A/N: Man, a lot of reviewers just cringed at the introduction of Bryce. Take deep breaths. He's not a PLI for anybody in this story, trust me. He's here for the spy-plot exposition.

Chapter 13:

Sarah shook her head. "We don't have time for this," she said, already halfway over to the Jeep. "Cut him loose, grab a gun and let's go."

Chuck sawed through the rope binding Bryce's hands behind his back and started helping him to his feet. Any animosity he had toward his former friend had to be back-burner-ed for the moment. They had more important things to talk about, like what in frak was going on. Bryce worked his wrists in little circles for a moment to get his circulation back before he stooped to pick up and methodically check-over the fallen gunman's dropped AK-47.

"We've actually got a couple minutes. The others were expecting some gunfire," Bryce said, "and it would have taken these two a few minutes to fill my grave back in." He punctuated it by nudging the man Chuck had shot with the toe of his boot. Chuck blinked and tried to fight off a sudden bout of nausea. Dammit, he could freak out about that later.

"You want to take the chance, that's fine," Sarah said. "Me and Chuck will be taking this Jeep and trying to find the docks. You can find your own boat home."

Bryce chuckled. "Who's your girlfriend, Chuck? She's feisty."

"She's not my girlfriend," Chuck said almost instinctively.

"I'm not?" Sarah demanded, head whipping around to fix him with a glare, and her voice a touch on the shrill side.

Chuck blinked and stared at her with a sort of deer in the headlights expression on his face. "Well, uh... we never did talk about whether were were putting that kind of label on things... and you see... uhmmm..." The glare slowly ate into the stream of words until he trailed off uncomfortably.

Sarah beckoned him with a crook of her finger and he grimaced and trudged over.

She grabbed him as soon as he came within reach and put him in a headlock so she could whisper fiercely into his ear."You know that thing that keeps happening that we both like so much?"

"Yes," Chuck said in a slightly strangled tone.

"That makes you my boyfriend. Got it?" Sarah released the headlock and puffed her bangs out of her face. She plopped into the driver's seat and glared pointedly, awaiting his response.

"Yes..." Chuck said and tugged at the collar of his shirt nervously. "Just don't we need to talk about it some more?"

"Why? It should have been obvious from the start. Get in the car."

Chuck stared at her in shock for a moment. After a brief stunned speechless moment, his mouth dropped open and his lips worked silently to find a logical response while he digested this utterly foreign concept. His body moved to obey her commands and he slipped into the passenger seat with little awareness of his actions.

She hadn't been avoiding the subject. She just didn't think it was... necessary to talk about? His head spun briefly and he shook his head. He really didn't know her at all. The fact that he'd only just met her -three days ago!- intruded on his thoughts for probably the first time since they'd landed on the island.

When he finally came to terms with the shift in his worldview, he turned to find Bryce in the backseat already. Chuck turned awkwardly in his seat and waved toward Sarah. "This is my girlfriend, Sarah. Please keep your hands to yourself."

"Because I have a shotgun," Sarah put in, slipping the Jeep into reverse and beginning a three point turn. "Which should make my thoughts on the matter clear as well?"

"Of course," Bryce said, looking confused. He frowned deeply, and the Jeep lurched forward. Bryce leaned forward to point out which direction for her to take around the bunker. "I don't know why you think I need the warning. When have I ever- Jill? You told her about- I can't believe you're still upset about Jill! I never- Chuck, she was working for a rogue faction of the CIA who made her break up with you. I was just a convenient scapegoat. And I never did anything to or with Jill, ever! I'm the one who told youabout the 'bro-code' in the first place!"

"Seriously," Sarah said over her shoulder, "You have six years to think about it and that's the best lie you come up with?"

"What? I'm serious, she's in Federal Prison. We just found out like a month ago."

"Wait. You're... Sarah, he's not lying." Chuck said. "Jill's a traitor?"

"I don't know the whole story, but she helped plan a germ warfare attack on some conference in LA," he said. "So, yeah. Traitor."

Chuck's eyes widened. "I heard about that. Germ warfare! It was a gas leak."

