Chuck In a Moment, Chapter 10: "Desire"

8:00 P.M., Central Standard Time
Sunday, July 12th, 2009
Lac la Plonge Auxiliary Air Field, Saskatchewan, Canada

Chuck and Veronica sat in the living room, as far away from each other as they could be and still sit on furniture. Season 2 of Battlestar Galactica was in the DVD player, but neither of them was really paying much attention.

They were both still fairly shell shocked from their encounter with Dr. Ducard that afternoon. Chuck couldn’t believe that any human being could be so horrible as he was. Veronica was just trying to wish it all away.

The semi-quiet of the room was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Chuck frowned, paused the DVD, and went to the door. He opened it, and Airman Reynard stood there, an apologetic look on his face.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you,” he said. “Doctor Ducard asked me to come by, and remind you that you have a job to do. He also asked me to remind you that there would be consequences if you didn’t follow through on the job.”

Chuck looked at the young man for a moment. He couldn’t have been any more than eighteen or nineteen. “Airman Reynard,” he said, “why are you here?”

Reynard looked confused. “This is where the Air Force sent me, sir.”

“But, I mean, why do you stay here, given what goes on?”

Reynard shook his head. “I don’t know what goes on here, sir. I don’t ask, they don’t tell.”

“I see,” Chuck mused. “In that case, do me a favor, go back to Doctor Ducard, and tell him the job’s already been taken care of.”

Reynard pursed his lips and shook his head again. “Sorry, sir, he told me to expect you to say that, and if you did say that, I was to tell you that he can tell whether or not it’s been done.”

Chuck sighed. “Of course the house is wired,” he whispered. He turned around and faced the living room. “You’re a real douchebag, Ducard!” he shouted, startling Veronica.

He turned back to Reynard. “Is there anything else, Airman?”

“Yes, sir,” Reynard said softly. “He asked me to remind you that the task needs to be accomplished at least once a day.”

“Once a – Jesus!” Chuck exclaimed. “Reynard, do you have any idea what it is that Ducard wants us to do?”

“No, sir,” Reynard replied. “I don’t want to know.”

Chuck nodded. “That’s probably for the best. Alright, you can go back to Doctor Douchebag, and tell him that it’ll be done before the night is out.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Chuck slowly swung the door shut, then turned back toward the room. He looked like a defeated man, his head hanging, his shoulders slumped.

He didn’t even look at Veronica, but rather just turned and headed into the bedroom. When Veronica followed him in there five minutes later, she found him laying face down on the bed, a pillow over his head.

“Chuck,” she said softly, sitting down on the bed next to him.

There was a muffled explosion from beneath the pillow. “This is SHIT!” Veronica heard.

She gently placed her hand on his shoulder. “Chuck, you have a choice here.”

He sat up, the pillow flying off his head. Chuck looked at Veronica incredulously and shook his head. “I don’t have a CHOICE,” he replied.

“Doctor Ducard gave you two options,” Veronica said. “Two options means you have a choice.”

Chuck put a hand to his forehead. “Okay, let’s examine those options for a moment. Behind door number one – I can do something that I know will hurt my fiancée terribly, but which I know that she, more than anybody else I have ever known, will understand.”

“Why are you so sure Sarah will understand?” Veronica asked quietly.

Chuck sighed. “She was an intelligence operative for years,” he said. “She understands that sometimes… um… you use it as a tool. That it’s necessary.”

He shrugged. “I know she’ll understand. I know she’ll be hurt, but since door number two is doing nothing and allowing you, one of the people I care about most in this world, to die horrifically…”

Chuck looked up and looked Veronica in the eyes. “I don’t have a choice.”

Her eyes teared up, but she smiled at him. “Thank you.”

Chuck smiled too, a small smile, but still a smile that in and of itself told Veronica how much he cared about her. “Come here,” he said softly, reaching out an arm.

Veronica shifted over, allowing him to draw her to him and wrap her in a hug. She hugged him back, and then, after a moment, lifted her head. She gently kissed him on the cheek, then on the neck.

Chuck stiffened. “What are you doing?” he asked quietly.

“We have to do this, Chuck,” she replied, just as quietly. “But here’s the thing. If we’re going to, we should at least not make ourselves hate it, don’t you think?”

She felt Chuck sigh. He said nothing, did nothing, for at least a minute, and finally whispered, “Okay.”

He tilted his face down toward hers. Veronica closed her eyes as she felt Chuck’s lips gently meet her own.

