She grabbed his hand and practically dragged him out of the restaurant. A couple of guys near the door smirked at them, but she ignored them and pulled Chuck outside.

"To the left," Chuck gasped in her ear.

She swiveled her head to the left and saw the Fulcrum agent ambling up the street without any apparent idea that he was being followed.

She kept a tight hold on Chuck's hand and set off in pursuit of the agent.

They'd only taken a few steps when the man paused, and turned around.

"Crap," Sarah swore under her breath, and pasted a big, happy smile on her face. She turned, and pushed Chuck up against the wall.

"Sarah, what are you do—" Chuck said, startled, as he found himself pressed flat against the brick wall of the restaurant, with Sarah's body pressed against his.

"Shh," she crooned. She kissed him lightly on the lips. "Keep an eye on him," she whispered to him. "Tell me when he moves." She ran her finger along his jaw. Chuck stared at her. "What's he doing now?"

Chuck blinked, and stole a glance to his left. "Ah, some guy stopped next to him. They're talking."

"Good," she breathed. She touched her lips to his again. "Keep watching…"

He whimpered slightly, but obediently darted his eyes to the left. "That's great, Chuck. Just keep doing that." She placed her hand on his chest and leaned into him, kissing him for real now.

He tasted sweet, but subtle. His mouth was warm, and his lips were amazingly soft. She let her tongue snake past his lips and duel with his. God, he was a good kisser. You wouldn't expect a nerd to be such a good kisser. Had he read a book on it, or something? Did they teach it at Stanford? Chuck hadn't had a lot of girlfriends in the past, or she'd think he'd been refining his technique on a line of women before her. But there weren't a lot of other girls that had taught him everything he needed to know about how to kiss a woman so all rational thought left her head. Just Jill.

Jill. Sarah broke off the kiss abruptly and peered up at Chuck.

The idiot's eyes were closed.

"Chuck, you idiot, you're supposed to be watching the mark!" she hissed. "Open your eyes."

He opened his eyes slowly and blinked, dazed. "Wha-? Who?"

"The mark, you're supposed to be watching the mark!"

"Oh, yeah…" he looked over. "Uh, he's still talking to that guy."

"What is the matter with you? I asked you to do one simple thing, and you completely lost focus! I need you to concentrate."

"Well, excuse me, Miss-being-all-seductive-in-the-restaurant-and-then-throwing-me-up-against-the-nearest-wall, but we don't all have the iron-clad self-control that you do."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm just saying, you've obviously never kissed yourself, or you'd know that it's physically impossible to concentrate on anything else when Sarah Walker kisses you!"

Sarah said the first thing that came into her head. "Bryce never had a problem with it."

His eyes narrowed and she realized her mistake too late. Comparing him to Bryce had been a terribly hurtful thing to do. She knew how sensitive Chuck was about Bryce, and about her… and about her relationship with Bryce. Now she'd not only implied that Bryce was a better spy than him, but maybe even implied he was a better kisser than him, which couldn't be further than the truth…

"Wow," Chuck said slowly.

"Chuck, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…" she trailed off. She eyed him nervously. "What are you thinking right now?"

"I'm thinking… that I have never had a lower opinion of Bryce Larkin than I do at this moment."

Sarah started, and stared at him. There he went again, saying something nice to her when she'd expected him to be hurt, or mad, or anything but kind, and, well, flattering. This was again, one of the things that made her crazy. He was supposed to be the goofy, awkward geek—so why was it between the two of them, he was able to say something so… so sweet in a completely self-assured way, and she, who was supposed to be the sophisticated, never-loses-her-cool super spy… she was always the bumbling awkward one in their personal relationship? She felt a blush start to creep up on her cheeks, and said the first thing she could think of. "Fine. You kiss. I'll keep watch."

She grabbed his lapels and twisted them around so now her back was against the bricks, and he was pressed up against her.

She glanced over and saw the two gentlemen still standing on the corner, apparently engaged in a heated debate.

