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aragarnaTitle: Miles to Go Before I Sleep
Author:
aragarna
Artist:eldorah
Word Count: 20 400
Characters, pairings: Peter, Neal, Elizabeth, Mozzie, various FBI agents.
Rating: general audience, gen.
Warnings: none
Spoilers: up to 5x13
Summary: post-season 5. Neal goes missing, El goes to DC, Peter gets restless and Mozzie steps over the line.
05:42 AM, South of Camden, New Jersey.
The first hints of dawn were making their way, chasing the darkness of the night. Under the joint command of Peter and SWAT officer Clarkson, agents had been divided into three teams, each approaching the target from different directions. They had orders to stop at reasonable distance from the house, closing in by foot, in the greatest silence possible, in order to surround the house.
Peter stopped his car, and Agent Rice exited. They would lead the team approaching up front, down the path from the main road. They would have a few minutes, waiting for everyone to take position around the house, and Peter thought this would be the perfect moment to grab a bite. He took his sandwich out of the lunch bag El had made for him and followed Rice. They took their positions and Peter opened the wrapping and started eating with appetite as he kept his eyes on the house, looking for any sign of movement.
Alerted by the smell, Rice turned to Peter a horrified face. “What is that?!”
“Devilled ham,” Peter said with gluttony. “Want some?”
Rice looked positively horrified. “No thanks.” Then she added. “How can you eat that so early?”
Peter shrugged and swallowed a big bite of his sandwich, thankful of his wife for being so awesome. He was just finishing when his radio crackled. “Perimeter is set, Peter. Waiting on your signal.”
“It’s a go!” Peter shouted through the radio. He secured his gun in his hands and move toward the house.
06:20 PM, South of Camden, New Jersey.
The room was empty. Neal wasn’t there. There was an old mattress lying in the corner of the deem basement, with stains that looked suspiciously like dry blood. Peter felt like a punch in his stomach and for a second he couldn’t breathe. Suddenly he turned around and run back upstairs where FBI agents were cuffing Finnigan, Parker and a couple of other thugs caught in. Charging at Parker, the one they had assumed was the leader of the group, Peter grabbed him by the collar and slammed him violently against the wall behind.
“Where is he?” he roared in the face of Parker, ignoring the other agents trying to pull him away. “Where is Neal?”
Parker wasn’t of the kind to be intimidated by some rough handling and he simply shrugged. Peter pressed him harder and higher, Parker’s feet lifted above the ground.
“Where. Is. He.” Peter repeated in a low voice.
“They moved him.” Parker finally admitted, in a choked voice.
Peter released his hold. “When, where?”
“Yesterday.”
“Where?” Peter repeated, his tone once again menacing.
“I don’t know, I swear.”
Peter stepped closer. “Who?”
Parker exchanged a look with Finnigan.
“I want a deal,” he finally said. “Official. On paper.”
They were running out of time. They had to find Neal before the end of the day. Peter didn’t have the money, and he was three hours from Penn Station.
“I want a name!” he roared.
Parker shook his head.
Peter breathed heavily and pinched his nose. “Give me their phones,” he urged to Jones.
Flipping through the call logs of both phones, Peter quickly spotted a common name, called several times in the last few days. He looked intensely at both men.
“Simmons,” he said. Finnigan flinched. Peter grinned coldly. Parker sent his partner a dark look.
“Take them in,” he ordered to his Agents. “And put a trace on this number,” he asked Jones.
07:34 PM, Another remote house near Camden, New Jersey.
Gun drawn and steady in his hands, Peter angrily kicked the door hard with his foot. The lock gave with a loud crack. The room was small and gloomy, with only a dim light filtering from upstairs. It was empty, except for a slumped figure dumped in a corner who stirred slightly at the commotion of Peter’s noisy entrance. Peter rushed to it and dropped to his knees.
“Neal?” he called softly.
The young man turned his face toward his friend and a slight smile brushed his lips. Peter gently moved Neal’s dumped hair away from his face to get a clear look at him. His lower lip was swollen and a bruise was visible on the side of his chin. There was also a mark of dried blood at the base of his hairline. Peter clenched his teeth as he felt his heart sank in his chest.
“Neal?” Peter repeated, as he anxiously glared at Neal’s dirty and at part torn shirt and pants. A lump caught him at the throat as he caught sight of Neal’s bare feet and hands bonded so tight that the plastic restrains were tearing his skin.
Peter turned to the agents standing at the door. “Get me some paramedics here, now!” The agents nodded and disappeared, leaving the two friends together.
Taking a knife out of his pocket, Peter cut Neal’s ties. He tried to be as gentle as he could, but Neal couldn’t suppress a moan, which in turn made Peter winced.
“…found me,” Neal whispered in a hoarse voice.
Peter cleared his throat in what sounded dangerously like a sob. “Of course. I’m the worldwide expert at finding Neal Caffrey.”
“This one doesn’t count.”
Freed, Neal laboriously sat up and Peter sat by his side, wrapping a protective arm around Neal’s shoulders. “No, it doesn’t,” he said softly. “But that’s the one that matters the most.”
“Thank you, Peter,” Neal whispered. Looking up, he greeted Peter of a warm smile. Peter felt his heart crack slightly. Those genuine smiles had been quite sparse the past few months.
Neal leaned in against Peter and rested his head on his shoulder.
“I knew you’d find me.”
Peter chuckled lightly and squeezed Neal’s shoulder. “I knew you didn’t run.”
09:00 PM, Bellevue Hospital.
A medical chopper had brought Neal back to New York on Peter’s insistence. Paramedics had argued they had a decent enough ER in Camden, but the agent, flashing his badge and making calls had obtained a helicopter to transport Neal home. Peter had climbed in with him, refusing to leave his side, for which Neal had been silently grateful. During the entire course of the short flight, Peter had kept a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder.
As they approached the island, Neal was warmed by the sight of the familiar shapes of Manhattan skyscrapers. He looked up at Peter whose eyes were still on him. They exchanged a silent smile.
Neal was quickly admitted into a room, and it wasn’t long until he was taken to run X-rays and a CT scan. Peter only reluctantly let go of Neal and sat on the second bed, unoccupied at the moment.
“I’ll be right back,” Neal said lightly.
“And I’ll be right here,” Peter answered in a matching tone.
Left alone, Peter finally allowed himself to let go. All the tension that had grown inside of him for the past week violently broke and Peter felt immensely tired. Big tears run down his eyes, rolling along his cheeks, down his chin. He didn’t make a move to brush them away, he let them go, and with them the strain, the fear. They were tears of relief. The relief of having found Neal in time, alive, safe and sound – mostly. The relief of having been able to make justice prevail, when it mattered the most, when he was emotionally compromised. Parker and Finnigan were in custody. Tomorrow, they’ll interrogate them. They’ll put surveillance around the YMCA. Arrest the last one. The wheels of Justice were already rolling. And the balance will be restored, as soon as Neal came back from his X-ray check.
Peter looked at the pillow beside him. It looked incredibly attractive…
09:30 PM, Bellevue Hospital.
Neal went through his exams in a blurry haze. Now that the tension had broken off, he was exhausted. All patched up, they rolled him back to his room. What he saw there brought a smile on his face. Peter was curled up on top of the second bed, in a fetal position, sound asleep.
“Don’t wake him up,” Neal asked the doctor. “I have the feeling he had quite a few hours of sleep to catch up on.”
Eyelids heavier by the minute, it wasn’t long until Neal joined him.
10:00 PM, Bellevue Hospital.
Elizabeth ran to the admission desk.
“Neal Caffrey,” she asked, out of breath.
“Visitor hours are over, m’am,” the clerk said laconically.
“Peter Burke, my husband, he’s here too.”
The clerk looked at her log and shook her head. “I have no one under this name.”
Elizabeth felt her blood boiled. Luckily, a nurse approached her. “They’re in Room 11, please follow me. Given the hour, I would ask you to be quiet and make your visit as short as possible.”
Elizabeth nodded and followed the nurse down the corridor. In front of Room 11, she took a deep breath and composed herself a little before knocking lightly and pushed the door. The room was in the dark, the only light coming from the opened door. Neal and Peter were sleeping and didn’t move when she came in.
For a moment, she was alarmed by the sight of Peter lying on a bed. He hadn’t said anything about being hurt when he had called earlier to give her the happy news that Neal had been found and would be fine. But coming closer, she noticed that he was still wearing his clothes, including his bulletproof vest, and was curled over the cover. His breathing was even and his face was peaceful.
Elizabeth smiled. Of course, now that Neal was safe, Peter could relax and sleep. She sat next to her husband on the bed and brushed his hair and the small of his neck. He stirred and finally opened his eyes, smiling at the sight of her.
Sitting up, Peter looked over at Neal, still deep asleep.
“How is he?” El whispered.
Peter looked at her, then back to Neal. “He’s… fine? Damn, I fell asleep, I didn’t see him coming back. I don’t actually know. I should probably find his doctor.”
“He’s going to be fine,” The nurse on duty informed them. “He has a bruised rib, a deep laceration of the scalp, and a few bruises and superficial cuts. He’s slightly dehydrated and the doctor advised to keep him under observation for 24 hours.”
Elizabeth was tightly holding Peter’s arm, a lump in her throat. The nurse didn’t seem worried, but she couldn’t help feeling distraught by what it meant about the way his captors had treated Neal.
As they were heading back to Neal’s room, the nurse called them back. “Hmm, Agent Burke? We’re way past visitor hour, please keep it short.”
Peter sighed. Elizabeth could see he was reluctant to leave his friend, and she knew exactly why. He was the same after she was kidnapped by Keller a couple years ago. He wouldn’t let her out of his sight. It was his way of saying “I’m here now, you’re safe”. It was also probably a reassurance for himself that indeed, his loved ones were there, safe and sound.
“Two minutes,” Peter promised.
The nurse smiled and nodded. “Two minutes.”
04:00 AM, Bellevue Hospital.
Neal woke up in a jolt and disoriented. For a moment he thought he was still being held hostage, but he quickly realized that he was in a bed. It took him some time to remember the rescue, Peter’s anxious eyes, then his smile. Neal turned his head to the side, trying to distinguish through the darkness Peter’s figure on the bed next to his. But the bed was empty, making Neal’s anxiety rise again.
Suddenly Neal realized there was something tugged between his fingers. It was a piece of paper. Neal reached for his bedside lamp, switched the light on and looked at the piece of paper. He unfolded it and the sight of Peter’s distinctive handwriting made him smile.
Neal,
We got kick out by the nurse. I didn’t want to wake you up. I’ll be back in the morning. Get some rest.
Peter
10:30 AM, Bellevue Hospital.
Neal was woken by the muffled noise of a heated conversation. It was daylight now. The room was empty. The sound was coming from just outside his door. Neal listened carefully. One of the voices was definitely Peter’s and he didn’t seem happy.
“He’s not even awake yet! This can wait. He’s not going anywhere.”
“It’s just the procedure, Burke,” someone said, sounded just as annoyed as Peter. “We need to know what happened.”
“I told you, it was a kidnapping. Look, he’ll make a full report to you as soon as he’s released. You have my word.”
