A/N: After the enthusiastic reception of the previous installment, you deserve a big thank you in the form of a nice long chapter. Enjoy! BTW, the plot thickens even more here.
Sarah opened the door of her trailer and shuffled tiredly inside. To her and the rest of the cast it had been one exhausting day after another. Casey had been driving them all really hard. Fortunately, she didn't have the weight of the helmet, body armor, gear and weapons on her any more. She barely had the strength to strip off her dusty Multicam battle dress uniform and boots and get in the shower stall. She stood under the spray for several minutes, allowing the hot water to soothe her aching muscles. Then, she changed into a t-shirt, shorts and tennis shoes, before taking her BDU out the back and shaking the sand and dust off of it.
Feeling human again, she made her way to the tent which served both as a briefing room and dining hall. There were already several people there, talking in groups. She saw Hartley going over something with Casey. It was probably about the next day's schedule. Sarah was grateful that training was almost over. She could already operate and maintain every weapon she'd have to use for the movie and in addition Casey had arranged something with the range officer of the base the other day and the cast had joined the troops at the firing range. Shooting with all those weapons had been fun and, pretty much to the surprise of everyone else, her scores had been very high. An officer had even jokingly suggested that she could skip weapons training, should she ever decide to enlist in the Army.
Frankly, she didn't mind the hard work, especially since Casey and Hartley were having them rehearse some scenes they'd be filming later, so they were to be spared a lot of trouble. This was good, considering the heat. As it was, they were going through the water they were carrying on their gear at a fast rate. To them all, the best part was when the training and rehearsals involved riding in vehicles borrowed from the Army, which were air-conditioned. The one thing she missed the most, however, was Chuck. She was eager for filming to begin, since it meant that he'd be there. She could call him, of course, but Carina had nixed the idea, saying something about absence making the heart grow fonder. It was working, at least on her, but she was hoping it was having the same effect on Chuck as well.
One of the perks of the job was the catering. Graham had hired a specialist company to handle it, so food was both adequate in quantity and of excellent quality. And the way her stomach protested after such an exhausting day, made her stand in line to get dinner.
"Hey Sarah," Lou Palone, the catering girl, greeted her. "How was it today?" This was a running joke between the cast and the support staff, since everyone knew how tough it was.
"I'm still here," Sarah replied, keeping to the newly established tradition. "What have you got for us today?"
"We have onion soup as an appetizer, followed by the barbecue special, a salad of your choice – I recommend the Greek salad today – and finally ice cream for dessert."
"Yum. I'm starving."
"You should be. I watched you out there for a few minutes and I got tired and hungry. I can only imagine how hard it was for you."
"It wasn't that bad," Sarah said. After all, she was in shape. "The worst thing is the heat."
"Well then, I'd better make sure you're properly hydrated." Lou added a half-liter bottle of soda to the tray.
"Thanks." Sarah collected her tray and looked around to decide where to sit. Eventually she took a seat at a table with a couple of other actors. Maybe a bit of small talk and Hollywood gossip would help pass the time.
-o-
Chuck finished a phone call he'd made and leaned back in his comfortable office chair, his expression one of satisfaction. Then he made another call, this time to his father. And finally he pressed a button on his office intercom.
"Hello!" Morgan answered cheerfully from his own office, which just so happened to be an adjoining one.
"Get your butt over here, buddy. We've got work to do."
"I'll be right over." It took him just a minute to finish whatever he'd been working on before receiving Chuck's summons. "Tell me the good news, dude."
"Uncle Hartley called. Casey pronounced the cast ready, willing and able. They're beginning filming in earnest tomorrow."
"Then we should be there."
"I know. Right after I hung up with Hartley, I called Dad. Do you remember the RV we designed together back when we first started here?"
"You mean the multipurpose, all terrain, adaptable, modular motor home/office/etc? Mr. B authorized us the use of one?"
"Yes he did. It's not the amphibious version, mind you, which we'll not need in the desert anyway, but it'll be fully equipped with living quarters for the two of us, plus a compact but functional office. The production doesn't have an extra trailer on site for us, so I told Hartley we'd bring our own accommodation."
Both were understandably enthusiastic about finally getting the chance to use the top of the line 8x8 RV. It was selling remarkably well, various models having been purchased by adventurous millionaires who wanted to be able to keep up with the day to day operations of their companies, the mining, logging and construction industries and even by scientific expeditions. At first glance it seemed an unusual product for a computer company, but one easily understood after just one look inside. It had an extremely advanced central computer controlling everything from tire pressure to broadband satellite communications suite and all the rest in between, including a number of other computers.
"I call dibs on driving!" Morgan said enthusiastically.
"As much as I'd like to take advantage of you by agreeing to your request, I think it'd be better if we took shifts driving."
