A/N: Ok. I've decided. It might not be so bad for Mr. Colt to own Chuck.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Earlier the same day
Frankie and Marty sat in the SUV and watched the front entrance of the hotel. Pretty boring. People came and went. Parking valets and bellmen greeted everyone with huge Disney smiles. Frankie estimated that he'd be able to work there for about ninety minutes until he told someone to fuck off.
A school bus with campers pulled up and began to unload the children. Watching the counselors trying to herd the little ones reminded him of new recruits to the Iraqi Army. He couldn't hear any of their admonitions, as the car's engine was running and the windows closed – a necessary arrangement given the August heat.
Marty, in the driver's seat, held the steering wheel lightly and watched Frankie tap his fingers on the armrest between them.
"Knock it off. You're making me nervous," he said, looking at the tapping fingers.
"No, I'm not. Nothing makes you nervous. You're just trying to make conversation. I'll bet you were going insane in the cell in the black site. You had no one to talk to," said Frankie.
"I was working on my novel...in my head, I mean," said Marty.
"Well, talk to the Colonel. He let Jack call Tiffany to check on Julia. Could be he's got a heart under that tough guy act. Maybe when we go back inside he'll give you paper and crayons to write with. You can get your story written."
"Crayons?" said Marty, with a chuckle.
"Sure. You can kill someone with a pencil, you know," said Frankie. Both men laughed a bit.
"You think we're really going back in, like Chuck said?" asked Marty, seriously. He was looking at the hotel entrance, without really seeing it.
"Yeah. I think we are. We can pull a runner I guess, but they'd track us down eventually. It's because of Fulcrum and the Intersect. It's not the gig at Fort Meade that's the problem. It's because we know about the other stuff. If it was just Meade we'd be handled by the DOJ. Lawyers and a trial and all that shit. But for us, with what we know, it's a deep dark hole in the ground. We're dangerous to national security. I guess we should be happy that we didn't just catch a 9mm in the back of the head."
"Yeah, I agree. So, here's what I figure, Frankie. The only way out is through. We have to do everything we can to take down Fulcrum. It's the only way to get our lives back. Maybe with them out of the picture we can get a set prison sentence and walk away eventually. I don't love the idea of prison, but I also don't love the idea of being on the run forever. And they said they'd kill us if we did run."
"I doubt Chuck would do that, but some of the rest of them would do it in a minute. I think Forrest is stone-cold. She reminds me a little of that Evans guy who got thrown off the teams a few years ago. Remember him? And that Fitz guy has a real hard-on for us," said Frankie.
"Yeah," said Marty. After thinking about that quietly for a few moments, he said, "Guess I don't blame him entirely." He sounded pensive, maybe a little sad.
"Yeah...hey, look alive."
Two long black limousines pulled up to the front of the hotel and began to unload a crew of hard men.
In their ears they heard Chuck say, "Guys, heads up. Something is happening. All our cameras have just gone black."
Frankie touched his watch and said, "Two limos pulling up. Guys getting out. Looks like a dozen or so. Suits. Looks from here like some of them ...maybe all of them...are packing."
They watched the men hustle a gray-haired guy inside and the limos begin to pull away from the front of the hotel. In an instant everything changed.
"Dammit... Frankie," said Chuck, urgently, "can you get a look? They are bugging out. Something spooked them. See if you...NO, Forrest, stand down."
They saw the limos abruptly stop. They watched as the men started to come back out and head to the cars, guns in hand. Even with the windows closed they heard the distant pops of gunfire from inside the hotel lobby.
Frankie said, "I can't spot the guy they are protecting, but Marty and I are following them now. We'll keep in touch." The radios he and his team had used when on operations were voice activated, but the NSA watches the spies used weren't. In the excitement of the moment, Frankie forgot to trigger his watch's microphone.
The SUV pulled out of the parking lot and followed the limos at a distance. They headed south and turned left onto West Katella Avenue. Ater a few blocks the little procession came to I-5 and took the entrance to head south.
Frankie touched his watch and said, "Chuck, the limos are heading south on 5." There was no response. "Chuck? Chuck? Colonel? Anyone?" Turning to look at Marty he said, "Shit. What are the ranges of these things?"
"How the hell do I know? These are superspy devices out of a James Bond movie. Whatever it is, I think we must be out of range or something."
"Yeah. Well, at least we told him we were following the limos. He can track this car from its GPS so he knows where the Fulcrum guys are."
After a while the limos split up. After a brief discussion, they decided continue to follow the one they were behind. They didn't know which one had the gray-haired man, so it was a 50/50 chance.
The car they were following left the busy commercial area and began to make its way through a warehouse section of the city. Quiet and mostly empty.
"Don't like this too much," said Marty.
"No shit. And they didn't give us guns."
"You made your thing this morning though," said Marty.
"Like that's going to stop a professional spy with a weapon pointed at my center of mass," said Frankie.
"Fair point, dude," said Marty.
After another turn, Marty said, "Shit. This is definitely a trap. Probably up ahead."
