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elrhiarhodanTitle: The Good And Bad in Everyone (this is mine to remember)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Elizabeth Burke, Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, Peter/Elizabeth,
Spoilers: 3.11 - Checkmate, 3.12 - Upper West Side Story
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~3200
Summary: Peter’s comment about Neal always getting rewarded for doing the wrong thing troubles Elizabeth, and Peter comes to realize what his friendship with Neal means.
An episode tag to that conversation between Peter and El in 3.12, and I’m still trying to fix Peter’s mistake at the end of 2.16.
A/N: Beta’d by my lovely friends,coffeethyme4me and jrosemary, all mistakes are mine and mine alone. Your comments are always adored and appreciated. Title from the lyrics to Annie Lennox’ “A Thousand Beautiful Things.”
__________________
They were sitting on the patio, the cicadas buzzing in the gentle heat of an urban summer night. Elizabeth took a sip from the glass of red wine that Peter handed to her and let herself just relax. Before everything – before the kidnapping, she never had to do that quite so deliberately. She never had to tell herself it was safe to just be.
Before this, she had never understood Peter’s obsessive need for vigilance. Now, she did.
But it was okay. She knew she was safe. She knew the danger had passed. And even if it hadn’t, she knew to the depth of her bones that Peter would move heaven and earth to protect her. That’s just the way he was, and that was fine. He was her rock, and she was his. They protected and supported each other in different ways.
Tonight, it didn’t take too much effort to see that Peter was upset. Well, upset may have been too strong of a word. Irritated would be more accurate. It was probably Neal – wasn’t it always Neal?
So she asked and Peter gave her the rundown.
“I walk into the classroom and the girls were all glassy-eyed – like they saw that kid from those vampire movies.”
She still couldn’t quite see why Peter was so irritated - Neal’s charisma was nothing new and he had certainly depended on it over the years. So, instead of asking if Neal sparkled in the sunlight, she just said, “I bet you Neal would be a good teacher.”
For some reason, that set Peter off even further. “Which will validate him even more.”
Still puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“It’s a pattern. Neal misbehaves, but because he’s Neal, he doesn’t face the consequences and he gets a gold star for it.”
Those words rang in her head – they didn’t feel right or true, but the conversation turned to Keller and the treasure and she was surprisingly okay about it. The first few times she heard his name mentioned, she had gotten a sick little twist in her belly, but that stopped. It wasn’t as if she forgot about the kidnapping, or the man’s malevolent intent. It was that he was in jail, facing a life sentence for his crimes.
“As far as I’m concerned, the right man is behind bars.”
Peter’s startled look surprised her. Was he really thinking about sending Neal back to prison and letting Keller get off for what he did?
Yes, the man was still facing charges for arranging Peter’s kidnapping last year. Yes, he still had to stand trial for the murder of Neal and Mozzie’s friend. And he still had to serve out his original manslaughter sentence. But the thought of Keller getting away with what he did to her was truly upsetting.
And so was the thought of Neal losing his freedom, such as it was.
Peter’s words followed her through the next day. She kept hearing him say, He doesn’t face the consequences and he gets a gold star for it. And try as she might, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her husband was dead wrong.
The case wrapped up, and she had a good laugh when he told her about Diana playing his girlfriend and the imminent arrival of Peter, Jr.’s baby brother. The villain of the piece sounded like something out of a Scooby-Doo cartoon; from the way Peter described him, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he shook his fist and called them all meddling kids. Of course, there was a lot that Peter wasn’t telling her - and she could only guess that Peter had been in some danger. After twelve years of marriage, she learned not to ask about certain things. Not if she wanted to sleep at night.
“So - how did Neal do? Were all the girls still starry-eyed?”
Her husband gave her a noncommittal grunt.
“What’s up?”
“Neal …” Peter shook his head in bemused frustration. “He was … stellar. He listened to me, he stuck to the plan, and he came through when he was supposed to.”
“Just like almost every other case, hon?” She had to laugh.
That earned her a sharp look. “No - not like every other case. Neal’s always doing end runs around procedures. Half the time I don’t know why I don’t strangle him.”
“Really?” She put a whole lot of skepticism into that one word.
“What do you mean, really? He drives me crazy all the time. He never follows orders, he never listens to me.”
She just looked at Peter, one eyebrow raised in disbelief.
“What? Okay, so I’m exaggerating. But Neal – he constantly makes things far more complicated than they should be.”
