Author: Fenfic PM
Human!AU Lem just wanted a perfect life. He had the girl of his dreams, in college studying what he loves most, and bunking with his bestfriend. Perfect. Now add Charles T. Baker, and all that implies. Not so perfect. Chuck/Lem T for nowRated: Fiction T - English - Romance - Chapters: 2 - Words: 6,055 - Reviews: 17 - Favs: 13 - Follows: 25 - Updated: 02-12-10 - Published: 02-02-10 - id: 5714185
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N:Please review. If you don't, I will not continue. I know your looking, I just need your feedback.
Oh yeah, this is a long term story! I want the end result to be love, not lust.
I want to thank FF user "Vois" for editing and giving me ideas for this fanfiction. Thank you so much, Ash.
Question, noticed how Lem idolized the perfect life in the movie? I took that, and shaped Lem in the character you'll see in this story. He's still that sensitive sweet Lem we loved in the movie, just... A little more rounded of a character then the movie made him out to be. ( I hope, at least!) He's just more perfectionist, a little bitter and stubborn as hell. Every character has to have his bad side, too, you know.
Summery: HUMAN!Alternate Universe Lem is 21, fresh into collage, and planning to major in planetary astronomy. Living with your best friend since the days, and dating the girl of your dreams. Not to mention the job he scored at the planetarium. Perfect-- Right? Now, add Charles T. Baker to the equation. Lem soon learns his life is not so peachy keen. And what's with the hippie radical and the principle?
Eventual Chuck/Lem, minor Lem/Neera, minor Grawl/Glar (Which will not be part of the main story, but in chapter named "Omake")
(Don't worry, it's all going to be Chuck/Lem in the end.)
Rating: T (for now)
Warnings! harsh language, eventual slash, mentions of drugs and alcohol, possible risque scenes.
Disclaimer: Planet 51 does not belong to me. Neither do any other mentioned pop culture figures. If it did... well, I wouldn't be writing this, would I?
Chapter 1. Mystery Monday
Alright.. How should I start this?
I need a header right?
September 21, 2009.
Wait-- Do I add the day of the week? Couldn't hurt to add it.
September 21, 2009.
Dear Lorry Garner,
Shouldn't I use her full title?
Dear Deputy Administrator Lorry Garner,
Dear Deputy Administrator Lorry Garner of NASA,
Is 'dear' too formal?
It's teasing me, that incisive blinking! It reminds me I can't think of another word; that I cannot write this damned letter. Did the people who create computers purposely make it so you wouldn't type? Is that why Microsoft Word is so expensive? It all makes sens-- Okay, stop it.
I need to stop thinking like this. Conspiracy theories and paranoia are Skiff's department.
Tenseness builds in my hands and brow. My hands refuse to move and so dose my mind.
The chair makes a harsh sound under me as I sit up. I know I won't be able to write the rest of the e-mail by just sitting there, so might as well do something productive. My clock reads half past eight. That gives me an hour until I have run to class.
Breakfast sounds good right about now.
It doesn't take long to pour a bowl of Cheerios. Fun part is, I can feed them to my fish too. They've lasted pretty long on them, the oldest one is 2 years old. Saves money on fish food, too.
A note is posted on the refrigerator, reads:
Went to work early, saving for movie tickets to see the new movie, "Paranormal Activity"!"
Eye rolling was inevitable. I didn't even need to finish reading the note to know who it was from. As if the hand writing wasn't a dead give away.
Strange, really... I've know Skiff since daycare days, you'd think I'd be used to it. Skiff's obsessions consisted of robots, alien invaders, and oddly enough, dogs. He'd do pretty much anything to indulge himself on such interests. I just thought he would have outgrown them by-- Well, I don't know, sixteen maybe. Obliviously, he was proving otherwise.
But it was Skiff's immaturity that made him familiar. We're a pact. We've been through our roughs, our highs and lows. We went through the dreaded puberty era of high school. Now here we are roommates, sharing the rent.
