A/N: Going to just let you enjoy again. Thanks to everyone still reading and reviewing. You're great!

Disclaimer: I don't own CHUCK and I'm not making any money for writing this story.

When last we were with our Steampunk Chuck team, Sarah caught Casey softening up a bit...and Chuck and Sarah are struggling to balance the dire predicaments of the Intersect, the bounty hunter ... and their feelings under the cover that's under the cover. Why do I do this to them? Why? Ehehehehe . . .

She hadn't expected the bounty hunter to appear at the Aviator's Timepiece the next night.

After serving guests for over three hours, and a late dinner break, she'd stepped out of the kitchen and found him at the bar, a mug in hand and a steaming meat pie half-eaten.

Sarah stopped, wet rag in hand. They met eyes, her gaze surprised and his patient. And then she'd set the towel in the nearby sink and closed the distance, standing on the other side of the bar. "To what do I owe this pleasant visit, Mr. Casey?" she asked, hands on her hips.

He preened a bit, and then took shoved his fork loaded with beef and potato into his mouth, chewing slowly. "Pleasant, huh?" he asked around his food.

"Drop it. What's going on? Is Chuck alright?"

He snorted. "Like you care."

Fixing him with an impatient glare, she decided not to take the bait.

"Or maybe…you do care?"

Still, she didn't bite.

Looking a bit put-out that he didn't get the response he wanted, he set his fork down and took a long drink from his ale. "I know you spent last night with the toy boy. I want to know if you got anythin' out of 'im."

"Just what the hell are you insinuating?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. And especially with there being other people in the room, no less.

"I didn't mean it like that," he snarled, sitting back and curling his lip in disgust. "I heard you two planning a dinner date. An' the poor sod seems to trust you more'n he trusts me, since you got them legs and that face no doubt. I wanna know wut 'e told ya."

"Or what?" she asked, crossing her arms."Don't even try that with me, dollface. You know you got a lot more to lose'n I do."

He had a point and he knew it, damn it.

Sarah grumbled a bit and leaned her palm on the bar top, switching her weight and looking off to the side. "Fine. Honestly, I didn't get much. That postcard is so far the best lead we've got. And trust me, I tried to get something else out of him." She huffed. "I want to get to that bastard as much as you do."

"Yeah, that much is purdy obvious. What'd you climb into 'is lap?"

She noticed the way his jaw tightened, a flash lighting in his eyes as he glanced away. He was upset by the prospect, she could tell. Upset that she might be manipulating Chuck, using his feelings for her to get ahead in this race. Was it because he felt like she had a leg-up? Or was he protective of the inventor? A month ago, she would've said the former. But recently…

Well, it was strange that she really couldn't be sure anymore.

"Jealous?" she asked, popping her hip.

"The hell's that s'posed ta mean? Don't bat them eyelashes at me, Walker. I'm not a poor sod like that kid. I don't lose my head over a pair o' baby blues an' long legs."

"So what? What do you care if it means we find Bryce faster?" she asked, lifting her chin. "Since when did you care about his feelings?"

"I don't," he snapped, a little too quickly. "Just seems purdy unsporting-like. Kid's naive."

"He isn't as naive as you think, actually." He gave her a calculating look and she knew this was her opening. She could get him to trust her even more by admitting to what he'd eavesdropped on the night before. "He all but told me he knows I don't return his…affections." She shuffled the toe of her boot against the breadcrumbs on the wooden floor behind the bar.

"Then why the hell hasn't he cast you off like you deserve to be?" he asked, emphasizing it with a long drink from his mug.

"I don't entirely know. I don't understand why. But I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth."

He tilted his head and gave her a dubious look. "You don't 'entirely' know?" Casey scoffed and shook his head. "You know. Jes' like I know. Toy Boy wants to git in those knickers o'your'n."

"He doesn't. He's not like you." She paused, then, trying to cover up the fact that she hadn't meant to let that flood out so snippily, or so quickly either. She hadn't meant to be so defensive. But she did her best to continue on like she had meant to. "He isn't like Bryce. And you and I both would do well to recognize it. He's a completely different adversary from those I've had in the past."

"Adversary? Don't you mean 'mark', con woman?" he said, thankfully lowering his voice as he leaned forward so only she could hear him.

"Marks generally are adversaries, Casey. Deep down, I know he wants to protect Bryce, in spite of all the trouble he's causing him. Because he's a good man. And that directly conflicts with what I need. And with what you need. So I'm not letting my guard down."

