In the Valley of the Shadow, Chapter 5 – "The Arcade Fire"

Author's note: Congratulations to SarahLisaWalkerFan101 for figuring out the double-layered shout-out to fanfic writer brickroad16. Little disappointed that nobody caught the other hidden surprise. As any good Browncoat knows, on one of Joss Whedon's myriad OTHER shows, Firefly, Jayne Cobb – who is played by Adam Baldwin – carries a gun which he has nicknamed Vera. That gun just happens to be a modified Saiga-12 shotgun – the kind of gun Casey was cleaning at the beginning of the chapter.

CAST (in order of appearance):
Paul Ballard – Tahmoh Penikett
John Casey – Adam Baldwin
Carrie Rozelle – Summer Glau
Chuck Bartowski – Zachary Levi
Adelle DeWitt – Olivia Williams
Don McKay – Brian Austin Green
Laurence Dominic – Reed Diamond
Ted Roark – Chevy Chase
General Diane Beckman – Bonita Fredericy

9:30 PM, Pacific Daylight Time
Thursday, April 9th, 2009
The Beverly Center, Los Angeles, CA

Paul Ballard looked suspiciously at the Secret Service agent and the CIA agent over the sights of his FBI issued Glock 22. He didn't know whether or not to trust these people – after all, he had seen the one who identified himself as CIA talking directly to Major Donald McKay, US Army, retired – a person that one of his sources had ASSURED him was now working for the Dollhouse.

Couple that with the fact that he had seen McKay and a very attractive woman depart the hotel and get into a Dodge van which had driven off at breakneck speed – it was too much to discount. However, the NSA gorilla standing behind him had a Glock 37 pointed at his back, and Ballard knew that if he tried anything, that would be it. There would be no more walking, let alone trying to take down the Dollhouse.

"Crap," he muttered, shaking his head as he lowered his gun. "I'm Agent Paul Ballard."

The Secret Service agent gave him a weird look. "I know that name," she said. "Aren't you on suspension right now?"

Ballard sighed in frustration. "Yeah, but this is too important," he answered. He laughed in sheer astonishment at the situation. "Do you people have any idea what you've gotten yourselves into?"

A look of askance humor appeared on the CIA agent's face. "I might ask you the same question," he replied. "Do you have the slightest clue who the people hosting that party were?"

"Roark Instruments," Ballard said with a shrug. "So?"

That's when the CIA agent really did laugh. "Are you sure that's all you know, Agent Ballard?"

"What are you saying, Bartowski?" the NSA thug asked from behind Ballard. "You gettin' something on this guy?"

The CIA agent – his name's Bartowski? – shook his head. "No," he said slowly, "but that doesn't necessarily mean anything."

"Alright," the Secret Service agent interjected, drawing her gun. "I need you to get on your knees, Agent Ballard."

Ballard's eyes widened. "What? What did I do?"

She shrugged. "You were conducting operations without authorization, while on suspension. That alone is enough to place you under arrest."

Bartowski smiled. "That, and we need to figure out how you're connected to Fulcrum."

Ballard's jaw dropped. "WHAT?!"

"Aw, goddammit, Bartowski!" the NSA agent groaned behind Ballard. "You never, EVER play your ace in the hole this early!"

"Wait, wait!" Ballard said, standing up. He turned toward the NSA agent. "Ace in the hole? Are you kidding? Fulcrum's a fairy tale, a bogeyman made up to scare rookie CIA agents!"

He heard a snort of laughter behind him. "Riiiight," Bartowski drawled. "Listen, pal, I can ASSURE you that Fulcrum's very real and very dangerous, mostly because I've been in their custody – how many times would you say, Casey?"

The NSA agent – Casey? – snorted. "Enough times to make sure my hair's completely gray by Christmas," he shot back.

Ballard's mind went into overdrive. Bartowski. Casey. I've heard those names before. Where have I heard those names before?

Then his breath caught. THAT was where he had heard those names before. He turned back to Bartowski. "You," he said, pointing. "You're Chuck Bartowski." He turned back to Casey. "And you're John Casey! I KNEW I knew those names! They were both on the report from the hostage situation at that Buy More back on Christmas Eve!"

He spun around to face the Secret Service agent. "And that must make you Sarah Walker," he finished, his face breaking into a grin. "Holy crap. You know you're a legend, right?!"

