with a password. That's the only way the audio data packets will stream through their browser." He looked at Sarah. "Is there some way you can communicate a password to Casey by some innuendo, or hint, or … I don't know … some sort of cop ESP."

Sarah thought for a moment. Then her smile widened. "Yeah. I've got this."

"Okay, so let's say that works. There's still a problem," Carina said. "The Feds have the world's best tracking hardware and software. If you text Casey, they'll follow your pings and back-track the cell towers until they find the originating tower on the island."

"Not if I setup a text messaging app and run it from my site through the VPN," Chuck said.

"You can do that?" Sarah said.

Chuck gave her a pained expression. "Please," he said. "Nerd," and pointed at himself.

"Damn," Carina said. "You need to stop. I'm getting all hot and bothered."

Chuck looked at Carina. Her grin was wide. He was starting to understand her sense of humor and he laughed.

Leaning over the keyboard Chuck's fingers performed their magic ministrations once more. After a couple of minutes he said, "It's ready." He looked at Sarah. "We need a message that does two things. First, convinces Casey the message is from you. Second, gives him a clue to the password."

Sarah nodded. "Already done," she said. "Here's the message."

Chuck keyed in Casey's phone number, then entered the message in the text box as Sarah dictated it to him.

No respect? Not feeling the love? Don't be a pencil necked nerd. Familiarize yourself with the chain of command. For vital information go to (Chuck entered the URL). Any little shit can access the secrets hidden there.

Chuck finished typing, but before he sent the message he gave Sarah a questioning look.

"Don't ask," she said. "Send it. He's smart. He'll figure it out."

Chuck clicked the send button and they sat back to wait.

They didn't have to wait long.

In less than a minute the computer monitor beeped and Chuck clicked on the head phone icon. Before either of them could say a word a gruff voice came over the speakers. "Hello? Hello? Anybody there? Goddammit, Walker, this better be you."

The relief Chuck saw on Sarah's face mirrored how he felt inside. She leaned anxiously toward the monitor.

"Yes, sir. I'm here."

"Well, I'll be damned. This is impressive, Walker."

"It was Chuck's idea. He set it up," Sarah said.

There was a pause, then Casey said, "Sounds like we still need to have that conversation, Detective."

"Roger that, sir."

"Where are you?"

Sarah hesitated as she glanced at Carina who was shaking her head vigorously and mouthing, NO.

"We're secure, sir."

Another pause.

"You're in a world of hurt, Walker."

"We know."

"How's that?"

"Had a friend do some digging." Sarah's face hardened. "We're not traitors, sir."

"I know that. But everyone else wants your head on a block. They think you either kidnapped the nerd or turned him and now he's running with you."

"We had to run. We didn't have an option."

"Why didn't you wait for my team at the university?" Casey asked.

"Two hitters came after us in the parking lot. Shots fired in the student union. If it hadn't been for Chuck, they'd have caught us and killed us."

"Shit," Casey snarled.

"Not sure how they found us," Sarah said. "We couldn't surface after that."

"Smart move," Casey said. He paused for a beat, then said, "You thought it was me, didn't you. Either I sent them, or my comms were compromised."

Sarah swallowed and sighed. "After the university attack and the fight in Chuck's loft, it wasn't safe to come in. Couldn't trust anyone. And it could have been our phones, or my car."

"You're right," Casey said.

"About what?" Sarah asked.

"We found your car," Casey said. "I had it checked. It was bugged. GPS tracker attached to the frame."

"Son of a …" Chuck stopped the curse short.

"God dammit, Walker. Numb-nuts is in the room?" Casey growled.

"He's still my package," Sarah growled right back at him. "Did you find out anything at Chuck's loft?"

"It was a shit-show," Casey said. "While my team was on the way to grab you and the nerd, I went to his place. By the time I got there the DOD had the scene locked down. SPD couldn't even stand on the sidewalk. I called Graham. He called Beckman. About one in the morning Graham got an invite to a meeting with Beckman. I got dragged along because I'm your boss."

Chuck burst in. "You mean Beckman knows what's going on? She knows why I'm not there? Can she help us?"

Casey scoffed. "Hell, Beckman's the reason you two are most wanted right now."

"What?" Chuck said. He knew Diane Beckman well enough to know she'd never think he'd betray her or the company, or the country for that matter.

"Beckman read me and Graham in on the project because she wanted our help to find you two. She told Graham they thought Walker could be some type of spy. They sent a team to the nerd's place to grab you guys. Instead of you two they found four bodies. They won't let SPD in on this, so I have no idea who you killed, Walker."

"This makes no sense," Sarah said. "How did I go from bodyguard and cop to spy and traitor in a couple of hours?"

"That was my question," Casey said. "Beckman and the big wigs in the room said they'd acquired actionable intel late that afternoon, but they wouldn't share it with me and Graham."

"Big wigs?" Sarah asked.

"Yeah. Supposedly Beckman and these two other guys are the decision makers on this DOD project. A stick-up-his-ass general named Stansfield and some GQ, frat boy type named Daniel Blackbrier."

Chuck heard both Sarah and Carina take in sharp breaths at the exact same instance. They snapped their heads to each other. The room was silent as a tomb.

"Walker? You there?" Casey said.

"Ah … something's happening here," Chuck said. "Just a second."

"What the hell?" Casey said. "Who said you could talk, doc?

Sarah had told Chuck that she trusted Casey, and that was good enough for him. But he hadn't warmed to Casey's interrogation style of communication and he finally let his irritation out. "Cool your jets, Captain."

"Huh," Casey grunted. "Nerd's got some huevos."

There was silence again.

Chuck looked back and forth between Carina and Sarah. Finally he said, "Sarah, what's wrong?"

Sarah turned to look at him. She hesitated, as if trying to regain her focus, then said, "Blackbrier - we know that name."

"What do you mean, you know the name. You guys know someone else named Blackbrier?" Chuck asked.

"Blackbrier," Sarah explained, "was the code name for a package on a protective detail we worked together."

Chuck caught the glare Carina gave Sarah. Then she turned to Chuck. "It was THE package," Carina said. "In Beirut. Blackbrier was the name we used over comms to refer to … Daniel Shaw."

Chuck looked at Sarah. She was staring at the floor now, completely still.

"For the love of all that's holy," Casey's voice was loud over the monitor's speakers. "Walker, is this the guy you lost and the reason you quit the Service?"

Sarah seemed to not have heard his question. She looked up at Carina. "He's dead," she said, her voice flat.

"But John's description fits him," Carina responded.

Casey cut in. "Hells bells. Walker, is that Carina Miller with you."

Chuck watched Carina smile and she responded to Casey before Sarah could. "Hi, John. It's me. Been too long."

"Well," Casey said, "now I know where you are." He cleared his throat. "Uh … hello Carina. We should … ah … catch up later."

"Damn right," Carina agreed. "But right now we need to deal with this coincidence."

"There's no such thing as a coincidence," Casey grunted. "I want to know if this is the same guy."

Sarah seemed to have recovered from her shock and said, "He can't be. Daniel Shaw is dead."

"I don't care what you think, Detective. I only care what you know," Casey said. "Was there a body? Did someone in authority pronounce him dead?"

"No," Sarah said. "He was missing, then presumed dead."

"I want to know if this Blackbrier jackwad is the same guy you think is dead," Casey said.

"Do you have a photo you can send us," Chuck asked.

"Sure, Bartowski," Casey said sarcastically, "I just popped out my phone and told everyone in a top secret meeting to say cheese for the camera."

"Wait a minute. I think I know how we can do this," Carina said. She spun her wheel chair around and shot over to a bookshelf. She got a large binder and brought it to the desk. When she opened it Chuck saw that it was a photo album. Both he and Sarah flanked Carina, watching as she flipped through the pages.

"What's going on," Casey asked.

"Hold you horses, John," Carina said.

A frustrated grunt came through the speakers.

Carina flipped past another couple of pages and then stopped, tapping her finger triumphantly on a picture. "That's me, Sarah, Zondra and Amy," Carina said. "We were the Secret Service team for Shaw." She pointed at a spot on the photo. "Chuck, look here."

Chuck leaned in close. Sarah, Carina and two other women stood side by side, arms linked around each other's waist, smiling at the camera. It looked like they were in a hotel lobby. He scanned the photo more closely and suddenly jerked back in shock. Off to the side, in the background talking to someone, was a face he knew.

Chuck pointed to the man in the photo. "That's Daniel Blackbrier."

He looked up. Both Carina and Sarah were staring at each other, their faces grim.

"Somebody want to tell me what the hell's going on?" Casey asked.

"It's him," Sarah said. "Blackbrier and Shaw are the same person."

Chapter Text

Chuck watched Sarah's face change from surprise to shock. She took a step back.

"But … that can't be possible," Sarah said. She looked lost as she stared at the photo on the desk. "He's dead." She turned away. "I … I need …," she didn't finish. She walked quickly to the door, pulled it open and stepped into the hallway.

Chuck's heart jumped into his throat. "Sarah!" he shouted after her.

He stood and whirled toward the door to follow her. Carina spun her chair around and moved to block him. He stared down at her, every cell in his body vibrating.

"Let her go, Chuck," Carina said, her face calm, in control.

"But-"

"She just needs some time alone. To think. To regroup. She's a tough cookie. She'll be okay."

It took every ounce of will power Chuck could muster to keep from pushing past Carina to go to Sarah. He didn't want her to be alone. Not after this revelation. But he stepped back, sat in the chair, stared at the floor and took a couple of deep breaths.

"John, we'll get back to you," Carina said.

"Wait a second," Casey said. "Write this phone number down. It's a burner. Tell Walker to call me with her burner. Then we won't have to deal with this computer crap."

"Okay. I'll let her know, Carina said.

"Captain Casey," Chuck said.

"Hmmm?" Casey grunted.

"Thank you."

"You better be worth it," Casey growled and ended the connection.

Chuck considered Casey's words. Zondra had said the same thing. It was obvious that Sarah Walker was important to them, more so than they would probably say out loud. He could relate to that, more than he wanted to admit. It was also clear that if they were in charge they'd have Sarah bring him in so she could wash her hands of the whole situation and get out of the line of fire. He'd probably end up dead if that was the case, because he was just a package and him getting assassinated was better than their friend getting killed.

But Sarah was still with him. Even though she could bring him in and clear her name and leave behind the job that her captain had forced her into, she hadn't. He swallowed hard, realizing that he owed her a debt he could never repay, even if he tried for the rest of his life.

Chuck brought his thoughts back to the room. He looked at Carina. "If Blackbrier is Shaw, then … what the hell's going on? Why wouldn't he let people know he'd survived — that he was alive? Why would he change his name?"

"Can't be sure. But there are some possibilities," Carina said.

Chuck looked at her expectantly.

"He could have been released — that's been known to happen. He didn't want to be identified by the US and detained and interrogated and maybe even kept in isolation for years. Or maybe he escaped. To avoid recapture he goes underground. Either way, he changes his identity, resurfaces some time later, starts a new life."

Chuck nodded thoughtfully.

"Or," Carina continued, "he could have been turned. He could be working for a foreign government, a terrorist organization or some other entity. The fact that all hell breaks loose as your project nears completion and then Daniel Shaw rises from the dead and has been integrally connected to said project for a long time … well, that's one hell of a coincidence."

"You think he might be a spy?" Chuck said.

"Maybe. Maybe not. But something's going on and I'll bet you dollars to doughnuts Shaw's involved."

Chuck thought back to all the interactions he'd had with Daniel Blackbrier over the past year. Daniel had always been outgoing, chatty, almost smarmy. But Chuck had never felt a hint of malice from him. Maybe that was because he was good at hiding it under his semi-obnoxious personality. Maybe Daniel's plan all along had been to kill Chuck to stop the project. But why wait until the project was almost finished and risk it becoming operational? Why not derail it early on? Daniel could have easily created so many road blocks and problems without anyone knowing, the project would have eventually been abandoned.

"There's something else I didn't tell you about Beirut," Carina said, cutting into Chuck's thoughts. "It wasn't relevant when we talked. But now … well, I think you need to know."

Chuck brought his eyes to hers.

Carina's expression was soft, but serious. "Sarah and Daniel … they were lovers."

It took a couple of heartbeats for Chuck to register what Carina had said. He ran the words over in his mind, simple but profound. The words stung.

And then, a moment later, his brain kicked in and did the math. The implications became clear.

"Holy …," he breathed out, letting the thought hang. "That's like … crossing the line for a bodyguard."

Carina nodded. "The cardinal rule of unspoken rules. Never have feelings for the package. Feelings make you weak, compromise your objectivity, cause you to make mistakes."

"No wonder Sarah has all this guilt."

"Yeah."

"Shit," Chuck said, blowing out a breath. "And now someone she loved … loves …, someone she thought was dead, has literally come back from the grave. That has to really mess with her."

Carina frowned. "I don't know if she loved him. But I can tell you this, Daniel Shaw was incapable of loving anyone or anything other than himself and his reputation. He was … is … a sanctimonious son of a bitch." She spat out the last words.

"They were lovers — lots of sex — and I think she wanted to love him," Carina said. "But that's where Walker and I are different. Sex and love don't necessarily go together for me. Life's too short. I like to keep my options open, to have fun." Carina raised an eyebrow and smiled. "You and I could have had a lot of fun, Chuckles."

Chuck felt his face heat up and knew he was blushing.

"But Sarah, she's old school," Carina continued without skipping a beat. "She's not into casual relationships. When she cares about someone, she goes all-in. She loves me and Zondra. I even think she cares about her curmudgeon of a boss. And that means she'll do anything for us. No matter what."

Carina shook her head and sighed. "That's why the whole Shaw fiasco was so hard on her. When he got shot and taken, she blamed herself for being distracted by the relationship. When we couldn't find him, she felt she'd failed him all over again. As soon as the internal investigation cleared her, she quit."

Chuck picked apart this new information. Sarah's brief disclosure of what happened in Beirut, and then Carina's detailed version shared yesterday, had explained why Sarah hadn't wanted this job and why she got so stressed out with him. But add in the relationship piece of this story and it became crystal clear to Chuck why Sarah's reactions and emotions were so intense and how the stress of this assignment must be off-the-charts. He'd seen the impact of that stress on her. Now that her ex-lover — the person she felt responsible for having been taken, tortured and killed — was alive, it must be tearing her up inside.

"What I can do to help her?" Chuck asked.

"That's the problem," Carina said.

Chuck looked at her, confused.

"She's right back where she was in Beirut. She's afraid it's going to happen all over again," Carina said.

Chuck's brain spun the pieces around and lined them up. "You're talking about … me. I'm the problem," he said.

"Cute, and brains." Carina sighed and said, "I knew Walker before Beirut. Then we worked the same detail, side by side, for over a year. I know her better than she knows herself. And the reality is, Sarah's falling for you. And she's only now beginning to realize it."

Chuck's throat tightened, but he couldn't look away from Carina.

"Like I said, you're a smart guy. And you know the same thing's happening to you. I saw you guys when you got back from town. Holding hands can be way more intimate than sex."

That made him force his gaze away. She was right, at least about him. And if she was right about Sarah … well, he didn't know what to do about that.

"But what about the cardinal rule of all rules?" he said.

"If it was me, I'd say, screw it. Life's too short," Carina said. "But Walker's a different story. The last time she let herself cross that line, it ruined her life."

Sarah hurried out of Carina's room. Her mind fought to make sense of what had just happened. She walked down the hallway in a daze. Guilt and grief slammed through her, as heavy and cutting as five years ago. She looked at her trembling hands. They seemed distant, unattached, like they belonged to someone else. A thick, cloying cold filled her from the inside out. Her thoughts raced searching for something to grab onto, something tangible, something real and not this horror story that was unfolding in front of her.

Daniel Shaw was alive.

He's dead. He has to be dead.

Maybe Chuck was wrong. Daniel had been in the background of the photo, hard to make out. But Chuck hadn't hesitated. He was positive that the man in the picture, the man she knew as Daniel Shaw, was the man he knew as Daniel Blackbrier.

She looked up and realized she'd climbed the stairs to their room on autopilot. She reached for the door handle and paused. Chuck wasn't close to her. But he was okay. He'd be safe with Carina for a while. She just needed some time to think. Sarah entered the room and made her way onto the balcony. She leaned her back against the railing and slid down to the deck, hugging her knees to her chest.

If Blackbrier was Shaw, why hadn't he contacted her? Why hadn't he let her know he was alive. He obviously hadn't contacted the Secret Service or anyone else in the government, because she would have been notified immediately if he had. She deserved that — deserved to know he was alive. But, in reality, Daniel didn't owe her anything. It was her fault that he'd been taken. It was her fault his life had been destroyed. He probably hated her. If she deserved anything, it was his hatred.

Sarah had worked for months on the team tasked with finding Shaw. She'd gone days without food or sleep, the guilt and self-blame pushing her to exhaustion. When the search was officially cancelled she'd grieved his capture. She'd known the most likely scenario was that he was being interrogated and tortured. Almost two years later, when his family had given up hope, she'd traveled from Seattle to Virginia to attend the funeral they'd held. She'd sat alone in the back of the church where no one could see her shame and her tears. She'd mourned him then, for months. And even though that grief had finally eased and almost disappeared, there hadn't been a day gone by in the past five years that she hadn't thought of her failure and the cost it had born.

Sarah thought she'd loved Daniel — at least at one point. But she'd been younger, inexperienced in relationships and she'd never been sure what love really looked like. She still wasn't.

Daniel had been handsome and charming, and he'd paid attention to her. Their romance had flared, hot and passionate. When she wasn't on duty and he was free, they'd spent nights — and even some days — in bed together, the sex intense and physical. He'd made all the right moves and said all the right things and Sarah had relished the feeling of being swept off her feet.

The other agents on the detail had known about the relationship, but they'd stayed quiet. The unspoken code was that you didn't throw a teammate under the bus.

But near the end — near the time when Daniel had been shot and captured — Sarah had begun to question whether they were in a real relationship or just having a long-term, torrid affair. Daniel had never really opened up to her, never really shared who he was or what his dreams and aspirations were. That's when they started to fight. Sarah wanted to know more and share more, to take their relationship to a deeper level. But Daniel would have none of that.

After their fights Daniel would come to her with an expensive piece of jewelry, an apology and a burning passion that would ignite her own desire. They'd make up and make love. But then, in a few days, it happened all over again. Sarah hadn't wanted the gifts. She'd wanted Daniel — to know him, and for him to know her.

Sarah had shoved all the jewelry in a box. After Daniel's funeral she'd anonymously sent the box to his parents. That had been her symbolic closure of the relationship with Daniel. But it hadn't lessened the guilt, nor absolved her of the consequences of her failure to do her job and keep him safe. Sarah knew those would haunt her for the rest of her life.

But now, things were different. Daniel Shaw was alive. And though she was still responsible for his capture and whatever unholy torment he'd endured, she hadn't gotten him killed. She focused on that thought. Daniel was alive. She wasn't responsible for his death. If there was such a thing as divine reprieve, Sarah was sure this must be it.

At that thought, Sarah felt a renewed strength flowing through her. She clasped her hands together and stilled their trembling. The chill of fear and doubt receded and the fog in her brain cleared. Freak out time was over. She was a cop. And more than that, today, she was a bodyguard. She had someone to protect — someone worth protecting. It was time to get back in the saddle.

Sarah stood, dusting off her jeans and the sleeves of her jacket. Her mind was spinning again, not with horrific disbelief, but with the precision and focus of a trained federal agent and police detective.

Shaw was alive. He had been a key individual working for the past year on the top-secret DOD project with the South Korean government. And now the lead scientist on that project — no, not just the lead scientist, the keystone to the entire project — was being hunted by North Korean assassins. Somehow Shaw was involved. She just didn't know how. But she needed to find out.