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Not to mention that Fort Irwin is not that far from LA, which means you just want to take a crack at driving the thing. Besides, you'll have more important things to worry about. I'm talking about Sarah Walker, of course."
"You should have let me call her. Who knows what she may be thinking about me now."
"Naw, she's cool. If you ask me, she's probably not called you for exactly the same reason."
"You think? Well, I guess we'll find out soon enough. First of all, we need to go home and pack."
"Meet you at the company parking garage in a couple of hours?"
"A couple of hours sounds just about right," Chuck agreed.
"Cool. Do you want me to get any special supplies?"
"I don't think so. But feel free to bring as much grape soda as you want."
-o-
The drive from LA to the Mojave Desert wasn't terribly long, and not exciting either. The personnel at the gate had been informed to expect them, so getting clearance to enter the base was a breeze. They were assigned a guide to take them to where the production camp had been set up, close to the perimeter of the base. It was sufficiently close to certain useful facilities, but sufficiently out of the way so as not to hinder normal operations there. The Army had even agreed to let the production company use an accurate replica of a typical forward operating base to film a few scenes on it. They followed the guide's Humvee to the camp, where he left them after honking his horn in salute, which was returned. Morgan then found a convenient parking spot right next to one of the trailers.
Sarah looked up from the script she'd been studying comfortably sprawled on a beach chair when something looking like a cross between a rock band tour bus and an all-terrain truck pulled up next to her trailer. Imagine her surprise when none other than Chuck stepped out of the vehicle. The surprise was mirrored on his face when he saw her under the awning of her trailer.
"Chuck!" Sarah exclaimed and jumped up, tossing the script on to the folding table nearby and running to him. They hugged tightly, having sorely missed each other. "Welcome to Fort Irwin. It sounds cliché, but… I missed you."
"I missed you too. But, you'll be seeing so much of me over the next few days that you'll grow sick of me."
"Never happen," she shot back resolutely. "Having a very special friend like you around here will make it so much easier."
He laughed and hugged her tighter to him. He didn't miss the gasp that escaped her lips. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I'm just a little stiff. Training can be brutal."
"I have the perfect solution to the problem." He guided her to sit back down on her beach chair. He'd do something he'd learned from his father. He stepped behind her and began gently massaging her shoulders.
"Oh, that feels amazing," Sarah moaned breathlessly, feeling the relief instantly.
"What are you doing?" Chuck asked as he saw her pick up the script again.
"I want to make damn sure I know my lines for tomorrow." She looked up at him. "But I don't know if I can concentrate with you doing what you're doing to me."
His hands moved to the back of her neck. "I'll have to adjust accordingly, then." He knew what he was doing. Sarah felt she could concentrate on the script, while enjoying the massage. Even though it was confined to her neck and shoulders, it turned out to be exactly what she needed. "What did you do today?"
"Casey had us practice counter ambush tactics, which was actually quite interesting. Plus, we got to rehearse one of the combat scenes. We'll be filming it in a couple of days, or maybe even tomorrow. It depends on whether we'll get the FOB scenes right early enough. Oh, and I was allowed to paint a set of Valkyrie wings on a vehicle."
"That was in the game!" Chuck exclaimed.
"I know," she said slyly. "I told the guy commanding one of the units that lent us the vehicles that Vikings used to get Valkyrie wing tattoos for protection. He said you can't have too many good luck charms while in-country."
"Another thing you picked up from the game."
"I also promised him to sign the dash when we're done. It's going to be the biggest thing I've ever autographed."
"Maybe I can find this vehicle and buy it once it's retired from service. It'll make a great decoration at Orion headquarters. The Valkyrie's ride… hopefully no one else will think of this. It'll be worth millions in no time at all."
"Or you can offer to buy the Army another, identical, one and use mine for the promotion of the movie."
He looked at her with pure admiration in his eyes. "Ingenious," he said simply.
"When you're in the industry, you pick up a few things about promoting movies."
Morgan walked up to them rubbing his hands. "I connected our ride to the electricity and water grids. I also checked the comms. We're good to go."
"Can I see it?" Sarah asked. "It's unlike any motor home I've ever seen and I've seen a lot."
"I'll give you the grand tour," Chuck volunteered happily.
-o-
"Charles, you did a great job helping the crew place the cameras in Sarah's vehicle," Hartley said while they were preparing to film a scene.
"Well, we're going to have multiple angles, so editing should be a breeze."
Hartley smiled and pressed a hand to his headset. "They're ready. We've got picture and sound. So… Action!"
-o-
Inside the hulking Maxxpro Dash MRAP…
"Lieutenant Anderson, can I ask you a question?"
Sarah, playing Eva "Valkyrie" Anderson, turned to face the driver. "Shoot, Hawkins."
"What exactly did you paint on the door? I noticed you've got the same design on some of your t-shirts."