“We still need to –“
“Give it to me, I’ll put it on myself.”
Neal relaxed on his pillow. He wasn’t sure what the stir was about, but whatever it was, it felt good to hear Peter defending him.
Peter cautiously pushed the door and glanced at Neal. When he saw he was awake, he greeted him with a bright smile.
“Hey!”
“Hey yourself.”
“How are you?”
Neal shrugged, which turned out to be a bad move and he winced. “I’m fine,” he said nonetheless.
“Right, I see that,” Peter smirked. He tilted his head, rising an eyebrow. He wouldn’t let this go so easily.
“Okay, my body hurts. And where it doesn’t hurt, it itches. But I’m good, really. It’s not the worse I had, you know.”
Neal was aiming for some lightness, but Peter didn’t seem in the right mood, as he suddenly turned very pale.
“Really?” he asked, emotion sensible in his voice.
“I’m just glad this is all over,” Neal said quickly.
Peter let go a heavy sigh. “Yes, me too.”
Neal caught a shadow passing over his friend’s face. “You okay?”
Peter forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I am. Now.”
“Long week, huh?”
“You could say that.”
Neal pointed at the door. “So what was that about, outside?”
Peter shook his head with clear annoyance. “The Marshals.”
That’s only then that Neal realized he wasn’t wearing his anklet. Peter had left him the whole night on his own, without surveillance or restraints. He could have run. That was probably the subject of that conversation Neal had just overheard.
“They thought I run?” he asked. Peter nodded. “Is that why you insisted on getting me transported to Manhattan? To have me back into my radius?”
Peter shrugged. “It was more that I needed to feel you back inside my radius. And in case they wanted to keep you here for a few days, it would have made it easier for me to visit. I was worried and… I just wanted to bring you home. That was a little foolish, wasn’t it?”
“Wait –“ Truly, Neal was slow today. “Home? Isn’t home D.C., now, for you?” He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. Peter would have to leave for D.C. soon, leaving him alone here in New York for the rest of his time to serve. He suddenly felt betrayed that Peter hadn’t taken him to D.C. instead.
A sad smile brushed Peter’s lips. “I didn’t go to D.C.”
Neal frowned. “What?”
“I’m staying at my good old White Collar division of the Bureau’s Manhattan office after all.”
Neal was dumbfounded. “Why? What happened?”
“They turned down your demand for an early release. That’s what happened.”
Neal was now staring at Peter with wide opened eyes. He felt like his heart went through all the colors of the emotional rainbow: shocked by the news, pained for his friend, grateful that they’ll be able to stay together, moved him to his bones. He knew he should say something, but he couldn’t find the words.
“How about Elizabeth?”
“She still went for that job at the National Gallery. She likes it there. I think. It’s not exactly been the easiest week, for any of us, it’s been difficult settling down in our new life. Hopefully it’ll be easier now.”
“I’m sorry,” Neal said in a low voice.
Peter shrugged. “It’s not your fault you got kidnapped.”
“So, who was it?”
“We have a couple guys in custody. Finnigan and Parker. And we’re still looking for Simmons. Do any of these names ring a bell to you?”
Neal shook his head. “Were any of them wearing cowboy boots?”
Peter thought for a while. “Yes, Parker, I think.”
Peter’s phone buzzed. He retrieved it from his jacket’s chest pocket and a predatory smile suddenly appeared on his face as he read the text.
“Oh, they just found Simmons. I gotta go.”
Neal could distinctly see the sparks in his dark pupils. Simmons – who ever that was – better be prepared to face the wrath of Special Agent Peter Burke.
But when he turned to Neal, the usual kindness had returned in Peter’s eyes, with a hint of additional embarrassment, as he pulled the anklet from his pocket.
“You have to put this back on; otherwise they won’t leave you alone.”
Neal sat as he pulled the cover to show his leg. There was a bandage around his ankle, where the plastic restrains had torn Neal’s skin. Peter stopped, unsure of what to do.
“Just put it on, it’s okay,” Neal insisted. “The bandage should protect my skin.”
Peter wrapped the electronic device around Neal’s ankle. It biped and the green light appeared.
“You’re sure it doesn’t hurt?”
Neal shook his head. Not this time.
Peter fidgeted on his phone and smiled happily as he watched the screen. “There you are, right where you are.”
This had Neal to chuckle. “I’m not sure how I should feel seeing you so cheerful to track me on your phone.”
Peter shrugged. “Tracking you is my second nature.”
Neal looked pensively at his anklet. It felt heavy. “So, what now?” he asked.
Peter turned serious and looked at Neal. “Well, I guess we’re both back to work at the White Collar division.” A frown appeared on his forehead and he sighed. “I know this isn’t what you were hoping but… I’ll find you an new handler.”
Neal’s heart sank. “A new handler,” he cut off.
“Yes, I had reviewed a few pretty good candidates. You seemed to get along well with Agent Siegel. I could find you someone with a similar profile. Otherwise, Jones is willing to take you under his wing.”
Neal didn’t know what to say. His chest felt tight. Or maybe it was the air suddenly feeling thick.
“But for now, get some rest. I’ll see if I can get you a couple days off,” Peter went on, “See you later, Neal.”
Neal nodded and didn’t answer.
11:00 AM, Bellevue Hospital
The door opened and Elizabeth appeared, a steaming hot cup of coffee in her hand. She literally lit up as she caught sight of Neal.
“Good morning, Neal,” she greeted him warmly, as she put the cup aside on the bed trail and came to give him a warm and gentle hug.
“Good morning, Elizabeth. It’s good to see you.”
“Good to see you too. We’ve been so worried about you.”
Neal smiled reassuringly. “I’m fine now. It’s over.”
Elizabeth nodded.
“Did you catch Peter?” Neal asked. “He left not long ago.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “He went back to the office to wrap up the investigation. He mentioned some payback time, too.”
Elizabeth looked at her watch and smiled bravely at Neal. She didn’t say a thing but it wasn’t difficult for Neal to read her mind. She wouldn’t have seen her husband much of the weekend, and in a few hours, she’ll have to leave.
“He promised he’d come back as fast as he could,” he said.
Elizabeth laughed lightly. “He told me that too. And for once, I do believe he won’t do any extra hours.”
“He misses you,” Neal approved.
Elizabeth reached of a cup of coffee and settled in the visitor chair next to Neal’s bed. “There’s that. And there’s you, too,” she said.
As Neal raised an eyebrow, she explained. “I get the feeling he isn’t going to let you go far from his sight for a few days. It’s his way to deal with those things.”
“I don’t think I’ll mind, for once,” Neal said with a smile.
“How is your new job at the National Gallery?” he asked.
Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with happiness. “It’s amazing. Have you ever been there?”
Neal tilted his head, an enigmatic smile on his lips. “A few times. Allegedly.”
“Of course…” Elizabeth sighed, amused.
Neal quickly changed the subject to a less slippery ground. “Are you finding your way around DC?”
“I’m still adjusting. It’s been a difficult week, and though my body was in DC, my mind and heart remained in New York.”
“It must be hard, without Peter.” Neal said softly. “You two seem so organically linked. I can’t imagine you living separately.”
Elizabeth looked up at Neal. “It is a little hard, but we’ll manage. It’s not going to be a permanent arrangement. Eventually, either Peter will join me in Washington, or I’ll come back to New York. I still have a few options here. But for now, this is what we want, and we’ll make it work. And now that he’s found you, it should be a little easier.”
“It’s my fault.”
“Oh Neal, don’t think that for a minute. If someone’s to blame for the situation, it’s Peter and his indecisions.”
“But if it wasn’t for my sentence…”
“You and I both know he wouldn’t really have been happy as a section chief in DC. It’s the best for everyone. I got to get the job of my dreams, Peter will continue to work actively on White Collar cases, and you’ll have him at your side until the end.”
A shadow clouded Neal’s gaze and he looked down. “I’m not sure how close from his side he still wants me.”
Elizabeth frowned. “Why is that?”
“Well…” Neal was a little uncertain. “Before everything happened, things at work were a little edgy.”
“Oh, honey,” Elizabeth said, “Peter just spent a sleepless week moving earth and heaven to find you.”
Neal looked embarrassed. “I know, Elizabeth. I didn’t mean… I’m just not sure where we stand right now. I thought we were okay. But he said he’d find me a new handler. I don’t know anymore. I’m not even sure why he vouched for my early release.”
Elizabeth bent over and grabbed Neal’s hand. She waited for him to look at her before speaking softly. “I know Peter can be… difficult, sometimes. But he loves you. Don’t ever forget that.”
“But will he take me back?”
Elizabeth looked fondly at Neal. “If that’s what you want, tell him.”
5:03 PM, Penn Station, platform 9
They didn’t speak much during the ride to the station. Holding Elizabeth’s suitcase in one hand, her hand in the other, Peter walked his wife to the platform. They didn’t need the small talks, nor the effusion of great good byes. They simply breathed in each other’s presence, enjoying those last minutes together.
They waited for the train huddled together, both lost in their own thoughts.
“You should talk to Neal,” Elizabeth finally said, out of the blue.
Peter frowned. “He said he’s fine. And he seems fine to me.”
“I’m not talking about the kidnapping.”
Peter sighed. “Did he say anything to you? I thought we were good.”
“But you won’t take him back?”
“What?” Peter asked, surprised.
“You’re assigning him a new handler.”
“I thought that’s what he wanted. I’m not sure where we still stand, you know. He really wanted out. I did all I could to get him an early release. It’s not happening. So I’m just trying to get him the second best solution. He didn’t seem really happy working with me lately. Which is probably my fault… But… Each times I tried to get closer to him, he pushed me back.”
“Just talk to him. Let him talk to you. And tell him how you feel. I think you both need to open up a little.”
Peter growled.
Elizabeth kissed him on the cheek. “Just think about it, okay?”
Peter nodded. He knew Elizabeth was right. He just didn’t know how to do it. He wasn’t good at it, opening up. And it was all so complicated…
When it was time for Elizabeth to get on the train, Peter wrapped his arms around her waist and they gave each other a long kiss assorted with a hug strong enough for the memory to last the entire week.
“Call me when you arrive,” Peter said as El climbed in the train and Peter handed her the suitcase.
She bent over to grab a last kiss and got inside to find a seat.
7:00 PM, Bellevue Hospital
Neal felt bored out of his mind. They wouldn’t release him until the following morning. TV was boring, and the painkillers, if effective, had a serious side effect on his ability to sketch, or even think properly. He wasn’t allowed outside his room, not without a Marshal or an FBI Agent’s supervision.
At least, his interview with the Marshals had been rather well. They seemed to have finally accepted he hadn’t run.
I knew you didn’t run. Peter’s words came back to him, as well as his earnest smile when he saw him this morning. Neal had to admit that this smile was tickling his heart in a very comforting way. And yet the Agent wouldn’t take him back… Neal wasn’t sure why this sudden swing, when everything had seemed to finally fall into places. He didn’t remember doing anything wrong. Well, not since Hagen anyway.
He did ask Mozzie to crack the anklet. Maybe Peter knew. Did he? Neal’s thought were getting fussy. He was slowly drifting into an uneasy sleep until he heard the door of his room open.
