Title: Underdog - Chapter 1
Author: StuckHereWithNoTV
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Going home isn't always easy.
Disclaimer: Jake 2.0 and all related elements, characters and indicia copyright Roundtable Entertainment and Viacom Productions, Inc., 2003. All Rights Reserved. All characters and situations-save those created by the authors for use solely on this website-are copyright Roundtable Entertainment and Viacom Productions, Inc.
Author's Note: I know this has kind of a silly premise, but it looked like so much fun to play with that I just couldn't help myself. Thanks to J Solt for helping me out in the past and, as always, a big thank you to all those who've read and reviewed my previous stories.
Underdog
by StuckHereWithNoTV
Jake burst through the lab doors, his hands flailing in the air. "My car. I hate my car." He threw his coat next to the laptop that Diane was focusing on. "And look--" Jake insisted, pointing at his shirt and pants that now both sported a brown coffee stain down the front, "the purpose of cup holders is to hold cups. Now can somebody please tell me why out of all the cup holders in the world, mine had to be the one slacking off on the job?! I mean why on the day when I'm stuck in bumper to bumper traffic and thirty minutes late for a meeting with Lou, does my cup of Maxwell House Crap Coffee -- which, by the way, wasn't 'good to the last drop' -- decide to come flying at me with scalding liquid that could not only burn the hairs off my chest if I had any, but also possibly prevent me from having kids in the future?!"
Jake painfully glanced down at the second location of the coffee stain while walking over to hang up his shirt on the coat rack. "Oh, and that meeting with Lou? Turned out to be a general meeting with everyone in Sat Ops. Yeah, pretty hard to act like a super spy when both female and male agents are checking out your unintentional fashion statement." He raised his head thoughtfully. "Maybe that's why Kyle always wears brown suits. You know, just in case the coffee thing ever happens. I dunno, what do you--" Jake stopped when he realized Diane hadn't said a word since he came in. Turning around, he saw she had her back to him and was still staring at the computer screen. "Diane?"
She visibly jumped and looked over her shoulder at him. "Huh?"
"Did you hear a word I just said?"
Diane blinked and then frowned quizzically looking below his torso. "What happened to your pants?"
Jake folded his arms. "What are you reading?" he asked, squinting his eyes.
She snapped the laptop shut before he could use his enhanced vision. "Nothing. Just an email."
"Diane..."
She swiveled around to fully face him. "I have to go home soon."
Jake took a seat on the examination table. "Well, yeah, we all do. It's almost 6:30."
"No," Diane sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I don't mean home. I mean home. As in Bar Harbor."
He looked at her concerned, his brow furrowing when she refused to make eye contact. "Is... Is everything okay?" Jake asked. He felt he should give her a hug or some sign of comfort, but he guessed with the presence of several lab assistants in the other room, it would've only make her feel more uneasy.
"Yeah..." she replied, dipping her head. "No."
"Who was the email from?"
Diane stood and moved toward him. "My mom," she said monotone. Taking the stethoscope out of her lab coat pocket, Diane stared at it. "I-I just never really thought about how..."
Jake swallowed, berating himself for whining about his bad day when obviously someone in Diane's family was ill or worse. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I know it's not easy."
"Yeah, really," she nodded gravely. "I mean, they draw it out for ten years--"
"Ten years?" Jake repeated, wondering if by ten years she meant something like life support or the illness itself, whatever it may be. Dozens of questions tumbled to the edge of his tongue, but Jake bit them back. All that mattered to him was supporting Diane through whatever was distressing her.
"And it's not like you can avoid it. Well, you can, but once they get a hold of you..." She pushed herself onto the table so she could sit next to him. "It'll be nice to go home, but I'm... I'm just going to miss my dad. It'll be so hard with him not being around."
"You're dad," he said, now understanding. Although, his mind was still trying to piece together what kind of disease or illness that killed her dad. Jake pulled Diane closer to give her a one-armed hug, not being able to hold back anymore. He was surprised at how relatively calm she was being about the whole situation, but Jake guessed she was still in shock or denial. "Were you close to your dad?"
Diane looked at him and then at the lack of space between them, clearly startled. "Uh yeah. Yeah, he always tried to make me laugh when I was going through something stressful. That's why I'll miss him since he's gone. I'll miss my mom, too, since she also went with him."
Jake's jaw dropped slightly. "But-but didn't you say you just got an email from your mom?"
