CHUCK VERSUS ROUTE 66—PART TWO (Chuck 6-06)

Concluding the sixth episode of an imaginary sixth season of Chuck. The second half of the season starts here and now...so buckle up!

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, but it's sticking with me for a while.

EPILOGUE

Wednesday afternoon, Guantánamo Bay U. S. Naval Base, Cuba

(Music: "City of Sin," by Linus Young)

The CIA helicopter lifts off from the Leeward Point naval airstrip for a brief flight east, across the mouth of Guantánamo Bay and along the rugged south coast to the ominous, highly secure Federal Detention Camp—established in 2002 for foreign terrorism suspects and special guests of the various U. S. intelligence agencies, near the eastern boundary of the chunk of territory leased from Cuba since the Treaty of 1903.

His passenger has never visited Gitmo before, so the chopper pilot gives her a quick tour, swooping over the chain-link outdoor cage-like cells of the abandoned Camp X-Ray, the orderly parallel metal roofs and tent canopies of Camps Delta and Echo—where the jaded prisoners don't even bother to look up at them—and the red-roofed, heavily fortified, quadrangular Intelligence Operations Facility. About a quarter-mile farther back in the dense tropical forest is a cluster of eight unfenced cottages—plain-looking structures but luxurious lodgings by Gitmo standards. The helicopter points in that direction and begins to descend.

"Coming up on Penny Lane, ma'am," announces the pilot.

He sets the aircraft down gently in a clearing about a hundred yards in front of the cottages and kills the engine. Penny Lane seems deserted; no guards are in sight, although there are security cameras in abundance.

A Marine guard on board the helicopter quickly jumps out to help the raven-haired passenger in black-hole sunglasses and camo BDUs descend from the cabin. He starts to follow her as she makes for the cottages, but she waves him off.

"Ma'am, excuse me?" the guard asks with some incredulity. "Didn't you want an escort into the compound?"

"Thank you but no, Corporal," replies Juanita Saldana. "This inmate will give me no trouble. Kindly wait here and I will be returning in about seven minutes with the man in question."

As she continues into the unfenced low-security encampment, Saldana inhales deeply, savoring the warm, moist tropical air and the faint sea breeze. She consults her iPad for the location of the cottage that holds the sole remaining prisoner in Penny Lane.

Shortly thereafter, Saldana finds her mark: an unkempt young man immersed in a strange kind of squalor, sprawled and snoring on a weatherbeaten couch in a spartan living room. Nothing hangs on the walls except for a couple of security cameras, which are presently trained on the young man snoozing with a pencil clutched in one hand, half-buried under a great mound of paperback Sudoku books. Hundreds more Sudoku books are strewn about the living room and hallways, mingling with dozens of empty soda cans and endless cheese-stained, jalapeño-pocked red-and-white paper platters that must have previously held nachos.

This young man's curly black hair runs wild all around his head, and he has a shaggy beard to match. Saldana wrinkles her nose: the sweet sea breezes outside have not penetrated this room very well.

Saldana slips off her sunglasses and taps her iPad screen. Both of the cameras on the wall go dormant. She reaches one black-booted foot out and nudges the sleeping man's knee. He jolts awake at the minimal touch, gasps, and cowers on the couch. With a blend of fear and curiosity in his eyes, he sizes up his visitor: an attractive woman with a confident, almost bored expression—and dressed in full military garb.

"Who're you?" he asks.

Saldana does not reply at first, but instead bends down to pick up one of the Sudoku books. She leafs through the pages of puzzles, noting that they're all completely filled out—and all of them done correctly.

"You must enjoy Sudoku a great deal," she observes matter-of-factly.

"That's all they let me have!" he fires back. His voice has a tinge of desperation in it. "Only paper and pencil. No TV…no radio…and they haven't let me anywhere near a computer in…I…I don't remember how long it's been!"

Saldana smiles and shakes her head sympathetically. "Is that so? Such a waste, no? I think perhaps it is time we changed that."

The messy young man sits up in a hurry.

"Really? You'll get me a TV? Or did you mean—a computer?"

"A computer, yes…and potentially much more than that…Manoosh."

His eyes brighten at her suggestion—and hearing her address him by his name.

"Who are you?" he asks again.

"I will tell you that if and when you need to know," retorts Saldana. "Your case files indicate that you have some skill in the art of reverse engineering complex digital devices. Is this accurate?"

