Author's Note: Because there is never enough Bryce is Neal fic, I had to write another one. This started out as one sentence and has blown up the more I've written, so I'm splitting it into a few chapters. It takes place post-series for Chuck and prior to "Judgment Day" for White Collar. Story title comes from the Mumford & Sons song "To Darkness."

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.

Chapter 1

Neal trudged up the steps to his apartment with heavy feet after another long day at the office. The last several weeks had seen the FBI investigating an influx of high-end arms deals involving national and international players—including various branches of the mob, which had pulled in agents from Organized Crime—and some private security firms. The White Collar division had been involved because of the high price tags of the products and stolen items used as currency.

The CIA and NSA had also gotten involved, meaning long days at the Bureau and in the field for Neal, as he was working both on the cases and to make sure none of their guests recognized him. That was another life that he'd left behind three years before. And with his commutation hearing coming up, Neal had been on his best behavior, trying not to rock the boat. But mixing his old and new lives would definitely do that.

His past was messy—far messier than anything Neal Caffrey had ever been involved in or would know how to deal with. It was also filled with death, betrayals, danger, and broken relationships that remained jagged to the touch if he ever let the shield that was Neal Caffrey's skin fall for even the slightest moment. He'd gotten better at becoming his alias over the years, though. And he'd unexpectedly found something good in New York, even if it was in a two-mile radius.

He shook his head as he hit the top of the steps; he must be more exhausted than he thought if his thoughts were wandering there. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower, drink a tall glass (or two) of wine, and collapse face-first into bed—and not necessarily in that order. He opened the unlocked door, expecting to find Mozzie inside drinking his wine and not replenishing the supply. But it wasn't Mozzie sitting at the table when Neal stepped inside. Neal froze with one hand still on the door knob. His eyes widened and he was pretty sure his heart skipped a beat.

Chuck Bartowski pushed himself to his feet, eyeing Neal with his own wide eyes, looking just as surprised to see Neal as Neal was to see him. Only Chuck wasn't seeing Neal Caffrey. He was seeing the dead man with the jagged past; he, after all, was one of those sharp edges that cut deep on those nights it wasn't Neal Caffrey sitting on June's balcony.

"Oh my god," Chuck breathed. "Bryce." He shook his head in disbelief. "It's true. You're really alive."

The sound of Chuck's voice seemed to break whatever spell Neal was under, and he shut the door behind him quickly, not needing anyone—especially June—to hear this conversation. He shed his hat and jacket on the sofa arm before turning back to look at his ex-best friend. It had been three years since he'd seen Chuck, and he'd never actually thought he'd see him again either.

"And what if I wasn't and you'd broken into an innocent stranger's apartment?" he retorted, surprised at how even his voice came out.

Chuck laughed sheepishly and it was as though Neal was 19 again, sitting in the Stanford library with Chuck, talking about video games and girls instead of studying for midterms. And just like that, the second skin that was Neal Caffrey fell to the floor like a cheap suit, revealing the original: Bryce Larkin, CIA agent.

"Well," Chuck said, "I was pretty sure it was you."

"Pretty sure?" Bryce echoed, raising an eyebrow. Chuck shrugged self-consciously. "Whatever," Bryce said, waving off the point. "What are you even doing here? How did you find me?"

No one should know he was alive, especially Chuck. He'd made a lot of sacrifices, including his life—twice—for his old friend's sake. Only General Beckman should know he was back in New York living as Neal Caffrey; it had been her idea for Bryce Larkin to officially remain dead and for him to disappear in New York as the infamous conman and art thief. She'd also approved the decision for him to become Peter Burke's CI, giving him access to the FBI in case an inside man was needed, especially considering the various internal splinter groups they'd been dealing with at the time.

But Bryce had never been activated and, honestly, he hoped it stayed that way. Neal Caffrey's life was one he'd come to enjoy. He had people he cared about and, surprisingly, cared about him—something he'd never thought he'd ever find again after being recruited into the CIA in college. And he wasn't sure he was ready to let go now that he'd found it again.

"What am I doing here?" Chuck repeated in disbelief. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be dead, Bryce. I watched you die in that Intersect room three years ago." He shook his head. "I mourned you. Sarah mourned you."

Bryce's stomach twisted, but he shoved it aside. Sarah was another jagged edge he couldn't afford to think about. "Clearly the reports of my death were greatly exaggerated," he said at last.

