Work Text:
Chuck's days are very ordered. He can remember lists, so he makes lists of everything: lists of things he knows about his sister, about Devon, about Morgan, about Anna, about Jeff and Lester, about Big Mike, lists of cheat codes in video games he plays with Morgan, lists of important dates in his own history. He has a list of what he's supposed to do every day and he follows it in sequence. The first command on Chuck's master list is:
10 GET UP
This doesn't need to be on the list, really, because he would do it anyway, or if he doesn't (Chuck sleeps more now than he used to), Ellie will come in shouting, "What's the matter with you, Chuck? Can't you hear the alarm clock? It's been going off for ten minutes. Get up," and the words get up will remind Chuck of the rest of the list.
Ellie successfully doesn't say, "What's wrong with you?" anymore and only says, "What's the matter with you?" when she's stressed. Chuck knows his condition puts a lot of stress on her. She thought her baby brother would grow out of being looked after, not grow into it. At first, Chuck tried to tell her nothing was wrong but he could tell he was scaring her, so he called Casey to ask him if it was okay for her to take him to the hospital like she wanted.
Casey told him he could go but he couldn't tell the doctors anything and he had to call Casey again if they gave him any drugs. So Chuck didn't tell the doctors how hard it was to remember what he had for breakfast or what color his car was or what an alarm clock sounded like. Between Chuck's obstinate uncooperativeness and the observed compulsive note-taking, list-making behavior, Ellie's doctor friends arrived at a diagnosis of autism and tried to talk to Ellie about how a lot of geek social awkwardness could be attributed to an undiagnosed autistic disorder like Asperger's, although Chuck's slide down the spectrum was rather terrifyingly unique.
Ellie insisted that her brother had never had those kind of problems. Chuck said nothing and wouldn't look at anyone because that was the best way not to forget that he couldn't tell Ellie about how they'd made the Intersect stop working in his head. Devon sat down next to Chuck while Ellie was still arguing and started to say, "I know this is scary, buddy," only Chuck interrupted, "Don't patronize me. I'm sorry I'm freaking everyone out, but I'm not stupid." He didn't look up from his notebook at all, which probably only reinforced the diagnosis.
They gave him pills. They wanted to try various occupational therapies on him, but Chuck didn't want to work with anyone, so eventually they gave him pills. Casey said it was fine for him to take the pills. The pills don't do anything. Chuck still can't remember.
Next on Chuck's list is:
20 CHECK DATE ON WATCH
This is followed by the first extra condition Chuck had to add to his list, which he still struggles to remember. So far he hasn't needed to use it.
25 IFF NO WATCH, PANIC
Panic is not as useless an instruction as it sounds. Panic is the name of a different list of instructions, the one Chuck is supposed to follow if he feels threatened, if anyone says the word Intersect to him, if anyone asks him if he's flashed. Chuck was following the Panic list when he called Casey about going to the hospital with Ellie.
Every morning Chuck has had his watch, though, so he checks the date. Then he goes onto the next instructions, which are,
30 CHECK CALENDAR FOR DATE
40 IF SPECIAL EVENT, GOTO NOTES
50 IF SAT OR SUN, GOTO WEEKEND LIST
60 ELSE GET READY FOR WORK
There are a fair number of items Chuck has to do to get ready for work, but that list is far easier and more comfortable than the two minutes he spends sorting out what kind of day it is and which list he should follow. Eventually he goes to the kitchen and:
170 EAT BERRY LOOPS
Devon will always offer Chuck horrifying green colon shakes and Ellie still thinks Chuck should switch to something less sugar-coated, like her nut bran cereal, but these are old arguments that Chuck has had with them before, so it doesn't bother them much that Chuck is a creature of habit and always has the breakfast that's on his list. Then sometimes Devon makes waffles or pancakes for Ellie as a treat, though, Chuck has Berry Loops anyway, and Ellie says, "Don't you want pancakes?" with that heartbreaking tremble in her voice. Old Chuck used to love pancakes. New Chuck can't remember why.
Sometimes Chuck agrees to have pancakes with Berry Loops. He doesn't want to upset his sister. He's afraid that if he leaves Berry Loops out entirely, he'll forget where he's supposed to be on the list.