"Yeah. She sent it to me before she and dad went away."
"Both your dad and mom are gone?" he questioned incredulously. Jake started to wonder why the death of her parents seemed to be affecting him more than her. She should have been a complete wreck. Hell, a few days ago he watched her almost fall apart when one of her mice died of old age. "Diane, it's okay. There's no reason for you to have to act strong. Don't worry, I'm... I'm here for you. If you ever need anything..."
"I'll be fine," she insisted, her eyes devoid of any tears which scared Jake more than anything. "Well, relatively fine. It'll be hard facing all those people alone, but I've decided I have to go. It's my duty."
"Of course." Jake nodded slowly. "If you need me to go with you, that'll be no problem. I'm sure I can get Lou to give me a few days off."
Diane shook her head. "You don't have to do that, Jake. Besides, I'll only be gone next weekend. I'm just going to be glad when this whole thing is over. I hate these kinds of things; they always make me nervous and then my feet hurt afterwards."
"Are you sure you're all right?" Jake pulled back, almost getting disgusted with her uncharacteristic lack of sensitivity. "Don't you think you should take more than just a couple of days off for the funeral? I mean, the death of your folks isn't something you should take lightly. How can you--"
"Funeral?!" Diane choked.
His face froze. "Yeah, isn't... isn't that what you're talking about?"
"No!" she informed bewildered. "No, no. I-I'm talking about my high school reunion."
There was a long pause as the two of them replayed the conversation in their heads.
"'Draw it out for ten years'...?" Jake quoted.
"Yeah, it's the ten year reunion."
"And so your dad didn't die of a disease that could have been avoided?"
"What?!" Diane's face scrunched up, thinking. "I meant when the reunion committee gets a hold of you, it's like something you can't avoid. Where-- How did my dad come into this?"
Jake covered his eyes. "You said you miss him since he's gone."
"Yeah, him and mom are flying to South America on a business trip. She forwarded me the reunion invitation before they left." A small smile crept onto her face. "You mean, you thought my parents were--"
He held up a hand, embarrassed. "I don't know what I was thinking. Just forget it." Jake let out an exasperated breath. "Reunion. Okay. Gotcha. So what's so bad about a high school reunion?"
"Everything," Diane scoffed. "They say the point of it is to get in touch with old friends, but really it's to show off the loads of cash and unbelievably gorgeous spouse you've been able to accumulate since your teenage years. Both of which I have neither to flaunt."
"Oh c'mon, Diane," Jake chuckled. "Don't you think you're exaggerating just a bit?"
"No, I'm serious. You still have two years before your reunion comes up, and when it does, you'll know exactly what I'm freaking out about." She slid off the table and started gesturing with her hands. "It starts out with the tacky banners and early 90s music, and then it all goes downhill. Right from trying to make your way through the crowd dancing to 'I Like Big Butts' just so you can get a glass of spiked punch, to moping at an empty table alone while the DJ plays bad Bryan Adams songs for the couples." Diane sighed in despair. "I guess, in a way, it could almost be distressing as a funeral."
"Why are you going then?"
She shrugged. "I was valedictorian. Apparently, I'm supposed to give some short little speech during the party. And since I went to a small high school... If I don't show up, people are going to notice."
Jake grinned, noticing her strangle the stethoscope worriedly. He had never given much thought about high school reunions but with Diane's dire prediction of her destiny, it wouldn't be right for him to stand around and let her go through that agony alone. "Maybe I should go with you?" he suggested. Diane opened her mouth about to object, but Jake cut her off. "Really, it'd be no trouble. I mean you went all the way to Seattle for me, the very least I could do is mope along with you while drinking spiked punch and listening to Bryan Adams. It'll be fun... sorta."
She pursed her lips and shook her head, amused. "You sure?"
"Absolutely," Jake affirmed. "I love getting jiggy to 'Big Butts.' Wouldn't miss that for the world."
Diane laughed, her glum mood fading away. "Thanks, Jake," she said whole-heartedly, her eyes meeting his. Putting on her stethoscope, she was about to place the diaphragm up to his heart when the sight of a pink blotch on his skin made her stop for a moment. "It kinda looks like a giraffe," she commented tilting her head to the side.
Jake scowled down at the souvenir his morning coffee left on his chest. After a second, he reluctantly nodded in agreement.
"Would you like another drink, sir?"