Maybe I should start unpacking some of the boxes...
The empty bowl made a clank as it hit the sink.
I think I'll call Neera after that.
"Hey... I wanted to know how you were doing."
"Lem, you saw me but two days ago."
"A lot can happen in two days. What can I say?"
"Aww, you're cute."
Conversation continued, following on topics such as how each others weekend was, from Neera's experience was fighting gay rights. That was like Neera, standing up for whatever she believed was injustice. She just really started to express that to the public after she met Glar. I don't like Glar. Glar was... a character, to say the least. One who smelled of beer and weed. I don't like that, spells trouble. But Neera says he's a good guy, so I'll trust her word... reluctantly.
"Yourself? What are you up to?"
"Ah.. That." She had to ask. " Well, I've been trying to write a letter to the people at NASA."
"Yes, still! I mean... It doesn't hurt to try, right?"
Truth was, I've loved the stars and everything space related. Planets and stars was the décor in my room. Currently, the milky way had made it's debut as my laptop's desktop. Hell, by the time I hit second year, I've decided to major in planetary science. But where is that going to get me in life? I'm hitting for a position in NASA. It's perfect for me.
Problem is getting there.
"Lem... Honestly, don't you think you're trying to hard?"
"I am not trying to hard!" Oh damn, there was that immature strain in my voice.
"Neera, listen, we've went over this before. Just because it's unlikely for me to get into NASA doesn't mean I can't try! As long as there's a possibility, no matter how small, there is still that chance! That chance could be mine." What I said was probably the most natural thing that came out of me all day. Ever since I was young I dreamed of this. I needed this-- life, my life, couldn't be perfect without it.
"... Well. If you really feel like that... I guess all I have to say is good luck."
Something felt a bit odd. I couldn't place my finger on it, but it was still odd.
I looked over, glancing at the table clock "Thank you Nee--"
"Shit! Neera I have to go! I'll see you at the cafe for lunch?"
"Uh, yeah, sure--"
"Great! Bye, I love you!"
Now where the hell is my bag.
Biology is great. Great for sleeping, catching up with Skiff, and a whole lot of nothing else.
Skiff and I hardly saw each other, even though we shared an apartment. Our work schedules both took late hours. Skiff's job was at a local Mom 'n Pop toy store. I toke a job cleaning floors and handling presentations at Glipflog Planetarium. Fitting jobs for both of us, I think.
Don't get me wrong though. I love science and all... but I work a night shift. I need some sleep. I told Skiff we should collaborate and buy a coffee machine, but he went and blew his half on the "9" premier. So, a cheaper alternative was taking naps during the day. I spend about 30 minutes napping, and Skiff spends the another half an hour sleeping. The other half and hour is spent talking. While I nap, Skiff takes notes, and vice versa. The plan has proved to work so far, since we both got a decent grade on the most recent test.
But for some reason, Skiff was to eager to sleep. In fact, I remember vaguely dreaming when Skiff shook me awake. A hissing whisper called, "Lem!"
A groan was mixed in with a faded "What?"
"Okay, listen, there's a once in a life time event going on in the planetarium. If you can score me some--"
"If this is about the Star Trek convention, we've went over this a hundred times, I've already got you set."
"No! I mean, yes, but no! Ah, don't change the subject! I'm talking about the-- wait. You don't know?"
I glared at Skiff, annoyed. The last thing I wanted was for him to dance a subject just to infuriate me. Always works too. "What are you talking about!"
Students were turning around to glare and shush us. I took the hint.
In a more hushed voice, I asked once again, "What are you talking about, Skiff?"
"You mean you didn't hear? Oh god, I thought of all people, you would have know. I mean, with your NASA fetish an-- "
"It is not a fetish!"
"Yeah, sure, whatever. Anyway! I thought you'd know since... Y'know, you work at the the place."
I would have normally flipped off anyone else who remarked snidely like that. But this was Skiff. He meant it all in playfulness and good humor. Still annoying, though.
