Chuck vs. His Destiny

Chapter 1: "Graduation Day"

CAST (in order of appearance)
Bryce Larkin: Matthew Bomer
Professor Miles Fleming: Scott Alan Smith
Chuck Bartowski: Zachary Levi
Jill Tanner: Jordana Brewster
Ellie Bartowski: Sarah Lancaster
Morgan Grimes: Joshua Gomez
Karen Faust/Sarah Walker: Yvonne Strahovski
Ward P.D. Elcock: himself
Arthur Graham: Tony Todd

So we all know the story of Chuck Bartowski by now. A run-of-the-mill computer genius, he was kicked out of Stanford University based on false accusations of cheating. He spent the next several years moping around Los Angeles, making a big nothing of himself until the day that Bryce Larkin e-mailed the contents of the Intersect to him.

That's when it all changed… Sarah Walker and John Casey both came into his life as he was suddenly America's number one intelligence asset. And somehow, Chuck managed to fall in love with Agent Walker… who as we all know, would have a difficult time saying she hadn't done the same.

Much has been made of the life of Chuck Bartowski based on the canon of the thirteen episodes that have aired to date. But what if things had gone just a little bit differently? What if Chuck had gotten a slightly different scholarship to Stanford?

What if Chuck hadn't been expelled? Would he have gone on to a different life? Or was his life as the human Intersect his destiny all along?

March 2003
Stanford University, Palo Alto, CA

Bryce Larkin sat in Professor Fleming's office, his hands fidgeting. "Professor, we can't let Chuck go through this," he insisted. "It'll break him. It'll turn him into something he's not."

Fleming looked at Bryce and shook his head. "Larkin, if Bartowski was so concerned about getting turned into something he's not, he wouldn't have signed up for the Air Force ROTC program when he was still in high school."

Bryce sighed. "I know, Professor Fleming, but he wants to fly F-22s, not be part of some intelligence cabal."

"Bryce," Fleming said, a steely edge to his voice, "Bartowski is going into Project Omaha. He'll be doing it as a commissioned officer of the United States Air Force."

Bryce set his jaw. "What if Chuck got kicked out?"

Fleming rolled his eyes. "How would Mr. Bartowski get kicked out?"

"If he cheated on his subliminal perception tests," Bryce blurted out, saying the first thing that came to mind.

A ghost of an amused smile appeared on Fleming's lips. "How would he do that, exactly? I don't make up the tests till the morning of."

"He doesn't know that, though," Bryce shot back, his voice beginning to sound desperate. "Give me a dummy test key… I'll hide it in his stuff, anonymously tip campus security…"

Professor Fleming looked down at his desk. Larkin was just looking out for his friend's best interests, but Bartowski was going to be needed. Iraq, Afghanistan – they needed somebody with Bartowski's abilities.

"I'm sorry, Bryce," Fleming finally said. "But it's Bartowski. He's the only one we've seen who can handle the data."

Bryce sighed and closed his eyes. This had not gone at all the way he had planned.

June 2003

Chuck Bartowski was nervous. Extraordinarily nervous.

He had good reason to be nervous. He was less than a minute from giving his address as the valedictorian of Stanford University's class of 2003.

Public speaking was something he had never been good at. Give him a computer, he could strip it down and rebuild it so that it would be better, stronger, faster in a matter of minutes. Give him a tech manual for a USAF fighter aircraft and he'd be able to quote it to you chapter, line, and verse a week later.

But put him in a public or social situation – well, if you did that, Chuck Bartowski was screwed. That was why he had been so happy to meet Jill Tanner back the second week of his freshman year.

They had been introduced by his new friend, Bryce Larkin. Jill, it turned out, was into computers, and as Chuck had put it after meeting her for the first time, "She's HOOOOTTTT!"

Three and a half years later, Chuck had gone to spend Easter with his sister, Ellie, down in Los Angeles. While he was there, he had purchased a rather expensive engagement ring.

That ring went directly back to the store when Chuck got back to Stanford and found Jill in bed with Bryce. As a result of that incident, Chuck had cut ties with both Bryce and Jill. Bryce had been kicked out of the fraternity that they were in, and told to get the hell out of the frat house.

Chuck tried to bury the incident by immersing himself in his studies. While the betrayal he felt still gnawed at his soul, the study immersion nonetheless boosted his GPA up and over the top of the class, landing him the valedictory spot in the class rankings.

