Scene XXX – Buy More
The Buy More employees stood in a straight line in front of the wall of plasma television screens, as if awaiting a military inspection. Big Mike impatiently tapped his foot about ten feet away, looking around the store as if waiting for someone.
Digital watches from three or four employees gave a series of beeps, indicating it was 10 am.
Big Mike exploded, quickly locating Lester in the line. "Where the hell is Jeff?!"
Lester looked confused. "What?!"
"I asked, 'Where the hell is Jeff?'"
Lester looked at Big Mike as if he were nuts. "He's right there," he said, pointing to his left. Sure enough, Jeff stood immediately to the left of Lester.
It was Big Mike's turn to look confused. "Oh. Sorry." He took two steps over to stand in front of Jeff. "Force of habit, what with you being late to every meeting for the last six months." His tone sounded angrier as he tried to recapture his normal demeanor.
His face turned confused again as he examined Jeff. "There's something different about you today." He stared at Jeff suspiciously.
There was certainly something different about Jeff's appearance. His eyes were focused and clear. His shirt was neatly pressed and tucked in. Oddest of all, his hair seemed less … frizzy … than normal.
Big Mike eyed him like a drill sergeant examining a recruit. In a quiet voice that only Jeff, Lester, Chuck and Morgan could hear, he asked, "You shower today?
Jeff nodded.
"You shave?"
Jeff nodded again.
In a disconcerting move, Big Mike put his nose by Jeff's mouth and sniffed. "Your breath doesn't smell like beer."
Looking a bit uncomfortable with Big Mike's nose so close to his mouth, Jeff nodded again.
Big Mike looked puzzled again. Then the answer came to him.
"You got some last night, didn't you," he whispered in Jeff's ear with a bit of a sly smile.
Jeff just grinned.
"About time. Maybe you can teach your buddy Lester a thing or two about women." The smile disappeared as he leaned back to look Jeff in the eye. "Just keep it out of the store."
As Big Mike walked away, Chuck took the opportunity to check the store for Lisa. She wasn't in line; he remembered that it was her day off. It was probably a good thing that she missed that particular exchange. Still, he was now very curious about the date between the two.
Big Mike addressed the group in his usual intense tone. "As you know, Thursday is Valentine's Day. So what does this mean?"
"Hallmark cards with pithy sayings?" Lester asked bitterly.
"Overpriced flowers and stale chocolates?" said another employee.
"Men desperately trying to meet ridiculously high romantic expectations?"
"Commercials trying to convince men they'll get laid if they buy jewelry?" Chuck guessed.
"Wait, it's not a sure thing?" Morgan whispered to him.
"Of course not."
"Crap!"
Big Mike cut them off, shouting, "Wrong!" He reconsidered. "Well, right, but that wasn't what I was talking about. It means a slow stream of male customers buying romantic comedies or mid-sized household appliances in a misguided effort to find an appropriate last-minute gift.
"It also means that any men pathetic enough not to be able to get a date will come here Thursday night looking for fulfillment in the form of overpriced video games, stereo systems and big screen TVs. We're talking sad and lonely men, so depressed over being alone that they can be easily manipulated into a major purchase."
"Always knew you were the hopeless romantic, big guy," Morgan barbed.
"Shut up!"
Morgan tried to look like he was taken aback, but couldn't completely conceal his amusement.
Big Mike finished giving him a dark look before continuing. "We need to set up the store to take advantage. Now, I want to divide you guys into two teams. Anyone who has a date on Valentine's Day, step over here with me. Anyone who doesn't, move over by the wall."
After digesting what Big Mike said, people started moving. When they were finished, everyone in the store stood with Big Mike … except for Lester and Fernando, an overweight freckle-faced employee with a cherubic face and very curly, reddish hair.
Big Mike chuckled. "Wow, I see only two of you were pathetic enough not to be able to get a date." Looking disdainfully at some of the employees in the group around him, he added, "I would have definitely taken the 'over' on that bet."
Lester stared at the floor, obviously embarrassed. Fernando looked surprisingly unbothered.
Big Mike said, "After seeing Lester in action, I'm not surprised to find him alone, but what's your story, Fernando?"
"Actually, sir, my girlfriend has to work on Thursday night. We're celebrating on Friday instead."
Big Mike's expression became impressed. "Anyone who can attract a girlfriend with a face like that must have some serious game. C'mon over here."
Disconcerted by the back-handed compliment, Fernando nevertheless walked across to join the other group. Lester was left standing alone.
