This is an example of what sleep deprivation can do to your mind. Enjoy.

P.S. I still don't own anything. Not even my car.

Fulcrum vs. The Super Agent

The sleek European coupe downshifted smoothly, its driver killing the headlights a block before gliding to a silent stop just shy of his destination. The door swung silently open, and a moment later a pair of exquisitely made black Italian leather shoes alighted on the pavement. They were polished to such a sheen that they reflected the starlight above - quite a trick in Los Angeles - and their price tag represented an embarrassingly large percentage of the price of the vehicle from which they had just emerged. After another moment the owner of the shoes finished getting out of the car and smoothed his hand-tailored Versace tuxedo, black like the shoes and cut so well that you couldn't tell where it ended and the Agent began. Models on a Paris runway didn't look so good.

The Agent checked his information, a look of profound disappointment settling on his face as he regarded the building in front of him. This couldn't possibly be the right place. Surely, HQ was joking about this address.

It was a dilapidated warehouse in a mostly abandoned old industrial park. This was the best an outfit like Fulcrum could do? Honestly, it's as if villains had stopped even trying. One would think that a super-secret organization bent on world domination would show a little more style - a mountaintop retreat, a lair in a hollowed out extinct volcano, maybe a hideout at the bottom of the Pacific. Was that really asking too much?

The Agent shook his head sadly. What he wouldn't give to face an adversary who still took some pride in his work.

His musings on the sad state of villainy were interrupted by a soft chiming from his inside jacket pocket. An untrained eye might have thought that the device he extracted from said pocket was an ordinary iPhone, no different from millions of others. The truth, of course, was somewhat different.

He keyed the device to accept the call and tried very hard to keep the annoyance from his voice when he saw the name on the caller ID. "Good evening, ma'am."

General Beckman, however, did not make the same effort. She sounded annoyed as hell. "Agent Carmichael?"

"Yes, Diane?" There were very few things on God's earth that irritated General Beckman more than him calling her Diane, which is precisely why Carmichael enjoyed it so much.

"Agent Carmichael. You didn't report in at 1800 hours as agreed."

"I was, ah, otherwise occupied at the time. My apologies."

"Never mind. Did you receive the coordinates of the Fulcrum base?"

"I'm right in front of it as we speak. And I would like to point out that I would already be on my way inside if not for stopping to talk with you, Diane. But since we're having this lovely chat, feel free to pass on any other information that you may have. I'm in a hurry, though, so try to limit yourself to the bits that might actually be useful."

There was a long pause, almost as if someone was slowly and silently counting to ten. "Very well. The facility was once a small factory that produced automotive components, but the owning company moved its manufacturing operations overseas twelve years ago and the building has been unoccupied since. We believe that Fulcrum has been using it for the last two years as a supply dump and meeting place. The industrial park in which it sits is about three quarters empty, allowing for a lot of privacy, and the loading dock in the rear allows for the unobtrusive loading and unloading of large amounts of material."

Agent Carmichael stifled a yawn. "How thoroughly boring. I have an idea, Diane. Let's skip to the part where you tell me exactly why I'm here. I know you didn't fly me in from Monaco just to case a supply dump, so drop the other shoe already and spare me all the waiting."

This time, Beckman didn't even make it to one. "You would already know why you're here if you had called in for your briefing. In my entire career, I have never worked with anyone as insubordinate as you. If you worked for me, I'd have you and your tuxedo counting penguins at a research station in Antarctica. But since you don't and time is of the essence, I'll settle for daydreaming about that later."

The General took a deep breath to steady herself before continuing. "You are here because two of our best agents have gone missing. They were attempting to infiltrate Fulcrum to gain information on its leadership, but they missed their last check-in thirty six hours ago and we're afraid that they have been taken. Fulcrum will likely try to move them out of the area to conduct a full interrogation at a more secure location, and we want you to help us get them out before that happens. This warehouse is the most likely transfer point. Your job is to scout the location. The factory itself is basically a large open area with lots of abandoned equipment that can be used for cover. If Agents Walker and Larkin are there, they'll most likely be held in the office. It's a loft at the south end of the warehouse, and there is only one stairwell up. If you can spot Walker and Larkin and the opportunity presents itself, call in the strike team that's standing by. If not, get what information you can and report back to me."

One of Agent Carmichael's eyebrows shot up. "Agent Sarah Walker?"

"Correct."

Agent Carmichael suddenly began to reevaluate his interest in this mission. His work allowed him to associate with some truly beautiful women, but Sarah Walker was one of a kind. It was definitely worth risking life and limb to save her. But Larkin?

