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elrhiarhodanTitle: It Must Be Now - Part Six of Seven
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Artist:treonb / Art Post
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, Elizabeth Burke, David Siegel, Diana Berrigan, Theodore "Mozzie" Winters, Theo Berrigan, Sara Ellis, Clinton Jones, Matthew Keller; Peter/Elizabeth (Past), Peter/Neal (Past), Neal/Keller (Past), Peter/Neal
Word Count: ~60,000
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Major Character Illness
Beta Credit:pooh_collector, sinfulslasher
Summary: In this alternate universe, the story opens as Peter and Elizabeth's marriage ends. Peter tries to move into a new life, but finds himself haunted by his past - a relationship with Neal Caffrey when they were both students at Harvard - and a future that might come to an end far too soon.
Author’s Note: Many, many thanks to my alpha readerstheatregirl7299 and miri_thompson, who provided an endless bounty of encouragement.
Even more thanks to my wonderful and talented artist,treonb, who created the beautiful and evocative promo video.
Title from the Annie Lennox Song "Oh God (Prayer)", which TreonB used in the vid.
__________________
Neal hadn't intended to force the issue with Peter. He'd told himself to go slow, let Peter set the pace, but of course, his lack of impulse control made that impossible. He certainly hadn't planned on asking Peter to move in.
Last night, as he watched Peter sleep, he decided that the best approach was to play it slow, to woo Peter. Have him over for dinner when he was able to eat, offer to go with him to his chemo sessions, show up with some easy food for dinner and a movie. They needed time to relearn who they were, to find that easy camaraderie that had defined them back in their Harvard days.
As they'd both said last night, they were different people now.
But as much as a quarter-century of living different lives had changed them, he – Neal – still had the impulse control of a three-year-old. At least when it came to Peter.
Even after he'd told Peter that they'd needed to talk, he hadn't intended to ask him to move in. He was going to tell him that he'd spoken with a friend – an oncologist – and she'd given him the rundown on what to expect. All Neal had planned on saying was that he was concerned about Peter's health, that he needed to eat properly, to get enough rest.
If he'd had no intention of asking Peter to move in, Neal certainly hadn't planned on telling him that he loved him. Still loved him. But he had, and there was no way he could take it back. Truth be told, he really didn't want to.
The silence in the kitchen was profound. But at least Peter didn't leave. He didn't laugh at him. He didn't call him a liar or a fool. He just stared at his empty coffee cup, his expression unreadable. "I thought you hated me. Your scenarios of our reunion were pretty devastating."
"And for every moment I'd spent conjuring up those cruelties, there were a thousand other moments when I'd fantasized about what our life would have been like if we hadn't parted."
"You mean, if I hadn't been such a fucking coward."
Neal shrugged, conceding the point. "And there were another thousand moments of imagining a joyful reunion – where you were happy to see me. Where you wanted to be friends again." He shook his head. "Fifty years old, and I still feel like a teenager when it comes to you. I think the 'what ifs' and 'might have beens' will haunt me until I die."
Peter looked at him, chin raised, shoulders back. "I don't regret the life I've led. I don't regret my marriage. I don't regret joining the FBI. I don't regret putting the years of promiscuity behind me. But I do regret hurting you. I regret my cowardice and my cruelty. If I could have seen another path, I would have taken it."
"You loved your wife."
"Yes." Peter touched his ring finger, right where a wedding band would have been. "Elizabeth was the best thing that happened to me – I didn't deserve her."
Neal knew too much about the other half of this story and it was killing him to hear Peter talk about how much he loved his wife. "Did she know?"
"About what? That I'm bisexual?"
"Yes."
"Yeah – I told her when we started to get serious. I told her almost everything. The men, the women, my reputation."
Neal latched onto one word. "Almost?"
"I never told Elizabeth about indulging David's predilection for voyeurism." Peter sighed. "And I never told her about you."
That confession did something to Neal. "It didn't bother her? Your bisexuality?" Neal thought he knew the answer, but he wanted Peter to confirm it.
And he did. "Not in the least. She never questioned my fidelity, she knew that I never wanted anyone but her once I made that commitment. It was one of the reasons why I loved her so much. She trusted me."
"That is a rare and precious gift."
"And I fucked it up."
"How?"
