My heart pounded in my ears as I ran into the alley as fast as I could. My mind raced, counting steps, estimating the speed of the guards, following Zach's probable location based on the 5:42 minute mile I knew he was capable of running.

It was close. Maybe too close.

I felt one of the men gaining on my right, so I swung my arm harder until my elbow connected with his face, and I heard his body ricochet off the brick wall.

I pushed faster, straining every muscle with the hope of making our rendezvous just an instant sooner.

Then I saw him. His profile was barely visible in the darkness, but I could have recognized the slope of Zach's shoulders, and that determined set to his jaw absolutely anywhere.

I didn't stop. I ran past Zach, palming the drive into his pocket. He didn't hesitate - not even a momentary hitch in his gait- but I knew it was safe.

My assailants weren't expecting another agent. Zach clothes-lined one man as he ran past, and casually flung another over his shoulder, using the man's own weight against him. And then he was gone, off into the night.

12 minutes and 42 seconds. That's how long I had to make it back to the extraction point. The last of the men came at me, but I was ready, smashing my foot into his chest in a classic Sclarsky maneuver. He fell backwards, and I could have run, but I hadn't finished yet. The mission plan said I was to incapacitate all the guards, so there would be no difficulties at the extraction point.

I used the moment to slap a Napotine patch on the man I'd just kicked, and sent a roundhouse flying toward the man I'd elbowed into the wall earlier. Apparently he'd taken it personally.

He ducked my kick, and his fingers clenched around my throat as he slammed my back into the brick wall. From the ground, I heard the Napotine-d guard mumble in Arabic "no. . .kill. . .drive. . ."

I felt the man holding me roll his eyes. "People are easy to search when they're dead," he joked back. It sounded prettier in Arabic.

I tried to remember that as a Gallagher Girl, breathing is sometimes optional.

"No," Napotine guard mumbled. "Boy."

My guard sighed, reached behind his back with his spare arm, and fired his gun in the distance. As he pulled the trigger, I smashed my forehead into his nose as hard as I could.

He dropped me, and I followed with another blow from under his chin. He fell, and I followed the punch with another Napotine patch. Then I ran toward Zach.

Zach was curled into a ball on the ground, but when I grabbed his shoulders, he screamed. My hand came away covered in his blood.

"Flesh wound," he winced. "We have to go."

My blow had knocked the guard off balance. He'd hit Zach in the shoulder. He'd meant to hit Zach in the chest. I didn't dare let myself think about it.

"10 minutes and 38 seconds," I rattled off. "Can you make it?"

He nodded, and I hauled him to his feet.

Then we raced off into the night like nothing had happened.

Except that it had.

AN: Hello, everyone, I'm back! Thanks so much to everyone who enjoyed Til Death Do Us Part with me last summer. Here's a new story I was inspired to write while filling in Zach and Cammie's history. I'm 98% finished with this, and really excited to share it with all of you. I hope you enjoy reading it. After these first four chapters, I'll be updating every Sunday (US).