Then there's,
180 TAKE DISHES TO KITCHEN
190 PUT ON SHOES
200 STRAIGHTEN TIE LET ELLIE STRAIGHTEN TIE
Ellie will do it whether Chuck remembers the edit or not. It's best to let her. It's one thing she can do for him when there's so very little she can do for him, so he lets her.
240 DRIVE I-5 N 4 MILES
250 EXIT BURBANK BLVD
260 TURN LEFT AT STOP LIGHT
270 DRIVE THREE MORE LIGHTS
280 TURN RIGHT INTO BUY MORE LOT
290 PARK IN NERD HERD SPACE
Chuck is late to work a lot because of accidents or construction on the I-5. He always apologizes to Big Mike and tells him exactly why, and Big Mike says, "Damn it, son, why don't you take surface?" Chuck doesn't remember the way on surface streets. Chuck put the directions to work in his list because he gets lost and forgets where he's going if he doesn't. Places he's driven before a hundred times all look vaguely familiar, but not enough for him to remember where to turn and then all of the sudden nothing looks familiar. He can't tell if it's because he missed his turn or just because he forgot. So he writes everything down and counts lights and has a dozen googlemaps printed out and folded into his notebook. It's the only thing that works.
At the Buy More, Chuck has more lists to look at. He has a catalog of binders full of user manuals for everything in the store and everything anyone has ever brought in for him to fix, all stuffed with extra pages printed out from tech forums on common problems and common fixes. He used to just look at the pdfs online but this is easier for him now. He has a calendar with dates for big promotions. He has an entire four-inch three-ring binder of Official Policies and Procedures to enforce.
Chuck is assistant manager at the Buy More. Morgan thinks the job has made him completely anal retentive but admits that beating Jeff and Lester over the collective head with the Official Policies and Procedures manual has stopped some of the skeevier behavior.
Chuck has lunch with Morgan every day. He checks his calendar, and if it is a Monday, Wednesday or Friday, he buys. If it is a Tuesday or Thursday, Morgan buys. Morgan usually picks where they go because Chuck doesn't remember food well enough to want anything in particular. He has a list of almost all the restaurants in the strip mall and what he orders at each. There are only two places that he refuses to go. The first is the Orange Orange, which Morgan understands perfectly well in a slightly skewed way, because yes, it's about Sarah, but at the same time, it isn't, and Chuck can't really remember why. The second is Yong's, which Morgan has mourned repeatedly. It's specifically listed in all of Chuck's meal time instructions that he doesn't want Chinese food. He always says he doesn't like it, though he doesn't remember, and he doesn't think that's why.
Chuck still works the Nerd Herd Help Desk, though he usually finds out just enough about customers' problems to call over someone else to answer their question. He calls it delegation and pretends it's part of being assistant manager.
When people Chuck doesn't recognize use his name, he always has to be careful. Sometimes they're just reading his name tag. Sometimes they're regular customers, but if that regularity is only once a week or once a month, it's not enough to stick in Chuck's everyday routine memory, but if they'll tell him what he helped them with before, he can say, "Oh! Right, how's that working for you?" and the pretense is enough for them.
Then there's people like this: "Hey, Chuck," he says, leaning on the counter and tossing his head a little to get his hair out of his face. He's got bright blue eyes and stubble on his jaw, around his mouth. He's no one Chuck can place.
"Hello," Chuck says cautiously. "Welcome to Buy More."
He laughs and says, "Right, yeah, is there some place we can talk?" He's looking around and Chuck doesn't know what he's looking for, but it makes him nervous.
"I can give you information on anything in the store from right here," Chuck offers, gesturing at his computer.
"Are you still pissed at me?" he says. This is when Chuck is sure he thinks Chuck's supposed to know him.
"No, of course not," Chuck says. "Why--why would I be angry at you?"
He cocks his head at Chuck and says, "You don't know who I am."
This is when Chuck's sure he's dangerous.
"It's me, Bryce."
Chuck runs through the list of people he has lists on. There's no Bryce.
"Bryce Larkin?" says Bryce.
No Larkin either.
"From Stanford," says Bryce Larkin.
"Right," Chuck says slowly. He knows he went to Stanford. Four years on the timeline of his life. "We were in that class--"
"I was your roommate," Bryce interrupts. This is bad. This is very bad.
"Of course," Chuck amends. He'll always trust someone else's memory over his own. "Sorry, I just--didn't recognize you there. Wow, you've changed. Is it the hair? Is that a new look, with the--?"