"General, I fully agree that Agent Walker is something special. However, I knew Bryce Larkin back at Stanford. He's always been, well..."

The General offered a helpful suggestion. "An asshole?"

Carmichael had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing. Who knew that Diane had that in her? "Well put, ma'am."

"Actually, he's almost as arrogant as you, which is even more annoying because he's nowhere near as good. But he knows too much to let Fulcrum have him. And besides, we don't leave anyone behind – not even the assholes."

"Understood, General. Don't worry, I'll get them back for you."

"Were you listening to your orders, Agent Carmichael? Did you not hear the part about calling in the strike team?"

"Yes, Diane. I heard you just fine."

Beckman sounded resigned. "You're not going to call the strike team, are you?"

Carmichael smiled. "Of course I am. Someone will need to clean up when I'm done. Make sure they have brooms – I tend to leave a mess. Oh, and Diane? Don't be upset about the name thing. Calling you "Diane" to your face is better than calling you "Strawberry Shortcake" behind your back."

If the phone had been any closer to his ear, he might have gone deaf. "WHAT? WHO CALLS ME THAT?"

"Agents never fink on each other, Diane. But you might want to mention that nickname in front of John Casey and see what reaction you get."

"WHO? Lieutenant, find me John Casey! NOW!"

"Goodbye, Diane. Lovely talking to you." And goodbye to you as well, Casey. Now we're even for Istanbul. Have fun in Antarctica, and say hello to the penguins for me.

Feeling very satisfied with life, Carmichael slid his phone back into its pocket and headed for the building. "Now, let's play 'Find the Agents'.

- - - - - - - - - -

Bryce Larkin was kneeling on the gridwork floor of the loft, doubled over in pain. They'd been working on him for over an hour now, and there wasn't a part of him that didn't hurt. Tied to a chair a few feet away, Sarah Walker was trying to find some pity for Bryce, but she was having a tough time of it since it was his screwup that had landed them in this mess. Typical Bryce, she thought. He had always thought that he was just a little better than he actually was. He'd insisted that he could get in and out of the warehouse undetected, so of course he'd managed to trip the alarm. Sarah went in after him and had almost gotten him out, taking out several of the Fulcrum agents inside, but there had been one big surprise that she hadn't counted on, and now she had to watch as her partner got the stuffing knocked out of him. They really didn't even seem to be asking him much – they were just having fun beating him senseless. Sarah could relate to that.

One of the Fulcrum agents pushed Bryce completely over. "Okay, that's enough for Pretty Boy for a while. I want to start on the even prettier girl. And boy, does she have a lot to answer for." He looked over his shoulder as he said that, at a body that hadn't moved in quite a while. The knife sticking out of its back might have had something to do with its lack of motion, and that knife belonged to Sarah. Grinning wickedly, the Fulcrum agent was rolling up his sleeves and walking towards her when he was stopped by a voice from the top of the stairs.

"If you want something from the lady, try flowers and candy. Sure, they're old fashioned, but girls like them anyway."

The agent that had been approaching Sarah froze in his tracks. "Who the...???" With a quick and practiced hand he went for the Beretta in his belt, but before he got anywhere close his hands jerked back up to his throat, pulling at the knife that had lodged there and trying desperately to stop the fountain of blood that spurted from between his fingers. He fell, trying to focus on the man by the stairs as his eyes glazed over, unable to believe that he'd just been killed by the best looking waiter he'd ever seen.

Quick as a flash, the rest of the Fulcrum agents had their weapons drawn on the waiter. He raised his hands to show they were empty and began walking slowly towards them, Sarah and Bryce directly in between. Bryce was still on the ground, but Carmichael noticed that he was conscious and seemed alert. Bryce may be an asshole, Carmichael thought, but at least he wasn't a total idiot. "Hold on now, fellas. Ol' Skippy there was asking for that. What would you have done if you were me? Didn't your mommies teach you to play nice with girls?"

"I think we can make an exception in the case of girls who throw knives at us."

Carmichael knew that voice. He turned to look in the direction of the office, and in its doorway he saw what had surprised Sarah earlier.

Tommy. With a very large gun.

"Ah. Double Agent Scarface. How unsurprising to see you. Won't you introduce me to everyone? I'd love to say hello to your little friends."

Tommy laughed, but the gun didn't waver. "You always were funny, you know that? Everyone, meet Agent Charles Carmichael."

There were gasps from everyone. Walker looked stunned. "Agent Charles Carmichael?"

