![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elrhiarhodanTitle: Stepping Out Into Oblivion
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: R
Characters: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey
Pairings:
Spoilers: All of Season 3, to date
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Death of major canon characters, suicide.
Word Count: ~1200
Summary: Neal is in prison for the rest of his life. Peter comes and pays one final visit.
A/N: I have my suspicions about the cliffhanger for the end of this part of Season 3, that it’s neither pretty, nor happy. In fact, it is downright depressing. A fill for my Hurt Comfort Bingo – Suicide Attempt. Beta’d by the incomparablerabidchild67 . All mistakes are mine and mine alone.
__________________
Neal looked out the small window. The wall was thick and he could barely see the sky. He got a sense of light, and nothing more. Maybe it was better not to look at all.
His cell was five wide, eight long and eight feet high, barely larger than a grave. And he was going to be here for the rest of his life.
He could have blamed Mozzie for this. After all, it was his friend who stole the Nazi treasure in the first place. It was Mozzie who substituted his canvasses for the real paintings. It was Moz who pushed and poked and prodded to sell the treasure and leave. Moz was the one who sold the Degas to buy a hit on Matthew Keller. Moz was the one who took it all and ran when Neal said he wanted to stay.
It wasn’t all Mozzie’s fault. Moz was just playing the end-game that Neal had started all of those years ago.
But Neal thought he had just a small right to be bitter. Moz was relaxing on a private island somewhere – in the Caribbean, or maybe the Indian Ocean. Sipping Chateau Petrus and Screaming Eagle and Stags Leap and not having a care in the world. While he was here, in solitary confinement, for the rest of his natural life. No possibility of parole. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.
He wasn’t in solitary for discipline. He was here because living in Gen Pop would earn him a shiv between his ribs after a beat-down or gang rape. Or maybe both. After all, Neal Caffrey was a famous snitch who once had his very own desk at the FBI.
A guard rapped on the bars of his cell. “You have a visitor.” Neal knew the rules all too well. He turned and put his palms flat against the wall, legs spread as wide as his shoulders before the guards opened his cell door. They shackled him, hands at his waist and his ankles no more than two feet apart.
The trip from his cell to the visitors’ room exhausted him. It was the farthest he’d walked in nearly six months. His hips hurt, his thighs and calves ached. He just wanted to sit down and not move for a while. But they didn’t take him to the general visitors’ room – the one with the two-inch Lexan dividers. Instead, he was brought to the room reserved for attorneys and law enforcement interviews.
Peter was waiting for him at the far end. His badge was prominently displayed on his belt. They hadn’t taken that from him after all.
Neal gave him a small smile. “Hey there.”
Peter didn’t respond, he just stood and stared at him. Neal met his eyes for just a moment – there was so much bitterness and anger there that he had to look away.
The silence deepened, unnerving Neal. He wanted to crack wise, to break the tension, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. A minute passed, then two. The clock on the wall, behind a rusty cage, ticked away.
Finally, Peter spoke.
“Moz is dead. His body washed up onto one of the Maldives. It looks like he got caught in a rip current. Or maybe he just walked into the sea and forgot to swim.”
Ahh – so he did go to the Indian Ocean. “Thank you for letting me know.” Neal wouldn’t grieve for Moz. Not now.
“We’ve recovered most of the treasure, too.”
“That’s good.” Neal didn’t allow himself to consider what that would mean for him. But Peter told him anyway.
“That doesn’t change anything. You’re here for life, where you deserve to be. You’re an accessory after the fact; you interfered with multiple Federal investigations. You used your position within the Bureau to avoid discovery. You impersonated an Interpol agent. You broke into my home, you looked me in the eye and lied about everything. You may not have escaped with the treasure, but your crimes are legion.”
Neal swallowed. He deserved this. “Peter, I’m sorry.”
“You know what? I don’t care. You’re sorry now – you’re always sorry when things don’t go as you’ve planned.”
He was right.
“You’re okay?” He had to ask.
“No, I’m not. They are letting me keep this…” Peter touched the badge at his waist “… for another two months, so I can get my full pension. But I’ve been stripped of all active responsibilities. My career is over. Thanks to you.”
“Peter, I’m sorry.”
