So, this one is a twins story

Neal breaks out of supermax just a bit earlier. Peter wonders why. Chuck does not freak out at Bryce's funeral when Bryce's clone appears. Sarah does the sensible thing and try to talk with Neal.

One last time in anger

Special Agent Burke of the FBI was standing in the deserted cell of Neal Caffrey, convicted forger and more-than-probably-a-dozen-of-other-criminal-titles-which-for-now-remained-only-alleged.

Special Agent Peter Burke of the White Collar task force of New York's FBI offices was standing in Neal Caffrey's cell, in which Neal Caffrey wasn't anywhere to be found, and Peter Burke could feel the growing headache.

The point of all that being, obviously, that Neal Caffrey's cell in this supermax prison wasn't supposed to be deserted, considering that Neal Caffrey hadn't finished his sentence. In other words, Caffrey was supposed to be here, as always, and he wasn't. Which meant, the convict had broken out of a supermax prison.

Six months before the end of his time.

Which, frankly, made no sense.

When Peter thought about the fact that Caffrey had been in supermax only because he was a very high flight risk, and not because he actually belonged in a supermax with dangerous criminals, the agent could only say the choice had been made for nothing. The fact that Caffrey was out was enough of a testimony: the man had stayed there only because he allowed it to happen.

Peter listened intently as the prison director explained how Caffrey had taken the leave right under their nose. It did explain how, but it still did not explain why.

And to catch Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke wasn't counting on a mistake from the younger man. No, what he needed, right now, was to understand Caffrey's goal in escaping only six months before the end of his four-years sentence. There had to be an explanation, because the convict wasn't stupid.

Hell, he was one of the most intelligent people Peter had ever met.

A shame he was operating on the wrong side of the law.

Though Peter did appreciate going after a criminal who was doing his best never to get anyone injured, whose felonies didn't leave broken victims but rather victims who were only angry; who, simply put, wasn't a bad guy.

He might even feel a bit bad at the thought that someone like Neal Caffrey had been sentenced to four years in jail because of his intervention, when ruthless people with a lot less morals could get away from facing the consequences of their acts because they had more power than the kid.

Just a bit, though. Caffrey was a criminal, after all. Only, a more savory one than most.

With the escapee's yet-unknown goal in mind, Peter asked to see the surveillance videos the prison had on the younger man from the last month, to try and pick out the time something had changed, which would possibly be the time the kid had decided to escape.

Watching Caffrey's beard growing backwards as the screen went back in time was entertaining.

Seeing the large bruises on the man's jaw and cheek for the last five days wasn't.

"What exactly happened for him to be in this state?"

A warden winced, and pulled out another video, from the canteen this time. It showed Caffrey responding to another felon's, who had at least four inches over the younger man, taunt. The scene degenerated into a fight quickly enough, and by the time the wardens intervened, Caffrey had been hit twice in the face, and once in the guts. Surprisingly, he had also managed to get the other guy off him with a rough elbow in the stomach.

"Did he often got into fights?"

While it wouldn't be the first time a non-violent criminal changed drastically with jail time, Peter thought he'd remember seeing it in the man's file, but nothing came to mind. From what he remembered, Caffrey had gotten almost four years of peace in the prison, astonishing as it sounded. With a face like this, and with his non-violent tendencies... It was a wonder Neal Caffrey hadn't been the victim of abuse. Not that Peter liked to think about it. Caffrey did have to do his time.

Unless, of course, the kid had found a powerful protector right away. More than likely, in fact. If there was one con artist Peter'd think of to make four years in supermax into holidays with only smooth-talking, it was Caffrey.

"Never. He made best buddies with most of the top criminals around here by painting them portraits of their visitors and family members, and possibly arranging a few 'conversations' between the inside and the outside, 'allegedly', of course. This came as a surprise."

The warden heard Peter mutter an "allegedly" back, before the special agent sighed.

"Alright. So, in light of recent events, the fight was most likely staged. By the time Caffrey got out of solitary confinement, he was still bruised, his beard was more than a little gruff. He somehow got his hands on some top notch concealer to hide the bruises, he shaved, meaning the wardens didn't recognize him when he walked out of the prison wearing a warden uniform. And now, he's out."

It at least explained the beard.

And for the bruises... Caffrey had had to be on a tight schedule, or else Peter didn't think he'd have resorted to getting himself hurt. He'd just have waited for the beard to be longer, for the wardens to be more accustomed to his new looks, before reverting back to his former ones.

"Show me when he first stopped shaving."

They watched the morning feeds a bit longer, and Peter finally settled on a saturday two weeks ago. He asked to know if anything had happened the day before, and saw a warden fidget awkwardly.

