Author's Note:

Some things before we start. This is an AU. It follows the series, but it is an AU.

For the few of you who may be interested, this explores what it might have been like for Bryce to be a part of Team Bartowski from the start, as well as exploring Bryce finding another way in senior year. So, very Bryce positive.

That out of the way, the fic begins.


It all started on Chuck's birthday. Well, technically it started quite a few years before that at Stanford, but that was just asking for the beginning to be way more complicated than it really needed to be. So, Chuck's twenty sixth birthday. A wonderful occasion, for most people.

In true Bartowski fashion, his big sister Ellie had arranged a birthday party for him. A party where the only people he knew were his best friend, Morgan, his sister and Captain Awesome. The rest of the guests were Ellie and Awesome's doctor friends. The kind of people who would intimidate him even if they came to the Nerd Herd for help with a computer problem. The kind of ridiculously high achieving, good looking people that could be summed up just by pointing at Captain Awesome. The kind of people who were a complete social opposite to nerds like him and Morgan. Which is why Chuck felt that he couldn't entirely be blamed for trying to escape ninja-like from his bedroom window.

Unfortunately, Ellie - because she was as awesome as Awesome - caught him and Morgan in their daring escape attempt, banished Morgan from the party (some people had all the luck) and dragged Chuck back out into the throng of people he had absolutely nothing in common with. Chuck knew he should be grateful that his sister cared enough to try and set him up with beautiful, single medical professionals, but he really just wanted to sit down and play more Call of Duty. Real, live women were great and all, it was just that Chuck rapidly developed a case of saying the worst possible thing. Also known as, telling the truth.

Real, live women, it turned out, were not impressed with a tech nerd who worked at a Buy More. They were really not impressed by hearing about his marathon Call of Duty sessions with Morgan. His Stanford education was the one thing that did impress a real, live woman - it impressed Chuck too, despite his status as chief nerd of the Nerd Herd. It wasn't exactly what he'd imagined for himself during his last year at Stanford, but it was stable.

"I graduated in '02!" Stanford Doctor announced perkily. "What was your major?"

"Engineering." Even now Chuck had to smile a little remembering it. Those really were the best years of his life. Coding his own version of Zork, playing Gotcha in the library, planning for the millennia of the Geek.

"Oh my God," she cried, grey-blue eyes growing impossibly wider. "I knew this great guy. He was an engineer, he ran track. I think he was a gymnast too."

Chuck looked down at the cobbled ground, heart growing heavy in his chest. A track running engineer who also was a gymnast? He knew exactly who that great guy was.

"Bryce Larkin," he recalled, voice a monotone. A flash of blue eyes and a Hollywood worthy smile appeared in his mind. "He was my roommate."

"Oh, yes," the latest in a line of real, live women who Chuck would not be seeing again recalled. "What's he doing now?"

And that was the million dollar question, wasn't it? The truth was, Chuck had absolutely no idea. They'd completely lost touch the minute he'd carried his boxes out of their shared frat house. Bryce hadn't even bothered to send him a Facebook friend invite. But that was fine. Chuck absolutely did not care.

"I think he's an accountant." Least sexy profession in the world. Take that, Larkin.

"So, do you have a girlfriend?" Stanford Doctor asked curiously.

Chuck's heart twisted uncomfortably in his chest. "Yeah, I did. At Stanford. Her name was Jill." The girl of his dreams at the best time of his life. Chuck met his companion's uninterested gaze and sighed. "She dumped me the day before graduation, walked right out the door to have dinner with- well, not me."

Five years ago, he'd had it all. A great girlfriend, the best best friend anyone could ever have asked for, a job lined up, a five year plan that didn't need constant font alterations. Now, he had Morgan and Ellie, his job at the Buy More. But he didn't have Jill or Bryce or any of it.

And telling people so? It turned out that was a downer. In true Chuck Bartowski fashion, he bummed out everyone at his party until he ended up back in his bedroom, watching Morgan play video games.

.

.

Somewhere top secret and definitely not a birthday party filled with real, live women, Bryce Larkin (definitely not an accountant) was having an equally not awesome night. Dropping from a ceiling vent onto cold white tile with a bleeding head wound, covered in his own blood and with bruises he knew he'd be feeling for days, Bryce would have given a lot to be on the other side of the country enjoying tedious small talk. Unfortunately, he had a mission to accomplish. And The Mission always came first.

He slid across the polished floor to a computer terminal that would not have looked out of place running Windows '95, and began frantically typing on the keyboard. Already he could hear them coming for him, he knew he had precious little time. He plugged his personal device into the Intersect computer, slipping shades over his eyes in the next motion.

