Author’s Note: Before I begin, I’d like to thank an individual known to me only as SharpAsAMarble for making me laugh so hard that I had a coughing fit which almost made me fall out of my chair.
As far as the story itself goes, you might want to re-read Chapter 3 to refresh yourself on a dream that Sarah had at the beginning of that chapter before reading this chapter.
In addition, for those of you who are unaware, I am sometimes also considered a Terrifying Monkey (hint, hint).
The following excerpt comes from the end of “The Star-Spangled Intersect”.
Chuck awoke slowly, the shaft of light playing across his face. He tried to burrow under the covers to block out the offending sunlight, but to no avail, as an agent of true evil pulled the comforter off of his head.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Sarah said with a laugh. “Happy fourth of July, oh America’s greatest intelligence asset.”
“America’s greatest intelligence asset wants to SLEEP,” he grumbled.
“Not a chance!” she replied with a giggle, starting to tickle him.
“GAH!” he shouted, trying to roll away, and succeeding merely in rolling directly off the side of the bed, tangled in the duvet.
His only consolation was that Sarah was so entangled in the duvet that she came rolling off the bed with him, landing fairly softly on top of him. He had no complaints about that. He had come to live for her touch, the soft feel of her skin against his, the unevenness of the fading scars on her shoulder and abdomen.
He loved the scent of her hair, the taste of her lips against his, the way she looked into his eyes. He especially loved it when she teased him, like she was doing right now.
“Well, I think that since you’re such a national treasure, and I’m a national intelligence officer, we really should celebrate our country’s freedom in an… EXPLOSIVE fashion,” she said, a naughty undertone to her voice, as she shifted her weight further down his body.
“I fully agree,” Chuck replied, a gasp slipping out at the end of his sentence.
Not too long after that – Chuck was, after all, a man, and not a machine – Sarah was in the shower, and Chuck was on the balcony of their hotel room. He had no idea how she’d gotten the CIA to splurge for an ocean view hotel room in San Diego for the Fourth of July, but he wasn’t complaining. He enjoyed watching the ships come in to the bay… although, that one…
A blur of images flew by in his mind – a case of Stinger missiles, a briefcase full of cash, blueprints of the MV Pacific Voyager, a mugshot of a rather unhappy looking Argentinean, and… a piece of carrot cake.
His eyes went wide, and he shook his head. “Good Lord!” he gasped. “They’re going to try to get those missiles to a sleeper cell in San Diego and shoot down aircraft at MCAS Miramar!”
Chuck ran back into the hotel room and walked into the bathroom without knocking.
“Sarah!” he said, as he entered.
She stuck her head out of the shower, a playful grin on her face. “Are you ready for round two – Chuck? What is it?”
“I just flashed on a ship in the harbor,” he replied. “Stinger missiles on board, headed for a sleeper cell here in the city.”
Sarah’s eyes went wide. She shut off the shower, reached out, and grabbed a towel. She wrapped it around herself and stepped out of the shower.
“Alright, give Casey a call. I’ll get ready as quick as I can. We’re going to probably need to head down and intercept the shipment.”
She turned and looked at him. “And Chuck, please. I don’t want you to get hurt. Would you please, just this once…”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll stay in the car.”
And now, the conclusion.
Two days earlier
“So, Comic-Con this year, Chuck?”
“Oh, without a doubt. We’ve got to go. I know I’ve got Devin talked into doing it, I think I’ve got Ellie talked into it, and I just need to work on Sarah a little bit.”
“Chuck, she’s pretty formidable.”
“Oh, I have my ways, Morgan.”
“Dude… way too much information. Seriously.”
“Oh, which is why you were outside my door trying to listen on her birthday. You, and Anna, and Casey of all people.”
Morgan waved his hands in front of him. “Uh-uh, we aren’t talking about that. So, you and Sarah gonna go as Han Solo and Princess Leia, like that convention in Redondo Beach?”
Chuck shook his head. “I don’t think so. I don’t know know who Sarah’s gonna go as, but I’m not going as Han Solo. There’ll be a thousand Han Solos there, and I want to stand out a bit. I figure I’ve got three weeks to decide.”
“Don’t procrastinate, Chuck. You know what they say. Procrastination is like masturbation – it’s all fun and games, but in the end, you’re just screwing yourself.”
Chuck rolled his eyes. “Thank you, O Wise One.”
“At your service,” Morgan replied, bowing deeply.
“GRIMES!”
“Shit.”
Morgan ran as Big Mike came barreling up to the Nerd Herd desk. “For God’s sake, Bartowski, would you stop encouraging his delinquency? He needs to be selling very expensive pieces of electronic crap, not shooting the breeze with you!”
“Sorry, Big Mike.”
