A/N: The way I figure it, only another 64 years until the copyright expires and nobody owns Chuck. Now I'm bracing myself for those readers here who are also lawyers to set me straight.
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It was early morning and Sarah had just finished briefing her team for the upcoming takedown of La Ciudad when the tech assigned to the team announced that the signal was on the move. Sarah and nine other men and women, all fully geared up with weapons and black tactical equipment piled into a couple of vans to follow the signal. She had to fight down panic when we saw the signal arrive at Echo Park and stop there. She ordered the driver of the van to put the pedal down and get them there sooner than immediately.
She took out her phone. "Casey, La Ciudad is at your location." She sounded a little frantic, even to herself.
"Shit," he said. "Hold on...Ok, I see, crossing the courtyard. Yuri the Gobbler and the woman. Looking at apartment numbers. Approaching Chuck's apartment."
"Engage, Casey. Take them out. Take them out now. We are fifteen minutes away. You can't wait..."
"Hold on, Walker. There are no weapons visible. I'm not getting that vibe. Just hold on."
She bit back her reply. He was on scene and she'd have to trust his judgment, but she wanted to scream. Casey continued, "In the doorway...chatting with Ellie...Here's Chuck...Just talking...Here's Devon." Casey chuckled. "Awesome is admiring Yuri's biceps...Ellie and Awesome leaving for work...ok, Chuck's taking them inside...wait...yeah, inside. Doesn't seem like a threat to Chuck."
"Casey, you don't know what they are doing in there."
"I don't, but I want to find out. And if I bust down the door, I won't..."
"We are ten minutes out...when I get there..."
"Wait a second...," said Casey. "They are leaving his apartment...all three of them...damn, they are coming here...to me. I'll call you when I can...in the meantime, don't interfere unless we signal for help or you know the score...out." He hung up.
Her insides clenched. Her team was in danger. Chuck was in danger. She had to do something other than merely wait, but she had to just wait.
Arriving at Echo Park, Sarah deployed her team. Any direction La Ciudad and the Gobbler took to leave the complex, they would run into a collection of armed agents. They had identified La Ciudad's car, a black SUV, and installed a tracker on it. She had a sniper team on overwatch reporting on everything they could see through the windows of Chuck's apartment. At the moment, that appeared to be breakfast. She knew she was being irrational, but some part of her couldn't help but think that that bitch was eating Sarah's breakfast.
"Major Casey on the move," reported the sniper team. "He's signaling for us to hold. He's heading to his apartment.
Her phone rang. Casey. "Walker," she answered.
Speaking very fast, he said, "No time. She thinks I'm Chuck's brother, a criminal who can help her move the stolen Stingers from Salt Lake through Los Angeles Port to a ship tonight. You will be my Port contact who can arrange it. I told her we haven't moved out of the Port, only in, but out should be easier for us. Stay tuned. Casey out." He disconnected the call.
"He's on his way back to the other apartment," said the sniper.
Oh, shit. La Ciudad had the stolen Stingers...from the Armory in Salt Lake. They couldn't take her now. Not until they had the Stingers...and the buyers for the Stingers, if possible. Ok, Casey was right to wait. Even if they took La Ciudad now, the Stingers would be loose and dangerous. They had to play along until they could wrap up all the bad guys at the same time.
"Ok, guys," Sarah said into the team's communication link. "New game. La Ciudad has the stolen Stingers from Salt Lake coming in to LA tonight. She intends to move them to a ship at the Port. We are going to help her get them there and then take the Stingers and all the players. Casey and Carmichael are undercover with her and her man."
She punched a few buttons on her phone and was on with Graham. "Graham, secure." Graham had gotten her report on the events of last night and expected to hear that La Ciudad was in custody.
"Walker, secure. La Ciudad has the Stingers from Salt Lake. She is moving them to a ship in the Port of Los Angeles tonight. Don't know the buyers yet. Casey and Chuck are undercover with her and will be assisting in arranging for the transfer. They have set it up so that I am their contact in the Port. I will need complete cooperation from the Port authorities."
"Done. Get those Stingers back and capture La Ciudad. How long will it take you to get to the Port?"
"At this hour? It's all the way down in Long Beach. An hour? Maybe two." She had just made the same drive last night chasing Harris's bullshit.
"Ok, the folks at the Port will be alerted by the time you get there. Coast Guard too. You will have a cutter at your disposal."
"Thanks. Walker out."