She had to ask - not because she wanted to change Peter’s mind, but to make the point her husband seemed to be missing. “And if he makes your life so miserable, why haven’t you just put him back in prison? Surely there must be some provision in his contract for that.” When Peter didn’t answer, she coated the next sentence in a deep layer of sarcasm. “God knows, not having to hear you complain about Neal at dinner every night would be a relief.”
Peter didn’t say a word at first. It was interesting to watch the tide of red flood up from his neck, over his face and into his hairline. “What’s your point, El?”
“The other night, you were so aggravated when I said that Neal would make a good teacher - that it would ‘validate’ him. That he does the wrong thing and gets rewarded for it.”
“That wasn’t exactly what I said, hon.”
“No, but it was close. And you’re wrong.”
“What do you mean? You know how Neal is.”
“Neal may do the wrong thing for the right reasons, but I can’t see where he’s ever been particularly rewarded.”
Peter opened his mouth, closed it again. Started to say something and changed his mind.
“You can’t even give me an example of that, can you?”
“He got out of an extra four years of prison.”
“To work for you, to routinely put himself in danger, to have your back.”
“He conned a nice old lady into giving him an apartment with a million dollar view.”
“Weak, Peter - very weak. And June isn’t exactly your stereotypical old lady. I think she’d strongly resent the implication that Neal conned her.”
“His forgery of a Haustenberg is hanging in the Channing.”
“You don’t know that it’s a forgery - and didn’t the expert authenticate it? Besides, this is all old news. From my perspective, whenever Neal has truly stepped out of line, his life has been anything but validation and gold stars.”
“Really?” Now it was Peter’s turn to lay on the skepticism.
“You have a very convenient memory, my husband. Neal stole the music box, he gave it to Fowler, and if you hadn’t caught up with him, he would have died when that plane exploded. As it was - he saw the love of his life get blown up and got to spend the next two months in jail for that.”
Elizabeth didn’t break eye contact with Peter, who glared at her.
“And when he tried to get his revenge, he almost killed an innocent man.”
“Garrett Fowler was no innocent.” Peter muttered.
El smiled at Peter’s knee jerk reaction. “Maybe not.” She waved her hand at that. “But he nearly lost one of his best friends to an attempted assassination.”
Peter leaned back in his chair, anything but relaxed. “Okay - so maybe it hasn’t been all curtain calls and bouquets for Neal.”
“Far from it, hon.”
“He didn’t tell me that he had the art. He hid it from me.” Peter laid that out like a trump card.
“And did you ever give him a reason to tell you?”
From Peter’s utter stillness, El could see that her words hit home.
“I’ve supported and agreed with you every step of the way when you were trying to discover Neal’s role in the theft of the treasure, but I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about it. About how things could have gone differently.” El took a sip of wine and marshaled her thoughts.
“And?” She thought she could hear a small bit of hurt in Peter’s voice.
“Neal’s a lot like Satchmo.”
“Of course he is – he doesn’t piss on the walls since we had him fixed.”
“Very funny, hon. But that’s not what I mean. Neal is, well – a creature of impulse. If you cooked a steak, set it on the edge of the coffee table and walked away, would you be surprised and angry to come back and find that Satchmo stole it?”
“The treasure wasn’t just left there. And Neal didn’t steal it, Mozzie did.”
“You really expected that Neal would just turn around and tell you that he knew where it was? Given the way you treated him?”
“Treated him? What do you mean – I treat him very well. Too well.”
“Oh? You all but make him a part of our family and then you drag him in for a five hour interrogation in the middle of the night. You run hot and cold, Peter. Either he’s your friend and you show him the respect he deserves, or he’s simply a department asset and you treat him as such. You can’t have it both ways and expect Neal to follow along.”
“So you’re saying it’s my fault that Neal lied to me?” The hurt was obvious now.
“In a way – yeah. You want him to trust you; you have to give him a reason.” She sighed. “Neal would give up everything for you – not for the Bureau – but for you. When you turned on him, I think he saw it as a betrayal of the trust he placed in you.”
Peter let out a shuddering sigh and abruptly stood up. “And from there, everything spiraled out of control.”
She got up and stood behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso and resting her cheek against his back. “It’s all about your choices now. I’ll stand by you – whatever you want to do. But you do have to make a choice. You either have to respect Neal for who he is and treat him like a friend, or you consider him just another tool in your belt and cut the tie.”
Peter turned around and held onto her. “He said something today – something I don’t think he meant for me to hear.”
She could feel the emotion radiating through Peter and hugged him tighter.
“He was talking with our suspect’s daughter after we arrested her father. She was upset, confused.”
