7:15 A.M., Pacific Daylight Time
Thursday, July 24th, 2008
Dana Point, California
If there was one thing left – only one thing at all – that Eli Navarro could do in the world, he would want it to be riding.
Specifically, his 1968 Harley-Davidson FLH Electra Glide.
It had taken him five years to save up enough money just to buy a stripped down, beat up Electra Glide – and that had been occasionally interrupted by things like his dumbass cousin taking out fake credit cards in Lynn Echolls’ name, being betrayed by one of his own gang members – that kind of bullshit.
But right at the moment, as he rode north on the Pacific Coast Highway toward Los Angeles, all was right with the world. Sure, he was kind of a lone wolf these days. Yeah, he kind of had a reputation for being Logan Echolls’ bitch. Not that he cared. Logan paid him damn good money to be his bodyguard and enforcer.
Not that a “perfect” day could ever last. Hell, he’d only been on the road for twenty minutes when the Bluetooth earpiece built into his helmet began to warble.
He sighed. Why was he not surprised? A perfect day for a ride, and somebody had to interrupt it.
Truth be told, there was only one person he could think of that would call him at this time of the morning. “Answer,” he told the Bluetooth. A tone in his earpiece indicated that the call had been connected.
“That you, white girl?” he asked with a smile.
“Why, Weevil, you know me too well,” came the mocking answer.
“Special Agent Veronica Mars. What the hell is the FBI doing calling me up at seven AM on a Thursday?”
“I need your help, Weevil,” he heard.
Eli rolled his eyes. Of course she needed his help. She always needed his help. There wasn’t a day had gone by since he met the girl that he hadn’t half expected his phone to ring or for her to show up on his doorstep, asking for his help.
“We talkin’ a professional or a personal matter here?”
“Kind of both,” she replied. “I need you to be an intimidating, crass man toward me in order for a mark to come to my rescue.”
“A mark?” Weevil asked. “You want a bad guy to come riding in to rescue you from the big, bad Weevil?”
“He’s not a bad guy, he’s an asset who I’m trying to recruit,” Veronica shot back with an exasperated tone. “Now, are you gonna help me or not?”
Weevil chuckled. “It’ll cost you.”
“Well, since I need you to do this at Comic-Con… will a free three day pass do it for you?”
THAT got his attention. “Damn, girl, you must really love me.”
“San Diego Marriott, 12:00 noon,” she said. “Don’t be late.”
10:30 A.M.
San Diego Marriott
Chuck Bartowski didn’t get up as early as he might have at Comic-Cons past. That was okay, though. He didn’t expect to see anybody important that morning.
That evening, though… well, Joss Whedon and Christopher Nolan were both on his “must see” list. He was quite excited about the last-minute additions of the Firefly creator and the Batman resurrector.
He took his time getting dressed. He wanted the outfit to look just right. He’d ended up going to a fairly large number of thrift stores throughout Los Angeles to complete the outfit – and had, in reality, ended up finding the last piece at Buffalo Exchange in Pacific Beach just the night before.
A brown utility shirt, tan pants with suspenders, and black boots had been easy enough to come by. Casey had provided him with the holster and revolver – “No ammo,” Casey had growled. “You might put somebody’s eye out.”
The brown overcoat, though, had been practically impossible to find. And so, Chuck had been overjoyed to find the overcoat at Buffalo Exchange. So overjoyed, in fact, that he’d happily dropped two hundred dollars on it.
The fact of the matter was, if he was going to dress like Captain Mal Reynolds, the image had to be perfect. He had even gone so far as to get industrial strength hair gel to tame the curls and make his hair look more like Nathan Fillion’s.
Smiling at himself in the mirror, he decided he fully approved. He grabbed his cell phone and wallet off the desk – and the picture of Sarah that he always kept in the wallet slipped out, falling to the desk.
Chuck saw the picture, and froze. It had been almost six months, but he still felt like he’d been kicked in the chest whenever he saw her face. Slowly, he reached down and picked up the picture.
He smiled sadly as he looked into the photographic reproduction of Sarah’s sparkling blue eyes. “You know, I really wanted to bring you here,” he said softly after a moment of quiet. “I think you really would’ve gotten a kick out of Comic-Con. I’m pretty sure I could’ve talked you into dressing up like Princess Leia… or Inara Serra…”
Chuck laughed. “I never did get around to educating you in the ways of Joss Whedon, did I? It would’ve been great.”