"And now, please welcome the valedictorian of Stanford University's class of 2003, Charles Irving Bartowski!"

Chuck sighed and rose from his chair on the dais. Wiping his hands on his gown, he approached the lectern. He had no notes – the whole speech was memorized.

He forced a smile onto his face as he looked out at the crowd. "Good morning, my fellow Cardinal," he began, provoking a loud cheer from the assembled Stanford students.

"Students, faculty, and staff of Stanford University," Chuck continued, "it's been a long and arduous journey. Along the way, we've all met people who have changed our lives. I know I have. Some were for the better, some were most definitely not. Some of you are people whose friendship and trust I will treasure for the rest of my life. Some of you are people without whose help I never would've made it here. Some of you are people who stabbed me in the back with a rusty knife."

That comment drew an uncomfortable titter of laughter from the students. "You know who you are," Chuck said, a steel edge to his voice. "But for better or for worse, this whole thing is over, thank Christ."

A louder peal of laughter rang through the students, along with scattered applause. Chuck looked out over the crowd. He saw Bryce sitting halfway back, looking pissed. He saw Jill almost at the back of the crowd – she looked stricken.

He sighed. "I almost didn't come to Stanford," he said, forcing himself to continue the speech he had memorized the night before. "My sister's a UCLA grad, and she's doing medical school there now, and she wanted me to go there."

"It was my best friend who convinced me that this was my best choice, though," Chuck explained. "And he was the least likely person – he'd always struggled with school, and I know he was hoping I'd stay in town."

He looked out beyond the students – and there was Morgan, sitting with Ellie. She had been reluctant to drive up to Palo Alto alone with him, but he had promised to behave. Morgan caught Chuck looking at them, and gave him a thumbs up.

Chuck smiled. "In the end, though, Stanford changed my life. Many good ways, and a few bad, but all in all, I think I'm a better person for it. It's been a long road, but we've reached our destination. Thank you."

The rest of the ceremony passed by in a blur. Chuck crossed the stage, took his diploma, flipped the tassel, and it was over. He was now a college graduate, his degree in computer engineering complete. He had received his commission from the Air Force a week before, and was now, in reality, 2nd Lieutenant Charles Bartowski.

But he had two weeks until he was to report to Randolph Air Force Base near San Antonio for flight training. He had no idea what he was going to do during those two weeks – he imagined he'd be causing a fair amount of trouble with Morgan, although his old friend's suggestion that they go to the Buy More where they had both worked during high school and terrorize their old supervisor, Harry Tang, lacked appeal. He was especially puzzled by that suggestion based on the fact that Morgan still worked at the Buy More, although he was a quality control specialist who reported directly to the store manager, Big Mike Tucker.

Either way, right at the moment, his sister and Morgan were walking toward him with big smiles on their faces. They were trailed by about fifteen feet by Bryce Larkin.

"I am so proud of you!" Ellie Bartowski exclaimed as she embraced her little brother. "I just wish Dad could've been here to see this!"

"Yeah," Chuck agreed. "And I wish Mom…"

The Bartowski siblings exchanged a look. Seven years after being abandoned by their mother, it was still a sore spot in both their lives.

And into the awkward silence stepped Morgan. "Well, congrats buddy!" he said with a smile. "So, you get that U-Haul picked up yet?"

Chuck shook his head. "That will be the first thing that you and I do tomorrow morning," he replied. While Ellie stayed in a hotel room that night, Morgan would be staying at Chuck's apartment, and the two of them would be driving down to Los Angeles the following day in a U-Haul holding all of Chuck's earthly possessions. Chuck had already sold his old Chevy Corsica – "I am not keeping that thing," he had declared.

"Chuck."

The voice of Bryce Larkin broke Chuck from his reverie. "Uh, can I talk to you?"

Chuck sighed. "Yeah." He motioned with his head that they should step away from Ellie and Morgan. He turned, and Bryce followed him.

He turned back to Bryce. "What do you want?"

Bryce shook his head. "I… I need you to let it go, Chuck. I can't go the rest of my life feeling like I stabbed you in the back with a rusty knife."

Chuck smiled humorlessly at the echo of his own words. "And maybe you wouldn't if you hadn't, Bryce. But there is one thing you can do for me."

Bryce looked at Chuck, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "What's that?"