Casey grumbled and shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "Shit, Walker…Goin' in a bit hard on the kid, don't ya think? I mean, you might be givin' 'im a bit too much credit, and mebbe not enough at the same time." She furrowed her brow in confusion. "I jes' mean the kid's not capable o' lyin' that well. Not like me, and definitely not like you. I mean, outwardly tryin'a help us find the spy jerk, but all the while tryin'a throw a wrench in the gears…" He paused, shifting his weight… "So to speak."

"Are you…defending him?"

"Well, someone's gotta. Shit!" he growled defensively. "Ya know, you do like 'im. An' don't try'n pretend ya don't. I kin tell. I know womenfolk. Even cheatin', lyin', stealin' womenfolk like you. The way yer still goin' after 'im like that don't matter, though…?" He shook his head. "Purdy savage, it is. You need help."

Good.

Let him think whatever he wanted to think, as long as he leveraged himself further on Chuck's side. If he was defensive and protective of Chuck, all the better. She didn't care if he thought she was 'savage' or greedy or selfish… If he thought she was actively torturing Chuck, going against feelings she may or may not have for him, for her own gain, for a quest for vengeance against Agent Larkin, good. As long as Chuck didn't think that, she didn't mind.

But perhaps Casey would be less likely to pounce on Chuck about Bryce now…at least for the moment.

Another guest walked into the Timepiece and she took it as an opportunity to leave the bounty hunter's side and greet the other man. She knew Casey watched her for awhile until he finally finished his meal and left, wordlessly passing her by with a patronizing shake of his head.

It made her angry, but she bit it back. She couldn't really blame him. And she couldn't help wondering, with how complicated this was becoming, would it have just been simpler to tell him the truth in the beginning and save all of this? The layers upon layers of subterfuge?

This was so complicated and it was starting to weigh so heavily on Chuck, too. What they needed was another distraction.

And she had no idea that a wire in Major John Casey's name had come in earlier, a wire he would see early the next morning. That wire had everything she needed in it.

}o{

It was early the next morning when Chuck was awoken by a loud slam. Then another. And another. All in quick succession.

He sat up in bed so fast, he nearly fell out of it, his legs tangling in the bedsheets so badly as he tried to kick them off that he was rather trapped where he was, half on and half off of the mattress.

"Bartowski!" he heard a far off voice growl. "Open up!"

"Casey?" he murmured, squinting in the dark and finally getting his feet free from their bindings.

He scrambled up to stand, teetering to the side for a moment. And as he caught himself, he grabbed a shirt from the nearest chair and shrugged it on, neglecting to button it.

It was Casey, after all, and what with the way the man kept pounding on his door, he thought it might be urgent.

Chuck hurried out of his bedroom and across the landing to his front door. Then he slipped the lock open, pulled back the chain, and whipped the door open. "Casey, wha—? Oh."

Sarah stood there with her arms crossed over her chest, seemingly nonchalant in spite of the way the huge impatient man behind her had been banging away on his door like the building was on fire or something.

"It's the middle o' th'mornin'. What the devil you doin' dressed like that?" Casey grumbled, making a face at his state of dress.

He realized belatedly, he was only in his undershorts and an unbuttoned dress shirt. And Sarah had her eyes resolutely plastered to the frame of the door. How much she'd seen before she'd done that, though, he had no idea.

"I-I'm so sorry. I was—I was sleeping."

"Like that?"

"It's…I have a small window and it was hot and stuffy. I'm in the privacy of my home, Casey," he snapped.

"Not at the moment. Li'l Sally Smith comes skippin' down that there sidewalk and she gets to see more of a man than 'er li'l innocent eyes kin handle." He looked supremely proud by that statement, and Chuck took a great amount of pleasure in wiping that smirk off his face.

"Why, Major Casey, if I didn't know better, I'd say that was a compliment."

The smirk was gone, in its place a flash of surprise, and then a scowl and a disgusted grunt.

Chuck heard a soft snort come from Sarah, however, and he thought maybe as he cast his gaze over at her that she'd been staring at him—or more accurately, at his torso. She looked away much too quickly for it to have been anything else. And he struggled to keep from either blushing or floating up into the clouds.

"What're you doin' sleepin' in the middle o' the day?"

Chuck snapped his offended gaze over to Casey. "I was tired. I stayed up all night working on the—You know what? No. I don't have to answer to you. I can sleep whenever I want. You're not my mother."

"Jes' git inside." Casey put a hand on Chuck's shoulder and pushed, making him stagger back a few feet to make room for Casey and Sarah to walk inside. Sarah shut the door behind them as Casey gestured towards Chuck's bedroom. "Put some clothes on. We're leaving."