It was Peter, and he wasn’t exactly smiling. His face was a complex mix of surprise, horror, disbelief, and… amusement?
“What did you do to your hair?” he exclaimed as he stared at Neal’s new cropped-haircut.
Neal shrugged. “I had to do something. I was looking ridiculous with that missing lock on the side.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “After… this,” he said with a vague gesture toward Neal’s bruised cheek, “all you worry about is your look? Well, at least now I’m definitely convinced you’re all right.”
Neal smiled. “I am. So, did you get all the bad guys?”
“We did,” Peter said with a cocky smile. “Simmons was the one behind your kidnapping, the guy with the boots. He was working for a man named Ivanovich, Russian mob. It appears our bust a few months ago left him out of business, and with quite a debt. He wanted to make me pay for it.”
“Oh.”
“What?”
“And all this time I thought it was someone who had something against me.”
They exchanged a brief smile.
“It’s not always your fault, Neal.”
09:30 AM, Riverside.
Neal turned the knob and pushed the door of his apartment. He took a deep breath. He was home. And apparently not alone.
“I know you’re here,” he said loud enough.
Mozzie emerged from the bathroom. “How can you possibly know?”
Neal could point at the missing bottle of wine from the rack – now in Mozzie’s hand. Or the empty glass in the sink. He could mention his friend’s unmistakable cologne – surprisingly identifiable for a conman as invisible as Mozzie. But he didn’t say anything. Instead he gave a casual shrug assorted with a satisfied smile. “I’m that good.”
Mozzie mumbled something and retrieved two clean glasses from the cupboard and setting them on the table, he filled them generously.
“Welcome back my friend,” he simply said, offering a glass to Neal.
The young man accepted the glass and greeting with a light bow of the head as they clang their glasses and sat at the table.
The familiar routine of a shared glass with Mozzie felt good to Neal. It was all over, he was finally home. He smiled and relaxed on his chair.
6:00 PM, Riverside
Neal opened the door and smiled at Peter, who seemed to be unexpectedly nervous.
“Hi Neal,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m all good, thanks,” Neal said. “What about you? Something wrong?” Peter looked up at Neal, frowning. “You seem a little tense,” Neal noted.
Peter opened his mouth, then closed it. Finally he took a deep breath. “Could we talk?” he asked, his eyes avoiding Neal’s.
Neal felt a lump caught his throat. “Talk about what?”
Peter swallowed and gazed up at Neal, sending him an unsure look. “About us.”
Neal distinctively felt the blood drain out of his face. He didn’t know what to say and they both stood there, next to the door, none of them sure on how to react, or proceed.
“I think – El thinks – but I think she’s right, that it’d do us both some good,” Peter mumbled. “But… I want you to know that it’s not… I’m here as your friend. And I just want to clear the air. Make sure we’re all good, you know?”
Neal nodded though he wasn’t sure he really liked where this was going. He gestured Peter to seat at the table.
“Beer?” he asked, trying his best to sound casual.
Peter nodded quickly as he settled at the table. Neal retrieved a beer from the fridge, a bottle of wine from the rack, and poured himself a glass before seating opposite to Peter.
Peter went on. “That thing that we have, this strong friendship, it scares me. A little, sometimes.”
“How so?”
“We’d do anything for each other. But…”
Neal felt a knock in his stomach. They couldn’t be going there again. Not so soon. “Is this about Dawson?” He asked, a little on the defensive.
Peter looked up briefly at Neal before his gaze drifted away but it wasn’t the dark reproachful look Neal was almost expecting. Instead it was clouded, uncertain, almost afraid.
“I’m sorry Neal. I really am. I know I should thank you, for what you did, and I can’t. I know why you did it. I understand. Really I do. And I feel like a terrible friend. And it kills me to see how it hurts you…” Peter was fidgeting with the label on his beer, still unable to meet Neal’s eyes. “I’m not comfortable with the situation, what it means for me, who I’ve become. I feel like you’re dragging me to some place I don’t want to go. I don’t want to be this kind of guy, this kind of agent. There are lines I won’t cross. I serve the system, I can’t corrupt it.”
“But you didn’t. You didn’t do anything. I did it all on my own…”
“But by accepting it, I become an accomplice. I become… corrupted.”
Peter suddenly looked up at Neal and the intensity of his gaze, pleading for understanding surprised him. “I felt like I was a dirty cop and I couldn’t stand it. I could barely look at myself in the mirror when thinking about it…”
Peter’s voice faded away and he brushed a hand over his face. Silent settled. Neal didn’t know what to say. He was seeing the situation in an all new light. Too busy dealing with Hagen, the Codex, Rachel and his own pain, he never thought of how his own actions could reflect on Peter. Simply, he hadn’t given a thought of what could happen if Peter discovered the truth. He was too focused on making sure this wouldn’t happen…
“I’m sorry, Peter,” Neal whispered.
Peter looked up and shrugged. “It’s okay.”
“And yet you agreed to vouch for my sentence to be dropped. Even though you don’t think I deserve it.”
Peter looked at Neal sideways and a small smile brushed his lips. “I just want you to be happy, Neal. And I value your good actions more than the bad ones. You did a lot of good. A lot. You deserved that early release. I’m truly sorry it didn’t work out.”
Neal didn’t answer. He wished he could say it was all fine. But it wasn’t, not really.
“You only have six months left, Neal,” Peter went on. “It’s not that bad. It would be too bad to screw it all now. In six months you get a clean plate again. We’ll work it out.”
Neal nodded. He liked the sound of the “we”.
“So,” Peter went on, “who do you want to be your new handler?”
Neal looked up at him. “I get to choose my handler?” he asked, incredulous.
Peter shrugged, a little embarrassed. ‘Yeah. Well, that’s the least I can do. So, would you rather have someone from the office, or someone outside?”
“I can pick my handler,” Neal repeated. “What kind of supervising officer are you?” he chuckled.
“Not a very good one, I know,” Peter muttered, looking down.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“This isn’t funny, Neal. Look, I had reviewed a few pretty good candidates. You seemed to get along well with Agent Siegel. I could find you someone with a similar profile. Otherwise, Jones is willing to take you under his wing.”
It blurted out if Neal’s mouth before he could even realize it. “Can’t it be you?”
Peter looked up at Neal, a quizzical look on his face.
“I know you’re ASAC now,” Neal pressed on, “but you’re still actively conducting investigation on the field. I won’t be that much of a hassle – I’ll make an effort, I promise. And Diana and Jones can keep an eye on me whenever you’re stuck with paperwork.”
Mention of his administrative duties made Peter winced.
“Is that really what you want? I thought you had enough of me,” Peter said in a small voice, sounding resigned. “I know things have been a little rocky between us the past few months, but I felt like you were pushing away. Each time I tried to cross that bridge, you stepped back. There was a time, when you’d say that, anklet or not, you’d be stepping out of the elevator on the 21st floor. Now I have the feeling that the minute the anklet comes off, you’ll be gone.”
Neal felt a knot in his stomach. There was some truth in Peter’s words. Not that he’ll be gone, but he did have enough of being the FBI’s too valuable asset.
“Something changed,” Peter continued. “That’s probably my fault. I asked too much of you. I’ve been mixing two different things. My desire to see you reform, and using you as a CI. On the one hand, I encourage you to go straight, and on the other hand I ask you to be a criminal for us. And in all this, I’ve been driven by what I wanted for you. I thought you wanted to change while I was only projecting my own desires on you. And it’s not right. I can’t force you to change if you don’t want to.”
Peter took a sip from his beer. “But then, I’m not sure I still have it to be your handler. Everyone – Philip, Agent Siegel – they all ended arresting their CIs, sent them back to jail. I don’t want that. It’d kill me. That cat and mouse game we’ve been playing, it’d stopped being fun a long time ago. Now, each time I catch you doing something wrong, it’s just painful, Neal.”
“But –“ Neal protested, but Peter cut him off.
“I first thought that by being your handler, and covering for you, I was protecting you. But I’m not sure anymore. It feels more like I’m indulging you and it’s going to lead us both to the point where I won’t be able to protect you anymore and we’ll go down together.”
Neal suddenly stood up, pushing back his chair behind, anger boiling in his veins.
“But I want to change Peter! I don’t want to be criminal anymore. You made me believe I could be something else, someone good. And I believed you. And now you’re telling me I can’t? If even you stop believing in me, then…”
Neal bent forward and stepped closer to Peter. “Something changed you said? You stopped thinking I could change, you stopped seeing anything but the criminal, that’s what changed.”
“I’m just trying to accept you, the way you are, Neal. Of course, you’re much more than a criminal. I’ve always believed it and I still do. But I’m not sure of what you want. And I thought I owed you to respect your choices, whether I agreed with them or not. You keep telling me you want to go straight, and yet you keep planning things behind my back. And, well, it hurts a little. I’m willing to work it out, because I don’t want to lose you, but we need to be honest with each other.”
Peter sent Neal a pained look, and the young man’s heart sank abruptly in his chest. Peter knew. For some reason, Peter always knew. Neal had asked Mozzie to crack the anklet again. He wasn’t sure if he’d run, but he meant it when he said he would get his freedom no matter what. At least at the time. As he thought back about it, Neal realized with terror that it must have been right when Peter was turning down his promotion for him. No wonder it hurt, and probably more than a little.
He swallowed hard the lump in his throat. “You know.”
The conversation didn’t exactly go where Peter thought it would. It seemed that he had misread Neal’s intentions. Standing opposite to him, jaws clenched, hands shaking, Neal was visibly upset. Peter felt an urge of guilt shooting through his chest.
“You know,” Neal said. And that fact seemed to shake him. He slowly sat back on his chair.
Peter’s first instinct was to withhold, bluff. Let Neal talk, thinking he did know, and fill out the blanks. But somehow, that didn’t feel right. Not this time. Trust was a two way street, and if Peter wanted Neal to trust him and open up, he had to be honest too.
“Actually, all I know is that you and Mozzie were onto something,” he admitted. “Something worth not running for.”
Neal let go a sour chuckle and hid his face in his hands. His glass of wine was sitting, untouched and forgotten, next to him on the table.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally. And Peter knew he really was. “I was angry about my release being rejected. I asked Mozzie to crack the anklet. I didn’t really mean it. I mean, at the time, I was determined to get my freedom no matter what. I thought I had earned it. But I – I don’t know. I wouldn’t have run. I think.”
Peter’s heart quickened in his chest. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to control the anger rising.
“Damn it, Neal,” he hissed through his clenched teeth.
“I’m not going to run. Peter,” Neal implored, “you have to believe me. I’ll talk to Mozzie. Ask him not to mess with the anklet. That was wrong. I’m sorry.”
All of a sudden, Neal stood up again and run to his walk-in closet. Peter heard him rummaging through some things. When he came back, he was holding that scary and full of teeth weapon from the T-Rex case. A piece of evidence that had mysteriously disappeared.
Peter’s heart missed a beat.