Manoosh jumps up from the couch, revealing that he's in a rumpled sweatsuit labeled OFFICIAL PROPERTY OF GITMO. He clutches his hands together in supplication, eyeing Saldana as if she were some kind of angel in martial dress. She reacts by taking a step backward—not out of fear, but simply to avoid any chance of physical contact with him.

"Yes! Yes! Let me show you!" begs Manoosh. "Whatever you need! Just…a computer…oh please!"

"I am an engineer myself," Saldana goes on, brusquely. "I require a skilled assistant for a very special project. Among its other benefits, the work would provide you with an opportunity to fully repay your debt to your country."

She glances around the room and sneers at Manoosh's nerdy messes.

"The position requires immediate relocation stateside. I trust that will not be an issue."

"Yes…no…please, ma'am…please!"

"Are you ready to leave now?"

"Yes!" Manoosh half-cries, half-shrieks. "Of course I am! Yes! Please!"

"Bueno," Saldana says. "A helicopter awaits us."

She turns and heads for the door, and Manoosh follows her like an imprinted puppy. In the doorway, the CIA agent turns and cocks her head.

"It would seem you need no further incentive—but consider this," she says, tantalizingly. "If you work diligently for me, not only will you be serving your country…you will also be getting back at the specific individuals who betrayed you. Who caused you to be sent to this terrible place. How would you like that?"

Manoosh's eyes roll up in ecstasy. "This is the best day of my life," he mutters.

"And we will keep the lights on here for them," Saldana promises, smiling smugly.

Wednesday, near dusk, on Chicago's Near North Side

The warm spring evening is perfect for Chuck and Sarah to walk a few blocks from their suite at the Hotel Indigo to the Woodcomb family townhouse on East Division Street. Along the way, they stop at a streetside market to pick up some flowers, fresh-baked cookies, and a couple of bottles of wine. Right on time at seven, they're standing at the front stoop of the attractive two-story rose-brick home.

(Music: "A Question and an Answer," by Tim Jones)

Chuck has the bunch of flowers in his left hand and the shopping bag of goodies in his right, so Sarah steps up and reaches for the doorbell. Unexpectedly, she stops just short of pressing the button and withdraws her hand. She seems to be surprised by something.

"Wow…" she says, barely above a whisper, while staring at the front door.

Chuck sets the shopping bag down and puts his hand on her shoulder.

"Something wrong, babe?"

"Nothing…I just…umm, just flashed back to all those times we used to go to Ellie and Awesome's, for dinner or coffee or whatever. We'd be standing at their door—just like this, just like a normal couple except that—"

"Except that we were a fake couple?" Chuck teases her, his brown eyes twinkling.

"Hahh!" Sarah snorts, and swats him playfully on the butt. "A cover couple is what I was about to say. It was never fake—and we both knew that, from the start."

"Yeah, we did," murmurs Chuck. "Ellie and Awesome knew it too, even with all their head-scratching trying to suss the two of us out. Before they got caught up in the spy world too."

Sarah nods. Her expression grows more pensive.

"Chuck?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm remembering how much I wanted us to be out of the spy world. All of us out. The way it was before Quinn."

Chuck slips his free arm around Sarah's waist and pulls her close to him. He looks into her face, questioningly.

"Is that how you feel now?"

"More than ever. Just as soon as we're done with this Intersect business. Deal?"

Chuck sighs. "Deal, babe. Deal."

"I love y—" Sarah begins to say—but she's cut off as Chuck's lips press against hers. Her arm swoops around his neck and they kiss, full-out—until the front door opens!

Mary Bartowski stands in the doorway with Clara in her arms.

"Let's not get all the neighbors talking," she chuckles. "You two had better come in."

(As they enter, music begins: "Hurry Back Tonight," by Lydia)

A little while later

Chuck and Casey sit casually on the waist-high brick wall of the second-floor outdoor patio, clinking and emptying frosty bottles of Dynamo Copper Lager, and watching Captain Awesome as he dances around his smoky charcoal grill—skillfully cooking up a mighty flotilla of rib-eye steaks for their dinner.

"Where's the wheatgrass?" kids Casey, as he lights a cigar and pivots to send a puff of blue-grey smoke out over the back alley beneath them.

Devon laughs. "That can wait 'til breakfast, John. What we've got goin' here is special-occasion grub!"

