White Collar Fic - The Truth Out of a Lie
Jan. 31st, 2013 02:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elrhiarhodanTitle: The Truth Out of a Lie
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Peter Burke, Elizabeth Burke, Peter/Elizabeth, implied Peter/Neal, Peter/Elizabeth/Neal
Spoilers: S4.12 – Brass Tacks
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~1400
Beta Credit: None
Summary: Episode tag/Fix-it fic for Elizabeth’s actions in Brass Tacks, the consequences of asking Neal to lie to Peter.
A/N: A slightly belated birthday fic for my dearest friend,dmk0064, may every day of your life be as good as your birthday was.
Title from Lavender Diamond’s “I’ll Never Lie Again.”
__________________
There were many constants in Peter’s universe: Someone always seemed to take his parking spot thirty seconds before he got home. He knows he’ll forget to pick up the dry cleaning at least once a month. The coffee at the office is still horrible, despite his attempts to keep the pot clean.
Neal will never lie to his face. Ever.
That day, two years ago, when Neal told him that he may have, on occasion, let him draw certain conclusions that weren't correct, but he never an actual lied to him, Peter was skeptical. Neal had let the matter drop, but Peter kept turning Neal’s statement over and over and came to the realization that yes, Neal might misdirect, might deflect and demur in a million different and exquisitely subtle ways, but he never lied to his face. Not even during their darkest days, when Peter was (rightfully) convinced that Neal was up to his neck in the theft of the treasure, did Neal directly lie to him.
Of course, he’d been very careful not to ask Neal any questions that might require him to lie.
But this lie was inexplicable. Neal was on board with letting Jones work with Mozzie, and had even gone so far as to back him up when he ordered Moz to give Jones custody of the key. Jones was too good of an agent to let some expected slight-of-hand get past him, but even if he hadn’t come to the hospital and told him what happened, Peter still would have known that Neal was lying. It was all over his face – including fleeting traces of shame and self-disgust.
Neal wasn’t proud of what he did. Not in the least.
And Peter couldn’t figure out why – after so many years – after so much between them, the good and the bad, that he’d pick this to lie about.
It was a few days after that bastard, Pratt, engineered Reese’s untimely retirement and Peter couldn’t sleep. His body still hurt, his arm ached, his head was pounding. He had a prescription for painkillers, but he hated what they did to his brain. It was better not to take them, not when he needed to think.
Rather than disturb El by tossing and turning, Peter went downstairs and made a cup of tea. He took a sip and grimaced – the only time he ever drank the stuff was when he was sick or couldn’t sleep. He disengaged the alarm and went out onto the patio, letting the sounds of a city at night soothe him.
They didn’t. His mind kept going around in circles, refusing to relax.
Getting to Pratt was going to be difficult and dangerous – more than he had even anticipated. He should have seen this. Thirty years ago, the man had enough juice to get a cop to confess to a murder he didn’t commit. Three days ago, he arranged to have the brakes of his car – an official government vehicle – tampered with. He forced one of the Bureau’s finest agents to retire.
The man’s reach was limitless, his armor nearly perfect. Going after Pratt was likely going to end his career. Hell, with Hughes out of the way and a new AD coming in – someone who was going to give his loyalty to the senator – Neal’s deal and his freedom might be in jeopardy, too.
That thought brought him back to Neal and that damn lie. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. It was all so stupid. Why this? Why now?
Peter shifted in the chair, his body ached and the patio furniture was not the most comfortable even for an uninjured body. But he didn’t want to go back to bed, not like this.
So he sat there, sipped the now-cold tea and tried to reconcile Neal’s actions with the man himself. Despite the hours, he didn’t get far. The birds started to chirp, welcoming the new day with a joy Peter couldn’t share.
“Have you been sitting out here all night?” Elizabeth interrupted his misery. Despite the ratty robe and bed head, she was still a welcome sight.
“Yeah – couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to wake you.” That earned him no gratitude.
“So it was better to sit out here all night, hon?”
“I had things to think about.”
El sighed. “You’re still upset about Reese?”
“Yeah – but it’s not just that. I’m still furious at Neal for lying to me. I just don’t understand it. After everything, all the things we’ve been through, everything we are to each other – he lies to my face about this?”
Even in the dim light of the summer dawn, Peter could see something cross El’s face. It looked suspiciously like guilt. “Hon?”
She turned away. “How about a cup of coffee and some breakfast? I’m in the mood for waffles.”
He made a grab for her, snagging her robe. “El, what’s going on?”
“Nothing – since we’re up early, I just thought …”
Peter winced, his strained muscles protested as he pulled Elizabeth back and onto his lap. “What do you know?”
“What’s with the interrogation?” She grinned at him, but after nearly thirteen years of marriage, Peter knew all of his wife’s smiles (like he knew all of Neal’s). This one was patently unconvincing.
“You know something, El. Don’t lie to me.”
“About what?”
“About Neal and why he lied.” El froze in his arms; it was like he was holding a mannequin, not a living woman. “Hon?”