"Alright, Skiff, you've had your fun. Now where are you getting at? And what does this have to do with NASA?"
There was a gleam in his eye. The one that said 'Well, your just going to have to find out your self.' It was the same look I got when I asked him what happened in the last Harry Potter book. But I was 15 then-- Wait. I'm getting off topic.
"... Your not going to tell me, are you?"
There was a long pause. By the time Skiff had finally spoken up, I had already laid my head down.
"Besides, you'll be going to work tonight. You'll see."
Oh, okay. Sure. Now let me sleep, Skiff.
"Oh, and Lem?"
"It's my turn to take a nap."
The Glipflorg University Cafe.
A feeding grounds for the student body, and all else that inhabit the campus. There's the usual groups of students. Actors and artist tended to make a pact together. You had the loners who wrote bad poetry and wore their hair over most of there face you'd think they're related to Cousin It. Savvy students with their flashy Apple computers (Who, if you gave theme a pencil, would probably say 'What is this? The stone ages?') Then you had the people who'd make a difference later in life; attending school rallies and protested rights for people that were still neglected by the law.
That was Neera, as well as most of the people she sat with.
Extensively prepared students, whom had their entire future planned out, was the label that fit me best.
Neera and I sat together, of course. She and her friends became acquainted, but never talked more conversed more the a simple 'Hello' or 'Good morning.' Often times, While Neera chatted with her friends, I just talk with Skiff (Who I know was only allowed into the group because he was such a close friend of mine.) But, Skiff went to get coffee, excusing himself with a "I'm running low on energy." Yeah, like I didn't know you thought the cashier was hot.
I was scanning through an old history book, reading things about the Challenger Space Shuttle when Neera confronted me.
"Hey, stranger." A chaste kiss upon the lips was our customary greeting. "What are you up to?"
"Ah... Reading a history book."
"I can see that. I meant, there looks like there's something on your mind."
Well, there was something... "You wouldn't happen to know about something going on at the planetarium, would you?"
Neera's eyes widened marginally. "Yeah! I read about it in the newspaper! Why do you ask...?" She looked hopeful almost as she took a seat next to me. Was she expecting the same thing Skiff expected of me? To score her some kind of good seats or something? Whatever it was, I didn't really care at the time.
What did bite at me was how everyone knew about this mystery event occurring at very place I was employed at.
"Okay, wait a minute. What the hell? First Skiff, now you! Who else knows about this?"
"It's published all over the local news, Lem. I thought you knew."
Oh yeah, sure. I pay a $90 bill for cable and internet, and don't even check the local news stories with it. Smart. Real smart, Lem.
I brought both hands to cover my eyes."I feel like such an idiot," There's going to be a headache cursing me soon, I can feel it.
"Now, now, I wouldn't say idiot. I'd say... misinformed!"
I looked at Neera and smiled thankfully. I was going to ask something along the lines of 'What's going on there anyway?' but the second I opened my mouth a guitar strummed.
Oh! There's that headache.
You see, under the Glipflorg University laws of student body labeling, I'd say Glar is a tough one to stamp. He could be considered a junkie, ridden with the smell of beer and cigarette smoke. But his rather radical opinions of how schools should be run and basically his entire philosophy of life suggests otherwise. I would call him a hippie, but I was pretty sure those died out by the 80's. Glar proved me wrong.
"Hello my peace making partners!" Glar made an exaggerated movement with his arm, making a peace sign with his hand. As Glar approached the table, Neera and her friends gathered to greet him. " So, what did all of you do this weekend to make the world a better place?"
Suddenly the idea of tuning out the world with a nap didn't sound so bad.
No, Glar. I'm ignoring you.
Ow! Fuck, "Don't poke my head with your guitar!" Took me a few moments to realize I thought aloud. Ha, at least I didn't say the curse part aloud.
"Oh... You're awake."
Obviously, "What do you want?"
"Neera is like... worried about you. What's up?"
Oh, what, your suddenly a song writer, junkie and a therapist? "Yeah, what's it to you."