---

7:10 P.M., Pacific Daylight Time
The home of Logan Echolls
Neptune, California

Sarah sat on a couch, trying not to think too much. Keith Mars and John Casey were hunched over a table, looking over the Balboa County Sheriff’s Department force structure, and trying to figure out what other agencies they could draw manpower from.

She knew that she should really be participating in the strategy session, but she felt sick. It wasn’t a nauseous type of sickness, either. It was the type of sickness you feel when you think that the person you love is cheating on you.

Sarah had no idea why she felt that way. Chuck was trapped on a remote air base in Saskatchewan. Who could he possibly be cheating on her with there?

Veronica Mars, her brain said accusingly.

Sarah shook her head to try to banish the thought from her mind, but it wouldn’t go away. Sighing, she leaned forward, resting her head in her hands.

“Hey,” she heard.

She looked up, and saw Logan Echolls standing there, a concerned look on his face. “Listen, I’m sure it’s not any of my business, but are you doing okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Sarah sighed. “I’m just… I’m really worried about Chuck.”

“And I am really worried about Veronica,” Logan replied, “but that’s not just a look of concern that’s written all over your face. It’s also got a trace of jealousy, if I remember correctly from my ‘Guide to the Faces of Angry Women’.”

Sarah smiled briefly. “Yeah,” she said. “I just, I can’t help but wonder what he’s doing up there with her.”

Logan shook his head and sat down on the couch next to her. “What do you think he’s doing up there with her?”

“I don’t know,” Sarah admitted. “I just have a bad feeling about it.”

“Are you afraid he’s gonna cheat on you with her?” Logan asked Sarah. “Because, you know, I got to know Chuck pretty well in the months before you returned from the grave, and I don’t see him as doing that type of thing, like, ever.”

He stopped and sighed. “I can’t see Veronica doing something like that, either. The only way she would ever, EVER do that is if his life depended on it. And that seems like a fairly unrealistic scenario, don’t you think?”

Sarah nodded. “Yeah,” she replied. “That’s about the only circumstances I can see Chuck doing that under, too. I mean, if her life depended on it, I’m sure he would. I’d understand. I’d expect him to.”

Logan smiled. “Now, see, where were all the girls like you when I was in high school?”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “In the Drug Enforcement Administration. I’m not saying that’s an invitation for him to go screw around with Veronica, I’m just saying that if her life somehow depended on it, I’d expect him to do the right thing.”

Logan gave her a curious look. “Those girls are in the DEA? What’s that supposed to mean?”

---

8:30 P.M., CST
Lac la Plonge

Chuck lay on his back, staring at the ceiling – just as he had been for the last five minutes.

The room was dark, and he couldn’t see anything. There was a reason for that. He had intentionally turned the lights off so that he wouldn’t see Veronica, couldn’t accidentally see himself in a mirror – because he didn’t think he could face her or himself right at the moment.

But she was still there next to him. Her head rested on his shoulder, and he could feel her breathing. He started unconsciously tracing circles on her bare back with his finger.

“I’m sorry,” Veronica whispered.

“Sorry for what?” he asked.

“For making you do this,” she replied, and he could hear that her voice was about to break. “For making you be unfaithful to Sarah.”

“Don’t,” Chuck whispered. “You will never have to apologize for making me do something that saves your life. Not now, not ever.”

He was quiet for a moment, and then said, “I’m sorry, though.”

“For what?” Veronica asked, lifting her head a little.

“For being so hesitant to do the right thing,” Chuck answered.

“No, no,” Veronica replied. “I don’t want you to ever apologize for being such a good person. Okay?”

“Okay.”

---

Martin Ducard leaned back in his office chair and rolled his eyes.

“God, what a couple of whiners,” he remarked. “Never in my life have I heard two people complain so much about sex.”

“That’s what happens when you put good people in a bad situation,” a voice said from the speakerphone.

“Sir, there’s no such thing as a good person or a bad person,” Ducard replied. “They’re just people.”

“You may have been at that place too long, Ducard. Anyway, I received the protest from the President.”

“And?”

“And I’m going to tell him to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine, along with a strongly worded statement about how dare he send four intelligence agents into my country.”

“Very good, Mr. Prime Minister.”

---

8:00 P.M., PDT
Neptune, California

Sarah’s phone began ringing. She removed it from her purse, and saw the CIA logo pop up on the screen. That meant it was Director Graham’s direct line.

She stepped outside the house, and hit a series of buttons. A moment later, the call connected.

“Walker, secure,” she said.