"I didn't cheat on my wife, if that's what you’re asking. I know it might be hard to believe, given my reputation when we were at Harvard, but I never looked at another woman, at another man when I was married."
"Actually, Peter, that would be the last thing I'd expect you to do. You were always a man who kept his promises." Neal sipped his now cold coffee. It was revolting. "So, how did you fuck up?"
"I didn't let Elizabeth breathe. I smothered her. I tried too hard to be perfect."
"You said she left you."
"She asked for a divorce about a year ago. I didn't fight it."
"Why not?"
Peter didn't answer and Neal figured that maybe this was a question he didn't want to answer. But he did, and the answer surprised him. "Maybe because deep down, I figured that it was inevitable. I didn't deserve El. After what I did to you, I didn't deserve her generosity, her trust. Her love."
"Peter – " Neal felt like he was about to cry. "That's not true – you did what you had to do."
"I didn't have to tell you we weren't friends. I didn't have to deny that. But I was afraid, and now I'm paying for it."
Neal had a sudden, horrible suspicion. "What do you mean, paying for it? You don't think you deserve to have cancer?"
Peter wouldn't look at him, he didn't answer, and his silence was confirmation enough.
Neal couldn't bear it anymore. Not Peter's pain, not even the few feet of distance between them. He walked over to him and did the only thing he could do to ease his own pain. He wrapped his arms around the other man and held him.
For a few, too-long seconds, Peter was stiff and unyielding and Neal thought he might just shatter. But then he sighed and relaxed against Neal, resting his head against his shoulder. Neal threaded his fingers through Peter's hair, cupping his skull and holding him against his heart.
Peter murmured, more to himself than to Neal, "I don't deserve this. I don't deserve a moment of your kindness. This is my punishment."
A dozen rebukes crowded on Neal's tongue, cold logic to do battle with Peter's magical thinking. But cold logic had no place in this moment. "I love you. Don't ever think that you don't deserve to be loved." Neal could feel hot tears soaking into his shirt, but that was only right. He was crying, too. "I love you, I've always loved you, and I don't care about the past."
Peter shuddered in his arms, and Neal just kept crooning those words, hoping that he could break through the wall that Peter had built, that this declaration could crack the mortar. He knew that Peter didn't believe him, couldn't allow himself to believe, to hope. He'd been through too much and too many of his wounds were self-inflicted, but just maybe these words would lay a foundation for something better, something stronger.
Too soon, Peter pulled away. He wiped his eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm dying, Neal."
Neal shook his head. "No – that's not true. Last night, you told me that you have a good chance of surviving."
"That's what the doctors say, but I can't see a future where I survive. There's a good possibility that the chemotherapy will kill me. I can't do this to you. I couldn't do it to Elizabeth, either."
Neal suddenly remembered Elizabeth's breakdown the other night, when she'd told him how brutally her ex had cut her out of his life. Even though he knew the story, he had to ask, "What do you mean?"
"I did to Elizabeth what I did to you. Only this time, my reasons were slightly less selfish. I told her that we weren't friends, we were just exes, and I got up and left. She was worried about me and I couldn't bear to tell her that I'm sick. She'd feel obligated to take care of me – after everything – she'd insist that I move back into the house. She'd give up the life she loved to care for a man she no longer did."
There was nothing in Peter's recitation that contradicted what Elizabeth had told him. Even down to the fact that Elizabeth no longer loved him. But it still angered Neal – not just on Elizabeth's behalf – because Peter was insisting on being a martyr. "So, you planned to just slink off, turn your face to the wall, and die? You never intended on telling anyone who cared about you that you are sick?"
"I don't want to be an obligation to her, to anyone."
"Diana Berrigan."
"What?" Peter was puzzled by his non-sequitur.
"My troubleshooter, your friend and former co-worker. Does she know your wife?"
"Ex-wife, and yes she does. We were close."
"And you don't think she's not going to go see her? To find out what's going on? I know she was shocked at the news you were divorced and she was very worried at how terrible you looked."
"Damn. I hadn't thought about that."
There was one thing Neal had to know. "Do you still love your ex-wife?"
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Neal's question felt like a punch in the face. But it was one he should have seen coming. And after everything that Neal had told him, it was a question he couldn't duck. Before Neal could retract it, Peter answered, "I don't know."
