Chapter Eighteen … in which Bryce bares his soul, Zondra skates close to the edge, Sarah meets her match, and Chuck takes point—with potentially cataclysmic results.

This chapter completes the Sarah vs. the Vault arc. Many unresolved issues remain, which will be fun to explore in future chapters—but this one is all about the action.

Disclaimer: We don't own Chuck…

Chapter 18: The Covert Caper's Quagmire

As dusk settled over the safe house, everyone scrambled to get ready for that night's mission. Chuck had spent the better part of the afternoon refining his scripts and repackaging them into executables, while combing through Jackson's notes to ensure he hadn't missed something critical. This was his plan and the responsibility lay on his shoulders should anything go wrong. Mindful of Tolkien's quote, 'It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near them,' he'd also taken time to put contingencies in place for every step. In their world of rogue spies and evil men, there was always a dragon or two with which to contend.

Bryce'd returned earlier in the day from his side mission at Dalia's Cleaning Services … procuring the keycard they needed to disarm the perimeter security and gain access to the bank's interior. He'd insisted that he'd be the one to take care of it—maybe he felt sidelined, having to stay behind with Chuck while Zondra and Sarah carried out the main part of the mission—but when pressed on how he'd pulled it off, his only response had been, 'it wasn't a problem.' Chuck had a sneaking suspicion that seduction had been involved. For the life of him, he had no idea why Bryce was so reluctant to admit it; it wasn't like it would've been the first time he'd needed to use such tactics. With his reputation, Chuck had simply expected that would be the approach he'd take.

Back in their college days, Bryce had certainly had no problems bragging about his conquests. Maybe his reluctance now had something to do with the weird energy between him and Zondra. Chuck would have to ask Sarah about that later when they had a chance to talk about the whole awkward situation—something he was dreading far more than tonight's mission.

On a less troubling note, along with the keycard, Bryce had also retrieved a bottle of Chardonnay that Chuck had asked him to pick up while he was out. When Bryce'd asked why Chuck needed it, he'd given him his canned response of 'it's my thinking juice.' The Piranha had his methods and it wasn't the time for him to change old habits—not when so much was at stake. He hadn't elaborated, and after giving him a long look, Bryce had been kind enough to just do as he'd asked.

After Sarah had gotten Jackson's notes, she'd brought the FBI tech guru up to speed on tonight's mission. He sounded excited to be working alongside one of the CIA's 'top analysts'—call sign, Red Two—even if it was only remotely. Looking amused, Sarah'd said that Jackson had instantly recognized Red Two as Wedge Antilles' call sign from Star Wars. The guy's stock had gone up a few more points in Chuck's book. He'd already gained respect for Jackson after looking through his notes, but knowing he was a sci-fi aficionado made Chuck wish he could meet him in person, not just hide behind a silly code name. He understood the need for the call sign, of course, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Still if he had to have a fake name, at least he'd come up with a good one … and not just for himself, either.

He leaned back on his pillows, flexing the fingers of his bad hand, just as Zondra and Sarah emerged from Sarah's bedroom—where they'd been sequestered for the past half hour—literally, dressed to kill. Chuck's mouth fell open and stayed that way. They both looked like something straight out of the Matrix. From their form-fitting Kevlar vests to their long black trench coats, they were the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

Sarah smirked, sauntering over to where Chuck was sitting. She reached over and lifted his chin, closing his mouth before she spoke.

"Down, boy," she said.

God, he could be such a total idiot in her presence. If she knew the power she held over him, she could have him do anything she asked and he'd only beg for more. He'd willingly be her slave—and love every minute of it.

Over Sarah's shoulder, Chuck caught a glimpse of Zondra, glancing away like seeing the two of them together made her uncomfortable … or worse, upset. It made Chuck feel awful. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her feelings—well, the second-to-last. The very last thing he wanted to do was violate Sarah's trust in him. He'd rather be roasted alive than cross that line.

Zondra was beautiful—objectively, he could appreciate that. She was smart, and a total badass, and a kindred spirit beneath it all … but she didn't move Chuck the way Sarah did. He knew she never would.

But did she know that?

Oh, yeah. He and Sarah couldn't have that talk soon enough.

But now wasn't the time. He needed to push those thoughts aside and review the mission parameters once more before everyone broke into their respective teams. This would be their last chance to look each other in the eye, voice any concerns, and ask questions. Chuck also wanted a chance to test the lapel cameras and mics so he'd be certain to see and hear everything Sarah and Zondra did. He'd leave nothing to chance before placing them in harm's way.

"To be clear," he said, sliding back into professional mode as Sarah straightened up, "we'll need to be in place and ready to open the vault's primary door no earlier than 8:56 PM and no later than 9:04. Just a ten-minute window. If there's any deviation from that, I suggest we scrub the mission altogether and regroup. If we go in outside that window, it'll deviate from the bank's normal business practices and the system might go into lockdown."