There was a silver lining to this shit show. Finally, Sarah had something to work with. Shaw was the key to figuring this all out, she was sure of it. She couldn't be positive if Beckman and Stansfield were involved, or if they had just been stooged by Shaw.

Yesterday she'd felt overwhelmed and powerless. Now, armed with this new this information — even as emotionally racking as it was — she felt back in control. She was a cop, a detective. And a good one. She knew how to chase down leads, analyze information and catch criminals. That was what she did.

She and Chuck might still get out of this alive. And if they did … when they did … she couldn't fathom him not being in her life in some way. She'd just have to figure out what that looked like when the time came.

Maybe Carina was right. Maybe she was falling for Chuck. Now that she'd just relived her relationship with Shaw, she could compare it with her interactions with Chuck over the past two days. The difference between the two men was like night and day. In the past forty-eight hours Chuck had shared more of himself than Daniel had in ten months. He'd shown more concern and compassion than Daniel ever had. And … he'd been willing to die to save her. Sarah's throat tightened at that particular memory.

Sarah thought she'd loved Daniel. Yet, during this short time with Chuck, something infinitely more powerful and real had begun to stir deep inside her. She didn't know if it was love. But maybe she needed to find out.

Chapter Text

Chuck waited in Carina's room, giving Sarah some privacy to deal with the bomb that had just been dropped on her. As Carina revealed the details of Sarah's past, pieces of the puzzle that was Sarah Walker began to fall into place.

Chuck knew what it was like to lose love. When he'd lost Jill … no, he hadn't lost her, she'd left him … he'd been devastated. But Jill had made a choice to be with someone else. She'd decided to stop loving him. Things didn't get any clearer than that. It took years before he'd been able to go an entire day without thinking of Jill and feeling the pain caused by the vacuum she'd left in his life. Eventually he'd come to terms with the fact that she didn't love him any longer. That was the point where he'd been able to stop loving her.

But for Sarah it had to be worse. Daniel hadn't left her — he'd been taken from her. Chuck wasn't sure if he agreed with Carina, that Sarah might not have loved Daniel. He'd been her lover, her partner, her center. When he'd been ripped from her life he hadn't dumped her for someone else. He must have loved Sarah in some way and she had probably loved him. Where Jill had closed the door to their love, neither Daniel nor Sarah had done so with theirs. Now Daniel was back — alive and well.

No matter what reasons Daniel had for hiding from her, Sarah still had to feel something for him. Chuck had come to know Daniel. He was handsome and smart and dashing. He certainly didn't have problems with women — he probably had to fight them off. Chuck was certain that Daniel Blackbrier was a man that a woman could not easily forget.

He couldn't blame Sarah if she still had feelings for Daniel. If Carina was right and Sarah had feelings for Chuck, and if Daniel's reappearance changed how Sarah felt about Chuck, that would just have to be okay. If Sarah needed time and space to work through her feelings about Daniel, he'd give her those. And if all Sarah could offer was friendship instead of something more, he'd accept that.

Chuck considered the litany of crap he'd just crammed down his own throat.

That's all bullshit, Bartowski. You need to fight for her.

With a new-found purpose Chuck got up and went to find Sarah. It had been a half hour since she'd left. He checked the Inn's portico first. Not finding her there he went up to their room. When he entered he saw Sarah standing outside on the balcony.

He made his way quietly to the love seat, not wanting to intrude. He closed his eyes and leaned back to wait. He'd wait as long as it took.

It wasn't long before he heard the glass door slide open and close. He opened his eyes to see Sarah walking toward him.

"How long have you been here?" Sarah asked.

Chuck looked at his watch. "Ten minutes. I didn't want to bug you."

Sarah started to sit next to him and he scooted sideways to make room.

"Sorry about … losing it," she said.

"No worries."

"Thanks for giving me some space."

"Sure," he said. "You got blind-sided. Kinda sucks."

"Yeah," she said, rolling her eyes. "Surprise, surprise."

Chuck watched Sarah fidget in her seat, glancing down at her hands, then back up at him. The blue of her eyes was darker and deeper in the early afternoon light sifting in through the windows. Her blond waves cascaded down around her cheeks and over her shoulders. Her expression was hard to read, but he could tell something simmered just below the surface. He knew he'd find out what it was eventually. But right now he needed to start fighting for what he wanted.

"I know you have history with Shaw," he said gently. "Carina told me."

Sarah looked at her hands. "I'm glad you know," she said.

After a beat Chuck said, "I've been thinking. You shouldn't feel like anything is holding you back from working through things with him. You loved him. You thought he was dead. But he's not."

"Oh," Sarah said, looking a little surprised.

She edged away from him, leaning back against the arm of the loveseat. Chuck watched as Sarah's demeanor changed, her expression growing pensive.

Sarah looked down at her hands again. "There was a time when I thought I was in love with Daniel," she said. "But now I realize what I felt wasn't love."

She grew quiet for a few moments, then took in deep breath and blew it out slowly. "I know that's true because in the last two days I've felt more than I ever did with Daniel. In just 48 hours you've given more of yourself to me than he ever did." She looked up at Chuck. "I'm not sure what this all means."

Chuck sat silent, stunned. This was not what he'd been expecting. He hadn't had a chance to tell Sarah how he felt. She'd beat him to it - at least, it seemed that way.

After a while Sarah sighed. "I understand that you want me to be able to work this through with Daniel, to try and see-"

Chuck cut her off. "I didn't say that's what I wanted. I said that's what I thought." He locked eyes with her, steeling his resolve. He knew it was now or never. Chuck leaned forward and took both of Sarah's hands in his. "What I want is this," he said and held up their clasped hands. "What I want is you."

"Wow." Sarah's voice was breathless. "Carina was right. You sure know how to sweet-talk a girl."

Sarah's pulse skipped a beat at Chuck's declaration. Her heart swelled in her chest. Emotion tightened her throat — relief, hope, joy. Chuck's words were simple and honest — just like him. She knew they were true. She knew exactly how he felt, knew it down into her marrow. Because she'd finally admitted to herself that she felt the same toward him. Sarah knew she'd crossed the Rubicon. There was no going back now. That was fine with her. She didn't want to go back.

Sarah stared at Chuck's large hands holding her smaller ones. They were gentle and warm. They made her feel safe. They told her she wasn't alone. His hands around hers declared that he would pay any price for her. He'd already proved that.

Lifting her gaze, Sarah was once again lost deep within Chuck's dark brown eyes. And this time she didn't need to surface.

Chuck gently pulled Sarah to him, their hands between their chests as they sat pressed against each other. Heat from his body washed over her. He smelled of fresh soap and coffee and a comfortable, familiar scent she'd come to know as uniquely Chuck. His eyes dropped to her lips. She couldn't keep hers from dropping to his. He was going to kiss her. And she wanted it. Wanted it more than anything she could ever remember wanting. Her body tingled at the thought of his lips on hers.

"I want to kiss you now," Chuck said as he moved his lips toward hers. "A real kiss this time."

"I'd like that," she whispered.

Sarah's hands slipped from his. Chuck cupped her cheek, his hand warm, his fingertips bringing her skin to life. Sarah pushed into his touch, relishing it. He leaned down and brushed his lips across hers, barely touching, lingering for a few heart beats. His breath was hot against her mouth, his lips soft, his kiss tender. This was the Chuck she'd come to know. Gentle, caring, special.

He slowly pulled back until their eyes met again. "I've thought a lot about doing that," Chuck said, his voice gravelly and low.

"Me, too."

"I'm glad."

Sarah snaked an arm up and around Chuck's neck. "Don't stop," she said and eased him to her.

Their lips met and parted, then met and parted again, dancing together as if they'd never known another partner. The magnetism Sarah had felt the evening before welled up, pulling her into him. The contentment she'd felt bloomed in her chest once more. It ebbed and flowed, spreading wonder through every part of her. In its wake something followed. A yearning. Powerful and unfamiliar. Thrilling and frightening. Feelings which Chuck awakened from deep within her. Feelings she couldn't control. That scared her. Her breath caught and her body trembled.

Chuck pulled back, his eyes concerned. He brought his other hand to her face. "Are you okay?"

Sarah nodded. "I think so. I want this. It's just … a lot."

Relief washed over Chuck's face. "Yeah, it is."

Chuck leaned his head down, bringing his forehead to hers. Sarah sighed and they stayed like that for a while. She felt her anxiety receding, her desire growing once more.

After a bit Sarah said, "This may sound silly …"

"What?" Chuck said.

"I … want to hold you. And I want you to hold me. I just don't know how to do that without hurting each other."

Chuck let out a soft laugh and kissed her gently on the nose. The gesture was casual, comfortable, relaxed, as if he'd been doing it for years. She hadn't expected it, but liked it, a lot.

"I've got an idea," Chuck said.

"Humm?"

"Follow my lead."

With that he pulled back and turned away from Sarah, facing forward in the love seat. He leaned back and then lightly grasped Sarah's arms. He prodded her to move, steering her with his hands. She rose and he brought her in front of him.

"Straddle my lap. You can rest your weight on your arms on the back of the love seat," he said.

Sarah blinked, then smiled. His idea was brilliant. Without uttering a word she put one knee beside his thigh, then the other. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the loveseat's back and laced her fingers behind Chuck's neck. Although she was sore with the movement, the pain was minimal as there was no pressure on her ribs because there was no contact between their chests. Sarah considered that for a moment. That was a problem that would have to be remedied in the future, as soon as they'd healed enough. She lowered her head and kissed Chuck's nose as he had just kissed hers. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her waist, gently pulling her down onto his lap. She felt his desire for her pressing against her core, an unanticipated side benefit of Chuck's solution. Her own desire simmered deep inside her.

"How's this?" Chuck asked.

Memories flashed of when Chuck had first seen her Porsche, and then when he'd met Carina. She felt the sly smile that curved her lips. "Nice ride," she said, her voice low.

Chuck's eyes bored into hers. "Thanks," he said, the gravel back in his voice. "I like it."

Sarah leaned down, moving her lips to his ear. "What's not to like," she whispered.

Then Chuck's lips where on hers. Hot, demanding, glorious. Sarah met his insistence with her own, her tongue exploring, caressing. His hands tightened on her waist as his tongue pushed back, giving and receiving all at once.

The kiss deepened. Not frantic, but fierce. Not intense, but consuming. Sarah could feel Chuck channeling every want, every desire into the kiss — not holding back, no conditions. Just who he was and what he felt. Just the truth. And his truth filled her. It made her feel safe. It made her feel whole. It gave her the courage to let go and pour herself into the kiss, into him.

Sarah's body hummed as their lips collided and their tongues dueled. Desire and need enveloped every part of her. She ground her hips into Chuck, relishing in the effect her body had on his. Chuck slid his hands under the hem of her top, caressing bare skin along the small of her back, sending sparks of excitement up her spine. This was right. They were right. She wanted this.

Sarah pulled back and they both panted for air. "More," she breathed out, throwing a glance over her shoulder at the bed. "I want more."

Chuck's expression was like an open book — need, desire and … adoration? Sarah had never been adored before. But now she knew what it looked like. And felt like. She knew it the moment her mind surrendered to her heart.

Chuck drew her to him for another kiss. Then he guided her backwards until she stood and he started to rise.

The room door slammed open and Carina's shout jarred their attention back to reality.

Sarah shot Carina a venomous glare as she rocketed her chair into the room. Carina didn't even notice.

"Guys!" she shouted as she rolled up to the love seat.

Chuck finished standing, positioning herself next to Sarah. "God dammit, Carina," Sarah growled.

Carina waived off Sarah's complaint. She held up a cell phone. "Guys, we've got a problem."

"This isn't funny, Carina," Sarah said.

"Shut up, Walker," Carina snapped. "Listen." She tapped a button on the phone to put it on speaker and set it on coffee table. "Alright. They're both here."

Sarah looked at Chuck, who looked as confused as she felt. They both looked back at Carina.

Then someone on the other end phone cleared their throat and spoke. "Hello, Chuck. Hello, Sarah."

Ice filled Sarah's veins. She looked at Chuck. His eyes were wide in disbelief.

"Listen carefully," the voice said. "You don't have much time."

Chapter Text

"Blackbrier," Chuck said, spitting out the name. "Or should I call you, Shaw."

Sarah looked at Chuck, startled at the venom in his voice.

"You're correct, Chuck. On both counts," Daniel said. "Sarah, I'm sorry you have to find out about me like this. I know this call must be a shock."

"You're a slime bag," Carina snarled.

"That may be, but right now isn't the time for that discussion," Daniel said.

"Right now is the time," Sarah said, anger rising up like molten rock. "Somehow you survived. Then you disappear, create a new identity and let everyone who cared about you think you were dead."

You let ME think you were dead.

"I can explain everything," Daniel said. "But not right now."

"How did you find them?" Carina interjected. "When you called me you knew they were here."

Daniel's sigh was clear over the phone. "I know how Sarah operates," he said. "And I knew who she'd call for help when she had to go dark."

"But how did you know they were here - right now?" Carina said.

"I have resources. They were able to capture your communication with Zondra Rizzo."

Sarah looked at Chuck. "I thought that was hidden — that they couldn't trace the IP address."

Chuck frowned. "They couldn't. No one could have found the originating IP address if they'd been monitoring Zondra's computer." Chuck looked thoughtful for a moment. "Unless they weren't monitoring Zondra's computer. If they knew the originating IP address to begin with, then instead of intercepting the message and trying to figure out where it came from, they could just sit and monitor everything that came out of Carina's IP address."

"Chuck's right," Daniel said. "I knew Sarah might go to Carina for help. So, I had all traffic from Carina's IP address captured and analyzed. When Sarah and Zondra were talking, the communication was intercepted. That verified you two were at Carina's."

Frustration began to fuel Sarah's anger. It didn't matter how Daniel had found them, there was no question now that he was somehow involved in this situation. Sarah wanted to know how he was involved and if he was responsible for any of the attempts to hurt Chuck. But that would have to wait. What was most important was to find out why he'd initiated contact in the first place.

"What do you want, Daniel?" Sarah ground out the words.

"Good. Back on point. That's the Sarah Walker I remember," Daniel said. "Sarah, you and Chuck need to leave the island immediately."

Sarah had no reason to do what Daniel said. There was no reason for her to trust him. She scoffed, "Why?"

"Because there's an RGB assassination team coming to you."

Sarah, Carina and Chuck glanced back and forth at each other, stunned looks on each of their faces.

Still dubious about Daniel and his motives, Sarah said, "How do you know that?"

"Because I sent them," he said.

If a pin had dropped just then, it would have been deafening.

"Mother fucker!" Carina barked. "You're working for the RGB."

"Yes," Daniel said. "And, no."

Sarah's mind ground away at the situation, the information, the contradictions. Then it hit her. "Triple agent," she said.

"What?" Chuck said.

"He works for the South Korean military," Sarah explained. "Then he let himself get turned by the RGB, so they think he's their double agent. But he's still really working for South Korea.

"Bingo," Daniel said. "I had to send in the assassination team when my RGB handler determined I'd found out where you two were. If I hadn't, I'd have blown my cover. This is the first opportunity I've had to ditch my surveillance and call you. You two need to go. They'll be there any minute."

"Quiet," Chuck said. "Listen."

Sarah and Carina looked at Chuck. He pointed up with a finger. After a moment Sarah heard it. The unmistakable sound of a helicopter in the distance and coming fast.

"I think they're almost here, "Chuck said.

"Carina give them the cash and tell them about the boat," Daniel said.

Carina pulled a large envelope from between her hip and the side of her chair. "Here," she said. "I had this in my safe - ten thousand in cash. The keys to my boat are in here too. Slip 31, in the downtown marina. Take it. Set the GPS navigation to Anacortes. Ditch the boat there, pick up your car and run like hell."

"We can't leave you here," Chuck said. "Not with assassins coming."

Daniel jumped in. "They don't know about Carina's and Sarah's history. They won't bother her. I'm sure she can convincingly play the feeble invalid and they'll leave her alone."

"Carina?" Chuck said, his voice anguished, his face screwed-up tight with worry.

As the moment hung in the air Sarah realized she felt no jealously at Chuck's concern for Carina. She'd come to know that this was the essence of Chuck. Always thinking of the other person. How could she be jealous of something about him that she loved so much?

"He's right, Chuckles. I'll be fine," Carina said.

"Okay. So, we run. Then what?" Chuck asked of no one in particular."

"Sarah, do you have a burner phone?" Daniel asked.

"Yes."

"Here's my number," he said and rattled off a phone number. "It's also a burner. Call me when you get clear. I'll explain more at that time. Then we can put a plan into place to bring you and Chuck in and keep you both safe."

"I don't trust you, Daniel," Sarah said.

"I know," he replied. "Call me."

And with that, the line went dead.

The sound of the helicopter was much louder now. It would be on them in a minute or two.

"You guys have to go. Now!" Carina said.

Sarah tucked the envelope with the cash and boat keys in her jacket pocket. Worry for her friend filled her. Then, a spike of gratitude made her eyes tear. "Thanks, Legs. I owe you … again."

Carina grabbed Sarah's hand and squeezed. "Take care of yourself, Blondie. Take care of Chuckles, too."

Sarah nodded and then she and Chuck bolted out of Carina's room and down the hallway toward the Inn's back door.

Chuck stayed close on Sarah's heels as they hurtled across the huge lawn and garden area at the back of the Inn toward the line of tall shrubs and trees twenty-five yards away. He looked up and saw the helicopter rising from in front of the Inn and moving off.

They were only a few strides from the cover of the greenery. He looked over his shoulder and saw two men about fifty yards behind them, running along the side of the Inn toward the back of the property, heading straight for them. Chuck turned and crashed headfirst into the hedge of shrubs.

When he broke through to the other side Sarah was there waiting and grabbed his hand. "Run," she said.

As he ran he realized they'd burst into the huge backyard of the large estate neighboring Carina's property. They ran past a raised, wooden deck, startling a man and woman lounging in the midday sun. Chuck gave them an apologetic wave as he ran past. "Excuse us."

They came to a gate in a cedar fence on the far side of the back yard. Sarah pulled it open and went through. Chuck grabbed the gate's handle as he ran past it and let his momentum pull it so the gate slammed shut behind him.

As they ran Chuck's injuries began to burn. His breathing was quick and shallow, and the pain was getting worse with each second. He noticed that Sarah wasn't fairing any better. She was breathing hard and limping a little as she favored her injured rib. This was like the chase at the university — running through back yards instead of hallways and rooms — except there would be no escape by doubling back. And, like that earlier chase, they were not going to outrun the bad guys with their injuries.

They crossed the piece of property and ducked through another gate into another back yard with a large in-ground pool. But in this yard there was no other gate to provide an escape route. They'd either have to go back the way they'd come, which wasn't an option, or go through the house. Sarah ran to the other side of the pool at the far side of the property. She ducked behind a large shed where the pool pump and supplies were most likely stored. She leaned against the shed's wall, panting hard. Chuck slumped against the wall next to her, his chest and side throbbing.

"We can't out run them," Sarah said between breaths.

"I know," Chuck said.

"Another brilliant escape plan would be good right about now," Sarah said.

Before he could respond angry shouts erupted from the direction they'd come. It seemed the sun bathing couple had recovered enough from their stunned surprise to express their outrage at the two assassins encroaching on their privacy.

A few seconds later Chuck heard the gate latch click and knew their pursuers had entered the back yard. Sarah peeked around the side of the shed, then pulled back. She put her mouth to Chuck's ear.

"One guy's going toward the house. The other's walking this way, will probably come around the shed on your side," she whispered.