"It's hard to say goodbye," he announced, pressing return firmly.

Thousands of images flashed on the screen before him, slowly transferring to his handheld. Finally, too long afterwards, the images stopped. Bryce could hear the agents banging on the door, trying to get to him. But he wasn't a superspy for nothing. A few precious seconds later, an explosive device was in place on the terminal, Bryce's jacket dropped on the floor for a logical aerodynamic reason (and not just how hot he knew he looked in bloodstained shirtsleeves). He took off towards the door at a sprint, the force of the explosion behind him propelling him out of the door just as it took out the guards waiting to apprehend him.

Using a combination of Kung Fu and gymnastics, he blazed through the guards, crashing through a pane of glass to make it away from the destroyed vault. Relatively safe in a stairwell, Bryce wasted time he didn't have, pulling up email on his handheld. More guards arrived to stop him, shooting inches above his head. Bryce fought his way up the stairwell and onto the roof with barely more than another handful of bruises to add to his tally.

Ducking and rolling, he jumped across rooftops, staggering his decent to drop to the ground outside the facility. He went down hard, the wind knocked out of his lungs by his impact with the concrete. Too slow. He was back on his feet, fingers flying over the screen of his device. His distraction cost him - a rookie mistake. A bullet tore through his chest, knocking him to the ground.

"Don't move."

If he'd been capable of smiling above the unbearable pain of the new hole in his chest, Bryce might have done so. That was almost funny for John Casey. Bryce found he didn't care much about Casey finally - maybe - discovering a sense of humour.

Darkness was already creeping around his vision, the warmth of his blood seeping onto his chest contrasting with the chill rapidly sinking into his body. If this was what dying felt like, Bryce really wasn't a fan.

"Too late, Casey," Bryce smirked, pressing down on his device. As last words went, he supposed he could have chosen worse. Beating Casey at their game never got old. He didn't need to look at the screen to know the email went through. This was in Chuck's hands now. As last acts went, there was no one he would have trusted more. He closed his eyes, hoping he hadn't just made another of the worst mistakes of his life.

.

.

Back in Chuck's bedroom in Echo Park, Chuck was once again wondering how he could have sucked so badly at talking to literally every woman at his party. Morgan tried to give a bracing pep talk, but bracing pep talks weren't really Morgan's speed. Instead, his lifelong best friend changed the subject.

"Wow. Blast-from-the-past wow."

Chuck cut a glance at his friend, waiting for what was so astounding.

Morgan did not disappoint. "Bryce remembered your birthday, dude."

"What?" After five years of silence, there was no way that Bryce Larkin had just gotten in touch with him. Birthday or not.

Morgan seemed to take his disbelief as confusion, helpfully clarifying. "The guy you almost replaced me with, ghosted you after graduation. You remember that guy?"

There was not a single person who had ever met Bryce Larkin that had subsequently forgotten him. It was physically impossible.

"Yeah, Morgan, I think I remember Bryce," Chuck dryly commented, moving over to his computer.

Despite knowing it was likely to be a bad idea, Chuck clicked on the attachment in the email. On screen came a single line - The terrible troll raises his sword.

Zork.

Chuck hadn't played in years. Not since the night before graduation, when he and Bryce had played tipsy and ignoring the raucous party the rest of their frat was hosting.

As if he had room to judge, Morgan mocked the coolness of Chuck and Bryce at Stanford, wearing the look that said their nerdiness was too much even for Morgan. Chuck helpfully sent Morgan home, racking his brain for the contents of his hero's satchel.

He closed his eyes, for a moment he was back in his dorm room at Stanford, sitting cross-legged on the floor, trading ideas with Bryce. A grin appeared on his lips, fingers falling to his keyboard.

"Attack troll with nasty knife."

Thousands of images appeared on his screen, flashing through at the speed of light. Chuck couldn't blink, he just stared at the screen, letting the images beam directly into his brain.

When the last image faded from the screen, Chuck toppled backwards, banging his head on his rug. He awoke to Morgan's concerned face and a headache worse than successive all nighters at college. Behind Morgan, his computer screen was innocently blank. Chuck had no idea what Bryce had sent him, but whatever it was had to be the worst birthday gift ever. And that included socks.

.

.

Several days later, Chuck was still feeling pretty certain about Bryce's gift being the worst ever. Who sends top secret government secrets to a Nerd Herder? Bryce Larkin apparently, because that was just what Chuck's life was now. He was a computer. A human computer. They called him the Intersect. He wanted to punch Bryce Larkin so hard in his perfect face.

