Even though I don't like being referred to as a "womaniser" (because technically, it wasn't really true), I won't deny that I'm not the most monogamous person in the world. Considering my profession, life was probably too short for that. And again, I'm the kind person who takes advantage of an opportunity when the right one presents itself.

So – the smell of being in a stable aside – I was glad I took advantage of this one.

Though, while we didn't actually have sex, I can't say that having sex with Greg was something I wasn't looking forward to because it had already become part of my mindset; especially as he wasn't really opposed to the idea. Unfortunately, it would have to wait until another time because not only did I have to somehow prevent Brass from contaminating the entire city of Houston's water supply, Greg and I simply didn't have the...right supplies at the moment.

While I was trying to unbutton his shirt, I actually did suggest making use of whatever it was I saw in a small bottle in the corner earlier (I wasn't too coherent at the time to remember exactly), but that seemed to be the wrong thing to say. And no sooner had I been ready to unzip his pants did Greg snap out of his temporary haze and forcefully pushed me off of him.

How was I supposed to know it was horse shampoo?

Though, I made a mental note to be better prepared next time Greg and I found ourselves in that kind of situation again.

After straightening our clothes, I was able to give him the homing device that was surprisingly still on the bottom of my shoe. I did manage to convince him to infringe on Brass' plans after all; exchanging the copper sulphate with something that wasn't harmful. And he assured me that he would contact the CIA; using the homing device to help them more easily pinpoint our location. When we left the stables, he returned me to my cell and left me with the same guard I had earlier.

That was nearly ten hours ago and I hadn't seen Greg since.

And right now, I would rather be with him than sharing the bed of a truck with Vartann. I bit my lip when the Jeep jerked, the other man making a grunt beside me. Almost dawn, it was too dark to actually see him, but knowing he was there was more than enough for me not to like the situation. I was taken from my cell a little under an hour ago and was forced into a truck heading away from Brass' estate and following a dirt road toward, what I assumed, was the water supply plant in Houston. There were a few more vehicles in front of the one I was in: another truck, a car, and an ambulance that was leading the group.

I really couldn't come up with a reason as to how Brass even managed to get his hands on an ambulance. He had a habit of killing people rather than injuring them and I had a feeling it wasn't there just to transport dead bodies.

The Jeep suddenly came to a stop, and without a seatbelt I had to hold on to the bed to make sure I didn't fall forward. Looking outside, I noticed we stopped next to a large sign propped against a tall, metal fence. I had to squint in order to make out the words in the dim light.

Houston Water Supply

So, I was right. The only problem was that there was more than one water supply plant in Houston, but I had faith Greg would pull though and direct the IC in Texas to the right one. Since, really, that's all I had right about now.

Suddenly, I heard a couple of doors opening and when Vartann didn't move, I forced myself not to get out of the truck when I also detected footsteps on the dirt ground. There were some grunts and it sounded like whoever was out there was carrying something heavy. A few more seconds passed and I cringed when I heard a loud explosion, almost brushing shoulders against Vartann before quickly moving back to the other side of the truck.

I was guessing that they were trying to open a gate of some kind and judging by the creak that followed, I was also guessing that they'd opened said gate.

And if no one heard all of this noise by now, then it was safe to presume that there wasn't anyone in the plant, which was a good thing. But if someone was in the plant, then I would hope that they'd at least get hold of the authorities or something.

Caught by surprise, I almost fell when Vartann grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the Jeep. I managed not to stumble as I followed him around the truck, only to see Brass exiting the car in front of us. And I can't say I was too excited when I saw him pulling Greg along by the wrist.

Damn it.

I couldn't really tell what this meant, but when I saw the smirk on Brass' face as he dragged Greg to where Vartann and I stood, I was tempted to forgo optimism at this point. I tried to pass a concerned glance to Greg, but he was refusing to look at me, eyes fixed on the building behind him.

"Good morning, Mr. Stokes," Brass said cheerfully, unnaturally cheerfully for five in the morning. "For once you're exactly where I want you."

"And where's that, Brass?" I asked, though not expecting him to answer.

"Where I can see you."

I was going to reply when I noticed the doors from the back of the ambulance were opening. Turning my gaze from Brass, I watched as some of Brass' guards began lowering what looked like a cart carrying some kind of mechanical device; seemingly a small, rectangular box.

I was relieved when I noticed that it was silver in colour, which was undeniably one respite I could do with.

"It's interesting that even now I manage to get your attention, Mr. Stokes," Brass said, probably picking up on the thoughtful expression on my face.