“You may want to tender your so-sincere apologies to Diana, too. She’s been terminated.”
Neal shook his head. “You’re the one who brought her into this. You can’t lay that on me.”
“You’re wrong. I can. If you hadn’t …” Peter stopped himself. “You know what – it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over. It’s done.”
Neal tried to bury his face in his hand, but the shackles wouldn’t let him. At least he didn’t cry.
“I won’t be back. Ever.”
Neal closed his eyes and swallowed. “I understand.”
He sat there, docile, waiting for Peter to leave. He didn’t.
“It was all a con, wasn’t it?” The rage in Peter’s voice was devastating.
“What?” The question was reflexive; Neal knew exactly what Peter meant.
“Everything – from the beginning.”
“No, Peter. Of course it wasn’t.”
“I’m not talking about Kate and the music box. I’m talking about us.”
“I know. It wasn’t, Peter.” Maybe if he kept saying Peter’s name, this would all feel more real.
“You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t believe you.” A harsh bark of laughter accompanied that statement. “Forgive – perfect. Just perfect.”
Neal knew there was nothing he could say that would make Peter believe him. He had betrayed him, in word and thought and deed. “I understand. What I did … friends don’t do that to each other.”
“No, Caffrey, they don’t.”
The “Caffrey” hurt. Peter, who always used his first name like a talisman, hadn’t said it once.
Neal looked up at Peter, to memorize the face of the man who had put everything on the line for him, who tried to make him something more than he was. His friend. His only true friend.
“Goodbye, Peter.”
Peter didn’t look at him as he walked out.
The guards escorted Neal back to his cell. They removed the shackles and the door closed behind him. In the interval between then and now, the sun moved and the small block of light was mostly gone.
Neal sat down, reached for a pad and pen and started writing. The words flowed like they should have a year ago. Not a confession, but an apology. An explanation. A plea for forgiveness.
He set those pages aside, and began making a list. Items and locations, accounts, amounts. Origins and intentions. Everything was in code, but Peter would understand it.
By the time he’d finished, the lights on the cellblock tier were shutting down. Perfect.
In the dimness, Neal knotted his bed sheet and tossed it over the pipe running along the ceiling. He put the chair under the makeshift rope and stepped up. The noose was secure around his neck, tight under his chin, already choking him. Good.
Neal whispered a prayer for understanding, but no one heard the words: I wanted to stay. He kicked the back of the chair away and stepped out into oblivion.
FIN
Peter's story continues in End of My Heart's Endeavor
Author:
elrhiarhodanFandom: White Collar
Rating: R
Characters: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey
Pairings:
Spoilers: All of Season 3, to date
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Death of major canon characters, suicide.
Word Count: ~1200
Summary: Neal is in prison for the rest of his life. Peter comes and pays one final visit.
A/N: I have my suspicions about the cliffhanger for the end of this part of Season 3, that it’s neither pretty, nor happy. In fact, it is downright depressing. A fill for my Hurt Comfort Bingo – Suicide Attempt. Beta’d by the incomparable
rabidchild67 . All mistakes are mine and mine alone.Neal looked out the small window. The wall was thick and he could barely see the sky. He got a sense of light, and nothing more. Maybe it was better not to look at all.
His cell was five wide, eight long and eight feet high, barely larger than a grave. And he was going to be here for the rest of his life.
He could have blamed Mozzie for this. After all, it was his friend who stole the Nazi treasure in the first place. It was Mozzie who substituted his canvasses for the real paintings. It was Moz who pushed and poked and prodded to sell the treasure and leave. Moz was the one who sold the Degas to buy a hit on Matthew Keller. Moz was the one who took it all and ran when Neal said he wanted to stay.
It wasn’t all Mozzie’s fault. Moz was just playing the end-game that Neal had started all of those years ago.
But Neal thought he had just a small right to be bitter. Moz was relaxing on a private island somewhere – in the Caribbean, or maybe the Indian Ocean. Sipping Chateau Petrus and Screaming Eagle and Stags Leap and not having a care in the world. While he was here, in solitary confinement, for the rest of his natural life. No possibility of parole. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.