"Well, there's gas leaks. And there's 'gasleaks.'" The Jeep was passing its closest approach to the bunker as Sarah drove to where Bryce remembered the docks being. The bunker itself was still a good fifty or sixty yards off. Chuck spotted someone stick their head out, and let out a high pitched yell of alarm. The person had pretty good eyes to notice so quickly that something way amiss.

"Damn it," Bryce said softly, and shouldered his pilfered AK before Chuck or Sarah could react. He rippled off half a dozen rounds and the man disappeared back inside.

Bryce cursed again and shook his head. "Well, crap. Hit the gas, now!"

"Don't have to tell me twice!"

"Oh no! Bryce what have you done? Hold onto something!"

The gas pedal hit the floor with a metallic clunk and the engine roared. The Jeep lurched forward at almost literally break-neck speed, spewing gravel behind them.

Chuck and Bryce clung to the roll cage and the side of the Jeep respectively as the vehicle bounced over uneven stretches of the tiny gravel road that would hopefully lead to an escape route of some kind. "Dear god, who taught you to drive?" Bryce demanded. Sarah spun the wheel and slewed them into a turn, coming around the corner of the bunker to reveal a couple of small outbuildings, a dockhouse and a storage garage of some kind. They were only a few hundred yards away, which at the rate the Jeep was currently going, wouldn't take long at all.

"Crap!" Bryce shouted. "They've got another Jeep! Get us behind the doc-khouse, fast!"

The Jeep ate up the distance quickly, and in a bare handful of seconds, maybe ten at the most, Sarah shouted, "Hang onto your butts!" over the roaring engine and slammed them into a horribly sharp turn, mashing the brakes as she did.

More gravel was flung up as the Jeep went up briefly on two wheels, coming perilously close to flipping all three of them out. For what seemed like an eternity the Jeep teetered, before crashing back to all four wheels at a dead stop, shielded by the ramshackle dock-house from potential attack. At least for the moment.

Bryce hopped down from the back seat and the report of his AK jolted Chuck out of his relief that he had survived the full force of Sarah's maniacal driving once more.

His head turned just fast enough to see another gunman transfixed by the last couple rounds from Bryce's burst of automatic fire, and the man crumpled to the dirt.

"Anybody know how to hot-wire a boat?" he said in the same jaunty tone Chuck remembered from their time at Stanford. Bryce had just gunned a man down, and it hadn't made a dent in his flippant attitude.

Sarah came out of the shock at the violence faster than Chuck. "Just keep them off me for a few seconds," she ran for the dock, feet thumping on the wood. "Oh, hell. There's two boats!"

Chuck came back to himself and rushed over to where Bryce was taking cover by the dock-house. "Great. I had enough boat-chases for one week with the pirates!"

"Pirates, seriously?" Bryce grinned. "I've got to hear that story later." He leaned out of cover and let loose another long burst with the AK. Bullet-holes sprang up in the wood above their heads, and plumes of dirt where errant rounds hit the ground nearby. Bryce popped back into cover and ejected the magazine, reloading with a fresh one. He must have looted the man Chuck had killed more thoroughly while Sarah was making her boyfriend/girlfriend declaration. Chuck blinked and shook his head. He couldn't afford to let that thought distract him.

Two boats. Cover fire. He moved on autopilot, shuffling quickly in a crouch to the other corner of the dock-house and popping out for a brief burst from his own AK.

He ducked back into cover a split-second before he drew his own blast of return fire, and raised his voice to reach Sarah by the closer boat. "You got any of that C4 left!"

"Here!" came her reply, followed by a lobbed backpack.

"Hang on, what?" Bryce demanded, eyes darting to the backpack Chuck was rummaging through. "How do you..."

"Long story," Chuck interrupted him with a shrug. "Short version, pirates. Hold them off while I get this thing built. How you doing on ammo?" The sound of enemy fire was a constant background to shout over.

"Last mag!" Bryce replied. Chuck grunted and fished in his back pack as he ran in a crouch back to the Jeep. He threw his spare AK mag underhand. Bryce caught it and tucked it away in the same movement as he turned to fire another burst toward their pursuers. Chuck hadn't got a good look in that direction, and figured Bryce knew what he was doing. He pulled his survival knife and pried open the panel under the steering column. He wasn't exactly an expert on bomb making, but he'd need some wires. It took him two yanks to pull the wires that connected the starter solenoid to the ignition completely free.