Chuck's heart beat in his chest like a hammer pummeling an anvil as he realized that in just a few moments they would most likely be in another gun battle. With two trained assassins and two guns against a useless nerd and a single bodyguard with one gun, things were not looking good.

Chuck didn't know much about tactics, but he knew that the assassin closest to them was the more immediate threat. If they could somehow take him out while the other guy was up by the house, it would be a lot better than taking them both on at the same time. If he and Sarah could go after the guy coming toward them when he rounded the corner of the shed, putting the building between him and his partner, that would be give them some cover. But this guy had the angle on them. He didn't have to be close to the shed to get a view around the corner to the back side where Chuck and Sarah were hiding. As soon as he saw them he'd be able to get a shot off at the same time as Sarah could shoot at him. And though Chuck knew Sarah was proficient with her Glock, he also knew that their odds didn't bode well in that scenario. If there was just some way to distract this guy. Some way to make him hesitate in order to give Sarah the upper hand.

Chuck looked around, trying to find something to create a diversion. On the ground near his feet was a coiled garden hose with a pistol grip spray nozzle. He remembered from one of the first-person shooter video games he played that one of his online opponents had a tactic Chuck had fallen for a couple times before he'd figured it out. His opponent had his shooter fire a slow-moving flare at Chuck's guy. His opponent would move to the side to avoid any lucky shot from Chuck's shooter who was temporarily blinded, and then hit Chuck with a barrage of bullets effectively taking down Chuck's guy.

Chuck leaned into Sarah, pointing at the garden hose and whispering, "If I can hit the guy in the face with water, will that give you enough time to get a good shot off?"

"I think so," Sarah whispered back.

"When I spray him, duck and move to the side. If he shoots blind at where we were, he'll miss," Chuck said.

"You go right. I'll drop down," Sarah said.

Chuck nodded.

Reaching down Chuck quietly turned the water supply handle and the hose swelled with water. He just hoped the water pressure was enough to reach the guy and hit him in the face. He picked up the nozzle and held it in both hands like a pistol, aiming it out past the side of the shed. As soon as the assassin crossed into view, he'd let him have it.

Chuck's heart continued to jack-hammer in his chest. His ears started ringing with the blood pulsing through them. He needed to blind the guy, just for a moment. He needed to get Sarah a split-second advantage. That's all she needed. He knew she'd come through — if he did.

Chuck stood, eyes glued at the spot where he'd have the earliest shot at the assassin as he came into view. His muscles were tight like rubber bands stretched to the breaking point, ready to pull the sprayer's trigger and slide to the side at the same time. He just needed to keep the water in the guy's face as he moved. Sarah's hand squeezed his shoulder. Then she crouched down beside him on one knee.

The soft squeak of a shoe sole on the pool's tiled deck gave Chuck only a second's warning before the shooter stepped into his line of fire. He saw Chuck and Sarah and brought his pistol up, leveling it in their direction, preparing to fire.

Chuck aimed the nozzle and pulled the trigger. A jet of water, more powerful than Chuck could have imagined, shot out, hitting the assassin in the face. At the same time Chuck dodged to his right, struggling to keep the jet stream pummeling the man's head. The shooter staggered back a step as his pistol went off, momentarily blinded.

And that brief moment was all Sarah needed. She dropped to the ground and took the shot. Three rounds, all hitting the shooter in the chest. He dropped to the ground like a stone.

A surge of relief shot through Chuck. His diversion had worked. They'd taken out the bad guy and, literally, dodged a bullet. He turned toward Sarah, feeling the huge grin on his face. And then cold fear shot through him.

A dozen yards behind Sarah the other assassin was running toward them, his pistol up.

"Sarah, behind you," Chuck shouted. He stepped to her side and unleashed the hose's powerful stream toward the oncoming bad guy. His aim was true, water landing in the attacker's face. But the bad guy was still far enough away that it didn't stagger him back, only obscured his vision. As he ran he got off several shots. Chuck heard the rounds hitting the side of the shed.

Then he heard the explosion of Sarah's pistol. She'd raised to one knee and pivoted toward their oncoming attacker as Chuck had sent out his water cannon. This time he wasn't sure how many shots Sarah fired. After what seemed like hours, he saw the man stumble and drop to his knees. His pistol fell from his hand and he slumped to the ground. Chuck forced his shaking hand to release the nozzle and stop the spray.

For a second everything was quiet as he stared at the second attacker laying on the ground. His ears were ringing, this time not from the blood rushing through them but from the deafening explosions from Sarah's pistol. Sarah's … pistol. Sarah!

Chuck's head snapped down to where Sarah knelt at his side. Relief washed through him like a tidal wave. She was okay. She hadn't been hit. She was still focused on the man she'd shot. She looked as stunned as he felt. He let go of the hose and dropped to his knees beside her. She slowly brought her gaze to his face and lowered her pistol. Chuck reached out, wrapping his arms around her and she did the same. They pulled each other close and Chuck could feel Sarah's body trembling. Or maybe it wasn't her's, but his.

"Are you okay," Sarah whispered, her chin on Chuck's shoulder.

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah."

Sarah pulled back and met Chuck's eyes. And the next thing he knew, she was kissing him. Her kiss wasn't passionate. Not a kiss of desire or lust. It was filled with relief, the need to be close, to reaffirm that they were alive. It was kiss of gratitude that he was okay. He knew exactly how she felt and he pulled her to him, kissing her back.

The kiss was intense, but quick, and ended by itself. Sarah stood, pulling Chuck up with her. "We need to go," she said. "I think local law enforcement is handled by the county sheriff. I don't know how fast their response time is."

Chuck nodded.

They walked past the second assassin laying on the ground, toward the house. It seemed that no one was at home. Either that, or people were hiding inside, which would be a good idea if there was a gun fight happening on your pool deck.

They reached a door that opened into the back of a large garage. Sarah walked across the polished concrete floor to the large garage door and pressed a button on a black box mounted on the wall. The door began to rise.

Chuck glanced at the boxes, tools and sports gear leaning against the side wall and another idea hit him.

"Hey," he said, waggling his eyebrows and pointing at two high-end mountain bikes. "Extraordinary circumstances call for extraordinary measures."

Sarah's grin stretched from ear to ear. "Better than coffee and doughnuts, nerd boy."

That pesky spike of lust was more insistent than before. But now was definitely not the time.

They grabbed the bikes and started peddling toward town, Carina's boat and escape.

Chapter Text

Sarah hadn't ridden a bike in years. But her legs were strong from her martial arts and fitness regimen. It was her cracked rib that caused her problems as they sped down a bike path toward the small town. But that was nothing new. She gritted her teeth against the pain and continued peddling.

On their walk earlier in the day they'd found the path and walked along it as they'd returned to the inn. The thirty-minute trip to town by foot would be less than a ten-minute bike ride. The bike path paralleled the main road into town, weaving in and around and under the canopy of evergreens and deciduous trees.

As they got closer to town Sarah heard the whine of a turbine engine and the whoop - whoop - whoop of helicopter blades coming toward them. After another minute she looked skyward through the branches as the chopper flew by, heading toward the town.

"That has to be the same helicopter," Chuck shouted as he sprinted forward and pulled up next to her. His bike wasn't tall enough for him and his long legs were having trouble with the pedals. He had to struggle to keep up.

"Probably," Sarah said.

"Why would they be headed toward town?" he asked.

"Don't know," Sarah said.

Just then the pitch of the helicopter's engine changed. Sarah knew what that meant. She'd had plenty of experience with helicopter's in the Secret Service. The chopper was slowing down and preparing to land.

Sarah increased her pace despite the pain in her side. They rounded a curve and the bike path brought them close to the side of the main road. Up ahead, and across the road, the trees thinned out making room for a public school. The school had a large playground area and the helicopter was slowly descending, preparing to land.

The whole scene was surreal for Sarah. They sped toward the town down the bike path on one side of the road. They came out of the trees with a quarter mile of pasture land between them and the buildings on the edge of town. She watched as the helicopter landed on the school's playground at least 100 yards on the other side of the road. Two men jumped out and started running toward the main road at a vector obviously intended to intercept Chuck and Sarah. On the bikes Chuck and Sarah would beat the men to the town's edge but only by a minute or two.

"Step on it," Sarah yelled over her shoulder at Chuck. She stood up from the seat and started peddling for all she was worth.

They rocketed down the bike path into the town proper. Glancing over her shoulder Sarah saw their two new pursuers trailing them by a couple hundred yards. A moment later the bike path twisted and turned and snaked in between buildings and she lost sight of the two men chasing them. But she had no doubt that their physical conditioning would bring them into the main commerce area of the town in less than a minute.

Sarah pulled off the path and onto a side street. Chuck hit his brakes and turned to follow her, almost piling over the top of his handle bars. As he recovered and pulled up next to Sarah he said, "A little warning next time would be nice."

"Sorry," Sarah said, trying to catch her breath. Her attention was focused behind them. "We need to ditch the bikes and get to the marina."

"The quickest way is on the boardwalk," Chuck said, breathing hard himself.

"They'll probably be watching for us there," Sarah replied.

"Except, they don't know where we're going."

"True, but it's crowded and the most likely place for us to try to lose them. If they're any good, they'll know that and focus their efforts there." Sarah climbed off the bike and leaned it against the wall of the building. "And there's another problem."

"What?" Chuck said, leaving his bike next to Sarah's, following her as she walked quickly toward the other end of the alley.

"The ramp down to the boat slips and the slip floats themselves can be seen easily from the entire boardwalk," Sarah said. "Even if we get to the dock, if these guys are worth their salt they'll spot us a mile away. There's not a lot of people on the docks and it's not like we don't stand out."

"Then how do we get to the Carina's boat?" Chuck said.

"Don't ask me. You're the one who pulls all this escape stuff out of his ass," Sarah said. "Time to start razzling and dazzling again."

Chuck groaned, and it wasn't from the pain in his chest.

Despite the miserable ache in her side Sarah forced her body to jog down a side street that paralled the boardwalk. She knew Chuck was hurting too, as his breaths were short and sharp with each step. They reached the intersecting street that lead two blocks over to the marina parking lot. Sarah eased up to the corner of the building where the street crossed the boardwalk and looked around the corner down the length of the boardwalk. It took her a few seconds but finally she spotted their pursuers. They were several hundred yards south. Both men were standing on benches that butted up against the railing on the bay side of the boardwalk. Their hands shielded their eyes from the sun as they scanned the area. Sarah pulled Chuck up next to her and they both peered around the corner. She pointed out the two new assassins.

"Crap," Chuck said. "Man, I'd liked to spit in Daniel Blackbrier's face right now."

"I'd like to do more with his face than spit in it," Sarah growled, balling up her fists.

They ducked back behind the corner of the building. Sarah surveyed the marina and the half-dozen floating docks that stuck out several hundred feet into the bay, each with a couple of dozen mooring slips on both sides. On a piling in front of each float was a large wooden sign with the starting and ending number of the slips on that particular float.

"Well isn't that just ducky," she groused.

"What now?" Chuck asked.

"Slip 31 is the last slip on the float on the boardwalk side of the marina," Sarah said. "We'll be exposed during then entire walk down the float." She pointed at the slip numbers over the first float.

"Wait," Chuck said. He squinted his eyes and peered into the distance. "If you're right, that's not just a boat."

"Huh?" Sarah said.

"Look," Chuck said, pointing. "Slip 31"

Sarah focused on the slip she'd identified as number 31 and her eyes widened. "Wowzers," she said. "Some boat."

"That's a Prestige motor yacht," Chuck said. "Looks like a fifty-footer. Diesel power, three hundred nautical mile range."

Sarah gaped at him. He'd gone almost a whole day without surprising her. But this made up for it.

"You know boats … er … yachts?" she asked.

"I thought about buying one a while back. I figured I could live on it after I sell my house. You know, like Tom Hanks in You've Got Mail."

Sarah shook her head. "You've got to be kidding. What is it with you and houses, anyway?"

"Hey," Chuck said with mock offense. "It beats Sylvester Stallone in Rambo 4 — living on an old beat-up river boat that …" his voice trailed off, his face dropping into that analytical mode that she'd come to know over the past several days.

"What is it?" Sarah asked.

"I know how we can get on the boat … yacht … whatever," he said. "Do you trust me?" he said with all seriousness.

"Are you pulling something out of your ass, again?" Sarah asked.

"Something like that," he said, this time with a quirk of a smile.

Sarah shrugged. "If it works, don't fix it. Lead on, nerd boy."

They waited until several cars drove past them and into the marina parking lot. They walked in the wake of the cars, betting that their movement would blend into the vehicle's movement in the peripheral vision of the two assassins, still scanning the boardwalk. It worked, as they made it to the parking lot without being detected.

Chuck pulled Sarah along toward the boat ramp where a large pickup truck was backing a trailer down the ramp to launch a boat into the bay. They walked next to the truck as it backed up, putting the truck between themselves and the boardwalk. As they walked down the ramp the driver gave them several puzzled looks. Chuck gave him a little wave.

As they reached the water's edge and the truck stopped, Chuck kept walking into the water alongside the submerged trailer, the boat now blocking any view from the boardwalk.

Sarah jerked to a stop. "What are you doing?"

"Come on," he said. "It'll be like Sheen rising out of the water in Apocalypse Now."

"Chuuuuuck!"

"Hurry up. Before we lose this cover," he said, pointing at the boat.

Sarah reluctantly stepped into the water and Chuck took her hand, pulling her after him until they were chest deep. The water was freezing and Sarah took in several sharp, short breaths as she immersed herself. Chuck started swimming the dozen yards toward the shore end of the long float with Carina's yacht moored at the far end. Sarah followed awkwardly, her jacket and shoulder holster not the best of swim wear. They reached the float as the truck and trailer pulled out of the water, the boat successfully launched and moving slowly away from the ramp.

"We need to swim under the float to the other side," Chuck said, treading water. "They won't be able to see us at all. We can swim behind the slips and out to Carina's yacht."

"Remind me not to encourage you in the future," Sarah said, her teeth chattering as she held onto the side of the float.

But she knew he was right. The float was a dozen feet wide. They'd have to dive down a half dozen feet to clear the float's large metal pontoons.

Chuck took in a breath and sank out of sight. Sarah did the same and followed.

It was dark under the float, the water murky. The salt water stung her eyes so she could hardly see. She relied on her sense of direction and swam. Her arms did most of the work and as a result, her injured side started pulsing with pain again. The cold water did have one redeeming quality, it kept the pain down to a point where she didn't think she was going to pass out. Although it was only seconds, it seemed like an hour before she saw light streaming down through the water again. She rose to the surface to find Chuck hovering there, waiting for her.

"You okay?" he asked.

Sarah reached up, moving her hair from in front of her face, and nodded. "Lead the way," she said.

She followed Chuck as they swam slowly past the sterns of yachts parked in slips until they reached the end of the float and Carina's yacht. Chuck pulled himself up onto the low deck just above the water line that extended across the entire stern of the yacht. He reached out and Sarah let him help her up out of the water. They were completely shielded from the boardwalk, the bow of the yacht facing the assassins perched on their benches.

Chuck scooted on his butt until his back rested against the transom. Sarah followed suit. Her teeth were chattering again and she was cold down to her bones.

"Now what?" she asked.

"We start her up, cast off the lines, cruise out of the harbor, activate the navigation system and sit back and relax" Chuck said.

"And you know how to do all that?" Sarah said, surprised by him once again.

Chuck nodded.

"Of course you do," Sarah dead panned. "Why did I even ask."

"You still have your knife?" Chuck asked.

Sarah nodded.

"We can't risk one of us going onto the float to untie the lines. We'd be too easy to spot," Chuck said.

"You want me to cut the lines?"

"Yeah. Go along the deck railing on both sides. Stay low and move slow. Make sure you get them all. While you're doing that, I'll get her fired up."

Sarah pulled out the envelop of soaked hundred-dollar bills, fished out the keys and handed them to Chuck.

Five minutes later the yacht's powerful diesel engine rumbled as Chuck pulled back from the slip and then moved forward toward the breakwater of the marina and their escape into the sound beyond. Sarah sat, out of sight, on the floor of the enclosed bridge. Her teeth chattered and she hugged her knees to her chest trying to get warm. Chuck was on his knees, his tall frame allowing him to peer over the helm controls out the front window and control the ship's wheel while staying out of sight of the assassins on the boardwalk.

"You think they'll notice us," Sarah asked.

"Nah," Chuck said. "If Chewbaca can fly casual, I can float casual."

"I'm not even going to ask," Sarah said.

Chapter Text

An hour later Chuck had successfully navigated the yacht out of the West Sound, east through the archipelago, and out into the open waters of the Rosario Strait. They were about an hour north of Anacortes if they continued at their casual pace. But they hadn't talked about next steps. So, Chuck shut down the engine and set the navigation proximity alarm. He and Sarah needed to make a plan.

Chuck headed down toward the master stateroom where he'd sent Sarah half an hour earlier. She'd been freezing and he'd insisted she take a hot shower to warm up. He wasn't fairing much better and it was his turn to get out of his wet clothes and warm up in the shower.

As he descended the gangway stairs he passed a small, single seat lift that went all the way from the bridge, down through the yacht's deck levels, to the stateroom. When he emerged into the stateroom's salon he saw the compact, collapsed wheel chair secured by latches to the wall next to the lift. Chuck shook his head and smiled. He'd wager that Carina had seduced many a man on this yacht.

He took in the room. It was richly furnished with shining wood and chrome accents and hardwood floors. And the air was gloriously warm.

Sarah sat on a sofa in front of him, her hair and body wrapped in huge, fluffy white towels. She was working on the various parts of her disassembled pistol, spread out on another towel draped over a coffee table. She looked warm and comfortable. Her teeth weren't chattering any more and she seemed a hundred percent better than when they'd been crouching down on the bridge dripping water all over the deck. Chuck, on the other hand, had never felt so cold in his life.

Sarah's focus remained on her pistol, but she'd apparently heard Chuck enter. She said, "This boat … yacht … whatever, is amazing. There's even a washer and dryer. My clothes are already drying."

She looked up and the smile on her face disappeared. "Oh, Chuck! You must be freezing," she said, standing up and moving to him quickly. "Come on, let's get you in the shower."

Chuck started to remove his shirt which was still wet and uncooperative as it stuck to his body. His entire left side was stiff and sore from running, biking and swimming and he wouldn't have been able to get his shirt off without Sarah's help.

As he dropped the shirt to the floor Sarah paused and looked up at him. "Wait a minute. Doesn't someone need to be steering this thing?"

Chuck was cold and needed to get his body warm, pronto. His explanation was brief. "We're in open water. Engine is shut down. It's still daylight so no one will run into us. And we need a plan." He shivered as he spoke.

"Oh," Sarah said, tilting her head and looking thoughtful for a moment. "Okay."

She helped him take off his shoes and pants. Then pushed him from the salon through the bedroom into the surprisingly large bathroom. As he walked past the large bed he chuckled at the hundred-dollar bills spread out evenly across the bedspread to dry. Sarah closed the door, leaving him to his privacy.

Chuck stripped out of his boxers and turned the shower to hot. The salt water made him feel sticky as well as cold and he just wanted to be warm and clean. He stepped under the hot spray and let out a long, low moan of relief.

A quarter hour later he turned off the shower and grabbed one of the large towels. He dried his hair and body as best he could given his injuries, then wrapped another towel around his waist.

Stepping through the bedroom into the salon, Chuck reveled in its warmth. Afternoon sunlight peered in through the narrow window slots along the length of one wall, reflecting off sparkling motes of dust that swirled slowly through the air.