“Don’t be sorry, Bartowski, do something about it! You know very well that I want to recommend you for the assistant manager position, but if this keeps up, I’m gonna recommend John Casey.”
The blood drained from Chuck’s face. “Oh God.”
“Yeah, oh God. He’ll run this place like a military organization. You thought Harry Tang was bad? Just wait until John Casey is your supervisor.”
Chuck’s head swiveled slowly to the right. He could see Casey standing about thirty feet away, arms crossed over his chest, a smug smile on his face.
“Chuck!”
He heard his name called from a little distance. Turning, he could see Sarah, outfitted for work, bouncing toward him, like she always did when she wore the skirt and the lederhosen. He had asked her more than once not to do that to him when he was at work, and her response had been to do it even more flagrantly.
“Hey, Sar-“
“BARTOWSKI!”
Chuck’s head whipped back around to Big Mike. “I am talking to you!”
Big Mike focused his attention on Sarah. “And as for you, Wiener Girl, you spend so much of your damn time in this store distracting my employees, and you never buy a damn thing. So the least you can do is keep your mouth shut long enough for me to finish reaming your little boy toy. Capisce?”
It was clear that Sarah had not been spoken to in a manner like that in a very long time, even by the powers that be at the CIA. Her eyebrows went up, her fists started to clench, and she went from a casual stance to almost a combat stance before a sharp whistle distracted her.
Her head snapped to the right, where she saw Casey glaring daggers at her. He shook his head once.
Sarah gritted her teeth, narrowed her eyes, and stood down. Meanwhile, Big Mike turned his attention back to Chuck.
“So, Bartowski… um… that’s all! Get Grimes to shape up, or Casey’s gonna be your boss!”
He was about to walk away when he turned back to Chuck. “And if your girlfriend ever, EVER interrupts me chewing you out again, I’ll smack you over the head with my marlin two or three times!”
Chuck’s jaw dropped in disbelief. He turned toward Sarah. Waiting until Big Mike was out of earshot, he hissed, “The whole damn world’s against me!”
Sarah smiled. “Not the whole world.”
“Really,” Chuck replied. “And what part of the world ISN’T against me? Big Mike’s reaming me, Casey might become my boss… that sounds pretty bad!”
“The part that isn’t against you is the part that will be calling Big Mike in about fifteen minutes, telling him that you’re needed at a Buy More in San Diego for the next five days.”
Chuck looked almost sideways at Sarah. “A Buy More in San Diego? Do we have some mission down there?”
“Nooo…” Sarah drew out slowly. “You’re taking a vacation, Chuck. A stressed-out, burnt-out Intersect is almost as useless to the Company as no Intersect at all.
“That,” she said, “and I guess the CIA feels like it owes you after your intelligence managed to prevent Senator McCain’s bus from being hit by those extremists.”
“So, I’m going on vacation?”
Sarah nodded and smiled again. “Yes, you are. After Big Mike sends you home, go home, pack, and I’ll meet you there around two.”
Chuck smiled back. “That sounds most excellent, Ms. Walker.”
“I’ll see you then, Mr. Bartowski.”
And sure enough, about fifteen minutes later, Big Mike emerged from his office, a perplexed look on his face. “Bartowski!” he called.
Chuck walked over to him. “Yes, Big Mike?”
“Buy More down at Mission Plaza in San Diego called up here… they need a Nerd Herd type down there, this afternoon, and they specifically asked for you.”
Chuck was quite pleased.
The two days they had been down here so far had been quite pleasant. It was a beautiful time of year to be in San Diego, the beaches were absolutely fantastic, and though Chuck would say that the highlight of the vacation had been all the time he’d gotten to spend with Sarah, he had to admit that the sex had been pretty mind-blowing as well.
Especially early last night down at Black’s Beach.
Chuck smiled and tried to push the thought from his head as Sarah’s Porsche headed south from La Jolla. They had terrorists to intercept, and he needed to be on top of his game. He knew this because there was far more armament on Sarah’s belt than usual – extra clips, an extra gun, even grenades.
They were headed down to the harbor, set to intercept MV Pacific Voyager, grab its illicit cargo of Stinger missiles, and arrest some terrorists. Simple in theory, practically impossible to ever pull off without a hitch in reality.
And hitch number one was about to happen.
Sarah’s phone rang. “Walker, secure,” she said a moment after answering it.
She listened to whoever was on the other end, nodded, and then hung up. Without a word, she pressed the accelerator to the floor, making the Porsche fly down Interstate 5 at nearly double the legal limit.
“Pacific Voyager has turned east,” she explained to Chuck. “They think they’re going to try to drop the cargo just off Pacific Beach, and have somebody bring it ashore there.”
“Lovely,” Chuck muttered as the Porsche flew off the freeway at Garnet Avenue.