Chuck wracked his brain to make sure he remembered everything from his Electrical Engineering electives at Stanford. Hopefully it would be enough, and he wouldn't blow himself up accidentally.

Sarah wondered briefly what Chuck wanted with the C4, but she didn't let it stop her from acting. She slashed the mooring lines and took a brief pass checking where the throttle and the wheel were in the small boat, and went down a mental checklist. She kept her head down and checked the engine connections and fuel supply and nodded. Thankfully hotwiring it hadn't been necessary. They'd left the keys in the ignition.

She slipped over the side and crawled across the expanse of dock to the second boat. It was identical to the first in almost every respect, including the keys in the ignition. It took her a precious handful of seconds to saw through the mooring ropes on the second boat when they didn't give instantly as the first boat's had.

Sarah tried to predict whether the pirates or whoever it was on the island had anyone who could hot-wire a boat, and decided against merely throwing the second set of keys overboard. It wouldn't take her very long sabotage the engine beyond repair, but a faster solution came to her and she whipped the loop of para-cord remaining from her bracelet off over her head. She lashed it quickly to the wheel and threw a quick bowline knot around the nearby railing. That would keep the rope taut and the boat heading in one direction.

Sarah got the engine started, slammed the throttle to the red-line and dove back onto the deck. She rolled to her feet and back into their getaway boat, sparing a brief glance to make sure she'd sent the other boat on a course that wouldn't circle around on them. Even if it did, they'd be long gone by then.

Satisfied with her handiwork in getting rid of the second boat, she turned and shouted for Chuck. "Make it snappy, guys! Let's go!"

"We're a little busy!" Bryce shouted.

"Now or never!"

"Chuck's making a bomb!"

"He's what?"

Chuck heard them yelling about him and raised his head. "I'm almost done!"

"Why are you making a bomb?" Sarah demanded.
"For the other boat!"

Sarah shook her head in exasperation and pointed out the empty berth across from the boat she was occupying. "It's taken care of, come on!"

"But I was almost done..." Chuck said, dispiritedly as he finished attaching his wristwatch to the two pounds of C4. He'd already set the time and everything.

Bryce was close enough to hear and shrugged. "Leave it, we've gotta boat to catch." His old friend grabbed his shoulder and Chuck's thumb slipped. His watch beeped from it's position embedded in the block of C4 near the detonator.

"Oh crap..."

"Is that thing armed?"

"It's not not armed."

"Come on!" Bryce slapped the explosives out of Chuck's hand and dragged him by the shirt out of the Jeep toward Sarah and the getaway boat.

The sound of distant gunfire brought Bryce to a stop, as he turned and sent return fire. Far away, Chuck heard a man scream in pain. Bryce was only a second behind Chuck into the boat. "Alright hit it!"

The sound of the engine struggling and failing to turn over brought everything into sudden focus. Sarah turned and grimaced. "About that... I think we should have taken the other boat."

Bryce winced and turned to Chuck. "How long until that bomb goes off?"

Sarah's eyes widened. Chuck shrugged. "Thirty seconds... ish."

"But we should be fine," she said. "It's far enough away we won't..."

Bryce held up his hand and waved it in the universal symbol of wishy-washyness. "With the Jeep's fuel tank in the mix? Anybody's guess, really," he said.

Sarah turned back to the controls. "Start you stupid son of a bitch!" She turned the key again and cursed when it didn't start a second time. She had to wait a couple seconds or risk flooding the engine. Sarah punched the seat next to her. Then she tried a different tactic; she leaned forward over the dash and stroked the weather-beaten wood panelling like a pet. "Please start this time? I'll love you forever and ever..." She'd done everything right, the boat was in perfect working order it was just... Murphy's law. Anything that could go wrong would go wrong. And so by the Jack Walker corollary: when everything went wrong, anything was worth trying. "Come on, please... I'll get you a nice new paint-job and everything. Maybe some flames, anything you want..." Sarah cooed to the engine and she turned the key again. Gently... oh so gently.

The marine diesel roared to life and she let out a whoop of triumph, practically standing on the throttle.

