A/N: The timeline for this story is just after "Quarantine."

Many thanks go out to Lone-Ranger1 for brain-storming, assistance with Betas, suggestions, ideas, outline for the story, the distinctly Canadian "cultural" references and, of course, his friendship.

Gracias,

Sunny

Chuck's Canadian Crime Connection

Chapter 2

The Creation of the Chuck

Colonel Carter's Office

Later That Same Day

"Um, what?" Carter's jaw dropped open. If it hadn't been securely fastened to her head, it would have hit the floor.

"That's what he said, and I believe him." Sheppard was next to Carter's chair with his hips leaning on the desk. She was turned toward him, her chair tilted back, rocking slightly. "He showed me a video."

"And you're still sending him on this op?" Her blue eyes telegraphed her disbelief.

"Of course." His tone said it should have been a given. "Well, he said he was sorry…"

Carter smirked. "…in that cute Canadian way?"

"I wouldn't have put it quite like that, but yeah." He pushed off the desk and gestured with both hands. "His family didn't have much money. That's how he paid for the part of his education not covered by scholarships or grants. An education that we make use of on a daily basis, I might add. We already trust him with everything to do with Atlantis, and he has proven himself admirably since the beginning. He can do this."

Carter conceded. "When are they leaving?"

"He's gonna send an email to his contact today. We're looking at two, maybe three days at most to get everything set up here and at the SGC. Doc Jackson is helping, and General Landry is running interference with the IOA." His mouth tried to grin. He made a supreme effort to stop, but it was a losing battle.

Carter sighed. "What?"

"What what?" Sheppard tried to look innocent, but Carter knew him and wasn't buying it.

"That look."

"What look? I don't have any special look."

"John!" Her tone was a gentle reprimand, and her smile deviously sweet.

He pretended to finally get it because Carter with a shrewd smile was much too dangerous to ignore. "Oh, you mean the there's-something-I'm-not-telling-you-and-you're-gonna-love-it look?"

"Yeah, that one."

"It's his contact's real name." He tried to keep a straight face while he told his superior Blitz's given name, and they both dissolved into spasms of hilarity.

~~O~~

Amelia turned to watch Sheppard and Carter laughing hysterically inside the Colonel's not-so-soundproof glass enclosed office. Her own brows were pinched in confusion. "Hey, Campbell, whatdya think they're talkin' about that's so funny?"

The Senior Gate Tech followed her gaze and smiled. "I'm guessing he just told her Blitz's real name."

He knew it was coming, and Amelia obliged him by giggling. "Oh, God, I can't wait to meet her!"

His smile faded away. "I'm glad one of us is happy about this."

"Oh, come on. This is your chance to put the spirits of indiscretions past to rest. Unfortunately, you can't use a proton pack to get rid of these kinds of ghosts." She walked over and stood in front of him looking up into his brown eyes. "That's why you have me."

"And I am more grateful than I can ever express." Chuck's smile returned. He lowered his voice, and leaned close. "If it wouldn't look unprofessional, do you know what I'd do to you right now?"

Amelia's face twisted in thought. "Give me noogies?"

He laughed out loud. "Exactly!"

The USAF Sergeant scurried back to her workstation. "Have to catch me first!"

~~O~~

Chuck sat at the desk in his quarters, his non-networked tablet beside him with his and Sheppard's grand plan for catching Blitz and her team. He was trying to compose an email that would be informative, yet vague. He decided to be short, and to the point just as she had been.

"Blitz,

To say that I was surprised to hear from you after so long would be an understatement! Let's meet at The Coffee Shoppe this coming Thursday at the usual time. We can talk over old times and catch up.

TTYS,

Sneaker"

His hand hovered over the send key then tapped it quickly, before he could change his mind. He wanted to do this, to give back in some small way to the people he'd been lying to for all these years. This undercover op was how he would make peace with himself, at least partially. He would use this opportunity to justify the faith of Colonels Carter and Sheppard as well as the rest of the expedition.

Going into the bathroom he showered, brushed and flossed his teeth then stood looking at his reflection. Holding up an imaginary gun in both hands he said, "Campbell. Charles Campbell, intergalactic spy, and all around good guy, at your service." He blew on the end of his "gun", and laughed at himself as he went into the bedroom, changed into his pj's, and went to bed.

He was just about to drop off when a loud banging brought him to a sitting position. What the hell…? Kicking the covers off, he padded to the door in his bare feet. The door slid open to show the less than thrilled face of his friend, Alicia Vega.

