CHUCK VERSUS THE AMBER ALERT (Chuck 6-04)

Concluding the fourth episode of an imaginary sixth season of Chuck.

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, but I can't seem to get it out of my head, either.

EPILOGUE

The next morning, at Ronald Reagan-UCLA Medical Center

With a small ceramic vase full of short-stemmed yellow roses in his right hand—and Sarah's hand in his left—Chuck walks along a familiarly busy hallway in the general-surgery department, alongside his wife, heading for the reception desk. In contrast to the bustle all around, the chairs in the waiting area are empty, except for one slim, middle-aged, strawberry-blonde woman in a grey business suit, talking softly on a cell phone. She looks up at Chuck and Sarah, as if startled.

The nurse on duty at the reception desk turns away from her monitor screen and smiles at the sight of the approaching, sharply dressed young couple bearing their floral gift.

"Good morning," she greets them. "And good timing—visiting hours have just started."

"Thanks," replies Chuck as he and Sarah arrive at the desk. "We're here to see Drea…um, Lieutenant Ortega. We heard she's off the critical list."

"Uh-huh. Are you family?"

Sarah nudges her husband with her elbow—ever so slightly—and with a flicker of her eyes directs his attention to a hallway on the other side of the reception area, where a uniformed CHP officer standing watch at one of the rooms is looking straight at them. Chuck squeezes Sarah's hand twice in acknowledgment.

"Umm…no," he answers the nurse. "Just friends. Does it matter?"

"It does. I'm sorry, but she's got a very restricted list of approved visitors—just immediate family and law enforcement." She points to the flowers in Chuck's hand. "You can leave those here and I'll make sure she gets them."

"But we are friends of hers," insists Sarah. "You can't cut us a little slack…?"

Chuck glances at the back hallway again. The CHP officer is gone. Meanwhile, the duty nurse looks sympathetically at Chuck and Sarah, but firmly shakes her head.

"I'm very sorry, ma'am…but my instructions—"

Whatever else the nurse intends to say is lost in a sudden, explosive clang-clatter-clang issuing from a storage closet off the back hallway—a noise that sounds very much like the racket of several dozen stainless-steel bedpans falling all at once from a high shelf onto the floor.

"What the hell?" The nurse springs from her chair and sprints past the CHP officer, who is back at his post, looking deeply befuddled. But then, as soon as the nurse disappears into the stricken storage closet, he hurriedly waves Sarah and Chuck into Ortega's room, and closes the door behind them.

The heroic policewoman is pale, and drowsy, and wired up to all manner of pulsing and beeping monitors—but she's sitting up in bed, and her eyes brighten markedly at the sight of her visitors.

"H-hey there…great to see you both," murmurs Ortega, as Chuck and Sarah position themselves on opposite sides of her bed.

"Well, we think it's great to see you doing so well," Sarah counters.

"For sure." Chuck shakes his head in agreement, and holds up the vase of roses so that Ortega can get a good look at it. Then he turns and searches for a place for it on a bedside table already packed with different floral arrangements.

"Thank you both…and not just for the pretty flowers, I mean."

"Looks like someone else beat us to it," notes Chuck, still intent on the bedside table. "More than one someone."

"I do have a really big family," Ortega says. "Lots of aunts and uncles and cousins. You just missed meeting a few of 'em, actually. They went to get coffee—and I sure hope they remember to bring me some!"

Chuck manages to carve out just enough space atop the table for his humble vase by sliding a particularly flamboyant bunch of deep-red roses a little farther back. In the process, he notices the name on the card affixed to it—and chuckles.

"Ha—the big bouquet's from Special Agent Mazowiecki!"

"Is he trying to make nice for claiming all the credit for busting Ami and his gang?" Sarah asks.

Ortega laughs—then grimaces in pain. "Ohhh! I keep forgetting not to do that! Yeah…I saw it on the news too. He is kind of douche-y, I guess…I dunno…." A ruddy blush sweeps over Ortega's previously pallid face: an awkward indication to change the subject post-haste.

Chuck gamely tries. "So…Drea…did they say how long it'd be 'til you can get back on your bike?"

