Chapter 3: A Lesson in Being a Nerd
Saturday September 21, 2007
Same Damn Place
Chuck was awakened by the sound of his breakfast clattering to the floor of his cell. He groaned, and wiped the sleep from his eyes.
Sitting up on his cot, he briefly considered going back to sleep, but he knew that there would be plenty of time for sleep later. It's not like he had much else to do. His days-at least the past few days-had revolved around sleeping, eating, and talking to his mysterious neighbor. Speaking of which, he had no doubt she'd be awake now, too. She was always awake. Chuck was starting to think she was a robot that didn't require sleep. And if that was the case, it was probably best she was locked away. That would help prevent J-Day for at least a little while.
And that was a horribly nerdy thought that he would never share with her.
Chuck lazily slinked out of bed, and walked over to pick up his not-so-hot meal, of bad toast, one small grape jelly packet, an apple that had long ago seen its firmness fade, and a bottled water.
He looked at the breakfast with disgust, but knowing it was all he had, he returned to his cot to sit down, and try to enjoy it.
"Good morning, Brutus," Chuck said over his first bite of toast.
"I thought we agreed you wouldn't call me that?" she said.
"I don't recall a definitive end to the issue, but if you want to put an end to the Brutus thing, you could always just tell me your name," Chuck said.
She didn't say anything, and Chuck realized pushing her on the subject couldn't lead to anything good, so he changed the subject.
"You get anything good this morning?" he asked.
"Do we ever get anything good?" she asked.
"A fair point," he answered. "Although I guess it's better than starving to death."
"They won't starve us until they try to get information out of us," she said.
Chuck found her words unsettling. Maybe it was the glibness in her voice. The fact that he could tell she wasn't joking. And that she seemed to know more than him. But whatever it was, Chuck didn't like it. Still, he tried to laugh it off, awkward though his laugh may have been.
"That's funny," he said, though nothing in his tone held any humor. "What kind of information would they want? I mean, unless they're having computer problems, and need someone to fix it, I'm kind of useless to them. And even if that was the case, they wouldn't have to starve me. I'd gladly help."
She said nothing.
"What else could they want from me?" he continued. "I mean, do you know something they want to know? Or, do you even know who 'they' are?"
"Yeah, I know," she said cryptically. "But no, I don't think I know anything they want to know."
The conversation died then, as Chuck took his first bite of his all too soft apple. He would've spit it out, if he didn't know that it was the last thing he'd have to eat for several hours.
"I don't think we're in Washington," Chuck said, seemingly out of nowhere.
"What makes you say that?" she asked.
"Well Washington is supposedly known for their apples, and my apple is certainly nothing to write home about. You know, if they were actually letting me write home," he answered.
"Oh, you mean the state of Washington," she said. "No, you're probably right. I've never heard of any sites in Washington. And I doubt they flew us across the country. Not that they'd want to hold us in such close proximity to the capital, anyway."
"Why would they want to keep us away from the capital?"
It seemed like an odd question to ask. At least Chuck thought it sounded odd coming from his own mouth. There were so many other questions he thought he should've asked instead. Like, for instance, what kind of "sites" was she talking about? And who was holding them? And more importantly, why were they being held. Still, one question at a time couldn't hurt.
"Because of what we know. Or what they think I know, and what you know," she said.
"But I'm telling you, I don't know anything," Chuck said.
She sighed then. Chuck thought she sounded frustrated, and he was too, but he couldn't imagine the source of her frustration. Did she not believe him?
"I'm telling the truth, I don't know anything!" he said. "I'm just a Nerd Herd supervisor. Maybe one day I'll be an assistant manager, but I'm not even sure I want that job. You know what? This isn't your problem."
Another silence grew then. Apparently, his new friend had woken up on the wrong side of the bed. She didn't seem at all interested in listening to Chuck. Or at least she didn't seem to believe anything he had to say.
"If I had to guess, I'd say we're in Arizona. There's a black site there, and the proximity would be about right," she said, breaking the silence.
Chuck was glad to hear her speak again, even if he had no clue what she was talking about. Black site? Arizona? Proximity? Proximity to what? None of it made any sense.
"You know, this whole being held in a cell thing reminds me of something I did in college," he said, changing the subject. "Bryce and I—you remember I told you about Bryce?"
"Yeah," she said, "Bryce."
His ex-best friend's name sounded almost like a curse coming from her mouth. Chuck couldn't figure that out exactly, but he decided to let it slide so he could continue his story.
"So anyway, Bryce and I took this psychology class, and we were studying interrogation techniques. So half of the class became criminals, and the other half were the interrogators. I was one of the bad guys"
"Well according to our captors, some things never change," she said.
Chuck almost laughed. It would've been funny, if the truth of that statement wasn't so damn depressing.
"Yeah, so I was one of the criminals, but I wasn't the one they were looking for. Anyway, we were locked up on the hall of a dorm that was being renovated, and the interrogators wouldn't let us sleep, and they would mess with us when we were trying to eat. It was like that episode of Veronica Mars."