That answer seemed to surprise Neal. It surprised him, too. But it was the truth. "For as long as we were married, I was in love with Elizabeth. I loved her with a whole heart and if we were still married, I'd still love her."
"But you're not in love with her now?"
Peter tried to work out the question. "There's a difference between loving and being 'in love' – I think I will always care about her, deeply, profoundly. But if your question is do I have romantic feelings for my ex-wife, then I have to say I really don't think so."
"But you're not sure."
He sighed, feeling like a heel. "It's complex – and not just because El left me. I'm sick and I'm always feeling sorry for myself. I know if I tell El, we'd end up back together and she'd be miserable – although she'd never say a word or let it show. I'd be using her affection for me. And it would be easy to convince myself that my feelings for her are unchanged."
Neal asked another devastating question, "What if you weren't sick? What if your ex-wife knocked on your door and admitted that she'd made a terrible mistake, that she still loves you and wants to be with you? Would you get back together?"
Peter answered without even thinking, "No." His own answer shocked him. "When I signed the divorce papers, I thought I wanted nothing more than to be Elizabeth's husband. I still miss that, but I can't go back."
Neal sat next to him but the distance between them felt immense. "It's all so complicated."
"I can't move in with you, Neal. I can't let you do this."
"Why not?"
"I'd be using you. Just as I'd be using Elizabeth if she knew."
"You wouldn't be using me. I offered, remember? I want to take care of you. It's not like either of us are lacking resources. I'm not signing up for emptying bedpans, you know. When you need, if you need skilled care, you can arrange for it and pay for it yourself. But you shouldn't be alone. You should be with someone who cares for you. Someone who loves you and will make this future endurable."
Peter sucked in his breath, the surge of emotions at Neal's words making him dizzy.
Neal laid a hand over his. "I know it's crazy, I know I'm opening myself up for a universe of pain, but I love you."
"I can't have sex." Peter shook his head and laughed at himself. "Getting ahead of myself there. But it's the truth. I haven't had an erection since … since before the diagnosis."
Neal shrugged. "It's been six months since I've been with someone other than my own hand. Sex isn't a big deal for me right now. And you're sick. You've been having radiation treatments, chemotherapy."
"I know, but there's more to it than that. I only found out I had cancer when I noticed a lump in my groin. It was interfering with … things."
"Did you have surgery?"
Peter nodded. "That's part of the problem – some of the nerves in the area were affected. Things feel weird." He didn't know why he was blurting this out to Neal, but it seemed like he needed to make a full disclosure. "And the scar is pretty ugly."
Neal's hand still rested on his, and his thumb caressed his knuckles. That gesture felt as intimate as a kiss.
"Sex was good between us, and at the risk of resurrecting a painful old ghost, I think it overshadowed something that was a lot more important."
Peter agreed. "The relationship I was too afraid to admit I wanted."
"You weren't the only one who was afraid to take the next step."
"Huh?"
Neal sighed. "I never said anything about how I felt, either. I just let us coast along. You said you were New York-bound, so I suggested we get a place together."
"You were planning on traveling, you wanted a home base."
"Which could have been anywhere in the world. The truth was, I desperately wanted to be near you without letting you know how I felt. I was scared, too. You weren't anyone's idea of a significant other."
Despite being profoundly shaken by Neal's disclosure, Peter laughed. "I was a slut."
Neal countered with "Man-whore."
"Not denying it."
"And I thought I'd be in for some major heartache if I said anything. I really had no clue that you weren't having sex with any other guys."
"I don't know if I wouldn't have run for the hills if I knew how you felt. And I know that's a complete contradiction – I was jealous, worried about who you were hooking up with when you were traveling, and I was terrified that you didn't really care about me. But I was still scared."
"You wanted to be successful. You had a future you worked hard for and you didn't want to ruin it. It was the eighties and no one was out of the closet on Wall Street. It might have been worse for you if you were outed as bisexual."
Peter still had a hard time believing that Neal had forgiven him. "Why are you so understanding? Why don't you hate me?"