He wasn’t in solitary for discipline. He was here because living in Gen Pop would earn him a shiv between his ribs after a beat-down or gang rape. Or maybe both. After all, Neal Caffrey was a famous snitch who once had his very own desk at the FBI.
A guard rapped on the bars of his cell. “You have a visitor.” Neal knew the rules all too well. He turned and put his palms flat against the wall, legs spread as wide as his shoulders before the guards opened his cell door. They shackled him, hands at his waist and his ankles no more than two feet apart.
The trip from his cell to the visitors’ room exhausted him. It was the farthest he’d walked in nearly six months. His hips hurt, his thighs and calves ached. He just wanted to sit down and not move for a while. But they didn’t take him to the general visitors’ room – the one with the two-inch Lexan dividers. Instead, he was brought to the room reserved for attorneys and law enforcement interviews.
Peter was waiting for him at the far end. His badge was prominently displayed on his belt. They hadn’t taken that from him after all.
Neal gave him a small smile. “Hey there.”
Peter didn’t respond, he just stood and stared at him. Neal met his eyes for just a moment – there was so much bitterness and anger there that he had to look away.
The silence deepened, unnerving Neal. He wanted to crack wise, to break the tension, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. A minute passed, then two. The clock on the wall, behind a rusty cage, ticked away.
Finally, Peter spoke.
“Moz is dead. His body washed up onto one of the Maldives. It looks like he got caught in a rip current. Or maybe he just walked into the sea and forgot to swim.”
Ahh – so he did go to the Indian Ocean. “Thank you for letting me know.” Neal wouldn’t grieve for Moz. Not now.
“We’ve recovered most of the treasure, too.”
“That’s good.” Neal didn’t allow himself to consider what that would mean for him. But Peter told him anyway.
“That doesn’t change anything. You’re here for life, where you deserve to be. You’re an accessory after the fact; you interfered with multiple Federal investigations. You used your position within the Bureau to avoid discovery. You impersonated an Interpol agent. You broke into my home, you looked me in the eye and lied about everything. You may not have escaped with the treasure, but your crimes are legion.”
Neal swallowed. He deserved this. “Peter, I’m sorry.”
“You know what? I don’t care. You’re sorry now – you’re always sorry when things don’t go as you’ve planned.”
He was right.
“You’re okay?” He had to ask.
“No, I’m not. They are letting me keep this…” Peter touched the badge at his waist “… for another two months, so I can get my full pension. But I’ve been stripped of all active responsibilities. My career is over. Thanks to you.”
“Peter, I’m sorry.”
“You may want to tender your so-sincere apologies to Diana, too. She’s been terminated.”
Neal shook his head. “You’re the one who brought her into this. You can’t lay that on me.”
“You’re wrong. I can. If you hadn’t …” Peter stopped himself. “You know what – it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over. It’s done.”
Neal tried to bury his face in his hand, but the shackles wouldn’t let him. At least he didn’t cry.
“I won’t be back. Ever.”
Neal closed his eyes and swallowed. “I understand.”
He sat there, docile, waiting for Peter to leave. He didn’t.
“It was all a con, wasn’t it?” The rage in Peter’s voice was devastating.
“What?” The question was reflexive; Neal knew exactly what Peter meant.
“Everything – from the beginning.”
“No, Peter. Of course it wasn’t.”
“I’m not talking about Kate and the music box. I’m talking about us.”
“I know. It wasn’t, Peter.” Maybe if he kept saying Peter’s name, this would all feel more real.
“You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t believe you.” A harsh bark of laughter accompanied that statement. “Forgive – perfect. Just perfect.”
Neal knew there was nothing he could say that would make Peter believe him. He had betrayed him, in word and thought and deed. “I understand. What I did … friends don’t do that to each other.”
“No, Caffrey, they don’t.”
The “Caffrey” hurt. Peter, who always used his first name like a talisman, hadn’t said it once.
Neal looked up at Peter, to memorize the face of the man who had put everything on the line for him, who tried to make him something more than he was. His friend. His only true friend.
“Goodbye, Peter.”
Peter didn’t look at him as he walked out.
The guards escorted Neal back to his cell. They removed the shackles and the door closed behind him. In the interval between then and now, the sun moved and the small block of light was mostly gone.
