A/N: Two chapters in a two days? What is this world coming to?

Thanks to my beta, michaelfmx for his insightful suggestions. Any errors are mine.

Don't own Chuck. Et al.

Enjoy.

—

AT LOOSE ENDS

Chapter Sixteen

Somehow, I'm not surprised. I've always wondered if he would someday conclude that my very existence was more of a threat than an asset.

It appears that today is that day.

"How did you find out?"

"I don't have time to explain. I think he's wakin—"

The call suddenly drops. I look down at my phone. Push on the power button a couple of times.

Dead. I don't understand. I charged it just yesterday.

Chuck steps closer. There's worry in his voice. "Everything okay, Sarah?"

I don't answer. I look around. The park's confines now appear dark and threatening, in stark contrast to how they felt just a few minutes ago. And the people that had occupied the seawall earlier have all disappeared.

"We're too isolated out here."

"I don't understand."

"My boss has decided to terminate me."

He's puzzled. "Why would that be a problem? You'd already decided to quit, hadn't you?"

"Chuck, when I say terminate I mean terminate."

"You mean…"

"Yes."

Even in the moonlight, I can see his face pale.

"I guess I never thought that kinda stuff happens in real life."

"Well, it does. And if they've seen you with me, you won't be safe."

"They?"

"The hit team."

He gulps. "Oh!" He looks around uneasily, panicky as if he expects the team to materialize out of thin air.

"My damn phone just died. So, I can't call a cab. I suspect it would take them a long time to get here in any case. We need to get someplace where there's a crowd."

He's struggling to understand, but manages to suggest, "How about going back to the Teahouse?"

I shake my head. "No. They'll have probably traced the credit card I used. If they're already in the park, they'll be looking for me around there. We can't take the chance."

I crouch down and slide up the leg of my jeans. I remove all three knives. Dropping my pant leg, I stand. Two of the knives go into sheathes inside my purse. The other I keep in my right hand, hilt down, the point up my jacket sleeve, almost invisible to the untrained eye.

He's staring. "I didn't know you had those there."

I snap at him. "That's the whole point, Chuck."

He flinches. I soften my tone. "Sorry. I'm not mad at you. I just need to be prepared. And I need you to do what I say. Okay?"

He nods. "I will."

"If I tell you to run, you run. Without question."

He's reluctant. "Maybe I could help—"

"No, Chuck! These people won't fool around. If they perceive you as being any sort of threat, they will end you. Got that?"

He straightens. Pull his shoulders back. "Okay. I'll do what you say. Without question."

"I appreciate that. Is the way we're going me the quickest way to get back to someplace busy?"

"Yes. Straight ahead another mile or so. Denman Street."

"Okay, let's keep going. Don't run, but walk quickly. Stay close, but don't hold my hand anymore. Just in case we run into trouble.

"And please don't talk to me. I need to concentrate."

He nods.

We walk quickly, my eyes in constant motion, scanning our surroundings. Evaluating every hiding spot, every place where I would set up if I were them. We're still by ourselves, so I change the grip on my knife to be instantly ready for whatever comes.

Each turn in the pathway could be the place. Each time we approach one, I tense up.

But nothing happens.

I can see the lights up ahead. I can hear the faint sound of music carried on the cool breeze.

Maybe Graham's team hasn't arrived yet. Or maybe they can't be sure where I might be. It's a big park.

Or maybe Carina was wrong about what she heard.

I think we're going to make it.

We turn a particularly sharp corner. A woman approaching from the other direction stops suddenly.

She's surprised.

I stop. Surprised as well.

Alexandra Forrest. Risen from the dead.

Everything slows down.

I see the matte black pistol held down by her side, blending in with her dark clothing.

The movement of her eyes tells me that she sees my knife glinting in the moonlight.

We both know what's happening here.

She raises her weapon.

A patch of soft sand is off to my right, a foot below the seawall.

I push off Chuck, sending him tumbling over the small curb. He lands heavily with a thump. I throw myself in the other direction.

Forrest fires, the suppressor emitting only a quiet cough.

The bullet plucks at my hair as it passes.

I throw my knife, but my foot slips on a pebble as I do, so my aim is slightly off. It catches her in the shoulder, not the throat as I intended.

