As always I own nothing, make no money from this and bow before the genius that is Chuck Lorre, Bill Prady, Steven Molaro, and all of the writers, actors and crew that bring the TBBT to life. Thank you.
Its beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Those of the group not heading home for Christmas break decided to rent a large chalet at Mount Waterman for two weeks. The snow accumulation was fairly impressive since LA was well on its way to breaking the record for precipitation that year and the snow was well over 3 feet by mid November. We ended up with 11 of us sharing 6 bedrooms. The others had paired off so I took the smallest room for myself. It had a fireplace and a view of the valley so it was well worth it.
I ski, but I am indifferent about it. I mean I will take the smallest excuse to stay in the chalet and read in front of the fire.
Why would that be important to my story because that is how I met Maya Dufour, a visiting professor at UCLA, and also on the mountain with colleagues to ski their Christmas break away. Apparently Maya had been skiing on one of the advanced trails when her binding broke. The errant ski then became tangled with her other ski and down she went. She had limped down the trail, soaked from the snow bank she had ended up in, and headed for the first light she could see, which was our chalet. I let her in after two knocks and helped her to amble to a spot in front of the fire place. I grabbed three blankets and as many towels and set out to determine what needed to be done. I had her stand and start removing her clothes, and to protect her modesty I held one of the blankets up in front of me so that she was between the blanket and the fireplace. She giggled at this and continued to strip. After drying her self off and wrapping one of the towels around her head, I wrapped her up in two of the blankets and set her down in the dry chair by the fire. I ran my hand down her leg, checking for damage and looking into her eyes to see if she winced. She was staring back at me just as intently until I tried to rotate her right foot. The word she muttered was in French but even if had not known what "Merde" had meant the look on her face would have clued me. Upon closer inspection I could see the ankle was already swelling and was sporting a nice sized bruise.
I called the Ski Lodge and Maya let her friends know where she was. They had offered to come get her but the local doctor had asked her to stay put until she could get out there and check it closer. She did not arrive for almost 3 hours and by then Maya and I were fast friends. Other that being French Maya was nothing like Nicolette. Nicolette had been blonde and willowy, Maya was brunette and built for snuggling. We spent most of the next 10 days in front of the fireplace, me in my thermal socks and she in her ever fashionable walking cast. We had a lot of good times together but when March rolled around she returned to France. Both of us promised to visit in the future but we knew it was not that kind of relationship. I will say this though, while Nicolette taught me a lot about pleasing a woman, Maya refined that and taught me how to enjoy a woman as well. My friends were distraught that I was once again single. What they did not realize was that with them in my life I was never really alone. Besides I was only turning 25, I had plenty of time to find someone to share my life with.
This kind of thing never happens to me.
My alone time was short. Her name was Joyce Kim and she had been hanging out with the group for almost a month when Maya returned to France. Joyce was unlike most women I had dated in that she was almost 5 inches shorter and lithe. That she was relentless in her pursuit of me had a lot do with my agreeing to go on a date with her. She was interested in everything about me, especially the scars and what had caused them. I would find her subtly bringing the conversation back to that time repeatedly.
During one of her overnight visits Sheldon had complained that I was moving his things around at night had been in his room. At first I put this down to one of his new quirks. Then I started noticing small changes when I woke in the morning or returned from work. Just for my own well being I borrowed one of James Bond's tricks and put a damp hair along the edge of my closed door to see if it was opened while I was out. It was. I remembered that old line "just because your paranoid doesn't mean someone isn't out to get you". Using a landline located in one of the radiation labs (lead blocks cell signal and radiation plays havoc with the equipment even at low doses), I called a number the DOD supplied during my last debriefing for just this kind of event. Operator 12 was all the person on the other end said so I gave them my id number. Imagine my surprise when the next voice on the other end was Captain Wilkes and all he said was "took you long enough".
As it turned out Sheldon and I had been under loose surveillance for several months because of the blogger and other odd events in my life that were suspicious. They had found some interesting things. The North Koreans had planted several agents at Cal Tech when the DOD first gave the jet fuel to me to test. Mostly the group seemed to follow, observe and gather intel. It was them that had done the blogging, they had also let the press know various info about me that I could not dispute due to security reasons. The DOD security team believed that they were trying to get me to take a more anti-social stance so they could more easily manipulate me when Joyce Kim started dating me. Whether it was to get information from me or to go as far as to get me to defect they were not sure. Then they told me the plan to get Sheldon away from the apartment for the next couple of weeks. Sheldon had been invited by the Pacific Institute of Theoretical Physics at the University of British Columbia to participate in a symposium on M-Theory. To sweeten the pot the travel arrangements included taking the Amtrak Coast Starlight from LA to Vancouver, and following the end of the symposium riding the ferry from Vancouver to Fairbanks , Alaska. He was to depart in 5 days and would be gone almost 3 weeks. The travel arrangements were for a plus one and Amy had been able to clear her schedule to go with him. They were both looking forward to the trip. The DOD team had big plans for me. I was to fall hard for Joyce and was to offer a demonstration of the rocket fuel I had designed by firing a small three stage rocket off in the nearby onion fields. They would have people nearby at all times but to be convincing they had to be careful. I suggested that we use the highly volatile version of the fuel just in case something should happen. They agreed.