Except he really didn't want to at all. Because Bryce Larkin, the guy who had kept him alive throughout college, who could light up a room with a smile and a twinkle of his blue eyes, who had been the best friend a guy could ever asked for - Bryce Larkin was dead. Killed by Casey as he sent the Intersect to Chuck.

Chuck really didn't know how to process that particular nugget of information. On one hand, apparently Bryce had been this terrifying superspy who went rogue when he sent the Intersect to Chuck. But on the other hand, he'd been Bryce. Chuck's friend, Chuck's room mate. And Casey had killed him. Casey. The guy Chuck had to trust to have his back until the CIA and the NSA worked out how to remove the Intersect from his head.

So, yeah, it was safe to say that Chuck was kind of conflicted about how he felt about that.

Killing his former best friend aside, Casey seemed like a pretty decent guy. He hadn't killed Chuck or dragged him away to some secret underground holding cell. His sense of humour could definitely use an upgrade (or an installation) but he was terrifyingly competent and Chuck knew that - as long as he was ordered to - Casey would protect Chuck with his life.

There was a not insignificant part of him that wanted to hate Casey, to demand another handler, to refuse to be in his presence. But, hating Casey wasn't going to change what he did. Bryce was dead and gone. If Chuck had to have an NSA handler, he might as well have the best. And, apparently, the best was Casey. He had to trust him. He had to trust Casey and Sarah both.

.

So, when Sarah and Casey each took the time to call him and ask him to come to the deserted Buy More, Chuck followed orders. He did not panic, he did not tell Morgan to call him in exactly one hour with a fake emergency. He picked up his jacket and his car keys and he drove to work. At night. Because this was his life now.

Casey and Sarah were waiting for him in the home theatre room of the Buy More, Casey pacing in his suit while Sarah watched patiently as he came in. They'd said they wanted to "talk about how this was going to work", something that made Chuck only marginally more nervous than he felt he entirely needed to be.

Chuck sat down on the table, keeping an open view of the Buy More. "What's so urgent, guys?"

Sarah shared a loaded look with Casey, communicating in a way even the Intersect couldn't translate. "There's been a slight change in your protection detail."

"You're still my handlers, right?" Chuck heard himself demand, only slightly hysterically. Conflicted he may be about Casey - and that was saying nothing about whatever had been between Sarah and Bryce - but Chuck didn't want to have to deal with new people. New people might not care about Chuck and the life he had. He didn't want new people.

"We're still your handlers, Chuck," Sarah reassured him over Casey's judgemental grunt. "We're just not your only handlers."

Chuck felt his stomach threaten rebellion. "I'm getting a new handler?"

Casey nodded, offering a grunt Chuck took to be an affirmative.

"Who?"

"No idea," Casey shrugged, looking unconcerned. "We're going to meet them now."

"How can you not know?" Chuck demanded, looking from Casey to Sarah. "You're spies! Aren't you supposed to know things?"

"We know things when we're told them, Chuck," Sarah informed him, far too calm for Chuck's peace of mind. "The Director and the General felt that this new addition would provide an element of security for your cover that Casey and I don't have."

Chuck's voice leapt into a higher register. "What is that supposed to mean?!"

Casey nodded towards the front of the Buy More. "I guess we're going to find out."

.

A suited figure stepped through the doors of the Buy More, the florescent lights reflecting off his sunglasses. He walked slowly, purposefully, his measured strides leading him towards the home theatre room. To Chuck, it was as if he walked in slow motion, but since nobody but the Six Million Dollar Man moved in slow motion, it was probably just the ever-increasing anxiety in Chuck's mind playing tricks on him. The man leaned against the doorframe, uncaring of the fact that he was probably wrinkling a suit that cost more than Chuck had made in his entire Buy More career.

"Lovely night for a secret rendezvous," the man said, voice like a blast from the past.

On either side of him, Casey and Sarah froze. Chuck himself wasn't much better, he shakily lowered himself onto the couch. He knew that voice. But that was impossible, because the man the voice should have belonged to was dead.

The man, the imposter with a dead man's voice, reached his right hand up and removed his sunglasses. And just like that, Bryce Larkin was looking back at him. A little older and a little more jaded, but still the same handsome face he remembered so well.

"How?" Sarah demanded.

"I shot you," Casey growled at the same time, gun appearing in his hand.

"Settle down," Bryce sighed, eyeing Casey's gun with distaste. A smirk replaced the vaguely distasteful look, eyes glittering with amusement. "You didn't think a little gunshot would kill me, did you, Casey?"

Casey flipped the safety off his gun. "How about we test that theory right now?"

Sarah moved around Chuck, lowering Casey's gun with a severe glare. She turned that glare on Bryce, eyes like daggers. "How are you not in prison right now for what you did?"

