Title: Underdog - Chapter 3

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.

"Ugh, dammit," Jake muttered, stretching his chin upwards. He tried one more time to maneuver the long necktie in the right sequence to achieve the perfect knot, but ended up making the same sloppy tangle of red silk. Jake groaned, leaving the snarled disaster of a tie hanging around his neck and started to shrug on a dark blue jacket. He stood alone in the living room, attempting to brush off the fuzz that congregated on the eighty-five dollar fabric while allowing his mind to drift away.

Jake had to admit that he had quite a lot of fun hanging out with Diane the whole day. After their walk by the waterfront, she decided that with the several hours they had before the reunion, she ought to show him the rest of the nearby area and a little bit of the other places on the island. They roamed all of downtown; Diane regaling him with the interesting things to do in Bar Harbor -- or rather, lack thereof -- as they passed through the cheerful "ye ole" motif of Main Street complete with brightly painted shop signs hanging over the doors. Popping into one of the small, family-owned restaurants, she treated him to the tourist's obligatory whole Maine lobster for lunch. But after an almost freak accident involving Jake, the patron dining at the next table, and a lobster claw turned projectile, they both decided some hiking would be a more peaceful way of spending the whole afternoon.

Diane drove them back down past her parents' house and into Acadia National Park. Transferring onto the historic Park Loop Road, they continued further south until finally reaching Gorham Mountain which Diane claimed had the best view of the coast.

They ascended up the forest and granite lined trail, stopping at the False Summit of the rugged 525 foot peak. As Jake stood on the sheer precipice that jutted over an endless ocean of spruce treetops, he relished in the fantasy that he didn't have a care in the world; that no amount of threats to national security or mad hackers on the loose had the power to pull him away from just enjoying the vista of Otter Cliff and the bay. Breathing deeply from the thin atmosphere and the pure exhilaration of the view, Jake had looked over at Diane with a goofy smile to see if she was feeling the same sense of freedom.

However, despite the pleasant expression that plastered itself on Diane's face, he could tell that her mind was yet again concentrated on something other than the picturesque scenery around them. He had confronted her right then and there on what was bothering her, but all he received in return was the same non-committal assurance of "it's nothing" and an abrupt change of subject.

Jake sighed, pulling himself back to the present, his guess on what could really be going on as unclear as the mist that had settled around the mountain when they had begun their descent. He reached for the ends of his tie, attempting to undo the mess he had done, when he heard the click of high heels on wood echoing in his ears.

"Are you ready?"

Jake pivoted towards the sound of Diane's voice and found her waiting in the entryway. She was putting on earrings, unaware of how he was appreciatively observing her thin-strapped dress and the way her hair was pinned up, both exposing the graceful contour of her neck and bare shoulders. Jake chuckled inwardly at his meandering curiosity of how many little black dresses she owned... and then nearly choked when his curiosity started to straggle away from clothes and into less innocent territory. "Yeah," he answered, annoyed at his colorful imagination.

"So..." She jerkily splayed her arms out to the side and let them drop back down. "Do I look okay?"

Jake soaked in the sight of the black cloth subtly hugging each definitive curve. The gentle, refined lines of her arms contrasted with her hands that twisted the straps of her purse nervously. He circled from the similar smooth lines of her legs up to her delicate face, tinged a light red as she witnessed Jake finishing his perusal. "You look amazing," he said quietly, the unmistakable sincerity in his tone reverberating throughout the room.

Diane ducked her head, the muscles in her neck twitching as she swallowed, bashful. "You need any help with that?" She glanced up out of the corner of her eye pointedly.

Jake nodded, tugging at the knot in his tie. Craning his neck, he let Diane come up to him and take ownership of the red fabric. "I hate these things. It's like if I have to wear one for work, I would need to get up fifteen minutes earlier just to mentally prepare." Jake lowered his chin when Diane snickered. "I'm not kidding. I mean, I can tie it, but... not that well."

She turned up his shirt collar briefly and slid the necktie in place. "Yeah, I noticed."

"Thanks," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Well, it's not that big of a deal," Diane insisted. "My dad is the same way. I actually gave him a clip-on tie for his birthday last year. My mom was thrilled."

Jake scowled, following the deft movements of her hands. "I'm not that inept, Diane."

"I know." She smiled, forming a neat, tight knot and wiggling it up to the nape of his neck. "Besides, I think it's your ID badge that needs the help."

"Huh?"