The FBI agent slowly raised his eyebrows at the man, waiting for an explanation.

The director turned around, and looked at the warden too.

"Well, Matthews?"

"The... The day before, a lawyer came to me at my house, and said I had to inform one of the inmates that a 'Bryce' had been killed in duty. It didn't seem like dangerous info, and it wasn't directed at Caffrey, but..."

Peter didn't stay to discover what would happen to the warden, because he had better things to do right now. Like, catching up on Caffrey, discovering who this "Bryce" was, and clearing this mess up. Besides, as Matthews had said, it wasn't as if he had given the convict anything dangerous. He'd get away mostly unscathed...

Now, Peter had no idea who this "Bryce" was, but for Caffrey to bolt out of supermax this quick...

The FBI still had no idea as to Neal Caffrey's past, before his eighteenth birthday. Peter had a feeling "Bryce" was either a family member, or a very close friend, from before the black hole of the FBI's ignorance. Because if he had been killed in duty, there were few chances the man was a friend from Caffrey's criminal time.

oOo

Chuck Bartowski and Sarah Walker were sitting next to each other at Bryce Larkin's second funeral. Which may sound strange, but well, when you had a supersecret computer in your head and your life included spies and confidential missions out of the blue, it wasn't such a stretch for someone not to be as dead as they said the first time around. Chuck wasn't even surprised anymore by the fact that it was the second time he was present at Bryce's funeral.

He was even starting to believe Bryce would just rise out of his coffin and tell them it was only a false alarm, again, because death didn't stick onto him.

Chuck also knew that if he said that to Sarah, she'd make sure to remind him miracles didn't happen twice, and he was only fooling himself. She'd even be harsher than usual, because she had liked Bryce for some time too, and she was taking his second death just as bad as the first.

Bryce being dead a recognized hero this time wasn't any kind of comfort, to either of them.

At first, General Beckman hadn't been too eager to give Bryce a proper funeral this time around, but Chuck had convinced her that no one would ask about it if his friend was buried in Burbank, where no one except them knew him.

Or, more likely, Chuck had begged her ear off and the general had relented only because that'd make him feel somewhat indebted, meaning he'd be easier to manipulate when needed.

The results being that Sarah and Chuck were now at Bryce Larkin's funeral, again, with a bunch of other CIA agents who did not give the chills to Chuck. Not at all.

Casey hadn't come, of course. He had simply grunted. Which wasn't that surprising, given the number of times the NSA agent had shot at Bryce in the past.

The burying would begin soon, they knew. It was unlikely anyone else would come for the funeral.

Or, that was what Chuck thought until he heard the high-pitched screeching of a car being stopped in a rush, just next to them. All the ex-military / dangerous-eitherway people present tensed visibly at the sight of the yellow Ferrari that was half parked, half abandoned on the road, probably expecting someone with a machine gun to get out and shower them with bullets.

Just, you know, the usual day in Chuck's life.

Only it wasn't a man with a machine gun who got out of the Ferrari, but a young man with a bruised face, a yellow windbreaker, and absolutely no weapon. A young man who, Chuck thought he ought to point out, was Bryce Larkin.

Everyone still had a hand on their weapon, except Chuck who, obviously, had no weapon, but other than that, no one did a thing as the stranger strode purposefully, with much anger in his steps, to the coffin. A coffin in which, Chuck couldn't help himself from thinking, the man should be in right now. Because that was Bryce, there was no other explanation.

The man looked like Bryce, walked with Bryce's determination, and had Bryce's hard expression right now. Perhaps it was only a "right now" something, perhaps in everyday life he wasn't like that, but in this moment, in this situation, the stranger was Bryce Larkin for all purpose.

The stranger shed off the yellow windbreaker as he walked, only to let appear a prison warden's uniform underneath, which may seem strange at first, but Chuck had learned, during the last two years, not to question things too much if he wanted to remain sane.

Chuck's eyes were glued to the purple bruises on the man's face and jaw, as he tried to remember if he had ever seen Bryce hurt, other than that one last time...

The stranger stopped at the coffin, heaved the lid, and sucked in a breath.

Of course, Bryce's body was still in there. Bryce n°2 wasn't Bryce Larkin, Chuck shouldn't even have questioned that. He almost looked away, unable to see his dead friend one more time. But Chuck's eyes snapped back up at the stranger's face, who, him, looked harder than even before, his blue eyes cold with fury. The man stayed unmoving for about a minute, and Chuck wondered what he was thinking about. It was better than to look back at Bryce.