Sarah lay stretched out on the sofa, her head against one arm, her eyes closed. She'd removed the makeshift armory from the coffee table. The towel around her head was gone. Her hair was still damp, falling in dark blond waves along her neck and shoulders, draping over her chest and the sofa, leaving damp spots on the upholstery where it lay. The towel around her torso, though large, was barely long enough to cover her body, leaving bare her shoulders and the top of her chest, as well as her thighs and legs. He stood, mesmerized by her, once again marveling at how breathtakingly beautiful Sarah was.

Desire began to pool low in his body and this time he didn't try to tamp it down. There was no need to. They weren't running for their lives. No one was shooting at them. They were miles away from any threat. They were warm. They were safe. And, for once, he just wanted to know what that desire felt like without having to deny it.

It seemed like weeks ago, instead of hours, when he'd pulled Sarah down onto his lap, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. As he thought about the kiss he could feel her insistent lips on his, her warm breath against his face, the soft skin of her back against his fingers. Definitely the best kiss of his life. And she'd wanted more. So had he. He might have experienced another best in his life if not for Carina and Shaw. He rolled his eyes at the irony.

"Feel better?" Sarah asked, her voice languid.

Chuck forced his gaze from Sarah's body to her eyes. She peered out at him through slits.

"Yeah," he said. "Were you asleep?"

"Napping," she said. "Waiting for you. You said something about a plan?"

"Uh huh," he said. "At the very least, I think we should stay out here until dark. It'll be easier to moor at a public dock and pickup our stolen car unnoticed."

"Good plan," Sarah said, closing one eye.

"That was easy," Chuck said.

"Mmm," Sarah mumbled and closed her other eye.

Chuck lifted her legs to make room for him on the sofa, then sat and pulled her feet down onto his lap. His fingers absently began to rub the sole of one foot eliciting an appreciative sigh. After a few minutes he switched to her other foot.

Sarah let out a long, low moan. "Oh … my … god."

Chuck looked at Sarah's blissful face. "You like that?" he asked, teasingly.

"Mmmm," she purred. "Better than eggs and bacon."

Chuck's fingers stilled.

Sarah's eyes popped opened, her expression as surprised as he felt. Her eyes locked with his. He could see the emotion swirling in them, intense and immediate. She pulled back and sat up, then crawled toward him across the sofa. She straddled Chuck's lap, just as she had earlier. Bringing her hands to his face, she leaned down and kissed him. Warm and full and deep and slow.

Sarah's lips were familiar on his. He knew them now, no matter how brief their earlier introductions. He'd never forget them for the rest of his life. They were unhurried but ardent as the kiss deepened. He knew how they moved, what they wanted, how they liked to dance with his, how they would lightly tease, then savor him deeply. Kissing Sarah was better than he'd ever imagined.

His hands slid under her towel to grasp her waist. He pulled her down onto his lap as he'd done earlier, this time only his towel separated them. Sarah rocked gently in his lap as she kissed him. As his body responded to her she moaned into his mouth.

Chuck had fantasized about being with Sarah. He'd thought that dream would never come true. But here they were. And it felt right. Perfect, even.

Chuck pulled back until his eyes met hers. "Sarah," he breathed.

Sarah's hands still framed his face. Her eyes were dark and needy, but twinkling. "I told you, I wanted more," she said, softly.

Sarah reached to her towel with one hand and pulled it away from her body. Chuck's breath hitched as his eyes drank her in. Beautiful and soft and hard and open — for him. Reaching down Sarah pulled Chuck's towel aside, then took him in her hand, staring hard into his eyes all the while. She lowered down, guiding him to the center of her. She rested her weight on his lap and moaned as she closed her eyes and tilted her head back.

Sarah started to rock again, slow and easy, taking them both toward oblivion.

Sarah's hand tingled in Chuck's, their fingers intertwined as she steered their stolen Honda with her other hand down the highway toward Seattle. She was finding it difficult to not be in physical contact with him. In the small confines of the car, cruising along the freeway at sixty-five miles an hour, holding his hand was the only option. But it was enough. In fact, it was more than she'd bargained for when she'd been forced to take this job. Now she didn't want to imagine what she'd be doing if she hadn't.

Their love making had been careful and slow, given their injuries. But that had made it even more intense and passionate. Her nerd was as giving sexually as he was in everything else. Her nerd — she liked the way that sounded. What had overwhelmed Sarah was the emotion Chuck had poured into their love making. It wasn't just sex for him. There was no denying the deep feelings he had for her. And he'd made it safe for her to let her own feelings for him come to the surface — wanting and hopeful.

They'd made love. Then slept for an hour. Then made love again. Then slept again. Then showered off together — but unable to keep their hands off each other, they'd made love in the shower — and then showered off again. By the time they woke after another round of sleep it was getting dark. They hadn't talked much. Sex and sleep and shower - that had been the agenda of the afternoon. With lots of making-out in between. And Sarah couldn't remember ever being so satisfied and relaxed and … happy.

At one point, Chuck had voiced his fear about their situation. He'd taken her hands and said, "I hope you don't think this was a mistake."

She'd been touched by his concern, but not surprised. She'd realized that it would take time to reassure him that she was all-in with him. She'd smiled and said, "You, Dr. Charles Bartowski, are the furthest thing from a mistake that I've ever done."

It had taken a second for him to get the double meaning, but when the sexual innuendo dawned on him he'd laughed, then pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard. That particular kiss had been a really, really good kiss. She'd obviously gotten her point across.

As darkness fell Chuck had piloted the yacht to the public dock in Anacortes, near the ferry terminal. They'd retrieved the Honda and driven into town where they'd got food, gassed-up and bought a box of ammunition at a sporting goods store so Sarah could replenish her magazine. They'd hit the road, which would put them in Seattle in about two hours, right around eleven at night.

And when they got there, Sarah was going to end this insanity. This wasn't a job any more. This wasn't just about a package. This was about Chuck. About her, as well. About them. In some miraculous way they'd come together. This was about the future. A future about which, for the first time in a long time, Sarah felt hopeful.

Chapter Text

Now it was time to figure out their next move. Sarah had been thinking about their options.

"I need a face-to-face with Daniel," she said. "Just me, alone. I need get a read on him, figure out what his angle is."

"That sounds risky" Chuck said, his tone concerned.

"I suppose. I'll call him first. Get as much information as I can before I set the meet."

Sarah felt a flash of gratitude at Chuck's comment. He hadn't told her not to see Shaw. He hadn't admonished her to be careful, to take precautions, to do the obvious things to stay safe. In their short time together he'd not only come to know who she was, but what she was. She was a cop. A good cop. And he obviously respected her for it. There was no way she'd take any unnecessary chances. She wanted to see where this thing with Chuck could go. How could she not fall for this man who not only thought she was gorgeous, but respected her. And admired her. And valued her. Valued her more than his own life.

Is that what love looks like? Does he love me? Do I love him?

"What about just turning ourselves in? Your captain believes us," Chuck said, pulling Sarah's attention back to the problem at hand.

"No matter who we turn ourselves in to, the DOD will swoop in, citing national security and everything thing else under the sun, and take control," Sarah explained. "They'll separate us and that will put us both at risk. I can't let anything happen to you. I won't let anything happen to you."

She squeezed his hand and he squeezed her's back.

"Oh, Geeze, I forgot," Chuck said. "Casey gave Carina and I the number to his burner, in case you need to call him."

"Right now he can't help us," Sarah said. "If I don't contact him then he's not implicated as a conspirator if things really go down the tube."

Chuck grunted his acknowledgement.

Sarah glanced at him. "You ready for me to call Daniel?"

"Yeah. Let's see what Lazarus has to say," Chuck said.

Chuck released her hand and Sarah pulled her phone from her jacket pocket. After a minute she'd managed to dial Daniel's number and still keep the car on the highway. The phone rang.

"Sarah?" Daniel's voice came through on the speaker.

"Yes," Sarah said.

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't call."

"I almost didn't."

"I'm glad you did. Where are you?"

"Heading toward Seattle. We'll be there in a couple of hours."

"Good. We need to get you and Chuck somewhere safe."

"Not so fast," Sarah said. "First, you have some explaining to do."

"That can wait until you and Chuck are secure," Daniel replied.

"No, it can't."

The phone was silent for a few beats. Then Daniel let out a loud sigh and said, "Okay. What do you need to know?"

Sarah glanced at Chuck. His face was earnest and he nodded at her.

"How did you get involved in this?" Sarah asked.

"I suppose that's a fair question," Daniel said. "Milae Engineering brought me in to ferret out a mole. Top-secret information was leaking out of Milae to the RGB about a variety of projects." He paused, then said, "I'm assuming you know by now that Milae is a front for the South Korean military."

"I know," Sarah said. "But why the double agent ruse?"

"I spent months pretending to be a dimwitted, American, project manager, trying to find the mole from inside Milae. I got nowhere. I needed to get inside the RGB and identify the mole's handler. The handler would lead me to the mole. We were pretty sure the RGB didn't have anyone inside the DOD project because no information about it was surfacing. I was inserted as a high-level manager for that project and the RGB jumped at the chance to turn me."

"How did you get the RGB to take you seriously?" Sarah asked. "Stepping up and offering to be a double agent is pretty convenient. They're not stupid."

"I have … contacts … in the RGB. People I've … interacted with in the past. They helped me get in." Daniel explained. "So, now that you have your explanation, we need to focus on what's important and that's getting you and Chuck to safety."

"Wait a minute," Chuck burst in. "You mean you were actually giving information about the project to North Korea?"

"Well hello, Chuck. "I'm glad you're safe. Although I'd expect nothing less with Special Agent Sarah Walker as your bodyguard," Daniel said.

"No thanks to you," Chuck snarled. "And it's Detective, not Special Agent."

Sarah's heart skipped a beat as Chuck stood up to Daniel. She gave him a smile, appreciating that he understood the importance to her that she'd left her old life behind and rebuilt a new life as a police detective. And, she realized, he was staking his claim, declaring to Daniel that she was important to him. That if Daniel had any thoughts of pursuing Sarah, he'd have a fight on his hands.

"Now, answer the question," Chuck demanded.

"Of course I was feeding them information about the project," Daniel, said. "That's how I maintained my cover. The information was non-critical and wouldn't jeopardize project completion. But the RGB didn't know that." Daniel added, matter-of-factly, "You know, Chuck, you wouldn't have made a very good spy."

"Why are you still under?" Sarah asked.

"I can't ID the mole's handler. The RGB is keeping that operation locked down tight — need to know basis. I don't need to know. So, I'm still working on it."

Sarah saw a sign to a rest stop just ahead. She whipped into the right-hand lane barely making the exit.

As she slowed the car on the exit ramp Chuck barked out an angry question. "Why did you send assassins to Carina's?"

"I told you," Daniel said. "To protect my cover. I warned you as soon as I could."

"Did you send the two assassins after us at the University?" Sarah asked.

"Yes," Daniel said. "As well as the team that came to Chuck's home, although that wasn't an RGB hit team."

"Wait. What?" Chuck said. "You sent both teams?"

"Correct." Daniel said. He paused, then said, as if it was an after-thought, "Oh, and I sabotaged the brakes on your car, too."

Chuck went silent. Sarah glanced at him. He looked dumbfounded, which was exactly how she felt. Instead of clearing things up, this conversation with Daniel was muddying the waters even more. Sarah grabbed Chuck's hand again and laced her fingers through his.

"Carina was right," Chuck said. "You are a slime bag."

"This is national security, Chuck. Millions of lives are at stake. I don't expect you to understand," Daniel said. "Look, there's a lot of moving parts here. I'll explain everything in detail, as soon as we have you two secure."

Sarah parked the Honda as far away as possible from the parking lot's huge florescent lights and shut down the engine.

"Daniel," Sarah growled, "quit jerking us around."

"Not jerking you around, Sarah. I'm dead serious."

"Then explain," Sarah demanded. "Everything!"

"Alright," Daniel said. "My RGB handler knew the DOD project was close to going online. He decided it was time to pull the plug. His solution was to have Chuck assassinated. That would delay the project long enough so it would most likely be scrapped. He contacted me last Thursday and told me to make that happen."

"You've been trying to assassinate me all along," Chuck said, practically shouting at the phone. "Four times you've tried to kill me. Four times!"

"On the contrary, Chuck," Daniel replied, "I've been trying to keep you alive. Now, if you'll calm down, I'll continue."

Sarah pulled Chuck to her, moving her lips to his ear so Daniel couldn't hear. "I'll keep you safe," she whispered. "No matter what." She kissed his cheek and felt his body relax just a bit. He pulled back and nodded, his expression grateful.

"Go on, Daniel," Sarah said, flatly.

"I needed to keep my RGB cover intact, so I had to make it look like I was following my handler's orders. But I needed to protect Chuck as well. That's when everything got … interesting."

"Interesting?" Chuck said, his voice incredulous.

"Yes. Interesting. That's when the game was afoot," Daniel said. "That's when probabilities became the most important variable. That's when I could finally take control."

"Daniel …" Sarah drew his name out in a warning tone.

"Chuck, I needed to get you off the playing field for your own safety and to keep the DOD project from being compromised. So, I arranged for your brakes to fail, knowing you'd survive."

"What the hell?" Chuck blurted out. "You could have killed me. You couldn't be sure I'd survive."

"That's where playing the odds comes in, Chuck," Daniel said. "I knew you drove and Audi A4, one of the most crash-safe cars on the road. I knew your route from work to home was on surface streets where you never exceed thirty-five miles an hour. The odds were so high that you'd survive a low speed crash that it was a no-brainer plan. I was able to convince my handler that I was trying to kill you, while at the same time setting things up for you to disappear."

"What do you mean, disappear?" Chuck said.

"I'll get to that," Daniel said. "I reported to my handler on Sunday that you'd survived. He ordered me to send an assassination team to your place Monday night. Again, I had to set that up to keep my cover. But I sent in my guys to extract you to a safe location before the RGB hit team got there." Daniel paused for a second, then said, "And we know how that turned out. Unfortunately, I'd mis-calculated the odds on that particular move."

Daniel's explanation made Sarah's stomach clench, bile burning in her throat. She'd killed four men. Four men who weren't trying to kill Chuck. Four men who didn't work for the RGB. These men had been sent to bring Chuck to safety. Rage rocketed through her at Daniel's cavalier attitude toward the death of his team. His reduction of human life to statistical odds was just like the self-centered, egotistical Daniel she'd known before. She couldn't fathom how she'd fallen for him. Especially now that Chuck had come into her life.

"You're insane," Chuck said, staring at the phone. "You put people's lives at risk like they're chips in a poker game."

"Yes, things were risky, even dangerous. But I had to make it look good. That's the nature of espionage, Chuck," Daniel said. "I knew the odds and I played them. And I was correct at each step of my plan."

"You're not such hot-shot, Daniel," Sarah said. "You fucked-up the extraction at Chuck's place."

"I'll admit, my primary plan for getting Chuck to safety didn't work out. But, Sarah, you know me better than that. You accompanied me as we made our mark on the Beirut casino circuit. Do you really think I hadn't considered the odds thoroughly? Do you really think I didn't have a backup plan to get Chuck off the board?"

Silence filled the car. Sarah's mind churned. She knew Daniel. She knew he always had plans within plans within plans. She walked through each of the incidents he'd orchestrated — the car crash, the extraction team at Chuck's loft, the first assassination team at the University, the second assassination team at Carina's. The pieces of the puzzle were lining up in her mind's eye. Suddenly she thought she saw the answer. But she needed one more piece of information.

"How did your hit team find us at the University?" Sarah asked. Casey had already given her the answer, but she wanted to know if Daniel had put the tracker on her car.

"Ahh," Daniel said. "And the other shoe drops."

"Answer me!" Sarah demanded.

"I had a GPS tracking device attached to your car." Daniel said. "That's how the hitters were going to find you after work on Monday."

"Wait?" Chuck said. "How would you know to do that? You only found out Sarah was my bodyguard in the meeting with Stansfield and Beckman that afternoon. We left Engram while you guys were still meeting." Chuck's voice was agitated, his words picking up speed. "You couldn't have called someone to do that after I left the meeting. And even if you had, there wouldn't have been time for someone to bug the car. We left five minutes later. And there was no way to be sure that we'd be in Sarah's car instead of my rental."

"You're absolutely correct, Chuck. On all counts." Daniel said. "And that's where knowing how to play the odds comes in."

Sarah felt an icy chill run down her spine as the final piece of the puzzle fell into place.

"You … fucking … rat … bastard!" she said.

Chuck looked from the phone to Sarah. "What?"

Sarah didn't answer him, instead focusing her attention on the phone sitting on the console between them. "You knew I was with Seattle PD. You staged the accident so you could browbeat Beckman into getting protection for Chuck. You knew about her history with Graham and convinced her to call him for help."

"Beautiful and brilliant. I have missed you, Sarah," Daniel said. "I played my hand with Beckman. She thinks like a spy, so getting her to call Graham was easy. The odds were that Graham would assign the best officer on the force to help out his long-time friend. I'd already hacked SPD personnel records and confirmed my suspicion that there was no one on the force with more protection training and experience than you. Graham had to make that play. It was the odds-on choice."

"So, I was your plan B for taking Chuck out of play from the beginning?" Sarah asked.

"That's my girl," Daniel said. "I knew there was a possibility that my team might fail, given who you are, but if that happened I knew you'd go dark and run - effectively taking Chuck out of the game anyway."

"Then it was you who convinced Beckman and Stansfield we were traitors," Chuck said.

Sarah caught Chuck looking at her and she nodded for him to keep going.

"You knew Sarah wouldn't bring me in if there was someone high enough in the pecking order to sell that lie."

"You're catching on, Chuck," Daniel said. "I needed Sarah to take you underground. To do that, I needed her to think there was someone in power that could arrange for your assassination even if you were under protective custody. Of course, now you know that wasn't the case and I'm sorry I had to put you through that. But it was essential for you to disappear without tipping off my handler.

"But everyone still thinks we're traitors," Chuck said.

"That's another reason I need to bring you in. To get you two safe before one of the other alphabet soup agencies with trigger happy agents finds you. Once you're with me, I'll be able to clear things up immediately. But if another agency gets to you first they'll lock you up while God and everybody starts jumping in to try to figure things out. Granted, there won't be anyone trying to kill you, now that you know I'm the source of the traitor story. But it will take months to work through your situation. And you know what that would mean for Beckman's company."

Sarah saw Chuck shudder. "It will go bankrupt before the truth comes out," he said quietly.

Sarah watched Chuck's face reflecting the fear he felt for his boss. She tightened her grip on his hand. He finally said," So, with Sarah as my bodyguard you could manipulate everything because you knew how she'd react, what she'd do."

"To a degree, that's true," Daniel confirmed. "Again, it was a gamble — playing the odds. And, again, I was right. I had the tracker put on Sarah's Porsche Sunday evening when she was at the precinct. If she didn't get the assignment, no loss. I'd still have my primary plan in place." He let out a laugh. "Ironically, my primary plan failed because I'd made Sarah my backup plan."

Silence stretched out, thick and expectant, no one willing to take the next step and speak. Every muscle in Sarah's body tightened in apprehension. There was one thing she wanted to know and dreaded to know at that same time. But maybe this was the time to find out. Sarah looked into Chuck's eyes. She felt his hand around hers. He grounded her. He was her rock.

Sarah took in a breath. "What happened to you, Daniel. After … Beirut."

There was a long pause before Daniel responded. His voice was tight. "I want to tell you, Sarah. But not over the phone."

"Why not?" Sarah asked, her frustration rising again.

The answer to the question that had haunted her for the past five years was almost within her grasp. She'd even just mustered the courage to ask about it out loud. And now Daniel was going to deny her when she was so close.

"It's … complicated," Daniel replied.

Sarah didn't respond and the silence returned.