Frankie took off his seatbelt and said, "Yeah. I'll bail where we're blocked from them by the van." As the SUV passed a large delivery van, Frankie opened his door and threw himself out of the car, curling into a ball and rolling to dissipate the momentum of the moving car.
Marty continued to follow the limo and found himself in a dead end. The limo had stopped and six men in suits had spread out across the road. All had guns in their hands pointed at Marty through the windshield of the SUV. 'Well, this sucks,' he thought to himself.
He inched the car forward, unlocked his door and took off his seatbelt, opening the door but holding it slightly ajar with the fingertips of his left hand. Two of the men split to stand on either side of the slowly moving car. Just as the bumper of the SUV passed by the men standing on the side, he jammed his foot down on the accelerator and the car leapt forward to hit the two men in front of him. He immediately jammed his foot on the brake. The sudden stop launched the driver's side door open to slam into the man at his side, knocking him to the pavement.
Marty instantly bailed out of the car and kicked the stunned man on the ground in the jaw. He grabbed the man's weapon and turned to the other men, crouching and keeping behind the car. One was getting up from having been hit by the car. Using the captured gun, Marty shot him in the shoulder of his gun hand.
One of the men on the far side moved to flank Marty by coming around the back of the car. A stone hit the man's head and bounced about a foot into the air. The man went down as if shot.
The remaining three men turned to look for the source of the stone. Marty shot one of them in the hip. A second stone flew in and knocked out one of the others.
One man left. That man took a shot at Frankie. Marty took a wild shot at the man, forcing him to keep his head down but turn back to look at him, Marty. Frankie used that distraction to hit the man from behind with a roundhouse kick.
"Clear this side," called out Marty.
"Yeah. Here too," said Frankie in response.
Marty stood up and looked at his friend. In one hand, held loosely, Frankie had a long leather strap with a leather pocket formed in the center. It was a sling, such as David had used to topple Goliath. Marty pointed to it with a grin and said, "I will officially stop teasing you about that damn toy."
The man at Marty's feet began to stir. Marty kicked him again and he stopped stirring.
"No, you won't," said Frankie.
"Yeah. Probably not."
They bent to check on the six Fulcrum agents they had taken out.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Doctor Eleanor Bartowski was done for the day and looking forward to a sushi dinner with Chuck and Sarah. She had to drop her notes on her desk, change out of her scrubs and white coat, and head home. Devon had gone home earlier and would have a cold glass of wine ready for her.
She opened the door to her office and was startled to see two men waiting for her. One was broad shouldered and blond, with movie star looks. He could have been one of Devon's brothers. The other was somewhat shorter, with a dark buzz cut and glasses. Their hands were held out in front of them and opened, as if it was important to them that she know they held nothing.
She glanced at the side table in the office and saw the pistol. She froze. At that moment, she recognized the men from Colt's attack at Fort Meade. The man with the glasses was Martin Something, the man with the plate in his head that the others had been forced to leave behind.
Softly, Martin said, "Good afternoon, Dr. Bartowski. Please close the door. What we have to discuss is private."
Stepping into the room, she did so.
"Thank you. Please pick up the gun on the table and point it at us. There is a bullet in the chamber and the safety is off, so, if you wouldn't mind, please do not put your finger on the trigger until you intend to shoot one of us. After the day we've had it would really suck to be shot by accident."
She looked at the gun for a moment and then back at the men. Unmoving, she said, "Why?"
"Because we want you to feel comfortable. We don't want you nervous during this conversation. If you are holding us at gunpoint, we figured you would be able to listen to us without concern for your own safety."
Nodding once, almost to herself, Ellie stepped forward and took the gun off the table. Careful not to point it at the men, she turned it to the side and looked at the safety switch. She pushed it to "S" and slipped the pistol into the pocket of her white coat.
Leaning back with her butt against the table she crossed her arms over her chest. "Go ahead, Martin," she said neutrally. All three knew that, even without the gun in her hand, she was in control of the conversation.
"You recognize me?"
"Colt's man from the attack at Fort Meade last winter. Can't say I expected to see you again, to be honest."
He smiled a bit. "Yeah. Well, we have your brother to thank for that. He pulled us all out of jail to help him and his team take on Fulcrum."
Ellie seemed to be thinking hard for a few moments. "Yes. Of course. Fulcrum would have sacrificed you to get the virus into the Intersect computers. You'd have revenge as a motive to help." She smiled at them. "Smart boy, my brother."
"Yes, he is," said Frankie.
"Anyway, the op went down this afternoon at the Disneyland Hotel..." said Marty.
"That shootout? That was them? Oh, shit. That's a disaster," said Ellie with concern.
"Yeah, it is. We heard about it on the news on the radio in the car. We left there before we heard what had happened. We were following some of the Fulcrum guys. We lost touch with your brother and the rest of the teams. We caught six of the guys we were following and want to get them to Carmichael but had no way to reach him."
"How'd you find me?" asked Ellie.
"Agent Walker told Mike that you were having dinner with her tonight, so we figured you were in Los Angeles. We used one of the Fulcrum guys' cell phones to call all the hospitals until we found you here at Westside."