"W-What? Leaving for what? When? Why? Huh?"

"Put some clothes on. We'll talk while you git dressed." Casey gestured towards the bedroom again.

"Maybe you are my mother," Chuck grumbled, still confused as to why they were both here so suddenly, but following orders anyway. They followed him into his bedroom much to his chagrin, and he glared a little as he went into his drawer and pulled out some trousers.

He stopped suddenly and sent Sarah a meaningful look. She widened her eyes, putting her hands up in surrender and turning around to give him at least a semblance of privacy.

Then he pushed his sleeping pants down, leaving him in his drawers, and stepped into his slacks. "So? What's all this about?"

"I got a wire sent to me from my…employer," Casey said. Chuck wondered if Sarah had also caught the way Casey paused right there. He made a note of it silently. "Along with a package. In that package is a dossier of one Marta Ruiz, ex-Air Commodore of the Royal United States Empire Air Force."

"Who's she? Besides impressive. Air Commodore? Yeeesh," Chuck said, buttoning his shirt and tucking it in, pulling his suspenders up around his shoulders and snapping them for good measure.

"She was impressive. Well, still is, I imagine. But not an Air Commodore anymore. Had 'er airship shot down over the Gulf of Mexico. According to her dossier, she was badly burned and survived in the water for close to fifteen hours 'fore anyone could find 'er. Lost most 'er crew out there," Casey said, and there was a definite thread of respect in his voice.

"Why did you get sent her dossier?" Chuck asked, fixing the collar of his shirt. "You can turn around now. I'm decent."

There was a slight smirk on Sarah's face when she turned back but it went away as soon as she saw he was looking right at her. He let it pass.

"She was in the Royal Air Academy with one Agent Bryce Larkin of the Imperial Espionage League, tha's why."

Chuck jumped a bit as he looked at the man. Sarah was watching him closely. When he looked at her, she nodded, crossing her arms again. "Oh. Well…can we talk to her? Ask her about him? Maybe you can go, Casey, scope things out." He grinned in a way that showed most of his teeth, receiving a less than amused snort from the bounty hunter.

"Ha. Not a chance. You're both comin' with me."

"Well, where do we find her?"

"Monterrey."

The room was silent for a long while as Chuck let that settle in his mind. "Casey, that's at least a few hours by train! I can't afford to—"

"Mexico."

"I mean, and what about Ell—What? Did you just say Mexico?"

Casey shrugged. "Yeh."

"Mexico. As in the country Mexico. Same country that's part of the Central American Union. That Mexico. Monterrey, as in the one in another country." He narrowed his eyes.

"Yes. Mexico, idiot."

Chuck was altogether too busy losing his sanity to notice the sharp glare Sarah threw at Casey before she could stop herself.

"I am not going to Mexico!" he practically yelled, making both of his companions jump.

"I've got news fer ya, toy boy. You are goin' to Mexico."

"Uh, no. I'm not."

"Yeh, ya are. If I have to knock you across yer damn gob and drag ya, you're going."

"Then do it!"

"Chuck…" he heard Sarah try.

"Don't think I won't, toy boy."

"Good! Do it!"

"Chuck!" she tried again, this time a little more forcefully.

Casey stepped forward just as she spoke up, ready to probably grab him by the throat, he thought, but Sarah lunged to hold him back, putting herself between them.

"What in hell's inferno is wrong with the both of you?" she hissed, looking back and forth between Chuck and Casey. "Honestly, men are ridiculous," she murmured, blowing a strand of hair from her up do out of her face and reaching up to fix it with her hand when that didn't work. "Chuck, we have no choice. Casey and I already discussed it and—"

"Oh, good. You discussed it. Then everything's settled. Let me just pack my bags," he sassed, giving her a flat look.

She glared back. "Don't get sarcastic with me, Bartowski. If this Marta Ruiz woman ends up knowing where Bryce could've gone, this could be exactly what we need to find him."

"What makes you think this random air force commodore who knew him once upon a blue moon would have more information than I've given you so far?" he asked, going into his closet and pulling out his vest, shrugging it on and buttoning it.

"Because she didn't just know him once upon a blue moon, you numskull. They were an item."

Chuck narrowed his eyes. "An item? Oh. Romantically…Oh." It clicked then. It rushed back to him suddenly, so suddenly that he turned away from both Casey and Sarah to go into his closet again so that they wouldn't see whatever look he might've had on his face in that moment. He took his time taking his suit jacket off the hanger and putting it on, making sure to stay with his back to them. "That doesn't surprise me. Also doesn't surprise me that she ended up becoming a commodore. He always managed to get the best girls."

