Chuck in a Moment
Chapter 8: Where the Streets Have No Name
CAST (in order of appearance):
Chuck Bartowski – Zachary Levi
Veronica Mars – Kristen Bell
Corporal Hernandez – Jon Huertas
Airman Reynard – Michael Weston
Sarah Walker – Yvonne Strahovski
John Casey – Adam Baldwin
Langston Arthur Graham – Tony Todd
Author's note: with the exception of the city of Lloydminster (which straddles the provincial border with Alberta) and immediate vicinity, the province of Saskatchewan does not observe Daylight Savings Time.
12:30 P.M., Central Standard Time
Sunday, July 12th, 2009
Near Beauval, Saskatchewan, Canada
Chuck Bartowski came to wakefulness very, very slowly. His head was pounding.
The light seemed extraordinarily bright as he exposed his eyes to it, but it seemed that if he just opened his eyes the slightest bit at a time, they SLOWLY adjusted to the light.
Finally, he had his eyes completely open. Looking around, he took in his surroundings.
He was sitting in a rather comfortable easy chair in what appeared to be a faux-rustic log cabin. It looked like he was in what passed for a living room. All the furniture was earth tones. A forty-two inch plasma TV hung from the wall, with what appeared to be a 7.1 channel sound system arrayed around the living room.
Chuck was getting rather confused. Stepping towards the television, he discovered a cabinet below it. He opened it, and there was a Playstation 3, a Blu-Ray DVD player, the amplifier that controlled the sound system, and –
Wow. Damn good DVD selection. Good game selection, too.
Where the hell was he?
He stood up, and headed for what appeared to be the kitchen. On his way there, he passed a mirror –
What the hell?!
Chuck looked down at himself. "Why am I dressed like the Brawny paper towel guy?"
A red and black plaid flannel shirt, blue jeans, and hiking boots was not Chuck's ordinary wardrobe choice. But that's how he was dressed right at that moment.
"I'm hallucinating," Chuck muttered. "That must be it."
He stepped into the kitchen. An industrial size stainless-steel refrigerator dominated one wall of the kitchen. Chuck opened it –
"Okay, much better stocked than mine usually is." And so it was. Plenty of food, along with a rather significant supply of Mountain Dew, Rockstars, Corona, bottled water…
Chuck wrinkled his nose. "But I don't drink Diet Coke, wine coolers, or those disgusting bottled frappucinos," he objected. "Why are those in here?"
Sarah, maybe? But no… Sarah liked Diet Coke, Sarah was a fan of the occasional wine cooler… but Sarah wouldn't touch anything that came from Starbucks with a ten foot pole.
Veronica would, though, Chuck realized. "What the hell is going on?" he asked himself, shaking his head.
Why in God's name was he in a log cabin? Grabbing one of the bottles of water in the hopes that it would ease the pounding in his head, Chuck cracked it open and took a sip. Ah, that was good. He hadn't quite realized how thirsty he was up until that moment.
He crossed back through the living room to the front door. He pulled the door open and stepped outside.
Wherever he was, it was a beautiful day. The sky was blue, the sun was shining bright. Not a cloud in the sky. It was a bit cooler than he was used to, especially at this time of year – the temperature was probably in the mid-60s or so, but the flannel shirt more than compensated for that.
The cabin was in a wooded area – mostly aspen trees, but there were some pines and spruces as well. Chuck walked down the short dirt path in front of the house. It led to another dirt path, about as wide as a narrow street. On the other side of that path was a thin layer of trees, and then a wide expanse of concrete that greatly resembled a runway. On the other side of the runway, though, was something a little more ominous.
A chain link fence with a razor wire top ran along the runway as far as Chuck could see in either direction. Rotating red lights topped the posts every fifty feet or so, and brilliant red signs were posted on the fence that read, "DANGER: 100,000 VOLTS."
"What is this place?" Chuck turned around, and saw that there was a cabin that outwardly appeared identical to his own every hundred feet, in a grid five by five. His was in the first row, second from the left hand end. Beyond the cabins, there were several larger structures, and beyond the structures, he could see a fence identical to the one on the other side of the runway.
