Title: Cascade Effects

Author: Lady Black-Malfoy

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck or White Collar. If I did then this story would obviously happen, and Bryce Larkin would be alive. :D

Summary: After Neal slips up, Peter is suspicious and starts to look in to the past. In particular, Neal Caffrey's past. When a new case comes in, can Neal protect his cover while still doing the job he was sent to do? The stakes are higher than ever, but with the help of some old friends he just might be able to pull it off. Set after White Collar episode 1x10 "Vital Signs", and Chuck episode 2x22 "Chuck Versus The Ring". Sequel to Vital Lies. Thanks to my betas AwesomeQueenoftheLab, the-vampire-act, and lauraac2110!

Prologue- With Heavy Hearts

Five Years Ago

'You've reached Sarah Walker; leave a message after the beep and I'll get back to you.' The familiar feminine voice sounded cheerful but echoed dully in his ears. Bryce Larkin gripped his phone tightly, then continued walking down the sidewalk, this time at a slower pace. He was almost sure that she would have picked up, and when she didn't, Bryce just knew. Sarah had chosen to stay behind. She had chosen Chuck.

Not that he blamed her. Bryce had meant it when he told Chuck that the man was truly the only person he trusted. There was something special about Chuck in that he was just a nice guy. During their Stanford years, the two had formed a bond of camaraderie, and, despite the rough patches more recently, he had been genuinely sorry to have to leave so soon. He felt he should have said more, but he also knew that nothing – certainly not a few words alone – could replace Chuck's lost years at Stanford.

Good guys like Chuck didn't deserve what Bryce had done to him. The fact that it was to protect Chuck helped Bryce live with himself, though that by no means meant he was okay with getting Chuck kicked out. After he had left, Bryce remembered how quiet the dorms had been. And they stayed that way for a long time, since Chuck had been so well liked.

Now, he was actually a bit envious of Chuck, if he was honest. The man had friends, family, a life-everything Bryce couldn't have. And now, he had Sarah, too.

The phone in his hand beeped, and he had to gather himself before leaving the message.

"I understand your choice, Sarah; it's just hard to say goodbye." Bryce had to pause for a moment as his throat tightened, then he continued. "I need you to promise me one thing, though. Just take care of Chuck for me. He needs you more than you think, and you need him more than you'll admit."

Walking up to the black Escalade that was his new car, Bryce finished softly. "And Sarah? Don't wait up."

Snapping the phone shut felt like the hardest thing he had ever done. He took the keys that had been left at the dead drop site out of his pocket and inserted it into the car. The lock clicked, so he opened the door and hopped in, chucking the phone in the passenger seat before the door even shut behind him. It landed on a stack of papers with a crinkling sound, but for the moment he ignored what he already knew would be waiting for him.

Frustration swept though Bryce, and he slammed both hands against the steering wheel a few times. The physical movements allowed him to vent his anger without shooting something. However, after the long day, he was now spent, and he leaned back against the leather seats, absentmindedly brushing a stray black lock out of his eyes.

He had lied to them when he said the mission was at a consulate. Well, maybe he'd attend a few parties at one, but definitely not as CIA agent Bryce Larkin. This mission was different than any other purely because so many things had to fall into place perfectly. Graham still had to completely read him in, but he knew the general premise, and he knew it was probably one the most intricate operations the CIA had ever developed.

After running a hand over his face, Bryce grabbed the card and passport on the passenger seat. Raising his new Driver's license to eye-level, using the dim light cast by a street lamp, he read the name of one of the many people he would become for the next month: Nicholas Halden.

Present Day

The morning sun beat heavily down on Central Park, where some had smartly escaped to the shade of the many trees dotted throughout the park. Towels and blankets were spread out, their owners reading quietly or picnicking with friends and family. A few brave runners that were jogging along the paths glistened with sweat, trying in vain to defeat the smothering heat wave. Sounds of water splashing and kids screeching with laughter as they ran through the cool water could be heard, while smiling parents watched on and, in some cases, even participated. Black dogs, gray dogs, short dogs, tall dogs, and all manner of dogs trotted with their owners. Tongues hung out as a consequence of the hard work, but they were offered some amount of relief from the nearby water fountains or water bottles. Overall, it was a normal summer day in the New York park; however, for one of the frequenters, it was about to turn a bit abnormal.

"Hey! Small fry, come on! Leave it!" a man dressed in sports shorts, Nike running shoes, and a plain gray tee scolded the small tan Chihuahua at the end of his leash. "You don't know what kind of mouths that hamburger touched. You'll get some food in a bit; have some water instead."

Jake Andrews bent down to one knee, opened his water bottle and allowed the grateful dog a few drinks. Finally finished, big brown eyes looked up and its tan tail started to wag with excitement. "I know, I know, you're welcome. Now, let's go back home to Mama so she can take you to the groomers. Why she insists on treating you like a girl, I will never understand." He stood up with a groan as his knees popped uncomfortably, then he glanced down at the expectant dog and demanded, "Just make sure to pick out the dark blue nail polish this time. Pink doesn't suit you." A happy bark echoed the dog's agreement, causing Jake to smile brightly.

