Chapter 13 – Day Three, 2:56 PM

Chapter 13 – Day Three, 2:56 PM

Sarah headed home for the afternoon while Casey kept watch over Devon and Ellie at the hospital. Two agents escorted Chuck back to his apartment. He desperately needed to clear his head. Too much was swirling around at once. Sarah. Bryce. Mariana. Then there was his family. His friends. All in danger again because of Bryce Larkin. Chuck hated how Bryce always managed to ruin his life—even when he wasn't around. A shower seemed like the best idea.

The hot water helped a little. Chuck wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped out of the bathroom. "Don't make a sound."

The voice came from the hallway. Chuck froze. Mariana stood in his apartment, a pistol trained directly on him. The only sound Chuck managed was a startled squeak. "Okay… that's… actually a perfectly reasonable request." He forced himself to keep talking, buying time. "W-What are you doing here?"

Still wrapped in nothing but a towel, water droplets rolled down his shoulders. But it wasn't the cool air that sent a chill through him. It was the gun. Mariana didn't move. She was entirely too calm. "The deadline is almost up," she said. "And I still don't have what I want."

Chuck instinctively tightened his grip on the towel. "I can get you the briefcase!" he blurted out. "Just… don't hurt anyone."

Mariana stepped closer. Her eyes slowly traveled over him. "We'll see, Mr. Bartowski." She tilted her head slightly. "It depends… what kind of mood I'm in."

Chuck tried not to panic. He failed. "You're coming with me."

Chuck blinked. "With you… where?"

Mariana let the silence linger. "Somewhere we'll finally get some answers."

Chuck's heart skipped a beat. "Why me?"

A flicker crossed Mariana's eyes. "Because you're the key."

Silence. Chuck swallowed. "Yeah… I'm liking this less and less."

Mariana leaned closer. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. Colder. "Get dressed."

Chuck nodded. "Okay… um… would you mind turning around?"

One eyebrow rose. "Seriously?"

"Look… this is already one of the weirdest situations I've ever been in. I'm just trying to salvage a tiny bit of dignity here."

For a long moment she simply stared at him. Then—to Chuck's genuine surprise—she turned halfway around. "Thirty seconds."

Chuck's hands trembled as his mind raced. Okay. Think. Sarah. Casey. Find a way to tell them. He hurried into a T-shirt and jeans. Then he stopped. His phone lay on the bed. One quick motion. He slipped it into his pocket. I hope they notice. "I'm ready."

Mariana turned back and silently looked him over. "Let's go." She gestured toward the door with her pistol.

Chuck started walking. Every step felt heavier than the last. The front door opened. The courtyard outside was empty. Too empty. The two agents were gone. Chuck glanced back one last time. "Just so we're clear…" he said quietly, "…this is the part where I get kidnapped, right?"

A faint smile crossed Mariana's lips. "I'd put it differently." She stepped closer. "This is where the truth finally begins." The muzzle of her pistol pressed lightly against his back. "Move."

Chuck stepped outside… and tried very hard not to panic.

West Side Medical always felt too clean. Too sterile. Too peaceful. Casey knew better. It was only the surface. The fluorescent lights hummed steadily overhead. Every footstep echoed through the corridors. There was nothing alive about the place. That made it predictable. Controllable. Casey pushed a mop bucket down the hallway with his head lowered. A fake mustache rested above his upper lip, and he wore a janitor's uniform. The bucket's wheels squeaked softly across the polished floor. Anyone looking at him would see a tired maintenance worker counting the minutes until the end of his shift. No one looked twice. From one of the operating rooms came Devon's voice—calm, professional, slightly tired. At the far end of the hallway, Ellie reviewed patient charts and occasionally spoke with someone passing by. A perfectly ordinary afternoon. Casey paused for a moment. The polished floor reflected the ceiling lights in distorted streaks. Something wasn't right. A nurse walked past and nodded politely. "Good afternoon, sir."

"You too," Casey muttered. His voice sounded just different enough behind the fake mustache to sell the disguise.

The nurse continued on. Casey resumed mopping. But he wasn't watching the floor anymore. He watched reflections. Movement. Rhythm. Then he saw him. A stranger. Wearing civilian clothes beneath a white lab coat. He didn't belong. He moved too slowly. Too deliberately. He was heading toward the elevators. He never looked around. That was his mistake. Casey quietly leaned the mop against the wall. It squeaked softly. The elevator button lit up. Casey started walking. Never hurried. He never hurried. At the corner of the hallway, the overhead light briefly hid his face. When he stepped back into view… he no longer looked much like a janitor. Just a man who had decided someone had pushed the wrong button. The elevator doors began to open. The stranger still hadn't looked behind him. "Afternoon," Casey said quietly.

