A/N: We all know who owns Chuck. Well, not me, I don't know, but the rest of you know.

A/N2: I hope no one gets too mad at me for this, but this chapter contains a spoiler for a magic trick. As it's a rather simple trick that comes with the box of magic paraphernalia you'd buy for your young niece or nephew as a gift, I hope you'll forgive the indiscretion.

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Bryce walked up to Ms. Banacheck and said, his voice smooth and deep, "Good evening. Mind if I join you?"

She was checking herself in a compact mirror when he asked. She looked at him as if he had just performed an earthshaking act of flatulence. She didn't respond to his question. A look that chilly would have discouraged any other casual flirtation, but Bryce had a job to do.

"Well, then, I'm going to take that as a 'no,'" he said with a smile, sitting on a chair across from the couch she was perched upon. "I'm Peter. And you are...?" He gave her the smile he used to express interest, but not the one to let the woman know she'd closed the deal. He wanted her to think he was still merely considering her as a bedmate, but wasn't yet certain.

"Bored," she said, looking at him this time as if he were a creature she would only touch with a stick.

'Oh, boy,' he thought. 'This going to be harder than I thought. If I didn't know her history with Roan, I'd think she didn't go for guys at all.'

"Well, maybe I can change that," he said. The waitress approached and Bryce said to her, "Two ice cold dirty martinis, please. Three olives each." The waitress nodded and walked away.

"Peter, can I tell you something?"

"Of course," said Bryce. Calm. Confident. Totally focused on her.

"I'm still bored and you show no promise of changing that state of affairs."

Bryce thought back to his days of training. A woman wants a man to take control, even though she won't say it. "Well, when we get finished this evening you won't be. I'm going to be taking you to tonight's show at LIV," he said, referring to the hotel's nightclub. "... then a nightcap here, a walk on the moonlit beach, and finally..."

"It sounds like you have everything planned out, Peter," she said.

"Well, perhaps not everything..." he said, giving her the bedroom eyes.

The waitress arrived with the martinis, placing them on the table between them. Turning to Ms. Banacheck, the waitress asked, "Will you be having another ginger ale, ma'am?"

"Yes, please," she said.

"Ginger ale?" Bryce asked.

"Yes. I suppose you didn't have that in your plans, did you? I haven't had a drink in ten years, and I'm not starting tonight," she said.

In his ear, Bryce heard Roan say, "Shit."

Bryce was thrown by that, but recovered quickly. "I'm proud of you. I hope it won't bother you if I drink, though?"

"Not at all. Enjoy your martinis," she said with a gesture at the glasses.

"She's a Francophile," said Roan. "St. Tropez."

"I think I will. I developed a taste for them in St. Tropez a few years ago and have been drinking them ever since," he said.

"St. Tropez? Really?" She looked at him skeptically, with an arched eyebrow of inquiry. "And where were you staying when there?"

"Intercontinental," said Roan.

"Intercontinental," said Bryce.

"When was the last time you were there?" she asked.

"Last year," said Roan. "Make it recent experience."

"Last year," said Bryce.

"Good try, but the Intercontinental in St. Tropez was sold to the Mercurian Hotel chain two years ago."

"Shit," said Roan.

Bryce laughed lightly. "You know, you're right. It must have been more like three years ago, now. Time goes so fast, don't you think? I can completely lose track," he said.

"No, Peter. I think time drags very, very slowly. When you have too much time to think, it seems to almost stop altogether."

"Is that something you do? Spend a lot of time thinking?" he asked her.

"Too much," she said after a bit of a pause.

"Well, perhaps you just need an interesting distraction," he said.

"Perhaps. If something interesting arises, I'll let you know. So far, I haven't seen a single thing here in Miami Beach to interest me in the slightest," she said. Once again, she looked at him hard, leaving no doubt whatsoever that she was including him in the category of uninteresting things.

The waitress arrived with the ginger ale. She smiled at Bryce. Wonderful, but he had a mission.

He knew this was going badly and could sense that she was about to get up and walk away from him. The mission was looking like a failure. He could try to go the bastard route, but that was the absolute last resort. If it didn't work, there was no walking it back.

He needed help.

Across the lobby were four young women crossing to enter LIV. Looking at the four, Bryce said, "I think that tall woman over there has been tagged by her friends to wear the ugly dress this evening. What do you think?"

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In his suite upstairs, Chuck said, "Oh, fuck. No way."

"What?" asked Sarah.

"He wants me to join them."

"What? Why? How do you know?"

"Tag. It's from college. Tag team. It was a thing we did in school. When he'd call 'tag' at a party I'd come over and start talking to the girl he was with. Allow him to disengage. I'd help him get out of a bad situation."