“Take it,” Neal said as he slid it on the table to Peter. “Take it, I don’t want it. I shouldn’t have taken it in the first place. I’ll reimburse the 2 millions too. I’m sorry, Peter. I don’t know why I keep doing those things, but I don’t want to be that guy anymore. I don’t want to be a criminal anymore I just don’t know how not to be one. . I don’t want you to see me as a criminal. You had every reason to be mad at me, but that still hurts, when you call me a criminal. I want to change, but I don’t know how to do that. All I know is that I won’t be able to do it without you.”
Neal’s imploring look shot Peter right through the heart. He had dropped all his guards, and he appeared suddenly in all his vulnerability and insecurity.
Peter distinctly felt the blood drain from his face, and then, as Neal’s words sank in, he felt a fuzzy warmth grow in his chest, rising to his cheeks and ears. Something had changed all right. Neal had changed, probably more than he had realized himself.
He stood up and threw himself at Neal, taking him in his arms, almost lifting him from the ground.
“Peter?”
Peter stepped back to look at Neal while keeping a hold on his shoulder. He gave him a warm and comforting smile and he could feel he was dangerously close from getting wet eyes. When he spoke, his throat seemed suddenly tight.
“I’m not sure what to say. I’m sorry I doubted you, Neal. I’m glad you do want to go straight. And I do believe you and I believe you can. I’ll be there for you, always, as long as you need me. Hell, obviously you have actually changed already, and I didn’t see it...”
“You think I’ve changed?”
“Well, I remember a time where you were proud of being a criminal. And not so long ago you would never have confessed all those things to me.” Peter gestured toward the weapon on the table. “Really, though? That macuahu – that thing?”
Neal shrugged. He still looked a little uncertain.
“Never mind, it’s good you gave it back,” Peter said softly, giving Neal a light pat on the back. “And tell Mozzie he can keep the 2 millions as long as he can refrain to getting you in trouble till the end of your sentence.”
Neal shot him a surprised look and Peter smirked.
They sat back at the table and both took a sip of their drinks. A vaguely awkward silent settled. Neal was looking somewhat expectantly at Peter.
“Okay, then,” Peter finally said. “You and me. back on the same team. I like that.”
Neal smiled and his joy was so visible, so earnest, that it was almost painful. Peter wasn’t sure why Neal was clinging to him to strongly, but he promised himself to try harder not to disappoint him again.
“Good,” he said, smiling back, as he relaxed in his chair. He took a finale large gulp of his beer and set it back on the table. “I’m only asking you one thing. Whenever you find yourself into troubles, you come to me. And before you do anything stupid.”
Neal nodded.
“And don’t think keeping things from me is protecting me,” Peter went on. “I can take care of myself. But if you want me by your side, I need to know what I’m getting into, you understand?”
“Yes, I do. I’m sorry for –“
Peter waved it off. “Whatever we did in the past, it’s in the past. We can’t change it. But we can move on and decide what we want for the future. And, I should probably not say that if I’m remaining your handler, but, unless I catch you sleeping with my wife, I’m not throwing you back in prison, Neal.”
Neal chuckled. “I’m pretty safe then. I won’t, I swear.”
“My point is, you can trust me. But you have to trust me.”
A much more comfortable settled.
Neal pointed at Peter’s empty beer. “Another one?”
Peter looked at his watch and got up. “I’d better go, I have to take care of Satchmo. I told him I’d be home early for him tonight.”
That got Neal to laugh. He walked Peter to the door and as Peter was about to pass the threshold, Neal called him back.
“Peter?”
He turned around.
“What about you come by for dinner tomorrow night, then?”
Peter smiled. “I’d love that. See you tomorrow, Neal.”
Second Tuesday
11:00 AM, Riverside
Neal took a deep breath. “I don’t want to run, Moz’,” he said. “Please, don’t touch the anklet.”
Mozzie looked at him intensely, his eyes narrowed to slits as if he scanning through Neal’s skull. Not at ease, Neal tried to hold his gaze. Finally, Mozzie slowly leaned back, visibly disappointed, and Neal felt guilty. It seemed he could never find a way to honor a friend without betraying the other. Why did they have to be so complicated?
“I can’t do that to Peter. He just found me.”
“We found you,” Mozzie countered, pouting. “I worked just as hard as The Suit. I even worked with The Suit.”
Neal felt a fuzzy glow grow inside his chest. He smiled at the idea of Peter and Mozzie working begrudgingly together for the common goal to find him.
“Thank you, Moz’,” he said foundly.
“I won’t say I approve your choice of friends, but there’s no denying The Suit seems pretty attached to you. He even gave me access to all your case reports.”
Neal could hardly believe what he was hearing, and he wasn’t sure what was the most impressive. That Mozzie accepted to work hand in hand with Peter, reading through endless case files, or that Peter let the little guy read all those files. Neal tried to remember if Peter knew about Mozzie’s eidetic memory.
“But I guess I see your point,” Mozzie said softly. “It might not be very fair to The Suit. Plus, I’m sure he suspects something,” he added quickly.
Neal shot him a reproachful look. “So it’s you! What did you say?”
“Nothing! But it’s like he has this radar sense. Like a bat or something. Except it even works through the phone. A sort of mystic lie detector. Or maybe it’s a microchip implanted in his brain…”
Neal looked at his friend with growing disbelief, and discreetly moved the bottle away from him. Though he couldn’t deny he felt the same about Peter’s ability to read right through him sometimes…
10:00 PM, Riverside
Slumped on that really comfortable couch, Peter felt he was losing battle against sleep. His eyelids were getting really heavy. Maybe he could close his eyes for a moment and simply listen to the film… He still had some sleep to catch on. Or maybe it was Neal’s wine, or the heavenly meal… He should probably get home, but his home seemed so far, and that couch was so comfortable…
His phone ringtone startled him out of his half-asleep state. Peter screwed his eyes to identify the caller and straightened up. As he moved he heard Neal moaned at his side. Looking over, Peter saw the young man was sound asleep. The phone call hadn’t even waken him up. He only slightly pushed over to keep his head rested on Peter’s shoulder. Not willing to wake him up, Peter didn’t dare move away.
“Hey hon!” he whispered as he tried to rub off the sleep from his eyes. He shot a look at Neal who was… sound asleep next to him,.
“Hi hon,” a cheerful El answered him. “Where are you, I tried to get you on Skype, but your laptop isn’t on.”
“Sorry, El. I’m at Neal’s. Did I forget to said we’d call?”
El’s light laugh over the phone sounded like a crystal water spring. “No, I was just checking on you. Why are you whispering?”
“Neal’s asleep.”
“Then why are you there?”
“He invited me over for dinner.”
“Oh look at you, dodging cooking duties. Have you two talked?”
“Yes, we did.”
“And?”
“And he invited me to dinner.”
“Oh, great. So I guess all is good.”
Neal stirred and sat up, shooting Peter an inquiring – and sleepy – look.
“All is good?” Peter asked me softly.
Neal nodded slowly.
“All is good,” Peter reported to El.
“Who is it?” Neal asked, holding back a yawn.
“El.”
“Hi, El,” Neal said out loud.
“Hi, Neal. Sorry I woke you up. I’ll let you boys get back to sleep. I’ll call you back tomorrow, hon.”
“Okay, bye hon, I love you.”
Manhattan, 5:30 PM
The Bureau routine felt comfortably familiar. If it wasn’t for his sore ribs, Neal could have believed nothing had happened, and that he hadn’t been missing for a week. The entire team had welcomed him back with cheerful smiles and warm pats in the back. It felt good, being back. It felt also a little intimidating realizing that he had become a true member of the team, one that everyone had fought hard to find back.
They all had a load of work to catch up on, after an active week of looking for Neal, and he barely had the chance to catch up with Peter, as the ASAC hadn’t had a chance to leave his office all day. Until he gestured to Neal from his desk to come join him in his office.
Neal knocked on Peter’s door and let himself in.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yes, sit down. How is your first day back going?”
“Fine. It actually feels nice to get back to work. Especially normal, boring cases.”
Peter chuckled.
“So, I’ve been thinking. I’m going to DC this weekend.”
Neal nodded and plastered his best poker face not to show his chagrin at the perspective to be left alone. He felt a little foolish thinking that way, but it seemed that he was in need for company.
“I cannot not go. I barely got the chance to drive El down there, and she needs my help to finish settling down. She wants to do some shopping for – stuff, you know, whatever. So, I’m going to D.C.”
“And…” Neal asked. “Do you need me to sit Satchmo?”
“No! No, no. Well, Satch is coming with us.”
“Us?”
“I mean, if you want. How would you feel coming down to D.C this weekend?”
Neal’s jaw dropped. Washington. Excitement spiked suddenly. “Could we go visit a museum?” he asked cheerfully.
Peter smirked. “I’m pretty sure we’ll get a tour of the National Gallery. Though I might have to keep you on a tight leash… Literally “
“We’re going to Washington!”
“And if you behave, there might even be other trips. Now go, I’m still half a week behind in my paperwork.”
‘You, Peter Burke, late in your paperwork?”
“And whose fault is that?”
“Now that’s low, Peter, really low.”
“The quicker I finish it, the quicker we’ll be back on the field. So go.”
Author:
aragarnaArtist:
eldorahWord Count: 20 400
Characters, pairings: Peter, Neal, Elizabeth, Mozzie, various FBI agents.
Rating: general audience, gen.
Warnings: none
Spoilers: up to 5x13
Summary: post-season 5. Neal goes missing, El goes to DC, Peter gets restless and Mozzie steps over the line.
Second Saturday
05:42 AM, South of Camden, New Jersey.
The first hints of dawn were making their way, chasing the darkness of the night. Under the joint command of Peter and SWAT officer Clarkson, agents had been divided into three teams, each approaching the target from different directions. They had orders to stop at reasonable distance from the house, closing in by foot, in the greatest silence possible, in order to surround the house.
Peter stopped his car, and Agent Rice exited. They would lead the team approaching up front, down the path from the main road. They would have a few minutes, waiting for everyone to take position around the house, and Peter thought this would be the perfect moment to grab a bite. He took his sandwich out of the lunch bag El had made for him and followed Rice. They took their positions and Peter opened the wrapping and started eating with appetite as he kept his eyes on the house, looking for any sign of movement.
Alerted by the smell, Rice turned to Peter a horrified face. “What is that?!”
“Devilled ham,” Peter said with gluttony. “Want some?”
Rice looked positively horrified. “No thanks.” Then she added. “How can you eat that so early?”
Peter shrugged and swallowed a big bite of his sandwich, thankful of his wife for being so awesome. He was just finishing when his radio crackled. “Perimeter is set, Peter. Waiting on your signal.”
“It’s a go!” Peter shouted through the radio. He secured his gun in his hands and move toward the house.
06:20 PM, South of Camden, New Jersey.
The room was empty. Neal wasn’t there. There was an old mattress lying in the corner of the deem basement, with stains that looked suspiciously like dry blood. Peter felt like a punch in his stomach and for a second he couldn’t breathe. Suddenly he turned around and run back upstairs where FBI agents were cuffing Finnigan, Parker and a couple of other thugs caught in. Charging at Parker, the one they had assumed was the leader of the group, Peter grabbed him by the collar and slammed him violently against the wall behind.