Neal sat down, reached for a pad and pen and started writing. The words flowed like they should have a year ago. Not a confession, but an apology. An explanation. A plea for forgiveness.
He set those pages aside, and began making a list. Items and locations, accounts, amounts. Origins and intentions. Everything was in code, but Peter would understand it.
By the time he’d finished, the lights on the cellblock tier were shutting down. Perfect.
In the dimness, Neal knotted his bed sheet and tossed it over the pipe running along the ceiling. He put the chair under the makeshift rope and stepped up. The noose was secure around his neck, tight under his chin, already choking him. Good.
Neal whispered a prayer for understanding, but no one heard the words: I wanted to stay. He kicked the back of the chair away and stepped out into oblivion.
Peter's story continues in End of My Heart's Endeavor
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-08-04 08:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-04 08:09 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-08-04 08:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-04 11:08 pm (UTC)Sometimes, deathfics really speak to needs within us - the need for catharsis, for transference. To place the pain elsewhere.
Thank you for your lovely feedback.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-04 08:46 pm (UTC)That said, this was awesome and very well done (we both have Mozzie drowning...hmmmm....a theme emerges, LOL).
no subject
Date: 2011-08-04 11:10 pm (UTC)We still get glimmers of the bromance - that scene in the office when Neal tells Peter not to lie to Elizabeth. I too miss the joy that we'd get between them. It's missing that shine.
And dare I confess - I was probably inspired by your fic. Sometimes these things get stuck in my head. I do hope you don't mind.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-08-04 09:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-04 11:13 pm (UTC)This was one of those stories that nibbled at my brain all night long. It let me sleep, just barely.
I had the title for it and the ending before I wrote a single word.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-04 09:16 pm (UTC)Neal trapped forever in solitary - yes I can see why he'd end it that's untenable for anyone!
no subject
Date: 2011-08-04 11:15 pm (UTC)I know you are a big advocate of Criminal Neal and Criminal Moz - but it's breaking my heart.
Thank you so much for the lovely feedback - I don't think Neal could take solitary any more than I could (and you know I'm not a people person).
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-08-04 10:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-04 11:16 pm (UTC)This one grabbed me and wouldn't let go until it was written.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-05 12:16 am (UTC)I wish a lot of things about this show and mostly right now I wish that I could smack some sense into JE, but he's the big important show runner and I'm the fan and a woman to boot so I guess my opinion probably doesn't amount to a hill of beans.
I think I'm mad, mad at JE for thinking this was a good idea, mad at all the people who write that they find this whole storyline exciting and entertaining and all the other bull. I know that might tick some people off. I'm not mad at you personally, but I'm mad that because people think angst is more "exciting" and now all this angst is screwing up one of my favorite buddy TV shows. If I want angst, I'll watch L&O:SVU or Criminal Minds. I watch (and started watching) White Collar because it was fun, escapiest TV. Heck, I'm back to wishing Kate was alive and I couldn't stand that character.
I don't want to watch a TV show where my stomach is in knots wondering what horrible things happen next. And that is where I'm getting to with White Collar. JE had seriously better fix things or this may very well be my last season with them. My love for MB and TDK is awesome, but I have enough angst and depression in my real life, I certainly don't need it in my TV watching life.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-05 12:37 am (UTC)Wow. I never thought Neal would go to jail as the cliffhanger, but I guess that makes sense. Not much of a cliffhanger, however. (Not that Mozzie being shot was either; we knew he'd live.)
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-08-05 12:50 am (UTC)And so sad.
And so IC.
Going to stagger off to bed with my sniffles, now. *sniffles*
no subject
Date: 2011-08-05 08:05 am (UTC)Too little, too late, or would there be a measure of forgiveness, of fresh grief?