Chuck brought one hand up to her cheek hesitantly. His eyes flickered down to her mouth, then back up to hers.

She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

His eyes narrowed again, and she remembered too late the thing about provoking him. You know, the losing control and being kissed within an inch of her life thing. He buried his hands in her hair and brought her face up to his for a mind-bending kiss. She made a small noise that sounded suspiciously like a whimper, and succumbed to his assault on her mouth. That was the thing about Chuck. He was so bad at maintaining a cover, and so good at being… real. Her eyes slid closed against her will, and it was with a supreme effort that she managed to pry them open again and glance over at their mark.

She made a noise of frustration and pushed him away slightly.

"What? What is it?" He panted, slightly out of breath. "Did they move?"

"No, I can't see when you're doing that. You're too tall- your head gets in the way. Kiss my neck or something."

"Neck," Chuck repeated. "Okay, got it."

He leaned in again, dropping soft kisses onto her neck. She fought the urge to let her eyes roll back in her head and kept her eyes on the prize—that is, the mark. With Chuck's head out of the way, she could see clearly. "That's good, Chuck. Perfect."

"You like that?" Chuck asked into her neck. The sound of his voice so close vibrated against her skin. "I've got plenty more where that came from." And he started sucking on a place behind her ear.

"I didn't mean—" Oh, God, where had he learned to do that? She unconsciously tilted her head to give him better access, and she realized she was clutching Chuck's shirt in a death grip in an unintended effort to pull him even closer to her. She could barely see straight, and she was slightly concerned that she seemed to be making conspicuous gasping and sighing noises of contented pleasure. She twisted her head violently to the side, and saw the mark's heel disappearing around the corner. The other man was no longer in sight. She swore.

"I gotta say, I wouldn't have expected you to be the type to talk dirty, Sarah, but I've got to admit it's pretty hot," Chuck panted, his lips still working their magic on her neck.

"The mark," Sarah ground out, breaking away from Chuck with difficulty. He didn't seem inclined to let her go, and she had to admit she was reluctant to move away from his grip. "He's on the move. Come on, we've got to go." She grabbed his hand and dragged him up the sidewalk.

"You really know how to kill the mood," Chuck grumbled, tripping slightly as he struggled to keep up with her.

Sarah ignored him. She took a hard left where the mark had turned, and Chuck bumped against her, causing her to stumble. His hands settled on her waist to steady her, and she covered his hand with hers to keep him moving forward.

Something was wrong. She couldn't see the mark. He couldn't have been that far ahead of them. And where was Casey?

She stopped dead, and Chuck ran into her again. They stood like that for a second, his warm body flush against her back, and she realized what was going on. Slowly, she covered Chuck's arms with her own, keeping his arms wrapped firmly around her, and turned around, keeping her body in between him and whatever trouble they were about to face.

The mark was standing in front of them, just as she knew he would be, pointing a gun right at them.

He smiled slightly, and there was something familiar in his face. "Hello, Agent Walker."

She squinted at him. "Excuse me, do I know you?"

He laughed lightly. "Ah, of course, you don't recognize me. I had to have extensive reconstructive surgery after our last meeting. Convenient, really, in the end, for creating a disguise which you wouldn't be able to recognize."

"I don't…"

"You smashed my nose in and shattered my jaw with those delicate fists of yours," he said flatly.

Light dawned. "Jameson."

"Ah, you aren't quite as fickle as you seem. You remember me after all."

"How's your knee?" she said coldly.

"It troubles me a bit when it rains," he said offhandedly. "But, then, it doesn't rain very often in L.A., so that's fortunate." His eyes met Chuck's. "She bashed in my kneecap with a lead pipe, in case you were wondering."

"Good for her," Chuck muttered.

Sarah interrupted, bringing Jameson's attention back to her. "What's unfortunate is that you're still able to walk. I didn't think you'd be able to, or I wouldn't have left you after our little… disagreement."

"Yes, but then, if you hadn't, you wouldn't have been able to stop that bus from blowing up in Cairo."