About fifteen minutes later, the promised passel of Ortega's cousins returns to her room. Sarah and Chuck deem that an appropriate moment to take their leave. On their way out, they flash appreciative grins at the CHP officer still standing watch, and wave at the duty nurse who's now glowering at them from the reception desk.

Then, just a few paces farther along the hall, they're intercepted by the strawberry-blonde woman who had been sitting in the waiting area.

"Excuse me," she calls out to them cordially. "May I have a teeny bit of your time?" The woman shakes hands with both Bartowskis, but then presents a business card to Sarah while directly addressing her.

"My name is Christine Crocker-Reynolds. I'm a senior executive editor at SNN, and I'm here about our helicopter—the one that took an unscheduled trip to San Pedro yesterday."

Both Sarah and Chuck are far too experienced as spies to let their surprise show.

"How's that?" responds Sarah with well-acted bewilderment. "Oh yeah! We saw that on the TV news last night…didn't we darling?"

"That's right," Chuck says. "That traffic guy—Sy Whatshisface—didn't he get arrested or somethin'?"

Crocker-Reynolds rolls her eyes dramatically. "That he did, hon…that he did. It's a disaster! Worst of all's that Chopper SNN is grounded until we hire his replacement."

She turns back to Sarah. "And that's why I'm here talking to you…I'm sorry, did you tell me what your name was?"

"No, I didn't," Sarah replies. "And I don't understand what you mean—"

"I'd think that'd be obvious by now, hon. Sy Packard wasn't flying that helicopter. I've spoken with three different witnesses who all swear that the person who was at the controls, helping out the FBI, was a pretty blonde lady in a ninja suit—more or less meeting your exact specs."

Sarah's face scrunches in disbelief. "Haanhh? You can't be serious!"

The news editor continues, "There's a cockpit cam—Sy always liked to mug on the air—but some clever so-and-so turned it off. Any ideas about that, honey?"

Chuck and Sarah both erupt in sputtering laughter.

"Me flying their—hyuhh!—helicopter!" Sarah bursts out.

"Hey—snnnk!—babe," Chuck chortles, patting his wife on the back, "why don't you—phhhff!—ask her—snort!—for the job?"

That evokes a fresh gust of guffaws from Sarah. Crocker-Reynolds placidly waits a few beats for the two of them to simmer down, and then:

"There's no need to ask, hon. I'm actually here to see if you might like to interview for the position, Mizz—I'm sorry—I still didn't get your name…?"

"Aw, c'mon now," replies Sarah as she wipes tears from her eyes. "I barely know how to drive a stick shift!"

The SNN editor folds her arms over her chest and looks dubious. "Really? Because from what I heard—"

"Ms. Crocker-Reynolds! Hey there! Ms. Crocker-Reynolds!"

She slaps her forehead as Chuck and Sarah turn in the direction from which the new voice is coming—and their subtle smiles to each other signify that they already recognize it.

"Hello yet again…Agent Mazowiecki," mutters Crocker-Reynolds.

The FBI agent is running toward them, breathing hard and perspiring, with his tie swinging from side-to-side like a metronome.

"Excuse me." He nods politely at Sarah and Chuck—as if he'd never met them—then homes in on Crocker-Reynolds, who reluctantly turns away from her quarry in order to face him down.

"Can't this wait? I'm working a business deal here—"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but it's urgent. It's about your TV station's helicopter. Couple more important questions I've gotta ask you. And then"—he grins broadly with the promise of something special—"if you'd like, I'll let you interview me some more!"

Crocker-Reynolds slumps her shoulders in resignation. "Great idea…since we've only got about 45 minutes of footage of you so far…All right then, what is it you need?"

Sarah pokes Chuck with her elbow and mouths a silent "Go!" And before Crocker-Reynolds realizes it, both Bartowskis are good and gone!

Except for another displeased roll of her eyes, the SNN editor doesn't act as if she's unduly troubled or even all that surprised by their swift stealthy departure. As soon as she manages to free herself from the pesky Mazowiecki, she darts off into the nearest secluded corner and takes out her phone.