"You know, I would be a lot more interested if you actually told me what this was," I said, pointing to the cart.

"And ruin the surprise?"

My mouth was set into a straight line as I waited for an answer, but it was Greg who spoke, finally turning to look at me. "It's an atomic bomb," he said calmly.

And just when I thought Brass couldn't surprise me anymore.

I sighed heavily. Not at the smirk Brass was giving me or even the fact that I was standing two feet away from a nuclear device. No, I just couldn't get over how resourceful Brass was...not that I meant it as a compliment, but I had to at least acknowledge his competence.

It was definitely a step up from the petty drug lords I was used to dealing with.

"At least you still have some use left," Brass said as he looked at Greg, tightening his grip on Greg's wrist.

I narrowed my eyes at Brass, wanting him to turn his attention back to me. "I thought you said you were just going to contaminate the water, not blow everyone away."

"Oh," Brass said, feigning astonishment. "Did I not mention that this was part of the plan all along?"

"Not really," I replied, even though I knew the question was rhetorical.

Brass gave me a twisted smile. "Call it a contingency plan, then. You know, in case the idea of copper poisoning doesn't quite make the statement I want."

"A contingency plan?" I asked. There had to be something more to it. Granted, I still didn't know what demands Brass was going to make, but why have the copper sulphate and the bomb for the same city, not to mention having them set up in the same water supply plant?

"Oh hell, why lie about it?" I stilled when Brass took a few steps closer to me, leaning down in my face to whisper, "Just between you and me, I'm doing it for the fun of it."

I clenched my jaw as he walked away, Greg in tow as he followed the guards moving the cart past the gates and entering into the plant. But Vartann and I weren't too far behind. I felt the other man yank at my arm as he began to pull me along. It didn't take long to catch up with Brass and I found myself fortunate enough to find a place beside Greg. Hopefully, he knew more than I did and considering I knew nothing right now, I would be extremely grateful for anything he had to say.

"I take it you didn't know about this until recently," I said to Greg as we went through the threshold leading into the plant. Brass still held onto his wrist, but he gave me a quick fleeting look that relayed he was as surprised as me; or at least he wasn't expecting this turn of events.

I wanted to ask him more, but as if he knew my intentions, Brass wrenched Greg forward, making him stagger for apparently no reason other than the fact that I was speaking to him.

And I couldn't help the frown making its way to my face.

It hadn't even been five minutes since Brass and Vartann left Greg and me alone in the plant and I was already beginning to feel more than just a little restless.

"What kind of water plant has a vaulted door?" I asked; fidgeting under the rope that was currently tying my hands to a poll connected to one of the small treatment installations in the plant. I spared a glance at the large, metal door that was currently the only exit in the building; doubling as the only entrance.

This definitely wasn't the time to be giving into possibility of me being claustrophobic.

"Apparently, the one we're in," Greg answered, once again struggling against his own restraints.

While I was happy he was speaking to me again, I had somehow forgotten how derisive he could be. Though, it did bother me that this side of him seemed to come out after he had a conversation with Brass...and that I was the one who was privileged enough to be on the other end of it.

But I guess I wouldn't be too ecstatic if I was handcuffed to a bomb, either.

"So..." I began slowly, "I'm guessing you're no longer Brass' personal consultant."

"Thanks for pointing out the obvious," Greg said as he leaned dejectedly against the cart. "You're as slow as Warrick said you would be."

"Wait..." I was ready to defend myself when I actually thought about what he said, forgetting about the fact that he called me slow for the time being. Confused, I looked at him curiously. "You know Warrick?"

"Warrick Brown." He nodded slowly at me. "Why do you think I put up with you, Mr. Stokes?"

"Because you can't help but feel attracted to me," I answered without hesitation.

He paused, a fleeting yet thoughtful look on his face before his expression straightened. "When I pretended to think you were James Bond; that was supposed to clue you in. Warrick said you didn't like being compared to him."

"What is that...a code word or something?" I said; my voice rising slightly. It was a fairly sensitive topic for me. "You're telling me that I was supposed to somehow have understood that you had connection to Warrick when you brought up somebody's name?" I asked sceptically.

"Don't tell me you didn't think it was at least a little weird that I even knew about James Bond?" He raised his eyebrows and looked at me shrewdly.

Never one to deny people, I wouldn't tell him that I didn't think it was strange that he knew about James Bond.