“This is Graham, secure,” he replied. “I see you’re in Neptune, Agent Walker. You’re not planning anarchy and mayhem, are you?”

“No, sir,” she replied. “Just informing Sheriff Mars of his daughter’s disappearance.”

Graham was quiet for a moment. “I really wish you hadn’t done that, Agent Walker.”

Sarah shook her head and rolled her eyes. “So I’m supposed to let the man believe that his daughter fell off the face of the planet?”

“Walker, I wish you hadn’t done that because Keith Mars has been known to create anarchy and mayhem when it suits his purposes.”

“Well, sir, maybe if we weren’t being a bunch of diplomatic candy-asses and actually doing something about the situation, he wouldn’t have to.”

Graham said nothing for so long that Sarah thought she’d lost him. Finally, though, he spoke again. “I know it’s difficult for you, with Bartowski being up there, but you have to be objective about this.”

“I CAN’T be objective about this, sir!” Sarah exploded. “This is not a mission. This is not Bryce Larkin with a Venezuelan agent in Cabo San Lucas. This is Chuck Bartowski, my Chuck, my fiancé, stuck in the goddamn middle of nowhere under the thumb of Fulcrum, who plans to do God-knows-what to him!”

Graham sighed. “I can recall you if need be, Agent Walker.”

“Then you will have my resignation, sir, and it will be PERMANENT this time.”

“Well, I don’t want that,” Graham replied. “Alright. Fine, you don’t have to be objective about it. I can understand your reasons why, even if I don’t agree with them. But you need to know that the Prime Minister of Canada basically told the President that he could take his diplomatic protest and shove it. He also had some things to say about four intelligence agents being in his country, even though the President tried to explain that it was really an analyst, a federal cop, and two agents – and that you were all on vacation.”

“Asshole,” Sarah muttered. “So what next?”

“Well, ordinarily, we’d recall our embassy staff, but that’s generally a prelude to war, and we are not going to war with Canada over a computer nerd with a super-brain and an FBI agent.”

Sarah sighed. “I understand, sir.”

“Good,” Graham said. “We’ll do everything we can, Walker, but please – behave yourself?”

“Of course, sir,” Sarah replied. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Chuck In a Moment, Chapter 9: "One"

1:10 P.M., Central Standard Time
Sunday, July 12th, 2009
near Beauval, Saskatchewan, Canada

As the Jeep Cherokee bumped along the dirt path, nobody spoke for the first couple minutes. But before they reached the end of the grid of cabins, Chuck’s curiosity got the best of him.

“Uh, if you’re allowed to tell me, where are we at?”

The two Canadian airmen looked at each other. Then, the one riding shotgun turned to Chuck. “Well, you’re not going to escape, and you have no way of communicating with the outside world, so there’s no harm in it, I suppose. You’re at Lac la Plonge Auxiliary Air Field. We’re an adjunct to Fifteen Wing at Canadian Forces Base Moose Jaw.”

The words Moose Jaw triggered a brief flash from the Intersect, but it was quick enough that Chuck’s momentary silence escaped notice. “So we’re up toward northern Saskatchewan, then,” he said.

The airman nodded. “Yeah, we’re right on the edge of the Canadian Shield,” he replied.

Chuck shook his head wryly. “I have no idea what that is, Airman…”

“Hernandez,” the airman replied. “And it’s actually Corporal.”

“Sorry about that,” Chuck replied. “I’m not familiar with US military insignia, let alone Canadian ones. Now, do you have any idea why we’ve been kidnapped by the Canadian Air Force?”

Corporal Hernandez looked uneasy. “Um… I’m afraid we can’t discuss that with you, sir. But, you should know, you’re our guest here. We’ll do everything we possibly can to make you comfortable.”

“Would that happen to include a cell phone and a computer with Internet access?”

Hernandez shook his head, a small smile on his face. “Sorry, sir, you should already know that that’s not possible. However, if you’re curious, your laptops are both in the cabin. They’re in the drawer of the coffee table in the living room. They have, of course, both had their wireless Internet cards removed, in addition to any other devices that could possibly be used for communication.”

Chuck sighed. “And thank you for voiding the warranty on my computer.”

Hernandez looked like he was going to say something more, but at that moment, the Jeep pulled up in front of one of the buildings in the complex. “We’re here.”

He and the other airman jumped out and opened the back doors. Chuck and Veronica both disembarked from the Jeep, and followed Hernandez into the building.

They were led down a hallway that smelled distinctly like a medical clinic. “Are we in the base hospital?” Chuck asked.

