A/N: this is the end. Finally. yech. well, no, actually you've all been pretty nice considering I normally have her drawn and quartered emotionally by now. BTW, the reason the barmaid at the "Last Hurrah" doesn't have a name is because I promised her a cameo role. I don't own them. I'm finished. yes, this chapter is short but I got to pick SWMNBN at the N'awlins airport. She's finally come to her senses.

~Armor-Plated-Rat~

Chuck looked in the rear view mirror. Headlights, gaining steadily about 3 miles back. This was a long straight stretch. He killed his own lights and was slowing down, no gas and no brake, preparing to flow off the road at one of the secondary roadways that wasn't plowed. Less chance of being noticed if he used a well-rutted one.

The back tires of the Jeep hit the black ice and lost all purchase. The torque of the engine twisted the Jeep's path and it turned to the left, across the lanes and toward the lakeshore. Chuck tried to steer and dropped the Jeep into a lower gear trying to grab some traction once the front wheels hit the snow after he broke through the berm of plowed snow that had accumulated over the winter. Unfortunately for Chuck it had the consistency of ferroconcrete and the front of the Jeep crumpled like a Styrofoam cup.

He didn't really lose consciousness it's just that when an airbag deploys, it does tend to knock the crap out of you and shocks you into inactivity. He couldn't tell you how long he'd been sitting there. The best laid plans of mice and men and all that poetic crap aside he knew his ass was in a crack. His only advantages had been speed and deception. His driving days were over for a bit. With speed down for the count that left deception.

It was Pam who saw Charlie's wrecked Jeep. "There, there's Charlie's Jeep. He must have hit a patch of ice, crossed the lanes and slammed into the berm. He could be hurt, Sarah, turn over there."

Sarah was a much better Alpine driver that Chuck could ever hope to be. With skill and grace of many hours' practice, she eased across the lanes and pulled up beside the Jeep and reached across the lap of her passenger and popped open the glove box. She pulled out her Glock .40 and jacked a round into the chamber. Pam looked like she was going to pee her pantaloons.

In the coldest voice Pam had ever heard from her friend Sarah aka 'Crazy Painter Lady', she said, "I wasn't kidding about any of it. Stay in the car." The irony of those words.

She moved over the ice like a dancer, coming around behind the vehicle and opening the passenger door. Just as she'd suspected, he was gone. She froze as she heard the snick of the safety being released.

"So, it's going to be you, huh? Casey didn't think you'd be able to do it but obviously he was wrong."

She started to turn around but the muzzle of his pistol jabbed in her neck stopped her. Then it was gone, followed by the snick of a reengaged safety.

He tossed the pistol onto the front seat of the Jeep.

"You seem quite capable of far more than anyone would believe, Sarah. Still, if it's got to be someone, I'm glad it's not a stranger. Tell Pam that I gave "Last Hurrah" to her sister. It's legit. All the paper work is done. Tell her I said…"

"You talk too much, Charlie, we're going to have to work on that." She tossed her Glock beside his on the front seat and turned, putting her arms around his neck and whispering "Hello, Charlie, I'm Sarah."

The first kiss was slow and brief. Not as intense as the movies would have filmed it. No frantic kisses, slurpy noises, constant breaking and rekissing, sucking faces and dueling tongues.

Nope, the first kiss was more a greeting between old friends. An exchange of hello's from travelers long apart, unsure if they were still welcome in each others' arms. It was tender and tentative for much time had passed and each had changed in ways unknown to the other.

He broke the kiss and stared at her. A single tear was balanced on her eyelid and he brushed it away with the back of a finger tip.

"Chuck, Charlie, hell, Casey tracked me down finally yesterday. I retired and left the CIA and he couldn't find me. I didn't know about the plan, Chuck, I'm so sorry. You've been alone out here in the cold but you've done so well. I logged on to the web site for the first time last night. I registered but didn't see you. I'm so sorry, baby, I've missed you and I've been so alone." The words rushed out, still with meaningful sounds but it was the emotion they conveyed that swayed him.

The kiss this time was different. Like old friends comfortable in their skins, there was no need for pretext. His tongue touched her lips in invitation and she opened her mouth enough that hers could touch his in time- honored greeting. She moaned a question and he sighed an answer.

"How about we head back to town, return these would-be rescuers to their warm abodes and then you close up the bar and we can talk in the warmth and comfort of a nice warm bed. There's so much to tell you and I want to hear about every second of your life here. But what's really important is that we maintain our cover in front of these people.

She knew the minute she said it that it was the wrong thing to say. She knew he'd misinterpret it. He was living out here on the edge and he'd become sharp as knives. He hadn't survived the last year being less than superlative. Hunter became prey again. She measured the distance from her hand to her gun. She hadn't reset the safety, so advantage Walker. He didn't have to turn around but he did have to lever the safety to fire.

His sigh conveyed an incredible amount of data for something so brief and transient. Betrayal, hurt, frustration, anger, despair and finally, resignation. All in a sound that lasted less than 3 seconds.

"Just do it, Sarah, just get it over with. No more lies, deception, or betrayal, end it, Agent Walker and take the girls home, unharmed. They're innocents and you can always come up with a story to explain why you had to terminate an escaped prisoner, dangerous terrorist, infected mental patient or a serial killer." He dropped to his knees on the frozen road and stared at the ground. He heard a sound, a sob, and then Sarah fell to her knees, threw her arms around him and sobbed into his parka as if the entire world had just ended and it was her fault. For her world had ended and it was her fault.

"Oh, Chuck, I meant to protect your cover. You can't be Chuck Bartowski again. You're someone else now and I lost Chuck Bartowski but I've found Charlie Malone and I'll never let him go. He's all I want in this world and all I'll ever need. So please, take me to town, close the bar, take me to bed and make love to me until the world ends, Charlie Malone. I love you."

Epilogue of Sorts

From the Strait Times, July 4, 2010

Local artist and club owner marry. A private wedding ceremony was conducted at the home of local gallery owner Pamela Cross. There were no details reported although it had been noted that several of the guests were in military attire, that one female guest was reported to have exploded with joy and that several Gulfstream aircraft in the livery of the United States Air Force were seen arriving and departing with various dignitaries.

The bride is new to the community but has already made a name for herself in the art world. Every one of her paintings was purchased by an anonymous and eccentric collector who refuses to share the work with the world. The groom owns "Last Hurrah" and is well known to locals as the man who tamed Earline Fortenberry and ended her predations on hapless male speeders traveling on US2 toward Brevort.

The couple has no intention of relocating and planned on a honeymoon in the apartment above the "Last Hurrah. So if the bar is rockin' don't go knockin'

Yech… sweet enough?