Their boat lurched suddenly into motion and Bryce clapped Chuck on the back happily, before turning and opening up again with his AK. Chuck joined in, for lack of anything better to do, but he wasn't really aiming so much as he was letting some of the tension bleed away. He stopped after ten rounds or so. And saw the extent of their pursuit for the first time.

Half a dozen men with AKs were taking cover behind the second Jeep Bryce had mentioned. The distance between them was a hundred yards or more and growing rapidly. Muzzle flares puncuated the sound of automatic fire. It wasn't very well aimed, but there was a lot of it.

"Sarah get down!" Chuck shouted, cramming himself down into the dubious safety of the passenger compartment.

Bullet impacts in the rear quarter of the boat, followed by splashes aft didn't exactly reassure him, but then, he wasn't dead. And the gunfire and the splashes trailed off after a moment.

"We made it," Chuck sighed, when Sarah turned and grinned at him, unhurt.

"Not yet we haven't," Bryce growled. Sarah's eyes widened suddenly, just as his shout ripped the air. "RPG! RPG! Hard right!"

Chuck spun and peeked his head over the side, watching the rocket-propelled grenade in horror. The boat lurched and tilted crazily as Sarah spun the wheel hard-over right. He lost his balance and nearly pitched out into the ocean before Bryce grabbed him around the waist and hauled him back down.

The RPG left an oddly lopsided corkscrew of a smoke trail behind it as it skimmed over the side of the boat and a hundred yards past them before it splashed harmlessly into the water.

Chuck gasped for breath. Behind them, on the dock, the man with the RPG was reloading. The odds of them dodging a second one of those probably weren't very good.

The RPG man shouldered his weapon and took aim. Bryce opened his mouth to shout warning to Sarah for more evasive action.

The C4 took the Jeep up in a fireball, shrapnel scything Rocket-launcher-man down just as he fired. The second RPG went wild, and hit the end of the dock before exploding.

Chuck's mouth moved without his conscious control. "Okay," he said. "Nowwe made it. Right?"

"Yeah," Bryce said. "Yeah, I think so."

"Good," Sarah said, turning to glare at him. "Now you want to explain what the hellis going on?"

Bryce grimaced. "It's classified."

Sarah's glare didn't think that was good enough. "I can always turn this boat around, Mister."

He shook his head. "No, I'm serious. Like above top secret. There's this whole long talk they give you when you start."
"At the CIA," it wasn't really a question from Chuck's lips, but he still needed the last bit of confirmation.

He sighed. "Yes."

"I think we have a right to know."

"The CIA disagrees."

Chuck grimaced. "Okay how about this. I think we have a needto know. Sarah and I put our lives on the line to get that damn case and-"

Bryce rounded on Chuck, grinning at an unexpected turn. "You've got the case? That's great, that-"

"Here's the thing. Remember those pirates I told you about?"

"No..." Bryce groaned. "You let pirates take it? In this day and age?"

"Wasn't much 'let' to it," Sarah said. "And we did kill four of the bastards. If we're going to help get it back, we deserve to know why."

"You want to help get it back?" Bryce was taken aback.

Chuck was mulling that over as well. Strictly speaking, he could hop a plane back to Burbank and forget about everything. He could go back to his job, and just- He grimaced and shook his head. He couldn't just walk away. Sarah's boat, her livelihood, was at the bottom of the sea, and she had just told him how he was her boyfriend now. What kind of jerk would he be to just abandon her? But that was only part of it, and maybe not even the biggest part. He had fought for this, killed more than once, and a large part of him was shouting to be heard over his more cowardly objections. Go home now and you'll never know what any of this was about. You'll have killed two men, for no end other than your own survival. For some people that would be enough.

"No, Chuck said. He spotted Sarah's expression darken. "I don't want to help. I have to. But first, you owe us an explanation. And Bryce? Start from the top."

"The top?"

"Stanford."

Bryce grimaced. "Right," he said unenthusiastically. "The top."

Bryce was quiet long enough that Chuck turned to Sarah. "Okay, let's turn around and leave him for the pirates."

He shook his head. "They're not pirates, don't be ridiculous. They're... damn it. At this point, I should advise you that what I'm about to tell you falls under 18 United States Code section 793, and if you breathe a word of this to anyone, you'll be tried for treason and incarcerated for the rest of your natural life. Or executed if you get a cranky judge that day. Understand. This is serious business."