He finally composed himself to turn back to them. And he decided that they didn't necessarily need to know that he remembered a letter from Bryce back when he first left for training, years earlier. In that letter, Bryce had mentioned another cadet he trained with. She beat him up. They went out dancing. He specifically remembered Bryce writing about how badly it hurt to dance after he was beaten down by her in training, but that he put on a good face for it anyway. Chuck remembered thinking the story was all terribly romantic, but then he hadn't gotten any sort of letter from Bryce for years after that, so he never heard or even thought more about it.

But that was his. It was his memory, his letter, and it wouldn't do any good to tell them about it. They'd think he'd hidden it from them on purpose all of this time, and he didn't have the patience for the accusing looks or the grumbles. He wanted to get back into bed and sleep. He wanted to be in his damn undershorts and nothing else, tucked in his sheets, dreaming about something…anything that didn't have to do with going to Mexico.

"Oh? Know any other women he had liaisons with?" Casey asked.

"It's not just about the…liaison," Sarah rushed, drawing Chuck's attention to her, making him miss the significant smirk Casey sent her. "Casey didn't tell you the important part, which is that an acquaintance of his who's stationed in Monterrey asked some of the locals and a few said they'd seen someone fitting Agent Larkin's description."

"Let me guess. Muy guapo came up a few times, did it not?" He rolled his eyes for Sarah's benefit and received a small smile for his efforts.

Casey grunted in disgust. "I dunno wut they said, but the description fits well enough that we need to find Commodore Ruiz and ask 'er where 'e went."

"He must trust her quite a bit if he went there for sanctuary," Sarah said.

"That bother you?" Casey snarked, but he was ignored by both.

"Is he still there?" Chuck asked, hoping against all hope that the answer was no. He wasn't ready for the sort of ambush Bryce Larkin would go through if he was still there when they arrived.

When they arrived. Chuck inwardly rolled his eyes. Why was he disputing going when he knew they'd both make him go anyway? This was a legitimate lead on Bryce. There was no possibility of Major Casey—the bounty hunter tasked by the government to apprehend the AWOL agent—not following a lead like this.

"Don't think so. He's smart enough to know not to stay in one place for too long. But we need to git down there now."

"Now? But I—"

"Now, Bartowski."

Chuck blanched, and then he glared and slowly closed the distance between them, standing face to face with Casey, nearly as tall as the older man was, but not nearly as muscled. "I made a quip about you not being my mother. But you're also not my master. Or my employer. I'm going with you, because I don't see as I have any other choice, but I've damn well had it with the way you talk to me."

Casey put his hands on Chuck's shoulders and slowly pushed him until he was a few feet away from him again. Then he dropped his arms to his waist again. "You ever get that close to me again, I'll hit you hard enough your dead ancestors three generations removed will feel it in their graves. You got that, toy boy?"

"Absolutely, yes. I'm packing."

}o{

"This?"

Sarah felt Chuck at her shoulder, his arm brushing against hers as they halted in the hangar. She boggled at the contraption and turned to look at Major Casey. "This?" she repeated Chuck's exact sentiments.

"This." Casey looked at the thing with a bit of a wince, then shrugged and crossed the hangar floor towards it. "Let's head out, folks. Got a timeline to stick to."

"Yes, well…I've got the ground to stick to, so I'll be seeing you all later."

Sarah smiled over her shoulder to watch as Chuck swiveled on his heels and walked in the other direction. She didn't even make any move to stop him, to the apparent annoyance of Casey as he rushed past her with a pointed snarl in her direction, because she honestly had half a mind to follow him.

Casey wrapped his fist in the back of Chuck's coat collar and yanked him back, walking towards the pile of garbage that was hopefully capable of flying them to Mexico and back in one piece.

"Hey! Wha—?" was all Chuck seemed capable of as he was forced towards the ship.

Sarah strolled along behind and shrugged at him as the look on his face begged her for help. They were trapped in this insane adventure with Major John Casey, bounty hunter and hopefully a semi-passable pilot. She'd thought of at least four separate harebrained schemes to get them out of this journey to meet some woman Bryce slept with years ago in the hopes he really had gone there for her help recently. But none of those schemes were viable. Not if she wanted to take Chuck with her.

Wherever Chuck went, Casey went. And vice versa. She doubted he'd let the toymaker out of his sight anytime soon.