"Leesh, it's 0130. What…"

"Cut the small talk, Sergeant! I wanna know what's going on with you, the Colonels and that…newbie!" Chuck could only stare as the dark-haired woman pushed past him into the room without an invitation. "Now!" He offered her a seat and she sat down with her knees and arms crossed obstinately. "Well?"

"It's a long story." Chuck sat on the side of the bed, yawned and rubbed his eyes with one hand.

"Then just give me the, oh, ****. What'd you call it? The Cole's Notes version. I've got a mission in the morning, and need my beauty sleep." Chuck opened his mouth to make a smart remark but she raised a finger in warning. He smiled and began telling his story for the third time in the last twenty-four hours.

~~O~~

"…We leave in two days."

Vega was quiet for all of five seconds. "You think Sheppard's still up?"

"Why?"

I'm coming with you."

She reached for her headset, and he grabbed her hand. "No! He can't know that I told you. I just gave you classified information. I've never done that before for any reason, and I'm only telling you now because I trust you to keep it quiet. And you might hurt me if I don't. Sheppard or Carter finds out, and it might just be the straw that breaks the Colonel's backs. I really will end up in prison, or worse."

"Cabeza de Camote! What can be worse than prison?"

Chuck wished she would stop using Spanish phrases. He never knew if he should be flattered, insulted, or offended. Though from her expression it was the latter. "If I went to prison, I'd at least be with strangers, and wouldn't see the disappointment on the faces of my family and friends, people who trusted me not to lie to them. That would be worse than prison."

Reluctantly, Vega gave in. "Tiene un punto." She grabbed his tablet, quickly tapped a few keys, and handed it back.

What she'd written confused him. "What's a Dusty Mehra?"

"She's a friend, an Air Force Sergeant with the SGC. You might need some muscle while you're there. Call her. She's on a month's leave, and loves a good fight. She's also a bit of a talker so, if she gets on your nerves, just give her some gum when you wanna shut her up."

"Okay. Thanks." They stood and he walked her to the door. Over his shoulder on the desk she could see a giant unopened brown bottle with a white label. Ay dios mio! He's got a Texas Mickey!

"Da nada, Borrachito!" He didn't know what she'd said now or before, and was too tired to ask. He waved as she disappeared around the corner, and went back to bed. It was strange, but he was feeling better than before she'd disturbed him. It was good to have friends.

Three Days Later

Chuck looked at his reflection in the mirror. For almost four years he'd worn nothing but his uniform or khakis and a plain t-shirt. It was odd to see himself in blue jeans, a t-shirt with "May the m x a be with you!" emblazoned across the front, black motorcycle boots, and a hooded jacket. He kept telling himself to forget his service training and just chill. It was a work in progress. Amelia's better at this than me. I'm gonna trash the entire operation by saying something stupid. I just know it.

He picked up his bags, and headed for the Gate Room.

~~O~~

Amelia hefted her bag, and went to stand next to her friend, and co-conspirator. She was dressed similarly to him in a plain white long-sleeved top with a scooped neck, and her hair in a pony tail. Usually her ears were unadorned, but now she had huge hoops in them as well as a braided chain necklace.

Carter and Sheppard were there to see them off. "Good luck." Carter shook hands with them. "And remember, Sergeants, this op is like a parachute…"

"…it has to work the first time," Sheppard finished for her.

"Yes, ma'am, sir," Chuck responded, and Amelia nodded.

Their commander nodded to the staff members who were taking their places, and one by one the chevrons engaged. A whoosh, and it was time to go. Chuck and Amelia walked toward the 'gate, and through the blue puddle illusion. The 'gate shut down, Carter and Sheppard shared a look, and then went their separate ways.

SGC - Cheyenne Mountain Complex

Earth

Chuck and Amelia were met by Walter Harriman, who conducted them to the briefing room. Chuck told Landry everything he knew about Blitz and why he thought she wanted to break into the SGC's data systems. Landry had a hard copy printed from the information sent by Carter, though he preferred to hear it first hand.

Landry and Walter took turns going over their part of the plan that included what type of information they would be allowing Chuck to "steal" on behalf of Blitz and her team, and how he would go about "hacking" it. The information was mostly obsolete, on the verge of being declassified by the US government. They agreed on a cover story for where Chuck had been the last few years, a story that caused more than a few facepalms, then were given phones and computers.

Walter took them to the plane that would take them to New York where they would then drive to Little Falls to meet with Dusty. First, they had to find out if she would help.

Once on the tarmac, Chuck dialed the number he'd committed to memory. "Hello. My name is Chuck. May I please speak to Dusty? Dusty? My name is Chuck. I'm a friend of Alicia Vega… She said you might be up for a little adventure... We're… Don't you want details? Uh, okay… Make sure your passport is in order, pack your civvies, and we'll pick you up… We'll call when we get close."