Back on her team's communication net, she said, "I'm heading to the Port. Fitz, you're with me. Billy, you are in command in my absence."
"Roger that, Agent Walker," said Billy.
"On my way," said Fitz. Within moments the towering red-headed agent was beside her. "Want me to drive?"
"Yeah, I may be on the phone," Sarah said.
They took one of the vans (there was no other choice) and headed south to Long Beach. They were fifteen minutes out from Echo Park when her phone rang. She disconnected the call after a moment and asked Fitz for his phone. Calling Casey back on Fitz's phone, in case La Ciudad had noted the prior number, she and Casey carried out the charade of her recruitment for that night's work. She smiled a tiny smile when she called La Ciudad by the wrong name, even while she knew she was being petty. She was really looking forward to arresting the dark-haired woman.
When they arrived at the Port, she and Fitz were shown into the office of the Executive Director. He had with him a burly white-haired man in a police uniform, who was introduced as the Chief of the Port Police and a woman in a business suit, who was introduced as the General Counsel of the Port. Also present, was Coast Guard Commander Rachel Garrett, a brunette in her late thirties, the Captain of the Coast Guard cutter Grant. When they had a moment alone, Sarah congratulated her on the capture of the North Korean spies from the off-shore ship a few weeks before. Garrett seemed excited to be working with Sarah's team again, as the last effort had proven so successful.
The six of them spent the next few hours studying a map of the Port and debating the best berth for the Mumara and the best time of day to arrange for the transfer. The choice of berths was more limited than it might otherwise seem, as the Port was built to accommodate container ships. Berths for simple freighters were fewer. They decided not to draw attention to this particular ship by moving another ship to a different berth. Of equal importance to a quiet spot, was a spot with few land exits, as Sarah and her team wanted to be able to bottle La Ciudad and her party up with limited escape routes. They also wanted a spot where the Grant could easily intervene if necessary.
After several hours of discussion, it was decided to have the Mumara dock on a triangular spit of land on the Main Channel on Terminal Island before the eastward jog of the Channel by the Battleship Iowa Museum. The Main Channel would be quiet in the evening. There was only one road off that portion of land, easily blocked by Sarah's team. The Grant could loiter on the far side of the small rectangular section of Terminal Island on which the Coast Guard Headquarters for Los Angeles itself was located. It would be hidden from the Mumara, but in a perfect position to intervene with the take down of La Ciudad's men. The only negative about the spot is that San Pedro Fish Market was right on the other side of the Channel, and would be filled with people. Sarah thought, though, that if they put it off until too late in the evening, when the Market would be empty, the truck would seem too conspicuous.
Now that the berth had been selected and a rough time for the transfer agreed upon, Sarah took out a map of Long Beach and selected a spot to meet La Ciudad's truck with the Stingers. She decided upon the parking lot of the St. Peter Catholic Church on West Ofarrell Street. It would be quiet in the early evening (she had someone check to make sure there wouldn't be a wedding or something there that night) and had easy access to 47, which would take them right into the Port.
Once the arrangements had been made, Sarah called Casey and told him where the Mumara would berth and where and when to have the truck meet her. Commander Garrett headed back to the Grant to make her preparations. Sarah ate something, borrowed a pair of jeans from the woman lawyer, and was given a tee shirt, wind breaker and baseball cap all with the Port insignia. Since she had time, she drove a borrowed Port vehicle to the Church's parking lot and back to the berth where the Mumara would dock. She did the drive twice to make sure she had memorized the route.
Sarah heard from those of her team in Echo Park that Casey, Chuck, Yuri and La Ciudad were on the move and heading towards Long Beach. Billy had arranged for the team to obtain several cars as they had no intention of trying to follow their target in a huge black tactical van. While they were doing so, the Mumara docked in its assigned berth. It took Chuck, Casey and the others well over an hour to arrive and find a place to wait for the rendezvous with Sarah and the Mumara. Two members of Sarah's team were in the bar and grill covering Chuck and Casey, but there was no drama at all to be observed there.
Eventually, it was time. The Director and lawyer wished her luck. The Chief of the Port Police would be along with her team and a handful of his own men for the take down. She parked in the Church's lot and waited.
The truck arrived on time. It was a 12 foot long Penske rental truck with Minnesota plates, its bright yellow body seemed incongruous to Sarah in concealing fifteen stolen missiles. There were two men in the cab, a burly bald-headed man and a skinny guy with a tattoo of tears on his face. The skinny guy moved over and Sarah climbed into the cab. She was glad the evening was warm enough to keep the window of the truck open, as neither man smelled too clean.