Admittedly, I was actually too upset at the time to actually look into it further. But in retrospect, it did make some kind of sense; especially since Brass seemed to think that Greg was no longer trustworthy.

"And you've been undercover this whole time?" I asked. "Well, until now at least."

"Brass wasn't too happy when he found out about what happened in the stables," he said, looking at me pointedly...like it was my fault, which I can actually say it wasn't for once...or at least it wasn't completely my fault for once.

It took two to tango and if those noises he made were anything to go by, he definitely wasn't complaining at the time.

However, I pushed the thought aside, trying not to take offence to what Greg was implying about me because I could understand that it was kind of hard to resist me. Not that I was being conceited, but I was basing this on experience.

"Did he know you were undercover?" I asked.

"Does it matter, now?"

I shrugged. "Voyeurism doesn't sound like his style."

Greg shook his head. "Vartann apparently heard us."

"You – he heard you, you mean," I corrected, pushing the thought of Vartann hearing us in the back of my mind. That wasn't an image that I needed to keep.

"Us," he said, still trying to wiggle his wrist through the handcuffs. I was going to try to correct him again, when he cut me off. "Anyway, it doesn't matter who he heard...it still doesn't take away from the fact that it's still disturbing."

I decided not to push the argument any further, silently agreeing with him. "Why didn't you tell me, then?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you were undercover."

"It was mostly because I didn't want to put more risk to myself with being discovered and partly because of you."

"Me?"

"I think you can figure out why."

There was a small moment of silence where I think he expected me to say something – judging by the way he was looking at me, anyway – but since I honestly couldn't, I took it upon myself to take the conversation in a different direction.

"So...who's Archie, then?"

Greg sighed softly, his shoulders sagging as continued to struggle with his restraints. "Shouldn't we be coming up with a way to get out of this?" he said as he extended his arm toward me, reiterating the fact that he was currently attached to a bomb. Not to mention one he wasn't able to turn around and see it.

I raised my eyebrows at him. Personally, I wasn't in that much of a rush considering that Brass left us alone with a bomb that wasn't even activated yet. And contrary to what Greg may have thought, I was actually trying to undo the knots in the rope that was confining me to the poll.

"Something better to do than ask about me?" he asked.

"Actually, there is something I would like to do, but as...appealing as you look handcuffed..." I said, ignoring the look he sent my way, "to a bomb, we're too far away for what I have in mind. And we've already been sitting here for almost an hour. So, unless you have any better ideas-"

"Archie is my partner," he said quickly.

"Partner?" I asked, not sure to what extent Greg meant by the word.

"He's my friend and the one who's going to kill me if we make it out of here alive." He groaned as he closed his eyes, apparently not too happy with the idea of barely escaping death only to face it against at the hands of a friend.

I knew I wouldn't be.

"Aren't you going to ask me a question?"

"I'm afraid of the answer you might give me."

"You want to know if I'm single, don't you?" I said playfully, enjoying the stunned expression on Greg's face when the other man finally opened his eyes.

I had to pass the time somehow.

But it didn't take him long to recover, seemingly picking up on what I was doing. "If I say yes, will you tell me that you're almost done trying to get out of that rope?"

"If I say yes, will you let me kiss you again?"

"Mr. Stokes, I-"

"Nick," I interrupted, somehow figuring that if these moments holed up in a water plant were my last, I at least wanted Greg to say my name one more time, outside of a sexual context at least.

"Mr. Stokes," he said again, his tone firm and something I wasn't paying much attention to until I heard someone coughing behind me.

I turned around – well, as much I could, anyway – only to see Brass. And of course, Vartann was right behind him.

"Oh, I hope I wasn't interrupting your conversation, Mr. Stokes," Brass said disdainfully and I wondered just how much of my conversation with Greg he heard. "You'll have to forgive me if I did."

"Then, you'll have to forgive me for not noticing you," I said, not able to hide my own disdain as Brass moved toward Greg; kneeling beside him and making sure they were at eye level. Brass had his backed turned to me, but I only needed to see Greg's expression.

"It really is a shame, you know," Brass said, and I bit back a retort as he took hold of Greg's chin, his other hand flat against the control panel of the bomb and next to Greg's head. "I could have made you into something."

Greg jerked his head away from him, causing Brass to laugh as he stood up, Vartann moving to stand beside him as they made their way towards me. Greg eyes widened, quickly darting between me and the bomb behind him. But it wasn't until Brass spoke that I realised why he even bothered to put himself so close to Greg in the first place.

A look of understanding came across my face.

Brass just activated the bomb.

