AN: Written for a prompt: "Stolen Bits of Time"
It starts when Chuck notices Klingon martial arts in the Intersect.
More specifically, he finds himself USING Klingon martial arts on a mission.
He always knew in the abstract sense that the skills in the Intersect (2.0 version) were based on real things that real people did. Orion had explained the process - the 1028-point scan of what every part of the body did during anything from cooking to dancing to karate - added to the knowledge provided both from books and from interviews with top experts in every field Orion could think of. So Chuck knew that with the new Intersect, he was flashing on real people's experiences and know-how, not just files in a computer. But he didn't expect to be so suddenly confronted with Bryce.
Because Chuck was pretty darn sure that there was only one superspy who did a more dangerous version of the same old Klingon moves Bryce did in college.
Well, now with Chuck and his Intersect, that made two.
But then, if Bryce was dead, that still only made one.
But still... it was bizarre and surprising, and kind of a delight. He never really got a chance to ask about the time his father and Bryce spent together, but he imagined that Bryce must have pulled out all the charm to convince Orion that he needed Mok'bara in the Intersect. They turn out to be very effective in the mission, not that Chuck expected otherwise. But as soon as the mission is over, and the glee of thinking "That is AWESOME, Bryce" is passed, it sends Chuck into a melancholy.
It was like getting to spend a moment with Bryce, getting to travel back to their college days when they would play-fight before managing to tumble onto a bed. And it was also something new, almost like what it would be like if Chuck and Bryce ever got to work as partners. Fighting together by day, by night letting Bryce's experience guide his body's motions in a flurry of contact and power; in that moment of flash, Chuck almost got a taste of both sides of that imaginary life.
It was just another story of him and Bryce that Chuck kept wondering about, kept imagining, like the fantasies could make up for something. Like they could pass off a good memory as a kind of hope.
Little bits of stolen time, moments swirling around Chuck's mind, waiting to be plucked out and cherished and clung to desperately. Because even though the flashes were so fast, so eager to fade away, Chuck's fantasies and dreams just couldn't compare to the intimacy of becoming Bryce Larking for just a moment. And he didn't feel like any of the other skills he flashed on could change who he was, but knowing it was Bryce moving him, teaching him, rescuing him, making him strong... Chuck just had to feel like he became part of Bryce in those moments. Because why would Chuck want to feel something like that alone?
In the end, Chuck tells them it's a hunch. He doesn't tell them it was because for one shining moment, he was a badass Klingon warrior. He definitely doesn't tell them that after that kind of intimacy, all he wanted to do was follow Bryce wherever he may have gone. He tells the General that he is going undercover (unauthorized) to pursue the inquiry into Bryce's body, which disappeared 12 hours after he was confirmed dead. Everyone sees through him, knows that Chuck wants to believe that Bryce could be alive. They feel sorry for him, they think he is a fool, they try to convince and dissuade. Beckman cajoles and threatens and finally says that she can't stop him from taking time off if that's what he wants, but don't expect his job to be waiting for him. Casey is surprisingly kind, but doesn't lie: he says, "You're going to end up dead or disappointed, probably both. But you can call me if you need me." Sarah cries when she finally bursts out that there are a million things that could have happened to a body, but none of them mean that Bryce is ever coming back. She yells that Chuck is throwing himself away for a memory, that Sarah loved him too, but they SAW the body. They knew what happened. And the last thing she says before Chuck kisses her cheek and walks out, "I would ask you to stay except I don't want to hear you say you'd rather choose a ghost."
Bryce was never good at trusting anyone but Chuck. And Chuck, after Bryce's "betrayal" had a hard time learning to trust anything again. But Chuck had gotten there, had learned again to trust his memories, had learned that he wasn't wrong to open his heart to Bryce, to follow where his heart might take him. It had only taken the smallest of reminders to send Chuck on this path, but like a good Mok'bara move, the slightest force, applied in just the right place, can put any warrior where they need to be.