"So, you'd try to pick up the girl?" Sarah asked, confused.

"No, I had a girlfriend. I'd just be there to let him get out."

"What are you talking about, Chuck?" asked Roan. "He can't get out of this situation."

"Well, he's not doing too well at this point. She's not giving him the time of day. I guess he thinks something's got to change."

"I don't like it," said Sarah. "That woman is dangerous."

"I know, Sweetie, but I'll be in public watched over by three spies. I'll be safe enough."

Roan said, "I still don't understand what you and Larkin have planned. We still need to seduce her. Is that your plan?"

"Oh, hell no. I'm just going to make a friend." He gave Sarah a quick kiss and headed to the lobby.

"Be careful," she said.

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Crossing the lobby to the couch where Bryce was struggling to keep Banacheck from throwing her ginger ale in his face, Chuck came to them with a wide smile.

"Hey, Andy, sorry I'm late," he said to Bryce, exchanging a fist bump. Turning to Sasha he said, again with a huge smile, "Hi, I'm Chuck. What's your name?" He stuck out his hand to shake hers.

She gave him a half-hearted handshake and said, "My name is Sasha. But your friend seems to have forgotten his. He told me he's Peter."

"Hi, Sasha. Well, he is Peter. Peter Anderson. So, I call him Andy. Like a nickname."

"Have a martini, Chuck," said Bryce.

"Oh, cool, thanks, dude." Chuck picked up the drink and took a sip. "Speaking of nicknames...Sasha, huh? Is your real name Alexandra?"

"It is," she said.

"Yeah. I always thought that was so cool. For a Russian named either Alexander or Alexandra, it's the same nickname, Sasha. Boy or girl. I think that's pretty cool. Are you from Russia?

"Yes,"

"What part?"

"Moscow."

"Wow. Big city. Have you been back recently? I've never been, but I'd love to visit. I love places with a ton of history. And God knows Russia has history. Do they still have Lenin's body in the tomb in Red Square? Near the Kremlin?"

"Yes."

"I read a magazine article about that once. Seems your countrymen are now the world's experts at preserving bodies. You know, with all the science they developed to preserve him."

"Yes," she said. "Russian science is the best."

"Well," said Bryce, "About preserving bodies maybe, but you've got to admit that Western science can be pretty good too."

"Like what, Peter? Your space program? Go ahead and brag about that."

Chuck started laughing. "She got you there, dude. They put a satellite up first. Put a man in orbit first. First woman. First spacewalk. We land on the moon in '69 and declare the race won." Chuck continued to laugh. "Of course, we didn't ask the Soviets if they thought the race was over. Did you know we rely on them to get to the space station now?"

"You seem to know a lot of Russian history, Chuck," said Banacheck.

"Oh, no. I'm just a big nerd and I like space stuff. I think all of that is really cool," he replied. "I don't know that much about Russia. I'd love to visit though. And my fiancé speaks Russian, so it would be fun to visit with her."

"Your fiancé?" asked Sasha.

"No, kid," said Roan in his ear. "That won't work. Don't start talking about the other woman. Focus on her."

Chuck looked across the bar and caught Casey's eye. He made a face. Casey said, into the team's ears, "Shut up, Montgomery. You're throwing off his game."

Chuck gave Casey a small smile of thanks.

"Yeah, my fiancé. We're getting married at the end of the year. She's the best. Want to see her picture?"

Grinning like an idiot, Chuck showed Sasha a picture of Ellie on his phone.

"A beautiful woman," said Sasha.

In their ears, they heard Sarah say in disgust, "I can't believe I was willing to let Larkin join our team and Chuck still has to go through with this shit. Larkin's such an asshole."

In their ears they heard Roan say, "Why do you so down on him?"

"Because time and again he has screwed over the man I love. Chuck is a wonderful forgiving person. I'm not. It's that simple."

Bryce caught Chuck's eye, but there was nothing that could be said, then or later. Bryce looked like he had a stomachache.

"Hot mike, Walker," said Casey.

"Shit," said Sarah and fell silent.

Chuck said, "So, Sasha, are you in town long?"

"No. Just a few days."

"That's not much of a vacation," said Chuck.

"I'm here on business. I'll finish the business and leave. Make my way back to Europe." She said it as if staying in America was a form of penance.

"I'm sorry," said Chuck

"Won't you even get a chance to see the nightclubs down on Ocean Drive?" asked Bryce, which earned him a disapproving look.

"Or the alligators?" asked Chuck.

"What?" she asked, looking at Chuck with interest.

"Oh, yeah. In the Everglades there are a whole bunch of alligators. They have tours and stuff. I don't know if I'm going to get a chance, but I'd think it would be so cool to see them. They have big airboats...you know, the ones with the giant fan in the back? And they take you through the swamp to see the alligators."