"Now that I think about it, it might have been an acceptable trade off to take the extra time to shoot you."

He actually laughed. "I don't think so. You've never been able to resist protecting the little people. Just like you're protecting this little person behind you. But you seem even more invested in his welfare than those little children on the bus. So I'm curious… who is this person you protecting now, and how did he become so important to you?"

Chuck's arms tightened around her waist. "He's nobody," Sarah told Jameson. "Just somebody I picked up tonight to blow off steam."

Chuck's grip slackened slightly, and she could picture the hurt in his eyes.

Jameson laughed again. "You know, you really are a terrible liar, for a spy. Try again."

Chuck lifted his head. "I'm Charles Carmichael. We work together."

"Is that what you're calling it these days? If that were true, I highly doubt Agent Walker here would have been so sloppy tonight as to let me maneuver you into this position in the first place."

"He's an analyst," Sarah said. "New to fieldwork."

"Really?" Jameson pointed the gun at Chuck. "Analyze something, then."

Chuck met him dead in the eye. "You're a rogue British agent that's recently joined up with Fulcrum. You're running a money laundering outfit to cover the profits of stolen weapons, which is a serious step down for you after the covert operations you were in charge of in Cairo and Belarus, but definitely a step up after the assignment they gave you in Colombia after you screwed up the mission in Cairo and Agent Walker kicked your ass. She used a copper pipe, by the way, not a lead one, and it cost you $40,000 dollars for the knee replacement surgery, plus another $65,000 for the facial reconstruction. Incidentally, I think she did you a favor there, because you were really much less attractive before she quite rightly smashed your face in."

"Okay, I've heard enough," Jameson interrupted. "Guess I've found myself another agent after all." He took a set of keys out of his pocket.

"What's that for…?" Chuck trailed off.

Jameson pressed a button and the trunk of a small silver sports car popped open next to them. "Get in. Both of you."

"The trunk? Again? What is it with bad guys and the trunk? Really, we could just sit quietly in the backseat, maybe watch a DVD," Chuck suggested as he and Sarah were forced into the trunk yet again.

"This car doesn't have a DVD player," Jameson grunted. "Maybe once I upgrade I could reconsider." And he slammed the trunk closed unceremoniously.

"This car…" Chuck grunted as he shifted against her. "Is smaller than the last one."

That, Sarah thought, was an understatement. She and Chuck were wedged tightly into the small space, Chuck's lanky frame curled around hers. She thought her head might be resting on his arm, but she couldn't turn to look. His other arm was wrapped around her waist. She ran her hand over his forearm. "Chuck, are you all right? You must be awfully uncomfortable."

"I'm okay," he said. His arm tightened around her waist. "I've been less comfortable before, in my life."

"Me too," she said softly.

"What do you think happened to Casey?"

"They must have gotten to him. Otherwise he'd have intercepted Jameson before he got to us."

"I'm sorry about that," Chuck said. "You were right, I should have just done what you said, and not gotten, you know, distracted."

"Chuck, you didn't do anything wrong." She paused. "Actually, it's my fault. I lost focus."

"Y-you lost focus?"

"Yes. I let him out of my sight when I was supposed to be watching him."

"You lost focus," Chuck repeated. He paused. "Um, when you lost focus, was that… you know, right after I got distracted?"

She hesitated a fraction of a second. "Yes."

"Huh." Pause. "So, you're saying... I caused you to lose focus."

She ignored him. "I should have known Jameson was setting us up for a trap. My negligence was inexcusable."

"Totally," Chuck agreed. "This is all your fault." She could hear the wide grin in his voice as plain as if it were right in front of her. If she could see him, she was sure he'd have the same happy, goofy look on his face as he'd had that morning. The idiot was held at gunpoint, kidnapped, and was now facing almost certain death, and he was actually happy about it because it proved she was not unaffected by him.

"Chuck, are you serious about Jill?" she blurted out.