“Neal does have a way about him.”
“Yeah, I know – but this was more than charm, more than charisma. He was talking from his heart.”
“What did he say?”
“He said …” Peter took a deep breath. “That she should look at what happened as an opportunity to live the life she really wanted. That he had been given that chance and it was the best thing that ever happened to him.”
She looked up at him. “That surprises you?”
Peter nodded slowly. “He told me that he wanted to stay – for you, for me – for the life he has now. That before Keller kidnapped you – he told Moz that he didn’t want to go. But part of me didn’t believe it – part of me still thought Neal was playing me. But he wasn’t.”
El wasn’t quite ready to declare victory – if this was, in fact, a battle. “You can’t expect Neal to be you – to have your values, your moral center. But what he does have is loyalty – and when he gives it, he’ll never look back, he’ll never count the cost. He’s your friend.”
Peter tucked a finger under her chin, tipping her face up. “How did I get so lucky to love such a wise woman?”
She kissed him. That was a question for which no answer was needed.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
“Night, Peter.” Jones let the car door slam as he got out. Peter winced and pulled away from the curb. He really enjoyed the ballgame, but he felt a little guilty. He had to give Neal back those tickets – to make a point without having to hammer it home and Neal seemed to understand. Particularly since he had just finished very delicately carving out the truth for the Justice Department.
And as mildly guilty as he felt, it didn’t stop him from reaching out and snagging the ball that foul-tipped off the end of Derek Jeter’s bat in the bottom of the fifth. Or screaming until his throat was sore when the Yankees scored and won in the bottom of the ninth.
Peter pulled up to a stop at the red light. It was still early enough that there was plenty of traffic in the neighborhood, early enough that he could swing by Neal’s place.
For what?
That question kept repeating itself as he crossed over Columbus Avenue and turned onto Broadway. The route was so familiar that he barely paid attention. He parked, tossed the FBI placard on the dashboard and was inside, knocking on Neal’s door before he realized just where he was, just what he was doing.
He was about to walk away when the door opened.
“Hey, Peter – what brings you here at this hour?” Neal stepped aside and he went into the apartment.
“The game was over – thought I’d stop by.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged.
“The game? Wait – did you go to the Yankees game with Jones?”
“Yeah.” He mumbled, much like a five-year old caught doing something he shouldn’t have.
But Neal just grinned and his smile was bright enough to light up Times Square. “Was it good? Were the seats good?”
“They were the best in the house.” Peter pulled the game ball out of his pocket. “Got myself a souvenir.” He tossed it to Neal, who tossed it right back.
“Cool. Want a beer?”
“Sure, thanks.” He wandered out onto the terrace. A beer probably wasn’t the best idea – but he hadn’t had one at the ballpark and he got the feeling that he’d be here for a while, anyway.
Neal joined him, handing him the bottle. He was surprised to see a beer in his hand, too.
They stood there, looking out over the city. There was certainly a sense of déjà vu. He didn’t know quite how to start.
Neal took matters into his own hands. “So, what’s on your mind?”
“Oh, nothing much.” He took a sip.
“Really?”
Peter had the feeling Neal was laughing at him. But when he turned and looked at Neal, his face illuminated by the fairy lights strung along the wall and the glittering, impossible skyline, there was no humor there, just a sort of sad resignation. He opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come.
“What?” Neal asked.
“Nothing, nothing.” He leaned against the wall.
“Something’s bothering you – you can tell me. Is it Elizabeth? Is she …”
“No – El’s doing fine. Really.”
“I’m … you have no idea how sorry I am for what happened.”
“I know – and I’m sorry too.” There – he said it.
Neal turned and looked at him – puzzlement warring with concern. “Sorry? What do you have to be sorry for?”
He didn’t answer right away.
“Peter?”
Lights winked out, but the Chrysler Building still glowed – a beacon against the darkness. “Neal – when you think of me – how do you – think of us?” The awkward phrasing earned a bit of a laugh. “Seriously, Neal – if you were to tell someone about Neal Caffrey and Peter Burke, how would you describe me?”
Neal blinked, and all humor vanished. The pause was hard and Peter felt a ball of anxiety build in his stomach. After everything, despite everything, this mattered.
“It’s simple. You’re my friend, Peter.”
The panic eased. Peter could feel the absolute truth in Neal’s words. But he still needed to ask the other half of the question. “And do you think I’m yours?”
“What are you asking me?”
He licked his lips. This was so important. “Neal, do you think I’ve been a friend to you?”