Chuck didn't know what was going on, but he sure as hell didn't like it. This was starting to creep him out a bit. He started to head back inside the cabin, when something moving above one of the buildings caught his attention.
The Canadian flag, flapping in the wind.
And that's when it all came back to him. The images appeared in his mind like an Intersect flash, but it was his own memories. Being stopped at the border crossing. Arrested on bogus charges of illegal arms possession. Detained for two hours without a word. Gassed in the interrogation room. Sarah's hand slipping into his own…
"Oh my God," he whispered. They'd finally caught up with him. Who THEY were, he had no idea. It could be the government, could be Fulcrum… who knew.
But something didn't quite add up. Shaking his head, Chuck headed back inside the cabin. Crossing the living room, he turned left to the door of the one room he hadn't been in yet.
Quietly opening the door, he stepped inside the bedroom. A king size bed dominated the room, and a dark blue down comforter covered the bed. Almost disappearing amidst the enormity of the bed, the tiny frame of Veronica Mars lay in the middle, all but her head concealed underneath the comforter.
Chuck smiled at how innocent the diminutive FBI agent always looked when she was asleep, and how drastically that appearance differed from her real persona. When she was awake, she was a hardened, jaded, angry young woman who had been through more by the time she graduated high school than most people would go through in their entire lives. But underneath that, there was still a sweet, kind woman, and it was the inner Veronica that had made Chuck's life so difficult these last few weeks.
He sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. The slight movement was enough to wake Veronica.
Chuck heard her yawn, and turned to face her. Her arms appeared from under the comforter, stretching upwards as she came to wakefulness. Her eyes cracked open, and she saw Chuck sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Well…" she whispered. "An unexpected but not unwelcome sight to wake up to."
Chuck smiled slightly. "Although, why are you dressed like a lumberjack?"
Chuck laughed softly and shook his head. "I have no idea," he replied. "I woke up dressed like this."
Veronica started to sit up – and then froze. "Then you have an advantage over me," she said, her right eyebrow rising, "because I seem to be naked."
"Seem to be?" Chuck asked.
"AM," Veronica shot back. "Check the closet, see if there's anything in there I can wear."
Chuck opened the closet – "Oh my good Lord," he said. Sure enough, one side of the closet was full of clothes that appeared to be his, and they were ALL in the same style as what he was wearing at that moment. Veronica's side contained decidedly more feminine clothing, but it was certainly not what she would ordinarily wear.
"Oh, joy," he heard her say sarcastically. "I get to look like hick white trash here – speaking of which, where the hell is here?"
"We're somewhere in Canada," Chuck replied.
Veronica laughed. "Wow," she replied. "That REALLY narrows it down. We're somewhere in the second largest country in the world. Congratulations, Mr. Intersect. Are you telling me that nothing out there made you flash?"
Chuck just stared at her. "Sometimes, you're an ass."
Veronica shrugged. "I've been called worse. Now get out. I want to get dressed."
"Yeah," Chuck cracked, "because I've never seen you naked before."
"OUT!"
Fifteen minutes, Chuck was back where he started – sitting in the easy chair in the living room. He was working on his second bottle of water, when Veronica came out of the bedroom. He turned around to look at her – and almost choked on his mouthful of water.
She did not look pleased. She was barefoot, with a pair of loose jeans and a bulky cable-knit fisherman's sweater on. "Well," she grumbled, "I look like an idiot."
Chuck raised an eyebrow and did his best not to laugh. "I have no comment," he said.
Veronica narrowed her eyes and gave him a mocking smile. "Good call."
She collapsed on the couch. "So, what's going on?"
"Well," Chuck replied, "we've clearly been kidnapped. For what reason, I have no idea. I also have no idea what happened to Sarah and Casey… but I'm trying not to think about that."
He paused for a moment. Veronica could see the calm façade starting to crack a little bit, but Chuck took a deep breath, and smiled. "I don't know who took us, but if I had to guess, I'd say it was Fulcrum. It would make no sense for the CIA to put us somewhere in Canada, and it's like I said when we were at the border station – Bryce Larkin told me that Fulcrum pretty much disappeared from the United States."