But the Secret Service agent just narrowed her eyes and stared at him. "My name is Carrie Rozelle," she replied. "Who the hell is Sarah Walker?"

Behind Ballard, John Casey's eyes closed. "Shit," he whispered, cocking his gun. Ballard heard the noise, and his hands shot up in the air.

"Casey!" Chuck said, a note of warning in his voice. "Fed-er-al ag-ent!"

Casey growled. "Fine," he grumbled. "Get in the truck. All of you. We'll sort this out back in Burbank."

He reached out and grabbed Ballard's arm. "You're ridin' up front, where I can keep an eye on you," he said. "Bartowski, Rozelle, load up."

As Chuck and Carrie climbed into the backseat of the Escalade, she looked across at him. "I ask again, who the hell is Sarah Walker?"

Chuck sighed. "Uh, Casey?"

Casey shook his head. "Whatever," he replied. "Tell her."

As Casey maneuvered the Escalade around to exit out to La Cienega Boulevard and head AWAY from the Sofitel, which was now being swarmed by Los Angeles Police, Chuck began to explain. "You know how you were assigned to temporarily fill a vacancy?"

"Yeah," Carrie replied.

"Well, it's a vacancy that was created by Sarah Walker. She was part of this team until about four days ago, at which point, she… inexplicably disappeared." He sighed. "We've had absolutely no leads on her. Well, until tonight."

At that, Casey slammed on the brakes, the Escalade fishtailing to a stop in the middle of the intersection of La Cienega and Third Street. "What the HELL do you mean until tonight, Bartowski?" he barked, as a BMW behind them honked its horn.

"Casey, drive," Chuck replied. "Drive, and I'll explain to you too."

Casey grumbled, but started driving again, as the BMW pulled out and shot around them. "JACKASS!" the driver howled as he passed.

"Yeah, fuck you too," Casey muttered. "Bartowski, start talkin'."

"Okay," Chuck replied. "So, after I told you that Carrie was going to go find Bill Bergey, did you hear somebody start playing the piano?"

"Yeah," Casey said. "And?"

"Well…" Chuck paused. "The song that was being played is called 'Wake Up'. It's by the Arcade Fire, and it was on the very first mix CD I ever made for Sarah."

"The first mix CD, Bartowski?" Casey asked, a note of scorn in his voice. "Exactly how many have you made her?"

Chuck sighed. "One a month," he said quietly. "One a month since she got here. I… haven't gotten to give her this month's yet."

Casey rolled his eyes and shook his head. "God save the world from nerds with romantic intentions," he muttered as he turned left onto Wilshire. "Continue."

"Anyway, I had this feeling that it was her, so I went over to the piano was – and Casey, she had short black hair and green eyes, but I swear to you, it was Sarah."

"Wait a second," Ballard interrupted. "The woman with the short black hair and green eyes… her name tonight was Blair Channing… but she's an Active at the Dollhouse. The man you were talking to next to the piano, his name's Don McKay. He's a retired US Army major, and I think he's her handler."

Chuck's breath caught in his throat. "Wait a second," he said quietly. "So you're saying that Sarah's an Active?"

"Not possible," Casey cut in. "I've been hearing things about Sarah Walker since 1999. She really is a legend."

"I know, Casey," Chuck replied. "I went with her to her high school reunion, remember? I've met her dad. I know she's for real. But I think Agent Ballard's saying she's an Active now."

Casey snorted. "In the mythical Dollhouse."

"Hey," Ballard retorted, "if Fulcrum can be real, there's no reason the Dollhouse can't be, right?"

Casey mulled that over for a moment. "Fair enough," he finally said.

"May I interrupt here?" Carrie asked.

Chuck turned toward her. "Yes?"

"I think we really need to talk to Mo – uh, General Beckman," she said, stumbling over her sentence. "This sounds like a pretty serious issue."

"You're right," Casey said. "But Rozelle, one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Brick Road?! Seriously?"

12:30 AM, Pacific Daylight Time
Friday, April 10th, 2009
Rossum Tower, Wilshire & Westwood

Adelle DeWitt really did not like being in her office at this time of night. She liked even less being in her office when Laurence Dominic was present at this time of night.

But what she liked least of all was being in her office at this time of night, waiting for an angry client to show up, with her chief of security and an Active's handler present. This was going to be ugly.

"Gentlemen," she said quietly, getting Dominic and McKay's attention. Both men turned their heads toward her. "Do we all have our story straight?"