His arm around her waist slackened. There was a long pause. "I want to be," he said finally. "I care about her, I always will. And I don't have to pretend anything to be with her. But we're not the same people we used to be. And the thing is-"

The trunk popped open and Jameson glared down at them. "Cozy?"

"Do you mind?" Chuck said. "We're kind of having a moment here."

"Get out," he snarled.

Chuck and Sarah climbed out obediently. Sarah's eyes darted around them, taking in the specs of the situation. They were in a darkened underground parking lot, apparently deserted. Great. No way to tell where they were. Jameson prodded them with the gun to get them moving, and they walked towards an elevator.

He pushed the button to go up, and they waited a moment until the elevator dinged and the doors opened. He motioned for them to go in first.

Chuck, standing next to the elevator buttons, cleared his throat. "What floor?"

"Lobby level," the man growled.

Chuck pushed the button for the lobby level. "So, how 'bout those Dodgers this year?" he said in an effort to break the tension.

"I do not follow baseball," Jameson said harshly.

"Right, you're probably more a cricket kind of fellow," Chuck said wisely. "I could never understand cricket, myself. Part of being American, I guess, like not knowing the name of Canada's prime minister and always asking for ketchup for our meat, no matter the venue."

"Enough chitchat," he barked as the doors opened again. "Get moving."

They exited the elevator into the lobby. It looked like any other non-descript lobby in a non-descript business building to Sarah, but Chuck must have recognized something from his flash, because he squeezed her hand and whispered urgently, "It's the bank. Washington First National, prime lender since 1893."

She looked up automatically, checking for security. There were security cameras affixed to the walls, as predicted, but they'd been disabled.

Jameson guided them through the main operating space of the bank, past empty teller booths, and financial officers' desks collecting dust. Clearly the place had not been functioning as a bank for some time. Jameson led them behind the teller's counter.

They could see Casey being held at gunpoint a few feet away. He and Sarah exchanged chagrined glances. Chuck, meanwhile, was staring around himself, oblivious.

There were a half a dozen men in all, and they appeared to be loading up bags full of cash from the giant safe in the back of the bank.

"Clearing out, huh?" Chuck said to Jameson. "Probably a smart move. I read in the paper the city is planning a restoration of this bank starting next week. All those construction workers would probably notice somebody producing thousands of dollars in fake money every day if you stuck around here."

"Do you ever stop talking?" Jameson said, exasperated.

"But the thing is, where are you going to go?" Chuck continued, undeterred. "This has pretty much been the perfect set up. Nobody's watching you coming and going, the building's been abandoned for years, you have plenty of space for your counterfeit machine, plus I imagine you've set up a secure database to track assets gained from your arms deals and places to hide them. Clever, really to switch the real money with these fake greenbacks so nobody misses it."

"So glad you approve," Jameson said sarcastically.

"It's a good plan. And I'm sure you have a back up plan to protect the money in case it got transferred to the wrong account somehow. I mean, after all your hard work, it would suck to have nothing but several million dollars in fake money to show for it."

"That would never happen," Jameson scoffed.

Sarah glanced at Chuck, wondering where he was going with all this.

Chuck paused dramatically. "Are you sure about that?"

Jameson pointed to a man on his left. "See him? He's the top technical security guy we've got. Nothing gets by him."

"That's funny, because I'm the top technical security guy they've got," Chuck said confidently, pointing to Casey and Sarah. "And I can tell you, something got by him."

Jameson hesitated. "You're lying."

Chuck shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe we've been tracking you for months, and we've traced every penny you've wired through the Caymans, Panama, Switzerland, and Dubai, and we've alerted several very unhappy Colombian drug lords you've been cheating them for over a year and a half. If that's the case, it's my calculation that they should be delivering you into a whole world of pain sometime in, oh, I don't know, the next two days. Unless you can figure out how to override their system and convince them you really have deposited the right number of millions of dollars into their accounts."

Jameson glanced at his top technical security guy, who was looking nervous. "Well?" he barked. "Is this guy full of shit, or what?"

