I still don't own Chuck. I'm not sure who does at this point.

The worst thing for an author is silence. You can't tell if you're connecting with your readers, if they're getting where you think the story is going or not. And those comments don't have to be praise. Of course, I'd be lying if I tried to say that I don't enjoy the praise. But I actually learn more from the critical comments. Just as long as you're respectful and allow me to respond, you can say anything.

Desperate Times

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Chuck was trying in vain to catch his breath. Finally he was so exhausted that he was forced to drop to his knees. Sarah watched him struggle with the concern plainly written all over her face. "Are you sure that you're all right?" she finally asked. "You don't look so good."

Chuck was finally able to force enough air in his lungs to speak. "That was awful," he panted. "Are all of my assignments going to be this brutal? I knew that life on the run would bring some desperate times. But are you trying to kill me in the first two weeks?"

At last Sarah knew that he would survive… and that got her laughing. "Wow," she said. "First of all, this wasn't an assignment. You're the one that suggested that we race. And two weeks? We've already been here a month."

Chuck was still panting. They were on a small island someplace in the Caribbean Sea. The route Sarah took them to avoid the CIA's ever present eyes took almost a week to get here. Naturally, she avoided any public transportation. They got out of Europe on a Russian cargo ship. That was a long few days. Sarah was right when she said that, even as a civilian, men would still be trying to look down her shirt. But her flirting smile did get them secretly out of Europe. It was a tactic that she had obviously used before. At least this time she kept herself hidden most of the time to keep out of sight of the captain and all-male crew. Chuck didn't ask about the previous times.

From Panama it was a series of small chartered boats and seaplanes. Finally they were here… wherever here was. Sarah called it a cay. That clearly was a fancy word for a ridiculously small island. But it definitely was gorgeous. The snow white beach ringed the entire island. The crystal clear blue water was something right out of a movie. And while the living quarters weren't much to look at from the outside, Chuck quickly learned that was by design. Once you got inside you saw that it was mostly hidden in the side of the hill and as luxurious as any high end resort in the world. He playfully called it a cabin for the rich and famous. Sarah always corrected him. She called it a cabin for the rich and 'don't want to be famous.' Whichever, it was a place where the right amount of money bought complete privacy and total loyalty from the staff.

"I demand a rematch," Chuck said when he could finally stop panting. "I didn't think you had a chance. Swimming around the entire island? That has to be almost two miles. Where did you learn to swim like that?" It was true. He didn't think she had a chance. After all, the Intersect gave him quickness and instant access to every swimming stroke ever invented. At first he had built a huge lead… was sure that he would win easily. Then he learned something sobering. The Intersect didn't help all that much with cardio endurance. And Sarah was in much better physical shape than he was. Once she caught up, he was helpless to stay with her.

Sarah's eyes were shinning. "I keep telling you… it's called a cay," she corrected. "Before we talk about any rematch, I think it's important that you pay off the bet from the first one, don't you?"

Okay, she was giggling. Since they left France she was mostly always giggling. But she wasn't really kidding. Chuck had known that his wife was competitive from almost the day he met her. These bets were becoming more and more common. Sarah plainly didn't mind losing. In fact, Chuck fully recognized that some of the bets she proposed were such that she knew she couldn't win… just to see what he would come up with. But she also collected in full when she did win. "Aren't you getting a little sexed out?" he teased.

That got Sarah laughing. In fact she was laughing so hard that for a long moment all she could do was shake her head. "Don't even try it," she was finally able to get out. "I won fair and square. Sexed out? I hate to break this to you, but as a woman, I'm in the prime years of my peak sexuality. I have well over a decade to make up for. I'll tell you what. Ask me that question again in thirty years or so. It might not sound quite so stupid."

That got Chuck laughing. "I'm not trying to get out of anything," he protested playfully. "I'm at your service. What would madam desire?"

Sarah was still laughing. She looked at him as if he had suddenly sprouted a third eye. "Did someone hit you with a stupid stick this morning?" she asked sarcastically. "You're on a roll with the stupid questions. Take a wild guess at what madam would desire."

Chuck had to admit, she had a point. She always asked for the same thing. "Can we go to the bedroom?" he asked hopefully. He knew she was a little sensitive to not embarrassing him. She had insisted that they make love in the surf a couple of times… until she discovered that sand was actually billions of tiny pieces of glass… and that squirming on it with someone on top of you wasn't quite as comfortable as she had hoped.

Then again, it was a private beach… on a private island… um, cay. Sarah had been topless since the very first minute her toe set foot on the beach and lately was completely naked practically all day. The only thing she even came close to wearing was some invisible thing the first couple of nights when she wanted to set the mood. After a couple of times even that clearly became unnecessary as she quickly found that the mood was pretty much always already set. So now the only clothes she wore were those required by their role playing… and they were most definitely temporary.