Chuck glared at him. "Bryce."

"Fine. You're right. I did die. Again." He rolled his shoulders to cover the shudder that ran down his spine at the memory. The pain from the gunshot and the cold encroaching as the life bled from him still haunted his nightmares. "But a CIA team found my body and revived me. I was never told how. I guess they were able to improve on Fulcrum's technology since I'd been dead for several minutes this time."

"And you didn't think it would be a good idea to let anyone know?" Chuck demanded.

Bryce shook his head and crossed into the kitchen. He grabbed a glass from the counter and poured himself some wine. "It was Beckman's idea. My recovery took longer than expected and we both figured it would be safer if Bryce Larkin stayed dead. There were traitors inside the CIA and the NSA who would still be looking for me if word got out that I was still alive." He smiled without any humor before taking a sip from his glass. "I had a lot of enemies and wasn't in any position to protect myself for a while there."

Chuck sighed. He was familiar with Bryce's laundry list of enemies, having dealt with a number of them in his time. "So you've been here this whole time?"

"Yes."

"Doing what?"

"Living," Bryce replied simply. He poured a second glass wine and handed it to Chuck. He nodded to the table and they took seats across from one another. "Neal Caffrey was the alias from my first undercover mission," he said by way of explanation. "God, it must have been about nine years ago now."

Chuck's eyes went wide. "Nine years? We—well, you—still would've been at Stanford."

Bryce nodded, though he felt a twinge of guilt; he'd been the one to get Chuck kicked out of school for cheating when the guy'd done nothing but test well. But the CIA had had their eyes on him, and as his best friend and a spy himself, Bryce wasn't going to let the CIA destroy the boyish innocence that Chuck still carried with him. Becoming a spy had fundamentally changed Bryce, and he didn't want to see that happen to his best friend. So, with the help of Chuck's father, he'd set Chuck up to protect him. He'd just never imagined his actions would have ruined Chuck's life in a completely different way. Chuck was smart and kind and should have been able to have any job he wanted. Instead, he ended up working at the Nerd Herd at the Burbank Buy More before the spy life found him again anyway.

"It was my senior year. I did an 'exchange program' with NYU, which was just a cover to give me a chance to move to New York and set up my undercover op," Bryce said. He didn't know why he was telling Chuck this, but it felt good to get it off his chest after all this time. If Peter ever found out… He shook off the thought. That was never going to happen. "I created the Neal Caffrey alias and lived on it for several years. I never burned it either, so was able to come back to it years later."

"That's dangerous. You could have been recognized by someone dangerous. Neal Caffrey is an internationally known art thief and forger, after all," Chuck pointed out. Bryce blinked and Chuck smirked. "We looked into the name you were going by."

"Clearly, since you recognized me," Bryce replied with a grimace. "So how did you find me?" If Chuck could find him, then that meant he'd slipped up somewhere and other enemies could be bearing down on him at this very moment. Somehow he'd put his loved ones here in danger. Not good.

"Casey," Chuck replied.

Bryce's eyes widened. John Casey had been the one to kill him the first time, right after he's sent the original Intersect to Chuck rather than hand it off to Fulcrum. It also meant Chuck was still in touch with the NSA agent and, as a result, the spy game.

"You're still spying," he said flatly.

Chuck took a sip of wine and fidgeted. "Yeah, about that…"

A thought hit Bryce and it wasn't a pleasant one. "You didn't download the Intersect 2.0 when I told you to destroy it, did you?"

"I didn't see another option. You were dead and the Fulcrum agents would have killed me, Casey, and Sarah," Chuck retorted. "It was the only way out."

"You were out," Bryce said, running a hand through his hair. He'd wanted nothing more than to help Chuck remove the Intersect that he'd stuck his friend with in the first place. He knew what a burden it had placed on him; it had brought him in contact with the life Bryce had been trying to protect him from in the first place. And it seemed the life had stuck its claws into Chuck and hadn't let go since. It was not something he'd ever wanted for Chuck and made him unbearably sad to think about.

"I don't think there was ever going to be an 'out' for me, Bryce," Chuck replied in that infuriatingly calm way he had about him. "My dad was Orion. My mother was a spy as well, working undercover to take down Alexei Volkoff."