The man turned. "Yeah?"

Too late. The elevator doors slid fully open. Empty. Casey moved instantly. Fast. Clean. Efficient. Then… silence. Casey glanced inside the elevator. "Cleaning in progress," he muttered.

He stepped back as though nothing had happened. The mop still waited against the wall. The hallway slipped back into its normal rhythm. Devon's voice drifted out from surgery once again. Ellie laughed at something a nurse had said. Casey returned to his bucket… and kept mopping. As if the world hadn't just become one layer quieter. "Casey." Sarah's voice crackled through his earpiece. "Chuck isn't answering. I can't reach Stevenson or Ray either."

"Bartowski," Casey growled. "Last known location?"

"He isn't wearing the watch," Sarah replied. "But his phone is still transmitting." A beat. "They took him to the harbor."

"I can't leave my position," Casey said immediately. "I'm calling in a SWAT team."

A brief pause. "Be careful, Walker."

Chuck was shoved into the back of a black cargo van, and a hood was pulled over his head. When it finally came off, Mariana was standing in front of him. He blinked against the dim light. A dark warehouse. His wrists were tied to a chair. "So…" Chuck swallowed. "This is the part where you torture me?"

"Not the worst idea," Mariana said with the faintest smile. She stepped close enough that Chuck caught the scent of her perfume. It was soft. Floral. Gentle. Completely at odds with the woman wearing it. "But no. I don't need to break you." Her eyes studied him. "You're the talkative type." She leaned in. "Tell me what you know about Bryce Larkin."

Chuck hesitated. "Well… he went to Stanford." A beat. "And he stole my girlfriend."

Mariana sighed. "Interesting." Another pause. "Not remotely what I meant." "Where is Larkin? I know you and your little friends know he's alive. Fulcrum is looking for him too." "They're saying he uploaded a supercomputer into someone's brain."

Chuck shook his head. "I honestly don't know where he is. I haven't seen him in years."

"Don't lie to me." Her voice turned colder. "My patience has limits."

Silence settled between them. "We'll get to the point where torture starts sounding like the better option."

A long moment passed. Then Mariana spoke again. "You may be my only chance."

Chuck frowned. "My only chance to find Larkin."

And just like that… the interrogation changed direction. "What exactly do you know about Guatemala?"

Chuck swallowed. "The report says… you disappeared near the end of the operation."

Mariana let out a bitter laugh. "How official. It didn't mention the cartel captured me? Or that Bryce Larkin and his little girlfriend betrayed me and left me to rot in the jungle?" She tapped the left side of her chest. "Or maybe that Bryce was my boyfriend? That certainly wasn't in there."

She looked directly into Chuck's eyes. "Neither was the little souvenir he gave me." Her finger rested over an old scar beneath her shirt. "It wasn't a fatal shot. But it was more than enough."

Chuck's stomach tightened. None of that had been in the files. "By the time I crawled out of that hellhole… …and found out he'd hooked up with Rebecca and was happily vacationing in Cabo…" She smiled without warmth. "You can imagine how angry I was." A pause. "I'm not quite that angry anymore." She stressed every word. "Now I simply want revenge." "On Bryce Larkin." "And Rebecca Franco." She tilted her head. "Or Sarah Walker." "Whatever she calls herself these days."

Chuck took a careful breath. "Mariana…"

She looked at him. "You don't really want them." Silence. "You want the truth."

Something shifted in her expression. "The truth…" she repeated quietly.

Chuck nodded. "And maybe… …maybe someone told you the wrong story."

A long silence followed. Finally, Mariana took a step back. She didn't relax. She didn't lower her guard. But somehow… the threat felt just a little less immediate. "Then prove it."

Chuck swallowed. For the first time… this didn't feel like an interrogation anymore. It felt like a negotiation. Chuck managed a nervous smile. "Look… We both hate Bryce Larkin. So, technically… …that kind of makes us teammates."

"I fail to see how that helps."

Chuck shrugged. "There's an old saying. 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.'"

"I don't have friends."

That was when Chuck caught movement in the darkness behind her. Sarah. Slipping silently through the shadows. "Oh, come on," Chuck said, desperately trying to keep Mariana talking. "There has to be somebody you consider a friend."

"I'm tired of this." Her voice sharpened. "Where is Larkin?"