"What the hell happened to you, Chuck?" says Bryce. "You don't have any idea who I am, do you?"
Chuck stops. Waits. People sometimes come up with their own explanations if he stays shut up.
"It wasn't supposed to work like this," Bryce mutters. "It was supposed to block the Intersect data, not your own memories."
Chuck very much wants to start going down the Panic list now. The first step on the Panic list is Make sure you're not observed. The second is Call Casey. Chuck needs to get away from Bryce.
"Look, I'm sorry," Chuck says, "I'm actually really busy here, I need to take some of this in the back--"
As Chuck is reaching for a stack of on-site install reports, Bryce puts his hand on Chuck's arm. "You don't have to be afraid of me," Bryce says quietly. "I'm the one who gave you the Intersect."
Chuck knows he shouldn't answer, knows he shouldn't say anything that shows he knows anything, but things slip out of his mouth without him thinking about it, sometimes, and he knows he's given up so much to get the Intersect out that he can't help but say, furiously, "I didn't want it."
Bryce stares at him a moment. "QoS," he says, in another language. It sounds harsh enough to be a curse word but everything sounds harsh in Klingon.
It fucking figures that Bryce Larkin can't even say I'm sorry in plain English, Chuck thinks in the moment after he flashes. Chuck does still flash sometimes, but he doesn't tell anybody. As long he doesn't react, as long as no one knows, it doesn't matter. Except that this time he didn't flash on someone he saw on TV or in the newspaper, he flashed on Bryce Larkin, Hija', ghobe', and the fact that he once trusted this man to shoot him. His ribs hurt.
Bryce is watching him.
Bryce slowly, deliberately lets go of Chuck's arm. He picks up a flyer off the counter and says, "So if I wanted you to come out and fix my computer, this is the number I would call?"
"Yes," Chuck says. He almost remembers something else but it slips away.
Bryce gets out a cell phone and dials, never breaking eye contact. The phone on Chuck's desk rings. It rings again. Chuck knows he's staring at Bryce but he can't look away. "Hello," he says into the phone. "Thank you for calling the Buy More Nerd Herd. How can I help you?"
"I've got a computer emergency," says Bryce. "Can you send Chuck Bartowski? I hear he's really good."
Chuck is useless at tech work away from the long shelf of manuals in the cage. He gives his automatic excuse: "I'm sorry, I'm the assistant manager, I can't leave the store."
"Make an exception," Bryce says.
"If you'd like to bring your computer in--"
"The computer is your head," Bryce says. "I can fix it."
Chuck doesn't remember what it was like to have the Intersect running all the time and he's hard-pressed to imagine it made him more miserable than being this empty shell, coping with the lack of any real memory by making lists of everything. Numbers and bullet points and strings of words, nothing with any substance, that's all that's in his brain now, except for that one brief flash: Hija'? ghobe'? and the barrel of the gun, the sound of the shot, the flattening slam of the impact, the straining gasp against the bruise, the relief in the curve of Bryce's smile and the piercing blue of his eyes, looking down.
Chuck reaches for a pencil. "What's the address?"
Bryce catches Chuck's hand before he gets to the pencil jar. "I'll take you."
Bryce leads Chuck outside, puts him in his car, reminds him to buckle up. Chuck gets out his notebook and his pencil. First he writes down on the calendar page for this day, Special Event: On-site Install for Bryce Larkin. Then he opens to a clean page and titles it, Things I Know About Bryce Larkin. In the upper right hand corner he starts taking shorthand notes on where they're going, with hash marks for every light they drive through. He doesn't know if he'll be able to use it to find his way back, if he has to escape, but he'll be able to read it off to Casey and Casey will come.
"What are you writing?" Bryce asks.
"Nothing," says Chuck, scrawling Roommate at Stanford under the title in a shaky hand. Bryce blows through a yellow light and Chuck makes another hash mark.
Bryce drives him to a motel. He takes Chuck upstairs. He sits Chuck down on the bed and presses an ordinary-looking prescription pill bottle into Chuck's hand, the one that's not clutching the notebook for dear life. Chuck rolls the bottle so he can read the label. "Glutamic acid," he says.
"I need you to be the Intersect again," Bryce says, sitting down next to Chuck. He's holding a glass of water.
