Okay, quick note before we begin: I wrote this story baout a month before Chuck's real dad showed up in the series so I had no idea he was a really great guy O.o Seriously, I remember seeing Scott Bakula for the first time and going "of course...of course Chuck's dad is the coolest, most awesome dad in the world...dammit!" And that's exactly how that conversation in my head went lol. But anyway, I digress :P This is one of my darker fics so I hope you guys like it! :D
I own nothing! Except Marcus and I really don't want him...any takers?
Chuck squeezed the bridge of hi nose between his thumb and index finger, trying desperately to ward off the headache that was becoming more and more apparent with each passing second. He sighed heavily into the sleeve of his shirt, propping himself on one elbow on top of the desk and adjusting the phone so it sat more comfortably against his shoulder.
"No sir, I'm not sighing at you." He lied to the increasingly irritated voice on the other end of the line. For the past hour, the same man had called every five minutes about some new problem he was facing with his laptop and Chuck was stuck taking the blunt force of his frustration. All attempts to send a Nerd Herd member to the man's house to fix the problem had been shot down, the man insisting he could do it himself even though it was painfully obvious he was completely technologically inept.
"Well, I just don't see why I have to download the installation software in order to use some of these programs." The man snapped irritably, the sound of an installation CD being slammed onto a table top rattling through the phone.
"It's just standard procedure sir." Chuck explained in the most helpful voice he could manage. Seriously, how stupid could this guy be?
There was a discontent little chirp over the receiver and the man returned to the call with a vengeance. "Well now its saying the CD is wrong! What kind of second-rate junk do you sell at that store anyway?"
"Sir, the disk is double-sided. Flip it over and let the computer read it again."
The man mumbled something rather nasty under his breath and went back to fumbling with the CD. Chuck listened with less than half-interest, his eyes wandering across the store blankly. They came to a stop at the bright green shirt stretched across Casey's broad shoulders. The older man had his back to him, his hands gesturing vaguely as he explained the difference between two different video cameras to a young couple holding hands. Chuck smiled faintly to himself, remembering the first night he'd stayed at the agent's apartment. He had been relatively certain for a while that Casey hated him but that night had completely changed his perspective of the other man. However, Chuck knew better than to ever bring up Casey's softer side knowing full well the agent could beat him to death with his own spinal cord if the occasion ever presented itself.
Sensing he was being watched, Casey glanced over his shoulder, his dark eyes locking it Chuck's. He flashed him the faintest hint of a smile and turned back the couple, knowing the look had done its job.
Almost immediately, Chuck felt his face heat up in a blush and he looked down quickly, wondering why exactly that simple smile had caused him to react that way. One look was all it had taken but for some reason Chuck felt his stomach fill with hyperactive butterflies that refused to settle down. The satisfied chime of a complete installation echoing over the phone managed to drag him back to reality.
"Well, it worked. Thanks." The man muttered grudgingly before he hung up. Chuck let out a slow breath and once again set down the receiver, knowing he would very well pick up again soon. He glanced back over in Casey direction but saw that the other man had already disappeared somewhere in the store.
"Hey buddy!" A cheerful voice greeted from behind him just as Morgan slid onto the counter. "Still dealing with the customer from Hell?"
"So help me, the next time I get stuck on phone duty I'm going to hang myself with the cord." Chuck groaned, covering his face with his hands and dragging his fingers through his curly, dark hair. "Every step, every screen saver is like Apocalypse to this guy." He shook his head and looked at Morgan incredulously as his best friend tried to stifle a snicker. "I swear if he-" He never got a chance to finish as the phone rang yet again.
Morgan's poorly controlled composure crumbled as Chuck glared murderously at the offending piece of technology. Plastering on a smile as fake as his enthusiasm, Chuck snatched the phone off the cradle and pressed it to his ear, already aware of who the caller was. "Nerd Herd, you break it we take it." He rolled his eyes as the all too familiar voice began to snap and snarl on the other line. "No sir, that was not a joke at your expense."
Morgan flashed him a thumbs up and slid off the counter, walking over to help and attractive female customer who was browsing through the stereo section.
Chuck sighed and shifted his weight onto one hip, folding a piece of scrap paper into a football absently. "Well sir, are you sure your printer is properly connected to your laptop?" He listened for a minute and shook his head. "Sir, we've gone through this before: I can't see the cables that are connected to your laptop through the phone. I need you to describe them to me." There was another pause and Chuck resisted the urge to bite through his bottom lip. "Yes sir, I realize they're both grey, but the thinner cable is the one you need to use to hook up your printer." The football bounced across the desktop and tumbled into an empty coffee cup propped next to the trashcan. Without much enthusiasm, Chuck raised his arms above his head to signal the goal. "No sir, I never said I thought you were an idiot…Okay, so the printer is connected? Good."