She raised the pistol toward Chuck. Sarah exploded from the shadows. A spinning kick sent the handgun flying across the warehouse. At that exact moment, gunfire erupted outside. Mariana reacted instantly. She snapped her elbow backward. Sarah barely slipped past it, missing a direct hit to the head by inches. Then the two women collided. Punches. Kicks. Blocks. Counters. The fight exploded into a blur of motion. Mariana grabbed Sarah's ponytail and yanked her to the concrete floor. She drove a kick toward her— Sarah rolled clear just in time. Chuck barely managed to follow the exchange. The next instant, Mariana caught Sarah's arm, pivoted with flawless technique, and launched her with a textbook judo throw. Sarah flew straight into Chuck. Chair and all crashed onto the warehouse floor. The impact echoed through the room. Then everything went black.

"Chuck…" Sarah's voice came from somewhere far away. "Chuck, wake up."

The ceiling drifted in and out of focus until Sarah's worried face came into view. Her lower lip was swollen and split, and a dark bruise had already begun to bloom across her left cheekbone. "Chuck, are you okay?"

He blinked several times. "Yeah…" He winced. "My God, Sarah… what happened?"

"You blacked out when Mariana threw me into you…" She paused, a metallic taste filling her mouth. Sarah wiped a streak of blood from the corner of her lips with the back of her hand. "Did she get away?"

"She did." Chuck carefully slipped an arm around Sarah's waist, helping her to her feet. Together they made their way toward the exit. "I think…" Sarah muttered with a tired grimace, "…I could use some rest."

Sarah tried to say goodbye at the door of her apartment, but Chuck refused to leave her in that condition. The apartment was immaculate. Almost painfully so. Everything was perfectly organized. There wasn't a single photograph. Not a single souvenir. Nothing that hinted a person actually lived there. "Go home, Chuck. The tactical team will stay around your house tonight. Everyone's safe."

"No way." Chuck shook his head. "Look at yourself. Mariana practically beat you to death."

"Don't worry." Sarah managed a faint smile. "I've been through worse."

"Of course I'm worried." His voice softened. "You're important to me."

Sarah held his gaze for a long moment. "That's exactly why I need you to go home and get some sleep." She reached for his hand. "We'll need you tomorrow. We still have to figure all of this out." She squeezed his fingers gently. "Trust me, Chuck."

Reluctantly, he nodded. Every instinct told him not to leave. All he wanted was to wrap his arms around her and never let go. Instead… he quietly said goodnight and walked away.

The moment Chuck disappeared down the hallway, Sarah stepped into the shower. She simply stood beneath the water. The hot stream rolled over her shoulders… across her ribs… down her bruises… over skin that had already begun turning blue and purple, and would be even darker by the morning. She let it happen. She didn't count the bruises. She didn't assess the damage. Tomorrow. She rested her forehead against the cool tile. Mariana. She shouldn't have been surprised. Deep down… she had always known Mariana was alive. Bryce had said she'd died. Had he lied? Or had he believed it himself? Sarah had never been able to answer that question. And that was the worst part. When it came to Bryce… she no longer knew where conviction ended… and convenience began. Or what had been true from the very beginning.

"The cartel killed Mariana." That's what Bryce had said as he stepped out through the smoke. Quickly. Professionally. "One less problem." Rebecca Franco had simply nodded. Rebecca completed missions. Rebecca had no family. No attachments. Nothing to lose. Rebecca was safe.

Now, as the water washed dried blood from her hair… something inside her cracked. Something she refused to let happen. She forced herself to stay in the present. Not the past. Then Chuck's face appeared in her mind. His smile. The particular smile he wore whenever he was pretending to be brave… while absolutely terrified. He'd worn it tonight. Tied to that chair. "You're important to me." She had simply said it. No cover story. No surveillance cameras. No bugs. No pretending.

Tears welled up before she could stop them. That irritated her more than anything. She wasn't crying because of Mariana. Or Bryce. She was crying because Chuck Bartowski told her the truth every single day… while she lied to him all the time. Why does everything have to be so complicated? She loved him. She had known about it for a long time. She had simply refused to say the words. Because once spoken… they would become real. And once something is real… it can be lost. The water gradually cooled. Sarah never moved.

Chuck collapsed onto his bed without even changing clothes. Ellie and Captain Awesome were already asleep. He lay staring at the ceiling, thinking about Sarah. Her smile. Her warmth. The way she felt beside him. His phone vibrated. A text message. "Everything okay, Chuck?" A sad smile crossed his face. He began typing. "No. Nothing's okay. I'm tired of pretending we can't be together. I'm crazy about you. And I'm terrified of losing you." His thumb hovered over the Send button. Then he deleted every word. Instead, he sent only: "I'm okay. Good night, Sarah."