NIk's Notes: I've been waiting all damned day in this refrigerator of a house waiting for the airline to confirm our flights and I decided to post a couple chapters but FF won't let me do it as a new update so here I am waiting for '60' to be '59' waiting waiting waiting waiting... so you have to wait. Ain't technology a beeawch?

They hardly spoke until they boarded the cruise liner in the harbor at Taranto. The steward showed them to their outboard cabins and left the feuding couple to their own devices simply reminding them that dinner was 'formal'.

Chuck was unpacking his bag when Sarah knocked at the adjoining doorway. He debated ignoring it because he didn't want another round of 'It was my fault and I'm so sorry' from her but took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Yes, Sarah?"

"Look, we have to work together and what happened last night…" She stopped and walked into his cabin. It was smaller than hers and she wondered if he always took the lesser quarters. She sat on the bunk and looked at him for about 5 seconds before continuing.

'I knew she couldn't let it go. Yeah, we do have to work together but when this mission's done, she's gone.'

"My husband…I…it's not even a year and I've had 'co-ed' missions but I've never woken up in such a compromising position before and…I felt guilty, OK? I felt guilty because it felt so damned right. I hardly slept a full night without nightmares until last night. You must think I'm a horrible person but…" Each sentence became a little louder as the desperation in her comments increased.

He put his fingertips against her lips in an effort to stop her spiel.

"Shh. No, I don't think you're a horrible person. I think you're aching and grieving and there's no one who can ever take the place of who you lost. I know that's how I feel almost all the time except on missions and…look, I felt rested and at peace when I first woke up and I didn't have my usual nightmares so, thank you for last night. I'm sorry I took your head off…Peace?"

"Yeah. Peace. If you ever want to just talk or…"

"Yeah. Let's go grab some lunch and then talk about the cover and op in Nicosia. I requested an augment and hopefully she'll be there before we have the meeting."

"An augment? What the hell is an 'augment'."

"Well, when they were remaking my face, she did a lot of modeling using what little remained for her to work with. I'm hoping she can help me change my appearance enough to fool the buyers. She used to be a special effects makeup artist in Hollywood. You'll love her. She was my rock during the operations and she kept me from giving up and just dying."

"So, Chuck, this face isn't really yours? The obvious question in my mind is 'how big a change did they make'?"

"Well, I used to have blue eyes, my nose was a lot smaller and I guess my cheekbones and chin are a lot different. Oh, and they fixed my ears. One was always an inch or so lower then the other. The right one, I think."

Sarah took that in but stopped. Plastic surgery didn't change eye color. Did it?

"Hey, Carmichael, that's a bunch of crap. You can't change your eye color with plastic surgery. And you nose is pretty big now. Who makes their nose 'bigger'? I call bullshit!"

For just an instant he flashed on Jenny. She called 'bullshit' a lot and he was sorry they ever saw that damned movie about the family playing cards. It was a damned chick flick and he'd fallen asleep a few times. Jenny had loved going to the movies.

"Ok, I lied about the eye color and the ears but the rest, sadly, is true. However, people come up to me on the street now and tell me how classically handsome I am. Happens all the time."

He grinned and she wasn't sure what to make of it. He wasn't at all what one would refer to as 'handsome' let alone 'classically'. He wasn't ugly, just not her type. He wasn't her Chuck. He'd been someone else's.

"I'm hungry, partner. Feed me. I'll be counting your calories so you better eat a lot or else it's Miller's protein shakes for breakfast and lunch.

"I hope there's Italian food on the menu."

"It's an Italian cruise ship, Chuck. I don't think you'll be disappointed."

They never got to eat lunch. Chuck received a cell call from Casey telling him that the British MI-6 were 'cutting them out' and that they would essentially be backup to the Brits. Chuck was amazed at the fluency Casey displayed in scatological curses in more languages than Chuck believed existed.

"Charles, we're the second string and Beckman agreed in exchange for some data she felt was more critical than us taking out the nuke seller. We'll meet in Nicosia as planned and then sit back and wait. Your lady friend arrived earlier today and I gotta say you sure can pick 'em."

"What? You don't like Helen? I'll admit she's a bit unorthodox but…"

"She thinks she's a fucking vampire, and she dresses like…"

"She's a Goth, Casey. She doesn't really think she's a vampire. It's all Hollywood with her. Be nice to her. I owe her for my dashing good looks."

Casey sputtered and cursed and finally handed the phone to Carina. "Here, you talk to the moron."

"Chuck, Casey's kinda upset. So, how are you and the missus getting along? Are you eating?"

"Fine, yes, eating. We were about to go into lunch when Casey called. I'm hanging up now, Carina. Don't let Helen out in the light. Her skin bubbles and stinks like road kill."

Sarah had been standing beside Chuck at the rail and could hear Casey despite the two feet separating her from Chuck. She laughed at Chuck's final words to Miller.