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-08-05 01:16 am (UTC)And that is exactly how death fic should work. This is brilliant. Kudos.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-05 02:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-05 01:39 am (UTC)Love and cherries,
Wingstar
no subject
Date: 2011-08-05 02:24 pm (UTC)Thank you for your feedback - I'm working on the Peter side of this story, now.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-08-05 01:40 am (UTC)Good job.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-05 02:26 pm (UTC)Thank you so much.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-05 04:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-05 02:15 pm (UTC)It will hurt, very much. So very, very much.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-08-05 07:29 am (UTC)So in character.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-05 02:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-05 10:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-05 02:27 pm (UTC)Thank you.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-05 10:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-05 02:28 pm (UTC)And thanks you.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-05 03:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-05 04:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-08-05 08:17 pm (UTC)In fact, I let the little devil that sits on my shoulder win (mostly my little Angel was egging her on, since she hates what's going on too) and I tweeted Jeff Eastin. As I told Elr in a private note, there was this small part of me that was going to see just how far I could push JE before he blocked me! (BTW: Just checked and I'm still allowed to follow him...guess I didn't poke too hard! LOL)
If you are on twitter you can search for it by searching for my twitter name Queen Aeron (I know...surprise!). It took place last night (8/4/11). It starts with me asking him "ust tell me this, is every ep from now on going to leave me with a sick stomach or will we ever get back to the fun that was S2"
While there are no specific spoilers, the answer (and his comment to me this morning) were not promising. Basically told me to stop watching and start over with Season 4. *sigh*
I did poke back with several very pointed comments about my opinions of angst for angst sake, which unless Neal learns some *SERIOUS* lessons from this, we are back looking at angst for angst sake and I'll flat out call him a lazy writer! I took the opportunity to tell him that I loved White Collar and thought seasons 1 & 2 were just the right balance but this season just is a mess.
While I'd like to think that my opinion matters, I know the reality of the situation. I'm just some 45 year old secretary from bum-fuc% Ohio and he probably really doesn't give a flying fuc% what I think.
Some days I swear I'm going to turn off the TV and never watch it again. I really wish I was one of those people who didn't give a crap either way about a TV show ever because it feels so silly to get upset over some stupid characters written by a man who is a poopy-pants! Seriously, if it wasn't for the awesomeness that is Matt Bomer and Tim DeKay (and Tiffani and Marsha and Sharif...even Willie though I hate Mozzie right now) I would and could just walk away. I will probably stick with it until the bitter end. I really hope I'm wrong. There was another tweeter who did honestly try to talk me into believing the best could come out of this clusterfuc% but the more I think about it, the more I figure Jeff Eastin will take the easy way out, which he's done at each and every point in the last 2 seasons, no serious repercussions when Neal thought Peter was the man who had Kate, REALLY no repercussions after Neal almost killed Fowler, which I agree with almost everyone who's stated that there should have been something more happen to Neal than Peter just seeming to forgive him. And now, after all that Neal has done to Peter this season, seriously you think you can solve this mess in 7 eps?
I'm off to go beat my head against the wall. Maybe I'll feel better! LOL
no subject
Date: 2011-08-06 04:45 pm (UTC)so ready for the peter half.
also, you are magical.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-06 07:42 pm (UTC)Thank you so much.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-08-07 04:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-07 09:51 pm (UTC){{{HUGS YOU}}}
no subject
Date: 2011-08-07 11:05 pm (UTC)You are an incredible writer.
I haven't watched any of season three, and may not ever do so, but from what I know of it this makes a lot of sense.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-07 11:14 pm (UTC)Season three is difficult - but there are episodes of pure joy.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-08 09:00 am (UTC)The emotional upheaval is mine to bear.
I think I read this because I'm oh so scared about how badly this season might end and if I read the worst case scenario... It might be less bad? If that makes any sense at all?
Anyhow, bawling here. Superbly written piece of ficcery, extremely well done. Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2011-08-09 12:28 pm (UTC)I am so terribly worried about what's going to happen tonight...I almost don't want to watch.
Thank you so much for reading and leaving feedback.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-30 10:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-17 03:18 pm (UTC)My apologies for taking so long to reply.
no subject
Date: 2011-10-17 02:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-17 03:17 pm (UTC)I had been feeling very anxious about the course of the show, and trying to find a way to express those feelings. Right around the time I wrote this, I read an article about the long term effects of solitary confinement and this is what happened.
no subject
Date: 2011-10-19 06:22 am (UTC)This is really, really good. It's the ending we all doesn't want to see, but it's perfectly written, realistic and scary.
Wow.
Good work.
no subject
Date: 2011-10-19 05:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-05-23 05:37 pm (UTC)