Chuck paused and looked around. All three agents were staring at him attentively, soaking in every word. He wasn't accustomed to having them look at him like he was the one with all the answers—as if they were taking their direction from him, relying on him. It was a great feeling, in some respects … but it also made him incredibly nervous.

"If we're in place and ready to go," he went on, trying not to let his trepidation show, "I'll cut the power and cable to the entire block and have Jackson execute the hack right when the backup power kicks in. At that point I'll be able to spoof the IP address and digital footprint of the authentication server—meaning that I'll be able to control the code generation and facial recognition authentication protocols. After that, we're golden."

"How so?" Zondra said, her eyebrows rising in a clear expression of skepticism.

"If done correctly, the system will think it's still online and all systems will be nominal. I'll send each of you a text with the ten-digit code to get through the first door. At that point, things get tricky."

Now the skeptical expression had spread to Sarah's face.

"You'll both need to face the cameras by the second door and stand perfectly still while I overwrite the reference points of the manager and assistant manager's faces with your own. It's the only thing I couldn't automate and I'll have to do it on the fly." He shot the two of them an apologetic glance. "Sorry, but they're hard-coded into the system's read-only memory."

"And what happens to us if you make a mistake?" Zondra's voice was hard—the way he imagined it might be if she was discussing a mission with a fellow agent. Chuck wasn't offended, though; she was finally treating him like an equal, not an asset or some porcelain doll that needed her protection. And best of all, she wasn't looking at him like she wanted to sweep him off his feet or jump his bones.

"He won't," Sarah said, folding her arms across her chest. "I trust him."

Come to think of it, maybe Chuck was a little offended—not by Zondra's harsh tone but by the idea that she thought he might screw up a hacking job. The Piranha had never failed. "I would never let anything happen to either of you," he said. "I am pretty good at this."

Zondra opened her mouth to reply, but before she could voice whatever she had in mind, Bryce stepped in. "Sandra," he said, "just for the record, I would trust Chuck with my life. He's the smartest man I know."

Silence fell in the wake of Bryce's declaration. Not only had he called Zondra by what Chuck suspected was her real name, but he'd expressed a level of confidence in Chuck that left him feeling warm and fuzzy all over—fitting, for a guy whose password was fuzzyduck347. Chuck almost felt like he had his old friend back … the one he'd connected with on such a deep, personal level, before the CIA got its hooks deep into Bryce's soul and everything went sideways.

He looked over at Bryce, intending to thank him—but, compliment or no, Bryce wasn't even looking Chuck's way. Instead, his gaze was fixed on Zondra, heavy with an intensity that Chuck couldn't decode. He was sure Bryce had used her real name on purpose, to communicate … what? The existence of a connection between the two of them that superseded their lives as spies?

Well, none of that mattered now. The most important thing was to make sure Sarah—and Zondra too, of course—stayed safe. Their lives might depend on the success of his plan, and he wasn't willing to leave anything to chance.

"Okay," he said, ignoring the emotional undercurrents that threatened to swamp the room. "Let's test out the comms and make sure we have a solid video signal and the audio is five by five. It's now or never, right?"

"Yeah, now or never," Bryce echoed, still looking at Zondra, who glanced away.

Shaking his head, Chuck did what he did best, and got to work.

OoOoOoOoO

"Z," Sarah said, adjusting her trench coat to better accommodate the small arsenal beneath, "we need to talk."

In the dim light of Zondra's Jeep, Sarah caught a flash of the other agent's eyes. "Uh oh. That sounds bad. You breaking up with me, Walker?"

Despite herself, Sarah couldn't help but smile. "Not yet … sorry. You're stuck with me for a while longer—at least until we get into that vault and get the hell out of Dodge."

"Huh." Two fingers on the wheel, Zondra merged seamlessly into traffic. "Then maybe you wanna consult with me about the best way to keep Bryce out of the kitchen, or at least not on breakfast-making duty? Those eggs were a culinary abomination."

"They were," Sarah agreed, "but that's not it either."

Zondra drew a deep breath. "If it's about the way Bryce keeps looking at me—or how he used my real name earlier—I don't know what's up with him. I found a photo of the two of us in his bedside table, from back in the day. It's all dog-eared, like he's been using it as a substitute for his freakin' fuzzy duck." She took a hard left turn, faster than the traffic pattern required. "I don't get what his deal is. We haven't talked in years, and here he is, all brooding and sentimental. Well, screw that. I haven't got time for it. Lately, I've realized I deserve so much better."

And there it was—the opening Sarah needed. She was sure I deserve so much better referred to Zondra's feelings for Chuck. As far as Sarah was concerned, Zondra did deserve better—unless Bryce got his shit together in a spectacular fashion, apologizing for years of ghosting her and actually owning up to his feelings—just as long as Chuck stayed off the menu.

"I thought you loved him," Sarah said—a weak opener, but relationship talks weren't her forte.