~~O~~

Hours later, Amelia was driving the black SUV while Chuck called Dusty. She could only hear his side of the conversation again, and it bugged the **** out of her. Her foot came down on the gas in annoyance, pushing their speed past eighty.

"… We're almost there… Amelia… 1300… Thanks again for your help." He ended the call, and tucked the phone into his jacket pocket.

"Do we really need more muscle? You and I can handle anything that comes up. Who is she anyway?"

He shrugged. "Leesh wanted to come, but couldn't get away, so she suggested Dusty. I didn't ask, but I think she's a cousin. And I'm not casting aspersions upon your ability to kick ass, Banks. You know you're good, I know you're good, but we don't want them to know it until we absolutely have to." He popped the top on a bottle of water and took a swig. "Think of her as back-up. While you and I are getting the goods on them, she can be keeping an eye on any muscle they have."

She was appeased by his explanation, and her foot eased off the gas, allowing the car to slow down to a speed closer to the limit. "Nice save, Campbell. There's a part of our story that needs work. We need to stop callin' each other 'Banks' and 'Campbell.' Our cover is that we were discharged from the service because we got caught having sex on the commander's desk."

Chuck winced, and resisted laughing, but not by much. "Yeah. So?"

Amelia snickered. General Hank Landry had a twisted sense of humor. "We're still together so we obviously have…" she took her hands off the steering wheel for a split second to make air quotes "…feelings for each other. How about pet names?"

He shrugged again. "Okay. What do you suggest?"

Amelia's face twisted as she tried not to smile. "What if I call you Mountie?"

"Not lovin' it, but I'll take it. And I'll call you Spunky!"

She eyed him suspiciously. "As long as it's just for the mission."

"Got it, Banks. I mean, Spunky."

"Any time, Mountie."

The Mehra Home

Little Falls, New York

They pulled up in front of a white two-story house with a pine shingle roof, and wrap-around porches on both floors. The yard was neat, and a dog of indeterminate parentage and age lounged in the grass not far from an orange tabby whose tail swished lazily back and forth in the early afternoon sunshine. Lots of work and love went into the care of this home.

Amelia parked the car. They got out, and climbed the steps to knock on the screen door. It was answered almost immediately by a slender, fiftyish woman. She had short black hair shot with strands of white. She was wearing khaki slacks, an ancient Columbia University sweatshirt and work boots. A bright smile lit up her face. "Hello."

"My name is Chuck. Dusty is expecting us." Chuck indicated his companion. "This is Amelia." They shook hands all around.

"I'm pleased to meet you. Dusty seldom brings her friends to the house. She's in the back tending the garden. Please go around."

"Thank you, ma'am."

The Atlanteans went to the back of the house, and saw a young woman with long dark hair using a hose to spray water over a small cultivated area. She went to the faucet, turned off the water, and curled the flexible green tube around the reel.

Chuck called out, "Dusty?"

"Chuck." Amelia pointed to her ears, indicating Dusty was wearing earbuds.

He nodded and reached out to tap her on the shoulder. He'd taken a few sparring lessons in addition to what he'd been taught by the RCAF, and had been trained to handle odd situations, but none of that mattered now. Suddenly, he seemed to slip the surly bonds of Earth landing hard on his stomach. All the air in his lungs whooshed out on impact.

"Gandu!"

He heard what sounded like an epithet just as the world went dark, or rather dark orange. He groaned when he was flipped onto his back, and a moderately heavy weight settled on his stomach. His protest died when he felt cold metal against his throat, and smelled the pleasant scent of pumpkin however, a nasty sort of wetness on his head, neck and face made him gag in disgust.

"Whoa! Stop! Stop!" Amelia got the woman in a half-nelson pulling her off of her friend. The earbuds popped out, and Dusty dropped the garden shears with which she'd nearly stabbed him in the throat. "That's Chuck, and I'm Amelia!"

"Force of habit." She snickered, not sounding sorry at all. "You can let go now."

"What? Oh!" Amelia released the other woman and they looked down at the man on the ground still moaning. He'd been flipped head first into a large pumpkin that now surrounded his entire head like a helmet, making him look like a comical version of the Headless Horseman. "Look! It's a Chuck-o'-lantern!" Amelia said in between gasps of laughter.

"Very funny, Banks." His muffled voice was laced with irritation. He reached up to pull the gourd off, but it was stuck. "Get this thing off me!"

Before they could move to help him a loud and angry female voice came to them from the back door. "Dulari! What have I told you about attacking our guests?"

