I hold no copyright on the owner's original works, or anything relative to the current copyright holders' material that the following story is based on. This was written for non-commercial purposes.

Preface: This story is set as a prequel to the beloved T.V. series, Chuck has not died, Olive is not working at The Pie Hole, and Emerson has not found out about Ned's power.

At this very moment, Ned "the pie maker" is 24 years, 6 weeks, 3 hours, and 9 minutes old. He is currently in the middle of a busy rush hour serving everything from Rhubarb slices to his last slice of Dutch Apple while a Lemon Meringue cools on the table in the kitchen and a Triple Berry cooks in the oven. The Pie Hole is currently without waiters, waitresses, or weights in its customers' stomachs as Ned is the only member of the staff.

Yesterday, his only waiter, Doug Dooley Douglass quit the bakery with the warm flaky crust of a roof to pursue his dreams of becoming a collector and dealer of shoe-based antiquities. Thus, leaving the pie man to a business run entirely as a sole proprietorship.

"Are we going to get our pie anytime soon?" Squawked an impatient man in a bowling league shirt. He sat at a table with five other league members. They were the "Better Bowling Bowlers" as indicated by the sunny yellow lettering on their turquoise shirts and matching bowler hats.

"Coming right up!" Ned acknowledged as he hustled back into the kitchen. When he went to grab the Lemon Meringue Ned muttered to himself, "I like pies, I finally got to open my own pie shop, and I don't want to deal with other people. Why can't they just order and leave? That would be easier."

Whisking back to drop off the pie and six pie plates, the pie man rushed over to take care of the next crisis. A woman in a neon blue coat and ruby heels was asking if he had a slice of Dutch Apple left.

She continually pestered him as he attempted to help out his other patrons. "Surely you have one more of those Dutch Apples left!"

"I most assuredly do not. If I did, I would get you one. Isn't there something else that will do?"

"You're probably just saving it for somebody else! Do you want my business or not?"

"I run a business. I like it when people buy pies. I like to make the pies. But if I do not have any of a type pie left, I would be unable to sell one. I can make one later if you want?"

"Who's the manager here? I demand to see the manager!" She reached out with her hands, her fingernails were just as ruby as her heels, and snagged Ned's arm.

Ned broke her grasp quickly looking quite uncomfortable before rather coldly responding, "Well, you're talking to him. If you don't like what I have to say now, you won't like it later, either." And with that Ned bowed out to deal with the next mess.

Back in the kitchen, the pie man washed off where the woman had touched him, partly for hygiene, and partly because of his aversion to touching people. He didn't like touching anyone, whether they were living, or they would be alive-again if he touched them and they had previously not been.

His mind flashed back to his childhood at this thought. Back when he was 9 years, 27 weeks, 13 days, and 59 minutes old. His mother had died only a few weeks ago, when she had immediately been brought back to the land of the living again by Ned's touch, only to be dead again, forever, while she planted a kiss on his forehead when tucking him in that fateful night. Ever since, Ned does not like to touch people.

When someone hands him change for a purchase, Ned positions his hand so that no skin makes contact by taking the bills in his hand first, and then having the person doling out the change put it on top of the bills. And that is only when they don't put it on the counter and insisted on reaching out to him.

Ned also mourns the loss of his first love, Charlotte "Chuck" Charles. She was very much in the land of the living, but he had lost touch with her when he was sent to boarding school. She spent most of her days living in the confines of the home of her loving, but agoraphobic aunts. She was the last person Ned had ever been close to.

His father had abandoned him at boarding school and they were well past being estranged. The only living thing in the world that cared about his well-being was Ned's dog, Digby. Unfortunately, Digby was an alive-again, and Ned could not touch him directly. Petting his faithful pet involved a stick hand that mimicked but could not pass the love for his companion across the same way a real hand could.

When The Pie hole finally closed for business after the rush and the pie maker had the place to himself, he continued to reminisce, reaching for his memories and clinging to them with all his heart in the way he could not with another person. They were warm and soft like his mother's hugs before she died. They made him feel carefree and tender just like when he had played with his childhood sweetheart. These memories were his most treasured possessions; he did not share them with anyone besides Digby. Opening himself up to others allowed for heartbreak and misery. He had had enough of that to last a lifetime.

Interrupting his thoughts, the tinkling of the bell on his pie shaped shop indicated the entrance of someone despite the "CLOSED" sign on the door facing the street.

Looking up from the mop he was currently pushing along the crumb stained floor, Ned said without thought, "We're closed."

"The door was open." Came from a very petite and shorthaired blonde woman. She was about the same size as a racing jockey.

"The sign said closed. Not as in forever or unable to ever be opened again. Just in the, 'Hey we are no longer open for business!' but still in the, 'We will be open again for business'…again. Later that is. Just not now."

"Then why was the door not locked?"

"I hadn't gotten around to it yet…?"

"Was that a question or a statement?

"Why can't it be both?"

"Did you just answer a question about whether or not what was said was a question or not?"

"Yes? Now, we are closed, and we'll be happy to help you when we're open again, tomorrow."

"Actually, I can help you."

"Huh?"

"Your sign in the window? The 'Help Wanted' one?" She held it in her hand.

"What about it?" Ned asked as he saw her holding the sign he had just put out this morning.

"I'm here to help if you want it."

"That would be…that would be nice. Do you know how to waitress?"

"Well not in the direct sense, but I am used to 'galloping about' as it were."

"If you want to start and you don't mind mopping while I finish cleaning the kitchen you're hired."

"Can do boss! Where's the rest of the gang?"

"Gang?"

"Staff, teammates, coworkers, other people who take their occupation in a joint like this?"

"There's me, and now there's you as well."

"So, when you said 'we', you meant it in the figurative sense?"

"Yes?"

"You answer questions with questions all the time?"

"No."

"Alright, I'll get to work."

Ned handed her the mop as she set the sign on the closest table. He made towards the the kitchen as the short-statured woman called out at him, "I'm Olive Snook by the way!"

"I'm Ned- *CLUNK!* (as the pie maker dropped a pie pan in the sink), nice to be working with you Olive!" He called back.

"You too!"

He smiled to himself. Maybe Ned the pie man would not be so alone from now on.

The End