"Indeed!" cheers Chuck as he hoists his beer. "Here's to two-and-a-half fine days of probing and prodding by my own dear sister. May she never ask for more data!"

"I'll drink to that," replies Devon, who raises his own bottle in salute as Casey leans over and clinks bottles with Chuck once more.

"So what's next for you two?" Devon asks after a moment.

"Flying back to L.A. tomorrow…just in time to re-pack for a trip to Germany!"

"Germany, huh?"

"Yeah…an overdue cybersecurity inspection for a La Plata casino property over there."

"Hehnhh," grunts Casey. "You can take in a Jeffster! show while you're at it. Assuming they're not in Polizei custody by now."

"Funny you should say that…."

(Music continues: "Hurry Back Tonight," by Lydia)

Inside the house, in the kitchen, Sarah chops carrots and celery with her characteristic swift precision, while Mary has Clara up on an adjacent counter to admire a vase full of the colorful spring flowers her uncle and aunt brought to the party. Meanwhile, Ellie gives in to curiosity and starts rustling around in the shopping bag. She hauls out a bottle of red wine and holds it up to read the label—then bursts out in sputtering laughter.

"You've gotta be kidding me! Las Alturas pinot noir again?"

"I find it...a most intriguing varietal," replies Sarah—convincingly mimicking Professor Fleming's hearty voice.

"H'yeah," sneers Ellie. "Still, it was actually kind of delicious…so, good choice."

But then, she puts the bottle down on the counter and turns to give her sister-in-law a surprisingly plaintive look.

"Speaking of Fleming…Sarah, you do realize there's at least a teeny little chance he could be right about…you…you know?"

"Well I'm not worried," Sarah replies with abundant confidence.

"That's good. But be assured—if ever any kind of post-traumatic effects appear down the road, I will make absolutely sure you're treated for 'em…even if we have to break cover."

"Thank you, Ellie," says Sarah with a sweet smile. "I know I can always count on you. But Chuck reminded me that we also know someone else who could help. There's this psychiatrist who treated Chuck when the Intersect was causing him trouble..."

Sarah pauses and shakes her head. "I can't tell you his name."

Ellie smiles back at her. "That's okay. I'm just glad you have plenty of options." She turns back to root in a nearby kitchen drawer for a corkscrew, then opens the bottle.

Mary gently lowers Clara back to the floor, and the little girl runs off to her room for something to play with, as her grandma collects three wine glasses.

"Let's get this party started," says Ellie as she pours the wine for all the ladies. Just as she hands Mary and Sarah each a full glass, her iPhone, lying atop the counter, chimes with an incoming text message.

"Geez!" she exclaims as she picks up the phone and glares at the screen. "Oh! Well finally—it's the lab! The results of your blood panel are in at last, Sarah. I'm sure everything's going to turn up normal..."

Ellie goes online to access her secure hospital intranet inbox, and starts reading through the PDF with the test results—then, about halfway through, she emits a clearly audible gasp!—nods—and goes a wee bit pale. Calmly, deliberately, she puts the phone down.

"What is it?" asks Mary.

"Not good, sounds like," suggests Sarah, warily.

"Mom," Ellie says, glancing at Mary, "would you please keep an eye on Clara for a few minutes?" Then she turns back to Sarah and gently takes the wine glass out of her sister-in-law's hand.

"Go get your husband," she orders. "Hurry!"

Thirty seconds later, Sarah and Chuck are sitting together, nervously holding hands, on the edge of the queen bed in Ellie and Devon's bedroom. The bedroom door is closed and only Ellie is with them. She stands there looking worried—then excited—then worried again….

"I had them run tests," she explains, "for anything and everything I could possibly think of…though in the back of my head, I…um…had an idea of what might've been up with Sarah in the MRI lab."

"And…?" Chuck asks.

"But it's so early—they were barely able to confirm it."

"Early?" Sarah asks—and grips her husband's hand a heck of a lot tighter.

"Yeah…and what d'ya mean by 'confirm'?" Chuck adds. "What is it, Sis?"

Ellie laughs timidly, shakes her head—and her eyes suddenly get moist.

"Oh, Chuck…Sarah…don't know how you're gonna take this…Sarah, you're pregnant!"

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

Next: Chuck, Sarah, Morgan, and Alex have new adventures across the Pond, in Episode 6.07, "Chuck Versus Das Boot"!