Jake looked up at the flight attendant who had stopped the refreshment cart beside him. "Uh, orange juice would be fine, thanks." Taking the clear plastic cup she handed him, Jake gulped the liquid down and glanced at Diane next to him. Wads of crumpled airline napkins littered the fold-down tray in front of her as she wrote vigorously on a clean one. Jake started chewing on the ice cubes, continuing to watch her, until Diane abruptly scribbled out all she had written and made the Mountain of Rejected Speeches one crumpled ball taller. Emptying his cup, Jake handed her his cocktail napkin. "Here," he mumbled through a mouth of ice cubes.
She pushed up the corner of her glasses and took the small white square. "Thanks," Diane murmured as she started to write again.
"Diane?" he asked, shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "Do you think maybe you could start using both sides or slow down on the whole crumpling business in general?"
"What's wrong?"
Jake looked forward a few rows and caught the flight attendant pausing to smirk at him. "It's just--" He leaned closer to Diane, lowering his voice, "It's just that we've been doing this for an hour now and I've been having to go so much, that I think the flight attendant is convinced that I have some kind of... control problem, if you know what I mean."
"Oh," Diane said, setting her pen down while biting back a smile. "Yeah, of course."
He sighed in relief. "You sure you don't have anything good in there?" he inquired, pointing at the napkin pile.
She shook her head. "It's silly. I'm only going to be up there for a minute and I can't even think of one word to say other than 'Hi, everybody.' I mean, geez what kind of sad, pathetic loser obsessively stresses out about something as simple as that?"
Jake's expression fell. "I'll try to take that as a compliment," he said dryly.
"Aw, Jake," Diane laughed, nudging his shoulder with hers, "I-I didn't mean you. I liked your best man speech; it was really good."
"Really?"
"Yeah," she assured. "Me, on the other hand... not so good."
"Mmm, yeah, I see what you mean. I only had to give my speech in front of people who were already aware of my oratory skill, while you... I suppose you have to live up to your valedictorian status, huh?"
"Yup," she agreed, grimly. "Although, it's not like people are really going to pay attention to me anyways."
"Why not?"
"Well, first of all, everybody will probably be too drunk to even listen. But more importantly, I wasn't exactly part of the really rich, popular group when I was younger."
Jake dismissed the notion with a snort. He couldn't believe she was worrying about something as trivial and juvenile as cliques. "But that was like years ago; nobody cares about that stuff after high school. And besides, people change right?"
Diane raised an eyebrow. "In Bar Harbor, unless you're talking about tourists, the tides, or housing developments... nothing changes."
Her slightly cryptic comment perked Jake's curiosity. "What were you like in high school?"
"Me?" Diane squeaked, picking up her pen. "Well, I dunno. Kinda nerdy, I guess; I mean, I was the only person who actually volunteered to join the Math Team. Timid. Study-aholic. Um, I was just..." she shrugged, "ordinary. How about you? What were you like?"
Jake noticed her fidgeting with the pen and realized to his dismay that she was about to start writing again. Waving over to the still smirking flight attendant, he turned back to Diane with a weary smile. "Shorter."
It was after nine o'clock at night before their plane reached Bangor, Maine. Picking up a rent-a-car at the airport, the two started the fifty-mile drive down to Bar Harbor. Jake, inhaling the polishing wax and car freshener scent of the vehicle, stretched out in the passenger seat and watched the dark outlines of endless trees along with the occasional house zoom by. He found it kind of relaxing not seeing the blocks of street lamps and gray cement he was used to in D.C.
They continued driving on Route 3 through the touristy districts of Salisbury Cove and Hulls Cove which, to Jake, seemed like nothing more than a big group of buildings and hotels clustered along a single main road. As the car made it's way south, he leaned forward to look past Diane who informed him that the mass of black that seemed to be moving was Frenchman Bay. Jake stared at the sheer drop from the road down to the water, silently thanking his lucky stars that Diane was at the wheel and not him.
Winding past the mountain cliff faces and the direct sight of the water, the scenery shifted to lighted store windows and B&Bs as they entered downtown Bar Harbor.
"Is this our stop?" Jake questioned, sighting a few residential-looking houses.
Diane kept her eyes on the road. "Heh, not unless your bank account is somewhere close to the size of Bill Gate's," she joked.