If his earlier silence was painful – this was the torture of the damned. Peter was certain that Neal had to know exactly what he was asking.
“I would hope that you are. You killed someone to save my life.”
“I’m an FBI agent. I have a legal obligation – I couldn’t let Adler shoot you.”
“No – Peter, it’s more than that. I know that you think of me as your friend.” Neal stood there, unblinking. “Whatever else may happen between us – that is something I’ve never doubted.”
Peter wanted to rage at Neal. Instead, he chipped at the label on the beer bottle with his thumbnail and spoke in careful, measured tones. “If I was such a good friend, why did I accuse you of stealing the treasure? Why was my first instinct to blame you? Why didn’t I …” The self-doubt roiled through him.
Neal rested a hand on his shoulder – an unaccustomed touch. “I’m a con, Peter – you’ve even said that’s all I’ll ever be. You’re never going to trust me – not for stuff like that. I've accepted that.”
“But maybe if I did – maybe if I really thought of you as a friend first – you would have come to me. Things wouldn’t have escalated, wouldn’t have gotten so out of hand.”
Neal took his hand away; Peter was chilled by the sudden loss.
“Truthfully – I was angry at you. Furious. Your accusation hurt. The coldness afterwards hurt even more. But I don’t know if I ever would have come out and told you. I may have just told Moz to leave with everything – that I didn’t want a share. You would never have stopped looking at me for it; it never would have left your mind. I don’t know if it would have ended any differently. Moz is my friend, too.”
“Still – I am sorry. I could have been a better friend.”
Neal shrugged. “I could have been, too.” He took a sip of beer. “It's okay - we go forward.”
“We can’t go back.”
“No do-overs.”
“Nope.”
“Thank you, Peter.” There was a small, sad smile on Neal’s lips. It just about broke his heart to understand what was behind that sadness. “For everything.”
Peter knew that Neal could have been talking about the careful pastiche of half-truths he had fed to the Justice Department that afternoon, or the upcoming commutation hearing, or the next time he screwed up and Peter buried the problem in paperwork and convenient explanations. It didn’t matter.
Bruised, battered, filled with secrets they couldn’t share, they were now, still, and always friends.
FIN
Author:
elrhiarhodanFandom: White Collar
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Elizabeth Burke, Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, Peter/Elizabeth,
Spoilers: 3.11 - Checkmate, 3.12 - Upper West Side Story
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~3200
Summary: Peter’s comment about Neal always getting rewarded for doing the wrong thing troubles Elizabeth, and Peter comes to realize what his friendship with Neal means.
An episode tag to that conversation between Peter and El in 3.12, and I’m still trying to fix Peter’s mistake at the end of 2.16.
A/N: Beta’d by my lovely friends,
coffeethyme4me and jrosemary, all mistakes are mine and mine alone. Your comments are always adored and appreciated. Title from the lyrics to Annie Lennox’ “A Thousand Beautiful Things.”They were sitting on the patio, the cicadas buzzing in the gentle heat of an urban summer night. Elizabeth took a sip from the glass of red wine that Peter handed to her and let herself just relax. Before everything – before the kidnapping, she never had to do that quite so deliberately. She never had to tell herself it was safe to just be.
Before this, she had never understood Peter’s obsessive need for vigilance. Now, she did.
But it was okay. She knew she was safe. She knew the danger had passed. And even if it hadn’t, she knew to the depth of her bones that Peter would move heaven and earth to protect her. That’s just the way he was, and that was fine. He was her rock, and she was his. They protected and supported each other in different ways.
Tonight, it didn’t take too much effort to see that Peter was upset. Well, upset may have been too strong of a word. Irritated would be more accurate. It was probably Neal – wasn’t it always Neal?
So she asked and Peter gave her the rundown.
“I walk into the classroom and the girls were all glassy-eyed – like they saw that kid from those vampire movies.”
She still couldn’t quite see why Peter was so irritated - Neal’s charisma was nothing new and he had certainly depended on it over the years. So, instead of asking if Neal sparkled in the sunlight, she just said, “I bet you Neal would be a good teacher.”
For some reason, that set Peter off even further. “Which will validate him even more.”
Still puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“It’s a pattern. Neal misbehaves, but because he’s Neal, he doesn’t face the consequences and he gets a gold star for it.”
Those words rang in her head – they didn’t feel right or true, but the conversation turned to Keller and the treasure and she was surprisingly okay about it. The first few times she heard his name mentioned, she had gotten a sick little twist in her belly, but that stopped. It wasn’t as if she forgot about the kidnapping, or the man’s malevolent intent. It was that he was in jail, facing a life sentence for his crimes.