He took one last look at the picture, and opened his wallet to replace it. Then, he reconsidered, and slid the picture into the left breast pocket on his shirt – right next to his heart.
He gently put his hand over the picture. Then, lifting his head, he grabbed the overcoat, shrugged into it, and headed out. It was time for the world to see Mal Reynolds.
Chuck had no idea who Devin and Morgan had decided to dress up as. He was quite certain, though, that John Casey would be dressed as himself. The NSA agent just didn’t seem to be the type to get too heavily into this sort of thing.
And so, Chuck was VERY surprised to exit the elevator into the lobby and see there waiting for him Commissioner Jim Gordon of the Gotham Police, Clark Kent, and… Captain Jack Harkness of Torchwood Three.
Chuck just sort of stared at Casey for a moment, his mouth agape. Casey would’ve been the last person he would have EVER expected to see donning the outfit of the bisexual time traveling space whore from the BBC’s Doctor Who and Torchwood series.
Casey turned to see Chuck standing across the lobby, staring at him. “Don’t you EVEN start, Bartowski,” he growled. “I happen to like Torchwood.”
Chuck raised his hands in mock surrender as he crossed the lobby. “I wasn’t gonna say a WORD,” he insisted.
He looked over at Devin. “You certainly make a convincing Clark Kent,” he told his brother-in-law-to-be.
“Oh, you haven’t seen the half of it,” Devin said with a smile, pulling his tie aside and unbuttoning three buttons to reveal a Superman t-shirt.
“Awesome,” Chuck laughed.
“Yes, it most certainly is.”
Chuck turned his attention to Morgan. “As for you… you know, you’ve got the right looks for Gary Oldman’s Jim Gordon, but… you’re just kind of short.”
“Dude!” Morgan replied. “So not cool!”
Chuck shrugged. “Just calling ‘em like I see ‘em.”
And with that, the four men headed out of the Marriott, to go next door to the convention center. It was the ninth year in a row that Chuck had been to Comic-Con, the sixth in a row with Devin and Morgan. He had gone from 2000 to 2002 with Bryce and Jill, and then after being stabbed in the back by the two of them, Devin and Morgan had gone with him in 2003. The three had gone every year since, and this year, John Casey had joined them.
“It’s for your own protection, Bartowski,” he had growled when Chuck had started whining about how Casey would be a killjoy.
The early parts of the first day of Comic-Con didn’t have that much going on, but Chuck had insisted on being there. “You never know who’ll show up,” he had said.
And it turned out his instincts were right on. They were walking through one of the exhibition halls when Morgan grabbed Chuck’s arm. “Hey!” he said. “Isn’t that Jewel Staite?”
Chuck froze. He turned to his right – and by God, it was Jewel Staite. Jennifer Keller on Stargate: Atlantis, but far more importantly to Chuck, Kaylee Frye on Firefly and in Serenity.
Chuck had had a MAJOR thing for Kaylee when he was in college. Firefly had aired during the first semester of that final, torturous year at Stanford. She was cute, she was funny, she was a total geek, and best of all, she seemed to really enjoy having sex. He knew she was a fictional character, but that didn’t really change anything.
Three years later, when Serenity had come out, Chuck had driven to Phoenix and slept overnight on a sidewalk outside a movie theatre to get a ticket to an advance screening. He got one of the last tickets, but he damn well thought it was worth it. His only quibble with the film was the fact that Kaylee had hooked up with Simon Tam at the end. He had stood up and loudly booed when that happened – and he was surprised to find that he was not the only one who did that!
And now, she was standing not thirty feet away from him. There was no huge crowd, no line of slobbering fans – just a few people, standing and having what appeared to be a fairly in-depth discussion with her, about who knew what.
“Dude!” Morgan said. “Are you gonna go talk to her?”
“In a minute,” Chuck replied. “I’ll wait till those people leave.”
A moment later, they did. Chuck, getting more nervous with every footstep, walked over to her.