Neal let go of his hand and Peter shivered. "I did, for a while. I hated you for lying to me that last day. I hated you for your cowardice. But I couldn't forget that until that moment, you never lied to me, you never made any promises, you never pretended to be anything but who you were. Maybe if I'd said something, you wouldn't have felt like you needed to make that break. What if I said, let's go out on our own. Let's make a name for ourselves. What might have happened then? For twenty-five years I've lived with those questions. And while I don't regret the path my own life has taken, I don't want to let go of the chance to have a future with you."
"That future might be very brief, Neal."
"I know, and that's a risk that I'm willing to take."
Peter didn't know what to say. To have this dream within reach was almost more than he could bear.
And then his stomach rumbled. Loudly.
"Are you all right?" Neal gave him a worried look, remembering what happened last night.
"Actually, I think I'm hungry." Peter laughed in amazement.
"Now, can I make breakfast for you?"
"I think I'd like that."
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
"Moz, I really appreciate this." Diana let her boss – and for today, her babysitter – into her townhouse.
"You don't need to thank me. Always glad to watch out for my namesake."
Diana ground her teeth and stopped herself from reminding him that it was pure coincidence that Moz and her son had the same given name. She'd given birth a year before she'd even met Theodore Winters.
"Now where is my little bambino?"
Diana took a deep breath and prayed for patience. "Theo's in his playroom, but before – " She was about to start giving him a list of instructions, but Moz ignored her and headed upstairs with a bag that was probably filled with all sorts of nonsense. After the last time he'd watched her son, she found copies of "A Child's Garden of Global Conspiracy Theories" and "Going Off the Grid – An Early Learner's Coloring Book" tucked in Theo's bookcase.
Her little boy looked up from the elaborate game he was playing with his stuffed animals and smiled. "Mothie!" He ran over and hugged Moz, babbling about visitin' and doggies and candy.
"Visitin'?"
Trust her son to be so indiscreet. "We stopped by to see a friend. She has a dog. Theo was … smitten."
"Every boy should have a dog."
Of course, that set Theo off. "Doggie! Doggie! Can I have a doggie, Momma?"
Diana winced; trust Moz to bring chaos into her household. "Sweetie, you know we can't have a doggie right now. Not until you're a little older."
Theo pouted. "But …"
"Why not now?" Moz was intent on ruining her peace of mind.
"Because a p-u-p-p-y needs a lot of care and attention."
Moz frowned, but didn't make any further comments on the canine-less state of her household. Instead, he picked Theo up and started asking him all sorts of questions about his favorite toys.
"If I can have your attention for a few minutes."
Moz turned and gave her the stink-eye. "I'm listening."
"I'll be back by three. You can go out for a walk, but don't let him out of your sight. Theo's become a runner. His lunch is in the fridge – he generally eats well, but if he's fussy, don't force the issue. You can help yourself to anything in the house, except my wine or liquor."
"What about the pot in the back of the freezer?"
Diana wanted to tear her hair out. "There is no pot in the back of the freezer. There is no pot anywhere in my home! You are here to look after my child, not to get drunk or stoned."
Moz made a rude noise that she was sure she'd be hearing from Theo when she got home. "That I can do anytime. Having fun with this little gentleman will be the highlight of my week."
She didn't know why she let him get to her. She knew that he was – at least with children – utterly and completely trustworthy.
"If I may ask, what is the errand that takes you from this happy home?"
"I need to check up on an old friend, someone I'm worried about."
Moz nodded. "Then you better get going. We have things to do." He made a funny face at Theo, who giggled and made his own face back.
Satisfied that her precious son was in good hands, Diana left. It was a nice day and the walk from the Upper East Side to Columbus Circle took about a half-hour. She used the time to consider her conversation with Peter. Up until this past year, they'd been very close. Peter had been her sounding board and confidant, but the obligations of a new job and a growing toddler had loosened those bonds.
But those bonds were still strong, strong enough for her to get to the root of a very obvious problem.
When she got to the address that Elizabeth had provided, she double-checked it. This tall glass pillar was not a place where she could envision Peter Burke living. He might have become wealthy working on Wall Street, but he was still beer-drinking, dog-walking, sports-loving ordinary-guy Peter.
"Can I help you?" The red-coated doorman gave her a slightly suspicious look. She wished she still had a badge and gun on her hip.
"I'm looking for Peter Burke, can you tell me if he's home?" She hoped this wasn't the sort of building that refused to acknowledge residents. Apparently it wasn't. The doorman picked up a phone from a small console by the entrance, pressed a number and waited for a few moments before returning.