She buried her face in his shoulder – the uninjured one. “It’s my fault.”
He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. They were filled with worry and regret. “Why is it your fault?”
“I told him to lie – you were unconscious and I was terrified. I asked him to get you out of the hunt for Ellen’s evidence box. I was afraid you’d get killed – that the next time someone knocked on the door; it would be to tell me you were dead. Neal didn’t want to – he kept saying that he doesn’t lie to you – but I insisted.” Her words came out in a rush.
Peter didn’t know what to think. “You don’t need to protect me, El.”
She pulled herself out of his arms and stood up, a determined goddess in a ratty bathrobe. “Someone does – I can understand that you have to go after this senator – but Neal’s business …”
He didn’t let her finish. “Neal’s business is my business. It always will be. And whatever Ellen hid away is going to help me put Pratt behind bars. You shouldn’t have interfered, El.”
His wife was unrepentant. “Your life is more important to me than anything. Helping Neal isn’t official business – ”
Peter sighed, both annoyed and understanding. “But it ties in with everything, you have to see that.” He played his trump card, “Keeping me out of the loop will only put me in danger.”
It was now bright enough to see El flush and turn pale. “What do you want me to say? That it’s okay for you to keep risking your life for Neal? That he’s got just as much claim on your well-being as I do?”
“You’re jealous?” He couldn’t quite believe where this conversation was heading.
“No.” A single word, no elaboration.
“El? Hon?”
She was silent for a moment. Peter waited, heartsick.
“No, I’m not – not like you think. I understand your bond with Neal, and I’m not jealous of that. He’s as much a part of my life, my heart, too. But when you put yourself in danger because of him, I can’t help but resent it. And try to do something about it.”
“I don’t know what to say, hon. You can’t ask this of me, you can’t ask me to ignore everything that I stand for.” He eased himself out of the chair, stiff muscles protesting, and wrapped his arms around his wife. “I love you, and I will do everything I can to stay safe, but I can’t not do this.”
El remained stiff for a moment, finally relaxing against him. “And I can’t promise not to try and keep you safe, anyway I can.”
Peter smiled and pressed a kiss into El’s hair. “I suppose there are worse things than having my wife look out for me.”
“Yeah, I could be trying to kill you, instead.”
He laughed, relieved. He was going to have a long heart-to-heart with Neal about a number of things – including his submission to Elizabeth’s will. And at some point, El was going to have to understand that forcing Neal to lie was the worst possible thing she could do to him and Neal. But that was for another time. His stomach rumbled, echoing his relief. “I think you said something about waffles?”
FIN
Author:
elrhiarhodanFandom: White Collar
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Peter Burke, Elizabeth Burke, Peter/Elizabeth, implied Peter/Neal, Peter/Elizabeth/Neal
Spoilers: S4.12 – Brass Tacks
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~1400
Beta Credit: None
Summary: Episode tag/Fix-it fic for Elizabeth’s actions in Brass Tacks, the consequences of asking Neal to lie to Peter.
A/N: A slightly belated birthday fic for my dearest friend,
dmk0064, may every day of your life be as good as your birthday was.Title from Lavender Diamond’s “I’ll Never Lie Again.”
There were many constants in Peter’s universe: Someone always seemed to take his parking spot thirty seconds before he got home. He knows he’ll forget to pick up the dry cleaning at least once a month. The coffee at the office is still horrible, despite his attempts to keep the pot clean.
Neal will never lie to his face. Ever.
That day, two years ago, when Neal told him that he may have, on occasion, let him draw certain conclusions that weren't correct, but he never an actual lied to him, Peter was skeptical. Neal had let the matter drop, but Peter kept turning Neal’s statement over and over and came to the realization that yes, Neal might misdirect, might deflect and demur in a million different and exquisitely subtle ways, but he never lied to his face. Not even during their darkest days, when Peter was (rightfully) convinced that Neal was up to his neck in the theft of the treasure, did Neal directly lie to him.
Of course, he’d been very careful not to ask Neal any questions that might require him to lie.
But this lie was inexplicable. Neal was on board with letting Jones work with Mozzie, and had even gone so far as to back him up when he ordered Moz to give Jones custody of the key. Jones was too good of an agent to let some expected slight-of-hand get past him, but even if he hadn’t come to the hospital and told him what happened, Peter still would have known that Neal was lying. It was all over his face – including fleeting traces of shame and self-disgust.
Neal wasn’t proud of what he did. Not in the least.
And Peter couldn’t figure out why – after so many years – after so much between them, the good and the bad, that he’d pick this to lie about.
It was a few days after that bastard, Pratt, engineered Reese’s untimely retirement and Peter couldn’t sleep. His body still hurt, his arm ached, his head was pounding. He had a prescription for painkillers, but he hated what they did to his brain. It was better not to take them, not when he needed to think.
Rather than disturb El by tossing and turning, Peter went downstairs and made a cup of tea. He took a sip and grimaced – the only time he ever drank the stuff was when he was sick or couldn’t sleep. He disengaged the alarm and went out onto the patio, letting the sounds of a city at night soothe him.
