Author’s Note: the events of this chapter occur approximately two weeks after the main events of the story “The Star-Spangled Intersect”, and approximately four months before the “epilogue” portion of the story. I recommend reading that story before reading this chapter if you want to understand everything fully.
When Chuck returned to work on Wednesday, March 5th, Big Mike had wanted to know exactly where the hell Bartowski had been and what the hell he’d been doing with his time.
So Chuck told him the truth. He told him that he’d been abducted by the National Security Agency, stuck in a CIA facility in Moab, Utah, and been broken out by two spies who had been pretty badly beaten up in the process.
Big Mike had just stared at him for a moment. Then he started laughing.
“You know, Bartowski, that’s why you do so well. You can take the worst situation, spin some outrageous bullshit story to make people laugh and like you, and come out smelling like a rose.”
Then he stopped laughing and looked Bartowski in the eye. “You ever let it happen again, and I will put you on overnight stock duty for the rest of your LIFE.”
It was a little weird those two weeks for Chuck not to have to constantly check in with his minders. Casey was laid up in his apartment, recuperating his two broken legs, and Sarah was still in the hospital in Arizona. There was a team of Secret Service agents that followed Chuck pretty much everywhere he went, but they kept a rather low profile.
The powers that be had persuaded Sarah’s boss at the Wienerlicious that she’d been in a bad car accident, and had told Big Mike the same thing about Casey. That got them a couple weeks of leeway.
Ellie and Devin, of course, were now privy to the truth of the matter – had it not been for them, Sarah would probably be dead. However, Chuck had to spin the lie about Sarah and Casey to everybody else, including Morgan.
The charade-on-top-of-the-charade had gotten to be somewhat tiring for Chuck, and so he decided to take his mind off of it a bit. Today was St. Patrick’s Day, and he was going all out. He had gone to some bizarre little boutique in West Hollywood, and purchased a kelly green suit with gold trim. He’d managed to find green boots, and a green bowler hat.
“I’m gonna be the goddamn Lucky Charms leprechaun,” he muttered to himself as he got dressed.
And when he got out of the Herder at the plaza that morning, did he ever draw looks. People were rushing out of the stores to see him. The only person who didn’t have a surprised look on her face was Lou, who just smiled and shook her head before going back into the sandwich shop.
The best part about the outfit was that it was Buy More colors, so Big Mike couldn’t really yell at him for being out of uniform. In fact, Big Mike – who was wearing an oversized ballcap that said, “Kiss me, I’m Irish” – thought it was quite original, and wanted to know why more Buy More employees hadn’t gotten into the holiday spirit.
Chuck got a number of dirty looks for the next couple hours. However, those subsided as he used his (truly horrendous) imitation Irish accent to amuse customers and co-workers.
Around noon, he was standing inside the Nerd Herd desk, back to the door, doing his best to entertain the rest of the Herd (and Morgan).
“Aye, faith an’ begorrah!” Chuck brogued. “Th’ problem with livin’ in Los Angeles is that I don’ know how to keep th’ locals from tryin’ to take me lucky charms!”
“Boooo!” Morgan called.
“And then there be assholes such as the wee bearded one o’er there who thinks he be such a big, big man,” Chuck shot back.
“Aye, and dontcha think it’s bad luck to be callin’ yer best mate by such an insultin’ term?” came a female voice with a perfect Irish accent from behind him.
Irish accent or no, there was only one person who had that voice. Chuck’s eyes went wide, and he whirled around.
There she was. She looked exactly like she had the first time he’d ever seen her – she was even wearing reddish-tan leather jacket she’d been wearing that first day she’d walked in the Buy More – how is it that that was less than six months ago?! his subconscious screamed.
He couldn’t think of words to say. Even though it had only been thirteen days since he’d seen her last. Even though he’d spoken to her on the phone every night. Here she was, right in front of him.
“Hi,” she said softly.
The smile on his face spread almost wide enough to split his face in two. “Hi,” he said back.
And then, with no warning, he vaulted over the counter, drawing a “Whoa,” from Morgan. He landed right in front of Sarah.
Reaching out, he pulled her to him – gently, because he knew she was probably still fairly fragile from her gunshot wounds and subsequent surgery – embraced her, and kissed her, long and passionately, in front of the entire store. After what felt like ten minutes, she pulled the bowler hat off his head and tossed it up in the air, causing him to laugh and break the kiss.
As they broke away from each other, they became aware of a noise surrounding them –
Applause.
Everybody around them who could see them was applauding – employees, customers, Big Mike, Devin, Ellie, Casey in his wheelchair – exactly where did those three come from? Chuck asked himself.
“So,” he asked softly, putting his forehead against hers, “how would you like to go on an actual, real, honest-to-God, ‘we’re really a couple now’ date?”
“I think I would be a very big fan of that,” she whispered back.
“It’s funny,” Ellie said, “you guys really had me sold on actually being a couple when you were just acting, but now that I know the truth, and I compare that to what I saw on Tuesday – it’s like night and day.”