There was a series of curses so loud the computer tech had to hold the phone away from his ear. After a second, he pulled it back down an tried to get a word in as far as advice.
"Okay, sir? Sir! That message simply means your ink cartridge is low; you just need a replacement." He clenched a loose fist as his hip in irritation and let it go. "Sir, I understand that you're holding the cartridge but the laws of physics and distance prevent me from being able to see what kind of cartridge it is. You have to tell me."
"Well, what am I supposed to tell you?" The man snapped angrily. "The number? The color? I'm holding it right here!" There was a soft click followed by a heavy silence on the other end of the line.
"Sir?" Chuck sighed heavily and covered his eyes with his free hand. "Sir, for the last time I can't see the cartridge. I can't see you!"
"Oh, but I can see you." A deep male voice rasped over the line.
Chuck felt an icy chill shoot through his body in recognition of the voice and his hand slowly fell away from his eyes. The world seemed to fall into slow motion and he unconsciously gripped the phone tighter. "Who is this…?" He demanded nervously though he already knew exactly who it was.
"Oh, I'm hurt." The man mocked, a humorless chuckle vibrating through the receiver. "Pretending you don't know who I am? Now that's almost insulting." The voice laughed again, a chilling, forced sound. "Is that anyway to talk to someone you haven't seen in, oh I don't know, sixteen years?" The accusation was sharp and angry and it took every ounce of self control Chuck possessed to keep himself from jumping at the sheer acidity that seemed to leak through the phone.
"W-Why did you call me…?" He asked hesitantly, slinking back away from the counter and using it as a very ineffective barrier between he and the caller.
"Just decided to stop by and see how you were." The man answered innocently, the cold smile radiating through his words. "Is there any crime in that?"
Chuck laughed nervously, his throat dry. "With you, yeah. In some states its even considered a felony." Something even more terrifying tugged at the back of Chuck's mind and he felt his palms begin to sweat. "Where are you…?"
"Ahh, now that's a good question." The man laughed once in a sharp, clipped tone. "Maybe I'm at the apartment you and your sister share, or maybe I'm down the street having a chat with your pretty little girlfriend." There was a pause so heavy Chuck had to catch his breath. "Or maybe, just maybe, I'm standing inside the Buy More, staring at you as we speak."
Chuck's breath hitched in his throat and he stiffened instantly, gripping the phone so tightly he could hear the plastic creaking against the pressure.
"I'll give you a hint." The caller offered, the helpfulness in his voice so fake it was nearly transparent. "You misspelled the word 'plasma.'"
The young man's eyes widened and he immediately snapped his attention to the home theater section. It had been a stupid joke on Lester's part to add and rearrange the letters in 'plasma' to read 'please-ma' on one of the large display signs and see how many people mentioned it by the end of the month. However, that single misspelled word only succeeded in doubling the dread that Chuck had been gathering in his stomach.
Standing in the middle of the aisle with a cold, malicious smirk plastered across his face, was the man on the phone. Everything about the man was grey, from his suit to his graying dark hair, even to his slate colored eyes that were currently hidden behind a pair of black sunglasses. Even though Chuck couldn't see his eyes, he knew the man had just winked at him.
Almost instantly, a series of memories flashed through his mind, blinding him temporarily. However, these were nothing like the normal flashes he experienced. These memories were splattered with blood and echoed with screams of pain and anguish that would haunt him until the day he died.
The man in grey smirked again, acknowledging the fact that the younger man had indeed seen him. With laugh that was anything but humorous, the man gave a small wave and turned on his heel to leave. "See you soon, Chuck." He promised before he hung up and disappeared into the crowd.
For a long time, the only thing Chuck could do was stand and stare blankly at the spot where the man had been. He felt the phone tumble numbly from his fingers and clatter to the desk. He was vaguely aware that someone was calling his name but he didn't have the attention or the willpower to respond. It wasn't until a hand clamped down on his shoulder that Chuck whipped around fast enough to lose his balance and stumble back against the desk.
"Hey buddy, Big Mike wanted to know if-" Morgan stopped mid-sentence, his eyebrows raising in concern. "Chuck, man, are you okay? Dude, you look like you've just seen a ghost…"
Chuck opened his mouth to say something but the words froze in his throat. His hands were trembling at his sides and a cold, sick feeling gnawed ravenously at the pit of his stomach making him feel like he was about to pass out. He knows where I am…He knows where I am…The thought swirled around in his head like a whirlwind, panic and long-forgotten memories threatening to overwhelm him right there.