“Where is he?” he roared in the face of Parker, ignoring the other agents trying to pull him away. “Where is Neal?”
Parker wasn’t of the kind to be intimidated by some rough handling and he simply shrugged. Peter pressed him harder and higher, Parker’s feet lifted above the ground.
“Where. Is. He.” Peter repeated in a low voice.
“They moved him.” Parker finally admitted, in a choked voice.
Peter released his hold. “When, where?”
“Yesterday.”
“Where?” Peter repeated, his tone once again menacing.
“I don’t know, I swear.”
Peter stepped closer. “Who?”
Parker exchanged a look with Finnigan.
“I want a deal,” he finally said. “Official. On paper.”
They were running out of time. They had to find Neal before the end of the day. Peter didn’t have the money, and he was three hours from Penn Station.
“I want a name!” he roared.
Parker shook his head.
Peter breathed heavily and pinched his nose. “Give me their phones,” he urged to Jones.
Flipping through the call logs of both phones, Peter quickly spotted a common name, called several times in the last few days. He looked intensely at both men.
“Simmons,” he said. Finnigan flinched. Peter grinned coldly. Parker sent his partner a dark look.
“Take them in,” he ordered to his Agents. “And put a trace on this number,” he asked Jones.
07:34 PM, Another remote house near Camden, New Jersey.
Gun drawn and steady in his hands, Peter angrily kicked the door hard with his foot. The lock gave with a loud crack. The room was small and gloomy, with only a dim light filtering from upstairs. It was empty, except for a slumped figure dumped in a corner who stirred slightly at the commotion of Peter’s noisy entrance. Peter rushed to it and dropped to his knees.
“Neal?” he called softly.
The young man turned his face toward his friend and a slight smile brushed his lips. Peter gently moved Neal’s dumped hair away from his face to get a clear look at him. His lower lip was swollen and a bruise was visible on the side of his chin. There was also a mark of dried blood at the base of his hairline. Peter clenched his teeth as he felt his heart sank in his chest.
“Neal?” Peter repeated, as he anxiously glared at Neal’s dirty and at part torn shirt and pants. A lump caught him at the throat as he caught sight of Neal’s bare feet and hands bonded so tight that the plastic restrains were tearing his skin.
Peter turned to the agents standing at the door. “Get me some paramedics here, now!” The agents nodded and disappeared, leaving the two friends together.
Taking a knife out of his pocket, Peter cut Neal’s ties. He tried to be as gentle as he could, but Neal couldn’t suppress a moan, which in turn made Peter winced.
“…found me,” Neal whispered in a hoarse voice.
Peter cleared his throat in what sounded dangerously like a sob. “Of course. I’m the worldwide expert at finding Neal Caffrey.”
“This one doesn’t count.”
Freed, Neal laboriously sat up and Peter sat by his side, wrapping a protective arm around Neal’s shoulders. “No, it doesn’t,” he said softly. “But that’s the one that matters the most.”
“Thank you, Peter,” Neal whispered. Looking up, he greeted Peter of a warm smile. Peter felt his heart crack slightly. Those genuine smiles had been quite sparse the past few months.
Neal leaned in against Peter and rested his head on his shoulder.
“I knew you’d find me.”
Peter chuckled lightly and squeezed Neal’s shoulder. “I knew you didn’t run.”
09:00 PM, Bellevue Hospital.
A medical chopper had brought Neal back to New York on Peter’s insistence. Paramedics had argued they had a decent enough ER in Camden, but the agent, flashing his badge and making calls had obtained a helicopter to transport Neal home. Peter had climbed in with him, refusing to leave his side, for which Neal had been silently grateful. During the entire course of the short flight, Peter had kept a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder.
As they approached the island, Neal was warmed by the sight of the familiar shapes of Manhattan skyscrapers. He looked up at Peter whose eyes were still on him. They exchanged a silent smile.
Neal was quickly admitted into a room, and it wasn’t long until he was taken to run X-rays and a CT scan. Peter only reluctantly let go of Neal and sat on the second bed, unoccupied at the moment.
“I’ll be right back,” Neal said lightly.
“And I’ll be right here,” Peter answered in a matching tone.
Left alone, Peter finally allowed himself to let go. All the tension that had grown inside of him for the past week violently broke and Peter felt immensely tired. Big tears run down his eyes, rolling along his cheeks, down his chin. He didn’t make a move to brush them away, he let them go, and with them the strain, the fear. They were tears of relief. The relief of having found Neal in time, alive, safe and sound – mostly. The relief of having been able to make justice prevail, when it mattered the most, when he was emotionally compromised. Parker and Finnigan were in custody. Tomorrow, they’ll interrogate them. They’ll put surveillance around the YMCA. Arrest the last one. The wheels of Justice were already rolling. And the balance will be restored, as soon as Neal came back from his X-ray check.
Peter looked at the pillow beside him. It looked incredibly attractive…
09:30 PM, Bellevue Hospital.
Neal went through his exams in a blurry haze. Now that the tension had broken off, he was exhausted. All patched up, they rolled him back to his room. What he saw there brought a smile on his face. Peter was curled up on top of the second bed, in a fetal position, sound asleep.
“Don’t wake him up,” Neal asked the doctor. “I have the feeling he had quite a few hours of sleep to catch up on.”
Eyelids heavier by the minute, it wasn’t long until Neal joined him.
10:00 PM, Bellevue Hospital.
Elizabeth ran to the admission desk.
“Neal Caffrey,” she asked, out of breath.
“Visitor hours are over, m’am,” the clerk said laconically.
“Peter Burke, my husband, he’s here too.”
The clerk looked at her log and shook her head. “I have no one under this name.”
Elizabeth felt her blood boiled. Luckily, a nurse approached her. “They’re in Room 11, please follow me. Given the hour, I would ask you to be quiet and make your visit as short as possible.”
Elizabeth nodded and followed the nurse down the corridor. In front of Room 11, she took a deep breath and composed herself a little before knocking lightly and pushed the door. The room was in the dark, the only light coming from the opened door. Neal and Peter were sleeping and didn’t move when she came in.
For a moment, she was alarmed by the sight of Peter lying on a bed. He hadn’t said anything about being hurt when he had called earlier to give her the happy news that Neal had been found and would be fine. But coming closer, she noticed that he was still wearing his clothes, including his bulletproof vest, and was curled over the cover. His breathing was even and his face was peaceful.
Elizabeth smiled. Of course, now that Neal was safe, Peter could relax and sleep. She sat next to her husband on the bed and brushed his hair and the small of his neck. He stirred and finally opened his eyes, smiling at the sight of her.
Sitting up, Peter looked over at Neal, still deep asleep.
“How is he?” El whispered.
Peter looked at her, then back to Neal. “He’s… fine? Damn, I fell asleep, I didn’t see him coming back. I don’t actually know. I should probably find his doctor.”
“He’s going to be fine,” The nurse on duty informed them. “He has a bruised rib, a deep laceration of the scalp, and a few bruises and superficial cuts. He’s slightly dehydrated and the doctor advised to keep him under observation for 24 hours.”
Elizabeth was tightly holding Peter’s arm, a lump in her throat. The nurse didn’t seem worried, but she couldn’t help feeling distraught by what it meant about the way his captors had treated Neal.
As they were heading back to Neal’s room, the nurse called them back. “Hmm, Agent Burke? We’re way past visitor hour, please keep it short.”
Peter sighed. Elizabeth could see he was reluctant to leave his friend, and she knew exactly why. He was the same after she was kidnapped by Keller a couple years ago. He wouldn’t let her out of his sight. It was his way of saying “I’m here now, you’re safe”. It was also probably a reassurance for himself that indeed, his loved ones were there, safe and sound.
“Two minutes,” Peter promised.
The nurse smiled and nodded. “Two minutes.”
Second Sunday
04:00 AM, Bellevue Hospital.
Neal woke up in a jolt and disoriented. For a moment he thought he was still being held hostage, but he quickly realized that he was in a bed. It took him some time to remember the rescue, Peter’s anxious eyes, then his smile. Neal turned his head to the side, trying to distinguish through the darkness Peter’s figure on the bed next to his. But the bed was empty, making Neal’s anxiety rise again.
Suddenly Neal realized there was something tugged between his fingers. It was a piece of paper. Neal reached for his bedside lamp, switched the light on and looked at the piece of paper. He unfolded it and the sight of Peter’s distinctive handwriting made him smile.
Neal,
We got kick out by the nurse. I didn’t want to wake you up. I’ll be back in the morning. Get some rest.
Peter
10:30 AM, Bellevue Hospital.
Neal was woken by the muffled noise of a heated conversation. It was daylight now. The room was empty. The sound was coming from just outside his door. Neal listened carefully. One of the voices was definitely Peter’s and he didn’t seem happy.
“He’s not even awake yet! This can wait. He’s not going anywhere.”
“It’s just the procedure, Burke,” someone said, sounded just as annoyed as Peter. “We need to know what happened.”
“I told you, it was a kidnapping. Look, he’ll make a full report to you as soon as he’s released. You have my word.”
“We still need to –“
“Give it to me, I’ll put it on myself.”
Neal relaxed on his pillow. He wasn’t sure what the stir was about, but whatever it was, it felt good to hear Peter defending him.
Peter cautiously pushed the door and glanced at Neal. When he saw he was awake, he greeted him with a bright smile.
“Hey!”
“Hey yourself.”
“How are you?”
Neal shrugged, which turned out to be a bad move and he winced. “I’m fine,” he said nonetheless.
“Right, I see that,” Peter smirked. He tilted his head, rising an eyebrow. He wouldn’t let this go so easily.
“Okay, my body hurts. And where it doesn’t hurt, it itches. But I’m good, really. It’s not the worse I had, you know.”
Neal was aiming for some lightness, but Peter didn’t seem in the right mood, as he suddenly turned very pale.
“Really?” he asked, emotion sensible in his voice.
“I’m just glad this is all over,” Neal said quickly.
Peter let go a heavy sigh. “Yes, me too.”
Neal caught a shadow passing over his friend’s face. “You okay?”
Peter forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I am. Now.”
“Long week, huh?”
“You could say that.”
Neal pointed at the door. “So what was that about, outside?”
Peter shook his head with clear annoyance. “The Marshals.”
That’s only then that Neal realized he wasn’t wearing his anklet. Peter had left him the whole night on his own, without surveillance or restraints. He could have run. That was probably the subject of that conversation Neal had just overheard.
“They thought I run?” he asked. Peter nodded. “Is that why you insisted on getting me transported to Manhattan? To have me back into my radius?”
Peter shrugged. “It was more that I needed to feel you back inside my radius. And in case they wanted to keep you here for a few days, it would have made it easier for me to visit. I was worried and… I just wanted to bring you home. That was a little foolish, wasn’t it?”
“Wait –“ Truly, Neal was slow today. “Home? Isn’t home D.C., now, for you?” He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. Peter would have to leave for D.C. soon, leaving him alone here in New York for the rest of his time to serve. He suddenly felt betrayed that Peter hadn’t taken him to D.C. instead.
A sad smile brushed Peter’s lips. “I didn’t go to D.C.”