"Patel, we need insight into how it must feel to be alone on Valentine's Day. I want you to focus on the soul-crushing depression you must feel knowing that you will be alone on Valentine's Day. Try to think about what you might want to buy to try to temporarily distract yourself from the pain and embarrassment of not being able to get a date. I mean, really try to tap into the…"
Despite everything Lester had done over the time they had worked together, Chuck actually felt a little sorry for the guy. He tried to derail Big Mike. "I don't mean to criticize, but isn't it a bit late to try to capitalize on what's likely to be a pretty small holiday rush? I mean, when people think 'Valentine's Day', Buy More doesn't exactly spring to mind."
Big Mike glared at Chuck. "You do your job, Bartowski, I'll do mine."
Having accomplished his goal, Chuck simply replied. "Gotcha."
"Group 1, we obviously have too many people on our team; we just need three of you." Big Mike tapped three of the employees randomly on the shoulder, grabbing two men and one woman. "Start thinking about what in the Buy More screams out 'Valentine's gift'. Lester, Group 1, I want a list of ideas on my desk in one hour. Bonus points if you come up with a snappy slogan we can put on a banner."
Big Mike paused to glare at his employees one last time before commanding, "Dismissed!" He headed for his office at a quick pace.
The Buy More employees were a bit more leisurely in getting where they needed to go, with the notable exception of Lester, who quickly fled back to the cage. Several of the guys walked up to Jeff, curious about his date with Lisa. Jeff lapped up the attention.
Morgan accompanied Chuck back to the Nerd Herd desk, staring at Chuck accusingly the whole way. Chuck gave him a quizzical glance or two before finally asking, "What?"
"Why did you rescue Lester like that?"
Chuck shrugged. "I didn't like what Big Mike was doing."
"C'mon, after everything that Lester pulled, you weren't enjoying watching him squirm even a little? For crying out loud, you were the guy who taped him hitting on Lisa!"
The pair stopped near the desk; Chuck turned to face Morgan.
"That was different; that was Lester digging his own grave. What Big Mike was doing was wrong."
"Who cares?! After all the crap Lester's pulled: the arrogance, the insults, the blackmail … he deserves to be taken down a few pegs."
"Wrong is wrong, Morgan. It doesn't matter whether the guy deserves it or not."
"Wow, you are a better person than me."
Chuck stared wisely at his friend. "You do realize that you and I would have been standing over there with Lester if the talk had happened last year. Or the year before that, or the year before that…"
"No need to rub in our collective dating ineptitude."
"So, wouldn't you have wanted somebody to stand up for you if Big Mike was doing that to you?"
Morgan looked unconvinced, but he was starting to give it some serious thought. "I guess."
Chuck smiled, glad that he had finally gotten through to his friend.
"Besides," Morgan continued, "it's not like Lester would ever change."
"What's that?"
"It's not like anything Big Mike could say or do would change the type of person Lester is. Or any of us, for that matter. We've all been doing what we've been doing for so long that we've become conditioned to being a certain way. After long enough, it becomes impossible for a person to change."
Chuck's mind immediately jumped to Sarah. In order for the two of them to date, Sarah would need to get past years and years of CIA training and conditioning. He hadn't really considered that at all.
Would she be able to do it?
Morgan said, "I don't know, man. What do you think? Can people really change that much?"
I'll find out soon enough, Chuck thought. I'll find out soon enough.
Scene XXXI – Casey's Apartment
After his short shift, Chuck reported to Casey's a bit nervously. Casey was a bit unpredictable when he got ticked off, and Carina's stunt the previous night likely had him in a bad mood.
He was pleasantly surprised to find Casey and Carina sitting civilly in the living room of Casey's apartment. A focused Casey was using the communications array to file his daily report. A bored Carina was paging through the contents of a manila file folder.
"Hey," Chuck greeted the pair.
"Bartowski," Casey responded perfunctorily.
"What's going on?"
Carina gave Chuck a disgusted look. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing." Her expression brightened. "Although, now that you're here…"
Casey turned around and directed an icy stare at Carina, who for the first time since Chuck had known her, managed to look meek. "…absolutely nothing will happen," she finished lamely.
Chuck looked back and forth between the two agents. On one hand, he was curious what in the world Casey could possibly have said to tame the mercurial agent. It was obvious that serious threats were involved.
On the other hand, he was really tired of Casey playing such a large role in defining the boundaries of his love life.
He went and sat down next to Carina on the couch, deliberately sitting closer to Carina than he would have normally. A small, sly smile crept across her face as she leaned over the folder in her lap.
Casey grunted, and not in an amused way.
"What's that?" Chuck asked Carina, as much to rile Casey further as from any real interest.
"Oh, just an old file of my unsolved cases. Having nothing else to do," she glared at Casey, "I thought I'd go back through them to keep the details fresh in my head."
She peeled back a page of a report, revealing a 5x7 glossy picture of a balding man with a deep tan and an incredibly white set of teeth.
Chuck felt his eyes narrow and cross slightly as a flash of images began.
An image of an eagle perched on a tall tree.
