Author's warning: this chapter is extremely dark, and potentially disturbing. It is not for the faint of heart.
10:04 A.M., Central Standard Time
Friday, August 14th, 2009
Lac la Plonde Auxiliary Air Field, Saskatchewan, Canada
Chuck and Veronica were sitting at the breakfast table. She had taken to making breakfast the last few days. Chuck seemed miserable, and she was trying to snap him out of it.
It broke her heart to see him the way he was. The Chuck Bartowski was a fun, vibrant person, and it was awful to see him in the funk he had slipped into.
But what broke her heart even more than that was the fact that she knew why he was so miserable. He was desperately, madly in love with Sarah, but his old feelings for Veronica were rearing their head, and he was trying to fight them off.
And that was the thing – she wasn’t sure what was breaking her heart, the fact that the feelings were making him miserable, or the fact that he WAS trying to resist them.
As selfish as she knew it was, she had had these hopes, deep down, that maybe something good would come of this whole thing – maybe it would bring him back to her. The three months that she and Chuck Bartowski had been together – never had she felt more loved, more cared for than she had during that short period of time.
He was so sweet about everything, too. During what he still insisted on calling their “mandatory daily activities”, he was always gentle, always patient. He never tried to rush it, and get it over with – but Veronica always sensed that part of him wasn’t there. She sensed that part of him was somewhere in southern California.
The knock on the door startled them both. They had both had routine weekly physicals the day before, and neither had expected to be taken anywhere for anything. They were both still in good health, both doing what they had to do.
Chuck got up, a puzzled look on his face. He crossed to the door and pulled it open. Corporal Hernandez and Airman Reynard stood there. “Doctor Ducard has asked to see Ms. Mars,” Hernandez said.
“Okay,” Chuck said with a shrug. He turned to Veronica. “Hey, the doctor needs to see us.”
“Uh, actually,” Hernandez interrupted him, “he just wanted to see Ms. Mars.”
“Oh,” Chuck replied. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like it one bit. But there wasn’t much he could do. “Uh, okay then.”
Veronica got up from the table. “I’ll be just a moment,” she told them, as she pulled her shoes on. And indeed, a moment later, she walked out the door, and headed to the Jeep Cherokee.
Hernandez and Reynard started to turn to follow her, but Chuck grabbed Hernandez’s shoulder. “Hey,” he said quietly. Hernandez turned back to face him. “Keep an eye on her, okay?”
Hernandez nodded. “I will, Mr. Bartowski.”
9:45 A.M., Pacific Daylight Time
Balboa County Sheriff’s Department
Neptune, California
Keith Mars didn’t like the way things were going at all. His deputies were getting edgy, anxious to leave.
But John Casey had said they weren’t leaving till he gave the word. He said that if they left too soon, it would be a disaster.
Keith had replied that Casey had no idea what it was like to have somebody you loved in as much danger as Veronica had to be in. Casey had looked back at him, shaken his head, and said, “You have no idea, Sheriff Mars.”
Keith had to find something with which to occupy himself, so he had started calling in markers from the San Diego County Sheriff, the Orange County Sheriff, and the Los Angeles County Sheriff. He arranged for them to conduct patrols of Balboa County while the sheriff’s department was away, although it took quite a bit of convincing to talk them into being prepared to do it on a moment’s notice.
Worse still, though, was what the waiting was doing to Logan Echolls. Keith had, on more than one occasion, left the county building fairly late, and seen Logan still there, only to return the next morning to find him there, wearing the same clothes he had the day before. On those days, he always had a deputy walk Logan out to a squad car, drive him home, and force him to get at least four hours worth of sleep.
This morning had been one more of those cases. Keith shook his head and took a drink of his coffee. Poor Logan. He’d never truly gotten over Veronica. He’d done his best to just be her friend, but his feelings for her ran too deep.
Keith rolled his eyes. Never had he thought he’d feel sorry for Logan Echolls. But he had something in common with Logan – he loved Veronica, and he was pretty anxious to go after her.
The Avalon Hotel
Avalon, Santa Catalina Island, California
A cold fury burned inside of Sarah Walker as she attacked the punching bag. She went after it with a forcefulness that she hadn’t let loose in years.
The familiar strains of Rage Against the Machine’s “Killing In the Name Of” filled the suite, fueling the anger. She beat at the punching bag as if it were her worst enemy –
Or as if it were a certain flame haired DEA agent slut. Bryce had called her the night they crossed into Canada, and though she was sure it was unintentional, he had let slip something Carina had told him.
He told her that Carina had slept with Chuck the night of Sarah’s own memorial service. That just pissed her off beyond measure.
She didn’t blame Chuck. Chuck had thought she was dead, after all. He was seeking comfort, and Carina was offering it. She had to wonder about his choice in judgment, but she wasn’t going to fault him for it.
No, only one person was going to be faulted. That was DEA Agent Carina Hansen. Sarah was going to finish the mission, and then she was going to put Carina’s ass through a wall.
11:33 A.M., CST
Lac la Plonde
Chuck was midway through the fifth episode of Moonlight when there was a pounding on the front door. “What the hell?” he muttered as he stood up and crossed to the door. The pounding came again, more insistent this time. “I’m coming, I’m coming!” he shouted.
He pulled open the door and was greeted with a shocking sight. Corporal Hernandez and Airman Reynard were both back – but they both looked like they’d seen the end of the world.
A strange high pitched noise sounded faintly in Chuck’s ears. It sounded almost like an animal howling, but he could neither place it nor figure out where it was coming from. “Guys, what’s going on?” he asked.
Neither of them spoke for a moment. “HERNANDEZ. Say something.”
