A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long. I'm working long hours at my new job, so finding time to write is harder now. Thanks again to Aerox for the quick turnaround on this one.

Chapter 5:

Paris

Charles de Gaulle Airport

"I'm not so sure about this plan," Sarah tucked a stray wisp of red hair behind her ear and whispered in the back of the limo on the way to the airport. The taxi from Nice had cut deeper into their legitimately-gained funds, so the limo, like their chartered private flight, was funded through Chuck's hacking proceeds. He hadn't technically had to resort to stealing anything, since he'd managed to get into the bank records of their stolen identities and moved the decimal point on their victims' balance to the right one. The bank would discover the intrusion eventually, and have some cross words for the Cargalians of Brooklyn, New York, for taking advantage of a bank error, but by then Chuck and Sarah would hopefully have access to their own accounts once more, and could make good on the 'loaned' funds.

Chuck leaned in closer, whispering himself in turn, "It was your plan in the first place. Well, mostly."

She glared at him briefly, and then rolled her eyes. "If we go to jail for the rest of our lives I'm not signing you up for conjugal visits."

Chuck clutched his chest as if mortally wounded, then stuck his tongue out. "If that's the way you wanna be, fine. I'm sure I can wrangle up some creepy true-crime fans if I have to. They'll be all over me when the ballistics matches me up to the slugs in Decker."

Sarah wrinkled her nose. "Ewg."

"Kidding."

"I know, but it'd totally happen exactly like that," Sarah said, "Hence, ewg." She mimed sticking a finger down her throat and gagging. "Can't we talk about something else, try to take my mind off the impending disaster?"

"I thought that's what we were doing. Prison not sounding all that bad from my end, what with the groupies and-ow!" Chuck cut off, rubbing his arm where she'd punched him.

"No groupies for you," she said.

"How is that fair? I'm sure you'll have your own groupies!" Chuck said. "You're far prettier than me. You'll be the belle of the Prison Ball. That's a thing, right?"

"What kind of prison movies have you been watching all your life?" she said, struggling not to roll her eyes at him again.

"Well, the ones about women's prison have certainly been eye-opening. 'Double-D Block Babes,' 'Caged Heat?' Where did you think I learned how to do that one thing with my tongue you like."

Sarah's eyes went suddenly wide. "Ew, ew! Don't ruin that for me!" she hissed. "Tell me you're kidding!"

Chuck shrugged airily and Sarah stared at him, unsure whether to believe him or not, until he finally broke down into laughter. Then she punched him in the arm again, harder than before, and the limo pulled up to their plane.

"See," Chuck pointed, "You didn't even notice when we went through the checkpoint."

Sarah blinked. "This is still a bad plan," she said.

"Our passports are going to hold up, aren't they?"

Sarah shrugged and crossed her fingers at him. Revenge for his earlier teasing? Hopefully. The driver came around and let them out of the back of the limo-not a stretch, just a fancy sedan, since their funds were stretched-and onto the tarmac. Sarah scooted out of the back seat ahead of him and Chuck followed. Their pilot, a tall man in a white shirt with those little fiddly bits on his collar-epaulets, Chuck's brain reported a beat late-was waiting to shake Chuck's hand and usher him and Sarah aboard.

The charter had run nearly twenty five thousand dollars, since they had to pay for the flight crew's return, even if they weren't using it. Chuck didn't believe for one second that they wouldn't be able to fill a New York to Paris charter flight on short notice, but he knew as well as anyone how that game was played.

Billed labor hours at the Buy More had, had only a passing acquaintance with reality, and this was only different in the matter of scope.

Chuck felt a brief pang of nerves as the ground crew manhandled their bags up the Leerjet's boarding stairs, but somehow the golf bag didn't spill open and send guns and parts of guns scattering all over the tarmac while Chuck tried to shove them back into golf bag to the accompanying strains of Yakety Sax. So at least his actual nightmare on the subject from the previous evening hadn't come true... yet. Sarah paused to straighten his collar and ruffle his dyed-blond hair before they headed up the boarding stairs.

A French customs agent came up into the plane while Chuck and Sarah were still getting situated, introduced himself and began grilling them. It wasn't meant that way, of course, and thankfully they had a story prepared. Since Chuck and Sarah were basically stealing the New York couple's identities for the brief purposes of fleeing the country, Sarah had spent a good deal of time, the night before, drilling the story into him and it paid off.

"We're sorry to see that you're cutting your trip short, Monsieur et Madame Cargalian," the man said, glancing briefly at their passports. Sarah's work there-after a couple hours tracking down an old photo-booth to take fake passport photos in-seemed to do the trick, and the customs man handed them back quickly.

Chuck took up their prepared story easily. "Oh, we're not really cutting it short," he said. "But something came up; we got a tee time on short notice at Augusta National. We'll be flying back in a couple days."

"Oh," the Frenchman's eyes widened. "That's... remarkable."