Dominic looked to McKay. "You're leadin' on this one, McKay," he said sourly. "This was your engagement, and I'm not takin' a hit here."

"Nobody is taking a hit," DeWitt snapped. "Major McKay –"

McKay raised an eyebrow. DeWitt had never addressed him as "Major" before. "Yes, ma'am?"

She shook her head. "Just be as truthful as you can. This man is far too powerful for us to try to dissemble with."

"Understood," McKay replied, sighing. This was not going to be pretty.

Silence fell over DeWitt's office. It felt like nearly an hour passed, but in reality, it was a mere five minutes later when a bell dinged, announcing the arrival of the elevator.

A moment later, a small hurricane roared into DeWitt's office. "WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED OUT THERE?!" roared Ted Roark, marching straight up to DeWitt's desk and slamming his hands down.

Adelle calmly raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Roark. Thank you for coming in. We have some things we need to discuss."

"You're goddamn straight we do!" Roark shouted back. "My chief of security engages an Active to be pretty arm candy for my top corporate recruiter, and they both end up DEAD?! What the hell kind of operation are you running here?"

DeWitt sighed, trying to swallow her pride. "Mr. Roark, I can assure you that we run a perfectly safe and secure operation," she replied. "If you'll take a seat, the Active's handler can explain to you the situation as he saw it. Major McKay?"

That's twice now, McKay thought. Roark didn't take a seat, but fell quiet, staring directly at McKay. "Mr. Roark, my name's Don McKay, US Army Ranger, retired," he introduced himself. "I'm the handler for the Active known as Juliet. Tonight, she was posing as Blair Channing, a Beverly Hills socialite, and Mr. Bergey's date for the evening.

"We arrived at the Sofitel at 1930 hours. I escorted Juliet inside, where we were met by your chief of security, Mr. Torvalds. He then escorted us to a conference room, where I was separated from Juliet briefly. I assume that he was introducing her to Mr. Bergey. I don't know if there was more than just introduction, but that's none of my business."

Roark laughed bitterly. "There wasn't anything else," he muttered. "Go on."

"Anyway, about ten minutes later, she reappeared, with Mr. Bergey. I trailed at a distance to avoid suspicion, and kept an eye on Juliet throughout the evening. At just after 8:00 PM, Mr. Bergey was called away to an urgent phone call. At that point, Juliet was separated from him, and appeared bored. Upon seeing the ballroom piano, she went to it and began playing.

"Less than a minute after she began playing, a man about ten years younger than myself approached the stage on which the piano sat. From the way he looked at Juliet, it was clear to me that he recognized her – and that could prove to be disastrous. I asked if he knew her, but before I was able to get a firm answer out of him, your chief of security appeared behind him. He called him Mr. Bartowski, and escorted him out of the room –"

"Wait, WAIT!" Roark interrupted. "He called him what?!"

"Mr. Bartowski," McKay replied. "Do you know that name, sir?"

"Motherfucking goddammit son of cocksucking bitch!" Roark shouted, looking like he wanted to kick something. "Fuck!"

"Mr. Roark," Adelle said, a note of disapproval in her voice, "is there a problem?"

"Nothing," Roark growled. "Continue."

McKay nodded. "A moment later, Juliet finished the song she was playing. I informed her that we needed to depart immediately. As we were heading toward the dock where the van was parked, I heard gunfire come from the direction of the lobby. I then conducted an emergency egress with Juliet.

"As the van passed by the hotel on Beverly Boulevard, I was able to get a very brief glimpse of the situation in the lobby. Both Mr. Torvalds and Mr. Bergey were down. In addition, the van came very close to running over this Mr. Bartowski, who almost darted into the street in front of us. He was accompanied by a woman about his age. She was carrying a government-issue handgun, and I'm assuming she probably had something to do with the shootings."

Roark shook his head – and then, without another word, turned and stormed back out of the room. McKay and Dominic both looked at Adelle. Finally, McKay spoke. "Ma'am, was Juliet imprinted with piano playing skills?"

DeWitt looked at her desk for a moment. "No, she was not," she finally said.

"So, in other words, this was another ingrained skill from her prior life appearing," McKay mused. "Ma'am, this is not a good situation."

"Thank you, Major," DeWitt replied acidly, giving him a dirty look. "Nonetheless, I hardly find the ability to play the piano a skill that should cause any alarm."