"Mr. Burke isn't accepting visitors at the moment."
Since Diana didn't see the man's lips move when he was on the phone, she had to figure that Peter wasn't home. So much for her well-planned ambush. And there was no point in leaving a message here, she'd call him at his office tomorrow and if his admin tried to block her, she'd chop him up and feed him to some subway rats.
As she turned to leave, she noticed the doorman's eyes widen and he went into the equivalent of parade rest. Diana couldn't help but follow his gaze.
She smiled; there was Peter – and in the harsh morning light, he was looking a hell of a lot better that he had on Wednesday. He didn't notice her, however. Maybe because he was talking with another man.
Someone she knew quite well. Her boss, Neal Caffrey.
Neal saw her first, and he smiled that familiar grin – the one she'd seen him give reluctant clients just before they handed over control of their fortunes. Then Peter noticed her, and he smiled, too. His grin, though, was full of warmth and sincerity.
"Diana! What a lovely coincidence." Peter reached out and hugged her. "What brings you to the Upper West Side?"
Neal stood there, hands in his pockets, that fake smile still plastered on his lips. "Yes, Diana – I'm curious, too. This isn't your usual stomping grounds. And where's Theo?"
"Theo's at home, with a sitter." There was no way she was going to tell Neal that Moz was watching her son. "And I'm here to talk with Peter."
"Me?" Peter seemed surprised. "I'd asked my admin to get back in touch with you – to set up a meeting with …" He looked over to her boss and she wasn't sure, but there might have been a light flush climbing his cheeks. "Neal."
Diana blinked, worried for her friend and concerned about what her employer was getting up to. "What's going on here?"
Peter looked over at Neal, as if he was seeking some guidance. Neal's smile softened and Diana thought he looked besotted. But when he answered her question, there was a thread of steel in his tone. "That's really none of your concern."
"Actually, Neal, it is. You're a principal owner of a company that's looking to do business with Peter's firm. And here it is, Sunday morning and you're heading back to Peter's apartment. This doesn't look particularly kosher."
Neal replied with unaccustomed aggressiveness, "Maybe we're just coming from church."
"You're an avowed atheist and Peter's a lapsed Catholic. So I repeat, what's going on?"
Peter stepped between them, as if he thought they might come to blows. "Guys, let's not do this here, okay?"
Diana realized that they had a very avid audience – the doorman.
Neal gave a terse nod. "Shall we go up?"
Peter led them inside, to a bank of elevators that required key-card access. For some reason, Neal grinned when Peter pressed the button for the twenty-first floor. Diana thought it was amusing that Peter now lived on the same floor as their old offices at the FBI, but didn't know why Neal would share that amusement.
Peter's apartment was distinctly un-Peter-like. Too much gloss and black leather. But she wasn't here to critique her friend's terrible design aesthetic. "Now, will one of you please tell me what's going on?"
Neal started to say something, but Peter held up a hand, cutting him off. "Neal and I knew each other from our time at Harvard."
"Knew each other? How well?"
This time, Neal answered. "We shared a house for three years."
"And yet, you did a very good job of pretending that you'd never met before." She glared at Neal. "You pumped me for information. Some pretty personal stuff."
Peter tried to intervene. "Don't be angry at him. If I'd known you were working for Neal, I'd have done the same thing."
"I don't understand." She looked from Peter to Neal and back to Peter again.
Peter explained, "We didn't part as friends. I did something pretty shitty and we hadn't seen each other in twenty-five years. I was shocked when you showed up with Neal at my offices last week, and when Neal played it cool, I figured it was best to do the same. But we've had the chance to clear the air. To mend fences."
Diana wasn't ready to be mollified and she took her anger out on Neal. "You shouldn't have done that to me – you shouldn't have played me like that."
Neal's expression turned hard, so hard that the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. "My relationship with Peter Burke is none of your business. The questions I asked were legitimately related to my concerns about his representation of Sundance Equity. You volunteered the information about Peter's divorce, about his relationship with his wife."
Diana stepped back, as if she'd been slapped. Neal was absolutely correct. "I should have known better – I've seen you work people. You're a social engineer without equal, and I don't know why I thought I'd be exempt from your – your deviousness."