"It's a Norse Valkyrie's wing. My family's lineage traces back to Scandinavia, Sweden to be precise. In Norse mythology, Valkyries were soldiers' angels, flying over the battlefield, choosing who would fall in battle, selecting half of those and taking them to the halls of Valhalla, where they would serve the god Odin and fight the final battle by his side. The Vikings used to have them tattooed on for good luck and protection."
"Well, Lieutenant, maybe a Valkyrie will take me to warrior's heaven if I fall in battle. What's the alternative, by the way?"
"The alternative would be spending the afterlife in the field ruled by the goddess Freya."
"You seem to know an awful lot about this, LT."
"It's my ancestors' history. In fact, my family name used to be spelled Andersson, with two esses. It lost one when it was Americanized."
"Interesting."
"Just keep your eyes on the road, Hawkins. We are getting close to a village. I don't want to incense the locals by getting into an accident."
-o-
"So far it's a perfect take," Hartley mused. "If they keep it up, we'll be able to do the first combat scene today."
"I'll keep my fingers crossed," Chuck said from beside him.
Eventually, it all went without a hitch. They managed to get quite a lot of usable footage, so Hartley was able to let the cast and crew go early. After turning in her equipment, taking a quick shower and changing, Sarah went to the laundry trailer to leave her grimy and sweat soaked uniform. The wardrobe department would give her another one in the morning.
At dinner, she sat with Chuck, Morgan, Hartley, Casey and one of her co-stars, who was playing the male lead. The main topic of discussion, other than how their families were doing, was the scene they'd be filming the following morning. It was one of the most intense – and difficult – action sequences in the game, and Chuck thought that the screenwriter had done an excellent job adapting it for the silver screen. Once again, Sarah insisted on doing the scene from the beginning to the end without a stunt double. As she told the others, her years of martial arts and dance training made her more than capable of doing it and doing it well. Besides, they had already done some preliminary work on the scene after wrapping up the day's filming and the cast members taking part in it knew their places.
That night, while everyone was asleep, a lone figure slunk in the shadows and approached the armory trailers. Climbing on top of it, the man opened an unsecured skylight and dropped inside. Using a hooded flashlight, he found one particular weapon. He knew exactly which one he was after, as he'd noted it while observing the rehearsal from a nearby hill using a high-powered telescope.
He fiddled with it for a minute, replacing something with an identical item before clambering on the roof of the trailer again and dropping lightly to the ground, after making sure that the patrolling security guards were in another part of the camp. They weren't expecting anyone messing with the armory, as they'd been told to be on the lookout for paparazzi looking for an easy scoop. The man smiled evilly, before carefully leaving the camp and heading back to his hilltop vantage point. Tomorrow, he'd have a front row seat to watch Sarah Walker's death from. He laughed maniacally when he reached his hideout. His wife had no idea where he was. She thought he'd gone fishing with friends out of state. No one would know. Revenge would be his.
-o-
"Are we good to go?" Hartley asked his assistant.
"Everything and everyone is in place, Boss." The assistant consulted her clipboard. "Oh, and Mr. Bartowski is handling the fitting of the helmet and gun cams himself. It's going to have a genuine first person shooter feel to it, he says."
"If he says so, then you gotta believe him. I've known his father for about thirty years now and I've known Charles since he was born. There are few things those two can't do."
"Shall we begin, then?"
"As soon as Casey gives the all clear."
At first it all progressed as intended. The convoy stopped near the facsimile of an Afghan village, the passengers dismounted and proceeded to patrol on foot. The cameras followed them, until they reached a bend in the road, which was actually little more than a rough dirt trail. More cameras had been set up there, as it was the designated scene of an ambush. In addition to the cameras, several extras dressed as Taliban fighters were lurking among the rocks. When Hartley gave the signal, all hell broke loose. In fact, the mayhem and confusion had been elaborately orchestrated and meticulously rehearsed.
"I'm impressed," an Army Colonel told Hartley. "Your people are actually reacting to the ambush just like our people would."
"Our consultant and his assistants were quite thorough in preparing the cast members for this." Hartley refocused on the combat scene. The 'fighting' was taking place in such close range that in addition to firearms, the 'combatants' also used bayonets, knives, and even their bare fists.
In the middle of it, Sarah reloaded her weapon, popped up from behind a rock and 'picked off' a couple of the 'bad guys' with fast but well aimed shots. A 'Taliban' suddenly appeared to her front on the left and cut loose with his garishly decorated AK-47. She cried out in pain and fell to the ground.
"Aw, fuck," she ground out through clenched teeth, for the benefit of the microphone in her gear. The truth was that it hurt like hell. And it wasn't supposed to.
On camera, it all appeared very realistic. She got up, retrieved her weapon and got back in the fray. Not long later, the scene was over. Hartley and the others who'd been watching from the director's position cheered enthusiastically. They had a perfect take, again.