"Ten minutes," Brass said as he read my expression. He paused thoughtfully. "Well, technically, it's nine minutes and a little over thirty seconds, but who's counting?" A small laugh escaped him, but this time I didn't appreciate his attempt at humour.

"Goodbye, Mr. Stokes," he said mockingly, giving me a slight bow with his head before turning to Greg. "...Pussy."

I saw Greg narrow his eyes; a flicker of anger in them and I could imagine the retort on the tip of his tongue. But before he had the chance to open his mouth, he was cut off by the sound of gunfire coming from the outside.

"Shit," Brass said crossly, clenching his fists as he began to run to the door. Vartann took a quick look in Greg's direction before taking off after Brass, who was evidently quick to forget about his right hand man. He went through the door without looking back, slamming it in Vartann's face and only leaving the resonant sound of it locking behind him.

The only thing keeping me from getting a smug sense of satisfaction at the thought of Brass leaving Vartann was the fact that Greg and I were stuck with the bomb, too. But I pushed away the thought after finally managing to release the knots in the rope and free my hands.

My first thought was to look to Greg because he was the one by the bomb. At this point, I knew even if I did manage to get Greg away from it, we'd still probably be caught in the explosion. And not to mention that even if I could escape, I couldn't just leave knowing that there were innocent people would die if I didn't at least try to do something.

But thoughts of disarming the bomb were put on hold when I remembered that Vartann was trapped in here, too, and apparently coming toward me. He looked at me menacingly, rubbing his brass knuckles together and I couldn't help but wonder why he was willing to put his life on the line for a man who couldn't care less if he was dead or alive.

Unfortunately, I had nothing to fight with and wasn't sure how much I could manoeuvre when I was surrounded by little pools of rushing water and backed into a corner. Vartann took another step forward; smirk yet to go away when suddenly he tripped. And then I noticed Greg pulling his leg closer to his body, a small smile forming on my lips as I made use of Vartann's temporary distraction.

Wading through the narrow walkways, I made my way behind Vartann. Not waiting until he was fully standing, I meant to punch him in the face, but ended up hitting him in the back of the head when he turned around. My face contorted in pain, I backed away when I realised it actually wasn't doing much to deter him and left me with a sore hand instead.

There's no way he had a metal – and I wasn't going to admit what kind of metal I thought it was – plate in his head.

Some part of me wondered if that was some kind of elaborate ploy he and Brass intended because it distracted me enough to let him hit me in the stomach and causing my back to make contact with a concrete wall.

But through my daze, I heard Greg call out my name. And though I felt more than a little dizzy, I could honestly say that the fact that Greg called my name while not in the middle of my attempt to have sex with him made me slightly more attentive. And while the thoughts beginning to run through my head were past the level of completely inappropriate, I was able to duck, quickly moving my body to the ground as Vartann took another swing; this time his fist hitting the wall where I once stood.

I rolled over, narrowly missing falling into the one of the pools of water before I scrambled to my feet, Vartann recuperating quickly and making his way towards me again; a snarl on his face. I had to think of something to disable him or at least get him out of the way for the time being. We probably had four minutes, give or take, before the bomb was supposed to go off and I didn't have time to waste with Vartann.

I grounded myself as he began to run at me, hoping to take a page out of Greg's book and use Vartann's own weight against him when Vartann and I made contact. I caught his arms when he tried to hit me, his brass knuckles barely missing my face and I grunted as I wrestled to keep him from pushing me over. I gritted my teeth when I was beginning to get some leeway, forcing him to take a few step backs until he was at the edge of one of the pools.

He gasped quietly, taking notice of his position and renewing his efforts to throw me off, narrowing his eyes at me and the fact that I wasn't going to be giving up just yet. I was counting down silently in my head and I was guessing that we probably had less than two minutes...if even that.

I grunted when I heard the sound of Greg rattling his handcuffs in the background; giving a final shove and pushing Vartann into the water. There was a small splash, the sound of the other man hitting the water, followed by a dulled thump as his head hit some kind of metal bar.

Ignoring the feeling of déjà vu, I took a moment to catch my breath, heart racing when I made way across the room to the bomb and fell to my knees beside Greg, who was still struggling to get of the cuffs.

"Damn it." I opened the control panel quickly, looking for some clue as to how to stop the detonation and trying not to be pessimistic when I looked down into a set of colourful wires. I felt an arm around my shoulder, sparing a glance to my right to see Greg beside me.

"How'd you get out?"