After a while Daniel said," I promise I'll tell you everything. I'll answer all your questions. But it's imperative that I bring you in before the RGB, or anyone else that thinks you're traitors, can get to you."

Sarah sighed, fighting down the frustration vibrating through her. "When and where?" she said.

"Meet me at midnight. Dock fifteen on the industrial waterfront. My team will get you to safety and then the DOD, CIA and South Korea can play hardball with the RGB."

"Midnight," Sarah confirmed. "But not the docks. "We'll meet you at Westlake Center, downtown. It's open and public. Even at midnight there will be a few people around."

"Sarah …," Shaw complained.

"And just you," Sarah said. "No one else."

Only silence came as her answer.

"Take it or leave it, Daniel."

"Sure," Daniel said. "That'll work. See you both at midnight."

The phone beeped as Daniel disconnected the call.

Chapter Text

Anxiety wormed away at the back of Chuck's mind. He took another sip of coffee and frowned at the paper cup. He glanced at Sarah who was scanning the streets and sidewalks near their parked car. He wondered how she could be so calm when she was about to walk into the proverbial lion's den.

After the call with Shaw they'd continued their drive south. They hadn't talked much. The few comments either of them made were to inquire if the other was doing okay. After a couple of those, they laughed uncomfortably and then sat in silence as the little Honda continued down the highway. When they'd reached Shoreline, about 15 minutes north of downtown, they'd stopped at a convenience store for coffee and snacks. Sarah had also purchased three additional burner phones. When he'd raised his eyebrows in question she'd just shrugged and said it was better to be prepared than not. He couldn't argue with that.

Sarah had driven by the Westlake Center to refamiliarize herself with the layout of the open-air plaza. It was well lit and though it was late, there were a few people walking through, probably on their way back to one of the five-star hotels in the area after a night out at one of downtown's world-class restaurants. Then she'd parked two blocks away in an alley just off Virginia street, next to the Westin Towers. At 11:30 at night parking hadn't been a problem.

Chuck looked down at his hands rotating the coffee cup around and around. Then he let out a sigh and looked out the windshield, joining the same vigil as Sarah. A warm hand wrapped around one of his, stilling it's fidgeting. He looked at Sarah's hand, then turned his eyes up to meet hers.

She gave him a Sarah smile. But there was worry in her eyes that she couldn't hide. "It's going to be okay," she said. "I won't let anyone hurt you."

"It's not me I'm worried about," he said.

Sarah nodded. "I know. I'll be careful. I promise."

Chuck turned his hand to interlace their fingers and stared out the windshield at nothing, his mind racing. He'd been dissecting an idea since they'd left the rest stop. Going over and over it in his mind, looking at it from every angle, every possibility. It was a crazy, insane, life-shattering idea. But as the moment grew closer when Sarah would be putting herself in harm's way for him one more time, he decided he was willing to try it. He was willing to do anything to keep her safe.

He turned back to Sarah. "What if you don't go?" he said. What if we just leave?"

"I suppose we could do that, if you want to," Sarah said. "I can call Daniel and tell him I'll meet him tomorrow. He won't be happy about it, but he'll just have to-"

"No," Chuck interrupted. "I mean … what if you don't meet Daniel at all? What if we leave — everything?"

Sarah's eyes grew wide. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying … what if we run? Disappear. Start a new life," Chuck said. "I've got money stashed away in Switzerland, Panama and Australia. Lots of money. More than we'll ever need. I don't want a fancy life, I never have. But I want a life — I don't want to get dead. And I want a life where I'm not locked up for something I didn't do. There's no guarantee Daniel can help us like he says he can."

He paused, trying to read Sarah's face. Her surprise was evident, but he couldn't see beyond that.

"Think about it," he said. "With your know-how and connections, and my money, we could create new identities, live anywhere in the world we want, leave this insanity behind. I've got cash I can get my hands on in less than half a day's drive. Enough to buy new identities, passports, whatever we need to get away. Once we're out of the country, we'll be home free."

Chuck still couldn't get a read on Sarah's emotions, but her gaze was intense in the dim light from the streetlamps overhead.

"I think we're pushing our luck," Chuck said, hearing the desperation in his voice. "I've got a bad feeling it's about to run out." His chest felt like a boulder was bearing down on him, suffocating him. "Sarah, I don't want you to die. Not for me."

Sarah leaned toward Chuck, tightening her grip on his fingers. "Someone I know — someone I admire — taught me that it was my decision about who I'd be willing to die for."

Chuck looked away, knowing she was talking about their argument after he'd been shot in his loft.

"And he also taught me who I'd be willing to live for," she said.

That brought Chuck's eyes back to hers.

"If we run, we'll never really be free," Sarah said. "They'll always be after us — the CIA, the DOD, South Korea, North Korea, Interpol. We'll always be traitors looking over our shoulders, always on the run."

"Better that, than loosing you," Chuck said, barely getting the words out.

"You won't lose me, Chuck. I won't let that happen."

Sarah brought his hand to her lips and kissed it softly.

Chuck blew out a breath. Anxiety still coursed through him. But he needed to trust Sarah. He believed in her, so she deserved his trust. And he would never leave her.

Chuck swallowed hard, then nodded his affirmation. "Then, we stay."

Sarah watched Chuck lean back into his seat. He was worried sick. About her.

She thought about what he'd just said and the enormity of it hit her. He'd asked her to run away with him. He'd offered to give up his profession, his family, his friends — hell, his entire life — to keep her safe. To be with her.

If there was any way for them to do that — to run away and not be hunted, to be safe — she wouldn't hesitate. Every minute that passed made her that much more positive that she wanted a future for them, together. There was no guarantee that things between them would work out, but she wanted a chance to see. She wanted a chance to try.

Chuck let out a long sigh. "It's like everything's stacked against us. Like we don't have any choice. If we surrender to anyone other than Blackbrier, we get locked-up for who knows how long, the project won't deploy and Engram will go under. I just can't do that to Diane. She's been so good to me."

"I know," Sarah said. Her heart hurt watching the pain on Chuck's face.

"Do you think we can trust him?" Chuck asked.

Sarah thought for a moment before she answered. Should she hedge her answer — reassure him that it was all going to be okay? Or should she tell him what she really thought? And in the instant it took her to consider those two options the answer shown like a bright neon light. This was Chuck. He wasn't helpless. They were a team. He was her partner. You always leveled with your partner.

"We're not going to trust him, not at first, anyway. Not until we have more information," Sarah said.

Chuck nodded.

"I'll meet him alone. We won't give Daniel a chance to take control of you. We need to keep you off the playing field a little longer," Sarah explained, "until we know who's side he's really on."

"Do you think he'll tell you what happened to him … after Beirut?" Chuck asked. "I know what that means to you."

"Whether he does or doesn't isn't important," Sarah said. "Yeah, I'd like to know. But that takes a back-seat to finding a way to get you to safety and protect Beckman's company."

"Thanks for understanding about Beckman," Chuck said.

"It's important to you," Sarah said. "So, it's important to me."

The ring tone on Sarah's phone blared. They both jerked in surprise and looked down at the phone between them.

"No one has this number. Right?" Chuck said.

"Just Carina," Sarah said."

Sarah tapped the accept call button. "Legs?" she asked.

"Blondie! Are you both okay?"

"Yeah, we're good. At least for the time being. By the way, your boat … I mean, yacht … is at the Anacortes public dock," Sarah said. "Thank you."

"Yeah, I know. I've got a find my yacht tracking app on my phone. Go figure," Carina said with a snort. "Is Chuckles there?"

"Yeah, I'm here," Chuck said. "Carina, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Daniel's goons didn't bother me," Carina said. "The reason I called is that I've got intel you guys need to know."

"What intel?" Sarah asked.

"Hang on a minute. Let me pull Riz in," Carina said.

Chuck looked at Sarah with raised eyebrows. She just shrugged.

"Riz. You there?" Carina said.

"Yep," came Zondra's voice over the phone's speaker.

"Blondie, you and Chuckles still on the line?" Carina asked.

"We're here," Sarah said. "Are we secure?"

"Yeah. Both Riz and I are on burners," Carina said.

"Carina, what is it with you and phones and ominous news?" Chuck said.

"Yeah! Right?!" Carina said. "Like I don't have enough to worry about, now I'm the information air traffic control for you guys."

"Legs, how did you secure-contact Riz?" Sarah asked.

"Through your little chat room setup. I looked over your shoulder when you were on my computer, so I was able to log in and get her to authenticate. When she found out it was me instead of you, she was pissed."

"Damn right," Zondra said.

"Why did you contact her? Why are you calling us? What's going on?" Sarah shot out each question, one after the other.

"Chuckles, you need to work on your girlfriend's stress level. Mellow her out a little bit," Carina said.

Sarah glanced at Chuck who was smiling. "Working on it," Chuck said.

"No … fucking … way!" Zondra said, the astonishment in her voice clear over the phone.

"Told ya," Carina said.

"'We're kinda on the clock, here," Sarah said. "Focus."

"Don't get you panties in a wad," Carina said.

They heard Zondra's laugh over the phone.

"After you guys took off I had a lot of questions. I don't trust Shaw as far as I could throw the pieces of his dismembered carcass. So, I decided to do some research," Carina said. "Actually, I decided to ask Riz to do some research. Riz, you're on."

"Okay," Zondra said. "First off, Sarah, I was royally pissed when Carina told me Shaw was alive. I'm so sorry this happened to you."

"I'm okay, Riz," Sarah said, her eyes deliberately seeking out Chuck's to steady her.

"Carina briefed me on everything you told her. That helped me refine my searches," Zondra said. "I'll give you the Reader's Digest version about what I dug-up over the last eight hours.

"First thing I did was search archived chatter from the Asia desk from about a year ago. That was the time Carina said Shaw … Blackbrier … hell, I'm just going to call the prick, Shaw. That was the time Shaw showed up on this DOD project. There was chatter about information leaking out of the SK military to the RGB. And there was talk about the CIA working with Milae to try to find the source of the leak."

"Well, that confirms that part of his story," Sarah said. "So, is Daniel working for the CIA on this? Did they send him in undercover?"

"That's the interesting part." Zondra said. "From what I could gather from aggregating all the chatter, the US wanted to insert someone into Milae because the project Chuck was leading had just started. They didn't want it infiltrated and information leaked. The State Department pushed SK really hard through back channels. But Milae — read, South Korean Military — was adamant that they wouldn't allow a CIA operative inside their organization."

"That makes sense," Carina chimed in. "The US military wouldn't willingly insert a SK spy into its infrastructure."

Zondra continued. "There was some Agency interdepartmental chatter that indicates Milae was going to bring in an outsider — someone an inside mole wouldn't know — to find the leak and fix the problem."

"You mean, like a spy for hire?" Chuck said.

"For all intents and purposes, yes," Zondra said.

"Did they?" Sarah asked.

"Don't know," Zondra said. "That's when the chatter died out. Which means that something happened and the Agency's communication about it was ramped up to a security level that excluded all but a few top-level station heads. That effectively ended any chatter on the whole deal."

"So, there's nothing to indicate the CIA got involved," Sarah said.

"Right," Zondra said.

Sarah's stomach churned. She had a bad feeling about Daniel's involvement. But before she could say anything, Chuck voiced her thoughts.

"Do you think Daniel isn't working for the CIA? Could he be this "spy for hire" that Milae was talking about bringing in?" Chuck asked.

"That's what I thought," Carina said. "That's why Zondra and I called you guys. If he is, that changes things. Daniel may be doing exactly what he says — working for the interests of SK and the US. But his motives may be different than ours if one of us were undercover on that assignment."

"You mean, he's doing it for the money?" Chuck said.

"Yeah," Carina said. "That would mean he's playing by a different set of rules. If something gets in the way of him accomplishing his objective and getting paid — well, who knows what he'd do."

Sarah knew what Carina was implying. If she, or Chuck, or both of them together, could mess things up for Daniel so he wouldn't get paid, he might throw them under the bus. Her anger at Daniel flared hot at that thought. He might still be their only way in out of the cold, but she wasn't going to let his persuasiveness and charm blind-side her like she had when she'd met him six years ago. Her mission was to protect Chuck and that objective was seared into her every thought.

"Zondra," Chuck said, "we don't want you to get into trouble for helping us."

"I'm good," Zondra said. "I've covered my tracks. And I believe in you guys. I need to help any way I can."

Sarah caught the significance in Zondra's comment. She believed in them, not just in Sarah.

Sarah looked at her watch. She needed to get going to make the midnight meeting with Daniel. "Thanks you guys. We really appreciate the help."

"Watch your back, Blondie," Carina said.

"Yeah," Zondra agreed.

"We're on it," Sarah said.

"Call me as soon as anything changes," Carina said.

"I will, Legs," Sarah said.

Chapter Text

Sarah walked along the sidewalk toward the open area in front of the Westlake Center. She checked her phone, making sure the speaker function was on. She'd taken one of the extra burner phones she'd bought and dialed its number, then put it in her pocket, leaving her other phone with Chuck so he could monitor the meeting and her conversation with Daniel.

"Chuck, can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear," he said.

"Just don't say anything," Sarah said. "Things may be a little muffled because the phone will be in my pocket, but you should be able to hear well enough."

"Okay."

Sarah slipped the phone back into her pocket, turned the corner of the block and walked into the plaza area. Her eyes scanned her surroundings, looking for Daniel and anyone else he might have brought with him despite his promise to meet her alone. There were a few people walking by, even at this late hour.

At the far side of the plaza, Daniel came around the corner of the building and stopped short when their eyes met. He wore a tailored suite, white shirt and dark tie. He was tall and handsome and looked exactly as he had the last time she'd seen him, just moments before he'd been shot and taken.

Sarah held her breath as emotions crashed through her. Anger that he'd let her think he was dead — for the grief and the guilt he'd let her suffer through over the past five years. But relief also coursed through her. Now that she actually saw him in the flesh, she didn't have to carry the burden of his death any longer.

But what spoke to her in volumes was that there were no latent sparks of affection upon seeing him. And in that respect, he was dead to her. She had something — someone — in her life, infinitely better than anything she'd thought she'd had with Daniel.

Daniel strode toward the center of the plaza. Sarah straightened and walked to meet him there, stopping a dozen feet apart.

"Sarah," Daniel said, his expression sad, apologetic. "I'm so sorry about what happened."

"You're a bastard, Daniel," Sarah said.

"I suppose I am," Daniel said. "But I've got my reasons."

"Reasons?" Sarah snapped. "Or excuses?"

"Fair enough," Daniel said. He looked around. "Where's Chuck?"

"He's safe," Sarah said.

"Sarah, we can't linger here. We need to get you both off the street. I can only slip my handler's surveillance for so long."

"Then you'd better talk fast. What's the plan?"

"I've got a safe house set-up. You and Chuck will stay there tonight and tomorrow while I work with the DOD and Milae. I need to break my RGB cover so we can bring you and Chuck in and he can finish the project."

"What about the mole in Milae?" Sarah asked.

"Chalk that up to a mission failure. Right now, Chuck and the project are more important."

"Fine," Sarah said. "But I have one more question."

"What?" Daniel said.

"What happened after Beirut … after you were taken? Where have you been? What have you been doing?"

Daniel opened his mouth, but then shut it quickly. His eyes shifted, looking past Sarah — looking behind her. Sarah spun around. Two large men in dark slacks and windbreakers had come around building's corner into the plaza, small submachine guns aimed in their direction.

"Dammit," Daniel said. "RGB. I'm blown. Run."

Sarah swiveled around, following Daniel as he turned to run in the opposite direction. They both stopped short. Two other men were walking toward them from the other side of the plaza, machine guns also aimed at them. The plaza was open with no cover, a perfect killing field if they tried to escape.

Sarah dipped her head down, keeping the volume of her voice low enough so the approaching men couldn't hear her. "Chuck, run!" she said. "Do what you said in the car. Run far away and don't look back."

Sarah looked up and saw Daniel's wide eyes. He'd obviously heard her. He gave her a nod and then raised his hands. Sarah did the same.

All four gunmen stopped a few feet from Sarah and Daniel, effectively surrounding them. One of them stepped up to Daniel, glowering at him. Without warning he took the butt of his submachine gun and rammed it into Daniel's gut. Daniel let out a whoosh of air and grunted in pain as he collapsed to his knees.

Chuck listened in horror, his worst fears coming true as an unknown number of RGB agents descended on Sarah and Daniel.

Sarah's voice came over the phone, quite but urgent. "Chuck, run! Do what you said in the car. Run far away and don't look back."

Next came muffled grunts and the speaker crackled and hissed as Sarah's phone was most likely jostled around in her pocket. After a few moments the speaker grew quiet. Chuck sent out a silent thankyou to the universe that he'd heard no gunshots.

Then Sarah's phone picked up a gruff, male voice in the background, the phone obviously still in speaker mode. "Mr. Park, the woman had this phone on her."

"Bring it to me," another male voice said.

After a rustle of sound, that same voice came through loud and clear. It was refined, educated, professional. "Hello. I assume the person listening to this is Dr. Bartowski. Am I correct?"

Chuck jerked the phone away from his ear as if it had bit him. This guy, Mr. Park, knew someone was listening. Park knew it was him. He put the phone back to his ear.

"If this isn't Dr. Bartowski, then I have no use for the woman or Mr. Blackbrier," Park said. "I'll just kill them and be on my way."

"Wait!" Chuck said.

"Dr. Bartowski, I presume," Park said.

Chuck took in a shaky breath. "Yes."

"Good," Park said. "I am not an uncivilized person," Park said. "I don't want to hurt the woman. Blackbrier, on the other hand, I would very much like to hurt. Still, I am willing to let them go for something you can provide for me."

Chuck's heart pounded hard in his chest. He tried to swallow but his mouth felt like it was full of sand. "Wha … what?" he stammered.

"Disabling the cyber-surveillance system you've created before it becomes operational," Park said.

A chill ran down Chuck's spine. "In other words, you plan to kill me," he said.

"Actually, that is no longer necessary now that I have as my guests your bodyguard and Mr. Blackbrier — who, I have just confirmed, is not working for my best interests," Park said. "Killing is such a nasty business. It is filthy and expensive and over-all quite distasteful. Why kill someone when a simpler solution will solve the problem?"

"What simple solution?" Chuck asked.

"For you to hack the system and destroy the code," Park said. "Once that is done, I will drop you off at your local coffee shop where you can enjoy a latte while you want for the Defense Department to come and collect you."

"That's not possible. I can't override the team security protocols." Chuck said.

"Oh," Park said, his tone thoughtful. "That is unfortunate. Well then, I suppose I do not need the woman or Blackbrier any longer." Park's voice went distant, as if he'd turned away from the phone. "James, kill the woman. But leave Mr. Blackbrier for me."

Panic shot through Chuck like a forest fire. "No," he shouted into the phone. "I'll do it. I'll do what you want!"

"Wait a moment, James," Park said. "You have made a wise decision, Dr. Bartowski. But please know that I will not tolerate any further lapses in your cooperation. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Chuck said. "How do we do this?"

"Excellent. Meet me at this address," Park said, and recited the address over the phone. "When you arrive I will free Blackbrier and the woman."

"No, Chuck!" came Sarah's shout from the background. Don't do it. He'll kill you. He'll kill us all. He won't-"

There was a muffled grunt and Sarah's voice was cut off.

"My apologies for the interruption, "Park said. "She will not bother us for the time being."

Chuck's heart hammered in this chest. Had they just hurt Sarah? Was she okay?

"How do I know you'll let them go?" Chuck asked.

"Dr. Bartowski, although I give you my word, I am not certain that it really matters at this point. You have a decision to make. You can come to me and trust that I will let them go. Or you can ignore my request and know that they will certainly die."