Were they twins? It seemed likely, but how had the stranger learned of the funeral anyway? Bryce's family hadn't been notified of his second death, as they hadn't known him to be alive again...

The stranger sneered quietly, and shut the coffin closed, again.

Then, to Chuck's horror, he literally spat on the coffin.

"See what it got you, brother, to walk on the right side of the line!"

Oh God, he even sounded like Bryce!

Before anyone thought to say a word, the stranger stomped away from the coffin, Bryce's eternal emotionless face on, and sat down on a chair in the grass, arms crossed, not open for discussion.

The CIA agents at the funeral visibly relaxed, though they still shot uneasy glances at the Larkin twin, as surprised as Chuck and Sarah apparently were. Chuck hesitated a moment, willing to go and talk to the stranger, perhaps say to him that his brother had died a hero, but he wasn't sure he'd want to hear that from the guy Bryce had previously saved and lost his life for at the same time.

Eventually, Chuck chickened out and went to clean up the coffin, because it was easier to deal with the spit of Bryce's twin than with Bryce's twin himself.

By the time Chuck came back from cleaning duty, which took much more time than you'd think, especially as Chuck did not want to come back, he saw Sarah standing next to the chair with Bryce's twin on it. Next to the chair, and not to Bryce n°2, obviously.

Ah, crap, perhaps Chuck should stop pretending there wasn't a Bryce clone sitting grumpily in the graveyard.

So he walked, slowly, very slowly, to Sarah, and, subsequently, to Bryce's twin.

He did wonder if the stranger was as dangerous as his twin brother, and if he would hold a grudge that he hadn't managed to save Bryce despite everything Bryce had done for Chuck. He hoped not.

Not that the Larkin twin would ever know the confidential situation in which his brother had died. Unless, of course, Chuck did babble in awkwardness at some point. He did tend to do that when he got nervous. Was he nervous right now?

Fortunately, Sarah was here to ensure he didn't do something like spilling out confidential info.

Right?

oOo

Neal Caffrey, also known as Neal Bennett, Danny Brooks, Nick Halden, George Devore, and a few dozens other aliases, kept his eyes stubbornly fixed on his brother's coffin. Bryce Larkin, also known as Bryce Bennett, Devon Brooks, and a few other, CIA-approved legends such as Bruce Anderson, was lying in there, again, and once more dying for his country; and while Neal could understand dedicating one's life to the protection of others, he seriously thought Bryce should have listened to him one year ago, after his first death, and left it alone. Dying once for the Agency had to be enough of a sacrifice.

But no, no! Bryce was stubborn and disgustingly devoted to his spy work, no matter the dangers involved. Perhaps he thought he had to continue, now that his hands had been stained by his very duty. It wouldn't surprise Neal if that was the reason.

Not that he could really judge Bryce, considering his own life decisions weren't exactly safe either. If Neal didn't use violence himself, it wasn't always the case of the people he dealt with or conned.

Still, Neal did try not to get in a situation where he could be shot to death. Unlike Bryce.

Bryce did it, twice. As if once wasn't enough.

Neal may have glared a bit too much at the other attendees, especially for someone who had gotten there late, barely in time for the burying. But he had an excuse, that said other attendees would soon learn if the special agent Peter Burke was as good at his job as Neal thought.

He hadn't exactly been trying to cover his trail after breaking out of supermax, too focused on hurrying to get there in time. He hadn't shed off the warden's uniform, nor the windbreaker because he had had other things to think about. Such as, Bryce's death. Again.

He had just been cautious enough for the FBI or the marshalls not to get ahead of him.

At this point, Neal didn't care if he was going back for a full sentence once they'd get him. He had had to be there for Bryce's funeral, especially as he hadn't been able to come the first time around. And he couldn't exactly ask for a prison leave, when no one had a clue he had a twin brother.

Both brothers had decided it that way, apparently. Keeping each other out of their life, so that their enemies wouldn't come after the other one. The CIA obviously knew that Devon Brooks had a missing twin brother, as, unlike Neal, Bryce had used the proper channels to get out of WITSEC and get a new name. But they didn't know Neal Caffrey was this twin brother.

During the last years, Bryce and Neal had only seen each other a handful of times.

Neither approved of the other's choice of career.

Neal had ended up in jail, so he could understand why Bryce didn't approve, though he could have broken out way sooner had he wished to. But as Bryce was the one who was dead, Neal still thought he had been more justified to complain about Bryce's job than Bryce had been about his.

Stupid Bryce.

Stupid, dead Bryce.

Neal glared at the coffin once more, and didn't move from the chair he was sitting on. Agent Burke and the marshalls shouldn't be too long, and Neal had no intention to go on the run just after Bryce's funeral. He really didn't see the point, not when Bryce's idiocy would suck all the fun out of the run.