She rose from her desk, looking tired. "Gentlemen, you're both dismissed. Major, I want you to go downstairs and discuss this situation with Topher. Laurence, you're free for the evening."

Dominic gave DeWitt an odd look. "Ma'am, shouldn't I be around for this discussion as well?"

DeWitt sighed. "Laurence, I need you fresh and alert. If the worst occurs and Juliet does turn into another Alpha, I need you ready to respond immediately."

Dominic nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

The two men departed DeWitt's office. Neither spoke as they rode down in the elevator, Dominic disembarking at the parking garage. He crossed quickly to his Mercedes coupe, and drove out onto Wilshire.

He headed west on Wilshire, until he reached Ocean Avenue in Santa Monica. He turned left, and headed south until he reached the parking lot for Pacific Park.

Dominic pulled in and parked next to the only other vehicle in the lot – a red Corvette. He got out of his car, and got into the Corvette. "Sir, don't you think there is a less conspicuous place we could have met?"

Ted Roark turned to Dominic. "Mr. Dominic, I'm one of the most powerful men in Los Angeles. Nobody's going to mess with me."

Dominic sighed. "Yes, sir."

Roark nodded. "So, we are going to be moving Orion from the Mulholland facility to Black Rock. I need a driver whose memory can be wiped afterwards."

"No problem, sir," Dominic replied. "I'll get it set up through one of the shell corporations."

"Excellent," Roark said. "Now, Laurence, you do understand the gravity of the situation here, correct?"

Dominic sighed. "Yes, sir. Fulcrum suffered a serious loss tonight."

"Yes, we did," Roark muttered. "I don't want to see it happen again." He turned and looked at Dominic. "How would you feel about becoming chief of security for Roark Instruments?"

"Don't believe I'd want that, sir," Dominic replied. "After all, Rossum pays me far more than Roark ever did."

Roark laughed bitterly. "Right. God forbid we should see any fealty to Fulcrum here."

Dominic snorted. "Sir, it's not going to matter after Orion finishes the Intersect."

"Right," Roark shot back. "Just, do me a favor, would you? Make sure his son doesn't come sniffing around anymore. I'd hate to have to kill him."

2:00 AM
Echo Park

Chuck knew that he should be asleep. In point of fact, his body was exhausted. However, his mind kept replaying Bill Bergey's death, over and over.

It wasn't the first time he had seen somebody killed – and that, in and of itself, was a very disturbing thought. However, it was the first time he had really been anything close to directly responsible for somebody's death.

Sure, Bergey had been a big-time Fulcrum operator, but he was still a human being. That was the part that Chuck was having a serious problem with.

And so, he lay in his bed, staring at his TV, old episodes of Dragonball Z running in mute in front of him. It came as quite a shock when the screen went blank for a moment, and General Beckman's face appeared.

"General!" Chuck said, sitting up in bed.

"Bartowski," she replied with a yawn. "I'll make this brief, as I am tired."

"Yes, ma'am," Chuck said. "You do look – I mean – well, you know."

Beckman nodded. "I have just finished debriefing Agents Casey, Rozelle, and Ballard," she began. "Now, there's something I want you to understand about the Dollhouse, Mr. Bartowski. It is a very, very powerful organization – more so than even the NSA. If Agent Walker is inside there, then I'm afraid that there's very little we can do to retrieve her."

"But –" Chuck began to protest, only to be cut off by General Beckman.

"Mr. Bartowski, you have to understand. They are untouchable. I have had two agents go inside Dollhouses in the United States and simply disappear. Nobody can do anything about it. That's why it is imperative that your team continue searching for Orion. Agent Ballard will be temporarily attached to the team; however, I cannot allow him to attempt to go up against the Dollhouse. It would be disastrous."

"Yes, ma'am," Chuck replied, beginning to feel despondent. Here he had found Sarah, and now he wasn't going to be able to save her. "But Sarah –"

"Chuck," Beckman said, her voice taking on a far gentler tone than usual. "I understand your concern for Agent Walker. But you are our most important asset in the fight against Fulcrum, and I cannot allow you to risk that by taking on an outside mission."

Beckman paused for a moment, her face taking on a thoughtful look. "However… if you were to, shall we say, conduct an independent investigation, there would be certain resources that you might need."

Chuck's eyes widened. "General – uh – what are you saying, ma'am?"

A tiny smile cracked Beckman's face. "First thing tomorrow morning, check your mailbox. There will be instructions."

And without another word, the screen went black.