"Bryce? I do. Or, I did. Or …" She pulled up to a stoplight and turned to face Sarah. "I do love him—in a sick, twisted way. But I love cheeseburgers too. And pepperoni pizza with extra sauce. Doesn't mean they're any good for me. I'm beginning to think my feelings for Bryce were an unhealthy habit." Her voice dropped, thickening with emotion. "Don't know about your childhood, Walker—it's not like we've swapped war stories—but mine sucked. Daddy issues, abandonment, the whole nine yards. It's not like I had good role models when it came to what healthy relationships are supposed to look like."

"Z—"

Zondra tossed her dark hair, getting it out of her eyes, and stepped on the gas. "It's behavioral modification, right? I trained myself into being attracted to guys like him. I can train myself out of it. Especially when there's someone else willing to lay down his life for mine. That's the kind of guy I should be with. Not someone who spends his nights making out with me and his days pretending it never happened."

The pain in Zondra's voice was palpable, and Sarah felt like the worst friend in the world—especially because Bryce had never tried to deny the existence of his little affaire de coeur with her. Then again, there hadn't been much coeur involved—and maybe that had made all the difference. Maybe he'd fallen in love with Zondra, and it had scared the crap out of Mr. Emotions Are for the Weak ... so he'd pretended the whole thing never mattered to him.

Whatever the case, Sarah couldn't lie to her friend for a second longer. "I have to tell you something. Chuck and I are together," she blurted.

An icy silence descended on the car. Finally, Zondra broke it. "For how long?"

Knowing Zondra, that question could be taken two ways … both as a query about how long Sarah and Chuck had been together and a barb about how long Sarah expected it to last. Not wanting to fight, though, Sarah decided to accept it at face value. "I've loved him since the beginning. When he saved a man's marriage and made a little ballerina's day instead of hitting on me." A smile lit her face, remembering. "But in terms of how long we've been a couple … right after Thanksgiving. Before I left for San Francisco."

Zondra white-knuckled the wheel. "About ten minutes after you kissed Bryce, you mean. God, Walker, you're some piece of work."

"In my defense, Bryce kissed me first. And yes, I did kiss him back, but—I was scared, Z."

The admission fell between them like a stone. Slowing for another stoplight, Zondra snorted. "Of what? Bryce? I don't believe that for a second."

"And you shouldn't." Sarah balled her hands into fists. "Bryce is a lot of things as far as I'm concerned, but scary isn't one of them. Loving Chuck, on the other hand … that terrified me."

Zondra's expression softened as she loosened her grip on the wheel, and it occurred to Sarah that maybe Z'd been fighting the same fear. God, what a messed-up bunch they all were.

"The day of Bryce's resurrection," Sarah continued, determined to see this through, "I slipped up—exposing my feelings for Chuck after months of denying there could be anything between us. I even lied to his face while we were both under the influence of a powerful truth serum. He was getting too close, Z—breaking down all of my walls—making me lose focus. I was sure I'd end up getting him killed if I didn't keep things between us strictly professional."

Sarah took a deep breath, thinking back. "But then we found ourselves standing in front of a bomb we couldn't disarm and had no chance of outrunning. Before the timer ran out, I had nothing to lose. I wasn't gonna let him die without him knowing how I felt. So I threw caution to the wind and kissed him with everything I had and felt my whole world collapse into his. It was the most intimate moment of my life. There weren't two people standing on those docks anymore. We'd become one in a way I never thought possible."

"Very poetic, Walker," Zondra said, dry as sandpaper. "Didn't know you had it in you. You sure you haven't been moonlighting as the Bard in your spare time? A cover inside a cover inside a book cover?"

Ignoring Zondra's sarcasm—like Bryce, she used it to hide what she was really feeling—Sarah soldiered on. "I never would've done it if I thought we were going to live. But then the bomb turned out to be Bryce's life pod."

"How inconvenient," Zondra muttered.

"It wasn't inconvenient. It was incredible—both that Bryce was alive and that Chuck and I hadn't died. It was a miracle. For a split second I was happier than I could've imagined. But then it all fell apart." She stuck her hands in the pockets of her trench coat to conceal their trembling. "I knew Chuck felt the same thing during our kiss that I did. There was no way to make him believe it wasn't what it was."

"I take it back. You couldn't possibly be the Bard. Your grammar is terrible."

"I'm serious, Z. I knew our relationship was doomed before it could get started. He was my asset and the Intersect, for crying out loud. There was no way it'd ever work between us. It couldn't." Her voice broke. "I wanted to run away and never look back. I'd done that my whole life when things got complicated—first with my father, then with the Company. Trust me, Z—you're not the only one with daddy issues."

Zondra shook her head. "None of this explains why you thought kissing Bryce back was a good idea—especially in Chuck's bedroom at a family gathering. That's beyond cruel—even for the Ice Queen."

Sarah couldn't help but flinch. Zondra had hit the mark … and it stung. "You're right. I can still see the betrayed look on Chuck's face that night. It's the biggest mistake I've ever made. I was so confused by the way I felt and when Bryce kissed me, I just … responded. A twisted reflex of habit. He was the safe, known quantity. Whereas Chuck …"

"So you freaked out and you lied to me." Zondra's words issued from between gritted teeth. "I asked you directly, and you lied."