Diane made eye contact as she smoothed his necktie in place. "You sometimes get your ID caught on an object whenever you lean over to look at something," she said. Pressing the wrinkles in his tie with her thumbs, the back of her hands gently stroked against the thin fabric of his shirt. "And sometimes in the lab when you're putting on your shirt, you don't realize that you're getting the chain stuck between a button and then you end up going through the whole day like that. I mean, I thought you would've gotten a clue by now, but you still keep getting it tangled on stuff." Diane laughed, obviously replaying some memory in her head. "Like that one time when you got the tag clip caught on your sleeve and it took you five minutes to get it off..."

A brief silence settled before he tipped his head to the side, surprised. "You notice all of that?"

"Yeah... Why?" she asked, her brow furrowing as she continued to absently slide her fingertips against the silky material.

Jake wasn't sure what point he was trying to make, but he had the feeling that it was something worth remembering. "Uh, n-nothing," he stuttered.

Diane's fingers stilled, her gaze dropping away. "We should probably get going," she stated, releasing his tie.

The night breeze whipped through the passenger window disheveling the strands of hair hanging over Jake's forehead. Once again, thick pine tree woods were all that could be seen as they coasted east towards the only high school on the island.

However, unlike most of the weekend, his foreign surroundings didn't capture his attention. Jake gazed at the winding stretch of road ahead of them, realizing that with each mile they gained, the closer they were to having to go back to D.C... Back to the NSA where every action and word was watched, recorded, and documented... Back to pretending that what he felt for his doctor was the same professional friendship he had convinced himself of having for the past several months.

Jake squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that it wasn't worth dwelling on what ifs and if onlys. It was one thing to say that they could find a way of fighting the unassailable system, that the chemistry between them -- Jake swallowed hard at what that chemistry could also be called -- could conquer as many rules, regulations, and Warners that could be thrown at it; that a typical, storybook happy ending could still happen if they could just work hard enough towards it. But that's all that line of thought really was. Fiction.

Real life just didn't work like that. The bad guys didn't always get what they deserve; the good guy didn't always get the girl. He wasn't naive anymore. He knew that some things, as much as you wished otherwise, just weren't meant to be; his years of worshiping Sarah only to find an illusion taught him that.

He looked over at Diane contemplatively. Despite all his knowledge of statistics that had been a part of his computer science schooling at Georgetown, he couldn't help but hold on to a small grain of hope. It was by pure chance that his arm happened to get nicked by flying pieces of nanite-infected glass. Pure chance that he happened to sneak into the lab to download files on the project just when Diane was on her way down. Pure chance that she happened to notice the quickly healed cut on his arm, causing her to reexamine the security tapes of the shooting incident. Pure chance that...

Jake flashed back to the night he stood in his apartment knowing that his dream of becoming an agent was practically going down the drain and that Diane had come over of her own accord even though they had only known each other for a few weeks. And despite her attempts to convince him not to give up, at the end of the day, he could tell that she shared the same thoughts on how, maybe, it just wasn't meant to be. But by pure chance, Tiranzi happened to target the NSA building that same week, allowing Jake to prove himself at the last possible minute.

So maybe, just maybe, pure chance would again find a way to do the improbable. But in the meantime...

Jake set his "real life" musings aside and contentedly slipped back into the no-worries, almost domestic fantasy this whole trip seemed to easily provide. "Are you cold?" he asked, catching sight of Diane's arm shaking. "I can roll up the window if you want."

"No, that's okay."

He frowned. "Are you sure, because I can see you shivering."

"No, no, it's not that. It's--" Diane took a hand off the wheel and waved it around a bit. "I'm nervous, is all."

"You mean about your speech?"

"About my speech, about the people, about other things... Basically about everything."

"Is that why you've been--"

"Out if it?" she supplied, going up a pitch. "Yup, pretty much."

"Oh." Jake drummed his fingers on the armrest, not knowing how to make the situation better. "Well, there's really nothing to worry about, right? And actually, I should be the one freaking out. You know, all those football players you probably went out with... or baseball players, or marching band players, or-- you know, I think even the chess players were able to kick my ass back then," he joked, pretending to reminisce.

"Yeah, those chess players are pretty buff," Diane said, playing along.

"So, is there...?"

"Is there what?"

"Is there some six foot five, angry, old boyfriend who's going to tell me to go out in the parking lot because I'm 'messing with his girl'?" Jake teased.

The sheepish laugh that came from Diane's mouth seemed to turn brittle in the frigid Maine air. "Heh, yeah right." She turned the car onto another road, passing a large, oval-shaped, granite slab that read Mount Desert Island High School.

Generic trophy cabinets and drab gray lockers flanked the hallway that led to the foyer of the gym. Walking down the freshly waxed floors that squeaked with each step, Jake observed the banners of school pride and "Go Trojans!" signs that were enough to bring anyone back to their days of youth.