"Well... what'd you do for your weekend?"
Is this guy honestly trying to make conversation with me? I looked up at him weakly, racking my brain for ideas on how to get away from this guy. "Yeah, you know, I did the usual. Work. Sleep. Eat. You know, life."
"Ah... Lame. But you know, it's your life."
Okay, that's it, I'm going away. "Yeah, I'm sure you had a much better way of spending your time." If you think drinking and living in the back of a Volkswagen Van that should have hit scrap yard years ago fun. I collect my books and kiss Neera, telling her I'd call her tonight.
"What's your problem, man? I mean, I respect if you've had a bad day and al--"
Tuning you out. Glar had that sluggish tone to his voice that just got ate at my nerves. I couldn't stand his presence. I don't know why, I just didn't like him. In a rush, I passed Glar and leaving his question hanging in the hair. Vaguely, I remember hearing Glar mumbling something about me having 'issues.'
Work at an observatory was fun.
While paperwork was boring, and writing down appointments wasn't the most fun thing in the world, but the atmosphere really made a difference. It made me relaxed, contented with the stars and planets. Oh, and it was a blast working here at night, got the whole place to myself. I feel like a kid in a candy shop when I'm here.
Yet, things were unusually hectic as I walked in. People making made dashes across the waxed marble floor, while crews worked various jobs. Everyone seemed to busy with their own thing to even notice me walk in. Frankly, I preferred it like that. So, I just punched in. My, there was snack tables in the lounge?
This must all be about that mystery event! How could I forget... Then again, when your in Calculus II can your really focus and anything but the instructor? The food looked expensive, this must be something bigger then the average elementary school field trip.
I was about to set up at my desk, but I caught my eye on the head coordinator of the planetarium. I needed to ask him about this mystery business. He had just got off the phone and looked as if he was searching for something. "Professor Phlegm?"
The curator looked as if his search was over. "Lem! You are just the person I needed to see."
"... I am?"
"Why, of course m'boy!" I had never talked to the professor before, save for the interview to get this job. Time made me forget his distinct English accent. "You are the perfect candidate."
"How does the prospect of meeting a national hero sound?"
At first, I flat out rejected.
Why the hell would I would want to personally trot a pompous arrogant conceited celebrity around town? Be his tour guide and get nothing back but an autograph. As if that was supposed to make up my wasted valuable time and a whole week of school classes. Why, I rather watch that awful Transformers squeal then go through that kind of embarrassment and mental distress. Did all the stale air and dust in the Professors office turn him crazy?
A heavy sigh escaped the Professor, "I suppose I could give Nadine the job. She's wanted that extra $5 an hour. After all, she's always wanted to meet an astronaut." There was an exaggerated swing as the old man turned to leave. His steps were slow, trying to waver my judgment.
The professor stopped.
It wasn't the fame that drew me into the idea of being a celebrity's tour guide. I don't give a flip if I was touring the mayor around. Wasn't the fact he was a national hero, or the extra pay (Money that I certainty could have used.) The fact I'd miss school was definitely not it either. This was about my future. My future at NASA, and my chance at being what I've dreamed to be since childhood. Screw typing emails to every Dick and Jane that work at HQ. I can have an astronaut as a connection. Who's a better connection to NASA then an astronaut!
"I'll do it."
The Professor's fuzzy mustache smiled, "Brilliant! Be here by 6 am sharp. I'll have you acquainted with the chap in no time at all. Oh, you may have too prepare a list of destinations in which you..." With a few of Phlegm's instructions, I had gotten the basic gist of it all.
For some reason though, I began to get a bad feeling within my gut.
Maybe, just maybe, I've made a mistake.
` To be continued...`
A/N: Tell me if I should continue. I really need people to tell me, or I will not continue the fanfiction. After all, what's the point in writing something no will read? In essence, review please ; o ;
Oh, and PS, That "Lorry Garner" is a twist of the real Deputy Administratorat NASA.