“Hi!” she said brightly, smiling at him as he approached. “You appear to be a Browncoat, and if I’m not mistaken, you’re supposed to be Mal Reynolds!”
“Yeah, hi, my name’s Fan Bartowski, I’m a big Chu –“
He froze. Then he laughed and smacked himself in the forehead. “I’m an idiot,” he said.
“That’s okay,” she replied, laughing and holding out her hand. “Jewel Staite.”
“Chuck Bartowski,” he replied, taking her hand and shaking it. “Big fan, as I tried to say the first time around.”
Staite cocked her head to the side. “Chuck Bartowski,” she mused. “I know that name. Why do I know that name?”
Morgan had come up next to Chuck. “Why DO you know that name?” he asked, just as confused as Chuck.
Then her eyes widened. “Oh! You wrote that video game, Mindnode, the one Electronic Arts is making!”
Chuck’s jaw dropped. “How the hell…”
She smiled. “They actually contacted me about voicing one of the characters – the female spy. Apparently they think I look just like the way you designed her.”
She was right. It had caused a bit of consternation, too. When Chuck had shown Casey his graphic mockups of screenshots, Casey had studied them pretty closely. “Well,” he had said slowly, “the guy in the nerd outfit obviously bears a resemblance to you, and the spy in the black suit is obviously me… but the girl – red hair, green eyes? She looks nothing like Walker.”
Chuck had looked at Casey. “There’s a reason for that,” he said quietly. “I don’t want her to look like Sarah. First of all, it would’ve been too painful for me to design that, and secondly, call me a little selfish, but I want to keep the memory of Sarah as part of this to myself. I don’t want to share it in a video game, even if nobody knows who the characters really are based on.”
But no matter what Chuck’s reasons were for designing the character the way he had, it appeared that dumb luck had landed one of his all-time favorite actresses in his video game. HIS VIDEO GAME!
He managed to stay outwardly calm, while mentally doing jumping jacks and cartwheels. “Wow,” he said. “That’s fantastic!”
Her smile got a little bigger. “Well, glad to know you think so,” she said. Digging in her purse, she pulled out a card. “Here,” she said, handing it to him. “Give me a call some time – I want to get some ideas from you on what this character’s supposed to be like. I figure if I’m going to be voicing her, it couldn’t hurt to go to the source!”
The jumping jacks and cartwheels were replaced by back handsprings. “Absolutely,” Chuck replied, doing his best to hide his incredulity.
“It was nice to meet you, Chuck,” Jewel said, shaking his hand again. “I’ll see you later!”
“Later,” Chuck replied, as she walked away.
“Holy SHIT, dude!” Morgan breathed, once she was out of earshot. “You lucky bastard!”
“She’s married,” Chuck replied – and then he jumped and punched the air. “YES!”
Morgan laughed as Casey walked over shaking his head. “Seriously, fanboy, what was that all about?” the NSA agent asked.
“EA has asked her to voice the female character in Mindnode!” Chuck replied with a grin.
Casey shook his head. “You and that damn video game.”
Two hours later, they were walking through another part of the center, when Morgan spotted something very attractive. “Princess Leia at two o’clock!” he hissed to Chuck.
Chuck looked where Morgan had indicated. Yes, indeed, there was a petite and rather attractive blonde, wearing the Princess Leia slave bikini – and nothing else. She was clearly trying to ignore a rather large and menacing looking Latino man who was wearing a Punisher t-shirt.
“Come on, babe, you know that the Princess wants to take a ride on the Punisher’s hog!” he smarmed.
She looked at him with malice in her eyes. “I really hope that you’re talking about your motorcycle, otherwise you’re gonna get Maced.”
“Aw, now what kind of way is that to talk? Of course the Weevil’s talking about his motorcycle… for now!”
The blonde grew a look of disgust on her face, and then smacked the man with her purse. Instantly, a look of fury crossed his face, and he grabbed the woman by her upper arm.
“Okay, that’s it,” Chuck muttered, starting across the hall. Casey was right behind him, his hand instinctively going to the butt of his gun.
“Excuse me!” Chuck called as he approached. Both the man in the Punisher t-shirt and the woman in the Leia bikini looked at him. “I’m pretty sure she indicated that she wants you to leave her alone.”
