Let the Pieces Fall
From Huntress79:
What if Bryce didn't die the way he did on the show? What if he was right in the middle of a CIA job when it happened (or at least that was everybody thought)? To get the job done nonetheless, Sarah and Chuck contact Neal, who just got released into Peter's custody. How do they explain it to Peter that they need Neal to finish the job? Do they even explain? And how will Neal react when all of a sudden Bryce shows up, looking really alive?
Additional notes: Neal knows the team (Sarah, Chuck, Casey, Morgan); set in WC Season 1, so the dynamics between Peter and Neal are still a bit rough. Got the idea from the movie "Bad Company", where Chris Rock plays the twin part.
Notes: Takes place between season 2 and 3 of Chuck and Season 1 of White Collar.
Chuck flinched as the gun went off and Bryce tumbled off the bridge and into the water. This was the bridge where he had taken Sarah on their first date and he didn't think he could ever see it the same way.
"No!" he cried a moment later when his friend's demise finally reached his brain. "Bryce!" He dashed to the water's edge but couldn't see a body. It didn't matter because he was pulled away a moment later.
He should have flashed, he needed to flash. Dmitri Orlov threw him to the ground.
"Goodbye, Agent Carmichael," he said aiming the gun at him.
"Chuck!" Just in time, Sarah appeared. Her golden hair fanned out behind her as she ran over to them and fired a shot.
Dmitri dodged and then ran off. Sarah fired a few more shots and then moved to check whether Chuck was okay.
"Bryce," Chuck whimpered, the image of his friend's body jolting and then falling over the edge of the bridge flashing before his eyes.
"What?" Sarah questioned, looking around. There was no sign of Bryce. Her mind put the pieces together slowly. Bryce and Chuck had been walking together and only Chuck was here now.
"He... shot. He-he fell into the water," Chuck chocked out, trying his hardest not to cry.
Like Chuck, Sarah moved to the edge of the bridge to check.
"We have to report this," she said, her voice impassive. She could cry later. "Bryce was supposed to meet with the mark tomorrow. They know what he looks like."
Chuck nodded and reached out a hand so that she could help him out.
"The man, the one who killed him, he's Dmitri Orlov," Chuck said, rubbing at his eyes and wishing to be able to slip under the covers of his bed and cry. Or have Bryce back; it hadn't sunk in that he was gone. Bryce was the guy who sent him the Intersect, who saved his life and who convinced him to continue to be a spy.
They both joined the new Intersect project together and both received the Intersect 2.0. Bryce was his spy trainer and the only guy other than Morgan who Chuck could fight with, knowing that they would be able to make up.
And now he was gone.
"I understand that you're grieving," General Beckman said, "but, this meet needs to happen. Jamison Sangster has ties to the Ring Organisation, we need his intel."
"General, Jamison has already met with Bryce once," Sarah reminded her, "we can't change who we send in without arousing suspicion."
"Doesn't Bryce have a double?" Casey suggested.
The General nodded and shuffled some papers on her desk.
"Neal Caffrey," she informed them, "he's currently working for the FBI as a confidential informant. He will replace Agent Larkin on this mission."
"But, Bryce didn't want his brother involved in the spy life," Chuck said. His eyes were visibly red and, unlike Sarah, he hadn't tried to hide it with makeup.
The General sighed and tried to put this gently;
"Agent Larkin isn't here," she said, "he's left us with a job to finish. So, let's finish it."
Hughes gave Neal the double finger-point the moment he walked through the doors. Peter and Neal shared a look before walking side-by-side down the bullpen.
Hughes held up a hand to stop them and pointed to Neal.
'Just me?' he mouthed, pointing to himself. Hughes nodded.
This was new. Every time Hughes spoke to him, Peter had been there. Neal could count the number of conversations he had with just Hughes on one hand.
"Sir?" he asked as he walked into the old man's office. He was nervous, although it didn't show on his face. He didn't smile though; he didn't think Hughes would appreciate it.
"Sit down," Hughes said. Once Neal was seated, he explained, "another agency has requested your services for a few days."
Neal raised an eyebrow. He had been under the impression that he would only be working with the FBI in the White Collar division.
"May I ask, which agency, sir?"
"The CIA," Hughes stated.
"The..." That didn't make any sense. The CIA had Bryce.
Unless something had happened. Something in Neal's gut clenched.
"Do you know why?" he asked, his mouth suddenly feeling dry.
Hughes shook his head.