Neal frowned. “What?”
“I’m staying at my good old White Collar division of the Bureau’s Manhattan office after all.”
Neal was dumbfounded. “Why? What happened?”
“They turned down your demand for an early release. That’s what happened.”
Neal was now staring at Peter with wide opened eyes. He felt like his heart went through all the colors of the emotional rainbow: shocked by the news, pained for his friend, grateful that they’ll be able to stay together, moved him to his bones. He knew he should say something, but he couldn’t find the words.
“How about Elizabeth?”
“She still went for that job at the National Gallery. She likes it there. I think. It’s not exactly been the easiest week, for any of us, it’s been difficult settling down in our new life. Hopefully it’ll be easier now.”
“I’m sorry,” Neal said in a low voice.
Peter shrugged. “It’s not your fault you got kidnapped.”
“So, who was it?”
“We have a couple guys in custody. Finnigan and Parker. And we’re still looking for Simmons. Do any of these names ring a bell to you?”
Neal shook his head. “Were any of them wearing cowboy boots?”
Peter thought for a while. “Yes, Parker, I think.”
Peter’s phone buzzed. He retrieved it from his jacket’s chest pocket and a predatory smile suddenly appeared on his face as he read the text.
“Oh, they just found Simmons. I gotta go.”
Neal could distinctly see the sparks in his dark pupils. Simmons – who ever that was – better be prepared to face the wrath of Special Agent Peter Burke.
But when he turned to Neal, the usual kindness had returned in Peter’s eyes, with a hint of additional embarrassment, as he pulled the anklet from his pocket.
“You have to put this back on; otherwise they won’t leave you alone.”
Neal sat as he pulled the cover to show his leg. There was a bandage around his ankle, where the plastic restrains had torn Neal’s skin. Peter stopped, unsure of what to do.
“Just put it on, it’s okay,” Neal insisted. “The bandage should protect my skin.”
Peter wrapped the electronic device around Neal’s ankle. It biped and the green light appeared.
“You’re sure it doesn’t hurt?”
Neal shook his head. Not this time.
Peter fidgeted on his phone and smiled happily as he watched the screen. “There you are, right where you are.”
This had Neal to chuckle. “I’m not sure how I should feel seeing you so cheerful to track me on your phone.”
Peter shrugged. “Tracking you is my second nature.”
Neal looked pensively at his anklet. It felt heavy. “So, what now?” he asked.
Peter turned serious and looked at Neal. “Well, I guess we’re both back to work at the White Collar division.” A frown appeared on his forehead and he sighed. “I know this isn’t what you were hoping but… I’ll find you an new handler.”
Neal’s heart sank. “A new handler,” he cut off.
“Yes, I had reviewed a few pretty good candidates. You seemed to get along well with Agent Siegel. I could find you someone with a similar profile. Otherwise, Jones is willing to take you under his wing.”
Neal didn’t know what to say. His chest felt tight. Or maybe it was the air suddenly feeling thick.
“But for now, get some rest. I’ll see if I can get you a couple days off,” Peter went on, “See you later, Neal.”
Neal nodded and didn’t answer.
11:00 AM, Bellevue Hospital
The door opened and Elizabeth appeared, a steaming hot cup of coffee in her hand. She literally lit up as she caught sight of Neal.
“Good morning, Neal,” she greeted him warmly, as she put the cup aside on the bed trail and came to give him a warm and gentle hug.
“Good morning, Elizabeth. It’s good to see you.”
“Good to see you too. We’ve been so worried about you.”
Neal smiled reassuringly. “I’m fine now. It’s over.”
Elizabeth nodded.
“Did you catch Peter?” Neal asked. “He left not long ago.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “He went back to the office to wrap up the investigation. He mentioned some payback time, too.”
Elizabeth looked at her watch and smiled bravely at Neal. She didn’t say a thing but it wasn’t difficult for Neal to read her mind. She wouldn’t have seen her husband much of the weekend, and in a few hours, she’ll have to leave.
“He promised he’d come back as fast as he could,” he said.
Elizabeth laughed lightly. “He told me that too. And for once, I do believe he won’t do any extra hours.”
“He misses you,” Neal approved.
Elizabeth reached of a cup of coffee and settled in the visitor chair next to Neal’s bed. “There’s that. And there’s you, too,” she said.
As Neal raised an eyebrow, she explained. “I get the feeling he isn’t going to let you go far from his sight for a few days. It’s his way to deal with those things.”
“I don’t think I’ll mind, for once,” Neal said with a smile.
“How is your new job at the National Gallery?” he asked.
Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with happiness. “It’s amazing. Have you ever been there?”
Neal tilted his head, an enigmatic smile on his lips. “A few times. Allegedly.”
“Of course…” Elizabeth sighed, amused.
Neal quickly changed the subject to a less slippery ground. “Are you finding your way around DC?”
“I’m still adjusting. It’s been a difficult week, and though my body was in DC, my mind and heart remained in New York.”
“It must be hard, without Peter.” Neal said softly. “You two seem so organically linked. I can’t imagine you living separately.”
Elizabeth looked up at Neal. “It is a little hard, but we’ll manage. It’s not going to be a permanent arrangement. Eventually, either Peter will join me in Washington, or I’ll come back to New York. I still have a few options here. But for now, this is what we want, and we’ll make it work. And now that he’s found you, it should be a little easier.”
“It’s my fault.”
“Oh Neal, don’t think that for a minute. If someone’s to blame for the situation, it’s Peter and his indecisions.”
“But if it wasn’t for my sentence…”
“You and I both know he wouldn’t really have been happy as a section chief in DC. It’s the best for everyone. I got to get the job of my dreams, Peter will continue to work actively on White Collar cases, and you’ll have him at your side until the end.”
A shadow clouded Neal’s gaze and he looked down. “I’m not sure how close from his side he still wants me.”
Elizabeth frowned. “Why is that?”
“Well…” Neal was a little uncertain. “Before everything happened, things at work were a little edgy.”
“Oh, honey,” Elizabeth said, “Peter just spent a sleepless week moving earth and heaven to find you.”
Neal looked embarrassed. “I know, Elizabeth. I didn’t mean… I’m just not sure where we stand right now. I thought we were okay. But he said he’d find me a new handler. I don’t know anymore. I’m not even sure why he vouched for my early release.”
Elizabeth bent over and grabbed Neal’s hand. She waited for him to look at her before speaking softly. “I know Peter can be… difficult, sometimes. But he loves you. Don’t ever forget that.”
“But will he take me back?”
Elizabeth looked fondly at Neal. “If that’s what you want, tell him.”
5:03 PM, Penn Station, platform 9
They didn’t speak much during the ride to the station. Holding Elizabeth’s suitcase in one hand, her hand in the other, Peter walked his wife to the platform. They didn’t need the small talks, nor the effusion of great good byes. They simply breathed in each other’s presence, enjoying those last minutes together.
They waited for the train huddled together, both lost in their own thoughts.
“You should talk to Neal,” Elizabeth finally said, out of the blue.
Peter frowned. “He said he’s fine. And he seems fine to me.”
“I’m not talking about the kidnapping.”
Peter sighed. “Did he say anything to you? I thought we were good.”
“But you won’t take him back?”
“What?” Peter asked, surprised.
“You’re assigning him a new handler.”
“I thought that’s what he wanted. I’m not sure where we still stand, you know. He really wanted out. I did all I could to get him an early release. It’s not happening. So I’m just trying to get him the second best solution. He didn’t seem really happy working with me lately. Which is probably my fault… But… Each times I tried to get closer to him, he pushed me back.”
“Just talk to him. Let him talk to you. And tell him how you feel. I think you both need to open up a little.”
Peter growled.
Elizabeth kissed him on the cheek. “Just think about it, okay?”
Peter nodded. He knew Elizabeth was right. He just didn’t know how to do it. He wasn’t good at it, opening up. And it was all so complicated…
When it was time for Elizabeth to get on the train, Peter wrapped his arms around her waist and they gave each other a long kiss assorted with a hug strong enough for the memory to last the entire week.
“Call me when you arrive,” Peter said as El climbed in the train and Peter handed her the suitcase.
She bent over to grab a last kiss and got inside to find a seat.
7:00 PM, Bellevue Hospital
Neal felt bored out of his mind. They wouldn’t release him until the following morning. TV was boring, and the painkillers, if effective, had a serious side effect on his ability to sketch, or even think properly. He wasn’t allowed outside his room, not without a Marshal or an FBI Agent’s supervision.
At least, his interview with the Marshals had been rather well. They seemed to have finally accepted he hadn’t run.
I knew you didn’t run. Peter’s words came back to him, as well as his earnest smile when he saw him this morning. Neal had to admit that this smile was tickling his heart in a very comforting way. And yet the Agent wouldn’t take him back… Neal wasn’t sure why this sudden swing, when everything had seemed to finally fall into places. He didn’t remember doing anything wrong. Well, not since Hagen anyway.
He did ask Mozzie to crack the anklet. Maybe Peter knew. Did he? Neal’s thought were getting fussy. He was slowly drifting into an uneasy sleep until he heard the door of his room open.
It was Peter, and he wasn’t exactly smiling. His face was a complex mix of surprise, horror, disbelief, and… amusement?
“What did you do to your hair?” he exclaimed as he stared at Neal’s new cropped-haircut.
Neal shrugged. “I had to do something. I was looking ridiculous with that missing lock on the side.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “After… this,” he said with a vague gesture toward Neal’s bruised cheek, “all you worry about is your look? Well, at least now I’m definitely convinced you’re all right.”
Neal smiled. “I am. So, did you get all the bad guys?”
“We did,” Peter said with a cocky smile. “Simmons was the one behind your kidnapping, the guy with the boots. He was working for a man named Ivanovich, Russian mob. It appears our bust a few months ago left him out of business, and with quite a debt. He wanted to make me pay for it.”
“Oh.”
“What?”
“And all this time I thought it was someone who had something against me.”
They exchanged a brief smile.
“It’s not always your fault, Neal.”
Second Monday
09:30 AM, Riverside.
Neal turned the knob and pushed the door of his apartment. He took a deep breath. He was home. And apparently not alone.
“I know you’re here,” he said loud enough.
Mozzie emerged from the bathroom. “How can you possibly know?”
Neal could point at the missing bottle of wine from the rack – now in Mozzie’s hand. Or the empty glass in the sink. He could mention his friend’s unmistakable cologne – surprisingly identifiable for a conman as invisible as Mozzie. But he didn’t say anything. Instead he gave a casual shrug assorted with a satisfied smile. “I’m that good.”
Mozzie mumbled something and retrieved two clean glasses from the cupboard and setting them on the table, he filled them generously.
“Welcome back my friend,” he simply said, offering a glass to Neal.
The young man accepted the glass and greeting with a light bow of the head as they clang their glasses and sat at the table.
The familiar routine of a shared glass with Mozzie felt good to Neal. It was all over, he was finally home. He smiled and relaxed on his chair.
6:00 PM, Riverside
Neal opened the door and smiled at Peter, who seemed to be unexpectedly nervous.