"What was I supposed to do? A relationship with the Intersect? Come on. That goes against every rule in the book. Plus, I didn't know where your loyalties lay."

"The lying—that I could forgive. But you let me make a fool of myself, Sarah. You let me tell you how I felt … let me believe maybe I had a chance with Chuck … and all the while, you two were together? How can I trust you now?"

"I never wanted to hurt you." It was the simple truth. "I felt like I was in an impossible situation, can't you understand that? Admitting I cared about Chuck was one thing. But saying we'd crossed the Rubicon into an actual relationship … that was something else entirely."

They were less than a block from the bank. Sarah could see Jackson's surveillance van parked at the curb, and from the way Zondra slowed, she could tell Z saw it too. They were going to have to go into this operation with the conversation unfinished—which was unfortunate for so many reasons.

"Why tell me now?" Zondra said, pulling up behind the van. "Of all freaking times?"

Sarah swallowed hard. "Because I care about you too, Z. You're one of my best friends. I can't stand the thought of causing you pain. And … I'm sick of lying to the people I love. That part of my life is done."

It was a difficult admission, and more vulnerable than Sarah had allowed herself to become in front of anyone but Chuck. Still, Zondra didn't give an inch. Instead, she turned off the engine and cracked the car door. "This isn't over," she said to Sarah, her voice dark, and got out of the car, heading Jackson's way.

Huffing to herself, Sarah exited the Jeep too and made her way to the surveillance van. Zondra stood with her arms folded beside the sliding back door … waiting.

Great. So this was how tonight was gonna go. Cold shoulders and snide remarks. Sarah should've just left well enough alone 'til after this mission, but she'd felt too guilty. She'd let her interpersonal instincts override her responsibilities as a spy—and look what had happened. Now they were at odds, minutes before a crucial operation. If something went wrong because of it, it would be Sarah's fault.

Guilt settled over her, heavy and smothering, as Jackson leaned over and unlocked the passenger side door. Sarah climbed inside but cut through the front seats to the back door, opening it for Zondra, who stepped inside, sliding the door closed behind her.

"Jackson," Sarah said, her voice neutral, "this is Agent Rizzo. She'll be running point with me tonight."

Jackson held out his hand, as polite as ever. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

A look of surprise crossed Zondra's face. She frowned, then extended her hand to Jackson so they could shake—retrieving her fingers from his grip as soon as humanly possible. That was Z, untrusting in the extreme … even when Bryce and Sarah had both given Jackson the all-clear.

Deciding it was pointless to try and ingratiate the two of them any further, Sarah extracted the small case that held their earwigs and lapel cameras from her inner-coat pocket. She passed them out to Zondra and Jackson, then hooked up her own. Switching on the transceiver, she tested the system, hoping Chuck and Bryce were already in place. Anything was better than freezing her ass off under the weight of Zondra's frigid glare.

"Red Two, this is Blondie," she said into her mic. "Are you receiving me?"

"Yes," Chuck said after a moment. "Fuzzy Duck and I are still reading you five by five." There was a thump, and then he said, sounding both affronted and amused, "Ow! What the…" He cleared his throat. "Sorry … sorry. We've got a strong signal on the cameras as well."

Sarah chanced a glance behind her and found Zondra's eyes watering as the other agent fought as hard as she could not to laugh. Only Chuck could defuse a tense situation without even being there.

"Red Five," Chuck went on, all business now, "did my notes about the IT closet make any sense?"

"Red Five?" Disbelief colored Jackson's tone, as if he didn't think he was worthy of the call sign Chuck had assigned him. "But that's Luke's—"

"That's right. And tonight, I'll need you to be the Jedi on the scene. Is that okay?"

Whatever Chuck meant—Sarah had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with Luke Skywalker, but alas, she still didn't speak fluent nerd—it made Jackson's day. "Yes, sir. I've got it covered … and can I just say, those scripts are—wow! Never seen anything like them. It's an honor to be working with you, Red Two."

"The same, Red Five."

It was Bryce's turn to clear his throat. "This is, uh … Fuzzy … um … Duck. I suggest we keep the comms clear 'til you're all in place."

Sarah had to fight back her own laughter. Smooth, suave Bryce Larkin, reduced to the call sign of his favorite childhood lovie. "Roger that, Fuzzy Duck," she said. "ETA, fifteen minutes. See you on the other side. Over and out."

OoOoOoOoO

Chuck muted their mics, turning to Bryce with a shit-eating grin he couldn't hide. For Bryce to even think about playing along with his little joke was so far outside of the guy's normal comfort zone—the punch to Chuck's good arm notwithstanding. But there Bryce sat, checking the feeds like nothing had happened ... as if they'd never stopped being friends. This was major headway—if only a step back in time, from Chuck's point of view.