"What's that? A spaceship?" she asked.
"A—what?" Chuck said. "No, it's a television show. Kristen Bell?"
"Is that another show?" she asked.
"No," Chuck said. He blinked. Not that it was her fault, but this woman couldn't really be that dense, could she? "That's the actress that stars in the—you're not big on pop-culture, huh?"
"Afraid not," she said. "Television has never been a big thing in my life. In fact, the closest I've come to watching television in the past year is that little skit you were doing in your cell before you knew I was here."
"That wasn't a skit! That was The Wrath of Kahn!" Chuck blurted out.
"Never heard of it," she said.
"Star Trek?" he said, hoping it would spark something for her.
"Yeah, still never heard of it," she said. "Is Star Trek the one with the laser swords?"
Oh dear God. Chuck was pretty sure his head was about to explode. This poor woman. How could someone be so devoid of American culture? Or at least his idea of American culture, which was actually more nerd culture, but whatever.
"No," he said, closing his eyes, and pinching the bridge of his nose. "That's Star Wars. And lightsabers. But don't worry. I'll educate you before we leave."
"I appreciate the offer," she said, "but that's really not necessary. Just continue your story."
"Oh," Chuck said. "Well, there's not really much more to tell. Bryce tricked the interrogators into believing a false story, and they let us go, so we won."
"Yeah, I can believe that," she said, almost under her breath.
"What's that now?" Chuck asked. That was odd. Why would she have such strong opinions about Bryce?
"No, I mean, from what you told me about Bryce, he seems like the type to lie and manipulate, I guess," she said.
"Oh, you have no idea," he said.
"So you promised to tell me the story of how you came to hate this Bryce," she said.
"Well, I guess. But my sister told me I should really stop talking about things that happened in the past. She said women don't really want to hear about all the things that have gone wrong in my life."
"Well, I have to be honest here, Chuck, it's not like you can scare me away. I have nowhere to go. Literally," she said.
"Huh," Chuck said. "Well I guess that's true. Anyway, here's the story. Bryce and I were roommates at Stanford. We were best friends, and we did everything together. We joined the same fraternity; we had all the same friends. We were inseparable."
"And you just grew apart?" she asked.
"Not exactly," he said. "Fall of our senior year, he framed me for cheating. He told my professor that I'd stolen an answer key to an exam, and I got kicked out of school."
"And you didn't steal the exam?" she asked.
"Of course not!" Chuck said, offended. "I never cheated on anything. Ever."
"Then why did he say you did?" she asked.
"I don't know," Chuck said wistfully. "I still don't know why he did that. Just like I don't know why he stole my girlfriend, Jill, after I got expelled."
"Oh, ouch," she said.
"Yeah, pretty much," Chuck said. "That was really what broke me. One minute, I have this great future, and a great girlfriend, and a best friend that I thought would do anything for me—"
"And the next, he stabs you in the back and destroys your life?" she asked.
"More or less," Chuck said, shrugging.
"Yeah, I know the feeling," she said.
There was another lull in the conversation, the first one in while. Somehow, the silences were growing more comfortable for Chuck.
"So still no name, huh?" he asked, because the silences were growing more comfortable, but they weren't there yet.
He heard her heave a deep sigh, and completely expected another rejection. Somehow he even took comfort in that. In a world where he knew nothing, the one thing that was certain was the woman he spent his days talking to would remain a mystery. Except, as it turned out, not even that was completely true.
He heard her whisper something, and he could almost make it out.
"I'm sorry, what?" he asked.
"My name is Sarah," she said a little louder.
"Huh," Chuck said, "I think I think I'll stick with Brutus."
"But I have a question," she said, ignoring Chuck's ribbing.
"Sure, Sarah" Chuck said, trying her name on for size. He was pretty sure he liked it, despite his previous joke. "To paraphrase you, it's not as if I can go anywhere."
"Right," she said, and she paused. "So, if you hate Bryce so much—"
"Yeah?" Chuck asked.
"Why were you working with him to steal the Intersect?"
Disclaimer: Still don't own Chuck, any of the characters, or any of the pop-culture refrences I managed to crowbar in.
A/N: Sorry this was a few hours late, but my internet was out last night. Also, the internet being out prevented me from sending it to someone for a final read-through, so I'm sure there are a few errors that I failed to catch before publishing. I'll go back and correct them as I find them.
Also, because the internet was out, I was unable to join anyone who participated in the Fringe Rewatch chat at Castle Inanity last night. I'm really sorry about that, too, but I'll be back next Monday, barring something unforeseen. Now, to make up for my absence last night, and the lateness of this chapter, here's a preview of the next chapter:
Chuck was led down the dimly lit (but still better lit than his cell) hallway, and it was then that he couldn't shut up anymore.
"So where are we going?" he asked.
There was no answer.
"Because, here's the thing. I don't want to be a nuisance, or anything, and if you just tell me where we're going, I'm sure I could—"
Chuck's words were cut off, as he felt something hard, heavy collide with the back of his head. Then he saw only black.
So that's all for now, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. You guys are awesome. Peace.