“Hi Neal,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m all good, thanks,” Neal said. “What about you? Something wrong?” Peter looked up at Neal, frowning. “You seem a little tense,” Neal noted.
Peter opened his mouth, then closed it. Finally he took a deep breath. “Could we talk?” he asked, his eyes avoiding Neal’s.
Neal felt a lump caught his throat. “Talk about what?”
Peter swallowed and gazed up at Neal, sending him an unsure look. “About us.”
Neal distinctively felt the blood drain out of his face. He didn’t know what to say and they both stood there, next to the door, none of them sure on how to react, or proceed.
“I think – El thinks – but I think she’s right, that it’d do us both some good,” Peter mumbled. “But… I want you to know that it’s not… I’m here as your friend. And I just want to clear the air. Make sure we’re all good, you know?”
Neal nodded though he wasn’t sure he really liked where this was going. He gestured Peter to seat at the table.
“Beer?” he asked, trying his best to sound casual.
Peter nodded quickly as he settled at the table. Neal retrieved a beer from the fridge, a bottle of wine from the rack, and poured himself a glass before seating opposite to Peter.
Peter went on. “That thing that we have, this strong friendship, it scares me. A little, sometimes.”
“How so?”
“We’d do anything for each other. But…”
Neal felt a knock in his stomach. They couldn’t be going there again. Not so soon. “Is this about Dawson?” He asked, a little on the defensive.
Peter looked up briefly at Neal before his gaze drifted away but it wasn’t the dark reproachful look Neal was almost expecting. Instead it was clouded, uncertain, almost afraid.
“I’m sorry Neal. I really am. I know I should thank you, for what you did, and I can’t. I know why you did it. I understand. Really I do. And I feel like a terrible friend. And it kills me to see how it hurts you…” Peter was fidgeting with the label on his beer, still unable to meet Neal’s eyes. “I’m not comfortable with the situation, what it means for me, who I’ve become. I feel like you’re dragging me to some place I don’t want to go. I don’t want to be this kind of guy, this kind of agent. There are lines I won’t cross. I serve the system, I can’t corrupt it.”
“But you didn’t. You didn’t do anything. I did it all on my own…”
“But by accepting it, I become an accomplice. I become… corrupted.”
Peter suddenly looked up at Neal and the intensity of his gaze, pleading for understanding surprised him. “I felt like I was a dirty cop and I couldn’t stand it. I could barely look at myself in the mirror when thinking about it…”
Peter’s voice faded away and he brushed a hand over his face. Silent settled. Neal didn’t know what to say. He was seeing the situation in an all new light. Too busy dealing with Hagen, the Codex, Rachel and his own pain, he never thought of how his own actions could reflect on Peter. Simply, he hadn’t given a thought of what could happen if Peter discovered the truth. He was too focused on making sure this wouldn’t happen…
“I’m sorry, Peter,” Neal whispered.
Peter looked up and shrugged. “It’s okay.”
“And yet you agreed to vouch for my sentence to be dropped. Even though you don’t think I deserve it.”
Peter looked at Neal sideways and a small smile brushed his lips. “I just want you to be happy, Neal. And I value your good actions more than the bad ones. You did a lot of good. A lot. You deserved that early release. I’m truly sorry it didn’t work out.”
Neal didn’t answer. He wished he could say it was all fine. But it wasn’t, not really.
“You only have six months left, Neal,” Peter went on. “It’s not that bad. It would be too bad to screw it all now. In six months you get a clean plate again. We’ll work it out.”
Neal nodded. He liked the sound of the “we”.
“So,” Peter went on, “who do you want to be your new handler?”
Neal looked up at him. “I get to choose my handler?” he asked, incredulous.
Peter shrugged, a little embarrassed. ‘Yeah. Well, that’s the least I can do. So, would you rather have someone from the office, or someone outside?”
“I can pick my handler,” Neal repeated. “What kind of supervising officer are you?” he chuckled.
“Not a very good one, I know,” Peter muttered, looking down.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“This isn’t funny, Neal. Look, I had reviewed a few pretty good candidates. You seemed to get along well with Agent Siegel. I could find you someone with a similar profile. Otherwise, Jones is willing to take you under his wing.”
It blurted out if Neal’s mouth before he could even realize it. “Can’t it be you?”
Peter looked up at Neal, a quizzical look on his face.
“I know you’re ASAC now,” Neal pressed on, “but you’re still actively conducting investigation on the field. I won’t be that much of a hassle – I’ll make an effort, I promise. And Diana and Jones can keep an eye on me whenever you’re stuck with paperwork.”
Mention of his administrative duties made Peter winced.
“Is that really what you want? I thought you had enough of me,” Peter said in a small voice, sounding resigned. “I know things have been a little rocky between us the past few months, but I felt like you were pushing away. Each time I tried to cross that bridge, you stepped back. There was a time, when you’d say that, anklet or not, you’d be stepping out of the elevator on the 21st floor. Now I have the feeling that the minute the anklet comes off, you’ll be gone.”
Neal felt a knot in his stomach. There was some truth in Peter’s words. Not that he’ll be gone, but he did have enough of being the FBI’s too valuable asset.
“Something changed,” Peter continued. “That’s probably my fault. I asked too much of you. I’ve been mixing two different things. My desire to see you reform, and using you as a CI. On the one hand, I encourage you to go straight, and on the other hand I ask you to be a criminal for us. And in all this, I’ve been driven by what I wanted for you. I thought you wanted to change while I was only projecting my own desires on you. And it’s not right. I can’t force you to change if you don’t want to.”
Peter took a sip from his beer. “But then, I’m not sure I still have it to be your handler. Everyone – Philip, Agent Siegel – they all ended arresting their CIs, sent them back to jail. I don’t want that. It’d kill me. That cat and mouse game we’ve been playing, it’d stopped being fun a long time ago. Now, each time I catch you doing something wrong, it’s just painful, Neal.”
“But –“ Neal protested, but Peter cut him off.
“I first thought that by being your handler, and covering for you, I was protecting you. But I’m not sure anymore. It feels more like I’m indulging you and it’s going to lead us both to the point where I won’t be able to protect you anymore and we’ll go down together.”
Neal suddenly stood up, pushing back his chair behind, anger boiling in his veins.
“But I want to change Peter! I don’t want to be criminal anymore. You made me believe I could be something else, someone good. And I believed you. And now you’re telling me I can’t? If even you stop believing in me, then…”
Neal bent forward and stepped closer to Peter. “Something changed you said? You stopped thinking I could change, you stopped seeing anything but the criminal, that’s what changed.”
“I’m just trying to accept you, the way you are, Neal. Of course, you’re much more than a criminal. I’ve always believed it and I still do. But I’m not sure of what you want. And I thought I owed you to respect your choices, whether I agreed with them or not. You keep telling me you want to go straight, and yet you keep planning things behind my back. And, well, it hurts a little. I’m willing to work it out, because I don’t want to lose you, but we need to be honest with each other.”
Peter sent Neal a pained look, and the young man’s heart sank abruptly in his chest. Peter knew. For some reason, Peter always knew. Neal had asked Mozzie to crack the anklet again. He wasn’t sure if he’d run, but he meant it when he said he would get his freedom no matter what. At least at the time. As he thought back about it, Neal realized with terror that it must have been right when Peter was turning down his promotion for him. No wonder it hurt, and probably more than a little.
He swallowed hard the lump in his throat. “You know.”
-----------------------------------
The conversation didn’t exactly go where Peter thought it would. It seemed that he had misread Neal’s intentions. Standing opposite to him, jaws clenched, hands shaking, Neal was visibly upset. Peter felt an urge of guilt shooting through his chest.
“You know,” Neal said. And that fact seemed to shake him. He slowly sat back on his chair.
Peter’s first instinct was to withhold, bluff. Let Neal talk, thinking he did know, and fill out the blanks. But somehow, that didn’t feel right. Not this time. Trust was a two way street, and if Peter wanted Neal to trust him and open up, he had to be honest too.
“Actually, all I know is that you and Mozzie were onto something,” he admitted. “Something worth not running for.”
Neal let go a sour chuckle and hid his face in his hands. His glass of wine was sitting, untouched and forgotten, next to him on the table.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally. And Peter knew he really was. “I was angry about my release being rejected. I asked Mozzie to crack the anklet. I didn’t really mean it. I mean, at the time, I was determined to get my freedom no matter what. I thought I had earned it. But I – I don’t know. I wouldn’t have run. I think.”
Peter’s heart quickened in his chest. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to control the anger rising.
“Damn it, Neal,” he hissed through his clenched teeth.
“I’m not going to run. Peter,” Neal implored, “you have to believe me. I’ll talk to Mozzie. Ask him not to mess with the anklet. That was wrong. I’m sorry.”
All of a sudden, Neal stood up again and run to his walk-in closet. Peter heard him rummaging through some things. When he came back, he was holding that scary and full of teeth weapon from the T-Rex case. A piece of evidence that had mysteriously disappeared.
Peter’s heart missed a beat.
“Take it,” Neal said as he slid it on the table to Peter. “Take it, I don’t want it. I shouldn’t have taken it in the first place. I’ll reimburse the 2 millions too. I’m sorry, Peter. I don’t know why I keep doing those things, but I don’t want to be that guy anymore. I don’t want to be a criminal anymore I just don’t know how not to be one. . I don’t want you to see me as a criminal. You had every reason to be mad at me, but that still hurts, when you call me a criminal. I want to change, but I don’t know how to do that. All I know is that I won’t be able to do it without you.”
Neal’s imploring look shot Peter right through the heart. He had dropped all his guards, and he appeared suddenly in all his vulnerability and insecurity.
Peter distinctly felt the blood drain from his face, and then, as Neal’s words sank in, he felt a fuzzy warmth grow in his chest, rising to his cheeks and ears. Something had changed all right. Neal had changed, probably more than he had realized himself.
He stood up and threw himself at Neal, taking him in his arms, almost lifting him from the ground.
“Peter?”
Peter stepped back to look at Neal while keeping a hold on his shoulder. He gave him a warm and comforting smile and he could feel he was dangerously close from getting wet eyes. When he spoke, his throat seemed suddenly tight.
“I’m not sure what to say. I’m sorry I doubted you, Neal. I’m glad you do want to go straight. And I do believe you and I believe you can. I’ll be there for you, always, as long as you need me. Hell, obviously you have actually changed already, and I didn’t see it...”
“You think I’ve changed?”
“Well, I remember a time where you were proud of being a criminal. And not so long ago you would never have confessed all those things to me.” Peter gestured toward the weapon on the table. “Really, though? That macuahu – that thing?”
Neal shrugged. He still looked a little uncertain.
“Never mind, it’s good you gave it back,” Peter said softly, giving Neal a light pat on the back. “And tell Mozzie he can keep the 2 millions as long as he can refrain to getting you in trouble till the end of your sentence.”
Neal shot him a surprised look and Peter smirked.
They sat back at the table and both took a sip of their drinks. A vaguely awkward silent settled. Neal was looking somewhat expectantly at Peter.
“Okay, then,” Peter finally said. “You and me. back on the same team. I like that.”