Morgan frowned and moved forward a little, placing a comforting hand on his best friend's shoulder. "Chuck? Talk to me buddy, what's going on?"
Chuck looked at his best friend, desperately wanting to answer him but completely unable to. Instead, he shook his head weakly, thick bile clinging to the back of his throat. "Morgan…I-I'm sorry…" He stammered, pushing past the shorter employee in a haste.
He moved out from behind the desk, ignoring the constantly ringing phone, and walked quickly to the back of the store. He glanced over his shoulder as he passed the home theater section, expecting to see the man again at any second. Morgan rushed along behind him, calling his name and asking what was wrong but Chuck didn't answer. As much as he wanted to, he just couldn't tell Morgan who had been in the store; hell, he wasn't even sure he could tell Casey or Sarah about the man in grey. Another wave of panic surged through him and he squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the painful memories that continued to assault him.
Chuck pushed open the doors to the employee restroom and stumbled inside, gripping the sink with both hands to keep himself from collapsing. Morgan appeared seconds later, slightly out of breath with a mixture of confusion and concern painted across his face.
"Chuck, what's wrong?" He asked for about the 25th time in about two minutes. He hung by the door frame, watching his best friend carefully, and trying to catch his breath. It was hard to keep up when Chuck decided to speed walk.
"I think I'm going to be sick…" Chuck moaned into his sleeve, hiding his face and leaning over the sink to steady himself.
Morgan's eyes widened and he nodded in acknowledgement. "Alright, man." He said, patting his friend on the back gently. "You stay here, I'm going to go get you some water, okay?" He didn't wait for an answer as he turned out of the restroom and headed down the hall to the water cooler. He filled a cup with cold water and stood quickly, turning and running face first into John Casey.
The water splashed all over the green Buy More shirt and soaked to the skin almost instantly. Casey growled low in his throat, one fist clenching into a tight ball at his side, but Morgan ignored him. Normally, he would have been terrified of the older man but right now he had more important things on his mind.
"Sorry Casey," Morgan apologized absently, refilling the cup and turning back in the direction of the restroom. "You can growl and snarl at me all you want later but Chuck's sick and I don't really have time for it right now." Morgan expected some kind of condescending remark but was somewhat surprised to see something that looked remarkably like concern flash across the older employee's eyes.
"What do you mean he's sick?" Casey demanded, his eyes locked onto Morgan's.
"I-I don't know, man." Morgan stuttered nervously, moving the water cup from one hand to the other. "One minute he was on the phone and the next he's pale as a sheet and looks like he's going to be sick all over the customer service desk."
"Where is he?"
Morgan wasn't entirely sure why Casey was suddenly showing such interest in his best friend but he knew better than to stall any longer. Taking the lead, he walked back down the hall to the restroom and pushed the door open to find his best friend still clinging to the sink like a lifeline.
Casey pushed past Morgan and crouched so he was eye level with Chuck. "Chuck, what happened?" He demanded, glancing over to Morgan and lowering his voice to a whisper. "Did you flash on something?"
"He was here…He was here…" The words came out as a whisper and Casey reacted quickly as Chuck lost his balance and collapsed to his knees on the floor.
"Easy kiddo." The agent soothed, cradling the younger man close so he wouldn't fall completely. He could feel Chuck's body trembling violently against him and realized with a sickening feeling that the kid was dangerously close to going into shock.
"Oh God…Oh God…" Morgan stammered from behind them, gripping the door frame tightly. "I can't lose my best friend…Is he going to die? Should I call an ambulance? Should I call Ellie? I think I know CPR if he-"
"Morgan!" Casey snapped, effectively shutting up the rambling employee. "Chuck is going to be fine. Go tell Big Mike that I'm taking him home, alright?"
Morgan nodded shakily and turned to leave, glancing back over his shoulder worriedly before he disappeared into the hall again.
Satisfied that they were alone, Casey locked the door and turned back to Chuck. "Okay, Chuck, who did you see? Was is another agent? A spy?"
Chuck shook his head weakly and wrapped his arms around his torso, leaning forward a little more so his forehead was resting against Casey's shoulder. "I saw him…"
"Who? Saw who?" Upon still receiving no answer, Casey growled in frustration and took the younger man's face in his hands, forcing him to look at him. "Look kid, I'm here to protect you and I want to help but that's nearly impossible for me to do if you don't tell me what's going on." His thumb brushed across Chuck's cheekbone gently and he looked at him with pleading eyes. "Now who was here?"
Chuck looked up slowly with a look in his tear-filled, haunted eyes that shook the older agent to his very core. In a voice that was barely above a whisper came the words, "My father…"
Hope you guys liked it! :D