Don't own Chuck
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"Prairie grass" the black-clad figure muttered to herself.
Five-and-a-half foot tall prairie grass is a real problem for a five-nine spy. She needed to be able to see if she was being followed. The grass apparently didn't agree, so she kept moving. Extraction was a full fifteen miles away from her current location and she had traveled five miles already. As much as she liked explosions, she didn't like when the owners' lackeys started to buzz around in an imitation of an angry swarm of bees, so she had opted to get moving quickly and start eating up the distance between her and the V-22 that would carry her home.
She wouldn't risk using a flashlight, so moonlight was the savior of the day. However, the tiny sliver of moonlight could only provide so much light, and she needed to move swiftly across the open prairie. She knew what could happen if she stepped in an animal's burrow, so a brisk walk was all she would currently risk. The spy had reason to be worried. She was reasonably sure she had seen a figure moving along the ridge to the north, and several sticks had broken behind her. The audio pattern could be random, or it could be a team of counter agents moving in to take revenge after she had torched their research station and left the proud six-story buildings as ten-story tall fires. It wouldn't help her case with them that she blew up all their cargo planes at the same time. The beautiful and complete destruction was still casting an angry orange glow across the smoke-filled night sky. Graham would be pleased with this outcome, provided she could make it back home.
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An hour later she checked her watch, noting that it should now be the darkest time of night. She had another ten miles to make before morning, but first she needed to be sure she had lost any tail. Spying a dip in the prairie directly in front of her, she slowed down and moved into the dip. Taking out the enemy agents would allow her to move faster. Waiting with her ear to the ground, ten minutes later she could hear soft footfalls of a small group approach her. Normally she would just wait until they moved in close enough to her that clean pistol headshots were a given, but escape demanded she be silent and swift, so she waited.
After stowing her pistol, she grabbed a large rock in one hand and a handful of dry, dusty dirt in the other. Closing her eyes, she focused on the vibrations of the ground and waited, synchronizing her breathing to her body motion and waited the final seconds until her match was to begin.
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Bryce had finished assembling his rifle while shadowing the target. He had been sure to stay behind the ridge as much as possible, but the agent was moving fast and he had to match their pace. The assignment was protection with no contact, no interaction. Personally, he thought the no-contact was a load of rubbish, but it wasn't his call and he could work within those parameters just fine. The problem was that a no contact, no interaction protection assignment usually meant some person had too much knowledge and someone wanted to kidnap them. The someone usually lacked any real skill in the hunt or the chase. Tailing a highly-skilled agent who would assume they were surrounded by enemies was a very separate job, and sounded to him like an invitation for him to be on the wrong end of a high-speed lead delivery from a friendly party. Regardless, he was overwatch, and whomever was down their appeared to be posturing for a fight.
He laid down on his belly, resting the rifle on his shoulder. Once pointed in the direction of the agent, Bryce sucking air into his lungs until the reticle rested perfectly centered on the back of the agent's head. Satisfied with the position, he extended his finger and pressed the button on the side of rifle. The objective of the optic sprang to life: wind, angle of attack, distance, and temperature readings each displayed in a dull shade of red. Pleased with the values, he double clicked the button and began scanning the area around the agent, the reticle automatically adjusting for changes in conditions. He would prefer to use the thermal scope to pick off the agent's attackers before they approached, but orders were orders. No intervention unless absolutely necessary.
Instead, Bryce watched the five-man squad walk into her trap and instantly become a four-man squad lead by a smashed nose. Two of the others quickly followed suite, but the fourth man managed to lift his pistol and clip her in the shoulder. She flinched slightly and missed her block on the fifth man, but rapidly recovered and crushed his trachea with a flat palm strike. She reached for her pistol, but was half a second too slow to avoid a fistful of dirt flung at her face. Fortunately, she managed to drop to her knees and duck beneath most of the cloud, but found her hands immediately engaged blocking punishing kicks. She grabbed a foot by the toe and heel, twisted, and the man fell to the ground with a thud. Before she could finish the job, another five-man team appeared from the bushes, catching her on her knees with her hands at least a quarter-second away from a weapon.
Bryce watched proudly as the agent blocked the fourth combatant's kicks. As she knocked him down, the agent turned check her surroundings. Bryce gasped, unable to contain the surprise at seeing a familiar face after so many years.
Zondra!
Before he could recover, another squad jumped out from the bushes. Bryce felt his hand steady, time slow, and made his decision. Trusting his training to control his body, he merely thought about which enemy to target, shifting the reticle and slowing his breathing.
Five shots, two-point-five seconds.
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As the bodies hit the ground like dominoes, Zondra instantly sprinted off into the bushes. She wasn't aware of having backup today, but apparently some warrior-angel was guarding her. Few in her line of work could operate a rifle with such pinpoint accuracy and speed. She wanted to thank them, but that would have to wait for another time. She needed to get back before the CAT squad's next mission, so maybe it had been Sarah making sure the next mission stayed on schedule.
Sarah hates it when we start missions late.
No matter who was behind the rescue, Zondra was thankful she was safe.
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Bryce rolled onto his back, staring at the stars as if they would tell him what to do. It had been five years since he had seen her, and that had ended with her fist kissing his eye goodbye before she left without another word.
Never form attachments he scoffed. Attachments are what held the agent's loyalty to the country. A more accurate statement would have been 'no attachment except to your orders'. His mind had never found peace with the concept, but most times he could ignore it. Now, with the woman of his past slipping away into the night, he couldn't hide from himself.
Don't forget, she hates you. You made sure of that. Best to leave her be, her current squad is near flawless and has the Ice Queen. She will be fine.
His breathing was once again a steady rhythm, so he followed her lead and slipped away into the night. His extraction would be waiting for him in two weeks time across the desert. He had a job to do. He mimicked Zondra, and disappeared into the night.
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A/N
A while ago I read SmatterChoo's A Spy in the House of Chuck, and found a rare gem: a good but broken Bryce. I loved the way they paired Bryce and Zondra, the two seem to be a nice fit. Some time later, I randomly listened to Caroline Jones's cover of the song Brown Eyed Girl, and the song struck a cord that resonated what I felt characterized the Bryce/Zondra relationship up until chapter 21 of A Spy in the House of Chuck. Not wanting to fly too close to SmatterChoo's universe, I crafted this meeting between the heartsick agents.
I'm in the minority in the Chuck fandom, and see Bryce as a good person with a weak moral compass. When Chuck asked him what he should do about Sarah's caring for him (s2ep3), Bryce answered that Chuck would do the right thing, and I believe that is exactly what Bryce meant. Bryce didn't know the right thing, and left it to Chuck. I was always annoyed that TPTB never fleshed out exactly how Bryce decided he needed to take such a risky move as sending the intersect to Chuck. It always seemed like Bryce knew something we didn't, and I think that was on purpose.