Bryce looked back at Chuck, his teeth sinking into his lower lip. Finally, he said, "How do you do it?"

"Do what?" Chuck said, puzzled.

"Have them both fighting over you like you're the second coming. It's so obvious both Zondra and Sarah have fallen for you … hard."

All evidence to the contrary, Chuck had hoped he'd been wrong about Zondra. He especially wanted to be wrong if Bryce was interested in her, since that seemed like a catastrophe waiting to happen.

He messed with his keyboard, checking and double-checking last-minute adjustments. "Sarah?—maybe. All I know is I love her and I hope she loves me back. But Zondra—there's no way."

Bryce pushed his chair back from the computer desk, frustration knitting his brows. "You always were oblivious when it came down to how women felt about you."

Obviously, Chuck wanted to say, since I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with Jill and then she slept with you instead. He bit his tongue to keep quiet, since that was definitely a conversation for another day. "What are you really trying to ask, Bryce? Spit it out. Does this have anything to do with the looks you've been sending Zondra?"

Looking miserable, Bryce nodded. "She hates me, Chuck. Can't even stand to make eye contact with me anymore."

Great. Ten minutes before a vital mission, and Chuck was somehow in the role of playing Dear Abby. Not that he didn't care about Bryce, despite everything, and want him to be happy, but … was this really the time? "And why do you think that is? Was it something you've said—something that's upset her?"

Bryce shook his head. "That's impossible. I've barely spoken with her in years."

These freaking spies. They were like talented, terrifying ninjas … with the emotional maturity of three-year-olds. "So how do you expect to find a meaningful connection with her then?" he said patiently. "Osmosis?"

"Of course not. But what if she doesn't feel the same way? I'd be making a fool out of myself—out there, just dangling in the wind, for all to see."

And now they got to the heart of it—Bryce's player reputation and his ever-present pride. "So? Who cares? Did you get the impression you don't already look like a fool in her eyes—tripping over your own words—never saying anything real to her?"

"I—"

"Trust me," Chuck continued, "you do. Stop thinking about yourself and suck it up, buttercup. If you really care about her, shouldn't she be the only part of the equation you're trying to solve? You're not—and have never been—a part of the solution, unless it means going along with what makes her happy." His voice came out harsher than he intended, making him wince. Still, how did Bryce expect anything to change when he refused to take any risks? Did he expect Zondra to read his mind?

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Bryce … I know I'm sounding all preachy, but—"

Bryce ran a hand through his hair, looking thoughtful. "No … No. That was really astute, Chuck. Thank you."

Wow. He'd expected Bryce to give him a hard time, or refuse to take responsibility for his actions. Instead, here he was, actually considering what Chuck had said. Would wonders never cease? "Anytime," Chuck said warily, just as Sarah's comms and video came to life, along with everyone else's.

It was game time.

"Red Two, we're ready when you are," Sarah said, cool and confident as usual. "Standing by."

Chuck would never have thought he'd be relieved to take charge of a bank heist, but it was a cinch after trying to unravel the Gordian knot of Bryce's love life. "Roger that, Blondie. Checking your signal. Looks good from here. Red Five, is your hotspot active?

"It is now," Jackson replied.

A few moments ticked by as Chuck checked for Jackson's signal. "Got it … Okay. We're a go. Remember, Red Five, when you're connected to the network's switch, I'll need to remote into your computer and take care of a few things. When it's time to cut power, you'll be on your own. After you've executed the script, just let me know if there's any drop in connectivity. Just one packet lost and we might need to abort."

"Understood." Like Sarah, Jackson sounded self-assured, which was good. The last thing they needed was for him to lose his nerve. "I'll be ready."

"All right. Fuzzy Duck's taking over the comms now. I need to concentrate. Mute your mics unless you need to use them. And above all else, please stay safe—all of you."

Chuck took a big swig of his Chardonnay, gave Bryce a pointed look, cracked his knuckles, and let the Piranha off his leash.

OoOoOoOoO

Sarah swiped the keycard and heard the outer door click open. She pulled the handle and they filed through the door one by one.

Once they got inside, Sarah headed for the vault behind Zondra as Jackson made his way to the back of the building, towards the IT closet. The operation was incredibly organized; Chuck was showing himself to be a master tactician and his gift for strategy shone through with every command.

Facing the keypads in front of the vault, they waited for Jackson and Chuck to get set up and cut the power. If everything worked as planned, Chuck would send them the outer door's access code and there'd be no turning back. Cutting the power to the building was innocuous in and of itself, but cutting power to the whole block would garner attention in short order from municipal workers and maybe even the local police. This needed to be a hit-and-run operation.

While they waited, Sarah looked over at Zondra, morbid curiosity getting the better of her. Z's eyes were hard and unyielding, betrayal underpinning each fleeting look she sent Sarah's way. Even though this wasn't the time or place, Sarah had to say something—anything—to try and right this sinking ship. It was tearing her apart.