"Which is why I'm approaching this with caution," he said, "Caffrey, do you know any reason the CIA would request you?"
"The FBI hired me," Neal deflected in a nonchalant tone, "maybe they recognise my skills."
"No games, Caffrey," Hughes said, "why would the CIA request you?"
"I don't know," Neal responded.
"Then, I'm sending Agent Burke with you," Hughes concluded, handing him an envelope. "Your plane tickets are in there and your flight leaves in three hours."
Neal nodded his agreement and left.
Peter wasn't happy about the flight to Burbank. They got out of work early but he had to go home, pack and then pick up Neal from June's so they could go to the airport. El was at work, so he had to explain what was going on over the phone. It was a busy few hours but, Peter still noticed how quiet Neal was.
There was something going on there and the last thing Peter needed was for Neal to pull something while working with the CIA.
Like telling the taxi driver to take them to Echo Park apartments instead of to the hotel.
"Peter please," Neal had said, almost begging, "there's someone here I need to speak with."
"Neal-"
"He'll be able to give us more information why the CIA wants us," Neal added.
"Really?" Peter questioned sceptically. He wondered whether Neal was making that up in order to get him to agree.
"Look, if I'm wrong, then we'll go straight to the hotel," Neal bargained, "but, if I'm right, we'll be able to stay here the night."
Peter frowned but, he was too tired to put up a fight. Flying always tired him out as there were always too many people around for him to feel completely comfortable. He would have said that Neal looked just as tired but, aside from being a little more subdued than usual, you wouldn't have known that he had spent the past 6 hours sitting in an enclosed space.
Surprisingly enough, Neal hadn't even complained about being in Business Class and not First Class.
Peter mused on that as he collected his luggage from the taxi and quickly paid the driver, giving him a good tip because he couldn't wait for change as Neal was heading in without him.
Neal knew exactly where he was going, storming right up to a door on the far side, placing his suitcase on the ground and banging on the door.
Peter waited anxiously as the door opened and the person inside got a good look at them. He looked normal enough, with dark eyes and slightly curly hair, wearing a white shirt and black pants. The only thing off about this man was the darkness around his eyes, he looked like he hadn't sleep properly in a while. Then again, white collar criminals rarely looked like criminals, like Neal.
"Neal."
"Chuck."
Peter raised his eyebrows as they embraced. So, Neal hadn't lied about knowing someone here. Chuck glanced at him and he held out his hand.
"Nice to meet you," Peter said, "I'm Special Agent Peter Burke, FBI. I'm also Neal's handler."
He watched Chuck's reaction. He looked surprised but not shifty or fearful. Maybe there wasn't anything illegal going on here.
"I'm Chuck," he responded, shaking Peter's hand slowly. Then he moved out of the way and invited them in. "Does Sarah know you've arrived?"
"No," Neal responded, "we came right here."
Chuck moved back, towards the couch.
"You'll want to sit down," he said and Peter had a sense of foreboding. It probably didn't help that Chuck wasn't looking at Neal and his eyes were sparkling with unshed tears.
Peter could see that Neal was about to stubbornly choose to stand so he moved forward, placed his hand on Neal's shoulder and guided him towards the couch. Then, he sat down while pulling Neal with him.
"I would like to know why we're here," Peter commented.
Chuck sunk down onto the coffee table in front of them.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice heavy with emotion, "Bryce is dead."
Peter had never seen Neal like this. There was no sign of the invincible conman now. Neal hid his tears behind a pillow, pressing his face into it like he was going to sleep, and curled up on the couch, his head lying next to Peter as his body shuddered with sobs. He didn't even seem to care that his pants had crinkled and his anklet was visible.
Peter had come here worried about Neal using it as an opportunity to escape, he even had his 'I own him for four years so you better return him' speech all ready for the CIA, but, seeing Neal now, he didn't know what to think. His hand alternated between just touching Neal's back and running through his hair, offering what little comfort he could.
"If you told me a year ago that I'd be curled up on a couch with Neal Caffrey, I would have said you were crazy," Peter commented quietly when Chuck brought them blankets.
"He's not bad," Chuck responded as he threw a blanket over Neal's curled up body. "He's actually more considerate than Bryce." Chuck's bottom lip trembled as he said that.
Peter nodded even though he didn't understand. He hadn't met Bryce like Neal and Chuck had. All he could do was try and respect the fact that they had recently lost someone close to them.