And so they'd fly south in a battered dirigible on what was most likely another wild goose chase, only they were lucky this time that the wild goose chase was initiated by Casey and his government handlers, and not by them.

At least Chuck seemed to have gotten over the strange funk he'd been in after he'd shut down Morgan at the Buy More. With no one around to make sure he was functioning and charging himself, Chuck had told her there was a chance the android might malfunction, walk into a wall, and stay there marching in place until something inside of him busted and there was irreparable damage done to his system.

Chuck had taken the time to explain to Morgan where they were going and why he had to shut him down for a few days. Her chest had ached at the way the android promised he'd keep himself in tip top shape, make sure he charged every night, even clean the shop while they were gone…if only his builder would please not shut him down. And Chuck had done it anyway. It had hurt him, she knew. She saw the guilt as she helped him lay Morgan in a long casket-shaped box that had almost creeped her out as she looked down at the still android inside.

After seeing him plodding about the shop all these months, it had made her feel unsettled, even sad, to see him like that.

But Chuck had seemingly moved past it now, shrugging Casey's hand out of his collar and rolling his eyes at the con woman who followed behind.

"I'll get into the cockpit and see what I can do with 'er. Walker, untie 'er. Chuck? …Just find someplace safe inside to sit. An' shut up fer once." Chuck grumbled at Casey and moved towards the gangplank. He halted for a moment as Casey added one more thing: "And don't touch anything, for God's sake!"

Sarah thought she heard another grumble from the toymaker before he disappeared inside.

She stopped a moment to take in the whole thing from close up now. It was much bigger than it had looked at first. It had the body of one of those majestic Spanish galleons from the pirate drawings in one of the books she'd adored as a child, with three large round balloons that had seen better days tied to the deck and shrouds rather than the sails water ships relied upon. A wooden hull that was probably much smaller than that of the typical galleon arched up from the metal slabs it fit into to keep it from tipping over as it rested in the hangar. The aft deck had the forecastle, bow—something they wouldn't be using, surely—and the bowsprit with an American Empire insignia dangling from it. The stern had the rudder that would help them steer once they got up into the air, the wheel that Casey climbed up onboard to inspect, and windows that she thought was most likely the main cabin—for the captain. And over her dead body would Casey be using that, whether he piloted this thing or not.

"Walker, help me unroll these sails," Casey barked down from the main deck. Rolling her eyes, she climbed up the rope ladder along the outer wall of the dirigible's wooden body and pulled herself over the railing. And she found a few minutes later as she and Casey strung them up, that the ship did have sails. Two, to be exact. It made sense; one at the foredeck and the other in the middle of the cluster of air balloons. Casey grabbed a lever on the ground and pushed it forward. The sails tightened immediately and he grinned like a madman. "Delicious," he murmured, smiling slowly. "She's gonna give us a lot o' speed. That she is."

The con woman lowered her gaze from the massive balloon and walked along the deck to inspect. It wasn't nearly as large of a body as it had looked from where she'd been standing on the ground. The deck was perhaps forty-five feet in length, a little less than twenty in width. And that meant there probably wasn't much room below, either.

Sarah left Casey and slid belowdecks, entering through a hatch in the middle of the main deck and slipping into the dark beneath. One beam of light came through where Chuck had entered from, and she spotted him kneeling and inspecting one of the crates pushed up against the wall, slowly moving a lit match along its surface to read the letters there.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Textiles, I think. Wonder who might've left their cargo on the ship. You'd think it'd be important enough to take with them." He stood to his full height and blew out the match.

She passed him with a shrug and grabbed the ladder that led through an opening in the ground into the lowest level. "May I have a match, Chuck?" she called up. "It's as dark as a tomb down here."

"Coming."

She heard him climb down the metal ladder, his boots clinking on the rungs, and then she heard the thump of him hopping down the rest of the way. There was a scratching sound and the beautiful flame lit his hand and finally his face as he held it up.

"This doesn't look like it's a terribly old ship, so there may be lamps on the walls."

He helped her look and they found some, just as she'd suspected. Using Chuck's matches, they lit them and stood back to back, scanning their surroundings. A hallway led into three different rooms tucked behind rickety doors, and as she inspected the first, she found it was a makeshift kitchen. The second was a small room with a cot, and the third, an empty armory with an old cannon that was horribly rusted pushed into the corner.

She moved to join Chuck in the main room again. "What's on that side?" she asked as he came back in.