Double-checking to make sure their comms were still muted, Sarah spoke in a stage whisper. "This is killing me, Z. Please … please forgive me. I'm so sorry I lied to you, but I didn't know what else to do. I was just trying to protect Chuck."

"And yourself," Zondra said, leaning back against the wall. "You sure as hell weren't trying to protect me."

Bryce's voice cut through the tension, saving Sarah from having to respond … which was just as well. She had no idea what to say.

"We're just about ready. Stand by. Ten seconds from my mark. Starting the countdown … now."

Sarah checked her watch, counting the seconds as they ticked away. When the second-hand reached ten, a shroud of black engulfed everything. The HVAC unit spun down, adding an eerie silence to the mix. A moment later, the generators kicked in and the lights came back on, leaving Sarah with a single question: Had it worked?

As if Chuck had heard her thoughts, her cell phone and Zondra's chirped with incoming text messages, revealing the ten-digit codes. Sarah sucked in her breath and heard Zondra do the same as they punched in the numbers on their keypads. Tumblers spun within the door, ending with an audible click.

Z reached over, tried the handle—and blew out the breath she'd been holding when the steel door opened. Damn, Sarah thought, unmuting their mics. Chuck was good.

"We're through the first door," she said. "Nice job, Red Two. Keep it up."

The two agents stepped up to the cameras to the left and right side of the secondary door, remembering to hold still while Chuck performed his magic. Through Bryce and Chuck's open mics, Sarah could hear the staccato hallmarks of Chuck's fingers pecking away on the keyboard, along with—was he humming? What the hell. It wasn't like this was Zondra and Sarah's Bank Heist: The Musical.

The pecking and humming stopped, and their phones chirped again with codes for the secondary door—these even longer than the first. Mentally crossing her fingers—failure would slam the primary door shut, trapping them both inside—Sarah typed in the code Chuck had sent. Zondra did the same, and they were rewarded with the sound of the second door unlocking.

He'd pulled it off. Her lovable, innocent, unpretentious nerd had just broken into a freakin' high-security bank vault armed with nothing but a keyboard and a smile. It was surreal. She had to stop treating him like a helpless gosling and realize the he was her equal—maybe even her superior—in so many ways.

"We're in," she said, stepping through with Zondra behind her.

There was a momentary delay. Then Bryce responded, a touch of relief in his voice, "Roger that."

Removing the lock-picking tools from their trench coats, the two agents located the box number and got started. Working together—at least they still made a good team, if nothing else—they had the door open in seconds.

Zondra pulled the box out and walked it over to the stainless steel table in the middle of the room, the duffel bag she'd brought slung over one shoulder. She lifted the lid, and Sarah's stomach tumbled.

On the underside, near the catch system, was what looked like a transmitter. Lit up red, it had its own keypad and a small display that started a timer set at thirty seconds.

This was bad.

"Um, Red Two," Zondra said, tone level, "we've got some kind of scary countdown going on here."

This time, Bryce's response came back immediately. "Abort the mission. Get the hell out of there."

They hadn't come this close just to run now. Inspecting the inside of the box once more, Sarah said, "Everyone calm down. It's not a bomb. Looks more like some kind of transmitter."

"How much time are we talking here?" It was Chuck this time, trying to conceal the worry in his voice.

"The timer just ran out," Sarah said, doing her best to project a confidence she didn't feel, "and now the red light started flashing. So, I'm guessing not much."

"All right." She heard computer keys clacking again. "Grab everything in the box and get out of there. There's no time to make the copies we talked about."

"But if we take everything," Zondra protested, "they'll know we were here."

Chuck gave a dry chuckle. "I'm pretty sure they were just notified, Z. Red Five, pack everything up as quickly as possible. Time to haul ass. Let me know when the vault doors are shut so I can restore power and reset the system."

Sarah examined the contents of the box. It held files and folders, thumb drives, CDs, and stacks and stacks of large bills—all hundreds, by the look of them. Fulcrum wasn't messing around.

Zondra started to tilt the entire box into a duffel bag, but Sarah stopped her. "Wait," she said. "Leave the money."

"What?" Zondra leveled an incredulous glance her way. "Why would we do that? It's probably what Fulcrum's using to fund their operations here."

"But if we leave the money, they'll have nothing to report to the authorities. No one would believe someone robbed them but left all this cash, and they'll never report what was actually stolen. No reason to give Fulcrum an excuse to conscript the police, FBI, and who knows who the hell else into their servitude. They'll know we were here, sure, but there won't be any reports of a bank robbery."

"Good point, Blondie." Zondra emptied the box sans the money and placed it back where they'd found it, locking everything back up.

So far, so good. Fulcrum hadn't arrived on the scene, they'd got the evidence they'd come for, and Zondra hadn't done Sarah in and tried to make it look like an accident. As far as Sarah was concerned, they were ahead of the game.

They retreated through the vault's doors and Sarah reported in. "We're clear, Red Two. Light 'er up."