She grunts in pain. Her arm falls.

But, before I can rush her, she quickly shifts the pistol to her left hand.

"Stop right there, Walker. I could hardly miss at this range, even left-handed. Drop the purse and kick it away.

I follow her instructions. Show her my hands. I need to keep her talking. The pain or blood loss may cause her to slip up.

It's only now that I notice the traces of a jagged scar running from her right cheekbone down to her jaw. The right side of her mouth droops. From nerve damage, if I had to guess.

"What did Graham tell you?"

She smiles. A cruel, lopsided one tinged with pain. "That you'd gone rogue, but I knew he was lying, that he was just using that as an excuse to get rid of you.

"The truth is that you're just a loose end that needs to be cleaned up.

"But you know what? I didn't give a damn. I jumped at the chance to be on the team he sent up here. To see you finally get what you've had coming."

"What have I ever done to you, Forrest?"

She snorts. "As if you don't know."

"Why don't you educate me?"

"Okay, Walker, if that's the way you want to play it. I think I'll enjoy doing the old villain monologue bit."

She growls, "Before I kill you.

"For years, I'd groomed myself to be Graham's next enforcer. I volunteered for all the scut jobs, just to get his attention.

"I thought I had the inside track. Then out of the blue, this snot-nosed teenager comes in and takes what was rightfully mine. And afterward, you moped around Langley as if you hated what you'd become. Looking for sympathy. Acting as if you didn't like it that people feared you, that they moved out of the way when you approached."

Her voice drips sarcasm. "Oh, please pity me, the poor tortured soul.

"But I knew damn well it was all for show. That you enjoyed doing what you were doing just as much as I would've. That you enjoyed the respect just as much as I would've." She snarls. "I hate hypocrites. At least I'm honest about what I am."

"I don't suppose it would do any good to tell you that I never wanted to become what Graham turned me into."

"You're right. That's the biggest load of crap I've heard in a very long time.

"And then, of course, there's this." She gestures to the scar. "If you hadn't been Graham's little golden girl, able to pick and choose your missions, I wouldn't have been sent to work with that bastard Ryker. I wouldn't have had to kill him, and I wouldn't have been left for dead while my cheek festered along with the two slugs in my gut.

"By the time some locals found me, I was almost gone. I had no ID on me. SOP. One of Graham's cronies found me a week later at a local hospital. A delirious, fevered Jane Doe. He reported straight to Graham. Everyone else at Langley thought I was dead, so Graham decided to make it official. I got my star on the wall.

"I became a member of Graham's unofficial Black Ops team. The one he uses to take care of matters that he doesn't want to come to light. I work in the dark, literally and figuratively."

"I thought that's what you wanted, Forrest."

"What good is it without the fear and respect from others? The acknowledgment from my peers?

"Almost no one knows I'm alive. And soon you won't know either, or anything else, for that matter. Time to stop with the chit-chat and get this show on the road.

"Any last requests?"

I gesture over to the still-unmoving Chuck. He must've hit his head.

I do my best to sound casual, uncaring.

But my heart screams.

"Only one. Let the guy go. I only met him today, but the poor sap thinks I like him. In truth, I only strung him along for my amusement.

"He means nothing to me."

She stares at me for a second or two. "You know, I believe you. I don't believe you're capable of forming any sort of real attachment any more than I am."

My heart soars.

Have a good life, Chuck.

"And if it was anyone but you, I'd probably say yes."

My heart falls.

Her expression hardens. "But, even at the last, I want you to suffer a little bit more, knowing that he'll die just because of having the simple misfortune of being near you at the wrong time.

"Besides, I can use him. I'm gonna make this whole thing look like a mugging gone wrong. You managed to plant one of your knives in his chest but not before he got a shot off. So tragic.

"Say goodbye."

I see her finger start to tighten on the trigger.

…

My head hurts.

Stars swirling crazily behind tightly closed eyes.

Two people are talking, but the roar in my ears prevents me from understanding what they're saying.

Where am I?

Sarah.

Sarah pushed me over the curb when the scary-looking blonde woman with the gun suddenly appeared.

I must've hit my head on something.

The roaring stops and I hear Sarah tell the woman that I mean nothing to her, that she'd just been stringing me along for her amusement.