They didn’t. His mind kept going around in circles, refusing to relax.
Getting to Pratt was going to be difficult and dangerous – more than he had even anticipated. He should have seen this. Thirty years ago, the man had enough juice to get a cop to confess to a murder he didn’t commit. Three days ago, he arranged to have the brakes of his car – an official government vehicle – tampered with. He forced one of the Bureau’s finest agents to retire.
The man’s reach was limitless, his armor nearly perfect. Going after Pratt was likely going to end his career. Hell, with Hughes out of the way and a new AD coming in – someone who was going to give his loyalty to the senator – Neal’s deal and his freedom might be in jeopardy, too.
That thought brought him back to Neal and that damn lie. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. It was all so stupid. Why this? Why now?
Peter shifted in the chair, his body ached and the patio furniture was not the most comfortable even for an uninjured body. But he didn’t want to go back to bed, not like this.
So he sat there, sipped the now-cold tea and tried to reconcile Neal’s actions with the man himself. Despite the hours, he didn’t get far. The birds started to chirp, welcoming the new day with a joy Peter couldn’t share.
“Have you been sitting out here all night?” Elizabeth interrupted his misery. Despite the ratty robe and bed head, she was still a welcome sight.
“Yeah – couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to wake you.” That earned him no gratitude.
“So it was better to sit out here all night, hon?”
“I had things to think about.”
El sighed. “You’re still upset about Reese?”
“Yeah – but it’s not just that. I’m still furious at Neal for lying to me. I just don’t understand it. After everything, all the things we’ve been through, everything we are to each other – he lies to my face about this?”
Even in the dim light of the summer dawn, Peter could see something cross El’s face. It looked suspiciously like guilt. “Hon?”
She turned away. “How about a cup of coffee and some breakfast? I’m in the mood for waffles.”
He made a grab for her, snagging her robe. “El, what’s going on?”
“Nothing – since we’re up early, I just thought …”
Peter winced, his strained muscles protested as he pulled Elizabeth back and onto his lap. “What do you know?”
“What’s with the interrogation?” She grinned at him, but after nearly thirteen years of marriage, Peter knew all of his wife’s smiles (like he knew all of Neal’s). This one was patently unconvincing.
“You know something, El. Don’t lie to me.”
“About what?”
“About Neal and why he lied.” El froze in his arms; it was like he was holding a mannequin, not a living woman. “Hon?”
She buried her face in his shoulder – the uninjured one. “It’s my fault.”
He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. They were filled with worry and regret. “Why is it your fault?”
“I told him to lie – you were unconscious and I was terrified. I asked him to get you out of the hunt for Ellen’s evidence box. I was afraid you’d get killed – that the next time someone knocked on the door; it would be to tell me you were dead. Neal didn’t want to – he kept saying that he doesn’t lie to you – but I insisted.” Her words came out in a rush.
Peter didn’t know what to think. “You don’t need to protect me, El.”
She pulled herself out of his arms and stood up, a determined goddess in a ratty bathrobe. “Someone does – I can understand that you have to go after this senator – but Neal’s business …”
He didn’t let her finish. “Neal’s business is my business. It always will be. And whatever Ellen hid away is going to help me put Pratt behind bars. You shouldn’t have interfered, El.”
His wife was unrepentant. “Your life is more important to me than anything. Helping Neal isn’t official business – ”
Peter sighed, both annoyed and understanding. “But it ties in with everything, you have to see that.” He played his trump card, “Keeping me out of the loop will only put me in danger.”
It was now bright enough to see El flush and turn pale. “What do you want me to say? That it’s okay for you to keep risking your life for Neal? That he’s got just as much claim on your well-being as I do?”
“You’re jealous?” He couldn’t quite believe where this conversation was heading.
“No.” A single word, no elaboration.
“El? Hon?”
She was silent for a moment. Peter waited, heartsick.
“No, I’m not – not like you think. I understand your bond with Neal, and I’m not jealous of that. He’s as much a part of my life, my heart, too. But when you put yourself in danger because of him, I can’t help but resent it. And try to do something about it.”
“I don’t know what to say, hon. You can’t ask this of me, you can’t ask me to ignore everything that I stand for.” He eased himself out of the chair, stiff muscles protesting, and wrapped his arms around his wife. “I love you, and I will do everything I can to stay safe, but I can’t not do this.”
El remained stiff for a moment, finally relaxing against him. “And I can’t promise not to try and keep you safe, anyway I can.”
Peter smiled and pressed a kiss into El’s hair. “I suppose there are worse things than having my wife look out for me.”
“Yeah, I could be trying to kill you, instead.”
He laughed, relieved. He was going to have a long heart-to-heart with Neal about a number of things – including his submission to Elizabeth’s will. And at some point, El was going to have to understand that forcing Neal to lie was the worst possible thing she could do to him and Neal. But that was for another time. His stomach rumbled, echoing his relief. “I think you said something about waffles?”