"I have skinny wrists," he said, and my hand hovered above a red wire as I paused to give him a strange look. "Never mind," he said, shaking his head. "Do you know how to disarm this thing?"

"Not really," I said, not able to ignore the slight panic that was creeping upon me.

"Not really?"

"I'm working on it, all right," I gritted out as my poised my hand over a green wire.

"Thirty seconds."

I felt Greg's quickened breath against my cheek, warm and oddly comforting considering that we were probably going to die pretty soon.

"Twenty-five seconds."

I stared at the timer in morbid fascination. Greg's grip on my shirt tightening as my eyes transfixed on the large numbers continuing to descend, the seconds ticking away faster with the change of each millisecond.

"Twenty seconds."

Desperate and out of options, I extend my hand to pull out the yellow wire when someone came from behind. Greg and I were pushed to the side as the person reached inside the bomb to flip a switch, the action effectively disarming the bomb and causing the timer to stop at 018 seconds.

For a moment, I felt boneless, practically lifeless and couldn't really bring myself to care about the irony about where the timer stopped.

Greg released a sigh in relief as he rested his weight against me; his head in the crook of my neck as he turned away from Archie. "Took you long enough," he said, his voice somewhat muffled as he spoke through the fabric of my shirt.

"If that's the gratitude I get, I shouldn't have even bothered to come."

It felt really – and I mean really – good to be in a new suit after having not showered or even changed for a day. Though, it wasn't really much of a respite since I shortly found myself in a hangar for the second time in three days. But at least I was being allowed to get some kind of sleep.

And though in actuality it was only three hours of sleep, it was three hours of sleep I didn't have before. So, I didn't really complain when Warrick called me two in afternoon and told me to leave my hotel room. It also helped that I knew Greg was going to be there, too, and given that we separated not too long after Archie found us in the plant, I was looking forward to seeing him, again.

I put my hand over my eyes, trying to shield myself from the sun as I walked into the hangar and towards two figures standing in a corner. I recognised Warrick immediately, standing next to a woman with long blonde that he'd introduced me to earlier this morning as Sofia Curtis.

It turned out that she was a detective hired by Ecklie to follow Brass when I went missing; the local authorities then becoming more interested in what Brass was up to. She and Warrick teamed up to search for me, Archie eventually joining and leading them to where Greg and I were in Houston – thanks to the homing device I gave Greg.

I really had to thank R next time I saw him...if I ever worked up the nerve to tell him I lost another car.

"About time," Warrick greeted me as Sofia nodded her head in my direction.

"Hey to you, too," I said sarcastically. I caught a glimpse of Greg and Archie from the corner of my eye, standing on the other side of the hangar. I turned back to Warrick and Sofia. "Where's Brass?" I asked, hoping he hadn't gotten away.

"No sign of him," Sofia answered.

I sighed in disappointment. "He got away?"

"For now, at least," she said, "but that doesn't mean we won't find him."

"He's going to be on every wanted list out there," Warrick added. "And I doubt he'll be able to hide for too long unless he tried to get out of the country. And considering his background as a cop..."

"Let's just say he made a lot of enemies," Sofia finished, crossing her arms and looking at me with determination on her face. It was easy to tell that the whole ordeal with Brass bothered her, especially she since actually worked with the police and his actions were extremely detrimental to the force.

"That doesn't do anything to make me feel better," I said, despite the confidence Warrick and Sofia had. The idea that I might run into Brass in the future really wasn't that appealing. And while he would probably lay low for a while because of recent events, I had a feeling being wanted by the Feds wasn't going to slow him down any time soon.

"Well, I do have good news," Warrick said. "Depending how you look at it," he added as an afterthought.

"I thought no news was good news?"

"The president wants to thank you," Warrick said, ignoring my comment.

"The president?" There was a hint of excitement in my voice. "Really?"

"Of the Houston city council," he clarified.

"Oh..." My shoulders sagged. "I risk my life to stop Houston from getting blown up and I couldn't even get something from the governor?" I asked, trying not to sound petulant. "What's the plane for, then?"

"He's in Dallas with the governor," Warrick answered.

"Coincidence?"

"Probably."

"And Greg is going with you," Sofia said, gesturing her head to where Greg and Archie were standing.

"He is?"

"Yeah, he was the one shadowing Brass the past six months," Warrick said, "passing information about what Brass was doing to us."

"We weren't worried about the copper sulphate. Greg had that taken care of," Sofia added. "But we were surprised about the nuclear device."