He really wished El was here. She was better at this. He didn't have any idea what to say or do to make it better.
He slept upright that night and awoke the next morning with a crick in his neck and ache in his lower back.
If it hadn't been for Peter, the mission could have ended badly.
Sarah took one look at Neal, offered her condolences and then became all business. Chuck quietly told Peter that this was her way of mourning and that she really wanted to get this guy; for Bryce.
Neither she nor Chuck could look at Neal for very long. Casey, the only one in the team who appeared unaffected by Bryce's death, could. Thankfully for Peter, because Casey seemed almost as weary as Peter's team when it came to Neal.
But, Neal's meet with Jamison Sangster went awry. Yes, Jamison thought Neal was Bryce but, he had been hired by Dmitri Orlov to draw the agent out. Peter clued in the moment Jamison mentioned how robust Bryce must be in order to survive being shot. He grabbed his gun and was about to head out when Casey stopped him.
They believed Neal could handle himself. Peter knew that Neal wasn't himself. He had been quiet and spent a good part of the morning locked in the bathroom with a damp towel over his face.
"Care to try again?" Neal taunted Jamison and it was like all the air had been sucked out of the van. Even Casey paused.
In that moment, Peter spotted someone entering through the back door. When he moved this time, no one stopped him. They didn't move until he had burst through the door with his gun at the ready, eager to protect his CI.
He shot Dmitri in the shoulder as the man had a gun and held his weapon up to Jamison as a fully armed Casey came in with Sarah behind him.
Almost as if a switch had been flipped, Neal's conman smile faded and his stance lost all its energy.
It hurt to watch. Gratefully, his phone beeped with a message a moment later. It was a location.
"Neal," he called out, "there's somewhere I want to go."
Neal gave him a tired but quizzical look.
It was difficult but, Peter managed to talk Chuck, Sarah and Casey into coming with him, under the pretext of borrowing their van. They had to wait until the scene was secured but he didn't mind.
"Westside Medical?" Chuck questioned when they pulled up, "why are we here?"
Peter remained silent. He was probably going to give them a shock, but he didn't know how to explain this or even if they would believe him.
Chuck stopped him as he tried to leave.
"Uh, my sister doesn't know about the spy stuff, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention the CIA or anything related to it here."
"Alright."
"Neal?"
"Lying to your sister about being CIA is a bad idea," Neal said and Peter wondered if he was being hypocritical or was speaking from experience. Maybe both.
"Neal?"
"Fine," Neal said shortly, "I won't mention it."
"So, why are we here?" Casey grumbled.
Peter didn't respond, he just jumped out and started walking towards the building, turning back to check that they were following him.
Peter flashed his badge at the receptionist. Jones knew his boss well as he had told her that he was coming. She showed them to a certain room at the ICU where a certain person was unconsciously resting while recovering from a bullet wound.
"He's finally well enough that we can consider moving him to a regular room," she explained, "but it was touch-and-go for a while."
"Thank you," Peter said, dismissing her and he glanced back.
Neal had his hand on the glass, pale as a ghost. His other hand was tightly clutched around Chuck's. Chuck's other hand was holding Sarah's.
Casey took one look into the room, gave an amused grunt and possibly pleased grunt, before walking back the other way.
"Larkin, more lives than a cat," he commented. Peter had thought that about Neal once or twice.
"He's alive," Neal gasped as Peter joined them.
"Thank goodness," Sarah added, placing a forehead on the glass.
"How did you find him?" Chuck asked, his eyes lit with wonder.
Peter was hesitant to explain. Technically, what he had done was a misappropriation of FBI resources but, it wasn't the first time he had done it; putting his wife under surveillance when they first met in order to check if she was single came to mind.
"I asked another agent," only Jones because he couldn't trust anyone else not to ask questions, "to check with all the hospitals and medical facilities in this area for someone matching Neal's description."
Neal's mouth opened in a little 'o'.
"Peter, I think I've corrupted you," he commented with a ghost of a smile. It was the closest he had come to a real smile since this whole thing started.
"Hardly," he responded, grasping Neal's shoulder. "Should I arrange a hotel or are we staying here?"
"You can stay with me," Chuck quickly offered, "I promise that you won't have to sleep on the couch."
"Neal?" Peter asked because anywhere Neal went, he went; at least until they were back in New York and Neal's radius.
Neal took one last look at Bryce's figure, so like his and surrounded by tubes and machines, and agreed to Chuck's offer.