Sarah activated a feature of her Porsche that Chuck had never known existed before – the police lights and siren built into the grille. With lights flashing and siren wailing, she practically flew the block down Mission Bay Drive to Garnet, powerslid at a ninety degree angle to the road, and headed down Garnet, hardly missing a beat.
Chuck could see helicopters out over the water at the end of Garnet. One seemed to be buzzing something at low altitude. Sarah’s phone rang again.
“Walker, secure.” This call was brief. She hung up. “Shit.”
“Now what?”
“Pacific Voyager has increased speed,” she replied. “They think the crew is going to try to beach her on Pacific Beach. This could get really ugly, really quick.”
Sure enough, the helicopters changed course, heading over the Pacific Beach neighborhood. Even from several blocks away, Chuck could hear the announcement coming over their loudspeakers.
“This is the Department of Homeland Security. Please stay inside your homes or places of business. Please stay off the streets and do not exit the building you are in until you receive an all-clear from the San Diego Police Department.”
“Well, if that wasn’t a recipe for chaos, I don’t know what is,” Chuck muttered.
And indeed, the closer they got, the more chaotic things got. People were running screaming down the street, trying to get into locked buildings. Abandoned cars littered Garnet. Sarah had to carefully pick her way between them, till finally she came to what essentially amounted to a roadblock just west of Mission Boulevard.
Sarah pulled the car over to the side of the street. “Chuck… please,” was all she said.
He nodded as she got out of the car.
Nothing happened for a moment – and then, a group of eight men ran up from the beach, weapons in hand, two of them toting a crate between them. Sarah crouched down behind the cars blocking the road, sighted on one of the men, and fired.
He dropped like a sack of the potatoes. The other men stopped, and immediately began firing.
Sarah threw herself flat on the ground, but tripped as she did so. From Chuck’s point of view, it looked like she had been hit.
His eyes went wide as saucers, and his heart stood still. “Sarah?” he whispered.
Time seemed to come to a stop. To hell with the rules, he thought. Flinging the car door open, he grabbed the spare gun out of Sarah’s glove box, and got out of the car.
As he did so, he could see Sarah starting to get up. “Sarah!” he shouted.
She turned and saw him. As she did, time seemed to stand still for her as well.
It was the dream she had had four and a half months ago, come to life.
Chuck was out of the car. This was a bad thing. There were men with large guns, firing them in their general direction.
“CHUCK!” she screamed, desperate to be heard over the gunfire. “I’m going to distract them! As soon as I take their attention off you, I want you to run!”
“No way, Sarah, I’m not leaving you alone!”
“CHUCK! I can handle this!”
She reached down to her belt, and grabbed a flash-bang grenade – and just held it for a moment. This was playing out exactly like the dream.
She pulled the pin, and said a small prayer to a God she hadn’t believed in for years. “Please, God, please, let him run the other direction.”
Sarah heaved the grenade toward the bad guys. “GO, CHUCK, GO!” she screamed.
Chuck turned tail and ran out of the street, diving through the open door of a coffee shop as the grenade went off. She breathed a huge sigh of relief.
And then, the van pulled up behind her. “DEPARTMENT OF HOMELAND SECURITY!” somebody shouted. Sarah decided it was time for her to vacate the scene.
She dived through the door of the same coffee shop that Chuck had gone into – The Pacific Bean, the door said. Finding him behind the counter, she crouched down next to him.
“Why the hell did you get out of the car?” she demanded as the terrorists completely lost their nerve and surrendered to Homeland Security outside.
“I-I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I thought I saw you get hit, and I –“
He didn’t say any more. He just grabbed her and hugged her tightly, like he was never going to let go.
She knew she should be angry. But she couldn’t be. She felt the anger melt out of her as he held her, and she wrapped her arms around him.
They stayed behind the counter for about twenty minutes before Homeland Security called an “All clear!”
With a mutual sigh of relief, they both got up from behind the counter and stood in the store. “Hey,” Chuck said, noticing something totally tangential to the situation. “They only serve fairly traded coffee here!”
As Sarah looked at him like he’d lost his mind, an employee came out from a back room to stand behind the counter. “Uh, excuse me, folks?”
Neither Sarah nor Chuck had heard him approach, and they both whirled toward him, guns coming up in both their hands – Good reflexes, Chuck, Sarah thought, realizing he had the gun from her glove box.
The employee’s eyes went wide. Chuck and Sarah both realized that he wasn’t a threat, and their guns dropped. “C-can I g-get you s-something?” the employee stuttered through teeth chattering in fear.
“Actually, yeah,” Chuck replied, handing his gun to Sarah. “I’d like to get a large Black Forest ice blended mocha.”
“Chuck!”
“Oh, come on, Sarah,” Chuck said, turning his gaze on her and setting the puppy dog eyes to full stun.
She sighed. “Oh, alright.”