“As far as I’m concerned, the right man is behind bars.”
Peter’s startled look surprised her. Was he really thinking about sending Neal back to prison and letting Keller get off for what he did?
Yes, the man was still facing charges for arranging Peter’s kidnapping last year. Yes, he still had to stand trial for the murder of Neal and Mozzie’s friend. And he still had to serve out his original manslaughter sentence. But the thought of Keller getting away with what he did to her was truly upsetting.
And so was the thought of Neal losing his freedom, such as it was.
Peter’s words followed her through the next day. She kept hearing him say, He doesn’t face the consequences and he gets a gold star for it. And try as she might, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her husband was dead wrong.
The case wrapped up, and she had a good laugh when he told her about Diana playing his girlfriend and the imminent arrival of Peter, Jr.’s baby brother. The villain of the piece sounded like something out of a Scooby-Doo cartoon; from the way Peter described him, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he shook his fist and called them all meddling kids. Of course, there was a lot that Peter wasn’t telling her - and she could only guess that Peter had been in some danger. After twelve years of marriage, she learned not to ask about certain things. Not if she wanted to sleep at night.
“So - how did Neal do? Were all the girls still starry-eyed?”
Her husband gave her a noncommittal grunt.
“What’s up?”
“Neal …” Peter shook his head in bemused frustration. “He was … stellar. He listened to me, he stuck to the plan, and he came through when he was supposed to.”
“Just like almost every other case, hon?” She had to laugh.
That earned her a sharp look. “No - not like every other case. Neal’s always doing end runs around procedures. Half the time I don’t know why I don’t strangle him.”
“Really?” She put a whole lot of skepticism into that one word.
“What do you mean, really? He drives me crazy all the time. He never follows orders, he never listens to me.”
She just looked at Peter, one eyebrow raised in disbelief.
“What? Okay, so I’m exaggerating. But Neal – he constantly makes things far more complicated than they should be.”
She had to ask - not because she wanted to change Peter’s mind, but to make the point her husband seemed to be missing. “And if he makes your life so miserable, why haven’t you just put him back in prison? Surely there must be some provision in his contract for that.” When Peter didn’t answer, she coated the next sentence in a deep layer of sarcasm. “God knows, not having to hear you complain about Neal at dinner every night would be a relief.”
Peter didn’t say a word at first. It was interesting to watch the tide of red flood up from his neck, over his face and into his hairline. “What’s your point, El?”
“The other night, you were so aggravated when I said that Neal would make a good teacher - that it would ‘validate’ him. That he does the wrong thing and gets rewarded for it.”
“That wasn’t exactly what I said, hon.”
“No, but it was close. And you’re wrong.”
“What do you mean? You know how Neal is.”
“Neal may do the wrong thing for the right reasons, but I can’t see where he’s ever been particularly rewarded.”
Peter opened his mouth, closed it again. Started to say something and changed his mind.
“You can’t even give me an example of that, can you?”
“He got out of an extra four years of prison.”
“To work for you, to routinely put himself in danger, to have your back.”
“He conned a nice old lady into giving him an apartment with a million dollar view.”
“Weak, Peter - very weak. And June isn’t exactly your stereotypical old lady. I think she’d strongly resent the implication that Neal conned her.”
“His forgery of a Haustenberg is hanging in the Channing.”
“You don’t know that it’s a forgery - and didn’t the expert authenticate it? Besides, this is all old news. From my perspective, whenever Neal has truly stepped out of line, his life has been anything but validation and gold stars.”
“Really?” Now it was Peter’s turn to lay on the skepticism.
“You have a very convenient memory, my husband. Neal stole the music box, he gave it to Fowler, and if you hadn’t caught up with him, he would have died when that plane exploded. As it was - he saw the love of his life get blown up and got to spend the next two months in jail for that.”
Elizabeth didn’t break eye contact with Peter, who glared at her.
“And when he tried to get his revenge, he almost killed an innocent man.”
“Garrett Fowler was no innocent.” Peter muttered.
El smiled at Peter’s knee jerk reaction. “Maybe not.” She waved her hand at that. “But he nearly lost one of his best friends to an attempted assassination.”
Peter leaned back in his chair, anything but relaxed. “Okay - so maybe it hasn’t been all curtain calls and bouquets for Neal.”
“Far from it, hon.”
“He didn’t tell me that he had the art. He hid it from me.” Peter laid that out like a trump card.
“And did you ever give him a reason to tell you?”