Sarah didn't volunteer a name and neither man seemed inclined to ask. "Make a left," was all the greeting she gave them. "Ok, now a right onto North Gaffey and follow the signs for 47 East."
They rode in silence for a while until the skinny guy, who had been checking her out, said, "Hey, when this delivery is made, you want to get a drink? Maybe you can show us a good bar around here. We been on the road for a few days and need to unwind a little."
"No," she replied, looking out the window. He didn't ask again.
Sarah wasn't nervous about being with these two scumbags. She was nervous, though, about the whole operation. She believed she had thought of every contingency and made her plans accordingly, but there were three separate groups of bad guys to consider – La Ciudad, these guys in the truck, and finally the men on the ship. Too many variables for comfort. To her surprise, she found herself wishing Chuck and Casey were with her to talk over the plans. She had worked solo for much of her career, but now missed the judgment and input of the rest of her team.
They crossed the Vincent Thomas Bridge and Sarah said, "Here, take this exit." At the foot of the exit ramp was a large gate, manned by Port Police. As they pulled up Sarah said, "That one," pointing to one of the turnstile lanes. Once at the turnstile she said, "Wait here." She got out and pretended to deal with the uniformed officer at the gate. In fact, she had met and spoken to the man two hours earlier. She got back into the cab of the truck and said, "Go through. Now, make a left, here." They turned onto Ferry Street. "Ok, she said, "Right here. Terminal Way." Stacks of multi-colored containers filled the lot to the left.
She glanced at her watch. Fitz spoke in her ear, "La Cuidad and party just arrived at the dock." He would be tracking her from her watch and would know that she was mere minutes away. Terminal Way changed its name to South Seaside Avenue and turned left to head south. Shortly after the turn, Sarah said, "Here, turn right on Wharf Street. Now follow it to the end." They drove down the increasingly narrow strip of land. Water was to their left and huge natural gas container tanks were to their right. In a couple of minutes they arrived at the point of the triangle
The Mumara was docked on their right with its lights on. When the truck engine was switched off, Sarah heard the low rumble of the ship's engines. What the hell? That probably wasn't normal. There was nothing for Sarah to do about it though, not at the moment. La Ciudad's black SUV was parked there, with Chuck, Casey, La Ciudad and Yuri the Gobbler standing beside it. Sarah noted that Chuck's description of the woman was not accurate. He had described her as pretty, while in fact she was very beautiful.
Sarah stepped out of the truck cab and began to walk towards the little group by the SUV just as La Ciudad and Yuri were walking towards the truck. Both women passed each other with a nod. Then stopped with their backs to each other three or four feet apart as an almost physical sensation of challenge passed through them. Sarah could never remember a feeling like this, a sudden bone deep certainty that there would be a contest between them, and soon. She shook herself and continued to Chuck and Casey.
Maintaining their cover, in case any of the others could hear, Casey said, "Evening, Sarah. You remember my brother, Chuck."
"Hi," said Sarah, shaking his hand.
"Hi," said Chuck.
None of them noticed La Ciudad closely watching the exchange of greetings.
A man came down the gangway from the ship and approached La Ciudad. They began to converse in Arabic. She went to the back of the truck and opened the doors, showing him the contents. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he made a gesture to the deck of the ship and dozens of Arab-looking men, all with AK-47's slung on their backs, swarmed down the gangway towards the truck.
OH, SHIT, thought Sarah. This wasn't good. Fitz had waited too long. Now they were seriously outnumbered, even with the Port police to help. Her plans had factored in a number of contingencies, but not an army deployed from the ship.
Fitz must have agreed, because that's when it all hit the fan. Every available light suddenly illuminated the scene and heavily armed agents began to swarm out of the building behind them, spreading into a semi circle as they advanced with their weapons raised. Fitz's amplified voice boomed, "FEDERAL AGENTS. LAY DOWN YOUR WEAPONS. FEDERAL AGENTS."
The men from the ship, both moving to the dock and on the deck of the ship itself, unslung their weapons and began to fire at anyone and everyone on the dock. Sarah tackled Chuck and bore him to the ground, covering him with her body while drawing her weapon. The skinny guy from the truck, who had visions of having drinks with Sarah, died on his feet as he was almost cut in half by a burst from an automatic rifle firing from the deck of the ship. His partner prudently hit the ground and rolled under the truck.