For the first time that night, Sasha actually looked halfway interested in the conversation. "Alligators? Really?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm sure the concierge could set you up with the tour. I don't know how long your business is going to take, but you should look into it for sure."

"Maybe I will, Chuck," she said.

Sasha opened her purse and delved inside, moving some items onto the table at her knee. Eventually, she found her cigarettes and her lighter. Among the items from her bag on the table there was a flashdrive. Chuck and Bryce caught each other's eyes and silently communicated. That was the goal of the mission.

Taking out her cigarettes, Sasha gestured for a waitress.

"Can you bring me an ashtray, please?"

The waitress said, "Oh, Ma'am, I'm sorry. You aren't permitted to smoke in the hotel. You could step outside the main doors."

"Ah. Alright. Thank you." Turning to Chuck and Bryce, she said, "I feel like having a cigarette and walking on the beach."

Bryce said, "Perhaps you will permit us to join you, Sasha. It might not be safe for a woman alone on the beach at night."

"Thank you. That is very gracious of you." Standing up, she picked up her purse and began to walk to the back of the hotel, towards the beach. Bryce settled up the bill with the waitress and caught up with them.

Chuck was saying, "No, this is my first time in Miami. I like it though. Can't beat the weather. And I went swimming in the Atlantic today. I've never done that before. It was fun. The water was warmer than it is in the Pacific."

They exited the hotel grounds through a gate to a wooden boardwalk with the beach just past it.

Once they had all made it just a bit past the steps down from the boardwalk to the sand, Sasha turned to face them. She had a gun in her hand.

"Please don't move, gentlemen. Now raise your hands." Her voice had changed, becoming clipped and businesslike.

Bryce and Chuck raised their hands.

Banacheck's two thugs materialized out of nowhere with weapons in their hands. "Search them," she ordered. The men did so quickly and efficiently, finding no weapons. They stepped back.

Banacheck said, "Give me one of your earwigs."

Chuck and Bryce looked at her in surprise for a moment. She gestured with her gun and Chuck took out his earwig and handed it to her. "Sorry, it's a little waxy. You know...I didn't really expect to be sharing it."

Never taking her eyes from Chuck and Bryce, Sasha Banacheck slipped the tiny device into her ear and said, "Hello, Roan."

"Hello, Sasha."

"Did you miss me?"

"Not even a little bit," he responded. "I haven't thought about you in years."

"Oh. Now that wasn't very polite, Roan. I was hoping I'd get to see you. Instead you sent this idiot, the pretty boy. Really? Three olives? What? Did you teach that in class and he just memorized it? Not two, not four, three. No imagination. You'd have done much better to send the curly haired one alone. He at least has some personality." Chuck and Bryce exchanged a look. "But little Peter here ruined it for you. I knew immediately I'd find you on the other end of the microphone. Just like old times."

"Old times didn't work out too well for you. You shouldn't be trying to sell things to Fulcrum. They are a really bad outfit, Sasha."

"Oh, I've heard all about them. They intend to destroy American democracy from within. They are exactly my kind of people," she said. "A group I'm going to love to party with."

"Sounds like you haven't changed a bit," he said,

"Why don't you come on over and see for yourself? I'd love a chat in person," she said.

"No, not me, Sasha. I'm long past that stuff now."

"Well, I can't blame you, Roan. This is a game for younger people. People who have the agility to handle a quick change in direction. Whose plans have the flexibility to deal with any setbacks. Whose contingency plans have contingency plans. Better that you stay out of it."

"Taunting me, Sasha? Come on. That's not going to work. I think my ego can take it. You don't know me as well as you think you do."

"You know, Roan, I do know one thing about you. One thing I remember. You are loyal to your teammates. The men and women working with you. You are very loyal to them. There is nothing that will hurt you more than losing your team. So, I'm going to enjoy this."

"NO, SASHA. DON'T," screamed Roan.

She threw the earwig to Chuck.

"Take them down to the water's edge and kill them," Sasha said, starting to turn away and head back to the boardwalk.

Chuck said, "jIHvaD 'e' vIchaw'. ghaH SoH." [I'll take these guys. You go after her.]

Bryce replied, as they were being hustled down to the water, "Qo'. qaghajbe' jIH." [No, I'm not leaving you alone.]

Chuck said, slightly exasperated, "latlh vISov. JaH." [I got this. Go.]

Chuck stopped short and Fabio bumped into him. Chuck moved the man's gun hand aside and touched the long-haired blonde man on the arm. Fabio fell face first into the sand. The other thug looked at his partner surprised. That's when Bryce slammed the edge of his foot down on the back of the man's knee, driving him down. Chuck once again pushed away the gun and touched the kneeling man on the shoulder. He collapsed in a heap next to Fabio. His sudden collapse caused Bryce's follow-up blow to swish through the air over the man's falling head.