The man snorted. “What are you gonna do about it, white boy?”
Chuck shrugged. “Me, probably not much. But my friend here is a third-degree black belt, and could probably wipe the floor with you.”
“Please, do something,” Casey growled. “I need the practice.”
The man stared back at him. Finally, he let go of the woman’s arm, and began to walk away. “Chinga tu madre, pinche cabron,” he tossed over his shoulder as he walked away.
“Straight back at you!” Casey called to his receding back.
“Glad to see the spirit of nerd camaraderie is alive and well at Comic-Con this year,” Chuck deadpanned to the woman in the Princess Leia bikini. He held out his hand. “I’m Chuck Bartowski, and normally I don’t do things like that. I don’t know what got into me.”
She smiled and took his hand. “Veronica Mars,” she replied. “And I appreciate the fact that you did something out of the ordinary. That guy’s been following me around all day.”
Devin and Morgan walked up, joining Chuck and Casey. “Wow,” Veronica said, looking around at them. “Mal Reynolds, Jack Harkness, Jim Gordon, and Clark Kent! Mind if I stick with you guys? I think I’d feel a lot safer.”
Morgan’s jaw was practically on the floor. “Now THAT is some serious nerd cred right there!”
He quickly composed himself. “Uh, Morgan Grimes.”
“John Casey.”
“Devin Woodcomb.”
“And absolutely you can hang out with us,” Chuck added. “We’d be happy to lend aid to the heir to the throne of Alderaan.”
“What’s left of it,” Veronica cracked.
“Indeed,” Chuck said, his face breaking into a rather large grin.
“If you’ll excuse me just a moment, I need to use the restroom,” she said. “I will be right back, I swear.”
Chuck continued to smile as he watched her walk off. “Wow,” Morgan said quietly. “I haven’t seen a smile on your face like that since… well…”
Chuck nodded. “I know.”
“She does look kind of like her, too,” Morgan observed.
“Yeah,” Chuck agreed, “sort of like the Mini-Me to her Doctor Evil.”
“Beckman, secure.”
“This is Mars, secure.”
“Report?”
“I’ve made contact. He’s with Major Casey, and two others – Grimes and Woodcomb. I’m going to wait till I can get a private moment with him to tell him who I really am.”
“Understood. Keep me updated.”
Veronica hung out with the four guys for the rest of the day. Interestingly enough, Chuck’s demeanor changed drastically over the course of the day. Before, he had been seemingly happy, but definitely still reserved. Now, it seemed that the combination of meeting Jewel Staite and finding out that she was going to be part of his video game, and then meeting this Veronica Mars – well, as far as Morgan could tell, Chuck was the happiest he’d been since January 29th.
Toward the end of the afternoon, Veronica asked Chuck if he’d like to go to dinner with her. “Absolutely!” Morgan interrupted, jumping in to the conversation. “We were all gonna go to Hooters – you’re welcome to come with us if you’d like.”
“Sorry, Morgan, I was thinking just me and Chuck,” Veronica replied with a slightly disbelieving smile. “But please, don’t let me stop the rest of you from going and getting your tits – uh, I mean hot wings.”
Morgan had tried to splutter a rebuttal to that remark, and both Casey and Devin had to turn away to keep from laughing at him. But sure enough, Veronica had dragged Chuck off, leaving the three others to go to Hooters without him.
Chuck and Veronica had both gone back to their hotel rooms, agreeing to meet down in the lobby at six o’clock. Chuck was still smiling when he reached his room to change.
As he was undressing, he realized that he still had Sarah’s picture in his breast pocket. He pulled it out and looked at her again. “I think you’d like her,” he said to the picture. “She looks a lot like you.”
He stood there for a moment, the smile fading from his face. He slowly set the picture down on the desk, and went back to changing.
Chuck had opened the door, and was just about to leave, when he stopped. He looked up at the ceiling, and then sighed. He turned around, walked rapidly back to the desk, and grabbed the picture. It went right back in his wallet – where it still belonged.
Veronica – who was apparently familiar with the San Diego area – had taken Chuck to a little place in Ocean Beach called, appropriately enough, the Ocean Beach Grille. It was pretty clear that it did a booming business on the weekends, but on a Thursday night, it was all but dead.