The top technical security guy shook his head uncertainly. "I- I don't know, boss."

Jameson stared at him. "What the fuck do you mean, you don't know? Are you saying this could be true?"

The other man shrugged nervously. "Well, my security's tight… but how would he know about the routing path I used for the money?"

Jameson swore. "What the fuck do we do now? Can you figure out if he's telling the truth?"

The other man shook his head. "If he breached the system without me knowing it, he must have put up counter defensive measures to block his actions from my view."

"And if he did move the money, how do we get it back?"

Top security guy shrugged helplessly. "If he's the one who overcame my security measures, he's the only one who would have access to it. You'd have to let him get onto the database and move it back."

Jameson turned back to Chuck with a look of loathing. "Fine. Get onto the database and move the money back."

Chuck nodded, and moved toward the computer sitting on a desk near the safe door. He made eye contact with Sarah and raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

She raised her eyebrows back at him questioningly, and he nodded imperceptibly, apparently satisfied with the exchange. The only trouble was, Sarah had no idea what they had just communicated. She stared at him as he sat down at the computer, as did everyone in the room. He looked back up at her and gave her an extra meaningful look with super raised eyebrows. She huffed to herself. Just because she was a spy didn't make her a mind reader. Clearly, he expected her to do something to help his plan. She, however, had no clue what his plan was, and didn't have the faintest idea how she was supposed to help him with it, what with the madman watching her suspiciously and at least five guns trained on her.

So she did the only thing she could think of: she went for the diversion. Clearing her throat loudly, she said, "So, Jameson, how'd you get hooked up with this operation in the first place? Doesn't seem like your usual style."

"My usual style being what?" sneered Jameson.

Sarah shrugged, trying to keep his eyes on her. "Cruel. Sadistic. Come on, who's really getting hurt in this one?"

His lip curled in an unpleasant smile. "Present company excluded?"

"Yeah, I mean, obviously you didn't mean for us to get involved, you just stumbled across us at that restaurant. So who is your real target here?"

"What makes you think I'm not just in it for the money? Maybe I'm just trying to make good with my insurance company, as your friend says."

"Because you've gotta be burned about what happened in Cairo. They just cut you loose after everything you did for them? You were stuck for two years in a make-work assignment- that's plenty of time for someone of your caliber to think up some decent revenge. My guess is Colombians aside, this thing you're working on now has got something to screw your British traitor brass but good."

He chuckled. "Agent Walker, you think too well of me. I'm not nearly as ambitious as you're making me out to be. I'm a strictly traditional mercenary- I go where the money is, and then I get out."

Sarah's eyes darted to Chuck. He was bending over the computer, but when he felt her eyes on him, he looked up and made a 'continue,' motion with his hand.

What was he up to? She snapped her eyes back to Jameson. "I hope it's worth your while, then."

He laughed. "Oh, it is. And no pesky blondes after me with copper pipes, either. I'm really moving up in the world."

"It really is a pity I didn't crush your other knee when I had the chance," Sarah muttered.

She glanced back at Chuck. He looked up at her and gave her the 'ok' sign. Good. That was good. Of course, it would be even better if she had the faintest idea what he was doing, but 'ok' was good.

Jameson followed her gaze to Chuck. "Well?" he said. "Is everything in its proper place?"

"Sure, sure, nothing to worry about. No Colombians will be coming out of the woodwork any time soon."

"Is that so?"

"Yep."

"You're sure?"

"Totally."

"Would you be willing to bet your life on it?"

"Absolutely," Chuck said confidently.

Jameson smiled without mirth and raised his gun. He swung around and pointed it straight at Sarah. "Would you be willing to bet her life on it?"

Chuck's face fell, and his eyes swept back and forth between Jameson and Sarah. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, don't hurt her, okay? I did what you wanted, so there's no reason to hurt her. Please don't hurt her."

"If you did what I wanted, there's really no need for me to keep her alive, now, is there?"

