Author's Note: Okay, so I don't know if anybody has really tackled this bit of backstory before, but I figured I might give it a try. It's been a while since I've seen "Chuck vs. The Alma Mater" so who knows if I've even got basic canon facts straight. I'm going to be honest and state from the very beginning that I'm not very sure where I'm going with this, I mean I have some ideas floating around my head, but nothing concrete. So if that kind of uncertainty bothers you, you might want to skip this. Also, this story will have a very non-linear structure to it, which means it will probably be kind of confusing. Sorry. I just thought it'd be neat to screw with time.
Chuck wasn't sure why he was here. He knew why, but at the same time, he didn't. He knew there was another way. He knew that what he was planning could only be classified as an overreaction. He knew nobody would ever understand. And he was terrified to even face the possibility.
He stared at it, at the chair. It was like a dentist's chair, faux leather and firm. It was in the reclined position and Chuck brought his right hand up to his face and drummed his fingers against his chin. It was quite possibly the most banal thing he'd ever seen and it terrified the shit out of him. It was sinister, it was impersonal, and it was everything that he had tried so hard to avoid in life. Yet it was only a chair.
"I don't want to do this." Chuck threw the words out there, let them settle around him like falling snow, and then shook them away. They were meaningless words, empty words. It didn't matter that he didn't want to do this, it only mattered that he had to do it.
"I'm not particularly fond of the idea either."
Chuck jumped. He didn't care that it made him look skittish, he was skittish. He spun around on his heel and glared at the graying man behind him. "You should know better than to sneak up on people."
The old man shrugged his shoulders, completely indifferent. "I was hoping if I scared you away, you'd stop this insanity."
Chuck sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. "I only wish running away was enough. We both know it'd only delay the inevitable."
The old man nodded his head only once and walked back to his still swiveling chair. He sat back down and stared at the computer monitor in front of him. His dark and calloused hands settled on the keyboard and began to type.
Chuck let himself become swept away by the rhythmic sounding tap-tap-tap of the keys. He had no idea how it had gotten so bad. Everywhere he turned, another problem cropped up. Casey couldn't be trusted. Sarah was more a stranger now than she'd ever been. The government hunted him. His family was in danger because of him. What was he supposed to do? He wasn't cut out for this life. He didn't know how to make plans, how to be devious and secretive, how to even just fight back. He didn't want this. He spun back around to face the chair.
He figured it was time. If he waited any longer he'd wait forever. Chuck took a tentative step forward and closed his eyes. The room was chilled, but that wasn't why he shivered. He brushed his face again. He took another step forward. He just hoped Sarah would understand why; he needed her to understand even if he'd never know about it. He would have hoped Ellie would understand as well but how could she? How could she know her kid brother was a government asset, that every day of his life was more lie than truth? She'd never even get to properly grieve. That saddened him more than anything. Everything would be gone, and she'd never know why.
Chuck heaved himself into the chair. He settled onto it carefully, tentatively, like he was dipping himself into a bath of too hot water. He had to grow accustomed to it before he could immerse himself in it. It was cool and biting. He sighed and tried to relax; that was impossible. He rubbed his hands along the armrests, testing the fabric, savoring the tactile sensation. He'd probably never experience something like this again. He finally rested his head against the headrest of the chair and morbidly felt like he had just settled himself into his own coffin. He chuckled and shook his head. He was getting ridiculous. He'd never been one for self-pity; he could hear Casey, could imagine his grunt, both parts disgust and exasperation, and hearing a "Stop freaking out like a hysterical girl" or maybe if Casey was being generous he'd get a "Sack up, Bartowski." He stopped his wandering thoughts and waited for some sign that he should stop this.
None came. "Okay." It was all he said, but it meant so much.
The old man swiveled in his chair. "I guess you're ready." It was not really a question, and Chuck didn't respond.
The old man got out of his chair. He pressed a button on the keyboard. He walked over to an austere metal cart and pulled from atop it an electrical bouquet, wires of every type and color. The old man walked toward Chuck, the wires trailing behind him like a jellyfish. He stopped to Chuck's left. "I feel obligated to urge you not to go through with this at least one more time."
Chuck thought the old man sounded almost apologetic. Chuck didn't want his sympathy, it only made this harder. Any hesitation was a risk; it'd taken him far too long just to convince Linus to go through with the procedure. He couldn't have the old man backing out now. "I appreciate the sentiment, Linus, but I'd rather get it over with."
"I just can't believe you actually want to do this."
Chuck snorted and turned his head to his left to stare at the old man. "I don't want to do it, but what other option do I have?" They both knew he had other options, and they both knew those other options were safer, more reasonable, and far less permanent.
