A big thank you to those who read and reviewed the last chap. And an even bigger thank you in advance if you choose to stick with this fic after this chap. It's a weird one! But weird can be fun sometimes, yes? Yes! Alright, on with the chapter:

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Sarah.

He watches her through the store window and it's not completely unstalker-like, so, admittedly, even he's a little creeped out with himself. What he should do is walk inside and strike up a conversation, maybe order a yogurt while he's at it. And yet he's outside like a kid too scared to talk to his crush. A scenario Chuck knows all too well.

The truth is he's scared. He did something very wrong by snooping into Sarah's files, even if it was in a dream state. Her name is a secret that he knows about her now, and the pangs of guilt that accompany this forbidden knowledge alerts him to just how wrong it was to recover it. But it's not his fault that he snooped. Not consciously, at least.

The truth is all he wants to do is tell her is that he loves her. Staring at her now, it's all he can think about.

Ok, it's decided. He's going to go in there, tell her he loves her, and then maybe order a yogurt.

But before he can go from stalker to full blown lover boy Sarah looks up and catches his eyes. Chuck feels like an idiot for being caught staring. The only thing that would make him look more pathetic is being caught staring and drooling. He checks his mouth to make sure there isn't any moisture. Thankfully, no drool.

Sarah smiles and waves him over. He takes this as a good sign. He walks through the door and the little bell chimes above him like an encouraging song. Sarah hands a customer his change and then Chuck has her full attention. He mentally plans out the itinerary for this visit. One 'I love you' and a yogurt and then he'll be on his way.

"Hey," she says.

And if things are still in a weird place between them Chuck can't tell by the way she's smiling at him.

"Hey," he reciprocates. I know your name! he thinks.

"So tomorrow it's my turn with you at the shooting range."

"Yay. Great. Fun," he rattles off nervously. "Hey, you didn't speak to Casey by any chance, did you? Since last night, I mean."

"No." She says it slowly and her eyebrows settle into two inquisitive lines. "Why?"

"No reason." Because I know your name!

But Chuck doesn't know how to lie and, actually, his lying is so bad that it tips Sarah off immediately. She puts down the rag with which she was about to clean the countertop and fixes Chuck with a stare. "Chuck, is there something I need to know?"

Yes! His brain screams, I know your name! The intersect is feeding me top secret information through my dreams and in one of those dreams I asked you what your name was and you told it to me and now I know it and it feels like this big secret because it's something that you don't want me to know and I know it anyway and I feel so guilty so please don't be mad at me and we'll forget this whole thing ever happened. Ok?

"I love you."

Sometimes his brain and his mouth don't work together. It's the only way he knows how to explain that little outburst. "Also, can I get a medium raspberry melon explosion?"

'I love you' and a yogurt. He needs to start making better plans.

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It's nighttime and Chuck's sitting in a lawn chair in his old courtyard. He takes a gulp from his bottle of beer and turns to his companion sitting in the lawn chair next to him. It's something Chuck always wanted to do with him but just never got the chance. "Thanks for coming."

"Thanks for inviting me," Bryce replies. He and Chuck clink their beer bottles together in silence. "But what's with all the dancing terrorists?"

The terrorists from Casey's NSA's most wanted super list have finally made it into one of Chuck's dreams, and it seems that his subconscious mind wanted them dancing in tutus. He can't fathom why but it does make them a heck of a lot more entertaining. Chuck and Bryce sit pleasantly enthralled as the terrorists dance around the water fountain.

"I'm supposed to be looking for clues, I guess," Chuck says. "About where they might be hiding or how we might go about catching them. I don't really know how it works."

"Oh," Bryce says. Pointing, he adds, "And what about her?"

Sarah has found her way into this dream too. She's dancing, but not in a tutu. Chuck would never demean her like that by picturing her in a tutu. She's in a grass skirt instead.

"I have this thing for hula girls," Chuck admits sheepishly. "I used to have this little dancing hula—"

"Figurine. You kept it on your desk. I know, Chuck. We were roommates once, remember?"

"Right. Sorry."

Hula-dancing-Sarah makes her way between the two men, her hips swaying sensually from side to side. She touches them both on the shoulder as she passes them, smiling all the while.

"I told her I loved her," Chuck says.

"Good for you. How did it go?"

"She made me a yogurt and then I had to go back to the Buy More because my break was over."

"She didn't say anything back?"

"No. not a thing."