The pages of a dossier on the man, including suspected aliases, accomplices, and crimes.
The tanned man walking a red carpet, a beautiful young blond woman on his arm, waving to photographers with a huge grin on his face.
A series of images, likely taken by paparazzi, of the man flashing huge grins at various functions around Los Angeles and Hollywood.
The balding man speaking from a podium in front of a warehouse at the Port of Los Angeles, giving a speech to several hundred people seated in neatly arranged folding chairs.
A posh Hollywood restaurant: the man shared lunch with a square-jawed gentleman in an expensive suit and neatly-coiffed hair.
A video of a shipping container being offloaded from a large ship.
A coded message with a translation underneath describing how a particular drug shipment is coming to Los Angeles.
Surveillance of the man, obviously angry, walking with several men carrying what looks like a body wrapped in trash bags.
The eagle perched on the tall tree.
Without really thinking, Chuck babbled, "Jaime Veron, a.k.a. Jamie Greenwood, a.k.a. Jamie Limelight for his love of the spotlight. South American drug smuggler of indeterminate origin; claims to be a shipping magnate. Known for his love of being seen in the highest social circles even while being a major drug supplier to southern California. Top ten on the DEA's domestic most-wanted list."
Casey, realizing what had just happened, groaned audibly.
Carina stared at Chuck with new appreciation. "Number three, actually. Wow, what are you, some kind of idiot savant?" she asked breathlessly.
Casey interjected, "Well, you got the 'idiot' part right."
Sorting through the flash, Chuck asked, "What, this guy hangs out with movie stars and you guys can't nail him?"
"We've got almost nothing on him. I thought I had him dead-to-rights about a year ago; we received a tip from an informer and intercepted one of his shipping containers at the dock. There was nothing in there but textiles."
"So, why not just stake this guy out?"
She grimaced. "That was the third time the DEA conducted a surprise inspection on one of Veron's shipping containers, and the third time we came up completely empty. The whole thing turned political. Drew Jennings stepped in to apologize on behalf of the Port of Los Angeles and to ensure that the DEA would cause no further embarrassment." Carina placed a bitter emphasis on the last word. "We haven't been able to get any operations approved on Veron ever since."
"Did you say, 'Drew Jennings'?" Chuck asked weakly. Drew Jennings was the U.S. Representative from the 46th Congressional district. He appeared with Veron in one of the pictures, and there was additional information on him in the flash.
Carina didn't appear to hear him; she was too busy processing what had just happened. "Wait, you guys have intel on Veron?!" she asked in an exasperated voice, looking back and forth between the two men. "We make requests on our most-wanted lists to you guys on a weekly basis; how come we haven't seen your file?"
Casey cleared his throat, causing the other two to turn and look at him. "Excuse us for a minute," he said to Carina with deliberate calmness.
"Casey, if you guys have intel…"
"Carina, outside. I need to have a word with Bartowski. We'll talk about it later."
"You better believe we will." She stalked angrily out of the apartment into the courtyard, slamming the door behind her.
Given the controlled way that Casey had spoken, Chuck was well-prepared when the outburst came. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Casey asked Chuck intensely.
"What? I saw something, I flashed."
"Trying to impress your new girl is more like it."
"New girl?! You've got to be kidding."
"Oh, I heard all about your little evening together."
Chuck squared his shoulders. "Assuming she told you the truth, you heard about how I turned her down when she tried to get me into bed. Something you could learn something from, I might add."
"Well, seems like we've grown a pair. Might want to be careful when you use them, or you might lose them."
Casey had threatened Chuck so many times that he found it easy to shrug it off. "Oh, please, you…"
"Just stop. We've got bigger fish to fry. I need to go call General Beckman so we can figure out how to repair the damage."
"Damage?! What damage?"
"You revealed Intersect intel to an unauthorized DEA agent. Right now, I bet dollars to donuts Carina is on the phone with her boss, who will soon be calling Beckman to raise hell about why that intel wasn't passed along to them. Not to mention that you let her see you flash. See any problems there?"
Chuck's skin suddenly grew clammy. There were definitely a couple of problems there.
He had screwed up in a big way.
Scene XXXII – Merida, Hacienda, Room 12
Bryce sat in the wicker chair in the corner, finishing a second review of Moreno and Varela's conversation. He had been unable to glean much new information from the additional reviews.
Moreno and Varela were clearly smart enough to talk in general terms to avoid saying anything incriminating. However, he did learn that the person they were meeting was traveling in from the west by car, something he missed the first time through. It wasn't much, but an agent never knew what might turn out to be important.
He was anxious to have Sarah listen to the footage as well. He had never been as strong with languages as Sarah, so he was willing to concede that he might have missed some of the subtleties in Spanish. The second pair of ears would be useful, and there had been a couple of words he wasn't certain he translated correctly.