“Yeah, there’s something to be said for what being in love does for a couple,” Devin added. “Because, seriously, that kiss in the Buy More? Possibly one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.”
Chuck stopped brushing lint off his old sport coat for a moment. “Okay, Devin, seriously, I get where you’re going there, but it’s just making me a little uncomfortable,” he said, cocking his head to one side.
“Not a problem, Chuckster,” Devin replied. “Totally awesome.”
“So where are you two going, Chuck?” Ellie wanted to know.
“Gonna splurge just a little bit,” Chuck replied. “I’m taking her to dinner at Simon’s at the Sofitel –“
“Wow,” Devin interrupted. “That’s massively awesome.”
“- and then, we’re going to this club in West Hollywood. It’s called I Spy, and from what I’ve gathered, it’s a comedy and performance club frequented primarily by nerds.”
Ellie’s eyebrows went up. “Well, you two certainly are that,” she laughed.
“Yeah, and Friday nights are open mike night. I’M not going to do anything,” Chuck clarified, “but it’s bound to be fun to watch.”
“How are you gettin' there?” Devin asked.
“Herder, most likely.”
Devin stood up, shaking his head. “Can’t do it, Chuck, just can’t do it. This is your first real date with the girl.”
“So?”
Devin sighed. “Alright. How much time do you have till you need to pick her up?”
“I’ve got an hour, but not much more.”
“Let’s go for a little drive, Chuck.”
Thirty minutes later, Devin’s Escape pulled into a storage complex in Arcadia. “Tonight, Chuck, you truly become a man,” Devin murmured in an almost reverent voice as he rolled to a stop in front of a large unit.
Devin got out of the Ford, and Chuck followed suit. Crossing to the door of the unit, Devin input a ten digit-long code into a keypad by the door. When he finished, the pad beeped, and the door began to scroll upwards.
When it had opened halfway, bright lights came on inside the unit. Chuck still couldn’t tell what was inside, but when the door had opened fully…
“This is the Awesome Mobile,” Devin informed him. “Like the Batmobile, except Awesome.”
And that, it most certainly was. “My God,” Chuck breathed. “You have an honest-to-God Eleanor.”
“When I was in high school,” Devin explained, as Chuck admired the car, “I received a 1967 Ford Mustang fastback. It was kind of beat-up, but it was my car, and damn could she go fast. I held on to that thing, too, always promising myself I’d restore it one day.
“Gone in Sixty Seconds came out my senior year at UCLA. I got obsessed with the Shelby that Nicolas Cage drove, and I swore I was going to turn mine into one just like it.
“It took me almost three years of weekends and breaks from med school, but soon enough, I had my very own pseudo Shelby Mustang GT 500. And tonight, you’re gonna take Sarah out in it.”
Devin withdrew his right hand from his pocket, and tossed a set of keys to Chuck. Chuck caught the keys, still not believing this was real. “What if… what if I scratch it, or something?” Chuck asked incredulously.
“I’ll bill the CIA,” Devin replied jokingly. Then he got serious. “But seriously, dude, don’t. If they tell you to go on some sort of mission tonight, tell them you’re driving a 1967 Shelby GT 500. Tell Director Graham. He seems like the kind of guy who understands the bond between a man and his car.”
Still in disbelief, Chuck opened the driver’s door of the car and slid behind the wheel. He slipped the key into the ignition and turned. It took a few cranks, but quickly enough, the engine roared to life.
“Three hundred and fifty-one cubic inches of Ford Windsor engine,” Devin shouted over the noise of the car.
Chuck felt like he had his hands on the leash of a wild horse that was about to be let loose. “Take it easy exiting the facility,” Devin yelled. “And then, let her rip.”
Chuck put the Awesome Mobile into first, then slowly let his foot of the clutch as he gave it just the tiniest amount of gas. The 351 Windsor engine throbbed as the Mustang slowly rolled out of the storage unit into the driveway.
Chuck kept his speed low until he was out onto Huntington Drive. He brought it up a little as he took a left onto Santa Anita Avenue – and then, he let her rip.
Devin, following in his Escape, was absolutely amazed at the speed with which the Mustang pulled away from him. “Weird watching it from this angle,” he mused.
Chuck practically flew onto the Foothill Freeway headed west. He drove with reckless disregard for the speed limit, transitioning onto the Ventura Freeway and the Glendale Freeway with little change in speed.
The Glendale Freeway turned into Glendale Boulevard, which became Lucas Avenue, and then Chuck took a hard left onto Wilshire, headed into downtown. When he reached Figueroa, he called Sarah.
“You’re early,” she said, a mock-accusatory tone in her voice.
“Come downstairs,” Chuck replied.
“Why?”
“Just… you’ll want to be downstairs in about sixty seconds,” Chuck assured her.
A hard right onto Flower, and he was headed straight for Sarah’s building. He could see her standing out front as he crossed over 7th Street, nearly a block and a half away. It was pretty evident that she heard the noise of the big Ford engine, because she turned her head to stare at the Mustang.
When Chuck was about one hundred feet away from her, he stood on the brake and the clutch, popping the transmission into neutral and holding tight to the wheel. He slid to a stop right in front of her, and rolled down his window.