Hernandez laughed. “Hardly a hospital,” he replied. “There’s only ninety-five people total on the base, including both civilians and military personnel. It’s really closer to being an urgent care clinic than anything else. Real medical problems we take down to Moose Jaw.”

Ninety-five people, Chuck thought, filing the information away.

Hernandez opened a door, admitting Chuck and Veronica to a rather nicely appointed office. “Doctor Ducard will be right with you,” Corporal Hernandez told them. “If you need anything, Airman Reynard and I are right outside.”

He shut the door, leaving them alone in the doctor’s office. Chuck quickly looked around – no phone. What a surprise.

“We’re not getting out of here,” Veronica told him. “Just sit down and wait for this Doctor Ducard, whoever he is.”

The two sat down in the plush chairs facing Ducard’s desk. A couple minutes later, the door opened and he entered the office. “My apologies for my tardiness,” he said hurriedly upon entering the room. His voice held just a trace of a Quebecois accent. “Martin Ducard. It’s a real pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bartowski, Agent Mars.”

Chuck gave him a look of displeasure and said, “You’ll forgive me if I don’t stand and shake your hand, Doctor Ducard. You see, I’m not generally accustomed to being taken somewhere against my will. I’m especially not pleased with the fact that I don’t know what the status of my friends who were with me in Vancouver is.”

Ducard raised an eyebrow and sat behind his desk. “I can assure you that Major Casey and Agent Walker are perfectly fine, Mr. Bartowski.”

Chuck closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“Of course,” Ducard replied. “Now, I imagine you’re both wondering why you’re here.”

“Yeah,” Veronica snarked. “Just a bit.”

“Well,” Ducard continued, “you’re both on a list of highly desirable individuals who we have been keeping track of for the last two years – Ms. Mars, you for your keen intellect and your nearly perfect genetic code; Mr. Bartowski, you, of course, for your prized ability as the Intersect.”

“’We’ being Fulcrum?” Chuck asked, a trace of sarcasm in his voice.

Ducard was clearly not expecting that question. “Indeed,” he finally said. “You see, the Prime Minister was the second in command of Fulcrum, and when the commander of Fulcrum disappeared ten days ago, he took control and decided to put the Humanity Project into motion.”

“The commander of Fulcrum disappeared ten days ago?” Chuck asked, somewhat curious.

“I believe you knew her as General Louisa Beckman,” Doctor Ducard replied.

Chuck and Veronica both shot out of their chairs. “SON OF A BITCH!” Veronica yelled, while Chuck said, “BECKMAN?!”

Ducard rose slowly, indicating with his hands that they should sit down. “Please, sit,” he said calmly. “We are here not to discuss General Beckman, but rather your role in the Humanity Project.”

“Okay,” Chuck said, returning to his seat. “I’ll bite. What’s the Humanity Project?”

Ducard smiled. “The Humanity Project was actually my brainchild,” he replied. “We made a target list of fifty individuals across Canada, the United States, and Mexico who we believed to be of nearly perfect genetic stock. We intend to use these fifty individuals to breed a new race of humans. Not to replace mankind, of course, but to make humans better.”

Chuck’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit,” he whispered. “Who the hell was your hero as a kid? Josef Mengele?”

Ducard cocked an eyebrow. “Among others,” he said. “I am a scientist, Mr. Bartowski. I think in terms of science.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Veronica interrupted. “Setting aside the fact that you’re one sick and damaged motherfucker, why in heaven’s name would you take me, being practically a midget, and not somebody like, say, Sarah Walker? I mean, she’s Amazon Warrior Woman, for God’s sake!”

Ducard nodded. “A valid question,” he said, ignoring Veronica’s insult. “We did consider Agent Walker. She is, as you indicated, a beautiful specimen of human being. However, here’s the difference between her and you. You, as you said, are short. That is controlled by a gene that can be switched on in vitro.”

“In vitro?” Veronica asked. “As in, in the womb?”

“Of course,” Ducard replied, looking completely serious. “As I said, we’re looking to breed a new race. Now, as far as Agent Walker goes, she seems to be perfect, but she does have one genetic defect.”

Chuck felt like the blood drained from his head. “What? What kind of genetic defect?”

“Oh, don’t worry, Mr. Bartowski, it’s not that serious. There is a variance in the seventeenth chromosome of her genetic makeup. It’s a tau protein called the H1 haplotype. This has been linked to individuals with a terminal disease known as Progressive Supranuclear Palsy. Now, the disease is extremely rare – only 1 in 17,000 people is diagnosed with it, and victims usually don’t experience onset until their mid-sixties. However, even the slightest risk of onset was enough to eliminate her from the program.”