From Peter’s utter stillness, El could see that her words hit home.
“I’ve supported and agreed with you every step of the way when you were trying to discover Neal’s role in the theft of the treasure, but I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about it. About how things could have gone differently.” El took a sip of wine and marshaled her thoughts.
“And?” She thought she could hear a small bit of hurt in Peter’s voice.
“Neal’s a lot like Satchmo.”
“Of course he is – he doesn’t piss on the walls since we had him fixed.”
“Very funny, hon. But that’s not what I mean. Neal is, well – a creature of impulse. If you cooked a steak, set it on the edge of the coffee table and walked away, would you be surprised and angry to come back and find that Satchmo stole it?”
“The treasure wasn’t just left there. And Neal didn’t steal it, Mozzie did.”
“You really expected that Neal would just turn around and tell you that he knew where it was? Given the way you treated him?”
“Treated him? What do you mean – I treat him very well. Too well.”
“Oh? You all but make him a part of our family and then you drag him in for a five hour interrogation in the middle of the night. You run hot and cold, Peter. Either he’s your friend and you show him the respect he deserves, or he’s simply a department asset and you treat him as such. You can’t have it both ways and expect Neal to follow along.”
“So you’re saying it’s my fault that Neal lied to me?” The hurt was obvious now.
“In a way – yeah. You want him to trust you; you have to give him a reason.” She sighed. “Neal would give up everything for you – not for the Bureau – but for you. When you turned on him, I think he saw it as a betrayal of the trust he placed in you.”
Peter let out a shuddering sigh and abruptly stood up. “And from there, everything spiraled out of control.”
She got up and stood behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso and resting her cheek against his back. “It’s all about your choices now. I’ll stand by you – whatever you want to do. But you do have to make a choice. You either have to respect Neal for who he is and treat him like a friend, or you consider him just another tool in your belt and cut the tie.”
Peter turned around and held onto her. “He said something today – something I don’t think he meant for me to hear.”
She could feel the emotion radiating through Peter and hugged him tighter.
“He was talking with our suspect’s daughter after we arrested her father. She was upset, confused.”
“Neal does have a way about him.”
“Yeah, I know – but this was more than charm, more than charisma. He was talking from his heart.”
“What did he say?”
“He said …” Peter took a deep breath. “That she should look at what happened as an opportunity to live the life she really wanted. That he had been given that chance and it was the best thing that ever happened to him.”
She looked up at him. “That surprises you?”
Peter nodded slowly. “He told me that he wanted to stay – for you, for me – for the life he has now. That before Keller kidnapped you – he told Moz that he didn’t want to go. But part of me didn’t believe it – part of me still thought Neal was playing me. But he wasn’t.”
El wasn’t quite ready to declare victory – if this was, in fact, a battle. “You can’t expect Neal to be you – to have your values, your moral center. But what he does have is loyalty – and when he gives it, he’ll never look back, he’ll never count the cost. He’s your friend.”
Peter tucked a finger under her chin, tipping her face up. “How did I get so lucky to love such a wise woman?”
She kissed him. That was a question for which no answer was needed.
“Night, Peter.” Jones let the car door slam as he got out. Peter winced and pulled away from the curb. He really enjoyed the ballgame, but he felt a little guilty. He had to give Neal back those tickets – to make a point without having to hammer it home and Neal seemed to understand. Particularly since he had just finished very delicately carving out the truth for the Justice Department.
And as mildly guilty as he felt, it didn’t stop him from reaching out and snagging the ball that foul-tipped off the end of Derek Jeter’s bat in the bottom of the fifth. Or screaming until his throat was sore when the Yankees scored and won in the bottom of the ninth.
Peter pulled up to a stop at the red light. It was still early enough that there was plenty of traffic in the neighborhood, early enough that he could swing by Neal’s place.
For what?
That question kept repeating itself as he crossed over Columbus Avenue and turned onto Broadway. The route was so familiar that he barely paid attention. He parked, tossed the FBI placard on the dashboard and was inside, knocking on Neal’s door before he realized just where he was, just what he was doing.
He was about to walk away when the door opened.
“Hey, Peter – what brings you here at this hour?” Neal stepped aside and he went into the apartment.
“The game was over – thought I’d stop by.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged.
“The game? Wait – did you go to the Yankees game with Jones?”
“Yeah.” He mumbled, much like a five-year old caught doing something he shouldn’t have.
But Neal just grinned and his smile was bright enough to light up Times Square. “Was it good? Were the seats good?”