Maybe Park thought Chuck had a choice in the matter. But he didn't. He'd do anything to save Sarah. And right now, that meant he had to take the chance that Park would let Sarah and Daniel go if he did what Park wanted.

"Oh," Park said as an afterthought, "I am sure it is unnecessary to emphasize that you must come alone. That is one thing all of the spy movies have portrayed correctly," Park said, chuckling at his joke. "Please arrive in thirty minutes."

Chuck felt the terror rising inside him again. But he couldn't lose it now. He had to keep it together if he was going to save Sarah. His mind went into overdrive. He needed time to make a plan.

"I can't get there in a half hour," Chuck said

"Dr. Bartowski …," Park said, his tone warning.

"I'm not in Seattle. I'm in Anacortes. We left the island on a boat and returned to Anacortes where our car was. The detective left me here where it was safer, while she drove south to meet with Blackbrier."

"Ah. I wondered how you had escaped the island," Park said. "Very well, in two hours you will present yourself to me, or I will kill them both."

"But that's barely enough time. What if I run into a traffic problem or something?" Chuck asked.

"I have a very simple answer to that question," Park said. "Don't."

After Park ended the call Chuck had quickly driven the Honda out of downtown, just in case Park didn't believe his story about being left behind in Anacortes and had people looking around the neighborhood for him. He'd driven north toward the Pacific Science Center and ten minutes later, parked below the looming presence of the Space Needle.

As he went over his conversation with Park he had to consciously fight the panic swelling inside to keep it from overwhelming him. Sarah was in danger. If he didn't do something, she could die. But if he did what Park wanted in order to save her, the DOD project would be destroyed and Beckman's company would go bankrupt. And there was no guarantee Park would let them all go. Sarah certainly didn't think so and had tried to warn him.

As he thought about the situation he remembered something that Sarah had said to him on the ferry. She'd told him that if she put his life side by side with a hundred-million-dollar contract and had to choose between the two, his life would win every time.

There'd be no contest, she'd said.

It was the same for him. There was nothing in the world more important to him than Sarah's life. He'd do whatever it took, pay any price, to get her back and keep her safe.

But he didn't trust Park, no matter how principled the maniac portrayed himself. Chuck had no delusions that if Park had the opportunity, he'd kill Chuck, and Sarah and Daniel, too.

Chuck knew he needed help. But he couldn't go to the police or the CIA or Beckman or anyone. He was still considered a traitor — most wanted. Even if the truth eventually came out, right now he couldn't afford to contact any of those agencies and ask for help. They'd take him into custody and lock him up. His two-hour window would pass and Park would kill Sarah and Daniel.

He needed to save Sarah. He needed to figure out how. He needed a plan.

Work the problem, Chuck. Just work the problem.

Chuck was greatful that when he got stressed, his analytic mind found solace and stability in laser-focusing its attention on the problem in front of him. Just like trying to solve an equation or get a branch of code to execute correctly, he needed to stick with it and work the problem.

After a few minutes of considering alternative, only one option seemed viable. He needed to get Sarah and Daniel away from Park and not be captured himself. He'd need the right kind of help to accomplish both of those objectives. And the only answer that he could come up with was Sarah's boss, SPD Captain, John Casey.

Casey believed they were innocent. He'd been willing to communicate with them even though it put his career at risk. He was a cop. Zondra had said he was a retired Marine Corps colonel — Special Forces. Sarah had said she trusted Casey. Carina had told Chuck that she thought Sarah cared about Casey, which meant that Sarah not only trusted him, but that he'd earned her loyalty as well.

Chuck thought back to the end of the conversation with Casey over the computer connection and recalled the phone number Casey had given him and Carina. He lifted his burner phone and dialed that number.

"Walker?" questioned a gruff voice over the phone. Chuck recognized Casey.

"It's Bartowski," Chuck said.

There was a pause, then Casey said, "Where's Detective Walker?"

Chuck pushed out a breath, preparing for a tirade from Casey. "She's been — taken."

But instead of an angry browbeating, Casey said, "Understood. Are you safe?"

"Yes."

"Good. Tell me what happened."

After five tense minutes, with minimal questions and grunts from Casey, Chuck finished recounting what had happened since they'd talked the pervious afternoon. He spent a significant portion of that time going over what Shaw had told them.

"You did the right thing, Doc," Casey said. "Meet me at the West Precinct office and I'll take it from there."

"No," Chuck said.

"What do you say?" Casey said, his tone angry, which, Chuck had come to understand, was Casey's baseline.

"You heard me," Chuck said. "No. If I go anywhere near police, they'll arrest me."

"You don't need to worry. I'll be able to vouch for you. There's enough information out in the wild now to clear you."

"I'm not worried about that. If the police detain me, I won't be able to meet with Park and he'll kill Sarah and Daniel."

"I'll get them out," Casey said.

"How, with a SWAT Team and a tank?" Chuck said. "These guys are international spies, not street thugs. They'll see you coming a mile away. The first whiff of a double-cross on my part and Park will kill Sarah and Daniel and disappear into thin air before you guys even know what happened."

"You can't go there," Casey growled. "You're a civilian and I can't authorize your involvement."

Chuck let out a humorless laugh. "Captain, you don't need to authorize anything. I'm already involved. Up to my eyeballs."

"If I bring a team, they'll be obligated to detain you. I won't order them to do otherwise — I won't have them put their careers at risk."

Chuck knew Sarah was loyal to her boss. She respected and admired him. Now it was time to see if Casey felt the same way toward Sarah.

"Then don't bring anyone," Chuck said.

"You know, Doc, I was beginning to think you were a pretty smart guy. Now … not so much."

Chuck's panic had been slowly turning to anger as Casey kept throwing up road blocks. "This isn't going anywhere," Chuck said, more to himself than to Casey. "Fine. I'll do it myself."

Chuck started to pull the phone away from his ear to disconnect the call when he heard Casey shout, "Hey, wait a minute, Doc!"

"What," Chuck snapped.

"I can't let you go into this alone," Casey said.

"Why not? You let Sarah go into it alone," Chuck spat back, spite dripping from every word. This time he knew for sure that Casey would blow up at him.

Silence echoed back. Long seconds passed. For a moment he thought Casey had been cut off. Then he heard a long inhale.

"She likes you, Doc."

Chuck shook his head. Casey was full of surprises. "How do you know?" Chuck asked.

"I can figure stuff out," Casey said. "She's good people. The best. If she likes you, and you're enough of a moron to jump into a snake pit by yourself to save her …" Casey didn't finish his thought.

"God, I don't believe I'm gonna do this," Casey growled. "Where are you? I'm coming to you."

A spark of hope ignited inside Chuck. "Just you. No one else," he said.

"Just me," Casey said.

"Promise?"

"Sure," Casey said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

"Not helping," Chuck said.

"Yes, I'll come alone. Now give me your goddamned location before I reach through this phone, rip your arm off and beat some sense into you with it."

Casey opened the passenger's door of Chuck's stolen Honda and folded his large frame into the seat. It had only taken him twenty minutes after they'd finished talking on the phone for him to arrive.

Chuck looked Casey over. He was as tall as Chuck, but at least fifty pounds heavier, all of it muscle. Chuck had hoped he'd be bigger.

Checking his watch Chuck saw that it was almost one o'clock in the morning. It seemed like a day instead of an hour since he'd last seen Sarah. He was grateful Casey was there. He had no idea what to do, but with a retired Marine Corps Special Forces soldier sitting next to him, he let himself hope that they had a chance to save Sarah.

"Doc," Casey grunted and offered his hand.

Chuck took it. "I have no clue what I'm doing, so thanks for helping."

Casey's phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. "Gotta take this."

"This is Casey."

Chuck listened intently to the one-sided conversation.

"Yeah.

"Yeah.

"No. Just working an angle from one of my old CI's.

"Yeah. Thanks, Sarge."

Casey ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket.

"What was that about?" Chuck asked.

"I had the desk sergeant get some basic intel on the address. It's a large, single story building in Federal Way. Used to be an independent auto repair shop, but it's empty now — no tenants. It's scheduled for demolition. A new office building's going up."

"Is that good or bad?" Chuck asked

"Both," Casey said. "Good because it's empty. But bad because it's right on Highway 99. Major thoroughfare with lots of arterials and side streets means plenty of escape options."

"Do you have a plan in mind?" Chuck asked.

"Maybe," Casey said. "This Park guy's team is probably small so they can move around town without drawing attention. Most likely they're using only one vehicle. A large SUV can hold eight people. With two hostages, that means his team's limited to no more than six, including him."

Chuck felt a little sick to his stomach thinking about the possibility of six bad guys. Sarah had taken out four in his loft and then the two by the swimming pool. But they had surprised those guys. He and Casey wouldn't have surprise as an advantage. Chuck, at least, would be walking right into the bad guys' hands — literally. They'd be on alert for someone to surprise them, no matter that Chuck had said he'd come alone. Spies couldn't be stupid enough to believe that.

"That sounds like pretty crappy odds," Chuck said.

"Normally, I'd agree," Casey said. "But we have one advantage not typically present in a hostage situation. The captives aren't helpless civilians. We need to get Walker and Blackbrier into play as fast as possible. They're gonna be restrained somehow — tape, cuffs, zip ties, something. We need to figure a way to get them untied at the least, and weaponed-up at the most. I know Walker can handle herself in hand-to-hand. I imagine Blackbrier can too, if he's a spy."

"Maybe I can sneak in a gun or a knife," Chuck said.

"Not an option. They'll search you."

"What do we do?" Chuck asked. The fear that had been turned back with relief at Casey's arrival was starting to rise again.

"You're gonna need to go in and get me intel on the number of bad guys and their firepower," Casey said.

"How do I do that," Chuck said.

Casey reached inside his jacket and pulled out a pair of glasses. "Here," he said. "Put these on."

"I don't need glasses," Chuck said.

Casey rolled his eyes. "They're not real glasses, the lenses are just plain glass. There's a microphone built-in so you can talk and I can hear you. If you get close enough I'll even be able to hear the person you're talking to."

"How will I hear you?" Chuck asked.

"Can't risk that. They'll check you for an ear piece," Casey said. "Now listen up. You're going to ask two questions. The first will be a code to tell me how many bad guys there are. The second will be a code to tell me about their weapons."

Chuck nodded.

"The first question is asking Walker or Shaw if they're okay. If there are two or fewer bad guys, ask Sarah if she's okay. Use her first name. Like this, 'Sarah, are you okay?' That way I'll know there are only one or two guys. If there's three to four bad guys ask, Walker if she's okay. If there's five or six guys, ask Daniel if he's okay. If there's more than six guys, ask Blackbrier if he's okay. Got it?"

"Yeah, got it," Chuck said. "What about the weapons?"

"If you don't see any rifles or sub-guns, in other words, all you see are pistols, then ask Walker if she needs any water. If you see any rifles or sub-guns, ask Walker if she needs any medical attention. You got that?"

Chuck repeated it back to Casey, who nodded in approval.

"What then?" Chuck asked.

"You try to get as close to Walker and Blackbrier as you can," Casey said. "I'll create some type of diversion. Your job is to get one or both of them unbound. They'll know what to do next."

"What kind of diversion?" Chuck asked.

"We're flying by the seat of our pants, here, Doc. I'll figure something out and you'll know it when you see it," Casey said. "And, Doc?"

"Yeah."

"If there's any gunplay, you hit the deck fast, find cover and stay there. Understand?"

"Understood," Chuck said.

Chapter Text

Sarah squinted against the blinding light as the black cloth bag was ripped off her head. She sat on a beat-up, metal office chair. Her hands were zip tied behind her. She tasted the blood that had dripped down into her mouth from the laceration on her forehead where she'd been pistol-whipped when she'd shouted at Chuck over the phone. The cut throbbed and her cracked rib ached. Her blurred vision had cleared a little, so she could see the source of the light that made her head pound. Long florescent fixtures hanging from a ceiling at least twenty feet above them illuminated a large open space.

She took in her surroundings. It looked like an auto repair garage. There were three large bays with hydraulic lifts in each. One lift was raised high into the air with an old car sitting on top. It was dented and rusty with no tires and wheels. Dust covered benches, old wheels and rusted metal tools and containers were scattered around the space. The smell of oil and gas and grease permeated the air. She was seated near the wall at one end of the garage. Three large bay doors were on the left wall. Across from her, on the farthest wall, was a window looking into another enclosed space with a door next to it. Probably the business office when the shop had been active. Perhaps once the place had been a viable auto shop. But it had obviously been abandoned.

Daniel was next to her, zip tied and sitting in a chair similar to hers. She watched as the bag was pulled from his head. He coughed and spat to the side. The RGB agent threw the bag on the floor and walked to the far wall by the business office where Park and the other two agents were talking.

Sarah was surprised but grateful that all of the agents weren't close enough to hear them. She needed to find out as much as she could from Daniel before one of them came over and told them to be quiet.

Sarah turned to find Daniel studying her. "You're hurt," he whispered.

"I'm' fine," Sarah whispered back. "What about you?"

"He got my solar plexus. I'll be sore, but other than that, I'm okay," Daniel said. "We need to deal with that cut," Daniel said.

"A little blood is going to be the least of our worries if we don't get out of here," Sarah said. "What the hell just happened?"

"Park is my handler. Looks like I went off the grid one too many times and he got suspicious," Daniel said. "I knew I was cutting it close. I guess I didn't know how close."

"You don't think Park will let Chuck go if he does what Park asks, do you?" Sarah said.

"Park is a tough guy to read. But, no. I think the simplest solution for him right now is to kill Chuck. If Chuck dies, the project dies. His mission is done. He wins, we lose. And if he's decided to kill Chuck, he'll kill us, too." Daniel looked worried as he asked, "Do you think Chuck will really come?"

"Yes," Sarah said. Her heart ached with that certainty. There was no doubt in her mind that Chuck would come. She knew he'd do anything to save her. Right now, more than anything in the world, she wished he wouldn't.

One of the men stepped away from the group and looked in Sarah and Daniel's direction. Sarah went quiet as the man eyeballed them. After a minute he turned back to the group and reengaged in the conversation.

"You're not CIA, are you," Sarah said.

"No," Daniel said. "How did you know."

"Zondra. She did some research," Sarah said. "Who are you working for?"

"Actually," Daniel said, "I work for myself."

Sarah said, "South Korea hired you instead of letting the CIA inside."

"Zondra's good," Daniel said.

"What the hell's going on, Daniel?"

"I'm not sure now is the right time."

"You keep saying that. No more excuses. Now is the right time. I'm not going anywhere."

"Sarah …," Daniel said, his tone impatient.

"Does this have anything to do with Beirut?" she asked.

Daniel let out a slow breath. His shoulders slumped and he looked away. "In a way … yes," he said.

After he didn't continue, Sarah said, "Tell me, Daniel. I deserve to know."

Daniel brought his eyes back to Sarah's. "After Beirut I went into business for myself. I find a problem, go in and solve it, and get paid. That's what I've been doing for the past five years. That's what I was doing with Milae."

"But you've been with Milae for an entire year," Sarah said.

"Big potential payday," Daniel said. "I was playing the odds. They were sketchy, but the money was too good to pass up."

"So, you're a mercenary spy for hire." Sarah shook her head and gave Daniel a disgusted look. "You are one piece of work, Shaw."

"I got tired of being the dutiful rich kid," Daniel said. "Tired of following in my father's political footsteps. Doing what was expected. Relying on my family's money. I wanted more than that. I wanted my own money, my own life, control over my own destiny. And now, I have that."

"Fine," Sarah said, unwilling to argue the merits of Daniel's motives.

Looking away Sarah considered the question that had haunted her for the past five years. Did she really want to know what had happened to Daniel after he'd been taken by the terrorists?

Without warning her mind flashed on the scene from that day. She heard the shot. Saw him falling to the ground. Saw the blood on the pavement. Smelled the acrid scent of splintered concrete from the rifle bullets raining down. Saw the masked men throw him in the van. Heard the squeal of the tires as they and drove him away.

It was the worst day of her life. But she needed to know. She needed to end this misery for herself, once and for all, no matter what his answer.

Sarah turned back to Daniel. "What happened to you after you were taken? Were you … tortured? How did you get away?"

Daniel's expression grew sad. "Sarah, I'm so sorry. It was the hardest thing I've ever done. I did it. It's done. And I don't have any regrets, except for one. I regret what it did to you."

Frustration flared at his vague answer. "Regret about what? What did you do?"

"Sarah, it wasn't your fault. You couldn't have stopped it. I made sure of that," Daniel said.

"Dammit, Daniel," she whispered, loud enough for the men across the room to hear.

The four RGB agents turned toward them for a moment and Sarah bit her tongue to stay quiet.

After they turned away and resumed their conversation, Sarah ground out, "Tell me what happened."

"It was all staged," Daniel said. "It was all fake."

A flash of vertigo hit Sarah. Hard and nauseating. Making it difficult to stay upright. She ducked her head between her knees, taking short breaths, fighting to not wretch. After a few moments the dizziness passed. Swallowing bile, she slowly sat up.

Daniel watched her carefully. When she was upright again he continued.

"I planned everything. When I went back to the taxi, I held the tip money up high knowing every eye would be watching that hand. With my other I pulled a small Walther 32 automatic I had concealed, pressed it against my shoulder and shot myself. I knew where to put the muzzle so the bullet would pass through. The odds were that the small caliber would do the least amount of damage."

Sarah sat, horrified at what Daniel was telling her.

"I had a shooter stationed in the hotel across the street. When I went down his job was to fire onto the sidewalk to keep you and the rest of the team from trying to get to me."

I … I would have run into that to save you. But Amy and Carina held me back," Sarah said, her voice barely audible."

"I knew the odds were good that they'd stop you if you tried. And it worked," Daniel said. "When I went down, that was the signal for the guys in the van to come in and grab me."

"So, you weren't kidnapped? You weren't tortured?"

"No."

"Why?" Sarah asked, searching his eyes.

"It was the only way I could get out from under everything and do what I wanted," Daniel said. "If I was dead, no one would be looking for me. I'd made a lot of contacts all over the world during my diplomatic career. I knew I could have the money, influence and power I wanted if I could disappear and reinvent myself. And it worked. Now, I'm one of the best out there."

Sarah turned away from Daniel. She'd blamed herself for his capture, torture and death. She'd never thought anything in the world would ever be as painful as the guilt she'd lived with over the past five years. But this came close. Daniel's betrayal cut to the core of her. His willingness to let her live with that raw pain when he could have ended it all with a simple call, a simple email or letter, was torture of the worst kind. Maybe a better person than her could forgive him. Maybe someone like Chuck could forgive something so vile. But Sarah knew, for as long as she lived, she would never be able to forgive Daniel for what he'd done to her.

Commotion at the far end of the garage pulled Sarah from the dark hole her mind had descended into. Park and his three gunmen were moving around, positioning themselves. One of the agents went through the door into the office area and out of sight.

A moment later the door reopened. The RBG agent stepped back into the garage. Sarah stopped breathing as Chuck walked through the door.

Chuck adjusted the unfamiliar glasses perched on his nose as he stepped away from Casey's Ford, Crown Victoria, Police Interceptor. He walked down the block, turned the corner and faced the abandoned auto shop.

Before they'd climbed into the huge car Casey had donned a combination Kevlar and FLAK vest, inserted a pistol into a chest holster and slug an assault rifle over his shoulder. His plan was to approach the back of the building on foot and see if he could get inside while Park and his goons were focused on Chuck.

There were three, large bay doors on the front left of the building. On the front right side was a standard sized door as well as several windows which were covered with dark green butcher paper from the inside — probably the office area.