Carrying on with their journey, the main road that cut through downtown changed back to Route 3, while forests once again replaced shop fronts. They had traveled a few minutes south of downtown when Diane suddenly turned left onto one of the residential dirt roads that branched off the highway. Engulfed in the shade of dense pines with only the car headlights preventing them from running off the path, they emerged into a large clearing where a small, two-storied house and its bright porch light greeted them.
Diane pulled up to the driveway and cut off the engine. "Here we are," she announced, unbuckling her seat belt.
"Nice," Jake commented, peering out the window. He got out of the car and looked up at the house with its wrap around porch and large, neatly kept garden. Picking up the amplified sound of crashing waves, he estimated that they were only a few yards from the sea. Jake gazed up at the sky, amazed at the number of stars that one would only see far this from the bustle of the city. "I feel like I'm in the middle of nowhere," he grinned, turning towards Diane.
She opened the trunk and pulled out a suitcase. "My parents' house is the middle of nowhere," Diane said, grinning back at him. She started pointing at different directions. "Downtown. The bay. Jackson Laboratory--" She paused to pick up the luggage and gestured to the ground with a sideways nod of her head. "Middle of Nowhere."
Jake chuckled and followed Diane with the rest of the bags up the front steps. He waited as she unlocked the front door and flipped on the light switch. Seeing Diane motion for him to come in, he hauled the luggage inside and set it on the hardwood floor. "Wow," he instinctively muttered, scanning the entryway and living room. The first, immediate thing he noticed about the Hughes household were the plants. Although the whole interior was tidy, every single spare corner and table surface was occupied by a living and well-cared for plant. Vines, flowering broadleaves, exotic species... almost any kind of plant Jake had ever seen -- or had not seen, for that matter -- was most likely displayed in these two rooms alone. It kind of reminded him of his grandma's house... except for the fact that most of the plants in her house were either dying or made of plastic.
Diane shut the door and glanced around her. "Yeah, they're basically my siblings." Jake gave her a strange look. "I mean-- My dad is a botanist," she explained, sheepishly.
"Ah," Jake nodded, following her down the hall into the kitchen. Large panoramic windows covered the eastern wall and led Jake's eye towards a dining room and a pair of french doors leading back to the living room. He whistled, noticing the greenhouse attached to the other end of the kitchen and the patio beyond it. "You've got to be kidding... And you're telling me that you weren't part of the rich group?"
She walked over to the fridge and removed a list-sized piece of paper held up by a magnet. "We had money, but with both my parents' jobs requiring them to go on business trips, usually for very little pay... There were a few times when we hardly got by."
He moved up behind her, looking over her shoulder at the absurdly long paper. "What's that? A shopping list?"
"Feeding list," Diane corrected, looking up at him. "Precise measurements on what time of the day the plants need to be watered, pruned--"
"Taken out to play, naptime, read their bedtime story..." Jake teased.
"Yeah, pretty much." She put the list back on the fridge and leaned against the counter. "So, uh, I guess we should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow and all..."
"Yup," he agreed, leading them back out to the entryway. "So, um..." They stood facing each other awkwardly, both glancing up the stairs at the second floor. "You have a spare room up there or something?"
Diane scratched the back of her head, nervously. "Well, we did until my mom turned it into her office. And then my parents' room is in the middle of getting remodeled, so really the only room up there is my old bedroom-- Uh," she blushed, gesturing idly at him, "so, if... if you don't mind... I mean, I-I can..."
Jake swallowed, surprised at feeling his mouth go dry. Nonchalantly shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants, he smiled shyly. "Yeah?"
She looked from him to the living room. "Couch?"
His smile slipped a fraction as he turned his head to the long, overstuffed sofa. "Oh."
"I mean, I can get some pillows upstairs," she pointed upward, guiltily. "I'm sorry--"
"No, no. It's fine," Jake interrupted cheerfully, but inwardly beating himself up for being an idiot. "Couch. Couch is good."
"You sure?"
"Yeah," he stated crisply.
Diane drooped her head. "Jake, you didn't have to drag yourself over here with me--"
"Hey." He brushed her shoulder briefly. "I... I wanted to," Jake said with a shrug.
She nodded, visibly uncomfortable with the silence that had settled. Stooping to pick up her bags, Diane turned and started climbing the staircase. She stopped just outside of her bedroom door and smiled back down at him. "G'night, Jake."
"G'night," he echoed. Turning off the light switch, Jake stumbled over to the sofa which, he had to admit, was pretty comfortable. He stared up at the ceiling with a heavy sigh. "Yeah. Love the couch."