The corporal’s chin shook as he forced his mouth open. “I… I just… I heard it,” he stammered. “I didn’t s-see anything… but R-Reynard did-d.”
Reynard looked like he was about to go into shock. “Reynard?” Chuck asked, growing more and more alarmed with each passing second. “What did you see?”
“Uh… uh, I-I saw Agent Mars… she, she, uh, she went into Ducard’s office. She went into his office, and he left the d-door partially op… open. He t-told her that he had g-gone over her phys, her physical from the day before, and…”
Reynard paused and inhaled a great heaving breath. “And he told her that she was pregnant. Th-then he did a, a, a, you know, the sound thingy…”
“An ultrasound,” Chuck breathed. Had he heard correctly?!
“He d-did an ultrasound… and then, then he strapped her down… and he took it.”
Chuck felt like an anvil had been dropped on his head. “What?”
“Oh, God, it was awful,” Reynard sobbed. “He took, he took this tube, and he stuck it inside her, and then… then he sucked it out! He took it, and, and he st-stuck it in a j-j-jar!”
Reynard collapsed to his hands and knees, and vomited on the porch. Hernandez looked like death warmed over.
Chuck felt like he had just died. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. And then he heard it again – that high pitched wailing.
“What’s that noise?” he whispered, even though he was already pretty sure he knew exactly what it was.
“That’s Agent Mars,” Hernandez replied softly. “Oh my God, what have we done?”
Hernandez continued standing on the porch, staring at the front door with vacant eyes. Chuck started to walk toward the Jeep, then ran. He wrenched open the back door – and was assaulted by the primal scream that ripped forth from Veronica’s throat.
“Veronica!” he said, horrified. “Oh God, what did he do to you?”
He reached in, unbuckled her seatbelt, and gathered her into his arms. She felt almost as light as a feather.
Almost as soon as he touched her, she stopped screaming. She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed so tightly he thought she was going to cut off his breathing.
Chuck ran back toward the cabin, past Hernandez and Reynard, and took Veronica into the bedroom. He laid her down on the bed, and then turned back toward the living room.
“NO!” Veronica howled. Chuck turned back around, terrified by the sound of her voice.
“Please… don’t go…” she begged in a broken voice.
“I’ll be right back,” he whispered, not able to muster his own voice. “I swear.”
Chuck went back to the front door, stepped out on the porch, and shut the door behind him. Reynard was finally getting back to his feet.
Chuck took a deep breath and looked at the two of them. “Where are your families?”
“My parents moved to Florida five years ago,” Reynard replied, his voice empty.
“Cuba,” Hernandez replied simply.
“Then get out,” Chuck told them. “You have to get as far from this place as you can. It’s going to fall eventually, and you can’t be here when that happens. Go back to your barracks, get your things, take that Jeep, and get as far away as you can.”
“Where would we go?” Hernandez asked, his voice distant.
“Go to Los Angeles,” Chuck said, trying to make his thoughts override the raging emotions in his brain. “Go to the town of Neptune, and see a man named Logan Echolls. Tell him you know me. He’ll help you.”
Reynard turned his gaze on Chuck. “Why are you trying to help us?”
What was Chuck supposed to say? “I don’t know,” he said. “I just think you’re good people. Please, prove me right.”
Reynard and Hernandez both turned without a word, without a backward glance, and walked back to the Jeep. They got in and drove away, leaving a cloud of dust.
Chuck backed through the door, closing it as he went. He turned, and walked into the bedroom.
Veronica lay on the center of the bed, curled in a ball. Her body was wracked with silent sobs, and every so often, a wordless cry of anguish would burst forth.
Chuck sat down on the bed next to her. He reached out an arm, put it around her shoulders – and she practically crawled onto him, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder. He wrapped his right arm around her shoulders and his left arm around her back, hugging her tightly against him.
He realized his own face was wet with tears. His mind raged. Nobody should have to experience that. Nobody, not ever.
They didn’t move for hours.
4:00 P.M., PDT
Neptune, California
“Our agent is in place,” Casey announced. A round of applause greeted the declaration.
“He will hopefully make contact either tonight or tomorrow,” he continued. “As soon as he does, he’ll send his signal. If we get his signal within the next twenty-four hours, we take off on Sunday morning.”
He paused. “I am very proud to stand here before you, all citizens, all volunteers, willing to risk everything to go rescue two people. It’s on a day like today that I’m proud to be an American.”
John Casey grinned, and the applause was practically deafening.
5:30 PM, CST
Lac la Plonge
Chuck had stayed by Veronica’s side all afternoon, holding her close as she cried. Torturous, anguished sobs spilled out of her, over and over, until she finally fell asleep.
Even then, he stayed with her, holding her as she slept. He could only pray that she would have a peaceful, dreamless sleep, that the events of that morning would not haunt her unconscious mind as well.
Then there was a knock on the door. Chuck nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard it. A knock at the door was the last thing he wanted to hear, after what had happened that day.
When he answered it, though, an unfamiliar face greeted him. A man in a Canadian Air Force uniform stood there. He had a mustache, a full beard, a short, spiky haircut, and aviator sunglasses. “Mr. Bartowski,” he said.
That voice. It sounded familiar… but Chuck couldn’t place it. “Can I talk to you for a moment, outside, please?” the Canadian airman asked.
Chuck just nodded and stepped outside. The airman reached behind him and closed the door. Then he turned and faced Chuck. “It’s good to see you, Chuck,” he said, as he removed the sunglasses.
Chuck nearly had a heart attack. The sunglasses, the beard, the mustache, the haircut – they had all made him look different. But it was the eyes. There was no mistaking the eyes.
A smile almost found its way to his lips, but thoughts of the day pushed it away.
“It’s good to see you, too, Bryce.”