Chuck walked up to the office door and checked the handle. It was unlocked. He pushed it open slowly and stepped inside. A single lamp sitting on a dusty metal desk illuminated the office. On the other wall was a door and a window with light coming through, which looked into a large room. Chuck stopped and raised his voice. "Park, I'm here."

The door opened and a bulky man wearing a black windbreaker with a submachine gun hanging from a sling approached Chuck. "Arms up," the man said.

Casey had said they'd search him. Chuck raised his arms out to his side. The man did a thorough pat down, then gestured toward the door and stepped forward. Chuck followed. He had no other option at this point. He needed to get to Sarah, to make sure she was safe, to get her out of this.

Stepping through the door Chuck found himself in a large, three-bay automotive repair shop. He scanned his surroundings. Every muscle clenched when he saw Sarah and Daniel at the far side of the room. His eyes locked with Sarah's. He could see the fear on her face. And she was hurt. Her forehead and cheek were bloodied.

Anger surged through him and Chuck rounded on Park standing just a few feet away. He'd never though he'd be capable of killing someone, but now he understood what that type of rage felt like.

"You said you wouldn't hurt them," Chuck said.

"After we made our agreement, I did not hurt them" Park said. "Your bodyguard's injury was the result of her meddling in our … negotiation … over the phone."

Chuck turned and started to walk toward Sarah and Daniel. One of the RGB agents grabbed his shoulder, stopping him.

"I want to talk to them," Chuck demanded.

Park nodded at the agent. He released Chuck.

"Follow me," Park said, and he walked across the cement floor, leading Chuck toward Sarah and Daniel.

They stopped a half dozen feet away. Sarah was so close that if he took just two steps he could pull her into his arms. It took every bit of will power Chuck had to stand still. He had a job to do. He thought about the codes Casey had given him. He needed to pass on the intel so Casey could get them out of this.

"Walker, are you okay? Do you need medical attention?" Chuck asked, sending Casey his coded messages.

He saw the question in Sarah's eyes at his detached tone and the impersonal way he addressed her.

"Chuck?" she asked, confusion ringing in her voice.

"She is fine, I assure you," Park interjected.

Chuck turned to Park. "I'm here. You said you'd let them go."

"Yes, about that," Park said. "After serious consideration I have found it necessary to reconsider my position on that matter."

The fear Chuck had felt earlier crashed back into him. He glanced at Sarah, then looked back at Park.

"Upon additional analysis, I have determined that the simplest solution to this entire convoluted affair is just to kill you all and be done with it," Park said.

Chuck hoped he was close enough to Park so Casey could hear him and realize that Park had changed his mind and was planning to kill the three of them. Casey needed to get here sooner rather than later. Chuck needed to buy Casey time to do that.

"You said that killing was too complicated." Chuck said. "It will be messy with three bodies to get rid of."

"Messy, yes. But, in the long run, much less complicated than my original plan."

"How's that?" Chuck said, grasping at anything to keep Park talking.

"None of your concern," Park said. He turned and gestured at the three agents standing by the office doorway. One of them grabbed a large, black plastic sheet and walked toward Park and Chuck.

Chuck swallowed. He knew what the tarp was for. He'd seen enough mafia, serial killer and murder movies to realize what was about to happen.

Out of the corner of his eye Chuck saw a small object fly through the office door into the garage area. Without thinking, his body did what Sarah had told him to do in his loft. He turned away, shut his eyes and covered his ears.

The flash-bang grenade went off, still deafening and disorienting despite his attempts to protect himself. But Chuck had the advantage of preparation. This was Casey's diversion. He'd need to have a discussion with the Captain later about how it might have been better if he'd let Chuck know that the flash-bang was an option.

Chuck shook his head, trying to clear the ringing in his ears. He needed to get to Daniel and Sarah. He needed to get them untied. Chuck opened his eyes. Daniel was closest. Chuck scanned his surrounding for some type of tool he could use to break whatever bound Daniel's hands behind him. Off to the side was a rusted brake lining. He grabbed it and rushed to the back of Daniel's chair.

As Chuck used the brake lining to saw away at the zip ties holding Daniel's wrists, gun fire erupted. In his peripheral vision he saw the two agents by the office door go down. Casey burst through the door, moving fast. He veered toward the side of the garage with the bay doors, crouching low and moving forward.

"Get Park," Chuck shouted in Daniel's ear as the zip tie broke free.

Chuck ran toward the agent who had dropped the tarp and was raising his submachine gun toward Casey. He leaned his right shoulder down and tackled the agent square in the back, knocking him down. As the agent fell his head hit the corner of one of the hydraulic lift platforms resting on the floor. Chuck could tell he was out, if not dead.

Chuck climbed to his hands and knees, watching Casey as he slowed to a stop. Casey rose to his full height and let his assault rifle hang from its sling, resting against his chest. He lifted his hands up in the air and gave Chuck a grim look.

Confusion shot through Chuck. Then fear hit him. If Daniel hadn't been able to subdue Park …. Was Sarah okay? He spun around — and froze.

Sarah was still bound, sitting in the chair. Park stood next to her. And next to him stood Daniel, a pistol in his hand. The pistol was pointed toward Chuck and Casey, not at Park.

Despite the flash-bang and the brief firefight, Park look unruffled.

"You must be the police captain I have heard about," Park said. "Please disarm yourself."

Casey didn't move.

Park pointed his pistol at Sarah. "Now, Captain."

Casey gave Chuck a hard look. "Stay put, Bartowski," he said as he pulled his pistol from its chest holster with two fingers and dropped it. Slowly he lifted his rifle's sling over his head and lowered it to the ground.

"Step away from the weapons," Park said

Casey took several steps toward Chuck.

"Stop there," Park said.

Casey stood in place.

"Daniel, what's going on?" Sarah said, her eyes wide with disbelief. She struggled to stand.

Park's empty hand snapped out, backhanding Sarah across the face, sending her back down into her chair.

Chuck's rage flared white hot. He clenched his fists and took a step toward Park.

"Don't, Chuck," Daniel said, jabbing his pistol toward Chuck. "Stay where you are."

Chuck forced himself to stop. "What are you doing, Daniel," he ground out.

"He is doing what he is told," Park said. "We knew you might not come to the rendezvous with Blackbrier, Dr. Bartowski. If that happened the plan was to capture your bodyguard and make it look like Blackbrier was also a prisoner. Blackbrier told me you would come to save both of them. Obviously, he was right."

"Blackbrier, you stinking, commie pig," Casey snarled. "You're a traitor and a coward."

Park turned back toward Casey and Chuck and stepped up to them. "And now I can finally end this fiasco," Park said. He raised his pistol, pointing it at Chuck's head.

"No!"

Sarah's scream echoed in the huge space, drown out a moment later by a gunshot.

Chapter Text

n a frozen moment of time Sarah knew her life was over. Not because Park was going to kill her next, but because he'd killed Chuck. Even if she somehow survived, she didn't know how she'd go on without him. She loved him. She knew that now, without a doubt. And now he was dead and she'd never have the chance to tell him.

Sarah blinked, then gasped as the back of Park's head imploded, blood spraying out. She turned to look at Daniel and saw the smoke rising from his pistol.

Time snapped back into place and she found she could barely breathe. Daniel spun toward the RGB agent standing off to the side and shot him twice in the chest before the man could react. He fell, dead.

Daniel turned back to Sarah and she could see he was visibly shaken. She looked at Casey and Chuck, relief written all over their faces.

"I take back the commie insult," Casey said as he turned to go retrieve his weapons.

"Stop!" Daniel shouted.

Casey froze, looking over his shoulder at Daniel. His questioning eyes caught Sarah's. But she had no idea what was going on.

"Daniel," Sarah said. "It's over. Take a breath. It's okay. We're all okay."

"Actually, it's not over," Daniel said. "Captain Casey, turn toward me and put your hands behind your head."

"Daniel," Chuck said, "put the gun down."

Daniel stepped to Sarah's chair, grabbed her arm and jerked her to her feet. Pain stabbed through her side.

Chuck took a step forward.

"Stay where you are, Chuck," Daniel said and pointed his pistol at Sarah.

"Enough of this bullshit," Casey growled. "You were never working for Park."

"I supposed his corpse gave me away," Daniel said grimly.

"So, what now?" Casey said.

"Chuck and I need to go," Daniel said.

"He's not going anywhere," Casey said.

Daniel turned his attention to Chuck. "You and I need to leave. I don't want to hurt Sarah but I will if you don't cooperate."

Daniel pulled Sarah to his side and another jolt of pain shot through her rib.

"Chuck goes with me. The Captain and Sarah stay here," Daniel said.

"Not gonna happen," Casey said.

"Then I leave with Sarah. If you try to stop me or follow me, I kill her," Daniel said.

Sarah felt Daniel's hand tighten around her arm. She heard the determination in his voice. He wasn't bluffing. He'd kill her, she had no doubt. And because he'd kill her, she knew he'd kill Chuck. She wasn't going to let Daniel have Chuck.

"Don't do it, Chuck," Sarah said. "He'll kill you."

"I'm not going to kill him if I don't have to," Daniel said. "He has one chance to stay alive when this is all said and done."

"What's your game, Blackbrier?" Casey said.

"It's simple," Daniel said. "I plan to auction Chuck off to the highest bidder."

"Highest bidder?" Chuck said. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Both North Korea and the South Korea want you, Chuck," Daniel explained. "North Korea wants you so they can derail the DOD project. The South Korean military and the US want you in order to finish and deploy that same project. The question is, who's willing to pay more for you. If it's South Korea, you live. If it's North Korea … well, you get the drift."

Sarah thought back to the conversation she'd had with Daniel earlier. The depth of Daniel's strategy began to unveil itself to her. Plans within plans within plans.

"You've been planning this auction thing all along," Sarah said. "Since the beginning."

The pieces were falling into place in Sarah's mind.

"This whole time, you've never worked for Milae or the RGB. You just let both sides think you were, with these double and triple agent ruses," Sarah said.

"Clever girl," Daniel said.

"The project had to advance far enough to become viable," Sarah continued. "That's the only way either side would pay you to take control of the project – to take control of Chuck.

"You planted the mole in Milae. You knew the DOD would insist Milae do something about it. And you knew Milae wouldn't let the CIA get involved. That's when you conveniently appeared and offered your services and Milae brought you on board. They kept you on because they thought you were actively hunting for the mole. Then, you had to get close to the DOD project. You fabricated this whole triple agent fiasco and convinced them to operationalize it."

Sarah paused, thinking hard, then said, "But there was no guarantee they'd hire you in the first place."

"No," Daniel agreed. "But if I played my cards right, the odds were heavily skewed in my favor. It was good gamble. And once I got in the door, everything was easy."

"Right," Sarah said, her tone disdainful. "It's all about the game with you."

"You needed to keep the commies from butting-in," Casey interjected, "and shit-canning the whole enchilada, or you'd have squat to sell. So, you sold the RGB a bill-of-goods that you were working for them, trying to sabotage the thing. But you were actually keeping their grubby little pinko mitts off the thing until it was ripe enough for you to pick."

"I must say, Captain, that I'm quite stunned. Detective Walker must have rubbed off on you," Daniel said.

"Fuck you," Casey sneered.

"In the end, there are three players at the table," Daniel crooned. "The RGB, Milae and me. If the RGB wins and gets Chuck, I get paid. If Milae wins and gets Chuck, I get paid. With odds like that, and with the amount of money involved, I'd have been a fool not to play."

"You won't get away with this, Daniel," Sarah said.

"I suppose that's up to Chuck, now, isn't it," Daniel said.

Daniel turned to Chuck. "Chuck, let me spell this out for you. If you refuse to go with me, I take Sarah to keep you off my tail. When I'm safely away and have no more use for her, I kill her."

Sarah watched as emotion clouded Chuck's face.

"Or," Daniel continued," you come with me and I leave Sarah here. The RGB wins the bid. Unfortunately, that probably means you die. But Sarah lives. If Milae and the DOD win the bid, then both you and Sarah live. What odds are you willing to play?"

"Don't listen to him, Chuck," Sarah said. "He's lying. That's all he knows how to do is lie."

"If I go with you now, then you'll leave Sarah with Casey? They both go free?" Chuck asked Daniel.

"Yes," Daniel replied.

"No, Chuck!" Sarah shouted.

Sarah fought down the panic rising inside her, but it was a losing battle. Everything around her was unraveling, like some sort of surreal, Escheresque painting. Chuck couldn't do this. It wasn't his job to protect her. It was her job to protect him. She couldn't fail him. Not Chuck.

"Doc, you sure about this?" Casey asked.

Chuck turned toward Casey and nodded.

"Please, Chuck," Sarah said, fighting back sobs. "Please, don't do this."

Chuck turned to Daniel. "Alright," he said. "Let Sarah go."

Nausea roiled in Sarah's stomach. She fought to keep from retching. She glared at Daniel, then looked at Chuck, willing him to look at her, to see the fear in her eyes and change his mind. But Chuck didn't look her way. He kept his eyes locked on Daniel.

"Come and stand here," Daniel said, gesturing to a spot on the floor a few feet in front and to Daniel's side.

Chuck did as instructed.

Daniel took two steps toward Casey, pushing Sarah in front of him. As he reached Chuck he thrust Sarah hard toward Casey. She stumbled forward. Casey caught her. Her legs felt like jelly and she knew she'd have collapsed if Casey hadn't grabbed her. She felt, more than heard, the growl emanating from Casey's chest.

Sarah turned to see that Daniel had grabbed Chuck's arm with one hand, the other was pushing the pistol into Chuck's injured left side. She heard Chuck hiss out a painful breath.

"Just in case it's not clear," Daniel said, "right now the RGB doesn't know about my auction plans. So, if you follow me, I'll kill Chuck. And if I kill Chuck, the RGB pays me. He's worth more to me alive, but dead is a viable option. So, the only chance Chuck has to stay alive is if you don't follow us."

Sarah stretched her hand toward Chuck, tears blurring her vision. "I love you, Chuck," she choked out. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Chuck said, barely above a whisper.

But Sarah heard the conviction in his voice, and she knew it was true.

Daniel jerked Chuck around and marched him across the garage to the office door. They walked through, heading toward the outside.

As Sarah lost sight of Chuck, the flicker of hope that had ignited in her heart a few days ago, died.

Chuck emerged from the auto shop to the large parking lot, Daniel walking next to him pressing the pistol into his side. Daniel shoved Chuck forward toward the far end of the lot. Chuck tripped and stumbled, going down on one knee. Daniel grabbed his left arm and jerked him to his feet sending bolts of pain as sharp as jagged glass shooting through his side. He let out a muffled cry, trying to stifle the pain and continue moving forward.

His vision started to blur as nausea churned in his stomach. The world started to spin and he knew he was about to pass out.

Goddamned concussion. Not now!

Chuck had a plan. But for it to work he had to stay conscious. He stopped and bent forward, trying to let the blood come back to his brain.

"Keep moving," Daniel snapped.

"I need a second," Chuck said.

"Move or you're dead," Daniel said.

Chuck didn't move. He needed to buy some time so he could fight off his brain's attempt to force him into unconsciousness. "Go ahead," Chuck said. "Have fun dragging my body around."

No gunshot came.

Chuck dug deep, bringing up every ounce of will power he had, demanding that his body cooperate. His vision started to clear. He started to rise.

"What's wrong?" Daniel asked.

"What do you care?" Chuck said.

Daniel shrugged. "I don't. Over there," he said and pointed at an SUV sitting under one of the parking lot's light poles.

"Huh. A silver Escalade?" Chuck said, forcing a hint of disdain into his voice. "I took you for more of a Mercedes guy."

"Shut up and get in," Daniel said. He opened the driver's door and shoved Chuck down into the seat. He walked around to the passenger's side and got in. Daniel handed Chuck the keys. "Let's go."

Chuck started the car. "Where to?"

"Exit the lot and head south on ninety-nine," Daniel said.

"What?" Chuck asked. "South on ninety-nine?"

Daniel glared at Chuck. "Yes."

Where are you taking me?" Chuck asked.

"Just drive," Daniel said.

That was okay with Chuck. The longer he stayed on the road, the better the chance his plan had to work.

Daniel thought he was the master of the game, that he was the ultimate odds maker. But Chuck knew Daniel had made a huge mistake. Daniel still thought there were only three players in the game. Himself, Milae and the RGB. His arrogance had blinded him to the fact that he'd laid out the rules of the game to Chuck, Sarah and Casey, effectively bringing two new players to the table. One was Chuck. The other was the team of Sarah and Casey.

Chuck knew Sarah and Casey weren't down and out. He knew Sarah would do anything to save him. And he'd come to know that Casey was cut from the same cloth as Sarah. They wouldn't be sitting still. They'd already be moving. And right now, Chuck had an ace up his sleeve.

Sarah watched as Chuck disappeared through the door, Daniel's gun in his back. Hopeless overwhelmed her. She felt powerless and lost.

"Walker."

In the background, barely audible over her screaming thoughts, Sarah thought she heard her name. But fear pounded her mind, brutal and relentless.

"Walker."

The voice seeped through her consciousness, a little more insistent this time. Both of her arms hurt and her body was being shaken back and forth, as if in the grip of an earthquake. Sarah shook her head, trying to focus.

Then the shaking stopped. Everything went quiet.

"Sarah." The voice was quiet and soft. But her name came through as clear and loud as a ringing bell.

Sarah looked up and met the eyes of her captain. He was holding her in front of him. His face was earnest. And he'd just called her by her first name. He'd never done that before and the shock of it snapped her mind back in place.

"Sarah, are you with me?" Casey said.

"I … I think so," she stammered. She took a moment to breathe and calm herself. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay."

"Good," Casey said.

Casey's grip on her arms released slowly and Sarah concentrated on locking her knees and standing on her own. She took in several deep breaths trying to clear her thoughts and focus her mind.

"You back?" Casey asked.

"I'm good, sir," Sarah said. "Sorry, sir."

"Don't sweat it," Casey said. "We've got to get going if we're going to get the Doc back."

Sarah looked at her boss, confused. "But you said I needed to cover my own ass and if it came down to me or Chuck … to let them take him."

"Yeah," Casey said and shrugged his shoulders. "You're not the only moron in the division."

"What changed your mind," Sarah asked.

"Bartowski's got stones. More than most cops. Any Marine I know would be proud to serve with him." Casey reached out and peeled back a clump of hair, stuck together with dried blood, from the front of Sarah's face. "And the Doc loves you, kid. Fierce and hard. That kind of love — you never let it go."

Sarah felt the heat in her face and knew she'd turned scarlet. "I suppose we still need to have that talk, sir," she said.

"We just did," Casey said. Now, let's go."

Casey walked over and grabbed his pistol and rifle off the floor. "They take your weapon?"

"Yeah."

"You run a Glock, right?"

"Yes, sir."

He looked at the dead agents laying on the concrete, shaking his head. "No Austrian bricks laying around." He moved quickly to one of the fallen men. "You familiar with a Sig?"

"Standard issue in the Service," Sarah said.

Casey lifted a pistol, spare magazine and a tactical knife off the body and handed them to Sarah. "Here," he said.

Sarah put the knife in her jeans pocket and slipped the spare magazine into her jacket pocket. She dropped the magazine from the pistol and checked the chamber. It was loaded. Slamming the magazine back into the pistol she slid it into her shoulder holster and nodded at Casey. "What now?" she asked.

"We go after them," Casey said, turning and jogging toward the door.

"But how?" Sarah asked, matching his pace just a few feet behind him.

"More will be revealed," Casey said, moving through the door and picking up his pace.