Chuck, not so much. Something about being naked outside still made him blush, especially in the daylight. And it actually wasn't totally private. There were six staff members who lived on the island… um, the cay. They blended into the surroundings so well that you almost forgot that they were there. They spoke French so Sarah was the only one who could comfortably speak with them. Chuck quickly discovered that speaking wasn't necessary. At first, it was a little disconcerting. It you hinted you were thirsty, a tasty frozen pineapple rum drink almost magically appeared in your hand. At dinner time there was a five course dinner waiting in the dining room. Chuck hardly ever knew exactly what he was eating… but it was beyond delicious. Sarah demanded that he lose the shirt before they were all the way to the water on that first day. "I'll make you a deal," she said with a grin. "We'll go into the bedroom, but first you have to agree to pack away that ridiculous bathing suit for the duration."

Responding to his look, Sarah started laughing again. "Nobody's looking," she said. "To the victor go the spoils. Why should I be the only one naked? That doesn't seem fair. I think they are slowing you down anyway. Maybe in the spirt of paying your debt you could do the honors right here… go a little slowly… give me a sexy show."

Chuck had to admit, she had another point. When Sarah paid off a debt, a sexy show was always included in the package. She was really getting into this lifestyle. It was hard to look at her all relaxed and beaming without her mood being contagious. Chuck smiled at her and hooked his thumbs in the waist of his trunks. "Just how slowly do you want me to go?" he teased. "I'll be a good sport. You do realize that you're out of control?"

Suddenly Sarah had her arms around his neck. Since Chuck's trunks were about halfway down, that almost caused them to stumble. The emotion was plain in her voice. "I'm happy, sweetie," she said. "My life is perfect."

"I never thought I could be this happy."

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"I'm not happy."

It probably went without saying. General Beckman was rarely happy. If there was any ambiguity, she said it again. "I never thought I could be this unhappy," she said. "It's been a month. Are you really going to stand there and tell me that you haven't found them?"

Carina bit her lip to suppress the snicker and shot a look at Casey. She was dying to tell him the truth. But it was probably better if he didn't know anything. At least they weren't the main ones in the hot seat this time.

"Walker is a pro," Shaw said flatly. "They are obviously holed up in some shack in Europe. That's where we're concentrating our search. As soon as they run out of money they'll be forced out into the open. They won't be able to stay hidden for very long after that… not someone who looks like Walker. Any man who ever catches a glimpse of her will certainly remember."

"Find them," Beckman growled. "I don't have to remind you that we have an Intersect 2.0 roaming around Europe out of control. The President hands me my ass about this every single day. Turn up the heat."

As soon as the monitor went blank, Shaw turned to the team. "We're getting nowhere fast," he sighed. "What about the sister? She must know where they are. What do we have on her?"

Carina couldn't totally suppress the smile. Ellie was under 24 hour constant surveillance. If she belched, it was in the daily report. Fortunately, Carina was the lead agent on that and could secretly keep her up to date. So she didn't know where they were. What good would that do? All she knew was that they were safe… and as of yesterday anyway, having a very, very, very good time. "Dr. Bartowski is squeaky clean," Carina said. "There's no way they could possibly contact her without us knowing."

Shaw shook his head. "I don't believe that," he said. "They have some way to communicate with her. We need to get closer. Perhaps she can be seduced. Let's see about a cover that gets her working with me."

Carina was biting her lip so hard to keep from laughing that she nearly drew blood. She didn't know Ellie all that well, but she did know that she wasn't a serious seduction candidate… especially not by this stiff piece of wood. She had only been married for a couple of months. Okay, Shaw was good looking… in a way… if you were into that sort of look. He certainly was the pretty boy type that Sarah used to pretend not to slobber over. But Devon was at a different level. He was most certainly the best looking man Carina had ever met. She knew the smart thing would be to keep her mouth shut, warn Ellie what was coming, and have fun watching Shaw strike out all on his own. That would be entertaining. And it might even keep Shaw busy for a few weeks. She just couldn't help taking a shot at this arrogant SOB. "You're not going to be able to seduce her," she said flatly. "Dr. Bartowski won't be interested… especially not with you. You're not her type. She's very conservative and recently married… to a Greek God."

Shaw's jaw showed that he clearly got her point. "Okay," he said. "I have a better idea."

"I know exactly what to do."

x-x-x-x-x

Sarah was right.

It was easy as taking candy from a baby. This was their third hit. Once they were inside, the ten or so men were no match for an Intersect. They were all in various stages of unconsciousness before they even knew what hit them. Naturally, getting them inside was Sarah's job. As it turned out, she was just as sexy in long black hair. Next week, they were going to start seeing if she was as sexy as a redhead. The odds were good.

Sarah clearly was enjoying playing the part of his eye candy. With the general skimpiness of what she was barely wearing, the men were barely looking at him. It was hardly fair. All they had to do was show up a few minutes early pretending to be the buyers, disable the muscle, and wait with the drugs for the actual buyers to arrive with the money. The hardest part was loading the heavy suitcases of cocaine and money into the van.

Of course the safest thing would have been to not leave survivors behind. Although the various cartels were disjointed and unorganized, their descriptions would eventually become known and this would become more dangerous. These men didn't look very fondly on bandits stealing their drugs and money. If they were ever caught the results would be unimaginable horror. Sarah argued that a quick bullet would prevent those descriptions from making their way back to headquarters. But being married had changed her. And naturally, Chuck quickly vetoed that idea anyway. A year ago, she would have insisted and they would probably have fought about it. Not now. He always teased her to come up with different disguises and still be sexy. Besides, he argued, they weren't going to do this too many times. They already had some thirty million dollars. Maybe it wasn't enough to spend the rest of their lives on a private cay. That was most definitely a high rent district. But it was more than enough to find that quiet suburb with Sarah's red door.