Chuck came out from behind the desk, walking towards Jameson slowly with his hands out in front of him in a gesture of supplication. "Oh, come on now, I just sent 100 million dollars into a very nice account for you, and you're still sore about a little old knee replacement surgery? With the amount of money we just provided you with, you could get six new knees and a couple dozen hips- whaddya say we let bygones be bygones and forget about shooting anybody, ok?" He eased his way in front of Jameson, entreating him in that nervous, yet endearing way of his. Too late, Sarah realized he had maneuvered himself between her and the gun. He was trying to protect her again.

She was going to kill him.

First, however, they needed to get out of this. She shifted slightly, but if she tried to move now, she was sure to spook Jameson into firing before she got Chuck out of harm's way. She looked at Casey. He shook his head. They were outnumbered four to one. Odds she wouldn't mind taking on in other circumstances, but not while a traitorous sadist had a gun trained on Chuck.

Chuck glanced back at her, and she could have sworn he actually winked at her. Casually, he put his right hand behind his back. He opened his fist, and started ticking down the seconds with his fingers, drawing them back into the fist one by one. Five, four, three, two…

A deafening alarm sounded, and pandemonium broke loose. Casey charged Jameson, who had let his guard down in his surprise at the blaring alarm, and Sarah rounded on the two guys closest to her, clocking the first one before he knew what hit him, and taking the second one out with a powerful roundhouse kick. Chuck, meanwhile, kicked the top security guy in the shin, and smashed the keyboard over his head. Then he turned to Sarah. "We've got to get out of here, or we're going to be locked in with these guys for the next twenty minutes, or however long it takes for the police to get here, whichever comes first."

"Okay," she nodded. She smashed her fist into a third assailant's nose and then grabbed Chuck's hand. "Which way?"

"This way," Chuck said, heading towards the back door.

"Casey, come on," Sarah called.

Casey kicked Jameson's bad knee and left him writhing on the floor.

The metal grate used to protect the door at night was starting to drop down. Chuck flung himself underneath it, pulling Sarah along behind him. The thing was only a couple of feet above the floor by the time Casey dove and slid under it, and it closed with a clang as they sprinted down the hall and out into the parking garage.

Chuck was running full tilt towards the car Jameson had kidnapped them in, but Sarah slowed down. "Chuck, hang on. If they're locked in there, we should wait for the police to get here and make sure they know what's going on."

Chuck shook his head. "No time. Top security guy has probably figured out what I did by now, and he's probably going to override the locks. If we don't get out of here now, they could be all over us in two minutes. You want to take a chance the cops are going to get here in that amount of time in L.A. traffic?"

"Bartowski's got a point," Casey said, yanking open the car door and diving in the backseat. "Let's get the hell out of Dodge and worry about your friend later."

Sarah sighed, but complied. She got in the front seat and hotwired the car in under fifteen seconds. Chuck, in the passenger seat, watched admiringly. "That's really quite impressive," he commented.

Sarah was not in the mood for compliments. "Chuck, what the hell were you thinking?" she said as she peeled out of the parking spot and hit the gas. "You compromised your safety, again. Do you realize how dangerous Jameson is? He could have shot you! I know you think yourself quite the hero, but I'm the agent, you're the asset. I'm supposed to protect you, not the other way around. Don't you ever, ever put yourself in front of a gun for me again, or I'll make you regret it for the rest of your miserable life!"

Chuck's smile faded. "Gee, thanks, Chuck, for devising a plan to get us out of that mess. Really, what would we do without you?" he said sarcastically.

"How'd you get the alarm to go off, anyway?" Casey asked from the backseat.

"I flashed on top security guy and his file had his birthday in it. Most people are boringly predictable when they set passwords, even technical wizards, so I took a chance that he was too, and hacked into his system using his birthday as the password. The bank's old security system was still functioning, it was just turned off. I hacked into the central system and hit the panic button."

"Nice work," Casey said grudgingly.

It was brilliant, but Sarah was too mad to acknowledge that. She pressed the gas pedal to the floor, and they shot out of the parking structure and headed back to the castle.