He also ignored the constant ache in his ribs and face. He had asked for the beating, after all.

One more thing to blame on Bryce.

"Are you Bryce's brother?"

Neal didn't look away from the coffin, not even to get a look at the blond young woman who had just talked. She, as well as about everyone at this funeral, except perhaps the gangly, nerdy kid who was cleaning Bryce's coffin right now, was CIA. He could see it in the way she seemed relaxed, but only at first glance. Ready to fight back if anything happened, but not too obvious. Bryce had been the same.

"No, I'm his clone from a parallel universe."

She seemed to ignore his sarcastic answer, perhaps for the better. Neal was angry enough for the two of them.

"The one who ran away, Danny?"

Neal snorted, finally understanding that there had been more than a colleagues relationship between the agent and Bryce. If Bryce had told her about his runaway older brother, it had to be more.

"Technically, I did not run away. An eighteen years old is totally entitled to get the hell out of Dodge and never contact their family again. And my name is Neal. 'Danny' was my WITSEC name."

She didn't seem to have an answer to that, even if Neal could see her tense at the mention of WITSEC, even if he only watched her from the corner of his eye. He wasn't going to stop glaring at Bryce's coffin just like that, and was observant enough to manage, even with a CIA agent to decode.

Eventually she settled on asking another question, one he had been waiting for.

"How did you know about the funeral?"

"He came and found me one year ago, and left with a mean to contact me if it had to happen again."

Not that it had been terribly difficult for Bryce to find Neal while he had been in jail, but he wasn't going to tell her that. She'd know soon enough.

Gangly-Nerdy came around just as the burying actually started. It stopped him from saying whatever he had been mustering courage to say. The two CIA somethings, because if the blond woman was an agent, Neal seriously doubted the kid was too, went to stand next to the coffin as it was descended into the ground. Neal stayed on his chair, repressing a scowl at his idiot brother.

Things went on in silence, and the various people were about to leave when several government-issued vehicles made their way in the cemetery. All the CIA eyes followed the US marshals cars as they quietly pulled over. There was also a FBI-black car, not that the color was actually indivative.

Neal didn't even bother with a look at the cars, as he glared at the freshly closed grave where his brother's coffin had disappeared.

A man stepped out of the FBI car, looked around to assess the situation, sighed deeply as his eyes fell on the back of Neal's head, and moved to join the escaped convict. He did spare more than a glance to the Ferrari Neal had borrowed before that, though.

There was a deep silence as FBI Special Agent Burke went to stand right next to Neal Caffrey, eyes locked on the fresh grave as if it'd explain everything.

Neal did spare a quick look at the agent.

Then he went back to glaring at Bryce's grave, even as Peter Burke started interrogating him.

"You carrying?"

Neal snorted at that, especially as the CIA agents around, about whom Burke knew nothing, gave him a newly suspicious look for the questioning. As if having a bunch of marshals crashing the end of a funeral hadn't been enough of a hint that he wasn't only Bryce Larkin's twin brother.

"Obviously not, Agent Burke. I'm non-violent, remember? And eitherway, the only one I'd like to shoot right now for his stupidity, is already dead."

Burke's mouth quirked, but he didn't let anything else show of his amusement.

"So, they pulled you out of your current cases to come after me?"

"No, I pulled myself out. It took us three years to get to you the first time around, and I didn't want a repeat. Now, Caffrey, if you could explain what the hell went through your mind for you to walk right out of a supermax prison only six months before your time was up, I'd appreciate."

Neal could see the way a few of the CIA agents narrowed their eyes at him, as if fully appreciating his blood ties with CIA agent Bryce Larkin for the first time, while registering that Larkin's twin was a criminal who bolted out of supermax whenever he wanted.

The escapee gave the grave a dry smile and a vague gesture.

"This, Agent Burke, is my twin's grave. Or, actually, the second one, because things are weird like that in the CIA. Apparently Agent Bryce Larkin died in a bank robbery two years ago, but he still managed to get himself killed two weeks ago, again. I'll point out my faked deaths were more entertaining than bank robbery. I did get eaten by a shark once, if you recall."

Burke didn't fall for the bluff, though. Not that calling Neal out on this lie was really difficult; people often downplayed their grief when a family member died.

"You do realize this stunt will probably cost you another four years?"

Neal waved the concern away.

"Or you could get me a CI release status. You do need help on this Matisse forgery you're working on, you know. And I need something to take my mind off my dead twin brother."

Burke tried to get out of him how he knew about his latest case, but Neal's lips were sealed.