Chuck’s breath caught in his throat when he walked in and saw all the Patriots and Red Sox gear on the walls. If there was only one real thing he had known about Sarah, it was that she was a rabid fan of both of those two teams, but was fairly indifferent about the Celtics.
He sighed sadly. It would’ve been fun to needle her about the Patriots losing in the Superbowl.
Veronica looked at him in concern as they were seated. She could tell from his face that his demeanor had changed from that afternoon. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Chuck said quietly. “It’s just that my… um… ex-girlfriend was a big Patriots and Red Sox fan, and being here reminds me a lot of her.”
She cocked her head. “Was?”
Chuck nodded slowly. “She, uh, she… do you remember the woman who jumped off the Vincent Thomas Bridge back in January?”
Veronica’s eyes widened. “Yeah, what was her name? Sarah Walker… oh, no.”
Chuck nodded. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Chuck,” she said softly. “We can go if you want…”
“No, it’s okay,” Chuck replied. “I have to move past it at some point.”
She nodded – and then, pieces started falling into place, and her eyes narrowed. “Can you excuse me for just a second?” she asked.
“Sure,” Chuck said with a shrug.
Veronica walked outside the restaurant, pulled out her phone, and dialed.
“Beckman, secure.”
“Why the HELL didn’t you tell me that Chuck’s old handler was the woman who jumped off the Vincent Thomas Bridge?” Veronica demanded angrily. “And furthermore, why the HELL didn’t you tell me how he felt about her?”
There was silence for a moment, and then General Beckman spoke. “First of all, we didn’t think it was relevant for you to know about his previous handler.”
“Of COURSE it’s relevant!” Veronica exploded. “I need to know as MUCH AS POSSIBLE about this for me to properly work with him!”
Beckman sighed. “Fine. But what are you talking about how he felt about her?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No,” Beckman replied, a perplexed tone in her voice. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Veronica shook her head. “If you listen to him or look at his face when he’s talking about her, it’s pretty clear that he was in love with her.”
Beckman sighed. “Well, I can’t say that I’m surprised. Proceed with caution, Agent Mars. I don’t want the same thing to happen again.”
With a sigh of disgust, Veronica ended the call, and went back inside. No more beating around the bush.
“Chuck, can I ask you to do something?” she said as she sat down.
“Sure,” he replied, his brow furrowing.
“Trust me.”
He looked at her, confusion written on his face – and then, it dawned on him. “Oh for Christ’s sake,” he groaned. “Here we go again. What’s your real name?” he asked sarcastically. “Mary Mercury?”
She looked at him, hurt. “No, it’s Veronica Mars,” she replied quietly. “I’m not CIA. I’m FBI. And yeah, I’ve been assigned to be your handler.”
He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “I don’t NEED another handler,” he shot back. “Casey is MORE than enough, thank you.”
“Yes, but you’re moving,” Veronica said. “It would look suspicious and quite frankly, weird for Major Casey to follow you to your new apartment complex. He’ll still be one of your handlers, but the powers that be want somebody living near you to keep an eye on you.”
“Oh, joy!” Chuck snarked. “That’s what I need, another government baby sitter.”
He laughed bitterly and shook his head. “I can’t believe I thought you were some innocent girl in distress. That guy who was harassing you – he’s just another agent, isn’t he?”
“No,” Veronica said, her eyes downcast. Her voice had taken on a quiet and hurt tone. “He’s just a friend of mine who I had asked to do me a favor. And if you’re wondering, yes, I actually am kind of upset by what you’re saying. I told you, I’m FBI. I haven’t had the training a CIA agent would’ve had.”
Chuck was quiet for a moment. Finally, he sighed. “Alright,” he said. “I mean, I hope you’ll understand why I have trouble trusting you. It’s not you – it’s just everything I’ve been through in the last ten months.”
Veronica nodded. “I understand,” she replied. “Better than you know. I’ll tell you about it some time… but right now, I think we should just have dinner. How about you?”
A glimmer of a smile started to return to Chuck’s face. “Now why would somebody like you want to have dinner with somebody like me?”
A smile returned to her face as well. “Because you’re cute, and I’m single?”
Chuck laughed. “Okay, well, I guess that’ll do. For now.”
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