Neal smiled and his joy was so visible, so earnest, that it was almost painful. Peter wasn’t sure why Neal was clinging to him to strongly, but he promised himself to try harder not to disappoint him again.
“Good,” he said, smiling back, as he relaxed in his chair. He took a finale large gulp of his beer and set it back on the table. “I’m only asking you one thing. Whenever you find yourself into troubles, you come to me. And before you do anything stupid.”
Neal nodded.
“And don’t think keeping things from me is protecting me,” Peter went on. “I can take care of myself. But if you want me by your side, I need to know what I’m getting into, you understand?”
“Yes, I do. I’m sorry for –“
Peter waved it off. “Whatever we did in the past, it’s in the past. We can’t change it. But we can move on and decide what we want for the future. And, I should probably not say that if I’m remaining your handler, but, unless I catch you sleeping with my wife, I’m not throwing you back in prison, Neal.”
Neal chuckled. “I’m pretty safe then. I won’t, I swear.”
“My point is, you can trust me. But you have to trust me.”
A much more comfortable settled.
Neal pointed at Peter’s empty beer. “Another one?”
Peter looked at his watch and got up. “I’d better go, I have to take care of Satchmo. I told him I’d be home early for him tonight.”
That got Neal to laugh. He walked Peter to the door and as Peter was about to pass the threshold, Neal called him back.
“Peter?”
He turned around.
“What about you come by for dinner tomorrow night, then?”
Peter smiled. “I’d love that. See you tomorrow, Neal.”
Second Tuesday
11:00 AM, Riverside
Neal took a deep breath. “I don’t want to run, Moz’,” he said. “Please, don’t touch the anklet.”
Mozzie looked at him intensely, his eyes narrowed to slits as if he scanning through Neal’s skull. Not at ease, Neal tried to hold his gaze. Finally, Mozzie slowly leaned back, visibly disappointed, and Neal felt guilty. It seemed he could never find a way to honor a friend without betraying the other. Why did they have to be so complicated?
“I can’t do that to Peter. He just found me.”
“We found you,” Mozzie countered, pouting. “I worked just as hard as The Suit. I even worked with The Suit.”
Neal felt a fuzzy glow grow inside his chest. He smiled at the idea of Peter and Mozzie working begrudgingly together for the common goal to find him.
“Thank you, Moz’,” he said foundly.
“I won’t say I approve your choice of friends, but there’s no denying The Suit seems pretty attached to you. He even gave me access to all your case reports.”
Neal could hardly believe what he was hearing, and he wasn’t sure what was the most impressive. That Mozzie accepted to work hand in hand with Peter, reading through endless case files, or that Peter let the little guy read all those files. Neal tried to remember if Peter knew about Mozzie’s eidetic memory.
“But I guess I see your point,” Mozzie said softly. “It might not be very fair to The Suit. Plus, I’m sure he suspects something,” he added quickly.
Neal shot him a reproachful look. “So it’s you! What did you say?”
“Nothing! But it’s like he has this radar sense. Like a bat or something. Except it even works through the phone. A sort of mystic lie detector. Or maybe it’s a microchip implanted in his brain…”
Neal looked at his friend with growing disbelief, and discreetly moved the bottle away from him. Though he couldn’t deny he felt the same about Peter’s ability to read right through him sometimes…
10:00 PM, Riverside
Slumped on that really comfortable couch, Peter felt he was losing battle against sleep. His eyelids were getting really heavy. Maybe he could close his eyes for a moment and simply listen to the film… He still had some sleep to catch on. Or maybe it was Neal’s wine, or the heavenly meal… He should probably get home, but his home seemed so far, and that couch was so comfortable…
His phone ringtone startled him out of his half-asleep state. Peter screwed his eyes to identify the caller and straightened up. As he moved he heard Neal moaned at his side. Looking over, Peter saw the young man was sound asleep. The phone call hadn’t even waken him up. He only slightly pushed over to keep his head rested on Peter’s shoulder. Not willing to wake him up, Peter didn’t dare move away.
“Hey hon!” he whispered as he tried to rub off the sleep from his eyes. He shot a look at Neal who was… sound asleep next to him,.
“Hi hon,” a cheerful El answered him. “Where are you, I tried to get you on Skype, but your laptop isn’t on.”
“Sorry, El. I’m at Neal’s. Did I forget to said we’d call?”
El’s light laugh over the phone sounded like a crystal water spring. “No, I was just checking on you. Why are you whispering?”
“Neal’s asleep.”
“Then why are you there?”
“He invited me over for dinner.”
“Oh look at you, dodging cooking duties. Have you two talked?”
“Yes, we did.”
“And?”
“And he invited me to dinner.”
“Oh, great. So I guess all is good.”
Neal stirred and sat up, shooting Peter an inquiring – and sleepy – look.
“All is good?” Peter asked me softly.
Neal nodded slowly.
“All is good,” Peter reported to El.
“Who is it?” Neal asked, holding back a yawn.
“El.”
“Hi, El,” Neal said out loud.
“Hi, Neal. Sorry I woke you up. I’ll let you boys get back to sleep. I’ll call you back tomorrow, hon.”
“Okay, bye hon, I love you.”
Second Wednesday
Manhattan, 5:30 PM
The Bureau routine felt comfortably familiar. If it wasn’t for his sore ribs, Neal could have believed nothing had happened, and that he hadn’t been missing for a week. The entire team had welcomed him back with cheerful smiles and warm pats in the back. It felt good, being back. It felt also a little intimidating realizing that he had become a true member of the team, one that everyone had fought hard to find back.
They all had a load of work to catch up on, after an active week of looking for Neal, and he barely had the chance to catch up with Peter, as the ASAC hadn’t had a chance to leave his office all day. Until he gestured to Neal from his desk to come join him in his office.
Neal knocked on Peter’s door and let himself in.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yes, sit down. How is your first day back going?”
“Fine. It actually feels nice to get back to work. Especially normal, boring cases.”
Peter chuckled.
“So, I’ve been thinking. I’m going to DC this weekend.”
Neal nodded and plastered his best poker face not to show his chagrin at the perspective to be left alone. He felt a little foolish thinking that way, but it seemed that he was in need for company.
“I cannot not go. I barely got the chance to drive El down there, and she needs my help to finish settling down. She wants to do some shopping for – stuff, you know, whatever. So, I’m going to D.C.”
“And…” Neal asked. “Do you need me to sit Satchmo?”
“No! No, no. Well, Satch is coming with us.”
“Us?”
“I mean, if you want. How would you feel coming down to D.C this weekend?”
Neal’s jaw dropped. Washington. Excitement spiked suddenly. “Could we go visit a museum?” he asked cheerfully.
Peter smirked. “I’m pretty sure we’ll get a tour of the National Gallery. Though I might have to keep you on a tight leash… Literally “
“We’re going to Washington!”
“And if you behave, there might even be other trips. Now go, I’m still half a week behind in my paperwork.”
‘You, Peter Burke, late in your paperwork?”
“And whose fault is that?”
“Now that’s low, Peter, really low.”
“The quicker I finish it, the quicker we’ll be back on the field. So go.”
The End.
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no subject
Date: 2014-09-27 04:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-27 04:32 pm (UTC)Thank you so much for reading. Glad you enjoyed it! :-)
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Date: 2014-09-27 04:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-27 05:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-27 05:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-27 06:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-27 06:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-27 08:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-27 08:11 pm (UTC)Yes, I really like when Peter and Mozzie are driving each other crazy. ;-)
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Date: 2014-09-27 09:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-27 09:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-27 09:57 pm (UTC)Thanks for sharing.
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Date: 2014-09-27 09:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-27 10:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-27 10:24 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading!
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Date: 2014-09-28 12:51 am (UTC)I really liked how you wrote Peter & El!!
"She took his hands into hers and looked at him right in the eyes. “Your ethics can really be a pain, sometimes. And yet, for some reasons, I find your need to be a good man inexplicably attractive.”
The conversation between Neal & Peter was quite moving. They actually talked and listened to one another.
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Date: 2014-09-28 01:04 am (UTC)I just love Peter and El. (and I just love Peter ;-))
I'm glad you enjoyed Peter and Neal's conversation. It took me some time to put it down right, and in good continuity with where they were in S5.
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Date: 2014-09-28 09:25 am (UTC)I love Peter and El conversations and Mozzie and Peter works together ..and that talk between our boys ..finally!!!
Are we ever going to see it in an ep? no I don't think so thanks to write that scene!!
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Date: 2014-09-28 01:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-28 01:51 pm (UTC)I'm sure the episode will be different, but just as enjoyable! ;-)
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Date: 2014-09-28 01:53 pm (UTC)Heee yeah, that conversation was long overdue, but with the Rebecca/Rachel thing, and then the kidnapping, they didn't really had time to sit down, and instead they would throw a thing or two that kept derailing my idea of that conversation that I wanted to write so long ago... ;-)
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Date: 2014-09-28 02:57 pm (UTC)I have to admit, I had to stop reading for some of the final Peter-Neal conversation and take a break before starting again. They both have completely valid and justified points - Neal couldn't have done anything else during the whole Pratt/Hagen mess, and Peter simply couldn't have accepted Neal's actions and how they reflected on his own integrity - but thinking about it still hurts. Though I'd say reading this resolution helped a bit to fix that... *hugs them both just for good measure.
Great fic :)
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Date: 2014-09-28 03:02 pm (UTC)Awww well, I'm glad you started again. There was a lot to include in that conversation, and I really wanted to be fair with them both without judging. Glad I could fix it a bit for you. :-)
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Date: 2014-09-29 01:27 am (UTC)You covered each characters anguish with compassion and balance. Enjoyed the Mozzie/Peter collaboration and especially, the heart to heart between Peter and Neal.
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Date: 2014-09-29 01:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-29 05:28 am (UTC)I'm really glad I finally got the time to read this. The bromance between Neal and Peter is the best part of the show and this fic does a wonderful job of highlighting that. All the best bromances are fraught with angst and misunderstandings along with the love and this had all of those things in spades.
Great read!
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Date: 2014-09-29 01:25 pm (UTC)I agree with you, bromance isn't always all heart-shaped bubbles, but if there's one sure that is sure it's that at the end of the day, they love each other.
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Date: 2014-09-30 09:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-30 09:44 pm (UTC)I thought it made sense to get the Missing Person office involved. White Collar isn't really supposed to investigate kidnappings even though they occasionally do... And I like Rice. Granted she was really wrong the way she used Neal, but she admitted it, which is rather uncommon... Anyway, I liked the idea to involve her and have her working with Peter. I would have loved seeing her again on the show.
And yes, I'm sure Neal would love to go to DC. NY is pretty good museum-wise but DC has to be tempting!
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Date: 2014-10-01 12:50 am (UTC)Thank you for writing and for letting me beta it. As others have said - it's the perfect combination of angst and whump with a beautifully happy ending.
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Date: 2014-10-01 01:09 am (UTC)Thanks again for the beta!
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Date: 2014-10-01 12:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-01 01:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-08 04:43 pm (UTC)Plus Mozzie was great. :D
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Date: 2014-10-08 04:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-23 10:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-23 11:25 pm (UTC)