It pleased Carmichael quite a bit to see Walker's reaction. "The one and only, my dear. And allow me to tell you now that the stories you've heard about me are all true."

Tommy laughed again. "Carmichael, you're a riot. Now slowly reach inside your jacket and pull out your gun. Concentrate on the "slowly" part."

"I'd love to help you, Tommy, but I don't actually have a gun."

This surprised everyone, but Sarah most of all.

"Don't get me wrong, Agent Carmichael. I'm glad you're here. Thanks for saving me a moment ago. But wouldn't it have been better if you'd brought some help?" She looked at his empty hands and scowled. "Or at least a gun??"

"I never have carried a gun. No matter where you stash it, it ruins the line of the tux."

Walker couldn't believe what she was hearing. "So you came in here with nothing?"

"Well, I did find your knife downstairs. The one I took out of the dead gentleman at the base of the stairs? I know it's yours, because Bryce never could throw a knife worth a damn. Oh, and I have my phone."

Tommy perked up at that. "Right, the phone. Why don't you just slide it over here to me so I can shut off the GPS tracker that I'm sure it has? Again, focus on 'slowly'."

Carmichael reached very gingerly into his jacket pocket and retrieved the phone. He was bending down to slide it to Tommy when he quickly tapped the screen twice. A bright red bolt streaked out and Tommy screamed in pain and went down, clutching his face as smoke escaped from between his fingers. The others were momentarily frozen, and Carmichael used the opportunity to slide in front of Sarah and help Bryce to his feet. Tommy was now silent, unconscious and probably in shock, but the others had recovered their wits and were again beginning to advance on the agents. Walker had also heard noise from beneath them, and glanced down to check on it.

Sarah whispered a warning to Carmichael. "The lookout from the front door is on his way up the stairs. We're trapped."

"You left a lookout alive down there? I'm disappointed, Walker. Tell me when he gets about three quarters of the way up, won't you? In the meantime, just keep backing up towards the landing and get ready to grab on to me."

Carmichael turned to the Fulcrum agents. "Okay guys, let's be reasonable now. What's done is done. Truth be told, I just really didn't like Tommy, and now that he's gone we can all be friends. Here, I'll raise my hands above my head as a goodwill gesture."

Sarah whispered again. "The guard is at three-quarters."

The best thing about being a living legend, Carmichael thought, is that it buys you an extra split second. Everyone is so preoccupied trying to figure out what you might do that they're slower to react to what you actually do. Consequently, when Carmichael tapped his phone yet again and the line shot out of either side, fastening into the wall above on one side and just above the window on the other, the Fulcrum agents were just a few seconds slow to pick up on what was happening. And that was all the opening that Carmichael needed.

"Grab hold, won't you, dear? There's a good girl. Off we go..." They slid rapidly down the line, Carmichael holding Bryce in front and Walker on his back. About two-thirds of the way down Carmichael tapped his phone and the line retracted, leaving the three of them in a freefall.

"Here's where you're gonna take one for the team, Bryce old chum. Well, more like eleven or twelve, but you get the idea." He positioned Bryce in front, allowing him to take the impact with the window, shielding himself and Sarah. They landed perfectly in the half full dumpster he had spotted before he'd gone in, Bryce again taking the brunt.

Standing up in the dumpster, Carmichael took a quick look at Sarah, who seemed to be fine if a little winded. Bryce was cut up from the window and banged up from the dumpster impact, unconscious but alive. Lastly, he took a look at himself. He seemed to have come through unscathed yet again, until he noticed...

One small spot of blood on his cuff. Donatella will be so aggravated if it doesn't come out, especially after all of those private "fittings" in Milan. Damn Larkin, anyway. Always making a mess of things. Couldn't he have bled in the other direction?

Meanwhile, Agent Walker had recovered quickly and was already on her feet, climbing out of the dumpster. She really was something special. "I don't mean to sound rude, Agent Carmichael, but shouldn't we be running? It won't take them long to get down the stairs."

Carmichael wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back into the dumpster. "Nothing to worry about, Agent Walker. I have the situation well in hand." As he spoke those words he tapped his phone again, and an orange blossom of flame lit the sky as a section of the warehouse went up behind them. Sarah watched through the now broken window as the office loft came crashing down on top of the Fulcrum agents on the stairs.

Carmichael smiled his most dazzling smile, and Sarah was starstruck. "Isn't it wonderful what a little C4 can do? I took the liberty of placing some at the base of the stairwell before coming up to get you. Now all we have to do is figure out how to spend the time before the strike team arrives."