"Got it," Sarah said.

"You too, Chuck."

"Okay, loose lips sink ships. I know the deal."

"Right. So, from the top. Remember professor Fleming at Stanford? He was my first CIA contact. Pulled the strings to get us to that CIA camp summer of sophomore year."

"Wait, that was a CIA camp?"

"Yeah, you didn't think they let you play around with that predator drone just cause you gave them the Bartowski eyebrow dance did you?" Sarah's jaw dropped and Chuck shrugged sheepishly. "Not important. The point is, he wanted to recruit you too, when your scores on that image retention test came back so high."

"That doesn't make any sense, Bryce. You didn't think maybe I'd want to join the CIA too?"

"It wasn't just the CIA." Bryce said. "I really shouldn't tell you this part, but... he wanted to try to upload data into your brain. I stole a look at his notes, and they were projecting a 30% chance it would turn you into a vegetable. I didn't trust them to let you make an informed decision."

"So you framed me for cheating?"

"It was the only thing I could think of at the time. But you caught me, and I was going to come clean about the whole thing when I stopped by after graduation, but..."

"But I confronted you about Jill and broke your nose."

"And the CIA didn't want somebody with that kind of instability in their pilot program. I figured it all worked out for the best."

Chuck glared at his former friend and shook his head. "This doesn't change anything. You should have let me make the choice myself, don't you think?"

"I'm sorry, alright? Is that what you want me to say? I'm sorry."

Chuck grunted. "It's a start. Now, what happened this week? Why send me those coordinates?"

"Chuck came before CIA in the autocorrect form on my satphone. I didn't have time to go back and hit the right contact. I figured you'd unlock the coordinates eventually."

"Wait, you had the Zork file ready to go?"

"It was my cover protocol on this mission. My communications were disguised in Zork files like we used to exchange at Stanford. I thought when you found those coordinates you'd give them to the police, and they'd eventually get flagged by CIA and they'd find the case in a couple of weeks," Bryce shook his head. "Why the hell aren't you back in Burbank? I never expected a damn rescue mission."

"Wait, then..." Sarah said. "They were taking you out to execute you."

"Exactly," Bryce said. "That was the plan. I feed them false intel until they get tired of torturing me and dump me in a shallow grave."

"That's not a good plan, Bryce. That's a bad plan. Probably the worst plan I think I've ever heard," Chuck said. "And some of Sarah's plans involved blowing up boats with us still on them."

Sarah stuck out her tongue at him.

"I couldn't risk what's in that case falling into the wrong hands. It's that important. But now pirates have the case," he shook his head at that development and tried to look for the silver lining. "At least they can't open it."

"You were willing to die over this?"

Bryce merely shrugged. "It's the job."

Chuck was speechless for a while. Then, he grimaced. "Why were you on a Roark Instruments flight? What's in that case that's so important?"

"The machine Fleming wanted to use to upload that crap into your head. It's almost finished. We contracted out all the components to different companies, RI was just one of many. Nobody really knows what any of the components are for, except Roark must have found out. The last piece of the machine is what's in the case. It's called the Cypher. His man on the flight from the fabrication plant tried to pull a gun on me. I killed him and the pilot, and radio-ed in a phony distress call, grabbed the case before I parachuted out."

"And the boat full of dead bodies?" Sarah asked.

"They were more Fulcrum goons -rogue spies- who came to pick me up a couple hours later. I over-powered one of them and shot the rest, then scuttled the boat. I left the case on the boat figuring they'd have backup on the way. They did, and the backup boat brought me to the island.

I sent the email just before I scuttled the boat. That was three days ago. When did you get to... the Philippines are closest, right?"

"Wait, wait. That would mean your plane didn't go down until... after Roark sent me out here to find the plane crash."

"I thought he gave you the coordinates before you left?" Sarah said.

"No, that day it was just the specs on the R7. He didn't email me the coordinates of the plane crash until I was at the airport the next morning."

"Jesus," Sarah muttered. "Rogue spies? This just gets better and better."

"I think before I messed up their plans, they were going to land the plane back on the island and offload the cy- the case before making me disappear and crashing the plane to cover it up. There," Bryce said. "Mystery solved. Your turn. Explain about the pirates."