"Sorry, mataji…" Dusty brought her chin up in defiance, "…but he snuck up on me and…"

The woman who'd met them when they arrived, came down the stairs, dropped to her knees next to Chuck and, with shocking strength for someone so small, removed the gourd from his head. Pulp and seeds were stuck to his face and ears and in his hair. Dusty's mother scooped most of it off then got to her feet. "Don't just stand there, child. Help him up, and bring him into the house."

Both women hurried to comply, and she addressed the tall man as she held the door, "I'm sorry. We're proud of our daughter, but my Dusty is such a sher, a lion. Last week, it was the mailman. The week before, the package delivery man. Now we must go to the post office in town for our mail and packages. That's where her pitaji is now. He'll be staying in town with his friends, and won't be home for several hours." She kept up a steady dialogue as she took Chuck's arm and steered him to a downstairs bathroom.

"It's fine, Mrs. Mehra. It was my fault."

Amelia went to the SUV, and brought in his bag while Dusty stood unrepentant in the hallway. "See? He admits it was his fault!"

Dusty's mother gave her the classic "talk to the hand" gesture, and turned back to the Canadian. "Take a shower, and change. When you're through, Dusty will wash your clothes while you and your friend join me for lunch. Keema Biryani. My specialty."

"That's not necessary, ma'am. We don't want to be any trouble," Amelia said as she heard the water running behind the closed bathroom door.

"Nonsense. And please call me Ashwina." She bustled toward the back of the house, and the radio came on, tuned to a classic rock station. They heard singing then the oven door opened. The two young women shared a glance then went to the kitchen to help with the meal preparations.

The Truck Stop

Syracuse, New York

Chuck eased off the gas as he crossed into the Syracuse city limits. In the back seat, Dusty was still talking. She'd been talking almost non-stop since they left Little Falls, about everything. Her parents, her brother who lived in Los Angeles with his wife and three kids, her dog, her cat, her training in the Air Force, the weather, the other drivers, her best friend from grade school who moved away when she was ten, the chickens her parents kept, canning strawberry jam. You name it, she talked about it. He suddenly braked, jerked the wheel to the left, and pulled into a truck stop. Unhooking his seatbelt, he passed his credit card to Amelia. "Would you…"

"Sure." Amelia got out to fill the tank. Dusty jumped out, and followed Chuck inside, still talking. He had no idea what she was talking about now because he'd stopped listening as they passed through Utica but the noise was grating on his nerves and probably Amelia's, too. He'd finally remembered a piece of advice Alicia had given him and went straight to the candy aisle. Grabbing several handfuls of different types and flavors of gum he made his way to the counter.

Amelia came in, went to the cooler and grabbed a bottle of vitamin enriched water. She walked up behind Chuck and Dusty, and added it to the chips, candy bars, bottles of water and packs of gum. Finally, he couldn't stand it another minute. He grabbed the biggest pack of gum, and waved it under her nose. "Here. Have some."

Dusty smiled. "Mmm. My favorite!" She grabbed the pack, pulled out three pieces and popped them in her mouth. And blessed silence descended.

Amelia leaned close to whisper in his ear, "You are a genius!"

"Yes, but no. It was Alicia's idea."

The American slapped him on the shoulder. "Why didn't you do this sooner?"

He whispered back, "Because my mind went numb about an hour outside of Little Falls."

A loud, unholy POP sounded behind them and they turned to see Dusty peeling gum from the area surrounding her lips. "Sorry. Might have gotten a little in your hair."

Amelia's hand instantly went to her ponytail feeling for the sticky substance.

"In Chucky Cheese's hair," She said with a snort.

Chuck winced as his hand went to the back of his head, feeling small lumps. "Great! That's just great! You are riding shotgun from now on!"

He turned to further reprimand Dusty, but she was gone. A minute later she appeared with a zipper bag of ice. "This will get rid of it. I'll drive." She turned to Amelia. "You help him."

Both gapped at her stupidly.

"Ice the gum for fifteen minutes, and it comes right out. You'll be back behind the wheel drivin' like a little old lady again before you know it, Chuckster." She reached into his jacket pocket for the keys, blew another bubble, and headed for the SUV. "Driver picks the music. Everyone else can like it or get out and walk." At the door, she turned to see that neither of them had moved. Motioning for them to hurry, she added, "We're on a deadline here. Remember?"

Chuck paid for their purchases, and followed the women to the SUV. He and Amelia did as Dusty suggested and got in the back seat together. As she pulled onto I-90 headed west she said, "Since the two of you're supposed to be burnin' the sheet together I won't mind if you wanna practice makin' out." She blew another bubble as she adjusted the mirror so it was pointed into the back seat. "Promise not to watch."

TBC