"Where are your prisoners?"
"Tied up in the back of the SUV the Colonel assigned to us. Parked in an out of the way spot in the hospital's garage."
"Ok." She took out her phone and pushed a couple of buttons. "Hi, Chuck...I have a couple of guys with me that you want to speak to." She handed Marty the phone. "Chuck, it's Marty. I'm with Frankie. We followed the limos and took out one of them. The other one had peeled off. We've got six Fulcrum prisoners in the back of our truck...No, he must have been in the other one. Sorry... We didn't know how to get in touch with you, so we tracked down Dr. Bartowski. She was helpful enough to contact you...oh, shit. Is he ok?...Shit..." He took the phone away from his ear and said to Frankie, "Mike got shot. He's in surgery. Seems he ran through a gunfight to save a kid." Frankie shook his head in dismay. Turning back to the phone, Marty said, "Where do you want the prisoners dropped off?...Ok. Sure." He held the phone out to Ellie and said, "He wants to talk to you."
"Hi...yeah, I figured as much. Raincheck. Ran through a gunfight to save a child?...Ok. Yeah. Cross fingers, I guess...Ok. Love you, little brother."
Ellie disconnected the call and said to Marty and Frankie, as she reached for a pad on her desk, "Here, let me give you directions to the other hospital."
"Thank you, Doctor."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The next day
Ellie was at Colt's bedside. Marty and Frankie were also there, sitting in the visitor chairs.
Ellie said, "I spoke to your surgeon, Mr. Colt. He thinks you will be back on your feet within a few weeks."
"Good to hear, Dr. Bartowski."
"You saved that little boy's life. I find your courage...imposing."
"And my personality magnetic? Even though we are polar opposites?" he asked, with a twinkle of humor.
"Maybe with a tiny bit of attraction, though," said Ellie, not to be outdone.
"As impressive as you are, doctor, I'm not sure if that's a positive or a negative," he said.
"Maybe I'm just being bipolar," she said with a smile.
Jack came back into the room, interrupting the flow of magnetism puns. He was looking stunned.
"What is it?" asked Frankie, knowing Jack had been on the phone with his ex-wife to see how their daughter Julia was doing.
Jack spoke as if he could barely believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. "She's ok. I mean she's no different. But Tiffany got a call. A call from a lady named Bernstein. She runs a charity...and...and they are going to pay for Julia's transplant. The whole thing. And a hotel for Tiffany and Julia's grandma for the time...and airfare...and..and..." Jack started to cry. "And the thing is...it's called the Carmichael Foundation. I don't know how, but Chuck arranged for the government to..to do this..I..."
With a smile Ellie said, "Nope." The four men looked at her with surprise. "Hate to break it to you guys, but that's not government money. They personally set up the Carmichael Foundation yesterday. Rachel Bernstein is one of Sarah's bridesmaids. That's their personal money. Chuck, Sarah and Casey. Their company, Carmichael Industries, throws off enough money for them to … well, to do what they want. Your daughter is their first beneficiary from the new charity. You should be honored."
"Oh, my God," said Jack in awe. "Oh, my God." Marty reached out and put a hand on Jack's shoulder.
A few hours later, Ellie had gone and Chuck, Sarah and Casey came to check on Colt.
"I told you Charles Bronson. How you feeling?" asked Chuck.
"Like I got shot a bunch of times," the big man said. "But I could be worse. We heard what you did for Jack's daughter. That's some special kind of charity there. Thank you. All three of you. Thank you."
"You're welcome," said Chuck.
"She's the most important thing in my world," said Jack. "I cannot thank you all enough. I don't deserve it, but..."
"Yeah, you don't. But it's not her fault her dad's a traitor," said Casey. Chuck gave Casey a stern look and Sarah slapped him on the shoulder.
But Jack just nodded and said, "You're right. It's not."
"Anyway," said Chuck, "You guys did good yesterday. All of you. We've had some conversations with the bosses and with DNI Malone. There's a way to keep you out of the black site. Keep you out in the real world."
Colt and his men looked at him eagerly. Chuck continued, "It's like a form of supervised release. You'd be located here in Los Angeles. We'd get you jobs at Castle Studios. You'd be under the supervision of our team. Me, Casey, Sarah, Bryce and the newest member, Zondra Rizzo." Chuck saw the looks they gave him and said, "Yeah, Agent Forrest has been transferred to another assignment. Furthermore, the three of us vouched for you. If you guys try to run away or betray us, the three of us are going to be in a world of trouble with DC. So don't do that."
Colt said, "Chuck, I think I can speak for all four of us when I tell you that we will never betray you. Never. Thank you for this."
Casey growled and said, "If you guys start to sing Kumbaya I'm outta here."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
A/N2: That's a wrap. Forrest out. Zondra in. Colt and team will be around Castle Studios for Team B to tap when needed. This arc is done. Let's see what we have in store for the next arc. We've met Sarah's mom. Anyone think it's high time we met Sarah's dad?