A/N: "Hey Chuck, keep running." Time for Sarah to lean on a couple of old friends. Can't say it often enough - I really appreciate the feedback and comments.

Chuck vs The Bodyguard

Chapter 10

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 transportation to where she planned to hide out, 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."