Her eyes were wide, but there was a look of clear excitement and anticipation on her face. “Need a lift?”
Chuck had made the drive to the Sofitel seem like a thrill ride, and Sarah loved every second of it. Dinner had been fantastic, the valet had complimented Chuck on the ensemble of car and girl, and it had been a thoroughly enjoyable night all around.
Now Chuck and Sarah were at I Spy, and it had actually been pretty good so far. It was amazing how musically and comedically talented some of these nerds were, and Sarah was having quite enough to drink to make sure that even those who weren’t funny seemed it.
Then, a guy in a wheelchair with a guitar rolled up on stage. He was wearing a t-shirt that had but one word: “Browncoat.” His ballcap had a big number “2” on it, crossed by a rifle. He had a pretty thick goatee and mustache. Chuck didn’t recognize him, but there was something very familiar about him.
“Do you recognize the guy on stage?” he asked Sarah.
She peered at him for a moment. “I… do not,” she replied deliberately. “Although something does seem familiar about him.”
“Evenin’, folks,” he said in a Texas-accented gravelly voice that also held a distinct tone of familiarity for Chuck. “I’m here to sing for you a song from one of my favorite TV shows. You see, I’ve got some friends who reckon I look a little bit like Adam Baldwin –“
Chuck’s eyes went wide. “NO WAY.”
Sarah just looked at him. “What?”
“- and so I’m gonna sing you my own personal arrangement of the Ballad of Jayne – Hero of Canton!”
There was a huge round of applause for that. Sarah looked across at Chuck. “I don’t get it.”
Chuck forgot for a moment about his theory on the identity of the man on stage. “Wait, you’ve never seen any episodes of Firefly, have you?”
Sarah shook here head.
Chuck pounded his fist on the table. “We will have to correct that at some point.”
And then, the man on stage started singing.
“Oh, he robbed from the rich… and he gave to the poor! Stood up to the man, and gave him what for!”
Sarah looked at Chuck. “I know that voice. I really do. I just don’t know where from.”
“I know,” Chuck replied, “and I thought it was somebody, but I’m not sure. I’m not flashing on anything, either.”
“And he saw the Magistrate takin’ every dollar and leavin’ five cents!”
Chuck stopped thinking about it and just enjoyed the song, clapping along and joining in on the chorus.
“Oh, he robbed from the rich, and he gave to the poor, stood up to the man and gave him what for! Our love for him now ain’t hard to explain, the hero of Canton, the man they call… Jayne!”
As he sat back down at the end of the chorus, Sarah gave him a look that was full of nothing but amusement. While the man on stage sang about how Jayne Cobb had dropped a plane full of money on the people of Higgins’ Moon, Chuck leaned across the table.
“Thanks for putting up with my nerdness,” he said to Sarah.
She grabbed his hands and leaned toward him. “The only reason I put up with this is because I have, for reasons passing understanding, fallen madly in love with you.”
Chuck’s smile could’ve lit up the room. He leaned over a little farther and kissed Sarah, pulling back just in time for the last chorus.
“…the hero of Canton... the man they call JAYNE!” Chuck shouted it out, feeling an odd kinship with his fellow nerds for just that one moment.
“Thank you folks,” the man on stage said into the microphone. “That was fun. My name’s Ron Macy!”
Chuck and Sarah’s eyes both went wide. He looked over at her.
“No way.”
“Can’t be!”
The next day was Casey’s first day back at the Buy More. He was still in his wheelchair, but had deemed himself more than able to sell. “Maybe he can help that angry little dwarf the next time he comes in here,” Morgan grumbled as Casey rolled toward him and Chuck.
Chuck rolled his eyes, and then grinned. As Casey got just within earshot, he said, “Well, Morgan, he robbed from the rich, and he gave to the poor.”
Morgan looked at him. “Excuse me?”
But the bigger effect was on John Casey. His head snapped around to the left, his eyes wide, and he stared at Chuck. “WHAT?!”
Chuck’s face was the picture of innocence as he looked back at Casey. “Robin Hood, dude, what did you think I was talking about?”
Then, as soon as Casey rolled away, Chuck made a beeline for the DVD section. Grabbing a copy of the Firefly discs, he opened it and pulled out the disc with “Jaynestown” on it.
He ran over to the TV wall and interrupted Jeff and Lester doing… whatever they were doing. He wasn’t sure. “Need the wall, guys,” he said breathlessly, using Harry Tang’s old universal remote to change everything to the Blu-Ray player they were hooked up to.
Chuck popped the disc into the player, then cued up the “Hero of Canton” scene in “Jaynestown.” Turning the volume up quite loud, he hit play.
“OH, HE ROBBED FROM THE RICH, AND HE GAVE TO THE POOR… STOOD UP TO THE MAN, AND GAVE HIM WHAT FOR!”
Chuck had never seen an unpowered wheelchair move quite so quickly as John Casey’s. He skidded to a stop next to Chuck, looking up at him with unmitigated hatred.
“You are a DEAD MAN, Bartowski.”