"Come on then," he said, tugging gently on the leash to get the dog to follow, and small feet scurried to keep up with the longer legs of its owner. Two women joggers passed by, and Jake mentally winced at the cooing that followed over the unique pairing, for it was true that Jake Andrews wasn't really the type of man you might normally associate with such a small animal.

Standing at six foot, four inches, Jake was a formidable presence. Broad shouldered and muscular, he looked like the type of man who could easily pass as a bodyguard- a rather dumb bodyguard, perhaps; however, his deep-set brown eyes sparkled with a carefully hidden intelligence. This happened to prove advantageous in his line of work. Jake worked as a computer systems specialist for Castle Security Inc., a security firm based in Washington, DC. Stationed at one of the New York offices, he took care of installing, configuring, and supervising computer hardware and software, among 'other things'. Those 'other things' had nothing to do with his work at Castle though. Surprisingly, the 'other things' happened to be related to the fact that he walked his dog in that area of Central Park.

Strolling under the Willowdell Arch, he casually glanced at one of the nearby street posts. The only outward indication that something wasn't right was the sudden death grip on the dog's leash. Inwardly, his heart rate skyrocketed and his mind began to race. 'Looks like we'll have to skip the donut shop this morning.'Jake thought. At least his wife would be pleased.

Fifteen grueling minutes later, he was jumping up the stone steps to a large two story brick house with the little Chihuahua trailing at his heels. He opened the cherry wood door, then ushered the dog in, snapping the door shut behind him. Once safely inside the entrance area Jake dropped the leash, allowing the Chihuahua to just run off up the stairs. Ignoring the dog, Jake jogged down the immediate carpeted hallway, his running shoes squeaking slightly.

"Honey, you're home early." A woman's voice called from the room he was headed towards. Finally stepping into the room, Jake clutched the doorjamb and let his guard down when he caught sight of his wife.

Intelligent bright blue eyes shone out from underneath meticulously curled blonde hair. Elise Andrews had a lean figure and was dressed in a dark blue sundress with strappy silver heels. The blue contrasted sharply against her pale skin so that combined with the delicate bone structure in her face and the almost over-bleached white teeth, she looked like the New York elite housewife that she played. When her husband walked in, she glanced up from the couch, where she was reclined reading a book.

"I need the Key. Something's happened," Jake said from his tense position in the doorway.

An expression of surprise briefly crossed her pretty face before it hardened into something more serious. Quickly, Elise closed the book, and as she stood up, she raised a manicured hand up to the silver necklace that adorned her neck, then with a yank ripped it off. The chain broke, but it wasn't the chain that mattered. Lying in her palm was a small silver heart – a heart that held a secret. Embedded in the small ornament was an RFID tag.

RFID's, or radio frequency ID's, were rather simple tags. They used radio waves to either track or identify something. Libraries used them in their materials for security purposes, farmers used them as ear tags in their animals, and the Andrews used theirs for identity confirmation. The nice thing about having it concealed inside Elise's locket was that the silver prevented detection since it blocked the radio waves from getting out. In this case, it was much more secure than fingerprint security systems.

Silently, Elise strode to Jake and handed him the small heart. A tight smile passed between the two as their hands briefly made contact when he snatched it from her slim hand, and then he hastened from the room into their study, where a handsome cherry desk was resting near a bookcase. He bent down and gently scraped his fingernail between the locket's openings. With a click, it exposed the small device hidden inside, which he then held in front of a gold false lock. Like many decorative desks, the cherry desk had a drawer that wasn't meant to open. But this particular one did open, as long as the heart shaped locket with the RF tag was held in front of the special reader hidden in the false lock.

Inside the desk, a larger lock clicked, and the drawer dropped away from the top of the desk, allowing a laptop to be seen. Jake set the drawer on the ground, then lifted the laptop clear before setting it on the polished desktop. He drew a desk chair over, reached down into the drawer again, and picked up a piece of paper that had a long list of e-mail addresses. Those addresses were special. They were called accommodation addresses, and had no obvious connection to an intelligence agency. Agents were often given them so that they could safely pass intelligence material or other sensitive information to where it needed to be. And sensitive information was what Jake Andrews – or retired CIA officer David Landers – had. Because while it may look like he had been just walking the family dog, he was really watching a signal site. On that lamppost that he had gone by earlier, and the one that destroyed his donut shop plans, was a single chalk mark in the shape of an X. Retired CIA officer Brittney Asker, also known as Elise Andrews, glanced over her husband's shoulder to see what he was typing. When she caught sight of the black words, her own heart jumped into her throat and she put her hands onto his shoulders.

"Bryce will be okay, won't he?" she asked softly. Strained silence was her only answer.

AN: I will post the next chapter in about a week, probably less. Make sure to check out my forums also, since I'm posting things related to the story like time-lines and mission profiles as the story goes on. Reviews are welcomed!