Jake browsed the plaques and pictures that were hung with care behind glass cases as Diane went off to sign in at the alumni table.

He twisted around when someone tapped his shoulder. "Okay, let's go in," Diane said, preoccupied with trying to pin a name tag to one of the straps of her dress.

"Ha whoa!" he half choked, half laughed. Grabbing the tag out of her hands, he goggled at what he assumed was her senior year picture laminated next to her name. "Guess you were still reeling from the 80s, huh?" he said, guilelessly pointing out the ghastly large rimmed glasses and the larger-than-life, curly mass of hair.

Diane glared, ripping the tag from his hands. "I thought you were supposed to be here for moral support?" she reminded through clenched teeth.

"Right, right," he said, putting his hands up to call a truce. Letting her lead him towards the gym doors, Jake whispered in her ear, "Hey... do you think you have an extra print of that at your parents' house?"

She stopped abruptly, almost making him trip over his own feet. "Jake, I'm a very resourceful and persistent doctor who actually enjoys doing long hours of research, so just remember..." Diane smiled pleasantly, patting his chest. "Payback can be a real bitch."

His grin faded as he solemnly lowered his head. The idea of having his yearbook picture fall into the wrong hands -- and in this case, Diane's -- was a serious threat indeed.

Jake stood beside the refreshment table, surveying the group of a couple hundred people that had graduated with Diane. Most seemed like they were pretty well off financially, or at least based on the few conversations Jake had randomly tuned in on. And although Diane appeared to be on good terms with everyone, he could see that these people weren't really the Scientific American fanatics that she would probably talk to.

With the large fluorescent lights dimmed down to create whatever mood the green and white "Welcome Back!" banners and balloons were trying to create, Jake blindly picked up a plastic cup of fruit punch. Bringing it to his lips, his face contorted as the beverage ran down his throat.

"I thought you said this punch would be spiked," Jake mumbled to Diane, disgusted at the bland liquid that tasted like anything but fruity. "I was kind of hoping that the alcohol would make the music seem less painful."

Diane winced in agreement as she looked over at the DJ who was blasting "I'm Too Sexy" through the speakers and intercom system. "Try this," she said, picking up a bottle and offering it to Jake.

He noted the Bar Harbor Brewing Company label with skepticism but took a small swig of the dark colored microbrew. Jake nodded, regarding the bottle of Cadillac Mountain Stout with approval. "Mmm, this is really good. Aren't you going to have some?"

She shook her head, miming a steering wheel. "It's all right, I'll just suffer through the music. Plus, I don't think it'd be a pretty sight if I went to the podium blitzed out of my mind," Diane confessed. Taking out a pen from her purse and a handful of napkins from the table, she gestured to the quieter side of the gym. "I think I'm just gonna, you know..."

Jake smirked at the fact that she still hadn't written her speech yet. "I'll meet you over there in a sec."

Diane suggestively glanced back and forth from the various locally made beers to Jake. "Don't knock yourself out too much," she cautioned, walking away.

He made a face and then proceeded to sample a little of another microbrew. Satisfied with its taste, Jake pivoted on his heel, immediately confronting the sight of Diane talking to someone in the far corner of the gym. He squinted, the nanites charging up and agitating the blood vessels in his optic nerves. Blinking the image into clarity, Jake spied a man about his own height with dark hair and an amused expression draped over a tan complexion.

Jake shifted his head, willing the nanites to surge into his eardrums. He sifted among the jumbled throng of blabber occurring throughout the room and zeroed in on the one conversation that interested him.

"...didn't think you'd fly all the way from Dallas just for this," Jake heard Diane say.

The man in front of her struck his chest, feigning to be wounded by her comment. "What? Miss a chance to see you again? Never."

"Brad..." she warned.

Jake's lip twitched as he watched this "Brad" guy put a hand on Diane's shoulder.

"I know things didn't end well--"

"Yeah, that's one way of putting it," she scoffed.

"But we were both young then. Things change. I've changed," Brad reassured, starting to run his hand up and down her arm. "You look real good, by the way."

At this point, Jake was about to make his way over there to "politely interrupt," but froze when a small smile lit up Diane's face. Oh please, Jake sneered to himself.

After Diane and Brad went through a cute, awkward pause in their conversation -- which, to Jake, was as cute as getting a root canal -- Diane shook her head, clearing the past that had resurfaced in her mind. "That was a very long time ago," she pointed out.

"I know, I know, but... I've been thinking a lot about you lately."

The boyish grin that Brad flashed next was enough to make Jake queasy. Diane's reluctant sigh in response didn't seem to help his stomach either.