"Stores for supplies and food. And the ballast. Everything is there. Plenty of food and fresh water, almost like this contraption was outfitted for us before we even arrived."

"That's because it probably was," she said, squinting up the ladder and back to the main deck. "Casey works for IBoMaD. I wouldn't put it past them to have fixed all of this for him before even sending Ruiz's dossier and telling him to go after her. They like to have their soldiers in a line, as it were, before they make any moves."

He watched her for a moment. "You seem to know quite a bit about them and what they might do."

Her smile was wry. "Know thy enemy," she drawled. "It's how I've always stayed a step ahead of them."

There was something in his slow smile that she couldn't place, and it made her want to get out of this close, dark space that she was standing in with him, the lamplight dancing on his handsome features.

"We should get going," she said quickly and she brushed past him, quickly climbing up and not stopping until she was above decks again. "Are we leaving?" she asked Casey as she stomped towards him, brushing her hair out of her face. "What do you need me to do?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You makin' me captain?" She narrowed her eyes dangerously and he grunted in amusement. "Gonna take that as a no. Let's get 'er up. The kid all settled?"

"He's below."

They heard a loud clatter and a thump down on the ground next to the ship and Sarah hurried to the railing, peering over it. The plank lie on the ground, dust still settling around it.

"We're ready." She spun on her heel to see Chuck had poked his head up from belowdecks, holding the hatch open with one long arm.

"You didn't break nothin' did ya?" Casey growled.

"No." Chuck made a bitter face that made him almost look like a teenager and slid back down below, slamming the hatch behind him hard enough that Sarah winced.

She and Casey exchanged a look for just a moment before he barked orders at her. And as they worked together to untie the dirigible and get it floating up through the roof of the hangar, Sarah thought that maybe she had inadvertently just allowed Major Casey to become the captain.

}o{

The wind rushed against the hull of the dirigible as it cut through the clouds. Casey'd insisted on taking the wheel through the night since Sarah had fed them. It worked perfectly into her plans.

And that was how she found herself silently climbing out through the hatch onto the main deck.

Chuck was sleeping below, having made himself a little nook in the corner by the supplies, stringing up a hammock and eventually falling asleep. She could tell he wasn't too keen on flying just yet. But he hadn't spent enough time above to really get the feel of it. He hadn't held the wheel in his hands. That was when flying would become the experience she knew he'd been hoping for, based on what he'd told her awhile back.

Nobody seemed to want to sleep in the captain's cabin. The bed had a broken headboard, a flat mattress, and the lamps were broken, glass scattered across the floor.

There was no doubt the dirigible had seen battle.

Sarah eased the hatch lid shut as carefully as she could, her blue eyes scanning the deck to find Casey. He was exactly where she'd figured he would be, standing near the wheel, having tied it with a rope to keep them on course without needing to hold it steady the whole night through.

But he was pressed up against the railing, looking out over the side, his head covered in a flyer's cap he must have found someplace.

His back was to her.

Perfect.

He seemed distracted, too, dwelling on something far away…perhaps another time, even.

All the better.

The con woman halted, her feet stopping of their own volition.

They'd never be free if she didn't do it.

And Chuck would never be safe. Casey would dog his every move. And eventually the bounty hunter would find he had no use for the toymaker who was more important than he could ever know. Chuck would end up dead.

So Sarah had to act first.

She would be protecting the Intersect, the whole world.

Who was she kidding? This was also about protecting herself. It was survival of the fittest. And she lived the survival of the fittest lifestyle.

So much in her own life depending on the Intersect remaining intact. The only way she might make sure nothing happened to the man who carried the Intersect inside of his head was to get rid of any and all threats.

Major John Casey was a threat.

He was perfectly propped against the railing as she inched closer, moving silently along the deck, wisps of cloud swirling about her boots and face, the cool mist refreshing against her warm skin and droplets of sweat on the back of her neck.

The man had even leaned forward a bit. Both hands on his back, a good hard shove, and he'd be gone along with a lot of their struggles. The only one who knew about her, about her connection to Chuck, her connection to Bryce…Chuck's connection to Bryce…would be gone.

Things would be so much easier.

She could sneak back down to the cot in the lowest level bedroom where she'd gotten a few winks of sleep earlier before all of the other thoughts crowded her brain and woke her. Chuck would never know what had happened. Maybe the bounty hunter had tripped and fallen over the side. Or …

Sarah let her eyes slip shut.

Chuck would know.

Of course he would know.

He believed there was good in everyone, yes. And he was too trusting, absolutely. But he wasn't a fool. And he wouldn't believe her if she tried to pretend she didn't know how it had happened. He'd know she did it.