Agent Walker could feel the the pressure and heat from the explosion, but that wasn't why she was feeling warm and flushed. "Oh, Agent Carmichael..."

"Call me Chuck."

"Oh, Chuck...Chuck..."

"Wake up already."

- - - - - - - - - -

"Wha? Huh?"

"Chuck, you have to get up NOW. You turned off your alarm and overslept, so we're late."

Chuck tried to make his sleep-blurred eyes focus on Sarah. She looked mildly annoyed. All in all, he preferred the look of adoration on Agent Walker's face, and he wanted to go back to sleep to see if it was still there.

Sarah saw Chuck's head began to slump and realized that drastic measures were needed. She yanked the covers back and pulled the pillow out from under Chuck's head, misjudging the distance by just enough to cause his head to lightly tap the headboard.

"OW! Okay, I get it. I'm awake. You don't have to assault me or anything."

"Assault? Oh, please. Don't be such a drama queen. Frankly, I though that Agent Carmichael would be made of sterner stuff." Sarah grinned and waited.

Chuck froze like a deer in headlights. "Agent...oh, crap. How long were you standing there? What did you hear?"

Sarah walked seductively over to Chuck and looped her arms around his neck. "I'll never tell. I'll keep your secrets, Agent Carmichael. It's the least I can do for my own personal hero." She gave him a peck on the nose. "It's a shame about Bryce, though. Poor guy."

Chuck couldn't stop a groan from escaping. "This is gonna be the longest day of my life, isn't it?"

Sarah's smug grin was all the answer he needed.

- - - - - - - - - -

To say that the ride to work was quiet would be charitable. Chuck was too embarrassed to say anything, so he sipped his coffee and tried to look anywhere but at Sarah. Sarah, on the other hand, was torn between a burning desire to tease and needle Chuck and her natural tendency to protect him. She settled for leaving him in peace for most of the ride, but as they pulled into the parking lot at the Buy More, the urge to say something became overwhelming.

"So, you had to stage a dreamland rescue, huh? I take it that Bryce and I got into some serious trouble?"

Chuck's face turned bright red. "Yep. I don't remember the details, but I strongly suspect that it was all Bryce's fault."

That got a little chuckle, which made Chuck feel a bit better. Sarah squeezed his hand. "Let's agree that it was his fault. After all, I have a reputation to uphold. I wouldn't want to word to get out that I was captured, even in a dream."

Chuck looked incredulous. "And you think you have to worry about ME telling anyone about this??"

Sarah saw his point. "No, I suppose not. I do wonder why you had that dream, though. Did you and Morgan watch a Bond movie last night or something?"

"No." Chuck wouldn't say more. He just sat there with a sheepish look on his still pink face.

Sarah realized that he thought he knew why he had the dream. The look on his face gave it away, and it freaked her out a little to realize how well she was getting to know him. "Spill it, Chuck. Or I'll tell Casey." Maybe a little over the line, Sarah thought, but she really wanted to know.

Chuck acted like every word was a tooth that had to be pulled, but he told her the truth. "You risk your life for me all the time. I know it's your job, but it's still dangerous and I worry about you. I feel useless so much of the time, and it's frustrating. I kinda wish I did know how to do all that stuff so that if I really had to, I could save you."

And just like that, the humor was gone. Sarah just stared into Chuck's brown eyes, amazed at him yet again and wondering at how she could keep misjudging him so badly. His dream wasn't about some desire to be cool or smooth, or about jealousy of Bryce. With Chuck, nothing he did was about himself. He was always about other people, which was why it hurt him so badly when they betrayed him. But still he kept thinking of himself last, because that was who he was.

Sarah had no idea what to say. She just sat there, staring at Chuck. Feeling horribly awkward, Chuck was about to mumble a goodbye and make his escape when Sarah took his hands. She then leaned over and gave him a brief but electric kiss.

"I'm not used to having people care about me, Chuck, especially not more than they care about themselves. I have no idea how to handle that. But I think that a 'thank you' is in order."

Chuck smile was wider than the Grand Canyon. "You're welcome, Sarah."

They got out of the car and headed to their respective jobs. Sarah looked back to see Chuck walking towards the Buy More, and she felt the urge to call out to him. She'd left something unsaid. It should probably remain that way, but she couldn't walk away from it, not after the gift he'd just given her.

"Chuck? Hey, Chuck!"

He turned to face her, still smiling from her kiss. "Yeah, Sarah?"

"You are saving me. A little bit more every day."