"He didn't tell me that," I said, surprised about hearing the how much Greg was actually involved and surprised that he could tolerate Brass for such a long time; if what I saw of the way Brass was treating him was something Greg had to contend with for those six months. "I wonder why-"

There was a familiar cry of pain and I cringed when I turned around to see Archie hit Greg on the back of the head, yelling at him in another language I wasn't going to pretend to know. Some part of me was curious to know what was going on and another part of me was more partial to the idea self-preservation; having a feeling that if I did interfere, Archie wouldn't be too nice about it.

Because even though he did save my life, something told me that it was more about the lives at stake and maybe to an extent because Greg was in the in danger, too. Otherwise – agent or not – I doubted that he would any qualms about leaving me to myself.

Catching me starting, Archie turned to look at me sharply, his eyes narrowing and I quickly refocused my attention on Warrick and Sofia.

"Does that mean Archie's coming, too?"

"What was that thing with Archie about?" I asked Greg intently. Fortunately, Archie wasn't on the plane with us, but it didn't stop me from bringing him up in the conversation. He and Greg seemed pretty close and I was hoping that he wouldn't become an obstacle between Greg and me, or at least wouldn't try to dissuade Greg against me.

I was coming prepared this time and I was kind of planning to take a detour to the city after meeting with the governor and the city council president.

And Warrick was even nice enough to reserve a hotel room for me – maybe Greg, too – ahead of time.

"...you saw it?" Greg asked sheepishly.

"Yeah, well, it was kind of hard to miss."

Greg leaned forward in his seat, resting his hands on his knees as he shrugged his shoulders. "He was just being Archie – meaning he threatened to kill me if I risked my life like that, again; especially if it involved you."

I tried to look offended, but the smile on his face took the sting out of his words. "Should I be insulted?"

"Only if you think you should be," he retorted.

There was a brief moment of silence before we both started laughing, the sound fading into dulled roar of the plane's engines as I stared at him for a little bit longer.

"So...what are you planning to do after this?" I asked as I leaned back into my chair. A surprisingly large part of me was hoping his plans had something to do with me.

He shrugged his shoulders, turning toward the window as he rested his head on his hand. "Go back to work behind the scenes. I'm not sure if I'm cut out for fieldwork, but I managed to use my background to get the chance to at least try it. You know, since no one thought trailing Brass would actually lead to anything."

"Then you really are a chemist?"

"Yep." He nodded at me. "I do have some basic field training, though."

"And they actually let you go undercover?" I asked jokingly, but not bringing up what Warrick told me earlier.

"With some persuasion on my part," he said, smiling brightly at me.

I snorted. "I don't doubt that."

"What about you?" he asked.

"Hmm?"

"Where are you going after this?"

"Hopefully on a real vacation," I answered, but taking in account how my last attempt to go on a vacation ended up, I wasn't really sure. Then again, I might not have met Greg otherwise. "Somewhere isolated from-"

"Um..." he interrupted, looking at me curiously before turning back to look outside the window. "Why are we flying over the Gulf of Mexico?"

"Huh?" I quickly sat up in my chair, following Greg's line of vision out the window to see that we were in fact flying over a large, seemingly endless body of water. And since the closet body of water to Houston was in fact the Gulf of Mexico, I used the process of elimination.

Words were on the tip of my tongue but already forgotten when another voice interrupted me. And I couldn't help but sigh when I realised it was Brass...again. This time, I wasn't even bothered to wonder how he boarded the plane in the first plane.

But it figures the first chance I had to relax in almost two weeks that something would come up.

"Not you, again," I said, not able to stop the groan that escaped me. If this was how he felt when I first began following him, I could now understand his frustrations in regards of the same person showing up wherever I go. And while I knew and accepted that he'd gotten away, I didn't think he'd be eager to make another appearance so soon.

But by this time I was pretty tired of this man and his unhealthy obsession with his last name, so I refrained from saying anything about the brass revolver he was holding in hand. Though, it was more or less because he was waving a gun around in a plane. That could also have something to do with it.

Just maybe.

"Stand up," Brass said, all traces of the calm he used to have around me no longer in his voice. He pointed the gun at me and then to Greg, who was closer to Brass than I was.

I stood up slowly, trying not to startle Brass. Greg was standing cautiously, as well, eyes never leaving the other man.

"I really can't get rid of you, can I, Mr. Stokes?" he said irritably, the gun in his grasp beginning to shake out of anger.

"They say the third time's the charm," I said, "but I'm not so sure about the fourth and fifth."