Bryce mirrors Chuck's frown. "She just needs some time. Sarah's not big on expressing her feelings. But I'm sure she loves you too." Chuck looks at him, wanting to believe him. "I'm sure she loves you," Bryce says again, hoping Chuck believes him too.

"Did she ever tell you she loved you?"

Bryce shakes his head. "I don't know if she's ever told anyone." And even though chuck knows that Bryce is just a figment of his imagination, something tells him this is true.

"Hey Chuck, quick question," Bryce says. "Why am I here?"

The pleasant disposition that had befallen Chuck through the dream is gone as he turns to Bryce in confusion. "Huh?"

"Why are you so obsessed with me?"

"Again, huh?"

"You haven't stopped thinking about me ever since I died. In fact, I think I've popped up in your thoughts at least once in every dream you've had since the new intersect. I'm dead. I shouldn't matter that much anymore."

"Bryce, come on," Chuck says, shooting him down. "Drink your beer."

"When you found out her name it wasn't just because you wanted to know something real about her--"

"Yes it was."

"--It was because you wanted to find out something that even I didn't know about her. Isnt that what it was really about? Because I got so much of her and in three years of knowing her you've got almost nothing. It isn't fair, but you've got to get over it, Chuck. You've got to stop obsessing about me."

"I'm not obsessed with you," Chuck assures him, chuckling like the mere notion is hilariously ludicrous. "I just want to be you." His laughing trails off, replaced by the sour taste of unwanted epiphany. He'd never admitted that to himself. And hearing it out loud doesn't make it any better.

Bryce has got an I knew it look on his face and that doesn't help matters either. "Well stop," he says. "You already are me."

"Huh?"

"You were uploaded with data that was meant for my brain, not yours. So guess what? You've taken over the throne. You wanted to be a big bad spy and now you've got the resources to do that. Congratulations."

"But I can't do the things you do. I can't even shoot a gun."

"It's a switch you have to turn on, Chuck. You think just because you pick up a gun you're a spy? Or a hunter? Or a killer? It doesn't work like that. Someone who picks up a paintbrush isn't automatically a painter. It's a mindset. This new intersect lets you be whatever you need to be. You just have to know how to use it."

"But… I have no clue how to use it."

"Ok, you know how sometimes you'll be asleep and dream that you're falling suddenly and you physically react to it? You know, you'll twitch or something? I once read somewhere that your body's already decided to have that involuntary twitch and that your brain provides this falling dream, like a cushion. If you fall for it—if you act like a spy—the intersect will provide that cushion for you.

"Oh," Chuck says, not sure he understands. "Turn on a switch and become a spy?"

Bryce nods and then leans over the side of his chair and Chuck takes it as a cue to listen carefully to what comes next, because what comes next is important. "But that's not what Sarah wants."

Now Chuck's more confused than ever. The only reason he ever wanted to be a spy at all was for Sarah. She wants the hero. Just like she wanted Bryce.

"How can you even say that? You were a spy and Sarah loved you. You were the kind of man she wanted."

"That was a long time ago. Things have changed. You're the kind of man she wants now."

"So now you're saying I shouldn't be a spy. I don't get you."

"I'm saying you need to find the balance. Sarah doesn't want the Hero- you were always wrong about that. But now that you're a spy you're her equal. That means something, Chuck," he says emphatically. "I guess the most important thing you have to ask yourself is, in terms of your relationship with Sarah, what's the biggest difference between being an asset and being a spy? What kind of license does that give you?"

License? Chuck tries to wrap his mind around what Bryce is trying to tell him, but something tells him that he needs to be awake to figure this whole thing out. The terrorists in tutus are too distracting. And so is Hula-dancing-Sarah. She winks at him and he can't help but blush.

"I think I need to wake up now," he tells Bryce. "I have an appointment with Sarah I have to get to. We're going to shoot paper people with guns. Can I ask you a personal question before I go?"

"Shoot."

"Did you and Sarah do it a lot?"

Bryce grins and takes another swig from his bottle. "Yep."

"Really?"

"Are you kidding me? All the time."

"Wait, this is my subconscious talking through you. You're only saying that because that's what I think."

"Ok then, ask me again."

"Did you and Sarah do it a lot?"

"Never."

"Ever get past first base?"

"She let me touch her boob once."

Chuck thinks about this. He's satisfied with the answer. "Ok."

He knows he's been having a whole conversation with, essentially, himself, since Bryce is very much dead and this is very much a dream. But still, he's glad for this time they had together."It was nice talking to you, Bryce. I miss this."

"Me too." Bryce smiles. "Good luck, Chuck."

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