"Goth? Vampires? What kind of team is this? My God, Charles…her skin bubbles in the sun?"

"Not really but Carina has a fear of the supernatural. Remember that. It might come in handy if there's ever a war between the partners."

Dinner was formal and so Chuck unpacked the tux from the wardrobe and had it pressed by the steward. He knocked on the connecting door and asked if she was ready to go and heard a muted "I could use a little help here, Charles. Please come in."

Her zipper was stuck and from the location of the stoppage Chuck had an unfettered view of the ivory skin that went from the base of her spine to her shoulders. He tugged the zipper up to its stop and patted it.

"OK, you're done up, Sarah. Nice dress. The color…" The color matched her eyes. He realized that their eyes, Jenny's and Sarah's, were the exact same color and he wondered if that had anything to do with his guarded attitude towards his new partner.

"You look nice, Sarah. Are you ready to go?"

"Yep, just let me get my purse and pistol and we're good to go."

"Pistol? Um, maybe I should go back and put on a rig and take mine. Are you expecting trouble?"

"Nope. But I believe in always being prepared."

"Ah, so you were a boy scout?"

"Do I look like a boy, Charles?" Her tone was somewhat frosty. She'd spent a great deal of time ensuring she looked her best for him. She didn't want to create a bad first impression in a formal setting.

"N – no…absolutely not. There's no way anyone could mistake you for anything other than the female of the species. Um, let's go before I end up swallowing the foot I've shoved into my mouth."

She grabbed her wrap and patted Chuck on the cheek as she passed him. "You're sweet. I like that in a man."

"Just what every guy wants to hear from a beautiful woman…'you're sweet'. The kiss of death."

She laughed and grabbed his hand and pulled him out into the companionway. She liked this guy. He was funny, unassuming and not the least bit threatening. The partnership had potential.

Dinner was superb and they stayed long after the table had been cleared talking about everything and anything other than each other and their respective deceased spouses.

She put her arm through his as they walked back to their cabins and said their good nights in the companionway. Chuck stripped off his tux, cleared his pistol and put it under his pillow. Despite what he'd told Sarah, he'd been armed.

He lounged in front of the cabin window and finished off the rest of the bottle of Vodka he'd picked up prior to boarding. He was working on building up a tolerance for vodka since his mark was a well-known drinker in public and, it was assumed, private.

After a quick shower he slipped into his bed and then mentally reviewed the mission profile, flashing on all the known participants.

'Why would Beckman take second chair to the Brits? What information could possibly be more important than eliminating a nuclear weapons dealer and his buyers? No good can come of this. The Brits have a notorious reputation for putting their own interests first instead of honoring agreements.'

He flashed on their mark.

'Pavel Andreyevev Roskov, 53, former colonel of the Minsk Strategic Rocket Artillery Division, single, no known sexual deviations. Former member of Russian Nationalist Movement, devoted to restoring the old Soviet Union to its former glories without dependence on Marxist doctrine. Resigned from Federation military service in protest over the adoption of the SALT II Treaty. Appointed Strategic Armaments commander of the Georgian Republic National Army, 2006. Saw service in Afghanistan during his first years in Soviet Army.

The file photo available in the intersect database was at least 5 years old. Five years ago Roskov was thin, graying hair, a nasty scar running across his lower jaw and dark brown eyes slightly sunken into his face. He was clean shaven but recent reports said he'd adopted a Stalin-type moustache. Figures, the Man of Steel was a Georgian himself.

Chuck didn't know how long he'd been asleep when Sarah knocked on the interconnecting door and asked if she could talk with him.

"It's open, Sarah. Come in." He sat up, conscious of his sleep attire – sleep pants and a wife-beater t-shirt, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

She'd been crying and started to speak a couple of times before she managed to say a complete sentence.

"Charles, can I please sleep in here tonight? I just…a horrible nightmare and…"

He knew what she wanted. She wanted someone to hold on to her and give her human contact, nothing more. He understood the need all too well. The first few months after Jenny's death had been hard for him but Helen had been there and understood the need to reconnect and hold off the demons.

"Sure. The bed's not as big as yours so…" he moved over until his back was almost against the bulkhead and gestured to the warm empty space he'd just left. She never looked him in the eye, just slipped into bed and rolled over and put her head on his shoulder and pulled his arm around her. She was still crying and sniffling, still shaking off the nightmare.

"I'm sorry. You must think I'm weak and…"

"Hush. I don't think any such thing. I'd have cracked and given up if Helen hadn't been there after the accident. She was my anchor after the first operations and she let me lean on her when I couldn't stand on my own. After I was breathing on my own she became a permanent fixture in my room. She read Moby Dick to me. She called me her Ishmael."

"So, you and Helen…?" She was bothered by the implications. She didn't understand why but she was.