It feels like a knife had been driven into my heart. Until I understand that she's bargaining, trying to save my life.

Even at the cost of her own.

Remembering what she'd told me about appearing to be a threat, I don't move, just slowly open my eyes a crack.

It takes everything I have to stop myself from reacting when I see the woman pointing her pistol at Sarah.

I have to do something. I can't lose her now. So soon after coming to know that she's my life.

But what can I do?

Think.

Maybe if I suddenly stand up, that might distract the woman long enough for Sarah to get to her.

No, she would simply shoot Sarah first, knowing that I wasn't any real threat. Then she'd deal with me.

In my frustration, I dig my hands into the sand beneath me.

Then I remembered Sarah's words.

Anything can be a weapon.

When I hear, "Say goodbye", I know I have no more time. Abruptly sitting up, I fling a handful of sand at the assassin, praying that my aim will be true.

…

I know there's no way she'll miss but perhaps the shot won't be immediately fatal. Maybe I can still reach her and take her with me. At least hurt her enough to allow Chuck to run.

It's my only chance.

I catch movement from the corner of my eye. Forrest's eyes flicker to the side for a fraction of a second.

I lunge at her, keeping low.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a handful of sand hits the side of her head.

She flinches, blinks as she pulls the trigger, the shot going who knows where.

Before she can fire again, I'm on her. I slash her wrist viciously, maybe breaking it. The pistol clatters to the ground.

Grunting in pain, she swings at me with her right arm, connecting with the side of my head. But the damage from her wound has weakened the blow to the point that, in my adrenaline-ruled rage, I barely notice it.

I drive my left shoulder into her chest. We both topple to the ground with me on top. I hear the air whoosh from her lungs.

Before she can begin to catch her breath, I sit up, straddling her. I use my right hand to pull my knife from her shoulder, holding the bloodied blade to her neck. There's no sudden gush of blood from the wound. It appears I missed any major arteries.

I feel her tense below me.

"Don't make me do it, Forrest."

Her muscles relax.

"That's better. Now we can have a little chat."

"Go to hell!"

"Probably, but maybe not today."

"Sarah?" It's Chuck.

Without turning my head, I ask, anxiously, "You okay?"

"Yeah, I hit my head on a piece of driftwood. Stunned me for a bit."

Thank God.

I'm about to say his name but manage to check myself in time. I cast about for an alternative. Then I remember the family with the dogs.

"Gilbert."

It takes a moment for him to catch on. "Yes?"

"I want you to come around behind me and pick up the gun. Be careful to keep your finger away from the trigger."

I press the blade a little harder against Forrest's throat. "And you, you need to close your eyes and keep them shut. If I see so much as a blink, this knife might slip. Got that?"

"Yeah, I got it." She closes her eyes.

"Okay, Gilbert, come here and pick it up."

"Okay."

"It's heavier than I thought it'd be."

Yes, Chuck, it is. In so many ways.

Without moving my eyes from Forrest, I hold out my left hand.

"Please place the grip in my hand with the barrel facing forward."

It takes him a second or two, but then I feel the accustomed weight settle in.

I place the end of the suppressor against Forrest's forehead. Pull the knife away.

"Gilbert, I need you to keep watch. If you see anyone coming, tell me. Okay?"

He gestures behind Forrest. "I'll go over there where I can have a better angle."

"Be careful."

"I will."

A few seconds later, I hear him say, "We're clear."

"Okay, Forrest, you can open your eyes. I'm gonna stand up now. Slowly." I smirk as I add, "I could hardly miss at this range, even left-handed, so don't make any sudden moves."

I stand, keeping the pistol pointed at her head the whole time. I back off about ten feet or so.

"You can sit up now. But keep your legs straight out in front of you, and your arms out to the sides."

It's hard for her to do so, with her right arm at least partially incapacitated, and her left wrist hurting her, but she manages.

Not taking any chances, I quickly switch hands, and place the pistol in my right and the knife in my left.

From behind her, Chuck glances my way. I can tell he's worried about what might happen here.

I give him a brief reassuring smile.

"He does mean something to you, doesn't he?"

I curse myself for letting her see my weakness.

She sneers. "Did he manage to thaw the Ice Queen?"