Yuri was covering La Ciudad with his body and firing at the men from the ship, apparently deeming those trigger-happy fools the greater threat. Sarah and Casey were also firing their weapons, but the volume of return fire was so intense that it would have been suicide to stick your head up for a moment to aim properly. A dozen shooters lined the railing of the Mumara, their positions sparkling with the flash of their weapons.
Even amidst the firestorm, men from the ship began to pull the Stingers in their transport cases from the truck and up the gangway. There was a deep boom of a sniper rifle firing, and one of the men dragging a Stinger pitched forward and lay still. Another man, jumped into his place and began to drag the box. Boom. He died. Another man jumped in, firing his rifle one-handed. And so it went. They managed to get six or seven missiles onto the ship, but left a trail of dead bodies in their wake, both on the dock and floating next to it.
When it seemed that there were no more martyrs on the dock trying for the missiles, the ropes holding the Mumara to the dock went slack and fell into the black water of the harbor. The ship left the dock and moved into the Main Channel beginning to gather speed.
OH SHIT, thought Sarah.
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Commander Rachel Garrett stood in the Combat Information Center of the Grant and listened as Fitz reported the Mumara on the move. "Helm. All ahead full. Block that ship from leaving the harbor." There were no windows in the CIC, and her view was all video screens and computer monitors and subdued lighting. It was designed to allow the Captain to fight the ship from one location.
"All ahead full, aye, Ma'am," responded the helm. The engines, already warm, roared and the ship surged forward. They would come around the southernmost point of Terminal Island and block the Channel out to sea.
"Hail the Mumara," she said.
"No response, Captain."
"Keep trying."
The Mumara was making surprising speed down the Channel. As the Grant came slightly to starboard to cut it off, they realized they were too late to block. Garrett ordered, "Run parallel through the channel. We'll engage once clear of the harbor."
The Mumara was swinging slightly to port in order to stay in the Channel and make it through the gap in the jetties which protected the harbor. It pushed farther to port than necessary, threatening to either ram the Grant from its port side or to push it into the side of the southernmost island of the harbor. Small arms AK-47 fire from the deck of the Mumara peppered the side of the Grant with few results. Concerned with civilian casualties, Garrett ordered the Grant to fall back, so as not to get in a gunfight with the enemy while in the harbor itself.
Neither ship was paying the least bit of attention to the speed limits inside the harbor, designed to eliminate wakes for the safety of the docked ships. In fact, both ships were travelling fast with a high angry vee of white water framing each of their bows. The Grant had a siren blaring at high volume to warn away all other ships in the vicinity.
Garrett ordered, "Get me Admiral Kinsler."
The Mumara passed the Los Angeles Harbor Lighthouse to starboard and, moments later, so did the Grant. They were now in the open sea. Garrett had finished her discussion with the Admiral.
"Weapons, fire the cannon across her bow."
"Aye, Captain. Firing across the bow." The weapons officer pulled up a screen on her computer and moved the mouse. On the deck, the single barrel of the OTO Melara 76mm cannon swiveled to starboard and pointed across the bow of the Mumara. With a tap of her mouse, the weapon roared and a shell flew across the distance between the ships, to impact in the water on the far side of the enemy ship with a boom and a tall splash.
"Any response to our hails?"
"No, Captain. Silence."
"Very well. What's our depth?"
"We make four hundred feet, Captain." Her First Officer looked at her with a question in his eyes. She said, "I don't want to block the Channel." His eyes widened at the implications of her statement.
A plume of smoke left the Mumara and headed towards the Grant. It seems that someone on board had gotten a Stinger missile working and was trying to use it as an anti-ship missile. Of course, a warhead designed to damage a lightweight, fragile aircraft would have an entirely different effect on the steel hull of a heavy ship. As expected, it impacted on the side of the Grant with a loud bang and a flash of fire and nothing else.
"Damage?" asked Garrett.
"Bullshit, Cap. Pretty much bounced off," said the bosun from on deck.
"Ok. Weapons?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
Garrett pointed to the Mumara on the video screen in front of her and said, "Sink that motherfucker."
With a grin the Weapons officer responded. "Sink that motherfucker, aye, Ma'am."