"We don't even have time to stop by our house," Chuck said. "So I had to buy clubs here." This of course was the hole in their story, since any golf course would have rental clubs, and they had to sell it now.

The customs man blinked, "Eh, couldn't you rent clubs?"

Sarah nodded. "Oh, I'm going to rent. But Frank just had to have his own set."

"I'm actually not that good at golf. Sometimes I get mad and break clubs over my knee," Chuck said. "They charge an arm and a leg when I bust rental clubs. It winds up being cheaper to buy my own."

The Frenchman looked a little taken aback by all of that, but laughed good-naturedly. "Ah, well, we must get to business. Are you taking anything out of the country, such as wine or foodstuffs purchased here..."

"Just the golf clubs," Chuck said. "We left most of the rest of our luggage at the hotel. We didn't even bother to check out, since we'll be coming right back. But don't worry, they've still got our credit cards."

They all shared a laugh at the idea that Frank and Mary Cargalian of Brooklyn, New York would ever run out on a hotel bill, and the customs agent went down his little list, finished satisfied that all was as it seemed, shook Chuck's hand and headed down the little stairs. Chuck and Sarah strapped in and the little business jet taxied and its engines roared.

They'd done it.

Of course, they weren't out of the woods yet. There was still customs in the US to deal with, and passport control, where Sarah's work would truly be tested. But, really all they had to worry about now was the Thompsons noticing their passports missing. Chuck and Sarah considered it less likely they would notice the anomaly in their bank balance so quickly. Still, as the hours ticked slowly by, the tension mounted.

Finally coming to a decision, Sarah unbuckled, half-turned in her seat and poked Chuck in the side. "Ow, hey!" he said, clutching his side. "What's wrong?"

Sarah merely raised her eyebrows and looked around the interior of the plane.

"I don't get it," Chuck said.

She rolled her eyes. There was no flight attendant, just the pilot and copilot, and they had disappeared into the cockpit early in the flight, leaving Chuck and Sarah some privacy. "Remember the original reason we thought of for chartering our own plane?" She hit a button in Chuck's armrest and his seat flew back. Sarah spun over to straddle him.

"Oh." Chuck said, blushing. Sarah grinned and ruffled his bleached hair. "I guess blondes really do have more fun."

They were much less stressed out, and safely dressed again, when the pilot's voice came over the cabin PA system announcing they were beginning their descent. "Mmm..." Sarah grinned. "Going down. He's a little late to the party, isn't he?"

Chuck went crimson and Sarah chortled.

"I can't believe you said that!"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Please, that's not even the dirtiest thing I've said on this plane ride. It barely makes the top ten even if you're only counting the first week I knew you."

"We fought pirates and gangsters the first week I knew you," he grumbled. Chuck sulked briefly, and then they were on the ground.

New York

JFK Airport

Customs coming into the US was where things could really fall apart. They gave the passports more than the cursory glance French customs had given. People leaving a country were usually given less scrutiny than those trying to enter. But Sarah's work on their stolen passports was up to the challenge, and their bags came through without a problem. Once out on the street, Chuck and Sarah dumped their 'borrowed' passports into an international express mail envelope, minus their fake passport photos, and mailed them back to France. Throwing away passports was one of those things that was apt to draw attention from the people who emptied the trash. Even the most numbed-by-their-thankless-job usually had enough human kindness left in them to fish out passports if they spotted them. The cash left over from their traveller's checks had to be changed back into dollars, which took time, and another bite out of their money, since the bank didn't give them the best exchange rate. Chuck figured there was some amount of 'invisible service charge' built into it.

Chuck and Sarah were still operating under the assumption that they were now or soon would be wanted, as 'Chuck' and 'Sarah'. So, new false identities were in order. Now that they were in the States, back on somewhat familiar ground, their options became a little better. Midtown Manhattan, after a taxi ride that took yet another small but significant bite out of their funds, offered any number of skilled professionals who might aid the twosome in their disappearing act.

Sarah had contacts; which was a little jarring for Chuck. He knew about her and her fathers' past as conpeople, in the abstract. But the first phone call she made hit paydirt, which spoke to a level of competence and loyalty among peers that he wasn't expecting. Chuck had a fair number of preconceived notions as to what Sarah's conwoman past had entailed, and he'd never really stopped to examine them. "So, who are we going to see?" Chuck asked waiting in line for a metro pass. "Some ex-boyfriend who makes fake ids? Ex-girlfriend?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "No. God. Well, technically."

"Wait, what?"

"Not my ex-girlfriend. My dad's ex. For a while there she was kind of unofficially my step-mom... ish. Dad couldn't stomach some aspects of raising a pre-teen girl. Some of the... mechanical... topics needed a woman's touch."

"Mechanical? Oh, ew. Who can blame him for outsourcing that?"

Sarah shook her head. "Anyway, she's kind of a specialist in fake IDs. So, that should work out, and it'll give us someplace to lie low while we figure out our next move."