She didn't wait to hear Chuck's reply. Rendezvousing with Jackson—whose forehead was covered with sweat—she and Zondra headed for the front door. Jackson was the first out, then Zondra, followed by Sarah. They'd run for their vehicles and step on the gas. Whatever that alarm system had signified, they'd outpace it.

Sarah looked back at the bank one more time to make sure they'd covered all of their bases—and heard Zondra let out a frightened yelp. When Sarah spun around, a shiver raced up her spine. Standing behind Zondra—using her as a human shield—was Agent Thomas Channing, the sleazy womanizing asshat and Juliette Reeves' second in command. His arm was wrapped around Zondra's neck, pulling her against his chest, the barrel of his gun pressed to her temple.

Sarah reached for her gun, but Channing's eyes flashed dangerously, warning her as he clicked off the safety on his Glock. She looked at Jackson, but he was no help. He stood off to the side, his eyes wide as he held his hands in the air.

Damn.

"Careful, Agent Williams." Just the sound of Channing's voice made her feel dirty. "I wouldn't do that if I were you—at least not until we've all had a chance to have some … fun." He gave her a lascivious wink over Zondra's shoulder. "Ah, yes. The ultimate trinity. It'd be a shame to get this beautiful specimen of a woman's brain matter all over Tubby's shirt before that can happen."

He was disgusting. But right now, he also had a gun to one of her closest friend's heads, and that was unacceptable.

In this business, one never knew how a mission might turn out—but Sarah was sure of one thing.

Someone was about to die.

OoOoOoOoO

When she saw Sarah's transformation, Zondra's fear transmuted into fierce resolve. Whoever this guy was, Sarah would make him pay the ultimate price. Gone was the woman who'd been begging Zondra for forgiveness only minutes before. In her place stood the harbinger of death—the Ice Queen. Very few people had seen this metamorphosis and lived to tell the tale. Zondra just had to wait for the Queen to strike and hope she was lucky enough not to be caught in the crossfire.

She had no idea how Mr. Breath Smells Like Garlic Cloves had gotten the drop on her. Zondra'd been concentrating on Walker's heartfelt apology when he'd stepped out of the shadows, surprising her … along with everyone else. So much for her training. Her instructors would have a field day telling her how dangerous it was not to keep her thoughts focused on the here and now. They'd say 'Situational awareness resides in the ego, not the id. Not what you feel, little girl, but by what you can see, hear, and taste.' But Freud had never had to be a female spy, dealing with other female spies. What the hell did he know?

The douchebag tightened his grip when he saw Sarah's steely posture. Whoever he was, he was trained to see a legitimate threat when it reared its head. So much for walking away from this unscathed.

"Let's just all take a breath, Channing," Sarah said. "There's no need for anyone to die here tonight."

Her tone was ingratiating, with just a touch of venom. That was new—if not a little unsettling. The old Sarah would've torn through this fucker—the misogynistic Agent Channing, apparently—like gossamer paper on a rainy day, even if Zondra ended up being one of the casualties.

"Oh, trust me. No one's gonna die … yet," Channing said, his voice so coated with slime, Zondra was surprised the gun didn't slide right out of his hand. "There's too much potential here. I'm just glad I was the one in the area when we received the signal you were tampering with our intel. You, your lady friend, and I are going to have a night we'll never forget."

Zondra would've thrown up on him, if she wasn't afraid he would've wound up shooting her as a result. But maybe shooting her would've been preferable, because the bastard moved his hand from her shoulder down to her breast, groping her through the fabric of her vest. Even with the Kevlar barrier, Zondra could feel his touch. Nausea roiled inside her, and Sarah's eyes narrowed, witnessing his sick display.

"I'll even let the geek watch," Channing said, squeezing to the point of pain. "At least 'til we fry his brain to find out what he knows."

The comms came to life, Bryce's voice calm and soothing. "Sandra," he said, using her real name once more, "I need you to listen to me carefully. We can see everything from both of your video feeds. Blink if you copy."

Zondra blinked.

He cleared his throat. "I'm so sorry for everything that I've not had the courage to say to you over the years. You're everything to me."

Wait … what? Maybe she was going mad. Or maybe she was already dead, and this was the afterlife—because otherwise, Bryce Larkin had just admitted … in front of multiple witnesses … that he'd been a coward, and she was his whole world.

Welcome to the effing Twilight Zone.

"Second," Bryce said, moving on with alarming efficiency, "remember Paraguay, Walker—when I was held hostage?"

Sarah blinked.

"When the situation presents itself, I need you to turn your head away from Channing's gun and lean back. Walker will give you the signal … copy?"

Zondra blinked twice.

"Okay, Williams," Channing said. "Very slowly, remove your gun and lay it down in front of you, keeping your hands where I can see them. Make no mistake, our night of pleasure will be abruptly cut short if I need to squeeze this trigger."

