This story is a collaboration between me and DanaPAH, though most of the writing is actually mine. I guess, technically Dana's my beta since she mostly looks it over as I write and corrects my grammar and such. But I consider her to be more coauthor than beta, as I'll occasionally pass the story on to her when I get writer's block. She'll write a paragraph or so, then give it back to me, and usually what she writes will inspire me.

The chapters are pretty short, though as I write I find they do seem to get longer. I'd say I'm about 10 chapters into the story. I haven't really divided all of them up yet so I can't be too sure.

Chuck and Fulcrum's Cause

Part I

May 25th, 2003

11:00 AM

Chuck Bartowski stood behind the Nerd Herd desk, feeling sick to his stomach. He couldn't believe that he was working here again, but after the debacle that was the end of his senior year of college at Stanford, he really had no other place to go. Even though it had been three months since he'd been kicked out of school, the pain and humiliation were still fresh in his mind

Bryce had betrayed him. And he had absolutely no idea why.

He had brought it on himself. That is what Bryce had said and it just didn't make any sense. What on earth could he possibly have done to make Bryce hate him so much that he would frame him for stealing tests and selling them, ultimately ruining his prospects for good and meaningful employment in the future?

Not for the first or even thousandth time, Chuck wracked his brain for anything, big or small, that he might have said or done to turn his friend against him. And not for the first or even thousandth time, he came up completely empty. He'd done nothing but be a good friend and he had thought that Bryce had been the same to him.

He was devastated. His sister was devastated. Morgan was... sort of devastated. And, as he was supposed to be the Nerd Herder that actually went somewhere and made a name for himself and put the Burbank Buy More on the map, even Big Mike and the entire Buy More team seemed devastated. Though he never felt that he could truly trust anyone again, at least not completely, he knew deep down that in order to get through this, he had to hold on tightly to the support and friendships he had. Nobody that truly mattered believed that he had cheated. That is one thing – one positive – that he decided to cling to.

As he watched his first customer of his new so-called career approached him, looking angry, he had to wonder how tightly he could cling before he lost his grip.

Tamping down the queasy, unsettled feeling that seemed to have decided to take residence in his gut, he put on his best fake smile and greeted the customer with fake good cheer that just did not reach his eyes. This was going to be a long day, and there was no Morgan here to make it tolerable, either.

8:30 PM

Many agonizing hours later, the Buy More had closed and all of the employees had gone home, but Chuck remained. He sat on the curb in front of the store and stared across the nearly empty parking lot, toward the area's main road. The head and tail lights and the distant whooshing sound of the various passing cars vaguely mesmerized him, surprisingly soothing to his mind and soul. He found himself without direction to his thoughts, which was a small relief, as his mind always seemed to work on overtime most days. And a lot lately, those thoughts were negative, depressing ones that would likely make him go mad one day if they continued for much longer.

After some time, the air around him had cooled to a slightly uncomfortable temperature and being jacket-less, Chuck realized that he could not stay sitting here like this forever. He would have to go home and because he knew his sister had the day off, he would certainly have to face her questions and deal with that barely hidden look of disappointment her eyes took on anytime she looked at him lately.

She'd want to make his first day back at Buy More into a positive thing. After three months of hiding mostly in his room, moping, only playing video games, she was happy that he was contributing – finally and somewhat – to society again. It wasn't Roark Industries, but it was something.

When the time came, Ellie said, he could petition Stanford or another university to finish his degree, and fulfill his potential. He let her believe that he believed that to be possible, but he just wasn't so sure. So, he just went along with her optimism, knowing that he had scared her, more than once, in those three terrible months following Stanford.

One night, he had silently padded through the apartment hall on his way to grab a snack from the kitchen, when he had heard her talking to Devon. She had sounded so worried and tearful and scared, even more so than she had been when their father disappeared on them. And when she confessed her concern that he might try to harm himself in some way, it had shocked and devastated him. He didn't sleep for hours afterward, as Ellie's thoughts and fears became his own that night.

The next day, she had given him an ultimatum. Either find a job or find himself homeless.

It was one of the hardest thing he'd ever heard from her and it was the hardest thing Ellie had ever had to say to him, but it worked, the conversation he'd heard between her and Devon already having swayed him. His choice was clear and that very day he called Big Mike at the Buy More and asked him to turn his part-time summer job into a full-time one.

And that was how he became a Buy More employee of the permanent sort. Probably a lifer now, too, just like Jeff, Lester, and Morgan. Though working with his friend Morgan might make the entire experience slightly less unbearable, he wasn't sure how much he could really stand of Jeff and Lester.

Chuck rose up from the curb and brushed off the seat of his pants, about to start walking home when a voice behind him startled him.

"Excuse me," the male voice said and Chuck spun around, just barely repressing a girlish scream. "Sorry to've scared you, but are you Charles Bartowski?"

The shorter, overweight man now standing in front of him reminded Chuck right off the bat of one of those weasel-y mob types from the movies who would betray his own mother for the right price. The cigar the man was smoking did nothing to dispel that first impression. Despite knowing it was unfair to base a person's potential character on their looks, Chuck immediately became wary and tense, the fight or flight instinct taking over.

"Yes," Chuck drawled cautiously, looking at him with unconcealed suspicion, nearly taking a slow, small step back before checking himself. "I'm Charles Bartowski. And you are...?"

"Bernie," the man said and took a drag of his cigar. He eyed Chuck in a speculative manner, as if judging his worth as a human being, making Chuck's discomfort worsen. Then, suddenly, Bernie's mouth turned into a jovial grin as he shot out his hand for Chuck to shake. Startled by the sudden movement, he jumped slightly, but a lifetime worth of good manners instilled in him by his sister had him automatically holding out his own hand to accept the handshake. "Name's Bernie. I'm an old friend of Jill's."

"You know Jill?" Chuck asked in surprise, unsure of how to react to that. Jill's disbelief of his innocence had hurt almost as much as, if not more, than Bryce's betrayal. And then she had slept with Bryce, which, of course, increased the impact of the betrayal by at least a hundred fold.

"Sure do," Bernie confirmed with a nod "I've known Jill since she was a baby and have always had a soft spot for the girl. She's told me a lot of good things about you, Chuck, and I have to admit, I was very impressed."

"Not to be rude... Bernie," Chuck interrupted, still not feeling entirely at ease with the man, though the feeling of imminent danger had passed. "But Jill and I broke up months ago and after everything, we didn't exactly part as friends. So, tell me, exactly... what are you here for? I have nothing belonging to Jill that needs to be returned to her. I'm not stalking her in any way, so you can't be here to warn me to stay away from her. And if she sent you here to apologize for her or whatever, then she really should have come herself."

"Listen, Chuck," Bernie said patiently, taking another drag of his cigar, Chuck's increasingly petulant dialogue seeming to not phase him in the least. "Jill told me all about what happened and while she is sorry for the pain it caused, she didn't send me. She doesn't even know I was planning to come here."

"Is that right?" Chuck said skeptically, but he was intrigued by why this man, this friend of Jill's – who still reminded him of a low level mobster – would want to talk to him without her knowledge. He wasn't sure he really wanted to know the answer, but that didn't stop him from asking the question. "Okay, so I'll bite. What do you want from me?"

"Charles Bartowski," he began, then paused to stick the cigar into his mouth and speak around it. "I have a proposition for you."