"Huh. Funny coincidence that we 'borrowed' identities from New York and you happened to have such a trusted contact in new york."

"Eh, trusted-ish," Sarah said. "We're not gonna tell her everything, obviously."

"My point was-"

"I know. We said one thing at a time. I didn't even know if she was still gonna be living here, and I didn't want to get your hopes up," Sarah cocked her head at a thoroughly unintelligible announcement over the subway train's PA system."Okay, this is our stop."

They got up out of the Subway station and walked a couple blocks to a beat-up old Brownstone, headed up the front steps and rang the bell. The response took a minute or so, and then there was an extended period of locks and chains being unlatched on the other side of the door, and finally a soft boom that might have been a heavy locking bar being thrown. "Your step-mom is very security conscious," Chuck said while this was still going on."

Sarah shrugged. "It pays to be, in her business."

"You never really said what that was, by the way."

"She's a counterfeiter."

The door creaked open, to reveal a middle-aged brunette, a couple inches shorter than Sarah with a couple wisps of gray in her hair. She was dressed in a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up and jeans. "Please, Katie, 'Printing and Engraving Specialist.'"

Sarah grinned and shook her head. "Tomato, tomahto," she said. "And I haven't been Katie in a long time, Janet."

"Well, fancy that. I haven't been Janet in five years myself. So what should I call you and your friend here?"

"Hi, I'm Chuck," he said, extending his hand in greeting. Not-Janet took it briefly and then looked at Chuck a little more closely.

"That's your actual name, isn't it?" she said, somewhat taken aback.

"Hey, I didn't tell you my last name, did I?"

"What's your last name?"

He even took up the standard pose. "Bond, Chuck Bond."

Not-Janet stared for a moment, Then turned to Sarah. "Where did you find this guy?"

"Long story." Sarah shrugged again. "Call me Sarah, for now. That's part of why we came to you. We need new IDs, and some walking around money."

"Well come in off the stoop. I don't talk business out in the street."

Sarah hid a wince. "Business?" she said, "I was hoping more like a favor. We're kind of tapped at the moment."

Not-Janet closed the door behind them and locked up. Chuck had been right, there was a huge steel locking-bar on the reverse side of the door, almost like something you'd see in an old-timey castle or something. The entryway was fancy but shabby, like it hadn't been kept up recently. The furniture was all antique, or maybe just old, given the condition. The whole bottom floor of the Brownstone was packed to the rafters with old furniture. Some of it was worth good money, probably, to certain collectors. Chuck had begun to develop something of an eye for that sort of thing lately.

Not-Janet led them to a staircase in the back and Chuck cleared his throat. "Okay, you win, Lady. I'm through calling you 'not-Janet' in my head."

"Nadine, then. That ID doesn't have any heat on it yet. Call me Nadine."

"Great," Chuck said. Sarah looped her arm through his and gave his shoulder a pat. Nadine spotted it and raised an eyebrow briefly, then led the way into an upstairs office, complete with a photo backdrop.

"Any preferences on the names?"

Sarah shrugged. "Not really. Probably for safety you should make us married. Although, the people hunting us might expect that. Siblings might be better."

Chuck's mouth dropped open. He hadn't expected her to suggest that.

Sarah gave him a brief consoling glance. "But we should probably stock up while we've got the chance. Any spares you've got lying around we can grab?"

Nadine looked a little put out by the request. "I'm not a charity, Katie. I can get you two throwaways each, plus one that should hold up for a couple weeks. Beyond that, you've got to pay like everybody else."

Sarah nodded. "I'm sorry to impose on you like this in the first place. We've got a couple grand we can give you to help even the scales."

"Fake IDs haven't been that cheap for a lot of years," Nadine said. "And keeping one step ahead of the FBI these days is a lot harder than it useta be. But I'll take it. Two thousand buys you each a fake passport that should pass muster at least once getting you out of the US and into more trouble."

"Thanks," Sarah said. "I know you're giving me the family discount, and I appreciate it."

Then it was picture time. Luckily Nadine had spare clothes for just such an emergency, so they didn't have to go around in the same clothes as they were wearing in their new IDs. While the ink was drying on their new sets of IDs, Nadine offered them tea and cookies, which Chuck took to with gusto. Nadine and Sarah caught each others eyes and shared a little bit of a laugh at him, until Chuck spotted the smirk and glared at her. He set aside the cookie plate, and a crash came from downstairs.

"NYPD, this is a raid!"

"Crap, were you followed?" Nadine demanded.

"No," Sarah insisted. "We were careful. They must be after you."

"I guess Nadine had more heat on her than I thought," the older woman said. "Nice knowing you."

TO BE CONTINUED...

A/N: I really appreciate all the reviews so far, especially since it's been more than a year since the show went off the air. You guys and gals are all awesome. Please keep those reviews coming. I seriously need the encouragement at this point.