"This is what they gave me when," Chuck says, breathing hard. "When they took it away."
"I know," said Bryce. "It's a neurotransmitter, one that you're supposed to have. They OD'd you on it so your body would become dependent on the pills for it and stop producing enough on its own. And then they took the pills away."
"This won't make me normal again," Chuck says. "Just for as long as a pill lasts."
"A couple of hours," Bryce says, watching him. Chuck doesn't know what to make of the way Bryce watches him. "Please. For me."
Chuck uncurls his fingers from his notebook and sets it down so he can twist the cap off the bottle. His hands shake. He puts a pill in his mouth. Bryce hands him the water and watches him swallow. Blue eyes, Chuck wants to write in his notebook, with four or five underlines.
"How long until it kicks in?" Chuck asks. "How much will I remember?"
"About half an hour," says Bryce. "I don't know. Enough, I hope."
"I mean, about my life," Chuck says, frustrated, and he might say more but Bryce shushes him with his hand on the back of Chuck's neck and his mouth on Chuck's mouth. It takes Chuck probably fifteen seconds to connect up what's happening with the word kiss.
So perhaps it shouldn't be too much of a surprise when Bryce says, "What, did you forget how to have sex?"
"No," Chuck insists, blushing. But he doesn't remember what it's like. Maybe that's a failing on his part, back when he was making lists to live by, that he never wrote down the steps to this dance so he'd be able to pick it up again. Except that even now, heart hammering, Chuck can't imagine what he would say in his notebook about this.
"Don't worry," Bryce says, pulling him back in. "It's just like riding a bicycle." He's laughing, but Chuck doesn't care.
Chuck still doesn't know what to do so he tries to do what Bryce does, tries to copy everything, until Bryce says, "Relax and let me drive, all right?" and after that, Chuck just reacts. At some point something kicks over in his brain and he knows what's about to happen, but even knowing, it surprises him--and as he's gasping, eyes squeezed shut, the back of his head pressed into the pillow by the arch of his own spine, he remembers that yes, memory works like that, even for normal people: things dull and fade, the shapes of things remain but intensity is lost.
"Show me your files," Chuck says. Bryces does, and Chuck flashes on cue.
After, there's the pill bottle on the night stand; Chuck looks at it, chin resting on his folded arms. He's lying on the bed still, cool air on his shoulderblades. "Take it with you," says Bryce, following his gaze.
"I can't," Chuck says.
"You don't have to take it all the time," Bryce says. "You can take it when you want. You can get more--it's not controlled. You can--you don't have to be like this, Chuck."
"I chose to be like this," Chuck says softly.
"Did you?" Bryce asks.
"More than I chose the Intersect in the first place," Chuck snaps.
"You were happy, I thought," Bryce begins.
"I was in danger all the time," Chuck answers.
"You're in danger now," Bryce retorts.
"Casey looks after me," Chuck says, slowly, wondering how much looking after he actually requires.
"But not Sarah," says Bryce. "They didn't tell you how much you'd lose," he adds. Chuck doesn't know if he means how devastating the treatment was to his memory or what happened when Sarah had to watch him fall apart.
"You didn't, either," Chuck says, remembering the first time he lied to Ellie about where he'd been, how he'd nearly died at least three times on one date. "They said--I could go back to living my life."
"Just take it with you," Bryce says. "Write yourself a note. Or don't. In five hours you won't even know why you have it. Whatever you want. Just--choose, this time, because you want it, not because they're shoving it down your throat."
"Why do you care?" Chuck asks.
Bryce is quiet for a long enough moment that Chuck shifts his gaze from the pill bottle to Bryce's blue eyes. "Take another pill," Bryce says bitterly. "See if you remember."
Two weeks later, Casey comes into the store and walks up to the Nerd Herd desk. "Welcome to Buy More," says Chuck, as if Casey is any other customer.
"Hey, Chuck, it's Casey," he says, because he's been Chuck's handler long enough to know Chuck's memory needs the little jog of his name.
Chuck nods in recognition. "What's up?" he asks. He doesn't tense.
"Just checking in," Casey says: it's on Chuck's list of things he knows about Casey that Casey only checks on him in person every month or so. "Anything come up?" he asks.
Chuck's smile is easy. It shows nothing. "Nope," he says. "It's been business as usual."
3430 END