Chuck shook his head. “I’m sure she’d be crushed to hear she escaped from your version of Auschwitz-Birkenau,” he spat.

Ducard was silent for a moment. “May I assume that you don’t approve of this project, Mr. Bartowski?” he finally asked.

“You may assume that,” Chuck replied. “This is sick. Humans are supposed to evolve and adapt, not be engineered.”

Ducard spread his hands. “This is evolution, Mr. Bartowski. This is the advancement of the human race. And to further that cause, you will be mating with Ms. Mars. We feel that –“

“THE HELL!” Veronica shouted, springing up from her chair.

“Ms. Mars, computer models have projected that your genetic stock combined with Mr. Bartowski’s will produce an individual who is tall, attractive, has excellent musculature, a high metabolic rate, low risk of chronic disease, and most importantly, the ability to retain subliminal education,” Ducard said patiently. “It’s a logical fit.”

Chuck looked at Ducard in disbelief. “You know what,” he finally said, “take my sperm, take Veronica’s eggs – whatever. But there’s not gonna be any ‘mating’.”

“Were it only that easy,” Ducard replied. “No, the copulation and conception must be performed naturally. The pregnancy must be carried naturally. Certain hormones are released during these acts that allow the fetus to develop in a more healthy manner.”

“I don’t think you get it,” Chuck replied with a harsh laugh. “I’m telling you, I’m refusing to be part of your monstrosity.”

“Do you now,” Ducard said, his voice low and dangerous. “Very well, Mr. Bartowski. Should you choose to continue your refusal, then I will dissect Ms. Mars alive, while you watch.”

A fist of horror and dread punched Chuck in the stomach. His jaw dropped open and the color drained from his face. “You – what?!”

Veronica had frozen in her chair in fear, but now, as she heard Chuck speak, she started to cry. “You can’t do this, you sick fucker!” Chuck shouted.

“Oh, but I can, and I WILL,” Ducard replied, a trace of anger finally appearing in his voice as he rose to his feet. “Now, Mr. Bartowski, you have a choice. You can either participate in this program and have sex with Ms. Mars, or you can watch as I torture and kill her. What’s it gonna be?”

Chuck rose to his feet as well. “You are an evil bastard, and I hope you rot in hell,” he said softly, leaning in to Ducard. Then he leaned back, pulled his right hand back, and punched Ducard in the face as hard as he could.

Ducard staggered backward and collapsed to the floor. When he looked up, his nose was bleeding, but there was a smile on his face. “Can I take that as a yes, Mr. Bartowski?”

“Just to be clear, I’m not doing it for the benefit of your ungodly project,” Chuck snarled. “I’m doing it so that you don’t kill her.”

And with that, he took Veronica by the hand, wrenched the door open, and guided her out of the office. Airman Reynard quickly stepped out in front of them, guiding them out of the building. Corporal Hernandez looked into Ducard’s office, shook his head, and walked off after Chuck.

When they got in the Jeep, Hernandez looked back at Chuck and Veronica in the back seat. Veronica was still crying softly, and Chuck’s hands were shaking in anger. “I’m really sorry about all this,” Hernandez said quietly.

Chuck looked up at him, rage in his eyes. “Why the hell are you even part of ‘all this’?” he asked, a quiet fury in his voice.

Hernandez had to look away from Chuck. “I’m just following orders.”

“That didn’t work at Nüremberg, Corporal,” Chuck said bitterly. “I can assure you it’s not gonna work here.”

---

6:15 P.M., Pacific Daylight Time
Portofino Yacht Club
Redondo Beach, California

The host showed Sarah and Casey to the table they had requested. The two men they had asked to meet them there were already waiting.

Logan Echolls rose from his seat. “Sarah Walker, John Casey, this is Keith Mars, Balboa County Sheriff,” he said, introducing the shorter, balding man seated next to him.

Sheriff Mars rose and shook their hands. “Pleasure to meet you,” he said. “I understand you wanted to meet with me and Supervisor Echolls regarding something?”

Sarah nodded, and sat down slowly. The three men followed suit.

“Mr. Mars,” Sarah began.

“Please, call me Keith,” he interrupted.

“Alright,” she said, forcing a smile. “Keith, yesterday morning, while crossing the border from Vancouver to Seattle, your daughter and my fiancé were kidnapped by a domestic terrorist organization known as Fulcrum.”