It was all choreographed: a perfect routine and an inevitable end. "You could – you could let them take you. It's got to be better than this."
"I was never one for defiance to the end. Sometimes it's better just to go quietly than live in a cage." Chuck shut his eyes at the bitterness in his voice.
"Agent Walker sounded rather confident."
"Sarah has her own problems to deal with." Again bitterness, and again he cursed himself. "It's out of her hands now anyway." It was about time Chuck took control of his own destiny.
The old man loomed over Chuck, his eyes spiderwebbed red and rheumy. There was a concern in his eyes that warmed Chuck. "I wish there was more I could do, some other way I could help."
Chuck reached out and placed a slightly trembling hand on the older man's forearm. "If you did, you'd die." Chuck gave the man's arm a weak squeeze. "Sometimes, Linus, life just sucks."
"Maybe if I hadn't been so preoccupied with what I could do instead of what I should do, this never would have happened."
"And maybe if I'd never met Bryce, none of this would have happened and everything would be different. It's all nonsense, Linus. Who cares?"
The old man sighed and Chuck turned his head back to stare at the ceiling. It was gray, like everything else around him. It was gray and dirty. "Last chance."
Chuck's whole body locked. He couldn't move, he couldn't speak, he could barely even breathe. This was it, his final chance to regret the whole thing and move on. He could forget. He could go to Sarah and she would solve everything. Sarah always took care of him. Then he remembered. Sarah was one of them now; Sarah had more important things to deal with than holding his hand through life. "I'm ready."
"Don't move." The words were whispered and raspy. From the corner of his eye, Chuck watched the old man squirt a clear conductive gel onto the end of an extended q-tip.
"I feel like I should be calling you Frankenstein." The q-tip made contact with Chuck's forehead and he was surprised at the cool feeling.
The old man laughed from deep inside his stomach, the q-tip moving erratically. "It's Fron-ken-steen, not Frankenstein."
Chuck laughed along with the old man's chuckle. It felt good to laugh, made this easier. Chuck hadn't laughed in a while. "I do hope you do a better job than he did."
"Hey, that totally wasn't his fault. Igor screwed up."
"Everyone always blames the sidekick."
"Sad thing is, your brain is the thing that's abnormal. It's a shame I can't just go to some brain depository and get you a nice normal, boring one.
"Thanks a lot, doc. That makes me feel a hell of a lot better." Chuck made a sour face at the old man.
The old man chuckled again, but his laughter faded away into an uncomfortable silence as he slipped back into the detached scientist. This wasn't an occasion for triviality and laughter anyway. The old man resumed work with his gel and the two became quiet. Chuck thought mainly about Ellie. She, more than anyone, would take it the hardest. He was a coward and a bastard. She had done everything for him: raised him, housed him, fed him, and how did he repay her? With more pain than he could ever imagine. His one consolation was that Ellie was the strongest person he knew and would survive. He wished he could be there for the wedding.
"You can still back out." The old man stopped his hand, and then added as if his continued hesitation needed further justification, "You're sweating."
Chuck couldn't help but reach up and loosen a button on his Buy More white shirt. It suddenly felt restrictive and warm. "If only I could." He was wistful and it was a happy feeling. To only imagine he could, that was nearly enough.
The old man sighed and grumbled under his breath. Chuck didn't understand his words, but he understood his tone. "I appreciate your concern, Linus. You have no idea how much."
The old man grunted and started up his work again. "Tell me again the plan for," he hitched his voice just slightly, "after."
"I made a recording; it's on your desk. Just watch it afterward, it explains everything."
"How do you know you can trust him?"
"He's the one that got me out of the holding facility. He feels guilty and he thinks he owes me." Chuck paused and then said the next part reluctantly, "And because he said he would, and I believe him."
"You're a much better person than I am."
Chuck snorted and considered rolling his eyes. "So people tell me." He had always considered being a good person was a virtue, but there had been plenty of evidence to the contrary the last few months to forever dissuade him of that idea. "Trust me, being nice is vastly overrated."
The old man grunted. The first electrode was pressed into place. "There is no coming back from this."
Chuck swallowed and blinked, his eyes a little watery. He gritted his teeth and sucked in a breath at the unexpected pain at the old man's actions. He was using a lean wooden stick to press the electrode especially close to the skin. Chuck's scalp was very sensitive. "Once this is over, they'll never have a reason to come after me."
"They don't need a reason. Believe me." Another electrode was forced into place.
Chuck couldn't comment, as he knew Linus was completely right. Which kind of made what he was doing pointless, but he had to at least try. "What are you going to do?" Chuck sucked in another sharp breath. "I mean, after?"
