"How was your steak, Darling?" Emma asked, as August pushed his plate away and lifted a napkin to gently dab at the corners of his mouth.

"Perfect. Absolutely perfect. I don't know what it is about the Europeans, but man do they know how to grill a steak. They really are the best I've ever eaten."

Emma snorted out a chuckle at her partner's words. This was not the first time August had waxed lyrical about how much he enjoyed European steak while they were on a mission, and she was sure it wouldn't be the last. However, her attention was pulled away from their meal when she noticed one of the two gentlemen in the corner of the room leaving his seat.

Emma had been watching the pair ever since they had entered the hotel's bar. She couldn't quite get a read on them. On the one hand, they presented exactly as two guys just enjoying a vacation in the mountains, looking forward to hitting the slopes. On the other, she could have sworn she'd seen one of them cataloging the people in the room the same way Emma had done while she dined. It was odd. Usually, her gut guided her where her head struggled, but that evening, Emma's gut seemed just as confused as her mind.

"Anything?" August asked, leaning in a little closer so that anyone watching them too carefully would simply think the happy couple was whispering sweet nothings to each other.

"They're either just really observant holidaymakers, or they're gonna be our biggest competition for this weapon," Emma explained.

"Let's hope it's the first option. I don't much fancy getting into a fight with the guy still sitting at the table," August remarked.

Emma allowed her gaze to flick over to the burly man still nursing a pint of beer before she turned back to August. "Yeah, he's all yours if this goes south," she giggled, settling back in her seat to try and find the burly guy's companion.

Emma's eyes finally landed on the back of his head just in time to watch the guy pass by their table. He was heading towards the elevators at the back of the lobby, and inspiration suddenly struck. "Why don't you stay a little longer and enjoy a nightcap, Darling? I'm going to squeeze in an early night before we start touring the town."

August's eyes flashed over to the bank of elevators and then back to his partner. Realization was quickly coloring his features. "Of course, My Love. I'll be up soon."

"Take your time," Emma assured him, standing from her chair and leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. She quickly gathered up her purse and shawl, then made her way out of the room without a second glance.

In a stroke of good fortune, the elevator arrived when she was only steps away, and Emma called out, "Would you mind holding it for me, please?" as she quickened her steps.

The gentleman she'd been watching all evening stepped in and reached out to press the button that would keep the doors open, while Emma made the last few steps at something akin to a trot before she slipped inside the carriage.

"Thank you so much," she praised, turning towards him. "I'm absolutely exhausted, and knowing my luck, the next one would have stopped at every floor on the way down before it got to me."

The guy offered her a tight smile but didn't say anything else, allowing an uncomfortable silence to settle between the two of them. Just as Emma was mentally reviewing different lines to break it, he finally spoke up.

"It's a lovely day for a trip to the beach, wouldn't you agree?"

Emma had to force her jaw not to drop with her surprise. She'd been expecting to hear that line on her final day of the job, not during her first.

She mumbled some sort of agreement to the stranger's words as she fiddled in her bag for the jammer she had used before and quickly flicked it on. After counting to five in her head, she turned to face the other man and asked, "You're CIA?"

"You're the double?" he threw back, sliding his hands in his pockets to turn and face her.

Emma didn't like the way his eyes slipped down her body and back up again, clearly looking her over and finding her less-than-impressive.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded instead. "If the CIA is bidding for this thing too, why am I being asked to retrieve it?"

"We're not here to bid for it," he sighed. "The CIA doesn't fund terrorist organizations. We're here to copy it. Or, at least, to make a copy as close to accurate as we possibly can. Then, when you retrieve the device, we can make the switch."

Emma quickly cycled through all the many ways in which that plan could go wrong before she decided to ask the most pressing question on her mind. "And how do you plan to copy a chemical weapon in a Swiss hotel?"

"The plans you handed over to Jones have helped. We just need eyes on the final piece to be certain Mikhailov hasn't changed anything before we make the switch."

"And how are you planning to get eyes on that weapon?" Emma demanded. "It'll be under the tightest of security, and if you make one wrong move, Mikhailov will call this whole thing off."

"We were hoping you could help with that," he said, offering her a large, smug smile.

"Of course, you were," Emma sighed, because she should have known the two guys in the bar were not cut out for undercover stealth operations. They simply weren't built for that.

"Does Jones know about this?" she demanded. While Emma hadn't known him for long, she felt like she'd gotten a good read on her handler, and this didn't feel like the kind of job Agent Jones would have pulled her into. He certainly didn't strike her as the sort of man to build a plan around giving her a dangerous role without actually running it past her first.

"Agent Jones is no longer a part of this operation."

"W– What does that mean?"

"I don't know the details," the other agent spat out. "All I know is that Agent Jones has been reassigned, and your case is now being handled by someone with more understanding and experience in this area."

"And who is this someone else?" Emma demanded, folding her hands over her chest.

At that exact moment, the carriage rocked to a gentle stop, and a high-pitched ding rang out around the small space.

"This conversation isn't over," she warned, turning to face the doors as she reached inside her bag for the jammer. Emma flicked the button to turn it off just as the doors slid open. She stepped off the carriage and made her way down the corridor to her room without ever looking back, her hand tense around the device the entire time.

As soon as the door had swung shut behind her, Emma began pacing the length of the hotel room. Granted, she hadn't been a double agent with the CIA for long, but Emma knew how important it was to follow your gut when you worked as a spy, and her gut was busy screaming that every single part of this was wrong! Making contact with the CIA while she was undercover was wrong! Switching handlers without informing her was wrong! Asking her to put her life in danger to carry out a task the CIA should be doing themselves was wrong! Yet, Emma had absolutely no way of getting in touch with anyone to complain about the situation she'd found herself in, which really only left her with two choices – do as the CIA asked, and risk being outed to both Mikhailov and Gold, or refuse to do as they asked, and risk being considered a traitor by her country. She was stuck between the proverbial rock and hard place. Emma could only hope that a good night of sleep would bring some sort of clarity to her situation.

I'm so sorry for the delay in sharing anything with you guys. Unfortunately, I have a lot going on in my RL at the moment that is demanding my full attention but I hope to get back to you all more regularly soon.

Thanks for reading and reviewing.