Keith Mars’ eyes went wide. “My daughter… Veronica… she’s been kidnapped?”

“I’m afraid so, sir,” Casey said. “We have no idea why. We know where she’s being held, though.”

“So let’s go get her!” Mars said, springing to his feet.

“It’s not that easy, sir,” Sarah replied sadly. “Otherwise, you can believe I would’ve been there the instant we knew.”

Mars looked at his feet. “Of course,” he said quietly.

Then he looked at Sarah a little more closely. “What’s your fiancé’s name?”

Sarah realized she was treading on thin ice here. “Uh, it’s Charles Bartowski.”

Keith Mars’ darkened. “I am very tempted to say he can rot,” he said. “After the crap he has pulled on my daughter –“

“Come on, Sheriff, you used to say the same thing about me,” Logan interrupted. “Now look at us, working together.”

“Okay, listen,” Casey said, finally beginning to lose his patience. “I understand that there’s a lot of emotions here, and a lot at stake. However, here’s the long and short of it: they’re being held at a Canadian military base, and if the United States government goes in there, it’s an act of war.”

He paused to let that sink in for a moment, and then continued. “So what we need is a group of heavily armed private citizens.”

He turned to Keith Mars, with a smile on his face. “Sheriff Mars, how many men are on your force, and what other police contacts do you have?”

Chuck In a Moment, Chapter 8: "Where the Streets Have No Name"

Author’s note: with the exception of the city of Lloydminster (which straddles the provincial border with Alberta) and immediate vicinity, the province of Saskatchewan does not observe Daylight Savings Time.

---

12:30 P.M., Central Standard Time
Sunday, July 12th, 2009
Near Beauval, Saskatchewan, Canada

Chuck Bartowski came to wakefulness very, very slowly. His head was pounding.

The light seemed extraordinarily bright as he exposed his eyes to it, but it seemed that if he just opened his eyes the slightest bit at a time, they SLOWLY adjusted to the light.

Finally, he had his eyes completely open. Looking around, he took in his surroundings.

He was sitting in a rather comfortable easy chair in what appeared to be a faux-rustic log cabin. It looked like he was in what passed for a living room. All the furniture was earth tones. A forty-two inch plasma TV hung from the wall, with what appeared to be a 7.1 channel sound system arrayed around the living room.

Chuck was getting rather confused. Stepping towards the television, he discovered a cabinet below it. He opened it, and there was a Playstation 3, a Blu-Ray DVD player, the amplifier that controlled the sound system, and –

Wow. Damn good DVD selection. Good game selection, too.

Where the hell was he?

He stood up, and headed for what appeared to be the kitchen. On his way there, he passed a mirror –

What the hell?!

Chuck looked down at himself. “Why am I dressed like the Brawny paper towel guy?”

A red and black plaid flannel shirt, blue jeans, and hiking boots was not Chuck’s ordinary wardrobe choice. But that’s how he was dressed right at that moment.

“I’m hallucinating,” Chuck muttered. “That must be it.”

He stepped into the kitchen. An industrial size stainless-steel refrigerator dominated one wall of the kitchen. Chuck opened it –

“Okay, much better stocked than mine usually is.” And so it was. Plenty of food, along with a rather significant supply of Mountain Dew, Rockstars, Corona, bottled water…

Chuck wrinkled his nose. “But I don’t drink Diet Coke, wine coolers, or those disgusting bottled frappucinos,” he objected. “Why are those in here?”

Sarah, maybe? But no… Sarah liked Diet Coke, Sarah was a fan of the occasional wine cooler… but Sarah wouldn’t touch anything that came from Starbucks with a ten foot pole.

Veronica would, though, Chuck realized. “What the hell is going on?” he asked himself, shaking his head.

Why in God’s name was he in a log cabin? Grabbing one of the bottles of water in the hopes that it would ease the pounding in his head, Chuck cracked it open and took a sip. Ah, that was good. He hadn’t quite realized how thirsty he was up until that moment.

He crossed back through the living room to the front door. He pulled the door open and stepped outside.

Wherever he was, it was a beautiful day. The sky was blue, the sun was shining bright. Not a cloud in the sky. It was a bit cooler than he was used to, especially at this time of year – the temperature was probably in the mid-60s or so, but the flannel shirt more than compensated for that.

The cabin was in a wooded area – mostly aspen trees, but there were some pines and spruces as well. Chuck walked down the short dirt path in front of the house. It led to another dirt path, about as wide as a narrow street. On the other side of that path was a thin layer of trees, and then a wide expanse of concrete that greatly resembled a runway. On the other side of the runway, though, was something a little more ominous.