Brass smirked. "Then think of this as the final rendezvous between us."

I inwardly snorted, knowing better than to believe in an empty promise like that. The man was giving me false hope.

"Are you having dinner with the governor, too?" I asked; trying to distract Brass...or anger him further; something that would encourage him to make a mistake.

Brass growled at me before reaching out his arm to wrap around Greg's neck. I became tense when he put the revolver against Greg's cheek, cocking the hammer, the end of the barrel pressing into this skin. "In a few hours, I'll be in Cuba." He tightened his hold around Greg. "And this time will the last time you interfere with my plans, Mr. Stokes."

"As long as you don't plan on taking Greg with you," I said calmly.

Brass sneered at me before looking at Greg. "I should have known you were too pretty to be a crook."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Greg asked resentfully, giving me the chance I needed to try to talk some sense into Brass. Personally, I thought it was pointless, but it never hurt to try.

"You know that, uh...shooting that," I said as my eyes darted to the gun in his hand, "won't work out too well while we're in a plane. Something about explosives and depressurisation – right, Greg?"

"Chemistry is more my forte..." he said unhelpfully.

Brass snarled at the answer, apparently not pleased as he shoved Greg to the side. While Greg landed on a chair, I quickly made my way to Brass, placing my hands around his arm as I tried to take the gun away from him. Clenching my teeth, I noticed Greg standing back up, ready to tackle Brass from behind. He looked at me before he actually did anything. I managed to grunt out something I assumed sounded something along the lines of "not yet". I tried to gauge the situation because Brass' finger was precariously close to pulling the trigger and I wasn't sure if Greg surprising him would cause Brass to set the gun off.

But the decision was made for me when a bang sounded throughout the cabin, the bullet from gun going through one of the windows...a relatively large window.

I was taken by surprise when the plane took a sudden dip, air whipping around my face while everything not reinforced to the floor of the plane began flying around or at least was trying to go through the window; including Brass, Greg, and me. And while I knew that something like this could happen, it didn't mean that I experienced it before and wasn't necessarily prepared.

Holding on tightly to the armrest of a chair, I kneeled down against it as I looked to see Greg huddled behind a chair closest to the cockpit and furthest away from the open window. Brass was attempting to hold on to the cushion of a chair, his legs failing though the air; yelling as his grip starting to slip. Really, I couldn't say that I wouldn't have like to help him, but I couldn't risk being sucked in, as well.

But Greg was on the plane and I had him to think about.

Brass looked at me briefly his eyes pleading with me before he was finally forced to let go, screams disappearing into the atmosphere as his body flew through the window. I flinched when I saw his head hit one of the wings, barely able hear a clunk through the wind after he disappeared below the plane.

I was beginning to see a pattern here.

I nearly jumped when a felt a hand holding my wrist securely, looking up to see that Greg had somehow managed to make his way beside me. He manoeuvred us through the aisle, motioning for me to keep my head low as we entered the cockpit, where the air pressure didn't affect us as much.

He stood up quickly, letting go of my hand as he moved into the pilot's seat. I glanced around the area to see that it was empty and realised that Brass must have been the one flying the plane. Though, how he learned to pilot one – no, it wasn't really the time to be thinking about that, anyway.

But it didn't stop me from having to push certain thoughts to the side when I stood behind Greg, watching as he grasped the control stick with both hands, knuckles turning white. I mean, I know that the plane is plunging to the ground, but at least if I died, I would have died a somewhat satiated man.

Though, common sense was starting to come back as the fact that Greg was trying pilot a plane finally hit me. "What are you doing?" I asked frantically. From the looks of things, it didn't seem like he had too much experience with flying at all.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he asked in annoyance, grunting as the plane titled to the side, almost causing me to fall to the floor.

"You don't even know how to fly a plane," I accused as I watched the air pressure gauge. It was continuing to rise as we continued to fall; registering twenty out of thirty. The altimeter next to it read two thousand feet fall and was still dropping rapidly. And while I admit I really didn't know how to fly a plane, either, I decided to emulate Greg because doing something was better than doing nothing.

Without hesitation, I wrapped my arms around him, my hands covering his as I tried to help him steady the stick; both of us attempting to pull it back. We were getting closer and closer to the water's surface and I didn't know what else to do.

"Doesn't mean I can't learn if it's a life or death situation," he said tersely. "I used to read about this stuff in books and it looked simple in theory."

"But what about in practice?"

I sighed contently as I watched the helicopter pass overhead; probably Warrick searching for us. I didn't doubt that he figured out what happened and he was now circling the area where the plane crashed into the water.

