Notes: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed! This chapter was a bit of a pain to write and difficult to do as different plot threads tugged and pulled at me.
Part 10
Bryce opened the door to his apartment, ready to resume work on E's old contacts. He figured one of them might know something about why she would be hunted down and killed.
"It's always sad when an agent dies," a female voice pointed out smoothly.
Bryce pulled his gun and flicked on the light.
Tempest sat on the dining table. Her blond hair fluttered around her face and her glasses were gone, making her green eyes seem dark and serious.
"Tempest," Bryce greeted.
She smiled and tilted her head.
"Won't that get you into trouble, Mr. Ex-Con?" she purred, nodding towards the gun.
Bryce frowned but slipped the gun back into his waistband.
"What do you want?" he asked, curious.
"What do I want?" she questioned as if it was obvious. "I want your agents to stop following me. I can't do my job!"
"I don't have agents," Bryce pointed out. "I work for the FBI, not the other way around."
Tempest smiled, the corner of her mouth twitching up.
"You and I both know we're not talking about the FBI here."
"Still..." Bryce trailed off, letting her fill in the blanks.
"I'm willing to assist you in investigating your agent's death. Ellen, was it? Not her real name but close enough after all the years she spent in it."
"What? And why would you do that?"
Tempest made an unimpressed noise as she stood up and handed Bryce a file.
"My conditions are in there. If you agree, sign it and leave it at the drop point." She gathered up her bag and pulled it over her shoulder, giving him one last look before she left.
Bryce opened the file and read through it. It seemed like all she was really asking was that the CIA stay out of her business. He didn't trust her but that wasn't his call.
After submitting the files to Beckman, he waited as she patched him through to Carmichael Industries. Even though he had protested, she insisted that he talk with their Intersect specialist.
"Ellie?" he questioned when Chuck's older sister appeared on his screen. It was a surprise since he had been expecting Chuck.
"Surprised, Bryce?" she questioned with a smirk. He had a sudden feeling of impending doom. "I just wanted to check up and make sure there weren't any complications with the Intersect removal. Your file indicates that there have been failed attempts before."
Bryce thought back to the short fit he had at the apartment Mozzie had found. Neal had surfaced for a moment, or so it felt.
"I'm fine." He could handle it. Perhaps there were some old notes of Orion's he could locate or something.
"Good. So, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"
Bryce rubbed his forehead.
"Didn't you cover everything when you were last here?" he asked with a sigh.
"Busy day?" Ellie asked, pulling up a notebook. "Why don't you tell me about it?"
"Really? You really don't have better things to do than talk to me?"
"Possibly. However, Chuck likes to lament how the Intersect seems to keep coming back. Figured it's something to look into."
"Well, I have no idea why the Intersect came back."
"And that's what I'm trying to figure out. It could have something to do with neuro-pathways or with the nature of memory. Or it could have to do with the Intersect itself."
"Uh-huh." At least she sounded excited about it. On the other hand, Bryce found it difficult to be excited about something which had stolen years of his life and dropped him in the middle of the FBI.
Bryce sighed and put his pen down. A moment later, a coffee was placed before him.
"Keep it up, you're doing well," Diana encouraged.
Bryce smirked. He knew that Diana and Neal had a friendly comradery going. They liked to tease each other but would both take bullets for each other.
"Just shoot me now. It'd be kinder." Bryce put a little whine into his voice.
Bryce didn't know how he felt about Diana. She was tough but he was on edge any time he was near her. He didn't know what little comment, offhand remark or action might make her realise that he wasn't Neal.
Bryce's missions didn't last longer than six months, as he was smart and efficient. Plus, for most of those he was assuming a created identity, not one people had previously been exposed to. Being Neal was something he hadn't done before. Assuming someone else's identity for a long period of time and interacting with the people who knew that identity.
"Hey, Neal. Look over these numbers for me," Jones said, dropping a file on his desk.
Bryce picked it up and looked it over.
"Don't they pay you to do this?" Bryce questioned in a sceptical tone. This was the first time Jones had pulled this. Diana had handed him some of her work but with promises of coffee or a trade or even an afternoon at a museum, which he assumed Neal would have enjoyed.
"Come on, just check the numbers," Jones said, moving to his desk.
Bryce frowned.
"Think I can get an afternoon at the museum of modern art or something out of him?" he asked Diana as he glanced over the numbers.
His vision flickered. He blinked but it didn't go away. His head hurt.
Some of the numbers popped out at him. Accounts connected to someone the CIA had intel on.
But, they didn't know about this. The money this FBI suspect was sending him posed a threat to national security.
Bryce pulled out his phone with the comical thought that it must be Tuesday.
Peter stared at the young man sitting before him. His heart said 'Neal' but his head said 'not Neal, Bryce'. Bryce was looking at him with a slightly bored expression.
"You called in the CIA," Peter stated.
Bryce nodded, then added;
"Actually, I called Chuck. He made sure the right people got the information. Maybe even heading the task force himself."
Peter sighed and rubbed his forehead. How was it that Bryce could sound just like Neal, even though they were talking spies and agents and not cons and thieves?
"That's great. Except Jones now has to deal with the fallout of having the CIA take your case, even though they're not telling him that. They're not telling him anything really, just to stay out of it."
And being the ex-U.S. Naval Academy graduate he was, Jones was staying out of it. Or appearing to stay out of it. Peter knew that Diana was making very discrete inquiries on his behalf.
Bryce shrugged. Peter decided to try something.
"You called the CIA in so that Jones would be kept out of it." There; the twitch of a tell. "My agents don't need protection."
"I know that," Bryce responded. "But the CIA's been after this link for a while now."
Peter raised an eyebrow and Bryce shut his mouth with an annoyed frown.
So much like Neal. Except grumpier; okay, that was a little mean. Bryce was more serious, stoic instead of smiley.
"Anything else?" Bryce questioned with a wide-eyed innocent look. No smile though, just a small downwards tilt of his mouth.
"Just see me before you contact the CIA about one of our cases. That way, I can at least reassign the case to myself or something."
Bryce blinked, giving him Neal's baffled look.
"You're not going to tell me not to do it again?"
"Would you listen?" Peter suppressed an amused snort. "As long as someone collars them it's okay. Just, not too often; we have a good closure rate and I don't want it dropping because you think we FBI agents can't handle a few criminals. I'd like to keep my job."
"Right." Bryce nodded his agreement and left Peter's office. Peter frowned as Bryce planted a pen behind Jones' ear when he gave him a pat on the shoulder.
Opening the locked desk drawer, Peter pulled out a notebook and took out the bookmark he had stuck inside it. He tapped it on the desk and pulled the top film off, revealing the number underneath.
After an afternoon of contemplation, he spoke to his wife.
"You're just as bad as you were when we were dating," she laughed, taking the burner phone he picked up and the number from him, dialling it with the quick skill of an event planner.
"Hey Chuck, my husband wants to speak with you. It's about Bryce." She handed the phone back over to her baffled, but reminded of why he married this woman, husband.