Two weeks later I had finally agreed to Joyce's request to see my work. I was carrying three test tubes of the old fuel inside of a portable cigar case that kept the tubes immobile. Joyce was going to meet me in the park so we could launch the rocket. Imagine my surprise when I opened the door and there she was with a man standing beside her. He was wearing dark sunglasses and a ball cap. Joyce pushed me against the door and the man patted me down, finding the cigar case and carefully taking it out of my pocket. He opened one of the test tubes and dipped a small glass rod into the gel. Sealing the test tube up he then took the glass rod and dipped it into yet another vial that turned grey, then dark blue, and then black. His quick nod at Joyce told me they were satisfied with the product. That is when I saw the stiletto blade in Joyce's hand. This was not to be a kidnapping but a mugging gone wrong. I would die and no one would ever know they had the fuel. I grabbed for the knife throwing myself forward and knocking Joyce's associate to the ground. That is when Louie came barreling out of his apartment and tried to get the knife from Joyce. To this day I am not sure what exactly happened but Joyce had broken loose and rammed the stiletto into Louis's rib cage, he then pulled Joyce into a choke hold and during the struggle they fell back into the waiting elevator. Joyce's henchman was crawling around trying to grab the test tubes that had scattered and hearing Louie and Joyce still struggling grabbed the two closest test tubes and took off down the steps. I turned and saw that Joyce had been unable to break Louie's hold and was dead. Louie still held her tight even though he had passed out. I hit the emergency button on my phone and was instantly talking to the Captain. I told him Louie was bleeding heavily in the elevator and that I was pretty sure Joyce was dead. I had my finger plugging the hole in Louie's chest. The Captain had me hit the down button and then pull the alarm when we were between floors. Five minutes later I was told to let the elevator proceed and the doors opened. We were in the lobby and four rather serious looking men were waiting for us. One was pushing a laundry cart with the logo of a local uniform supply company towards me. Joyce was dumped in to it and covered and one left the lobby for a waiting van. I got a look of approval from Two when he saw I plugged my finger into Louie's wound (I had heard of a sucking chest wound and new if air was allowed in his lung might collapse). Two gave Louie a quick look, plugged and dressed the wound. A moment later two and three left the lobby with Louie between them. Four was pissed. The elevator was covered in blood and there was no way he could clean it out before it was discovered. I asked if they had cleared the basement , finding the answer to be yes I told him I was going to ride the elevator to the basement and he was to open the doors to the shaft as soon as he heard the elevator stop. Once in the basement I popped open the maintenance hatch in the elevator ceiling in time to see Four open the shaft. I opened the test tube missed by the henchman and carefully laid it on the carpet right below the hatch. With the alarm blaring I got out of elevator and let the doors close. On reaching the lobby I grabbed a large bottle of water that was on the cleaning cart and opened it. I told Four that once I dropped the bottle he was to let the elevator close and get the hell away from the doors. He didn't argue and followed me in my dive away from the door. Nothing happened so I signaled him to keep moving. He was just asking me "what the hell" when there was a large whomp and the elevator door bulged. We headed out to the van and he asked me what exactly that was. I gave him the standard response when you don't want to alarm the public. "Gas Leak". He just smiled and we got the heck out of there.
Later that day, after the arson squad and Homeland Security checked out the blast it was determined it was just a gas leak that had been triggered when the elevator had reached the basement. The underground pipe that had caused the build up was repaired. Case closed.
The debriefing on this one was rather intense since no one saw Joyce or her henchman enter the building, security was questioned. Turns out Joyce had taken over an empty apartment on the 5th floor so they could access my apartment with less chance of being observed. It was 4 days before they told me Louie (not his real name) was recuperating and would be vacating the apartment for a new job in Seattle (again not his real destination). I would miss Louie. I mean the sight of a man his size wearing a bright yellow chiffon robe was a bit startling, but he made a great cup of coffee and always had good information on what horse to bet on at the track. Apartment 4B was once again empty.