The screen in front of her held a steady image of the enemy ship. She focused the crosshairs of the OTO Melara cannon on the bow of the other ship, just at the water line. Boom, the cannon fired a 28 pound armor piercing shell. The high explosive round impacted on the Mumara's bow, entered the ship and blew a hole in the hull the size of a large barrel. She refocused the crosshairs slightly lower and fired again. The second hole in the bow joined the first one and, combined, they were now the size of a large door, a door with sea water surging through it.
The volume of small arms fire from the Mumara increased, but the Grant was out of range of the assault rifles and the rounds fell harmlessly into the water between the two ships.
Nobody had told the Mumara's engine room to slow, so the ship continued to plow on at full power, but with a large hole in the bow, seawater was pouring into the innards of the ship and its forward movement was just making it worse. The bow was noticeably lower in the water, but the ship still moved straight ahead to its death.
Garrett ordered, "Ceasefire."
"Ceasefire, aye, Ma'am."
They watched as the Mumara's bow dipped lower and lower into the water, the hole they had created no longer visible. The ship was wallowing now, the engines incapable of carrying her forward no matter how hard they tried.
Garrett ordered, "Prepare to get rescue boats into the water, but I want them armed. These are some real dead enders out there. They may not welcome salvation."
"Rescue boats, aye, Captain."
While they watched, the Mumara rolled over on its starboard side and disappeared beneath the waves.
No one cheered.
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Heavily armed and black-clad Federal agents rounded up the survivors of the shoot out on the dock. The wounded would have to wait until all the armed combatants had been rendered harmless.
As agents approached Casey, Sarah and Chuck the first two put their pistols on the ground, knelt with their hands interlocked behind their heads and waited. After watching them for a moment or two, Chuck mimicked their actions. Sarah's orders were clear that, so long as they were around Yuri and La Ciudad, their covers were to be maintained and they would be arrested with the others. The agents collected La Ciudad and Yuri and the driver from under the truck.
As Fitz was corralling the prisoners, La Ciudad said to Sarah, "You betrayed me, you bitch. You will die for that."
Fitz started to laugh. He said, "I don't know who you think betrayed you, honey, but the truth is, I don't even know who you people are. We were following the truck." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the truck with its now partial load of Stingers. "But, if you guys want to fight among yourselves, go right ahead. I'll buy popcorn and watch."
He called out, "Bring the two detention vans." Each of the prisoners was handcuffed with their hands behind them. Sarah knew that she, Casey and now Chuck all had handcuff keys taped to the back of their belts, but now was not the time nor the place for that particular bit of preparation to be on display. The detention vans arrived. Fitz commanded, "Put the ladies in one and the men in the other."
Just as Sarah was being helped into the van, Fitz announced, loudly, "Grant just sunk the Mumara. They are looking for survivors." Sarah was delighted. Those loose missiles had been weighing on her mind. 'Way to go, Garrett,' she thought.
She settled back onto the bench of the van and closed her eyes. The doors to the van closed and she heard the thunk of a lock.
La Ciudad spoke, "So, Sarah, right?" Sarah grunted. "Looks like you have the hots for Casey's brother, Chuck. Well, honey, you can forget that one."
Sarah opened her eyes and looked at the other woman. She thought, 'what in God's name...?'
"Don't try to deny it. I saw the way you look at him. And when the shooting started you jumped him to protect him. Anyone could have seen it. But you can forget it...I was just doing him this afternoon. And sweetie, let me tell you, he is great in the sack...oh, man, he really knows how to use it..."
La Ciudad continued to talk about her sexual escapades that afternoon with Chuck and Sarah knew she was doing it just to get a rise out of her. Sarah closed her eyes again and only listened with half an ear.
If this had been Bryce, Sarah would have believed every word...there she was again, comparing Chuck to Bryce. It would have been perfectly normal for him to bed a mark...and bedding the infamous La Ciudad...no question at all, even if she hadn't been as beautiful as she was. And it wouldn't have bothered Sarah any more than smiling at a mark or buying a drink for a mark. It would have just been business and nothing personal at all. Just a purely physical series of actions with no feelings behind it.
But, why hadn't that bothered her then? Why the difference between the two men? She knew she wasn't good with relationships and felt, somehow, that her problem with relationships was the answer to the puzzle. So maybe it wasn't a difference between the men, maybe it was a difference between the relationships. Maybe her relationship with Chuck was such that exclusivity was expected, whereas it hadn't been with Bryce. But why not? She didn't have a good answer yet, but felt she was on the right track. She knew for sure that if Chuck had had sex with this woman this afternoon, she would feel a terrible ache in her heart and that that wouldn't have been the case during her relationship with Bryce.