"Shut up. If you hope to stay alive, you'll forget you ever saw him. And you'll answer my questions. And don't lie to me. I'll know if you do."

I can tell that the thought of surviving this encounter hadn't occurred to her.

The Forrest I know is nothing if not pragmatic. "Okay. What do you want to know?"

"How did you find me?"

"The tracer on your phone indicated that you were at your hotel, but just before we landed, the geeks back at Langley told us you'd used your credit card in some restaurant in the park. So we figured you'd left your phone behind.

"But by the time we got here, the intel was already an hour old. We didn't know where you'd be now. There was no record of a car rental or Uber on the card, so we thought you might be on foot, maybe on this seawall thing. So, I took one direction while one of my team took the other.

"The other one's watching your hotel, just in case we miss you."

"So, that's it. Three?"

She nods slowly. "Yeah, unless Graham sent another team without my knowledge. He was pretty pissed."

"Tell me how you contact your team."

"By phone. The range is too great for earwigs."

"Show me."

She turns her head. Shows me both ears in turn. Both are clear.

"So, no one except you knows about Gilbert?"

She doesn't answer, which is answer enough.

Take no chances.

Show no mercy.

Finish her.

Now.

Protect Chuck.

My finger tightens on the trigger.

Then I glance Chuck's way. He stands, rigidly, his eyes closed. But then he opens them. And looks right at me, with complete trust.

And love.

This is it.

The crossroads.

How many times have I told him—told myself—that I've left Agent Walker behind? That I've found my true self again. That I'm ready to move on. With him.

But all my words will be meaningless exhalations if I do this, execute this woman sitting helplessly on the ground in front of me.

Despite all the efforts we might put forth, I don't know if the us we've become could survive that.

I want him. Us. More than anything I've wanted in my entire life.

But, for that to happen, I'll have to go against all my training, my instincts.

And I'll have to leave him. I just hope I can make him understand why.

First things first.

"Okay, Forrest. This is your lucky day. I'm gonna let you live."

"Why?" She's relieved but genuinely puzzled. I know she wouldn't even think of doing the same if the situation was reversed.

"Because Agent Walker died today."

"Huh?"

"I don't expect you to understand. But you do need to understand this."

I drop my voice. I don't want Chuck to hear this. "I get that I'm fair game, but if I hear even a rumor of a rumor that you're trying to find out who was with me today, she'll rise from her grave, track you down, and end you. You got that?"

"Yeah, I got it. I ain't gonna die for a guy named Gilbert."

"I'm glad that we reached an agreement. Now, I need your phone."

She gestures toward her left jacket pocket. "Okay?"

I nod. "Slowly. Two fingers only."

She grimaces as she slowly reaches in and pulls the phone from her pocket.

"Slide it over."

The phone skitters across the pavement, stopping right in front of me. Without taking my eyes from Forrest, I stomp my boot heel into it, once, twice. The glass cracks and then shatters.

I drive my heel into it one more time for good measure.

"Okay, Forrest. I assume you have a tranq device on you."

"Yeah. Right inside jacket pocket."

"You know the drill." She reaches in again with two fingers and pulls out what looks like a pen.

"Take off the cap."

She does, exposing a needle.

"You're gonna jab yourself in the neck when I say so. No tricks, I want to see the needle go in."

"You're gonna leave me here?" She glances at her right shoulder. "I'll bleed out."

I harden my voice. "Maybe you should've thought of that possibility before you came after me.

"Besides, I didn't hit an artery, so you'll live.

"Any questions?"

"Yeah. How the hell did you know we were coming? If you hadn't had that damn knife ready, this would've already been over."

"You don't need to know."

She shrugs. Winces. "Whatever."

She gives me a long look. "You know Graham's not gonna stop. He can't now. He's in too deep. He'll just send someone else. Me probably, after I've healed. Assuming someone else hasn't already put you in the ground."

I nod. "I know."

"Your funeral."

I gesture with the pistol. "Go ahead."

She pushes the needle into her neck, grimacing as she does so.

"One more thing. After you wake up, you can tell Graham I'm coming for him."

…

I keep watch, but the seawall is clear in both directions. It seems the cool breeze that sprang up has driven people back inside.

But between checks, my attention keeps getting drawn back to the moonlit scene before me.