"No…no luck…didn't get much of a chance with her. But you know, I'm starting to think that with some digging, we might find more to this story…."

A few minutes later, on their way home in Sarah's Lotus

Sarah appears to have shrugged the encounter off, but Chuck is still chagrined.

"How in the world did we let someone like her get so close?" he asks, shaking his head and looking blankly out at the ivy-covered freeway embankments zipping past.

"Simple enough, sweetie," replies Sarah. "We were thinking and acting like a normal couple visiting a friend in the hospital—instead of like spies."

"D'you think that's the last we've seen of her?"

"Probably not," Sarah suggests, and then laughs. "We'll deal with it."

"I'm kinda surprised you seem so amused by the situation, babe," Chuck notes.

"It's not really that—I'm just laughing to think that woman actually wanted to offer me Packard's job!" She elbows him. "So what d'ya think of 'Sarah in the Sky?' Kind of a nice ring to it, wouldn't you say?"

Before Chuck can come up with a suitable response, his iPhone starts chirping.

"It's our encrypted public line," he observes. "A 710 number. Bet I know who it is!" He answers the call.

"Hey, FBI. Thanks for the assist back there."

(Mazowiecki snickers. "That was on account of the 403-g directive, Bartowski, and nothing more. Though I suppose we owed you a little something for helping us find Carlton Ami. Especially since you won't be collecting any reward for it.")

"Helping you, hell. You clowns had no idea it was Ami."

("Don't matter now, pal. Case closed and we got the trophy. I'm just calling you nerds to remind you that a 403-g is a two-way street—you get immunity but you stay under the radar. So don't bother trying to make any hay out of this mission. We won't allow it.)

"Aw shucks, Mazowiecki—and here I was already updating my resumé."

("Listen—you got people working for you. The directive doesn't cover them, so we can't shield them like we can you, if anything goes bad. Keep that in mind. And I hope not to be seeing you any time soon, CIA.")

The call abruptly ends.

That night, at the Bartowskis' home

(Music: "Sweet Moment," by Bowerbirds)

In their sturdy, comfy antique brass bed, under the covers, Chuck and Sarah cuddle. Sarah's head rests on her husband's chest, gently rising and falling with his breaths. He has his arm around her. The only light in their bedroom is the glow from Chuck's iPad, propped against his upraised legs so that they can both see it; they've been watching the late news on SNN.

"The Amber Alert story's already forgotten," Sarah murmurs. "We're old news, sweetheart."

"Can't blame 'em. It's gotta be mighty awkward to have to cover the arrest of your own big-name star. Oh, and about that..." Chuck squeezes his wife affectionately. "I think I've decided I don't like 'Sarah in the Sky.'"

She lifts her head to look him in the eye and, pretending to be hurt, asks "Why not?"

"Too derivative, babe. I'm liking 'Blonde Goddess of Traffic' much, much better."

"Okay." Sarah sighs contentedly and nuzzles back down into his chest, then continues, "Chuck—I've been thinking about our road trip to Chicago. Let's not take the Lotus or the Herder. Let's rent something else altogether…maybe something sporty but more classic?"

"I like that plan," says Chuck. Sarah lifts her head up again, this time to kiss him. He repays the kiss with interest, so she gives him another. This goes on for a few more minutes…then Sarah pulls back and gazes serenely down into his eyes, while her warm hand moves south beneath the covers.

"Do you think," she asks, "that a blonde goddess might get a little lovin' from her cocoa-eyed geek god?"

"Can't say no to a goddess," he replies—and grabs her. As Sarah and Chuck begin to wriggle and wrestle and make pleasurable sounds under the blankets, their brass bed stays mute, and the iPad slides noiselessly to the carpeted floor.

(Closing credits and Chuck titles theme, by Tim Jones)

Chuck and Sarah Will Return in Episode 6.05: "Chuck Versus Route 66, Part One" — Now Published on FF dot net!

A/N: My fervent thanks—again!—to you all for following along and sharing your great comments and ideas through reviews and PMs. I love 'em! I salute you! More adventures for Chuck and Sarah and friends in Season 6 are coming—until then, Keep Calm and Don't Freak Out!

—anthropocene