“They were the best in the house.” Peter pulled the game ball out of his pocket. “Got myself a souvenir.” He tossed it to Neal, who tossed it right back.
“Cool. Want a beer?”
“Sure, thanks.” He wandered out onto the terrace. A beer probably wasn’t the best idea – but he hadn’t had one at the ballpark and he got the feeling that he’d be here for a while, anyway.
Neal joined him, handing him the bottle. He was surprised to see a beer in his hand, too.
They stood there, looking out over the city. There was certainly a sense of déjà vu. He didn’t know quite how to start.
Neal took matters into his own hands. “So, what’s on your mind?”
“Oh, nothing much.” He took a sip.
“Really?”
Peter had the feeling Neal was laughing at him. But when he turned and looked at Neal, his face illuminated by the fairy lights strung along the wall and the glittering, impossible skyline, there was no humor there, just a sort of sad resignation. He opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come.
“What?” Neal asked.
“Nothing, nothing.” He leaned against the wall.
“Something’s bothering you – you can tell me. Is it Elizabeth? Is she …”
“No – El’s doing fine. Really.”
“I’m … you have no idea how sorry I am for what happened.”
“I know – and I’m sorry too.” There – he said it.
Neal turned and looked at him – puzzlement warring with concern. “Sorry? What do you have to be sorry for?”
He didn’t answer right away.
“Peter?”
Lights winked out, but the Chrysler Building still glowed – a beacon against the darkness. “Neal – when you think of me – how do you – think of us?” The awkward phrasing earned a bit of a laugh. “Seriously, Neal – if you were to tell someone about Neal Caffrey and Peter Burke, how would you describe me?”
Neal blinked, and all humor vanished. The pause was hard and Peter felt a ball of anxiety build in his stomach. After everything, despite everything, this mattered.
“It’s simple. You’re my friend, Peter.”
The panic eased. Peter could feel the absolute truth in Neal’s words. But he still needed to ask the other half of the question. “And do you think I’m yours?”
“What are you asking me?”
He licked his lips. This was so important. “Neal, do you think I’ve been a friend to you?”
If his earlier silence was painful – this was the torture of the damned. Peter was certain that Neal had to know exactly what he was asking.
“I would hope that you are. You killed someone to save my life.”
“I’m an FBI agent. I have a legal obligation – I couldn’t let Adler shoot you.”
“No – Peter, it’s more than that. I know that you think of me as your friend.” Neal stood there, unblinking. “Whatever else may happen between us – that is something I’ve never doubted.”
Peter wanted to rage at Neal. Instead, he chipped at the label on the beer bottle with his thumbnail and spoke in careful, measured tones. “If I was such a good friend, why did I accuse you of stealing the treasure? Why was my first instinct to blame you? Why didn’t I …” The self-doubt roiled through him.
Neal rested a hand on his shoulder – an unaccustomed touch. “I’m a con, Peter – you’ve even said that’s all I’ll ever be. You’re never going to trust me – not for stuff like that. I've accepted that.”
“But maybe if I did – maybe if I really thought of you as a friend first – you would have come to me. Things wouldn’t have escalated, wouldn’t have gotten so out of hand.”
Neal took his hand away; Peter was chilled by the sudden loss.
“Truthfully – I was angry at you. Furious. Your accusation hurt. The coldness afterwards hurt even more. But I don’t know if I ever would have come out and told you. I may have just told Moz to leave with everything – that I didn’t want a share. You would never have stopped looking at me for it; it never would have left your mind. I don’t know if it would have ended any differently. Moz is my friend, too.”
“Still – I am sorry. I could have been a better friend.”
Neal shrugged. “I could have been, too.” He took a sip of beer. “It's okay - we go forward.”
“We can’t go back.”
“No do-overs.”
“Nope.”
“Thank you, Peter.” There was a small, sad smile on Neal’s lips. It just about broke his heart to understand what was behind that sadness. “For everything.”
Peter knew that Neal could have been talking about the careful pastiche of half-truths he had fed to the Justice Department that afternoon, or the upcoming commutation hearing, or the next time he screwed up and Peter buried the problem in paperwork and convenient explanations. It didn’t matter.
Bruised, battered, filled with secrets they couldn’t share, they were now, still, and always friends.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 01:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 02:03 am (UTC)Snuggles your feedback - you got it exactly as I intended. Any conversation between P&N re their friendship is always going to (at least for me) skew to pre-slash. At the end of the ep (Upper West Side Story), I was screaming at them to just KISS already.
no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 04:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 02:18 pm (UTC)Without their friendship - the show loses so much. Which is why the first half of S3 was so difficult (and I was always trying to fix it).
no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 12:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 02:20 pm (UTC)I kept waiting for El to call Peter on his bullshit. Their marriage is definitely strong enough to support the honesty needed.