Sarah standing strong. The pistol in her hand, unwavering.

There's a look in her eyes that I hadn't seen until now. Steel-eyed. Almost unblinking. Her attention fixed on the woman I now know as Forrest, who sits awkwardly in front of her.

It's not a look I would ever want to be directed at me.

After I'd flung the handful of sand at Forrest, I'd been astounded by what happened next.

Sarah had moved so quickly as to almost be a blur. She'd disarmed her, knocked her over, landed on top of her, and had a knife to her throat in what seemed like one continuous motion.

It seemed as if she was going to cut the woman's throat. She's done this sort of thing before.

It's one thing to hear of violence, even to see it on the news. It's quite another to witness it firsthand.

I'd softly called out her name, hoping, praying she wouldn't go through with it.

She didn't.

Without turning her head, she'd asked if I was okay. I could see the relief in her body language when I told her I was.

When she'd called me Gilbert, it took me a second to catch on. She didn't want Forrest to know my name. Or to see me. Both for my protection.

I'd followed her instructions, handed her the pistol, and then went back to my watch position.

While constantly checking in both directions, I listen carefully to the conversation between the two of them. Hear Forrest's sneering comment on how I thawed the Ice Queen. The woman's explanation of how she found Sarah and me. Where her team was.

When Forrest's lack of response tells Sarah that no one else knows about me, I suddenly find myself holding my breath.

I've seen enough movies to know that this is the part where the hero, having ascertained the threat level, uses deadly force to summarily deal with the problem. James Bond certainly wouldn't have any compunction about putting down someone who tried to kill him.

You don't leave an enemy behind. All that does is create a scenario that'll come back to haunt you, given half a chance.

Even from where I stand, I can see Sarah's hand tighten on the pistol. The look in her eyes is similar to the one she first gave me but colder. Unreadable.

It would've been hard enough for me to deal with Sarah killing Forrest during their struggle, but this, shooting someone unarmed, seemingly helpless…

I can't watch. If I do, I know I'll never be able to rid my mind of the scene. It would haunt me.

I close my eyes.

No.

I won't do that. I will not be a coward. I will not hide in the darkness, pretending that if I didn't see it happen, it didn't happen.

I open my eyes.

This is her world. If she deems that shooting Forrest is necessary for her survival—and mine, possibly—I'll have to trust her judgment.

Would I hesitate to kill if it meant Sarah would live? I pray that I never have to answer that question.

Then I hear Sarah's voice. "Okay, Forrest. This is your lucky day. I'm gonna let you live."

The breath that I was holding in escapes in a whoosh.

"Why?"

I hear the total conviction in Sarah's reply. "Because Agent Walker died today."

Forrest has no hope of understanding just how much those words mean.

But I do.

The agent is gone.

Now there's only Sarah.

…

Her eyes roll up into her head as she slumps, falling over onto her left side.

I crouch down, put the knife and the pistol on the ground beside me. Then I carefully roll her over onto her back.

"Chuck, please bring the tissues. I need to pack her wound."

He rushes over, the packet already in his hand.

"Here, Sarah."

I unzip her coat and gently move it away from the wound. She's wearing all black, so I can't gauge how much blood there is, but the shirt is sodden.

I pick up my knife again and cut the shirt away. The puncture is steadily leaking blood but, as I suspected, not in an arterial gush. Yes, it's bad, but it won't kill her.

I look up at Chuck. He's standing right beside me, a newly opened packet of tissues in his hand.

He appears a little sickened by the sight of the blood.

The blood I've shed. Maybe, if things go as I hope, I'll feel the same someday.

After placing the pad of tissues over the wound, I slide the strap of her sports bra over to keep it in place.

I look up at him. "You okay, Chuck?"

He gives me a sickly smile as he waves my concern away, "Sure, sure. I'm good. Seen much worse at the Buy More."

I know he's exaggerating for my sake, but I ask to distract him. "Things get that crazy there?"

He nods. "You should see the trouble those idiots get into." Then he shakes his head. "On second thought, no, you shouldn't."

I give him a quick grin before looking back at Forrest. The tissues seem to be holding.

I'm sure she has several other weapons secreted on her person, but I don't bother looking for them. I'll just let her try to explain them when she wakes up.

"Okay, we're done." I reach for his hand.