But that wasn't what made her stop again.

The idea that Chuck would think poorly of her (an understatement) wasn't what made her feet feel so heavy. He'd never look at her the same again. She could see the look on his face now; brow furrowed, lips parted, hurt and disappointment in those amber eyes of his that were so unguarded and warm most of the time…only there would be no warmth this time.

But that wasn't what stopped her from closing the rest of the distance and shoving the bounty hunter off of the dirigible to meet his grave somewhere below.

What stopped her was the knowledge of just how terribly she'd always think of herself afterward. The guilt and remorse would be debilitating. Because while she'd killed before—so many times before—it had always been an urgent need for survival that had prompted her putting a blade in someone's ribcage, or a bullet in their head. It was never simply to make things easier.

If Casey ever found out about the Intersect, if he ever found out that it was inside of Chuck Bartowski, the toymaker he so often derisively called an idiot and "toy boy", the inventor would be in so much danger. A bounty hunter wouldn't pause before selling Chuck to the highest bidder. She knew it. Could she protect Chuck from that? She didn't know if she could. Not if Casey caught her by surprise.

And in spite of all of that, Chuck seemed to trust the man. Too-Trusting Chuck Bartowski trusted this seasoned killer.

But didn't Chuck trust her, too? How could she justify his trust he had in her—a criminal and just as seasoned of a killer as Casey was—without also justifying the trust he had in Casey?

Suddenly, she realized that a part of her had grown to trust the surly bounty hunter as well. Small moments when he seemed to want to protect Chuck, just as she did. He'd saved Chuck's life. He'd been almost kind to Chuck after Ishmael Grand was murdered by the bastard IEL agent who'd blackmailed them. He'd cared enough to notice how much that moment had affected the toymaker. And, she thought, it had affected Casey too.

Was he becoming disillusioned? He must have already become disillusioned awhile ago, considering he'd been a major, had left service, and had taken up bounty hunting. Had he had a falling out with the royal government? Perhaps he didn't see eye to eye with the Royal Army, or whatever force he'd worked for before leaving service.

She couldn't do it. She couldn't murder him in cold blood. Not simply to make things easier. It would be wrong. It would be horribly wrong.

Instead, she decided to turn back and go down to her cot where she'd most likely berate herself for being a coward, for not putting all of this behind her and Chuck, giving him some semblance of freedom again.

But before she could move a muscle, she saw that Casey had turned to watch her over his shoulder.

Oh.

When had he noticed her, she wondered?

His eyes were narrowed in the low light from the half moon above the air balloons keeping them from crashing down in the forests of Mexico that stretched beneath them.

Did he know?

Could he tell by the way she stood there, frozen, a stricken look on her face (that she now tried to cover with a mask of nonchalance)? Did he know she'd meant to murder him for a good half hour as she lie awake in bed? And in the moments after as she'd climbed up on deck and stalked towards him?

She thought to ask if he needed her to take over for a while. She thought of a million things to ask or say that might alleviate his suspicions. And then he grunted and shrugged a shoulder.

"Join me," he said, gesturing to the railing with a thrust of his chin.

Sarah joined him with a single nod, sliding up against the railing beside him. "Beautiful night," she said quietly.

He merely chuckled, shaking his head. "That's the kind o' chatter we're havin'? 'Beautiful night'?"

The con woman didn't know how to respond to that, so she didn't, merely smirking down at her hands folded on the wood that needed a good sanding and polish.

"Does she know about me?" Sarah asked, then. And it seemed to take him by surprise as he turned from looking out at the clouds to glare at her thoughtfully. "Your general. Same general that you've been corresponding with since you first got here."

He grunted. "What general?" he tried.

"In my line of work, it's important to do the research necessary to put yourself at least one step ahead of your enemy. I made some inquiries of my own and discovered one General Diane Beckman is head of IBoMaD, overseeing weapons, machinery, defense for this great country of ours," she mocked. "GB in your telegrams."

Casey spun towards her and snarled. "How'd you git my telegrams? The hell you playin' at?"

"We're having a race, Casey, remember? And a lady never tells." She raised both eyebrows and leaned her arms against the railing, tilting her body over it and looking down. "The content of the telegrams isn't important. What I want to know is if she knows I'm here. Sarah Walker, the Ice Queen."

"If she knew you were 'ere, you would'a been snatched up months ago. Before you even knew wut was happening."

"Hm." She nodded, figuring what he said was true. "And…how much does she know about Chuck?"