Without a word, Chuck took off running for the boardwalk to find Banacheck, just as Casey and Amy came down the steps to the beach.

"Where's Banacheck?" Casey asked.

"In the wind, I think. I can't see her. Give me a second," Chuck said as he ran a bit down the walk.

Bryce got to the edge of the stairs.

"What happened?" asked Casey.

"She got away."

"What was Chuck telling you in Klingon?"

"He told me to go after her and leave him alone with her men. He told me he had it...he had it covered. But I didn't think..."

Casey looked at the two men halfway down the beach, face down in the sand. "And you didn't do it, did you?" asked Casey.

"No. I wasn't going to leave Chuck there by himself..."

"Listen to me, Larkin. If he tells you he's got it covered, he's fucking got it covered. I'm trying not to get pissed off at you, because you thought you were looking out for him. I understand that. But you listen to Chuck. You listen to Chuck. Period."

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The entire team, plus Roan, were sitting in the living room of Chuck and Sarah's suite. They were a dejected bunch. Sasha was gone and the schematics with her. They had two of her thugs, but it was unlikely that they would have much in the way of useful information. In the morning, Casey and Amy would interrogate them at the local NSA offices where they were being held.

Sitting on the coffee table were two false rubber thumbs with needles poking out the top.

Roan pointed to them and said to Chuck, "Ok. Tell us."

"Magicians use them. I bought them at a magic store in Miami this morning. You know the trick when a magician stuffs a silk scarf into his fist and it disappears? The last finger on the stuffing hand he uses is his thumb. That's when he puts the false thumb on his finger with the scarf inside it. When everyone is looking at the fist with the scarf in it, or supposedly in it, he can shove the false thumb in his pocket and get rid of it. If you know what to look for, you can see it every time.

"So, Roan, when you mentioned last night that I couldn't bring the tranquilizer gun, it struck me. I didn't need a trank gun, I only needed the darts."

"But don't the darts have to be fired from the gun? Isn't that how they work? The momentum from the sudden stop forces the drug out the end of the needle?" asked Bryce.

"Nope, that's not how they work," said Chuck. He picked up one of the thumbs and shook the trank dart out onto the table. Picking up the dart he showed it to his friends. "The needle end is sealed, otherwise all the drug would leak out all over the place. No, the hole is here," he pointed, "on the side of the needle. It's opened when this little washer type thing is pushed off the hole in its passage through the skin. The drug is under pressure and squirts out into the victim when the hole opens. So, all I need to do is poke someone with the dart and they'll be out. But if they can see it coming, they'll avoid it. Hence the fake thumbs with a trank dart inside, the needle sticking out the top. The dark beach was the perfect time to try them."

"Good job, Kid," said Casey.

"Yeah," said Amy.

Shaking his head, Bryce said, "Damn. That's smart."

Even Roan looked impressed.

Sarah beamed at him with a thousand watt smile and said, "I love you."

"I love you too, Sweetie," he replied. "But now we have to find Sasha Banacheck and those schematics before she can transfer them to Fulcrum. And, it's going to be harder now that she knows we are after her."

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A/N3: Tranquilizer darts. Ok. A discussion of those handy little items is long overdue. What Chuck described is accurate. The drug in the dart is under pressure and a hole on the side of the needle (not the tip of the needle) is opened by the movement of a "washer" around the needle, thereby transferring the drug into the target's system. I've left reality behind in two ways, though – one minor and one major. It's a minor point that the size is wrong. The real-life darts are too big to fit inside a fake thumb. The major point is that there is no drug available that acts instantly, and, in any event, dosage is a major, major issue. If you administer too much drug to a small person, you may kill them; too little drug to a big person and they merely laugh at you. This explains why, in real life, for example, police aren't outfitted with such weapons. But, this isn't real life.

A/N4: Bryce goes down in flames while following Roan's advice with Sasha. Shame. I expect his ego will withstand the damage, though. To be honest, I found Roan's advice in canon sort of offensive. The behavior he suggested was essentially the equivalent of some practiced pick-up lines combined with an arrogant attitude. Maybe it's just the circles I've run in in my life, but I don't know of any women who would respond to that approach with anything but an eyeroll and a curt dismissal.

A/N5: Left canon behind again. I do that a lot, huh? We no longer have to trade hostages for the macguffin. Back to square one would be good, but we have ended up in a worse spot than square one. Sasha knows Team B has her in their sights and she will have left the hotel. At this point, we have to find her and then stop the sale to Fulcrum. Much harder than canon. Let me know what you think, please. It's what makes this fun.