"Sarah, your hands."

I look down at them. They're covered in blood.

"Give me a minute, Chuck.

Picking up the knife, I step over the curb and quickly walk across the sand to the water.

Bending down, I wash the blood away in the gently lapping waves. Both from my knife and my hands, hoping that I'll never again have to repeat such a procedure.

And praying that he'll never again have to witness anything like this.

I stand and shake my hands, trying to rid them of the water. But Chuck is there, offering me tissues from the other pack he'd bought earlier. My purse is suspended from his arm. In his free hand, he carefully holds the pistol, his finger well away from the trigger as I had instructed.

I gratefully take the tissues from him and dry my hands. Then the knife.

He offers me my purse.

"Hold on a moment, Chuck. I need to do one more thing."

Going over to Forrest again, I pat down her jacket pockets, then extract the two spare magazines I find there.

"Okay, that'll do it."

I walk back to Chuck and hold out my hand.

He gives me my purse. I settle the strap on my shoulder and place the knife and the two magazines inside.

Then he tentatively hands me the gun. I rapidly detach the suppressor, putting it in my purse as well.

After checking to make sure the safety is on, I lift the back of my jacket and slip the pistol into my waistband. Not the most comfortable place for it, but it'll have to do.

I go up on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. "Thank you, Chuck."

I pause, looking into his eyes. "For everything."

He shrugs, modestly. "The least I could do."

I take a long look around. We're still clear. "We need to get going, find a phone. I have to call the paramedics for Forrest. I just wish my damn phone hadn't died. I charged it just yesterday."

"Can I take a look at it?"

"Why?"

"Stuff like that is my world, Sarah. Maybe there's something I can do."

"I hope you can." I dig it out of my purse and hand it to him.

He turns it over a couple of times in his hand.

"Ah! The Intellicell. This model has a little screw that pops loose."

He pops off the battery cover, holding it in his mouth. Then he fishes a set of keys out of his jacket pocket. On the ring, there's a small screwdriver which he uses to tighten a silver screw on the back of the phone.

He puts away the keys, takes the cover from his mouth, slides it back in place, and then hands the phone back to me.

"That should do it. Give it a try."

I press the power button and hear the familiar chime.

I smile, gratefully. "Good job, Chuck."

"Thanks."

…

"Do you know where we are, Chuck?'

I look around to get my bearings. I see the glimmer of a swimming pool up ahead.

I point. "That's the Second Beach pool. We're about 100 yards west of it."

Nodding, she dials 911 and waits for the answer. Then in a frightened, almost child-like voice, she pleads, "Hurry, please! There's a woman who's hurt just west of the Second Beach pool. On the seawall. Two men were fighting with her. I was scared and ran away. Please hurry!"

She disconnects and puts the phone in her jacket pocket.

"Okay, let's get moving. We can't get caught up in all this."

She takes my hand again. We're five minutes clear when we hear the first sirens. Up on the road to our left, a police car goes by, lights flashing, then an ambulance.

We keep on walking quickly, putting more distance between us and the people aiding Forrest.

Her phone rings again. She stops and pulls it out again, then looks at the screen.

"Carina."

"I'll go over there." I start to release her hand, but she just grips mine more tightly.

"No, Chuck. Stay."

I nod.

She accepts the call and brings the phone to her ear.

"Carina."

Pause.

"No, I'm fine. The phone just died. Thanks for the warning."

A longer pause.

"Yes, I'm going to do that right now. Omaha."

A very long pause.

"Okay, thanks for the heads up."

A short pause.

"You take care, too. Bye."

She disconnects. Then stares at the phone for a few seconds before putting it away again.

…

I look up at Chuck.

"Carina is secretly sleeping with a member of Graham's inner circle. She figured that she could get some useful intel from him that might help her career. It seems the man talks in his sleep, induced by a little something she puts in his drink. Tonight, he muttered some almost incoherent stuff about Vancouver, a hit team, and the Ice Queen finally getting hers."

I shrug. "She knows about my nickname, so once she confirmed I was in Vancouver, she put it all together."

"So her…proclivities…helped to save your life."

"Our lives, Chuck. Carina can be a royal pain, but we look out for each other. She's a good friend."