Looking directly at Zondra, Sarah blinked once. She held up her free hand and reached into her coat with the other, blinking for the second time. Pulling her gun out by the trigger guard, she laid it by her feet. Her other hand slid to her thigh, and she blinked a third time.

A flash of silver streaked past Zondra's head as she spun away from Channing's barrel and leaned back as instructed.

He fired. The sound was deafening as the flash from his muzzle blinded her, burning her cheek. But somehow, she was still alive—and she was free.

Channing's body lay crumpled by her feet. Glancing down, she saw one of Walker's throwing knives sticking out of his left eye. The cob roller was dead. Good riddance.

Sarah was trying to tell her something, but she couldn't hear a thing. Her ears ringing, Zondra vehemently shook her head. It would be a while before her hearing came back, but she didn't care. She was just grateful to be alive.

She watched as Sarah said something to Jackson—who stood still, open-mouthed and white-faced—and then pulled Zondra along until they reached her Jeep. Zondra handed Sarah her keys and climbed into the passenger's seat, knowing she had no business driving.

Besides Walker calling in a cleaning crew to police Channing's body, the ride home was a silent affair for many reasons—Zondra's hearing aside. Periodically, Sarah would reach over and grab her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Zondra couldn't help but notice the love that filled Sarah's eyes. No matter the undercurrents and unresolved issues between them, Sarah was her friend—her sister … and loved her. Maybe she was part of the family Chuck had described to Zondra just this morning. It was more than she'd ever had.

Whipping the Jeep into a spot at the curb in front of the safe house, Sarah got out and went around to open Zondra's door for her—unnecessary, but a welcome gesture. Walker was protecting her … looking out for her. It was a strange feeling.

The front door of the safe house opened as they came up the steps. Bryce was standing there, his face etched with worry.

"Are you all right?" he mouthed, looking Zondra over from head to toe.

She nodded, and his lips curved in a smile. "Good," he said, the sound filtering through to her as a whisper.

Chuck came up behind him, wrapping his arm around Sarah. Zondra couldn't hear what they were saying, but she saw the way the tension left Walker's body when Chuck held her. She'd never seen Sarah rely on anyone that way. As much as she herself cared for Chuck—as much as she'd hoped there could be something between them—it made her happy to see Sarah in a relationship with someone who valued and adored her.

Then again, Bryce claimed to value and adore Zondra … and what was that all about? Her head spun, as much from emotion as the lingering effects of the gunshot.

"Here," Bryce said, and offered her his hand. Wary, she slipped her fingers into his, and he led her back to her bedroom. He rummaged in his dresser for a t-shirt and sweatpants, then tactfully turned his back as she changed.

To her shock, when she told him he could turn around again—her voice sounded bizarre to her, fading in and out of focus—he tucked her into bed, smoothing the comforter over her body. "I'll be right back," he said, making sure she could see his face when he spoke so there would be no misunderstandings.

True to his word, he was back in less than a minute, a small tube in his hand.

"Aloe," he said. "For your burn."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he applied the salve with meticulous care, then brushed the hair from her face and kissed her forehead.

"Sandra," he said, looking down at her. "Remember when you made me watch The Princess Bride?"

Sure, she remembered. She was surprised he remembered. Eyes wide, she nodded.

"'I love you,'" he said, one hand still moving through her hair. "'I know this must come as something of a surprise to you, since all I've ever done is scorn you and degrade you and taunt you, but I have loved you for several hours now, and every second, more.'"

Zondra's mouth fell open. Those were Princess Buttercup's lines, from when she'd confessed her love for Westley. What had Bryce done, memorized the damn movie?

"It's stupid," he said, the words clearer now as her hearing returned, "and I wouldn't tell this to anyone else—but I've watched that movie at least two dozen times since the first time you showed it to me. As I'm sure you know, it's not my kind of flick. I watch it because … well, because it makes me think of you."

Zondra couldn't think of a single thing to say.

"I know I've screwed things up. I know you might hate me. But if you died tonight … I wanted you to understand." He leaned over her to turn off the nightstand lamp. "Good night, Sandra."

She felt his lips brush her forehead again. Then he stepped out of the room and, in the darkness, she reflected on affairs of the heart before sleep finally overtook her.

A/N: We hope you enjoyed reading this chapter … lots of action, sprinkled with a little romance for seasoning. Please leave a review and let us know what you think!

A/N #2: We covered a lot of ground here, but there are many loose ends to tie up—what will the team discover when they go through the items from the safety deposit box? What's going on between Ilsa and Casey back in Burbank … and will they be able to fend off Beckman? How long will Sarah be able to deceive Graham? Did Awesome ever pop the question? And will Bryce be able to win Zondra's heart?

As you might be able to tell, one of us has a soft spot for The Princess Bride … much the same way as Bryce has carved out space in his heart for his beloved Fuzzy Duck. We're always happy to delve into the action—but we're also thrilled to see our team of nerds and assassins learn what our beloved William Goldman, author of TPB, knew all along: "True love is the best thing in the world, except for cough drops."

As always, thanks for reading.