As the conversation drew to a close, he stopped the playback and set the headphones on top of both the receiver and the gun on the small table next to him. Taking a break, he leaned back and scanned the limited space of the room, smiling when he saw the neat pile of Sarah's belongings in the opposite corner of the room. It was good to have her back at his side, for all kinds of reasons.
Bryce was frazzled. Ever since the day that he had received the order to destroy the Intersect and take its data, he couldn't trust anyone ... except Chuck, and that did him precious little good day-to-day. He couldn't trust his fellow agents, he could trust Graham, and he couldn't even trust Sarah.
After spending months in a coma, Bryce had awakened to find himself in a CIA detention facility, barely able to remember anything about his time in the overseas clinic. By some miracle, he had ended up with Chuck and Sarah. Those had been the only times when he was around people that he could trust to any degree … but not enough to be able to relax and confide in them.
It had only gotten worse after he left Los Angeles . Living every day without anyone he could trust at all had proven exhausting. Spending his time chasing down Fulcrum, Bryce literally had to completely distrust every person he came into contact with. He could never let his guard down.
When his missions were more traditional, he at least had some moments where he was able to relax. When he was in safe territory, he could retreat into the comfortable anonymity of his cover as a road warrior bank executive. He didn't have those moments any more.
However, if Sarah joined him, he'd have somebody to watch his back. He could bounce ideas off of her. He could decompress.
He could trust her.
Agents couldn't afford to trust other agents, so they never did. They learned to insulate themselves, even from their partners. It wasn't personal; it was about survival.
However, if Sarah came along with him, their situation would change those rules. They would be deep under cover, so much so that trusting each other would be paramount.
It was a large leap of faith for an agent, but after seeing Sarah in Los Angeles, Bryce knew he could trust her. If she was Fulcrum, she would have eliminated him or captured Chuck. And once they were off the reservation, they were accountable only to themselves.
Bryce was frazzled; he couldn't do this on his own. He needed somebody he could trust. He needed Sarah, and he intended to convince her to join him.
Luckily, he knew how she worked. He knew what buttons to push and how hard to push them.
He had started the process when he shadowed her in the airport. Letting himself be seen was just part of the game: Sarah had a competitive spirit, and she loved to win. When she won, she relaxed. She enjoyed herself. She laughed.
Some of his efforts were a bit transparent. Sarah was sharp enough to pick up on just how many things he had arranged more for fun than for practicality, but that didn't matter. The thought was what mattered: reminding her how well he knew what she loved.
Tonight, they would attack their mission with their usual skill, and the pair would come out on top, as they always did. Their service record as a team was unmatched because of consummate professionalism and their perfectly complementary natures. They were terrific agents when they were apart, but they were absolutely devastating when working together.
Sarah couldn't deny any of that, and as calculating and dedicated as she was, her sense of duty would win out.
Even if that didn't happen, he was confident he could rekindle her feelings for him, given a couple of days. The process had already started; he had seen her wandering the room in a distracted daze earlier as she got ready to head into town. He recognized that look from just before they got together: she was processing her feelings on a subconscious level, probably unaware that she was thinking about him.
One way or another, be it her sense of duty or her feelings for him, he knew he could convince her to join him.
The bolt on the door turned. Lost in his thoughts of Sarah, Bryce awkwardly went for the gun on the table next to him, knocking the receiver to the ground in his haste. The receiver shattered as it hit the ground. He cursed himself under his breath, but forced himself to focus his eyes and his aim on the door.
There was a long pause, and the door burst open. Sarah used the door jamb as cover as she pointed her gun into the room, focusing on Bryce until she recognized him. She adjusted her aim slightly.
Bryce let the barrel of the gun drop, setting his piece back on the table. He leaned forward and looked regretfully at the remnants of the receiver on the floor. "Damnit!" he cursed.
Sarah didn't move; she stayed behind the cover, keeping the gun pointed in his direction.
His heart stopped. Had he misjudged her?
Then it came to him. "Chocolate syrup," he said. Sarah relaxed and put her gun away, stepping back outside to retrieve two shopping bags.
Back when the two were partners, the two used the code phrase to indicate the two were alone. There had been a situation where a concealed man had a gun trained on him, and he had been forced to try to use her eyes to warn her. The gunman had noticed; had Sarah not heard the scuff of his shoe against a floor vent in the hotel room, she wouldn't have been walking into the room to join Bryce now.
She set the pair bags on the bed, looking down at the useless scattering of electronics. "Smooth move, Bryce," she said teasingly.
Despite his embarrassment, he smiled. "Yeah, not one of my finer moments," he replied drily. As he dropped to one knee to start to clean up the mess, he fervently hoped he had gotten everything he needed from the conversation: Sarah wasn't going to get a chance to listen to it.