He nods his agreement. "Sarah, I heard Forrest say that Graham would have no choice but to keep after you."

I nod. "He can't stop until I'm silenced, Chuck."

"Why?"

"If I had to guess, it's about something that I know that I don't know I know. Graham's being grilled by a Senate subcommittee. They probably started pulling at a thread that Graham doesn't want pulled. Something dangerous to him. And he believes that whatever I know could unravel the whole thing. The whole scenario probably caught him off-guard, so he hurriedly sent Forrest and her team to take me out.

"And that team's failure is another reason he can't stop now. He's committed."

He's angry. No, furious. "How can he get away with that, Sarah? It's gotta be illegal as hell!"

"It's all a matter of spin. I suspect his story will go something like this.

"Agent Walker refused to acknowledge the summons she received to appear before this subcommittee. When I sent a team up to Vancouver to bring her in, she almost killed one of the team members in a violent, unprovoked attack. Regretfully, Agent Sarah Walker is now to be viewed as a rogue agent, one who is armed and extremely dangerous. Deadly force is thus authorized if she won't come in peacefully."

He shakes his head in disgust. Then with no preamble, he asks, distress in his eyes, "You'll have to leave. Run."

I'm thankful that he broached the subject. However, that isn't going to make this any less painful.

"Yes, Chuck. I have to go deep. Tonight."

"But you can't go back to your room. She said a guy is waiting there."

"I know."

He spirals, his concern for me spilling over. "What about your clothes and stuff? Your passport? Will Graham freeze your accounts? How will you get by? Where will you—"

"Chuck, stop.

"Every agent worth their salt knows that one day they might get burned. So we prepare in advance. We make sure we have another identity set up, with all the necessary documentation. And funds we can access. All done on the q.t.

"I have all the basic items in a secret compartment in my purse. Enough to get me out of here to one of the safe houses I set up years ago. Someplace to lay low."

"But you're not just going to lay low, are you? I heard you tell Forrest that you'll be going after Graham."

"Yes. I have no choice."

He pauses, asks, "What are you going to do to him, Sarah?"

What will I do? The person I once was would have answered brute force with brute force.

Savagery with savagery.

But I'm not her anymore.

"The expedient thing would be to take him out. And I could do that easily. He can't hide from me."

I hear the firm conviction in his voice. "But you're not going to do that."

I look at him closely, a little surprised by his accurate insight even though, given today, I shouldn't be.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Even if there was nothing else—and trust me, there's been so much more—the way you took care of Forrest would convince me that you're no longer the person who would simply eliminate Graham."

"What do you mean?"

"Sarah, the woman tried to kill you. Yet, you took care of her, tending to her wound, making sure she'd be looked after. And you were surprisingly gentle with her. Even though she didn't deserve any of that."

I think back. He's right. The woman I was wouldn't have felt any need to carry out any of those actions for someone as brutal as Alexandra Forrest.

Welcome to your new world, Sarah.

…

"Sarah, what other choice do you have?"

She's thoughtful. "I'll have to find a way to bring him down, to expose him for what he is. I'm not sure how I'm going to go about it. My word alone won't be enough."

She lets out a one-note humorless chuckle. "After all, I'm a disgraced rogue ex-agent. Who'd believe me?"

I quietly state, "Maybe I could help"

"What do you mean?"

"I know this sounds like an oxymoron, but I'm a well-known anonymous figure in the hacking world, Sarah."

I hesitate. "They call me the Piranha."

Her eyes widen. Her jaw drops.

It's the first time I've seen her genuinely shocked.

She sputters, "You…you, you're the Piranha?!"

"Yes."

"The CIA and NSA are still looking for him, even though he went silent a few years ago."

"Yeah, I promised Ellie I wouldn't do that kinda stuff anymore. In her defense, she didn't know the extent of it. I never stole anything or held anyone for ransom. I just wanted to prove I could do it.

I shrug. "I guess it was an effort to gain back some of my self-respect. The same self-respect I lost after Stanford."

She shakes her head in wonder.

"No one else knows I'm the Piranha. Not even Ellie. Or Morgan. Just you."

Her eyes widen again. "You trust me that much?"

"Yes, Sarah I do. Even though bringing me in might do a lot to restore your reputation at Langley."