Chuck noticed Sarah hobbling back to the vehicles like she was in pain and ran to her. "Sarah, are you OK? Did you fall down on a rock or something?"
"No, but I think the visual effects people kinda overdid it when they put the popper in my vest. It still hurts."
"What? It's not supposed to hurt. It's only intended to muck up the outside of the vest a little." He took a closer look at Sarah's vest and paled. "CASEY!"
Casey came running. "What is it, Bartowski?"
"Check the weapon of the guy that shot Sarah. Something must have broken off and hit her, luckily on her vest."
"Wait here."
"OK." He guided Sarah to sit down on the boarding step of a vehicle and helped her take off her outer tactical vest. She winced in pain and he noticed. "Unbutton your shirt and pull out your t-shirt."
"Chuck, I'm sure it's nothing."
"Please, I just want to make sure you'll be okay." He lifted the hem of her t-shirt and gasped when he saw the bruise on her body, just below the ribcage.
"There's nothing wrong with the weapon, I checked," Casey reported back. And then he too saw the bruise. "Shit. This can't have been caused by a squib. Gimme her vest."
"Talk to me, people, what's going on down there?" Hartley bellowed.
"Have someone collect all the spent casings and bring them to me immediately. I think something may have malfunctioned," Casey yelled back.
Hartley gave the necessary instructions. Casey pulled a Gerber knife from a pouch on his belt, flicked open the blade and dug into Sarah's vest. Something was dislodged and fell off. Chuck managed to grab it.
"Casey, what is this?" He took a closer look. "Is it what I think it is?"
"It looks like a bullet, all right," Casey replied somberly, after taking the small object and examining it carefully.
"They were supposed to be using blanks!" Chuck hissed angrily. "Someone could have gotten hurt!"
"Bartowski…"
"WHAT?"
"I don't think this was just a simple error in logistics."
"You mean it was done deliberately?"
"Yes. Look at this. It's not a garden variety bullet. It's made of hard metal, either steel or tungsten. It was designed to penetrate body armor, Bartowski."
"Then why didn't it?"
"All I can offer right now is a guess." Seeing Chuck nod, Casey continued. "Whoever did this was very smart, but stupid at the same time. He cut the bullet down to make it fit inside the neck of a casing, so that no one would notice. But cutting it down also fucked up the ballistics, as it was unbalanced. Instead of flying true, it began to wobble while still inside the barrel and began tumbling the instant it came out. Because of the extra propellant crammed in blank cartridges to make a nice flash and produce sufficient blowback to work the gun's mechanism, it still had enough energy to damage Walker's vest, but it didn't hit it with the pointy end. If it had, she'd be dead."
"Then someone was trying to kill her."
"Or trying to ruin your movie, Bartowski," Casey offered another explanation. "It could have been anyone in her place."
"Casey, someone broke into her apartment back in LA, before the filming began. Some think that whoever did it wanted to break into Sarah's sister's place. She's a DEA agent. Now, I'm not sure. Maybe I was right."
"Right about what?"
"Someone could be stalking Sarah."
"Well, there is no shortage of fucked up wackos in this world."
"Thanks. The others, including the cops, dismissed it almost out of hand."
"You are welcome. Call Walker's sister. Let her know what happened. I'll deal with Hartley and the MPs. We're on an Army facility, so we'll have to involve them, too." He shook his head. "She was damn lucky to be wearing real body armor…" he muttered.
"OK." He made the call. Carina, as expected, was furious. She yelled at him not to let Sarah out of his sight until she got there.
Hartley gave Sarah the rest of the day off. Chuck immediately took her to the base infirmary, where an Army doctor checked her out and gave her a clean bill of health.
"All things considered, I think it'd be better if you stayed in my RV, Sarah," Chuck told her. "Before you argue, it'll make me feel a lot better."
"He's right," Morgan said. "I can sleep in your trailer tonight." He held up a bag. "Chuck gave me a heads-up while you were at the doctor's. I'm already packed. You guys stay here. I'll bring you dinner."
"Thanks," Chuck and Sarah said in unison. When Morgan left, Chuck showed her around the motor home. They sat down on the couch and he turned to her. "How are you feeling? Does it still hurt?"
"A little," she admitted.
"Let me know if there is anything I can help you with."
That did it. She closed the distance between them and pressed her lips against his. He was surprised, but returned it, just as chastely. But then she grabbed him, pulled him closer and deepened the kiss. Their tongues dueled and they tasted each other hungrily. When the lack of air forced them to break it off, their hearts were both beating madly.
"I'm not complaining, mind you, but what was that for, Sarah?"
"For being a great guy, Chuck," she replied and pressed her body to his, tucking her head beneath his chin. He just wrapped his arms around her and hugged her to him, not wanting to let her go.