Chuck shrugged. "One of them was Sarah's ex. There's a whole big thing about money laundering involved."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "He wasn't my ex. He was never my boyfriend."

"You and labels. I've known you four days and I'm your boyfriend. You must've known him for months and-"

Sarah's eyes glittered. "He was never my boyfriend." There was a subtle change in emphasis on it that Chuck didn't quite-oh. She blushed and turned back to steer, making sure they were heading on a proper course back to Manila harbor.

That put a damper on conversation, and when Bryce opened his mouth to demand more information, Chuck shook his head. Bryce darted his eyes at Sarah's back and nodded. The silence stretched out for hours until Sarah pulled the bullet-riddled but thankfully still mechanically-sound boat into the berth Lisa'sRevenge had occupied until a couple days earlier.

"Hey!" An elderly Filipino gent wearing only a pair of swim-turnks shouted from the dock. "You can't tie up here. Is reserved for the Walker Marine Salvage co- Miss Sarah! Where is the big boat?"

Sarah winced and tossed him one of the truncated lines. "Long story, Mr. Panganiban."

The old man gave Bryce and Chuck a quick once over, including a steely-eyed glare which Chuck figured was intended protectively. Chuck grinned. "That means she blew it up."

Mr. Panganiban blinked and looked to Sarah for confirmation. She glared at Chuck briefly and sighed and nodded to the dockmaster. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

He nodded sagely. "It always does," he said showing gold teeth in a grin. "I know from experience." Chuck looked at the man more closely, and recognized what might have been a bullet scar on the man's chest, white where the rest of him was dark.

Mr. Panganiban spotted the moment of recognition and his grin widened. "Careful you don't get one to match, eh?"

Chuck agreed fervently and the man walked off to check on something else in the marina. Bryce breathed sigh of relief. "You have someplace we can stash the guns? An apartment or something?"

She glared at Bryce. "I lived on the boat we sank trying to get away from the pirates who were after your sunken treasure. All I've got left is my Jeep."

"Good lord, not another Jeep," Bryce muttered.

"I'll take care of it," Chuck said. "I might as well take Roark for all my expense account is still good for before he gets popped for treason, right? We can buy some suitcases or something to hide the guns in, and Teddy can spring for a room for Bryce."

They had to clean out the back of Sarah's Jeep for Bryce to sit in, and by the time they had driven to a sporting goods store and back to load the guns and then all the way over to Chuck's hotel, Bryce was moving like he was nintey-seven instead of twenty-seven.

They went into the lobby seperately, with Bryce lagging behind to check in at Chuck's hotel under an assumed name, while Chuck and Sarah headed up to offload the guns. It was a little surreal being back in civilization, being jostled around by so many people, barely surviving Sarah's driving in the packed Manila streets. It was mid-afternoon. He had to check the clock-radio in his room for the time, after he had sacrificed his watch back on the island, only hours ago.

Sarah sat down on the bed and sighed happily. After a moment she scooted up to lie down.

Chuck sat next to her. "Okay," he said. "Now we need to have that talk."

She winced. "Really? Can't we just not think about it for a couple weeks and just be?"

"We were in imminent danger of death back then," he said. "Now we're back in the world, we have to talk about where we go from here."

She rolled onto her side and curled her legs up, chin in her palm propped up on an elbow. "I need a shower. Can it wait until after?"

Chuck sighed. "I suppose so," he said and turned to grab the remote.

Sarah sat back up and frowned at his posture, leaning back to watch TV while she showered.

"God, how dense are you?"

"What?"

"Don't you need a shower too?" She arched an eyebrow pointedly.

"Oh," Chuck said and grinned sheepishly. "Um... yes. I guess I do."

Sarah shook her head and snorted. "You guess," she rolled her eyes and seized his wrist, dragging him after her toward the shower.

This time, one thing didn't lead to another. They made love, which was an unexpected development for both of them.

TO BE CONTINUED...

A/N: So, barring unforeseen story-bloat, we're down to only two chapters left. Yes. Two.

What ever you do, don't leave a review. (Maybe reverse psychology will work. Oh. I shouldn't have said that out loud. Or this. Damn, I'm bad at this.)