The smirk on Bryce's lips turned a little sharper, his eyes losing some of their sparkle. "Classified. You're more than welcome to check with the Director and the General though. They debriefed me personally."

Casey and Sarah took a step away, both pulling their phones out while keeping watchful glares on Bryce and Chuck.

Chuck didn't know what to think. Three days ago, he had been told Bryce was dead and now here he was acting like they'd never lost touch after Stanford. But this was Bryce, and he was wasn't dead and he was here... and he was nervous. Chuck could tell. Superspy or not, Chuck had known Bryce Larkin since freshman year, he could mask his feelings but he couldn't entirely hide the wariness in his eyes.

Bryce noticed Chuck's attention, challenging smirk transforming into his usual easy smile. "Hey, Chuck. How's the noggin?"

Chuck felt himself grin. "Stuffed full of government secrets? Yours?"

Bryce waved the sunglasses in his right hand. "A little fuzzy. Painkillers." He looked at Chuck as if imparting a great secret. "I was shot a couple of days ago."

That Chuck didn't need reminding about. "How did you survive?"

"I have no idea," Bryce admitted, voice pitched low. "One minute I was thinking my last act was sending you the Intersect, the next I was waking up in medical, in cuffs, with the heads of the CIA and NSA glaring at me."

And three days later, here he was. "It should take months to recover from a gunshot."

"Weeks for the CIA," Bryce shrugged, a flicker of a wince passing over his face.

"You're still healing," Chuck guessed, and accurately judging by the guilty look on Bryce's face. "Sit down."

Bryce shook his head. "I'd rather leave my exits open."

"Bryce," Chuck warned, letting his tone be enough. "Sit down before you fall down. Casey's not going to try to shoot you again." Chuck paired the statement with a pointed glare at the NSA agent. "Are you?"

"No," Casey agreed through gritted teeth. "He checks out."

Bryce gave Casey the most sarcastic smile he'd ever seen, slowly lowering himself to the couch beside Chuck.

"What's the plan, Bryce?" Sarah asked, watching him warily. Chuck wasn't sure if she was wary because Bryce had just been shot, or wary because it seemed very much like Bryce might outrank her.

"Same as it was," Bryce replied, leaning back a little into the plush couch cushions. "Your covers remain as is. Casey watches over Chuck here. You're his cover girlfriend. As for me, well, I'm just an old college friend who just moved back from Washington and wants to catch up with his old roommate."

"And your cover?" Casey asked, a challenging little curl to his lips.

Chuck knew Casey was hoping for something tedious and in the same vein as Casey's Buy More job and Sarah's cover at the Weinerlicious.

Bryce's blue eyes fell on Chuck, amusement twinkling within. "Apparently someone said I'd become an accountant," he said, Chuck meeting his gaze as innocently as he could. "I've just been hired to do this place's books."

"That's Big Mike's job," Chuck offered, leaning towards Bryce.

Bryce grinned, a flash of a thing, warm and amused. "And how much of his job does this Big Mike actually do?"

Chuck grinned back, caught. "Touche."

Casey interrupted their moment with a grunt. "Much as I'm enjoying you two ladies' reunion, I've got to get my beauty sleep. Let's get out of here."

Sarah nodded. "You'll drop them off?"

Casey grunted an agreement, Sarah bidding them a slightly distracted goodnight.

"Where are you staying?" Chuck asked, offering Bryce a hand up off the couch. His friend took it, closing his eyes a beat as gravity reasserted itself.

"Next door to Casey," Bryce sighed, almost displeased. "I think it's part of my punishment for stealing the Intersect."

"It's so you can keep an eye on Bartowski and I can keep my eye on you," Casey announced, prodding them out of the Buy More.

.

.

The drive back to Echo Park was quiet, Chuck processing the fact that Bryce really was alive beside him, and Bryce seemingly succumbing to the effects of being shot a couple of days before. But, he got out of the car with more grace than Chuck had ever possessed, letting Chuck walk him to his front door.

Chuck watched as Bryce unlocked his door, looking around at his new home with approval. He could see luggage and unpacked boxes waiting inside and had to push down the offer to help him unpack. "You'll still be here tomorrow, right?"

"I'll still be here," Bryce faithfully promised.

"And you're sure it's safe for you to be by yourself tonight?" Chuck couldn't stop himself from asking. "Ellie and Awesome are both doctors, and I will drag you over there if I have to."

Bryce only smiled, stepping through the door of his apartment. "Goodnight, Chuck."

Chuck knew when he was beaten. "Night, Bryce." He began the short trudge back to his home, knowing he was going to have a lot of explaining to do before he would get any sleep tonight.


Thank you!