"Oh, God, no! Helen's loud and proud…calls herself 'the grand dyke'. She's the closest thing I've had to a friend since this crap got stuffed up my nose."

"Oh. Good. I mean…good that you have someone you can lean on. I'm your partner, Charles, and I hope someday you'll trust me enough to 'lean on me' if you need to. I've certainly taken advantage…"

"Sleep. Big day of doing nothing tomorrow until we dock in the afternoon. I need to find the ship's gym and get back on track. Can't let my manly physique deteriorate."

Sarah giggled abruptly, surprised at her suppressed laughter. She closed her eyes and slept.

She woke first to the sun in her face streaming in through the cabin window. She was spooned against his chest and crotch and his warm breath tickled her ear and sent shivers through her. Her head was on his bicep and he had his other arm draped loosely across her. She knew this was dangerous but last night she'd needed someone to help her keep the past at bay. She felt wonderful for the first time since…the last time she'd slept with him.

'Face it, Sarah Walker, you needed him. How quickly you've forgotten the other Chuck. How quickly you've become Sarah Walker and left poor Jenny behind.'

She gently untangled her self from her partner and returned to her own cabin. This would not happen again.

Chuck wondered if he'd done something 'inappropriate' last night. She hardly spoke during breakfast and disappeared when he went to the gym, reappearing with her luggage as the boat docked and the passengers began to leave the boat for other destinations or to spend the day touring and shopping.

"Ready to go, Sarah?"

"Ready, Agent Carmichael. Let's get this done."

Her tone was not quite cold but her body language almost shrieked 'don't touch me'. He must have done something the night before. He'd been asleep. She couldn't blame him for what happened while he was asleep, could she?

Cruise Line Docking Area
Nicosia, Cypress

"Ishmael!" He'd just reached the bottom of the gangway and was looking around for his partners when he was enveloped in black leather and kissed as if it was the last thing she'd ever do on earth.

"Helen! Please, show a little restraint! I know you haven't seen me in a while but…you're not reorienting again, are you?" She'd decided that she was 'bisexual' as far as Chuck was concerned. She was determined to sleep with him, if only to confirm her 'orientation' or to disprove it. She had a thing for Chuck Carmichael, even before the reconstruction. She couldn't figure it out but figured 'fuck it, go with the flow'.

"Oh, Ish, I've missed you. Look at you! You've gained weight, your face is…um, healed, yeah, healed. So, now that all your excuses are gone, now will you sleep with me?"

She looked at her handiwork and admired the job she'd done. She'd started with basically raw flesh but had given the surgeons such detailed models that his surgery and recovery had been one for the books.

"Helen, you're out in the sun and you're not blistering and sizzling! I missed you, Hell, and no, I'm not going to sleep with you. I have the wrong equipment, remember?" His eyes glazed over for a brief second as he saw something that broke his heart.

"Ish, I've told you a thousand, no, I've told you a million times that, I will sacrifice and go 'hetero' for ya, baby. Just for you."

She looked up over his shoulder and saw a tall blonde staring at them with ill-concealed displeasure. She looked her over and decided 'I'd do her although blondes aren't my type' and then started to drag Chuck towards the line of taxis.

"Ish, let's table this until I get you back to your room and naked. We got an audience, baby, and I know how much of a prude you are."

"Ah, my manners! Helen Free, this is Sarah Walker, my new partner. Sarah, this is my rock, Helen the Dyke. She's the one who modeled the new Charles after…after I didn't die. Helen, she's a Clown so be nice. I don't think she approves of your lifestyle but don't let it bother you. We're only here for a few days."

"So Beckman outsourced for a new keeper? Radical. I knew Diane had a sense of humor. Brought in the Clowns. Hello, Ms. Walker, I'm Helen Free, makeup artist and forensic sculptress extraordinaire. Whatcha think of my guy here? Isn't Ishmael sweet?"

Sarah was startled from her daydream of skinning the short woman with razor blades for daring to kiss…

"Hi. I'm Sarah Walker. He needs to put on weight and maybe smile a bit more but I'd say you did a good job giving him a face with…character."

Helen was short, amply endowed (and displayed in an almost obscenely small sleeveless leather vest) shocking white spiked hair, facial piercings and black lipstick. She wore black leather pants that looked like a second skin. Sarah took an immediate dislike to her. She figured the feelings were mutual and she was right.

Helen leaned up and whispered something in his ear and laughed as he protested his innocence.

"No, we're partners, our cover is as a married couple but Hell I bought a condo in Venice right near the beach and it's got two bedrooms for a reason. I'm still married, Hell, even if she's dead. That 'til death do us part' still applies. I'm still alive."

Both women looked at each other and knew that each felt the same thing.