She goes up on her tiptoes and quickly kisses me on the lips.

"Thank you, Chuck, that means a lot to me. More than I can say."

Then she shakes her head. "But I can't let you get involved in this. It'd be too dangerous. For you, and anyone close to you."

"But you're close to me, Sarah. How can I just stand by and do nothing when I could help you?"

"Chuck—"

I'm firm. "No, Sarah. There has to be a way. Maybe I could dig up stuff that you could use against him."

"No."

I plead. "Please let me do this."

She wavers, then sighs. "Okay, Chuck. You'd do it anyway, even without my permission."

She knows me well.

"However, it won't be safe to contact me directly. We'll have to use a cutout. Carina. We set up several options in case either of us had to go on the run. Protocols in place to keep in contact with each other. To help the other out."

"Omaha was one of the plans?"

"Yes. I'll let her know that you're going to contact her. Only remotely. To set up a way to get whatever you find to me through her. You can do all that securely?"

"Absolutely. Just give me Carina's number."

She does. I memorize it instantly. I'm good with numbers.

She sighs again. "I still don't like this, Chuck. If Graham gets even the slightest notion that you're helping me…"

"Are you worried that Forrest will tell him about me being with you, that they'll find a way to identify me?"

"There's little chance of that. She only got a glimpse of you before I shoved you out of the way and attacked her. And the light was behind you. Also, the tranq she injected herself with makes short-term memory a little fuzzy.

"No, what I'm concerned about is him finding you snooping around in his files."

"He won't, Sarah. Trust me, I'm that good. And with what's at stake, I'll be extra careful."

"Please make sure. The thought that you might get hurt because of this…"

She chokes up. I take her into my embrace. Hold her tightly.

I murmur in her ear. "I'll be alright, Sarah. You just concentrate on protecting yourself and getting that bastard."

I draw my head back and look into her tear-stained eyes.

I smile, put on a brave front even though my heart is shattering into tiny little pieces.

Please take me with you.

That's what I want to say. But I know it can't happen.

"Then, when it's all done, Sarah, you come back to me, and we'll pick up where we left off. Okay?"

…

The knowledge that I'll soon be leaving him is an almost unbearable weight on my chest, making it hard to even breathe.

But he's doing his best to be brave. So must I.

"Chuck, one year from today. At the place we first met. Same time."

I hear the disappointment in his voice, see it in his eyes. "That long?"

"Yes, Chuck. I can't come back until I can be certain that it's safe. For you. For us."

He acquiesces. "Okay. A year. I'll be there."

I pause to make sure I have his attention. "Chuck, if I don't show up—"

"You will, Sarah!"

I somehow push through, even though the thought of never seeing him again almost robs me of the ability to speak. "If I don't show up, it won't be because I didn't want to be there. With you."

He swallows heavily. He understands the implications of my words.

"If that happens, promise me that you'll forget about me. Move on. Find some nice girl to marry and raise a family."

He shakes his head, his tone vehement. "No, it wouldn't be possible to forget you, so I can't—I won't—make that promise. You'll be there. You will. I know it.

"Promise me, Sarah."

My heart can't fight him anymore.

I nod, even though there's no more than an even chance that I'll be able to keep my word.

"Yes, Chuck, I promise."

He kisses me.

"Good. I'll see you in a year."

"A year."

I look around. The lights and sounds of Denman Street are only a block away.

"Chuck, I'll have to leave you here. There may be surveillance cameras up ahead that Graham could tap into. And there could be someone from Forrest's team or some other team on the lookout."

…

The ache in my chest is almost unbearable.

"Yes, that makes sense."

I hold her close one last time. Kiss her, softly, urgently, desperately.

She kisses me back, softly, urgently, desperately.

"I love you, Sarah Walker."

"And I love you, Chuck Bartowski."

I loosen my embrace. She steps out of it reluctantly. Tearfully.

I try to burn her image into my brain, inwardly angry that I won't even have so much as a photo of her as a keepsake, all due to my carelessness in forgetting to charge my damn phone.

"Go."

I close my eyes, just for a second. When I open them again, she's vanished, almost as if she never was.

I wipe away my tears as I speak to the wind. "Goodbye, Sarah. Godspeed."

TBC

—A/N: One more to go. With my beta right now.

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