And as much I wanted to be rescued, I found being stranded on a small tropical island wasn't really that bad at all...actually, it was really nice.

I just needed to convince Greg of that, too.

I watched as he stood up quickly, almost tripping over the parachute as he began to take his white t-shirt off. And I would have been even more grateful for the view if he didn't start waving said t-shirt at the helicopter that came back around to circle the island for a second time.

Because honestly, there were more important things right now than getting off this island and I was going to do everything in my power to remind him.

"Oh, no you don't," I said as I pulled on Greg's ankle, causing him to stumble to the ground. I took advantage of his surprise and pulled him on top of me, wrapping my arms around him to keep him in place.

"Um, Nick..."

"Hmm?" I said absently, relishing in the fact that I was apparently no longer Mr. Stokes to him. It was a good feeling.

He looked at me as if I was insane, and maybe I was, but I really wasn't about to protest the claim right now. "You do know that there's a helicopter out there, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"That's probably looking for us?"

"I don't think they're going to stop looking for us any time soon."

"You really want to risk the possibility of starvation and dehydration for something you're not even sure about?" He peered down at me pointedly, raising his head slightly.

I raised my eyebrows in question, personally thinking he was exaggerating.

"You can't be serious."

But I was; especially when I remembered what I had in my pocket.

I moved my hand to the back of his head, keeping my other arm around his torso as I ran my fingers through his hair. I leaned up slowly; taking his bottom lip in my mouth and wetting the dry, chapped skin before letting it go. "How about I know they'll keep looking for us for a little while longer?"

He didn't say anything about the kiss, only rolling his eyes at me. "I'm blaming you if I get sand in my pants over the course of the next four hours."

Only four hours?

Okay, I'd take what I could get since he already took off his shirt.

"Does it count if you're not wearing your pants, then?"

He rested his head on my shoulder, pausing as if to think the question over before lifting it to look down at me. "Yes," he said sternly.

Though, the tone didn't last long as I crushed his lips to mine, feeling him relax into the kiss as I felt his mouth curling into a smile against mine.

"I do have one question, though," I said after breaking away from the kiss. I needed to ask something that had been lingering in the back of my mind since I first met Greg. I knew it didn't really matter at this point, but I'd always had trouble not giving into my curiosity. "Did your parents really name you Pussy Galore?"

He smirked coyly at me and I knew I shouldn't have expected a straight answer from him, but the thought quickly disappeared when he pressed our groins together, creating a small amount of friction that left me desperate for more.

"You willing to stick around long enough to find out?"

I actually thought I would barely reach three thousand words with this part and I turn out exhuasting more than almost eight thousand (not including long author notes). I still can't believe how much I ended up writing for this thing in general.

Anyway, minor (but corrected) mistakes aside, when I was writing the fourth chapter of Brassfinger, I came to the painful conclusion that it would be bloody difficult to exceed the third chapter. Not only because the fourth chapter is the conclusion to the story, but rather I honestly had trouble summing this up. I'm never happy with endings; however, I'm grateful to finally have another completed story under my belt. I try to push the other unfinished ones beneath the rug for my sanity alone.

I admit that I was a bit hurried with the action scenes, but they really aren't my cuppa...seriously, because it too easily can become boring prattle if I attempt to prolong it. And yes, I did deviate from the original plot a bit overall and epsecially concerning this last part. But I thought it would be a neat twist to have Greg and Archie end up being undercover. Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that I wasn't too comfortable with giving Greg a "flying circus". But I think I made it fit accordingly.

That being said, it has been quite a ride for me in writing this - surpassing my own expectations of length and silliness and especially trying not to do much more than the latter. And I'm awfully surprised that this garnered such a postive response, but pleasantly so. This is my first story written in the first person perspective, so I'm happy it went over fairly well because I know my interpretation of Nick just wouldn't have been the same with a third person point of view - even limited. And while it did minimise the scope of the plot (maybe that's indolence on my part), I do believe it worked for the better.

Oh, and as I'm wont to say (in case someone does ask) there will definitely be no sequel to this). I honestly don't think they're could be. However, I do encourage you to watch Goldfinger if you have the chance. Not just because the references to the movie will make more sense, but because it's actually pretty good.

But enough of the shameless promotion.

Thank you for reading and thank you to silverrayne621, BlackIceNinja, Hairpull xox Snapmare, seether79, Sleeping YamaCat, Mma63, and HappensToBeMe for reviewing.