"Take you advice and disappear. Probably destroy all my data."
"All of it?"
"It's the only way to make sure nothing like this happens again."
The old man pressed extra hard with his stick and Chuck lifted his hand to swipe the man's hand away. "Come on, doc, I'm not one of your dummies, go easy on me."
The old man slapped Chuck's hand hard and Chuck pulled it away with a frown. "I said don't move."
"I feel like a piece of cheese." Chuck muttered under his breath and rubbed his injured hand against his thigh.
"Hey, I'm willing to stop if you don't like it."
"No, no, keep going."
The old man continued his work. "You know, this probably won't work."
"Stop trying to talk me out of it, Linus."
"I'm not trying to talk you out of anything; I'm just saying it might not work. It is experimental after all."
Chuck's eyes widened in surprise and lifted his head to gape at the old man. Where was his confidence? He had been assured that the procedure was a sure thing. "What the hell do you mean it might not work? You told me it would work!" This was not good, it was unacceptable. Chuck tried to calm himself; he didn't want to get overly agitated, but he had focused so long on going through with this procedure that the idea that it might not work was unfathomable.
The old man grabbed Chuck's face with a strong hand and guided it back into place. "No, I told you that I was confident it would work, but you're my first victim – I mean patient."
"Oh ha-ha, Linus."
The old man grinned and clucked his tongue. "Relax, everything's going to be okay."
Chuck made himself sit still. He made himself calm. "When it's done, then I'll relax."
"When it's done, you won't have to."
Chuck closed his eyes and let his mind drift. He focused on the whooshing of the cooling system responsible for keeping Linus's mainframe in peak condition. When Chuck had first seen the cobbled together workstation, all thrumming hard drives, monitors, and horsepower, he'd been impressed on a purely professional level. The more time he had spent learning how the system worked, it had turned into every computer geek's wet dream. For Chuck, it became even more: a way out. With the press of a button, everything would be erased, gone; there'd be no more need for bodyguards, clandestine missions, and lies. It would all be gone.
"I'm finished."
"I guess I'm ready."
"Do you want to – I don't know, do you want to leave any messages?"
Chuck wanted to shake his head, but it was too stiff, held in place by the tangled weave of wires sprouting out of his skull. "Already taken care of. Already been delivered."
"He take care of that too?"
"Yeah. He's taken care of a lot of things."
The old man stilled all his movement and moved to the foot of the chair. Chuck watched him cross his arms in front of his chest and cast a disapproving look. "He's your contingency plan, isn't he?"
Chuck swallowed, his throat parched. His tongue stuck to his cheek. "He promised that too."
The old man stared at him for a very long time, his face unreadable. "I'll stick around and make sure too."
"What? Linus, that's not necessary. You should get out of town as soon as it's over."
"Nah, kid, I owe you that much." He sliced his hand through the air. "No arguments."
Chuck sighed. It was all he could do. He then chuckled. It was typical. He had gone out of his way to take control of his own life, and by doing so, he was losing it completely. He couldn't even talk Linus out of being stupid.
"I guess we should get this show on the road."
Chuck raised his hand and held it out into the air. The old man grasped it in a firm grip. "It's been a pleasure."
"Likewise."
The old man perfunctorily spun on the ball of his feet and marched over to his workstation. He sat down and concentrated on his keyboard. Linus assumed what Chuck called his professional voice: dry, emotionless, to the point. "Right now, the system is powering up. In about a minute, I will upload the TR spike and it should execute about a second later. You'll feel a sharp pinch along the base of your skull, don't worry, this is normal. If all goes to plan, you shouldn't feel anything else for a very long time."
Chuck shut his eyes. He began to breathe in and out as evenly as he could. He tried at least. His breaths were coming in ragged and leaving like a gunshot. He was on the brink of hyperventilation, but he couldn't make himself calm down. He didn't want to make himself calm down. This was it. He was really going through with it. No more Ellie, no more Morgan, no more Captain Awesome. No more Intersect, no more Casey, no more running for his life when even the least suspicious person looked his way funny. No more Sarah. He was tired of it all, and he didn't have anymore fight left in him.
The pinch came upon him suddenly. His breath drained into a rasping gasp, his heart constricted, he strained forward in the chair, as if leaping toward some kind of false salvation, then collapsed back into the chair, his breathing gone, his heart frozen, his eyes closed.
Chuck Bartowski was gone.
Note: Yes, I do know that this chapter is slightly confusing. Hopefully, I'll explain it eventually. Don't worry, I'm more confident than I sound. Maybe. Probably.