"So what do you say about us skipping this whole reunion thing and head over to the old Shore Path?" Brad continued to prod, sensing her loss of resolve. "Finally take you on that walk I never got around to doing? Catch up on what's been going on with the both of us?"

Diane glanced towards Jake's direction, causing him to spin around and pretend to be engaged with the assortment of refreshments. "No," Jake heard her answer automatically. "No, I'm here with someone."

"Really?" Brad blurted out, caught off guard. "Well, can't you tell him you met up with one of your old friends who already knows how to show you a good time?"

Jake's brows raised when Diane's voice suddenly grew deadly. "I can't believe you have the guts to bring that up."

"I-I didn't mean to," Brad pulled back, realizing his mistake. "Look, I know I messed things up back then, but that's one of the reasons I came here. You still mean a lot to me, and I just wanted to see if there was still... something there."

"There's nothing there," Diane gulped, her tone starting to waver, "and you haven't changed. So... so just leave me alone okay?"

"Diane, wait--"

Losing her patience, she stepped away from his grasp. "Brad, these heels are killing me. So unless you want both of them shoved somewhere that will cause you much more pain than what my feet are going through right now, I suggest that you don't say another word to me."

Jake decided that this was probably a good time to step in, but by the time he fought his way through the crowd, Diane was standing alone and Brad was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey," he said, making Diane gasp in surprise. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," she answered tapping her pen against the stack of napkins she clutched. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be fine?"

Jake's mouth tightened into a thin line when he spotted the moisture that glistened in the corners of her eyes as she searched for anything to focus on other than him. "I have no idea," Jake muttered, taking a sip of the beer he was holding. "So, uh, who was that?"

Her head shot up. "Who was who?"

"That guy," he inquired.

"What guy?"

"That Brad guy."

"Oh. Well, he's just-- Brad? How did..." Diane's jaw dropped when it dawned on her. "You... you were listening weren't you! I can't believe you would-- Jake!"

"Hey, wha--" He was cut off as she made a hasty beeline to a nearby empty table. Baffled, Jake followed and collapsed in the chair next to her. "What did I do?! I didn't do anything!"

"Yes, you did!" Diane accused, jabbing the pen in the air at him for emphasis. "You listened to a private conversation that you had absolutely no right to eavesdrop on whatsoever!"

Jake squirmed under the death glare she was shooting at him. "All right, maybe I did. But it's not like I could have not eavesdropped." When her expression didn't change, he grudgingly admitted, "Okay, okay, I could have not eavesdropped, but the point is that when you're listening to someone threatening to shove stuff up into another person... it's kind of hard to ignore."

She leaned back in her chair, groaning, "You listened to the whole thing?"

"No..." he said, trying to put it gently, "I'm pretty sure I missed the first few words that had been said, like, 'Hi' and 'How are you'..." He watched Diane dejectedly bury her head in her hands. "Well, so what if I heard the whole thing? And by the way, if you ask me, that guy sounds like he's a complete jerk."

"But that's just it, Jake. I didn't ask you." She rubbed her temples. "And Brad isn't always a jerk."

Jake had started off feeling guilty about the situation, but Diane's last comment sent his temper skyrocketing. "What, are you blind?! Of course he is! 'You look real good, by the way,'" he mimicked, complete with sarcastic bravado. "Oh yeah, really pulled out the big guns with that, buddy."

Her jaw muscles tightened, annoyance oozing out of her voice. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"No, Diane, you don't know what you're talking about," he backlashed, pointing his index finger at her. "Is that what's really been going on in your mind these two days? This Brad guy? Is that why we did that whole Shore Path thing, because Buckaroo Brad there forgot to keep a promise to his ex-girlfriend? What, were you guys supposed to go do that mountain thing, too?"

She clenched her fists, almost snapping the pen in half. "No, we weren't, and for your information, the only thing that's been on my mind these two days is you," Diane spat vehemently. Taking a deep breath, she ducked her head, pain flashing across her face at the realization of what she had just said. "Let's forget this ever happened,"she whispered, preoccupying herself with scratching ink marks on a napkin.

Jake just sat there dumbfounded at the turn of events. Regretting his rash behavior, he leaned forward. "Listen, I--"

Diane held up a hand, stopping him. "Don't Jake, please," she said, surrendering. "I'm just going to concentrate on writing my speech so we can get out of this place and go back home to D.C., okay?"

He bowed his head, feeling the same defeat she did. With a ragged sigh, Jake reclined back in the cold, metal, fold-out chair. Despite the loud and cheerful party around him, he earnestly stared up at the exposed maze of ventilation pipes in the ceiling, oblivious to everything except Diane's faint scribbling.