A chain link fence with a razor wire top ran along the runway as far as Chuck could see in either direction. Rotating red lights topped the posts every fifty feet or so, and brilliant red signs were posted on the fence that read, “DANGER: 100,000 VOLTS.”

“What is this place?” Chuck turned around, and saw that there was a cabin that outwardly appeared identical to his own every hundred feet, in a grid five by five. His was in the first row, second from the left hand end. Beyond the cabins, there were several larger structures, and beyond the structures, he could see a fence identical to the one on the other side of the runway.

Chuck didn’t know what was going on, but he sure as hell didn’t like it. This was starting to creep him out a bit. He started to head back inside the cabin, when something moving above one of the buildings caught his attention.

The Canadian flag, flapping in the wind.

And that’s when it all came back to him. The images appeared in his mind like an Intersect flash, but it was his own memories. Being stopped at the border crossing. Arrested on bogus charges of illegal arms possession. Detained for two hours without a word. Gassed in the interrogation room. Sarah’s hand slipping into his own…

“Oh my God,” he whispered. They’d finally caught up with him. Who THEY were, he had no idea. It could be the government, could be Fulcrum… who knew.

But something didn’t quite add up. Shaking his head, Chuck headed back inside the cabin. Crossing the living room, he turned left to the door of the one room he hadn’t been in yet.

Quietly opening the door, he stepped inside the bedroom. A king size bed dominated the room, and a dark blue down comforter covered the bed. Almost disappearing amidst the enormity of the bed, the tiny frame of Veronica Mars lay in the middle, all but her head concealed underneath the comforter.

Chuck smiled at how innocent the diminutive FBI agent always looked when she was asleep, and how drastically that appearance differed from her real persona. When she was awake, she was a hardened, jaded, angry young woman who had been through more by the time she graduated high school than most people would go through in their entire lives. But underneath that, there was still a sweet, kind woman, and it was the inner Veronica that had made Chuck’s life so difficult these last few weeks.

He sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. The slight movement was enough to wake Veronica.

Chuck heard her yawn, and turned to face her. Her arms appeared from under the comforter, stretching upwards as she came to wakefulness. Her eyes cracked open, and she saw Chuck sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Well…” she whispered. “An unexpected but not unwelcome sight to wake up to.”

Chuck smiled slightly. “Although, why are you dressed like a lumberjack?”

Chuck laughed softly and shook his head. “I have no idea,” he replied. “I woke up dressed like this.”

Veronica started to sit up – and then froze. “Then you have an advantage over me,” she said, her right eyebrow rising, “because I seem to be naked.”

“Seem to be?” Chuck asked.

“AM,” Veronica shot back. “Check the closet, see if there’s anything in there I can wear.”

Chuck opened the closet – “Oh my good Lord,” he said. Sure enough, one side of the closet was full of clothes that appeared to be his, and they were ALL in the same style as what he was wearing at that moment. Veronica’s side contained decidedly more feminine clothing, but it was certainly not what she would ordinarily wear.

“Oh, joy,” he heard her say sarcastically. “I get to look like hick white trash here – speaking of which, where the hell is here?”

“We’re somewhere in Canada,” Chuck replied.

Veronica laughed. “Wow,” she replied. “That REALLY narrows it down. We’re somewhere in the second largest country in the world. Congratulations, Mr. Intersect. Are you telling me that nothing out there made you flash?”

Chuck just stared at her. “Sometimes, you’re an ass.”

Veronica shrugged. “I’ve been called worse. Now get out. I want to get dressed.”

“Yeah,” Chuck cracked, “because I’ve never seen you naked before.”

“OUT!”

---

Fifteen minutes, Chuck was back where he started – sitting in the easy chair in the living room. He was working on his second bottle of water, when Veronica came out of the bedroom. He turned around to look at her – and almost choked on his mouthful of water.

She did not look pleased. She was barefoot, with a pair of loose jeans and a bulky cable-knit fisherman’s sweater on. “Well,” she grumbled, “I look like an idiot.”

Chuck raised an eyebrow and did his best not to laugh. “I have no comment,” he said.

Veronica narrowed her eyes and gave him a mocking smile. “Good call.”

She collapsed on the couch. “So, what’s going on?”

“Well,” Chuck replied, “we’ve clearly been kidnapped. For what reason, I have no idea. I also have no idea what happened to Sarah and Casey… but I’m trying not to think about that.”