And you're right - the conversation between PEter and Neal had so much danger in it. But I think they'll be all right now (I hope).
no subject
Date: 2012-04-22 08:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-08 09:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 02:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 03:08 am (UTC)El is, despite her occasional descent into silliness, the emotional center of the WC universe. She is the only one who could make Peter see where he went wrong.
no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 03:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 03:07 am (UTC)I needed to write this, because you know that those two will never have the really important discussions.
no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 03:14 am (UTC)Thank you for writing this. It's an excellent story. :D
no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 03:18 am (UTC)I have been wondering if WC has sort of jumped the shark for me with what they did to Peter and Neal at the end of last season and through the first part of this season.
I've written maybe 6 different versions of this conversation - hoping to make things right. I think, after this season ends, I'm going to wipe most of it from my mind. I'll have to .
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 03:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 03:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 03:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 03:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 03:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 03:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 03:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 03:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 04:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 01:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 04:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 01:50 pm (UTC)Yes, we've come to the sad realization that the show will never give us those quiet moments of friendship anymore.
no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 09:31 am (UTC)And, ficcing wise, welcome back!
no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 01:49 pm (UTC)Both Peter and Neal are to blame for that bad situation - with a healthy dose of Moz, of course. But Moz was being Moz - in his own words, a Machiavellian puppet master. But Peter sometimes needs a slap up the side of the head (metaphorically speaking) to get him to realize what the problem is. And El is (natch) the perfect person to give it to him.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 12:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 01:44 pm (UTC)As much as I adored Upper West Side Story - that one moment struck a sour note. There were many things that Peter could have said - he was clearly still angry about the treasure (and so he should be), but to say that Neal always gets rewarded for his bad behavior is just wrong. Considering that Peter is usually the one who covers for him (a/k/a The Official Bureau Response).
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 01:33 pm (UTC)Neal rested a hand on his shoulder – an unaccustomed touch.
Paving the way for the arm-clasp of awesomeness in 3.14!
no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 01:46 pm (UTC)I am going to keep at this until the writers get off their collective arses and fix it themselves.
And yes - that was the arm-clasp of awesomeness! Since it's usually Peter that's initiating the touchinks and the pullinks and then hands at the smalls of the backs.
no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 03:23 pm (UTC)Nice work.
no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 03:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 03:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 03:38 pm (UTC)I have always thought that she's the emotional adult in that relationship - the balance between black and white Peter and all the shades of gray Neal.
no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 04:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 04:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 05:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-09 05:40 pm (UTC)And you've summed it up exactly - Neal's principles are loyalty based. And once his given his loyalty, it will take a lot to break it.
Another reason why Neal is like Satchmo!
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-02-10 01:30 am (UTC)Thank you thank you thank you thank you! This is exactly what I've been thinking -- that Peter doesn't see, but needs to see, that for Neal, it wasn't about the treasure. It was about friendship and loyalty, and the terrible dilemma that whichever choice he made, he'd have to betray a friend. Of course El would make Peter see that, and Peter would apologize to Neal for accusing him with no evidence. Your story is just the way it should be.
no subject
Date: 2012-02-10 01:37 am (UTC)It's always been clear to me that for Neal, it was never about the stuff. Not really. It was about being a friend.
Peter and Moz did a good job of tearing him apart, didn't they?
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-02-17 12:09 pm (UTC)Considering I'm at the brink of what I can cope with, plot wise, it's nice to see someone capture what WC used to be about.
no subject
Date: 2012-02-17 02:03 pm (UTC)I too am hoping that they'll get back to the best part of WC. Been watching S1 and feeling the love between them.
no subject
Date: 2012-04-09 05:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-07 04:36 pm (UTC)I don't think we're ever going to get an apology in canon, sadly.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-05-06 11:56 pm (UTC)-weeps-
Wonderful. I'm glad you mentioned Peter's accusation, because even when that episodes aired, the way Peter automatically turned to Neal made me hurt for Neal and made me look at what I thought their relationship was in a totally different light.
And El is a smart woman Peter. Count yourself lucky.
no subject
Date: 2012-05-07 04:38 pm (UTC)Sadly, I don't think we're ever going to get an apology in canon. I can accept that Peter was very traumatized at the moment, but after everything - an apology is still in order.
Yes - Peter is a very lucky man.