Chuck's smile got a little bigger. He placed his left hand on Bryce's shoulder, and then lifted his right hand to eye level. Ever so slowly, he extended his middle finger. "Sit on it and rotate."

That same time
Headquarters of the Canadian Security Intelligence Services
Ottawa, Ontario, Canada

Karen Faust looked like a woman on a mission – although, right at that moment, she really wasn't.

She was just pissed.

Faust had been born in Auckland, New Zealand, on Christmas Day of 1980. Her family had moved to Vancouver, British Columbia, four months later. She had grown up there, and gone to the University of Washington in Seattle – just down the road from home, but literally in another country.

She had attracted the attention of the CSIS while still in high school. They told her that if she was interested, they'd have a position for her four years later, when she graduated from college.

Karen took that as a challenge, and graduated in three years. The CSIS had been duly impressed, and took her onboard as a trainee almost immediately after graduation in May of 2002.

She had scorched through the CSIS' training program – itself an amalgamation of Britain's MI5 and SIS programs – in record time, and had been a credentialed agent by her twenty-second birthday. Since that time, she had been on one assignment – "cultural attaché" at Canada's embassy in Tehran. Her job there was simple – spy on Iran for Canada, and by extension, the United States of America.

But after five months on that assignment, with no warning, she had been recalled, ordered to report to headquarters as soon as possible. She griped and fumed, but the deputy chief of mission – himself a CSIS agent – reluctantly told her that she didn't really have a choice.

So, she figured if she was going to get screwed, she was going to make a fuss. That's why she marched into the Director's office, ready for war.

Before Director Ward Elcock could get one word out, Karen practically exploded. "Why in the BLOODY hell did you pull me out of Tehran? I have an entire NETWORK set up there that's providing more intelligence on the ayatollahs than anybody has had in YEARS!"

"And that's the point," a deep voice rumbled. Karen looked to Director Elcock's right, and saw an unfamiliar-looking tall black man.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded.

Director Elcock sighed. "Agent Faust, this is Arthur Graham. He is the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency –"

And with those words, Karen felt like the air had been sucked out of her lungs. The CIA?!

"– and he has been most impressed with your work."

Karen's eyes widened. The CIA was here about HER? Oh sweet Jesus!

"Agent Faust," Director Graham said, "we at the CIA think it would be fantastic if you would be willing to come work for us. Director Elcock has reluctantly agreed that you would be able to do far more with the CIA than you ever will with the CSIS."

Karen's jaw dropped. "Oh my God," she whispered. "I'm being recruited by the CIA?!"

Director Elcock smiled weakly. "Karen, this is one hell of an opportunity. I mean, it'll be a huge blow to the CSIS if we lose you, but it'll be better for the intelligence community as a whole."

"Well, God, of course!" Karen blurted. "Yes, I'll do it!"

Director Graham smiled faintly at Karen's lack of composure. "Very well," he rumbled. "Now, there are certain… problems… with having a Canadian intelligence officer work directly for the CIA, so… we've created a cover for you."

He picked up a manila folder from Director Elcock's desk and handed it to her. "This folder contains everything you need to know about the new you," he said. "Read over it, and then let me know if you have any questions."

Karen opened the folder. The childhood was similar enough to her own, although it showed her as having grown up in Green Bay, Wisconsin, rather than in Vancouver, and she had apparently gone to the University of Arizona for college. "Looks simple enough," she said quietly, nodding her approval. She looked back up at Graham and Elcock. "I'm in."

Graham smiled and approached Karen. She stood as he reached her and stuck out his hand. "Excellent," he said as she took his hand and shook it. "Welcome to the CIA… Agent Sarah Walker."

Author's Note: Leland Stanford, Jr. College, a.k.a. Stanford University, does not currently have an accredited ROTC program. However, the school sees approximately 20-30 ROTC students annually, all of whom must commute to UC-Berkeley, San Jose State University, or Santa Clara University to fulfill their ROTC obligation.

Stanford's ROTC program was stripped of its academic accreditation in 1969 amid a fervor of anti-war protests that swept the Bay Area, in spite of a student referendum vote that favored ROTC. The faculty senate maintains to this day that the decision was made due to academic unsuitability rather than anti-war sentiment.

For the purposes of this story, we can assume that Chuck was offered an Air Force ROTC scholarship that would allow him to go to Stanford, but would require him to make the twenty-mile commute to Santa Clara University on a thrice-weekly basis.