He paused for a moment. Veronica could see the calm façade starting to crack a little bit, but Chuck took a deep breath, and smiled. “I don’t know who took us, but if I had to guess, I’d say it was Fulcrum. It would make no sense for the CIA to put us somewhere in Canada, and it’s like I said when we were at the border station – Bryce Larkin told me that Fulcrum pretty much disappeared from the United States.”

“Okay,” Veronica said. “So, I understand why they kidnapped you. You’re the priceless Intersect. But why me?”

Chuck shrugged and spread his hands. “No idea,” he replied. “I mean, I have a theory, but I don’t think you’ll like it.”

Veronica smiled and shook her head. “Come on, Chuck. I’ve heard all kinds of rotten shit in my time. Hit me with your best shot.”

Chuck nodded. “I think they brought you here to keep me entertained.”

That statement did not amuse Veronica. “Well. That’s lovely. I’m your plaything – your sex toy.”

“Do you have a theory that makes sense? I mean, mine barely clings to the ragged edge of logic as it is!”

She shook her head again. “But why me? If they wanted to have a woman here to keep you happy and entertained, why not grab Sarah? I mean, surely they had to know you’re engaged.”

“Are you kidding?” Chuck said. “Fulcrum, bring a CIA legend onto one of their bases? They suck, but they’re not insane.”

He sighed. “Anyway, there’s a thirty foot tall, razor-wire topped electrified fence running around the base. We’re not getting out of here unless they take us out of here.”

And then, there was a knock on the front door. “Uh… come in?”

The door opened, and two men in uniform stepped in. “Mr. Bartowski, Ms. Mars, good afternoon,” one of them said. “Would you come with us, please?”

Chuck looked at them, his eyes narrowing. “You’re Canadian Air Force!” he said in astonishment.

“Yes, sir, yes we are,” the man who had spoken replied. “Now, I’d appreciate it if you and Ms. Mars could please come with us.”

“I need to put shoes on,” Veronica replied. She headed toward the bedroom, and reappeared a moment later, grimacing at the hiking boots on her feet.

She and Chuck followed the two airmen outside. A blue Jeep Cherokee, with the insignia of the Canadian Air Force on the door, was parked on the dirt path between the cabin and the runway. The airmen opened the two back doors, holding them open for Chuck and Veronica.

Chuck leaned over to Veronica as they got into the Jeep, and spoke quickly and quietly. “I think things just got a little more complicated.”

---

12:00 P.M., Pacific Daylight Time
Seattle, Washington

Sarah and Casey sat on a bed in a room at the Fairmont Olympic Hotel. Arthur Graham sat on the other bed, facing them. His face was downcast.

“There’s not much we can do right at the moment,” he said quietly. “They’re on a Fulcrum base fairly deep inside Canada.”

“So what’s the problem?” Sarah asked insistently. “We go in there, we extract them. End of story.”

“It’s not that simple,” Graham replied. “It’s an active Canadian Air Force field. Conducting an operation against it would constitute an act of war.”

“So what the hell do we do?” Casey protested. “We can’t just sit here while Fulcrum does God-knows-what to Bartowski and Mars!”

“We don’t have a choice,” Graham said. “Right now, all that we can do is have the President lodge a diplomatic protest with the Canadian government, but I don’t think that even that is going to do us much good.”

“Why the hell not?” Sarah replied. “Aren’t we on generally friendly terms with Canada?”

“For the most part, yes,” was the answer. “However… I have a little birdie formerly known as Fulcrum Command locked in the basement of Langley who tells me that the second in command, who is now technically Fulcrum Command, was the Prime Minister of Canada.”

Sarah and Casey’s jaws both dropped as they stared at Graham. “The Prime Minister of Canada is in charge of Fulcrum?” Sarah finally asked.

Casey shook his head. “So, who was the old Fulcrum Command, and how’d you get your hands on him?”

“Uh, her, actually,” Graham said, inclining his head toward Casey.

His face took on a look of disgust. “GENERAL BECKMAN?!”

Graham nodded. “Forget you ever heard that, Major Casey. In fact, both of you need to just forget about all of this for now. Go back to Los Angeles, and wait for word from me.”

He rose and crossed to the hotel room door. “Take no action. Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t start a war.”

Sarah stood to her feet. “Come on, Director Graham,” she objected, “do you honestly think we’d start a war to get Chuck and Veronica back?”

He looked at her, and then at Casey. “Major Casey, no. I don’t think he would. You, on the other hand…”

Director Graham looked Sarah in the eyes. “I definitely think you would.”