Bryce's eyes widened as he connected the dots. He'd heard whispers about a spy who'd gone rogue nearly twenty years earlier and joined the Russians. But if that were true, Chuck would truly be spy royalty. "Your mother was Frost?"

Chuck nodded. "We took down Volkoff with her help, you know. She's free."

That… Well, that was damn impressive. Volkoff Industries had been an empire, ruling the underworld with an iron fist. Alexei Volkoff had been a tyrant in control of most of the world's arms deals for decades, and his men had been everywhere, from the CIA to the NSA and FBI to Fulcrum and The Ring. But it explained why his group was not visible in any of the deals currently going on in the city.

Bryce shook his head, trying to process all this information. After leaving the spy life behind for three years, it was all coming back at him at once. And his brain wasn't exactly a super computer like someone else's in the room. Finally, though, his thoughts circled back to his original question.

"How did Casey find me?" he asked.

"Oh, that." Chuck took another sip of wine. "He's working with Verbanski on security for the arms deals. He and Gertrude have a thing, you know."

"That makes a disturbing amount of sense," Bryce replied, considering what he knew about the woman—basically a female John Casey by reputation.

Chuck laughed. "I know, right? Anyway, he saw you with the FBI about a week ago so did some digging."

"You mean he spied on me," Bryce said with a hint of a smile.

"You could say that," Chuck hedged, though Bryce could read him like no time had passed since they'd been roommates. Casey must have followed him and confirmed his identity. Maybe Chuck had even flashed on it, considering his file was probably in the Intersect.

"Did you take this to Beckman?" Bryce asked at last.

Chuck shook his head. "No. I wanted to confirm it first. So here I am."

"Here you are," Bryce agreed. "So now what? You have to understand that I have a life here, Chuck."

"It's not a real life," Chuck argued. "It's the life of an alias. That's why we came. We wanted— Well, we hoped you might come back with us. You could be you again. We've gone private though Beckman still has jobs for us sometimes. We've got our own company and everything. Carmichael Industries."

Bryce had heard that name before. It had been in one of the files about the various private security firms caught up in the arms brokering going on.

"Of course you do," Bryce said, shaking his head. It was better than selling his soul to the government at least. "Look, I appreciate that. I really do. But that guy? The Bryce Larkin you came to find?" Chuck nodded. "That's not me anymore. I left that life behind three years ago. I'm happy here."

"Happy?" Chuck squeaked. "You have a tracking anklet with a two mile radius! If you asked Beckman, she could—"

But Bryce cut him off. "It's okay. I've done enough traveling in my life." He had a lot of enemies around the world, both as Bryce and as Neal. Honestly, he was safer in New York than he'd been in years. "It might not be the glamorous life of a spy, but there are people here I care about."

"That Neal cares about."

"I am Neal."

Chuck shook his head. "Neal Caffrey is like one of those nice suits you're wearing—looks real good and gets you a lot of attention, but you eventually have to change it out it for something more comfortable."

Bryce blinked. "That didn't even make sense."

"I thought it was pretty good."

"You're insane."

"So I've been told."

They fell into silence after that, the witty banter having come back so naturally that Bryce couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, his Nerd Herder of a friend might have a point. Maybe Bryce Larkin was that something more comfortable.

Chuck drained his wine and rose. "Look, Sarah's in town too and she wants to see you."

Bryce balked. "I—"

"Just have dinner with us tomorrow night. We'll find a place inside your radius. Don't make up your mind until then. Please?"

There was just something about Chuck Bartowski that Bryce couldn't say no to. "Okay."

Chuck beamed. "Awesome. And no canceling because of work."

"Aye, aye, Agent Bartowski."

Chuck gave him a Look as he pulled his jacket back on. "I'm serious, Bryce. I'm glad you're okay. And so is Sarah. I think Casey might be too, though he'd never admit it."

Bryce huffed a weak laugh. "He probably just wants another crack at me."

Chuck smiled as they walked to the door. "You might be surprised. He's changed from the guy you knew."

"Hard to believe."

"It's been a long time."

"I guess it has."

"Tomorrow night," Chuck said as he headed out the door.

"Tomorrow night," Bryce agreed.

Chuck nodded and headed down the stairs. Bryce waited until he heard the front door shut behind the other man and then closed his own door. He sank onto his bed and rubbed his face through his hands. Those jagged edges were starting to cut again and he knew he wasn't going to get much sleep.

tbc…