"Okay," Veronica said. "So, I understand why they kidnapped you. You're the priceless Intersect. But why me?"
Chuck shrugged and spread his hands. "No idea," he replied. "I mean, I have a theory, but I don't think you'll like it."
Veronica smiled and shook her head. "Come on, Chuck. I've heard all kinds of rotten shit in my time. Hit me with your best shot."
Chuck nodded. "I think they brought you here to keep me entertained."
That statement did not amuse Veronica. "Well. That's lovely. I'm your plaything – your sex toy."
"Do you have a theory that makes sense? I mean, mine barely clings to the ragged edge of logic as it is!"
She shook her head again. "But why me? If they wanted to have a woman here to keep you happy and entertained, why not grab Sarah? I mean, surely they had to know you're engaged."
"Are you kidding?" Chuck said. "Fulcrum, bring a CIA legend onto one of their bases? They suck, but they're not insane."
He sighed. "Anyway, there's a thirty foot tall, razor-wire topped electrified fence running around the base. We're not getting out of here unless they take us out of here."
And then, there was a knock on the front door. "Uh… come in?"
The door opened, and two men in uniform stepped in. "Mr. Bartowski, Ms. Mars, good afternoon," one of them said. "Would you come with us, please?"
Chuck looked at them, his eyes narrowing. "You're Canadian Air Force!" he said in astonishment.
"Yes, sir, yes we are," the man who had spoken replied. "Now, I'd appreciate it if you and Ms. Mars could please come with us."
"I need to put shoes on," Veronica replied. She headed toward the bedroom, and reappeared a moment later, grimacing at the hiking boots on her feet.
She and Chuck followed the two airmen outside. A blue Jeep Cherokee, with the insignia of the Canadian Air Force on the door, was parked on the dirt path between the cabin and the runway. The airmen opened the two back doors, holding them open for Chuck and Veronica.
Chuck leaned over to Veronica as they got into the Jeep, and spoke quickly and quietly. "I think things just got a little more complicated."
12:00 P.M., Pacific Daylight Time
Seattle, Washington
Sarah and Casey sat on a bed in a room at the Fairmont Olympic Hotel. Arthur Graham sat on the other bed, facing them. His face was downcast.
"There's not much we can do right at the moment," he said quietly. "They're on a Fulcrum base fairly deep inside Canada."
"So what's the problem?" Sarah asked insistently. "We go in there, we extract them. End of story."
"It's not that simple," Graham replied. "It's an active Canadian Air Force field. Conducting an operation against it would constitute an act of war."
"So what the hell do we do?" Casey protested. "We can't just sit here while Fulcrum does God-knows-what to Bartowski and Mars!"
"We don't have a choice," Graham said. "Right now, all that we can do is have the President lodge a diplomatic protest with the Canadian government, but I don't think that even that is going to do us much good."
"Why the hell not?" Sarah replied. "Aren't we on generally friendly terms with Canada?"
"For the most part, yes," was the answer. "However… I have a little birdie formerly known as Fulcrum Command locked in the basement of Langley who tells me that the second in command, who is now technically Fulcrum Command, was the Prime Minister of Canada."
Sarah and Casey's jaws both dropped as they stared at Graham. "The Prime Minister of Canada is in charge of Fulcrum?" Sarah finally asked.
Casey shook his head. "So, who was the old Fulcrum Command, and how'd you get your hands on him?"
"Uh, her, actually," Graham said, inclining his head toward Casey.
His face took on a look of disgust. "GENERAL BECKMAN?!"
Graham nodded. "Forget you ever heard that, Major Casey. In fact, both of you need to just forget about all of this for now. Go back to Los Angeles, and wait for word from me."
He rose and crossed to the hotel room door. "Take no action. Don't do anything stupid. Don't start a war."
Sarah stood to her feet. "Come on, Director Graham," she objected, "do you honestly think we'd start a war to get Chuck and Veronica back?"
He looked at her, and then at Casey. "Major Casey, no. I don't think he would. You, on the other hand…"
Director Graham looked Sarah in the eyes. "I definitely think you would."