...wait a minute...did La Ciudad just say on top of a running clothes dryer...interesting...Sarah'd have to think about that...
But she didn't feel that ache in her heart. Not at all. Because she knew, without an iota of uncertainty, that it was bullshit and Chuck had never slept with her. No way. He wouldn't do that. It was as inconceivable as the sun refusing to come up in the morning. She felt silly for losing her temper over the tango lessons the prior night. Chuck would not cheat on her. Sex was now intertwined with feelings and she didn't think it would ever again separate. As the thought coalesced in her mind, she wanted to smile to herself (but couldn't, given her company). And she knew, in that moment, that she would never cheat on him either. Ever. Seduction missions for Agent Sarah Walker were over. That was that. Wow, what a wild and liberating thought. She was almost giddy when she considered it.
La Ciudad continued to talk about sex with Chuck, apparently thinking that Sarah's silence was an indication of suffering. It was getting annoying.
Sarah spoke for the first time since entering the van and said, "Turtlenecks."
"What?" asked La Ciudad.
"Turtlenecks," said Sarah again.
"What are you talking about?"
"Turtlenecks...you should really think about them. You know, to cover that hideous scar. I mean, it's really ugly as shit...what happen to you? Trip and fall while drunk one..."
Sarah didn't finish the thought because the side of the other woman's foot caught her in the jaw with a roundhouse kick, knocking her to the deck of the moving van. Spitting a little blood from her mouth, Sarah smiled. It's on, she thought.
The other woman was standing over her, saying, "Shut your stupid mouth you …"
Sarah's right foot caught her in her knee and with a shout of pain, La Ciudad went down. Sarah raised her heel and brought it down hard, but La Ciudad had moved her head out of the way and Sarah just banged the steel.
La Ciudad did a back roll and came to her feet just as Sarah completed a shoulder spring. Sarah rushed at La Ciudad and headbutted the other woman. As she staggered back, Sarah jumped as high as the low ceiling of the van would permit, piked her knees up to her chin and pulled her cuffed hands under her butt and heels to her front. Sarah's booted feet impacted on the deck once more.
If La Ciudad was impressed by the borderline acrobatic move, she gave no indication of it. She launched a side kick at Sarah's middle that would have broken a rib, if Sarah had not twisted and only taken a glancing blow to her side. Using her cuffed hands as hammers, Sarah struck at the side of the other woman's head, but a raised shoulder partially blocked the blow. The van turned a corner and both women lost their balance and fell to the ground. On her back La Ciudad took that opportunity to pull her legs up to her chest and pull her cuffed hands to her front as well.
Sarah leaped to her feet, but La Ciudad grabbed at one of her ankles and pulled her off balance. As she fell, Sarah kicked La Ciudad in the face with her free foot giving the other woman a bloody nose. Sarah was rewarded by a double fist strike to the side of her head that made her see stars.
Both women clambered to their feet once again, both somewhat worse for the fight. They squared off and faced each other for long moments, each assessing and looking for weaknesses in the other. Eyes narrowed, they appraised their opponent.
Finally, Sarah shrugged and seemed to lose interest in the fight. She said, "Aw, the hell with it." She turned her back on La Ciudad and leaned forward as she moved to sit back down on the bench. As expected, La Ciudad leaped forward, hands raised, to attack Sarah's defenseless back. That's when Sarah threw a powerful back kick that caught the other woman square in the middle, lifted her off the deck of the van and crashed her into the van's locked door. Her head impacted with a resounding bong. La Ciudad lay crumpled on the floor of the van, unmoving.
Sometime later the van's doors were opened by Fitz, who found an unconscious La Ciudad and Sarah sitting on a bench, blood dripping from a cut on her face, wearing a contented smile.
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A/N2: It's not a mistake. Garrett is a Commander in rank, but holds the position as Captain of the Grant. She is referred to as such while in command, notwithstanding that her title is not the same as her rank. This is a perfectly normal maritime tradition.
A/N3: I want to thank the readers for their input. You have spoken, and, while it wasn't unanimous, the clear consensus seems to be that I ought to keep the arcs tied into this one story. So, I will. At least for the time being. Thanks, guys.
A/N4: Only one (relatively short) cleanup chapter left in the story of La Ciudad. Then we have to retrieve a diamond from a certain Mr. Alahi.