Sarah had no clue what his vague answer meant, but she couldn't ask him to explain because he broke into a full-out run as they emerged from the building. Sarah followed Casey down the sidewalk for a block and then he rounded the corner onto a side street. He pulled a key FOB from his pocket and she heard a chirp from an 80's model Ford Police Interceptor parked against the curb. She'd heard rumors of the Captain's vintage Crown Victoria. She'd thought they were just tales. But here it was, in the flesh.

Casey slid into the driver's seat. Sarah dashed around and jumped in the passenger's side. Casey turned the key and the huge V-8 engine rumbled to life. He shifted into gear and hit the gas. The rear tires spun, then squealed on the pavement as the powerful car shot ahead. Without hesitation Casey navigated the car down the side street, turned onto the main street and then turned again onto highway ninety-nine, heading south. Sarah had no idea how Casey knew where to drive, but he was going there in a hurry.

Sarah braced herself against the dashboard as her boss piloted the huge car in and out of traffic with his left hand. With his right he punched buttons on a console mounted to the dashboard which housed a small computer, radio and communications array. Sarah saw a Bluetooth icon flash. She took in a sharp breath as she heard Daniel Blackbrier's voice over the car's speakers.

"Turn left at the light," Daniel's voice said.

"Left at the light, onto Harrison Avenue," Chuck's voice echoed.

At the sound of Chuck's voice Sarah stopped breathing all together. Then hope surged through her. She bent forward, trying to get closer to the speaker, even though it rang loudly throughout the car's interior.

"You don't have to repeat everything I say, Chuck. It's annoying," Daniel said.

"Sorry," Chuck said. "Habit. I play this online submarine command game. The executive officer has to repeat the captain's orders to make sure they're on the same page."

"We're not in a damn submarine," Daniel snapped. "Just drive the car."

Sarah looked at Casey whose attention was on the road. "How?" she said.

He tapped his ear. "Synching my earwig's Bluetooth."

"You've been hearing them this whole time?" Sarah asked.

Casey nodded.

Sarah thought hard, then smiled. "The glasses," she said.

"Yep."

"Can he hear us?"

"No. Transmit only. Too risky to send him in with an earpiece."

"Yeah," Sarah nodded. "Good call."

"Kid's smart," Casey said. "He knows we're listening."

"How far behind are we?

"Couple of minutes. I'm making up for lost time," Casey said as he swerved to the left to pass another slower vehicle.

Sarah braced herself against the dashboard one more time. "So, this isn't how you always drive?" Sarah asked, deadpan.

Casey glanced at her and bared his teeth in a grin.

Chapter Text

Chuck moved the large SUV into the right-hand lane.

"Stay below the speed limit," Daniel said, flicking his eyes down at the pistol in his hand, his threat obvious.

"I am," Chuck said.

As they drove Chuck ran Daniel's plan over in his mind. There was one piece that didn't line-up. And no matter how Chuck tried to reconcile it, he couldn't. If he'd seen the flaw, he knew that Daniel, who'd been working this plan for over a year, would have certainly seen it as well. Unless, it wasn't a flaw, because it wasn't part of the plan to begin with. It was time to find out.

"You're going to tell Milae they won the bid for me, no matter what they offer, aren't you?" Chuck said, breaking the silence.

Daniel glanced at Chuck, then looked back at the road.

"There's no auction. That's just the story you're going to spin for Milae. The whole thing's a scam. You're going to kill me, no matter what."

Daniel turned in his seat toward Chuck. "That's an interesting theory. Somewhat speculative, but interesting."

"You don't have to play this game anymore Daniel. It's just you and me. And you have the gun."

"Then why don't you enlighten me, Doctor," Daniel said.

"You can't force North Korea into a bidding war. That would betray them, whether they won or lost. You'd have nowhere to go. The RGB would hunt you down and kill you, no matter how long it took."

Chuck caught Daniel's frown and knew he was on the right track.

"You still plan to double-dip," Chuck continued. "You'll convince Milae and the DOD that you'll give me back to them because they're willing to pay more than North Korea. You'll have the money wired to an account. Ten seconds later, it'll be transferred out to twenty smaller, untraceable accounts."

Chuck gave Daniel a grim smile. "How am I doing?"

Daniel didn't speak, but his frown deepened.

"You'll tell them where to pick me up. But when they arrive, I won't be there. Instead, my body will be in a dumpster somewhere. You'll take proof of death — a photo, a finger, something — and present that to the RGB. As far as they're concerned, your mission will have succeeded, they'll pay you, and you'll continue to live a life of luxury. Maybe in North Korea. But more likely in an allied country like China or Russia. You'll have successfully played both sides without North Korea marking you for death. That's how you plan to cash in — a double payday."

Daniel sighed. "Beckman told me you were one of the most brilliant people she'd ever met. I couldn't see it … until now."

Daniel looked out the windshield. "At the second light, take a right," he said without skipping a beat, as if he hadn't just acknowledged he planned to kill Chuck.

Chuck let it drop. There was really nothing more to say.

"Second light, go right," Chuck repeated. But for that to make sense to Casey he needed a street name. "Ah, what street is that?"

Daniel glanced at Chuck. "It doesn't matter. Just turn right at the second light."

"Yeah, sure," Chuck said. "I just want to make sure I get the right street."

Daniel gave Chuck a confused look, replaced a moment later by wide-eyed understanding. "Dammit. You're wearing a wire," he said.

The panic Chuck had pushed down, started to rise again. If Daniel discovered the transmitter, Sarah and Casey would never be able to find him. He'd be as good as dead.

"No, I'm not," Chuck said. But he could hear the tentativeness in his voice. He'd never been a good liar, it just wasn't in his nature.

Chuck brought the SUV to a stop at the first traffic light which was red.

Daniel looked him over. When his gaze landed on Chuck's face he scowled.

"Since when did you start wearing glasses?" Daniel said.

Chuck's panic flared to life.

Daniel's free hand snaked out and ripped the glasses from Chuck's face. He put them to his eyes. "Just clear glass."

Keeping his pistol pointed at Chuck's side, Daniel braced the glasses against his knee and snapped the frame on one side near the hinge. Two small wires protruded from inside the hollow frame.

"Shit," Daniel said. He reached behind him, pressed the button to lower his window and threw the glasses out.

The light turned green.

"Drive," Daniel snarled.

Chuck moved the SUV forward. He looked in the rearview mirror, praying that he'd see Casey's huge, black car on his tail. But it wasn't anywhere behind them. Chuck had no doubt that Sarah and Casey were trying to catch up to them. Casey knew he was on this surface street, he'd heard Daniel's directions. But as soon as he made the turn at the next light, Casey would lose the trail and that would be Daniel's checkmate.

As the SUV moved along the street, Chuck realized if he was going to survive he had to save himself. He couldn't rely on a rescue from Casey and Sarah any longer. If he was ever going to see Sarah again he needed to play the hand he'd been dealt. He needed to do something, right now. He just had no idea what.

"I wasn't looking forward to this before," Daniel said, "but now, I think I'll enjoy killing you." He poked his pistol hard into Chuck's chest pressing against the bruise left by the rubber bullet. Chuck winced as the pain radiated across his chest and down into his injured left side.

Fuck. All this from a goddamned airbag.

At that thought, a flash of insight came to him. It was a long-shot, a total Hail Mary. But it was all he could think of. And he only had seconds before it would be too late to do anything.

"Turn right at the light," Daniel said.

Chuck stepped on the gas and the SUV picked up speed.

"Slow down," Daniel said. "You need to turn."

Chuck kept the huge vehicle accelerating.

Daniel shifted his gaze between Chuck and the road ahead. "What are you doing?" Daniel said, his voice nervous.

"Payback's a bitch," Chuck said.

Chuck floored the gas pedal. The acceleration forced Daniel back into his seat. Chuck veered the SUV to the right, aiming for a power pole rising out of the sidewalk ten yards ahead. His left hand locked onto the steering wheel like a vice as the big vehicle closed the distance to his huge, immovable target. His right hand dropped to his side. His timing had to be perfect for this to work.

"Stop," Daniel yelled.

Chuck kept the SUV racing forward. He cringed at the anticipated pain which he knew would hurt beyond belief. But this was his only chance.

At the last instant his right hand pushed Daniel's seatbelt button, releasing the clip from the latch. The seatbelt's retraction spring whipped it away from Daniel as the SUV hit the power pole head on.

A deafening crash pounded Chuck's ears. Pain like he'd never felt before exploded throughout his body. Then everything grew dim. The pain faded. His world went black.

Sarah stared at the car's speakers while she and Casey listened to Daniel discover the transmitter in Chuck's glasses. Desperation steam-rolled over the hope she'd felt just a moment before. The speakers crackled, followed by a high pitch screech, and then went dead.

"We have to catch up," she said. "We need line-of-sight. If we lose them, Chuck's as good as dead."

"On it," Casey said and stomped down on the accelerator, rocketing the car forward. He flipped a switch on the dash and a siren began to wail. In the rear window Sarah saw the reflection of the red and blue flashing lights mounted on the deck above the back seat. She knew similar lights were flashing through the grill slots in the front of the car.

"Faster!" Sarah pleaded.

Casey barreled forward, careening the long Ford side to side, sliding between vehicles like it was a Formula One race car. In less than a minute they'd traveled almost a mile down the road.

"Look," Sarah pointed up ahead.

Traffic was slowing, bottling up in front of them. A hundred yards ahead a trail of smoke, or maybe steam, rose into the air. Casey slowed and pulled into the right lane, going against oncoming traffic. Cars pulled over, letting him pass.

They passed the last group of stopped cars and saw the driver's side of the silver Escalade. The entire engine compartment was smashed inward, a power pole sitting in between the headlights. Both front doors were crumpled.

"Oh God, no," Sarah whispered. "Please, no."

Sarah had her handgun ready and was exiting the Ford before Casey had come to a complete stop. He killed the engine and a moment later he was right behind Sarah, his pistol in hand.

People were starting to gather on the sidewalk, gawking at the demolished SUV. Sarah couldn't see into the front compartment of the vehicle, her view blocked by the partially deflated dashboard and side air bags. There was no way to tell if either Chuck or Daniel had survived the crash. If they had, and if Daniel was conscious, he might still be armed. Now that he was cornered, he'd be more dangerous than ever.

"Get back," Sarah shouted at the crowd and waved her hand. "Police. Get back, now!"

People started to move away slowly, still trying to get a look at the carnage.

Casey stepped up beside Sarah in a half-crouch, both hands on his pistol, scrutinizing the SUV.

"You good?" Casey asked.

Sarah nodded.

"Your play, Walker," he said.

"Take the passenger's side," Sarah said. "I'll take the driver's."

Casey grunted and moved off, walking around the power pole past the front of the SUV as he moved to the other side.

Sarah raised her pistol and took a step toward the car.

Fear screamed inside her, trying to force its way from her gut to her mind. Not fear for her, but fear for Chuck. Was he okay? Was he even alive? Her heart pounded. Her muscles tensed. The adrenaline flowed. But she knew this feeling. She'd trained for it. She pushed the fear down, locking it away. She had this.

Sarah took another step. Then she heard a moan come from behind the side air bag, through the space where the door's window had been. She took another step.

"Chuck?" she called out, her voice hoarse and raw.

Another moan. Then, something that sounded like a word.

She took two more cautious steps, angling herself to the side of the SUV and away from the window incase Daniel decided to take a blind shot at her voice.

She looked over the top of the SUV and caught Casey's eyes. He raised his hand in the air and made a circular motion, indicating she should continue. She nodded.

"Chuck, is that you? Are you okay?" she said.

She heard the word again, quiet, but clear enough to make out this time. "Sarah." It was Chuck's voice. He was alive.

Every muscle and cell and nerve in Sarah's body screamed at her to secure her weapon, rush forward and dig Chuck out of the car. To take him into her arms and hold him and never let him go again. Even though the battle against that urge lasted only a moment, it felt like she'd just gone three rounds with her sensei.

Her focus returned. They hadn't cleared the scene yet. They couldn't see past the air bags into the cab. They didn't know Daniel's condition. Whether or not he was conscious. Whether or not he was still armed.

One step at a time.

"Yeah, Chuck. It's Sarah," she called back to him. "I'm here. Hold on. Just a little longer."

Sarah pulled the tactical knife from her pocket, flipped it open and held it over her head in her free hand so Casey could see. He nodded and did the same thing.

"On three," Casey said. "One … two … three."

Keeping her body to the side of the window, Sarah reached over and drew the knife horizontally across the side airbag. She did it twice more, then closed the knife and stuffed it back in her jeans. She looked over the top of the SUV at Casey again. He nodded.

Sarah grabbed the hanging pieces of airbag and pulled them cautiously aside with one hand, her pistol ready in the other. As she cleared away the plastic she could see Chuck pinned to the seat back, his seatbelt locking him in place. His face was already swelling from where he'd hit the front airbag. He turned his head slowly toward her, a grunt of pain escaping him.

"Sarah," Chuck, moaned again.

Tears spilled from Sarah's eyes and ran down her cheeks. She didn't try to stop them. She didn't need to hide her feelings for Chuck any longer. He was alive and she knew she'd never in her entire life receive a gift as precious as this.

Before she could step forward, movement caught Sarah's attention as Casey pulled away the pieces of the airbag he'd slashed on the SUV's passenger's side. His face appeared, framed in the broken-out window, centering her. Reminding her she was a cop and that he was depending on her to do things by the book.

Sarah's eyes moved to Daniel who was positioned precariously on the other side of Chuck, in the passenger's seat, his back toward Casey. He was facing her, but not sitting in his seat like Chuck. His seat back had snapped off and wedged against his left side, pushing his right side into the dashboard, pinning him there. Either his seatbelt had failed, or it hadn't been fastened.

Blood dripped from Daniel's scalp down his neck. His left arm dangled limply in front of him, probably broken. He was conscious, his eyes open. They tracked slowly up and met her gaze. Then they turned to Chuck and his lips curled back into a snarl.

Daniel's right arm started to rise. It trembled with weakness but rose quickly. Sarah strained to see into the dark cab of the SUV. As Daniel's hand moved up into the ambient light shining in through the side window frames she saw the pistol, pointed at Chuck.

There was no thought, only instinct.

"Gun!" Sarah shouted.

Her pistol snapped up, unleashing two blasts.

Red bloomed bright on the front of Daniel's white shirt.

His pistol fell and he slumped back. His eyes closed as he let out one shuddering breath.

Daniel stilled.

Sarah knew he was dead.

There was no relief. No satisfaction. No vengeance.

Instead, grief welled up from deep inside her, familiar and sad.

But she'd done her job.

To protect Chuck. To keep him safe.

She always would.

Chapter Text

Nice ride. Wanna race?" Carina said as she pulled her wheelchair up next to Chuck's as they rolled down the hallway.

"I think the hospital would frown on that," Chuck said.

"It's now or never," Carina said. "Once you reach the lobby they'll make you give it back."

"I don't think my driver would approve," Chuck said, looking back over his shoulder at Sarah who was pushing him along.

"Chicken," Carina said with a grin.

Carina turned to her other side and looked up as they moved down the hall. "How come he gets a chauffeur and I don't?"

Casey glanced down at her. "Because if I touch that thing you'll probably break all my fingers."

"Not today. I've got plans for those fingers," she said and hip-checked Casey with the side of her chair.

Casey grunted and stared straight ahead. But Chuck caught the twitch of Casey's lips as he fought not to smile.

As they approached the hospital's main lobby Chuck felt lighter, like a weight was being lifted from his soul. He wasn't a fan of hospitals and the last four days had been particularly difficult. Not that his injuries were that bad — although his improvised car crash had put new bruises on top of his old ones.

The most difficult thing had been the lack of privacy with Sarah. They'd had plenty of time to talk — about everything. But physical intimacy wasn't in the cards when one entire wall of your room was a window with people walking by twenty-four hours a day.

After Chuck had been admitted in the middle of the night the hospital had refused to allow Sarah to be with him during his examinations and procedures, because his injuries weren't life threatening and because she wasn't a family member. Even after Sarah had identified herself as a police officer the only concession the hospital would make was to allow Sarah to wait outside of Chuck's room.

When Casey had arrived an hour later and found out, he'd been livid. He'd stepped in and told the graveyard shift supervisor, in no uncertain terms, that Chuck was a high value, top secret, government asset and that under no circumstances was his bodyguard to leave his side. He guessed that Casey had used lots of glares and grunts and Marine intimidation tactics, because suddenly Sarah was back by his side and hadn't left him alone for more than ten minutes at a time in the past four days. She'd even slept on a cot in his room.

Carina turned back to Chuck. "So, the project didn't get scrapped?"

"No. The whole screw-up was Milae's fault. They put up another twenty-five million for Engram to switch-out key code modules over the next three months. So, even if Blackbrier leaked some critical information, it'll be useless to the RGB."

"So, you'll be working on that for the next couple of months?" Casey said.

"Nah," Chuck said. "Beckman and Stansfield are looking at the twenty-five million as a kind of contract penalty. My team will have the work done in a week. That's the power of modular systems design."

"Walker," Carina said. "Tell him to stop. You know what his dirty-talk does to me."

Sarah laughed. "Not as much as it does to me," she said, leaning down and giving Chuck a kiss on the lips.

"So, what's next for you guys," Carina asked."

Chuck and Sarah looked at each other, then back to her.

"Well," Sarah said, "Beckman gave Chuck a month off to heal, and also as sort of a reward. So, I'm going to take him home and make sure he takes it easy and gets better."

"You're also going to continue as his bodyguard," Casey said.

Chuck smiled to himself. He and Casey had arranged for a quick discussion about this issue during one of the few times Sarah had left Chuck to shower and change.

"Really?" Sarah said. "Is that still necessary?"

"It is until he's back in the office and Beckman makes other arrangements," Casey said.

"Not that I object," Sarah said, "but I thought-"

"Just deal with it, Walker," Casey grumbled.

Chuck turned to see Sarah's face light up in one of her mind-numbing smiles. "Roger that, sir."

They arrived in the large lobby and Chuck and Carina rolled out into the middle. Chuck stood and Sarah pushed the wheel-chair up against the wall.

"So, what are you gonna do with your free time, Chuckles?" Carina asked. "Sarah said you were planning on selling your house and maybe living on a yacht. It's good living." She winked at him.

Chuck let out a laugh. "Actually, I'm thinking about keeping my house."

"You are?" Sarah said.

Chuck turned to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I need more room than I have in the loft. But my house is still pretty big, so I was thinking about getting a roommate. Can you recommend anyone?"

Sarah slung her arms carefully over Chuck's shoulders and laced her fingers behind his neck. "Actually, I think I can," she said, her smile impossibly bright.

Chuck gave Sarah a quick kiss, then shifted one arm around her waist and turned to face their friends.

"And I thought I might do some traveling," he said.

"After what you've been through, you deserve to do something fun," Carina said. "Where to?"

Carina's sly smile was subtle, but Chuck caught it. She knew exactly where he planned to go. So did Casey.

Chuck pivoted toward Casey and held out his hand. Casey pulled two airline ticket folios from inside his jacket and gave them to Chuck.

Chuck turned back to Sarah whose eyes were wide as saucers.

"Some place I've always wanted to go," Chuck said, answering Carina, but looking at Sarah.

Sarah's eyes were locked on the tickets in his hand. Chuck held them out to her. "I was hoping you might like to go with me?" he said, his voice almost a whisper.

Sarah hesitated, then reached out and took the tickets into her trembling hands. She struggled to open one, then looked it over. She took in a sharp breath. Her head snapped up and she stared at Chuck, her eyes welling with tears. Then she rushed into his arms heedless of his injuries. He didn't mind.

"I love you, Chuck," Sarah said, burying her face into his neck. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too, Sarah," he said, and held her tight against him.

Chuck felt the tears welling in his own eyes.

At long last, he was finally going to Paris.

END