"Jes' that he an' Larkin wus friendly when they were boys. Full disclosure, she's gettin' real tired o' the big heapin' load o' nuthin' I'm gittin' from hangin' around the toy boy." He shook his head and growled a little. "I jes' don't have no more leads. I need this Ruiz woman to have some good information or I'm settin' off agin, 'cept in another direction."

"Setting off? As in…leaving Los Angeles?"

He sniffed. "Wouldn't you jes' love that," he snarled. "I ain't tellin' you a damn thing."

And yet, he'd just told her plenty, she thought to herself, hiding a smirk. "Well, then…What do you make of Marta Ruiz? Air Commodore…She sounds like she isn't going to be the type of person who willingly gives information."

"She's ex-Air Commodore. Means she's got no strings attached."

"Just because she was injured out of the Air Force, doesn't mean she has no loyalty to her country, or the cause. And if you ask her anything about Bryce, we're going to get absolutely nothing from a woman who survived—what was it?—fifteen hours out on the water after her airship went down? She's not going to be an easy customer." Sarah turned to face him, lifting her eyebrow critically.

"Hmng. Well…Bryce has no doubt left a trail of dissatisfied, angry women in his wake, and here's hopin' she's one of 'em. If she hates 'im, we'll git quite a bit out of 'er, don'tcha think?" He raised his eyebrow right back at her, smirking.

Sarah ignored the knowing look in his eye. Or at least she made sure it seemed that way. "What if she still cares about him? She's going to want to protect him, and I don't much relish being on the bad side of a woman like that."

"Scared of a military woman, Ice Queen?" he asked, incredibly pleased with himself for seemingly putting two and two together. She bit back the laugh that threatened.

"Not necessarily. But I make it a point to never underestimate a woman I may or may not be going up against. That's where I've noticed most men tend to drop the ball, as it were. And they get flattened as a result. It would be foolish to underestimate Marta Ruiz."

The look on his face made it seem he was taking her warning seriously as he turned forward again and grunted. "Be that as it may, I have Bryce Larkin's boyhood pal at my disposal. If Larkin and Ruiz were as close as Beckman seems to think, pretty boy must'a mentioned Bartowski to 'er. If that gets us a lead, all the better."

Sarah made a noncommittal noise and leaned her chin on her palm, propping her elbow on the railing. She stared out at the sight of the moon playing on the misty clouds and sighed quietly.

"If she isn't one of the trail of angry women, that's somethin', don't you think?"

Frowning, she lazily turned to look at him, narrowing her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Well, as one o' the spurned gals 'e left behind, you mus' be pretty prickly 'bout there bein' a woman out there 'e didn't spurn. Someone 'e actually cares about. Hm?"

Casey probably thought he was sticking a dirk in her ribcage and twisting it. But he made the mistake of thinking he knew about women, like they were all the same. He'd guessed right about her having had a tryst with Bryce all those years ago, and she begrudged the bounty hunter's knowledge of her mistake even if it helped her sell this revenge plot to him.

But what he didn't understand was that she'd since forgotten what Bryce had even felt like. Other priorities had pushed it completely out of her memory. She wryly thought to herself that she'd practically forgotten what having any man in bed felt like in general, it had been so damn long. Bryce Larkin held no special meaning for her. She didn't need or want anything from him, except for him to leave her the hell alone so she could get on with her life. And, she thought with a spike of anger, she wanted him to cut Chuck from this nasty business he'd pulled him into. The toymaker deserved a normal life. The life he wanted.

And damn it, she could tell by the look on Casey's face that she'd taken too long to answer. But not for the reason he must think.

"If anything, I'd say I feel sorry for the poor girl caught in his hellish web. She might've been smart with a wheel in her hands, but the hot flesh of a man and a few sweet words has made her downright stupid if she still cares for that piece of rot."

"Seems you didn't always think he was a piece of rot."

"You're mistaken. Even when I had him naked and pinned under me, I still thought he was a piece of rot. Lust makes people do stupid things, Casey. Not something you'd know anything about." She gave him a simpering smile and moved away from the railing, wanting the last word before she went back below.

"I do, too, know about—"

Thump!

Whoosh!

"GET DOWN!"

A/N: Sorry to leave you all dangling off of a cliff like that ... but also not, because the next chapters are going to be fantastic. Hehehehe. Or, I should say, I had a fantastic time writing them. I mean, not really, it was difficult AF, but ... Whatever, I'm just going to ask for reviews. Reviews, please? Thanks, all. Love ya!

-SC