"Where are Casey and Miller? I thought they'd meet us and bring us up to speed." It wasn't like Casey to let a civilian, even one who worked part-time for the NSA, take on his duties.

"He and Her Bitchiness are scoping out secondary hide sites in case the Brits screw things up. Y'know John, always has to have 'in depth options'. Ish, I don't know how you can stand to be in the same room with that redheaded harpy. She nags John something fierce but she saves her most bitchiness for you, Agent Walker."

She looked over her shoulder at Sarah who was following behind the other two. She was busy shooting daggers into the back of the Vamp's neck.

"She hasn't said one nice thing about you and that makes you my bestest friend forever until we get off this rock. Chuck, all she does is go on and on and on and on about you and your health and well-being. I think she's carrying a big-assed flaming torch for you."

"There's no reason for her to be bad-mouthing Sarah except that she's jealous. You know how Carina is…possessive. As for her damned torch, I already told her it was a no-go from the start but she's worse than you are, Hell. She's determined to…never mind. Sarah and I are partners and we're good together, so back off, Helen."

"OK, backing off. So, Charles, to business. How's the implant working? Need a refill?" She slowed until she was abreast of Sarah and spoke very quietly to her. "How's he sleeping? Is he using the implant? They decided on an on-demand subdermal implant since pills are…inconvenient on missions."

"Implant? This is the first I've heard of an implant. What's it do? What's this about a refill? It's subdermal? Where is it?"

Chuck heard his partner's voice increasing in volume and listened and then smirked. 'Shut up and let her answer your damned questions. God, you're as bad as Jenny…was.'

"It's on the underside of his upper left arm. It's supposed to allow self-medication for pain. All he has to do is stroke it with his thumb and it automatically doses him. I think that's pretty cool. If he uses it to the max it lasts about 30 days. Knowing Ish, he's probably got 29 days remaining. He's so stubborn about using it. He says the pain 'keeps him frosty'."

"Pain? From what? He looks healed. No facial scarring."

Chuck had walked away from the pair who'd stopped walking and were deep in conversation.

'Damn Helen! Now I'll have to deal with Walker nagging me about using the injector just like Carina does about eating. I hate being nagged. My sister had been a nag and Jenny could make me feel guilty in a heartbeat so she never had to nag.'

"He had a flailed chest, Agent Walker, and the muscles were severely damaged as well as some nerves and he has muscle pain in his chest, shoulders and legs. The legs were both broken and required pinning and now cramp up after he runs and I've seen the pinched look around his eyes – a sure sign he's in pain."

'I've noticed the pinched look as the day went on. Maybe sleep relieves the pain.'

"That's why I asked how he was sleeping. Between the nightmares and pain he rarely sleeps the entire night through. It's hampering his recovery. It's why he can't stand upright. He's 6'2" but I'll bet you never thought he was that tall, did you? I wish I'd known him before the assassination attempt. Then I could judge his progress."

"You really care about Charles, don't you? I mean, not like love or anything, but like you really care, don't you?"

"I – I think he's the only man I would ever consider having sex with. I don't know. He's so unassuming and…he's so damned sweet. I spent two months working on him, reworking his face from what it was to what you see now. I guess I fell a little bit in love with him. I took hamburger and molded it into what you see. Beckman wanted him to have a new face and a new chance at life. I helped him."

"I don't understand."

"I'm a forensic artist. I've worked on victim identification for various police agencies. Beckman contacted me with a challenge so I flew up to Utah and spent a week looking at x-rays and modeling a skull from them to work on."

"So you never saw him before…I mean you didn't know what he looked like before?"

"Not before I actually met him. His face was a mess and he couldn't speak at all, something about a damaged larynx. I spent another week back home doing the model and flew back up to Utah and met with the surgeons and Beckman. Scary lady. Anyhow, between surgeries I'd fly up and check on the progress against the model Beckman had approved. He needed a lot of bone work and appliances to fix him back up."

They noticed Charles was waiting for them impatiently at the taxi stand.

"So, how's he sleeping?"

"Fine the last couple of nights. We traveled down through Italy by train and I didn't see much of him but I did notice that 'pinched' look you mentioned but not the last two or three mornings." I wonder if that's because I spent the night wrapped around him? No. It couldn't be anything that simple.

"Good. Maybe he's using the damned injector. I'll have to check on it. I was kidding about the refill. It has to be done surgically."

Chuck looked pointedly at his watch and motioned for them to 'hurry it up'. He wanted to find someplace to sit down. His legs were killing him. He wouldn't use the damned injector. It made the world fuzzy and it was probably addictive. He could live with the pain if he could sit down occasionally.

Besides, pain reminded him of his purpose and of what he'd lost. If he'd ever stopped to think about it, using pain to remind you of what you'd lost was dumb – unless you thought you needed the pain as punishment. He never stopped to think about it, simply rationalizing it away as a fear of dependence.