They had just finished securing that last of the unconscious men when Chuck looked at his wife. She was beaming. It was funny. On the cay, she was naked as a jaybird most of the time. Here she was, well, dressed wasn't the right word. But she could walk down the street without getting arrested. And yet, she was even sexier in her eye candy outfit. "You're really enjoying this," he said. "I've never seen you this alive."

Sarah nodded with a grin. "A little," she said. She quickly responded to his look. "I know you," she warned. "Don't go getting any crazy ideas. Yes, I'm having a good time doing this with you. But it doesn't mean that I want to be a spy. I don't."

Chuck wouldn't be Chuck if he hadn't paused. "Are you sure?" he asked.

Sarah lost most of her smile. "Please stop," she said. "I know what this is. You're really going to make me say this, aren't you? You want some big sappy romantic scene? Okay, here's the truth. I'm enjoying myself because I'm doing it with you. I enjoy everything with you. I'm going to enjoy raising a family with you even more."

"Was that really so hard to say?" Chuck teased. "Thank you. I understand what you mean. For the record, it didn't sound all that sappy. Can I tell you that standing there you're the sexiest thing I have even seen?"

That got her laughing. "Well, you're in luck," she said. "Can I tell you that watching you blow through ten men turns me on?"

"Don't take this the wrong way," Chuck teased. "I'm certainly not complaining. But lately, turning you on doesn't seem like a herculean effort."

Sarah was still laughing. "I know," she said.

"That's why you're in luck."

x-x-x-x-x

Ellie was just pouring herself a glass of wine when the knock came at the door. Devon was working the late shift at the hospital. Ellie probably shouldn't have admitted this, but having a quiet evening all to herself sounded pretty good. Her life was so busy.

But a quiet evening wasn't in the cards for tonight. When Ellie opened the door a crack, she was looking at a stranger flashing an ID in her face. "Daniel Shaw," he said. "Special Agent for the DEA. Dr. Bartowski, can I ask you a few questions?"

Ellie took the chain off and opened the door. Agent Shaw? That name sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. "Come in," she sighed. It wasn't all that unusual for a doctor who regularly prescribed controlled substances to get a visit from the DEA tracking down abusers. "What can I do for you?"

Shaw handed Ellie a stack of papers. "I'm hoping you can explain this," he said.

Ellie leafed through the papers. They were copies of scripts for Fentanyl. They were made out to various people. But the kicker was the signature. It was hers. "These aren't mine," she protested. "I hardly ever prescribe Fentanyl. And if I ever did, it would have been through the hospital. These must be forgeries."

Shaw shook his head. "We've already done the handwriting analysis," he said. "It's confirmed that these are your signatures. I'm afraid that we have an air tight case… unless we make a deal."

Ellie numbly continued to thumb through the scripts. "These aren't mine," she insisted. Then she thought through the ramifications. She had read the stories of doctors getting busted for drug trafficking. They didn't get much sympathy from the legal system. Typically, the book was thrown at them. "Agent Shaw, these aren't mine. I swear. But just for discussion purposes, what sort of deal?" she asked.

"We're working on a major trafficking operation," Shaw growled. "I have to tell you, you make me sick. Rich doctors using their position of authority to run drugs makes me livid. You need to see what those bastards make teenage girls do to get their next fix sometime. Maybe you need to be in that same position. I'm sure there are plenty of folks where you'll be going who will be happy to oblige. Frankly, I'd rather enjoy the knowledge of seeing you rot in prison on your knees every night as the bitch for some big, sweaty, fugly dyke, praying that you can make her happy enough to not beat you or loan you out. You deserve it. But if you were to plead guilty and cooperate fully… and I do mean fully, I could hold my nose and get you a minimum sentence."

Ellie took full note of his rant. "And what would that be?" she asked.

Shaw considered the question. "First time offense," he said thoughtfully. "If you were willing to fully cooperate, I think I can get you 3 to 5 in a dyke free, minimum security prison."

Ellie was now sobbing. That was a minimum sentence? "These aren't mine," she insisted.

"I didn't think so," Shaw replied skeptically. "They never are, are they? The real question is, can you convince a jury?"

Suddenly Ellie remembered where she had heard the name… and the light bulb went on. "So, Agent Shaw," she said. "I know who you are. What's this really about?"

Shaw smiled. Having her be the one to raise the subject was a victory in itself. He was holding all the cards. If it actually came to that, the signatures the CIA had created would hold up in any court. "Your brother," he said. "If you could tell me where he is, I probably could be convinced to let this matter drop."

Ellie shook her head. "I don't know where he is," she said. Now she understood a lot better why she didn't know… for this exact circumstance.

Shaw didn't stop smiling. "I didn't think so," he said as he got out his handcuffs.

"Maybe a few days in a lockup might trigger your memory."

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