Neal smirked, his expression cold and nasty. "Diana, if you don't like working for me, you are free to pursue other alternatives."
Peter intervened, "Neal – don't be like that. Diana's an old friend and she's looking out for me."
Neal responded to Peter, but he continued to look at her with that same derisive expression. "Diana doesn't need you to stick up for her. She's a badass without equal – and if you know her as well as you think you do, you know that she can take just what she dishes out." He waited for a few moments, then asked, "Well, Diana?"
"Peter's right – I am looking out for him. But I'm also looking out for you. This – this relationship is going to make things complicated."
Neal asked, "Why?"
"Ever hear of conflict of interest rules?"
"Peter's a friend, an old school tie. You know the game – Wall Street would fall apart without them."
"Sundance is a small firm with a huge footprint. Shepard and Franklin is another small firm with an outsized reputation. A perfect scenario for publicity-hungry regulators and Assistant U.S. Attorneys looking to get their names in the paper. If there's something going on between you two, it probably would be best if Sundance looked elsewhere for a financial advisor."
Neal asked a reasonable question in a rather unreasonable tone, "Why do you think there's 'something going on' between us? We're old college friends who've reconciled their differences."
She snapped back, "Because you're gay and Peter's bisexual and even if you've just 'reconciled your differences' I can see the hearts and flowers around you like you're posing for a Valentine's Day card."
Neal gaped at her. "You know Peter's bi?" He then turned to Peter with a very hurt expression. "You told her?"
Some of the anger she felt about Neal's ulterior motives for questioning her last week was erased by the pain in that question. "I was having a hard time at the office. I sort of came out in the middle of a big meeting."
"I thought the FBI had a policy about that."
Diana responded, "Don't Ask/Don't Tell? That was the military."
"I know that – I thought the FBI didn't ask and didn't care. The 1992 Consent Decree."
"You know about that?"
"I had reason to keep track of such things." Neal kept a careful gaze on her. "So, why did Peter tell you he was bi?"
"After I blurted out that I had a girlfriend, I spent the next week worrying that I was going to be fired or transferred and Peter realized what I was thinking. He told me that things were different than when he'd joined, that there was no need to stay in the closet if I didn't want to. No one was going to care."
Peter finally contributed to the conversation. "Diana didn't believe me. That's why I told her."
There was a lot more to it than that, but Neal seemed to accept the explanation. "If you really think that we're going to run into problems, then we'll back away from Shepard and Franklin."
Diana watched as Peter went over to Neal and put a hand on his shoulder. "You won't have to. It's not like I'm going to be overseeing the work, anyway."
Neal nodded, understanding something that Diana had no clue about.
"Peter? Will you please tell me what's going on?"
Peter scrubbed his face and Diana was again struck by how ill he looked. Without the padding and tailoring of a suit or the bulk of a jacket, the weight loss was way too evident. And from the worried expression on Neal's face, there seemed to be something very wrong.
Neal leaned into Peter's space and gave him a concerned look. Peter shook his head. Diana couldn't help but feel a touch of envy. These two had been apart for a quarter-century and yet they seemed to have the whole silent communication thing down pat. She'd never had that, not even with Christie.
Peter sat down, Neal sat next to him – close but not touching – and rather than being the last one standing, Diana sat down across from them. She figured she had one more card to play. "I was in Brooklyn yesterday. I stopped by and saw Elizabeth."
Peter and Neal exchanged looks again, and for some reason Neal looked just a little smug – as if she'd just proved him right.
Peter sighed and asked, "And what did my ex-wife have to say?"
"She's angry at you. But she's worried, too."
"I know."
"I feel like a broken record, Peter, but can you please tell me what's wrong?"
Neal touched Peter's hand and Peter clasped Neal's fingers, then sat up a little straighter. "I have cancer. Neal knows, but he found out by accident. Other than the people at work who need to know, you're the first person I've actually told."
Shocked, the only thing Diana could say was, "That's a rather dubious honor."
"One I'd rather not have had to bestow."
Diana ached to ask for details, but there was something in Peter's posture that made her feel like he was at the end of his rope. "I'm guessing that you don't want me to say anything to Elizabeth."
"No, please don't. That's something I need to do myself. I need to make things right."
"Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Other than be a pain in the ass to this guy –" He nodded in Neal's direction, and Neal ducked his head but seemed to smile with a sort of quiet delight, "no. Not right now."
To her surprise, Neal spoke. "Don't be a stranger. Peter's going to need his friends. I don't know if you're the type who gets weirded out by sickness – and that's not something you can control – but stay in touch with him. Send funny cat pictures and bad jokes or videos of Theo doing something silly, if that's all you can manage, but as much as you can, stay a part of his life. That's important."
Diana felt like she was about to cry and maybe she looked like that, too, because Peter came over and hugged her. "Can't promise that it'll be fine, but I'll do my best to make it that way."
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
After Diana left, Peter felt a strange sort of tension radiating from Neal. He was tired, feeling slightly nauseous, but he couldn't ignore it. "What's the matter?"
Neal gave him a startled look. "Nothing. Why do you ask?"
"You seem a little upset."
"I do?"
Despite the passage of years, Peter hadn't forgotten how good Neal was at deflecting. "Come on, you seem upset. What's going on?"
Neal sighed. "Just worried. About you. About Diana."
"You were a little hard on her. Not that she can't take it."
"I don't like being the bad guy."
"I actually thought it was kind of cute, you going all badass." Peter grinned at the flush that stole across Neal's cheeks. "I kind of liked you being so protective, even if it wasn't necessary."
"This is very new." Neal made a gesture that encompassed the two of them. "It feels fragile and I don't want anything to happen to it."
"Diana was looking out for both of us."
"She was looking out for you. I might sign her paycheck, but she doesn't really quite trust me. She sees me as a shark in a good suit, not a lot of substance and less morals."
"She sees what you show her. Somehow I don't think you've really let your guard down around her, and she's still too much of an FBI agent to trust easily."
"It's ironic, but I think she trusts my partner a hell of a lot more."
"Theo Winters?" Peter wanted to know more about the man who'd been a fixture in Neal's life from almost the time that they'd parted.
"Mozzie."
"He's a little different."
"And then some. I'm surprised you haven't had a workup done on him. On both of us."
Peter figured that lying at this stage would be a bad idea. "Actually, I did get a report on you. But we couldn't find much on your partner."
Neal chuckled. "Your research team is good – they didn't trigger any of the alerts I've set up."
"My staff has some unusual resources."
"I'm curious, now. What scandalous information did they find?"
Pleased that Neal wasn't upset at his digging, Peter relaxed. "Nothing scandalous at all."
"Then you couldn't have dug very deep."
"Or maybe you have a different idea of what constitutes scandalous behavior."
Neal didn't answer, but looked at him with one skeptical eyebrow raised.
"I know you've hired 'escorts', if that's what you're getting at."
"Yeah." Neal shrugged diffidently. "I haven't had much luck with long-term relationships and sometimes I get lonely. It was just easier to pay for a night's company than deal with the inevitable failure."
Peter felt something shift in his perception of Neal. "Did I do this to you?"
"Do what?"
"Make you …" Peter struggled to find the words.
"Hire prostitutes? You might be responsible for a lot of things, but that's not one of them." Neal's tone was flippant.
"No – not that. Make you so certain that any relationship would fail."
Neal rested his chin on his hand, the mocking twist to his lips softened. "Honestly, yeah."
"I'm so sorry. I know I already said that, but I am." The shame eviscerated him.
"It's your fault, but not the way you think."
"What do you mean?"
Neal smiled, a sad little twist to his lips. "Those relationships failed because I kept looking for you, kept wanting you. And the older I got, the more I realized that since I couldn't have who I really wanted, there was no point in deluding myself into believing I'd be able to settle for something else."
"Neal – " He felt like his heart was breaking.
"Peter, it's okay. Really." Neal touched his cheek, the caress almost too fleeting.
The drama with Diana, and now with Neal, was exhausting – and worse, it seemed to have triggered his nausea. "I think I need to lie down."
Neal nodded. "Do you want to get into bed?"
"No – actually the couch is a lot more comfortable than my bed."
"Okay. Maybe you want to get into something more comfortable?"
Peter nodded. "Probably should take a pill, too. Before I really need it." He got up and retrieved the bottle from his jacket pocket. Hating to sound needy, but unable to stop himself, he asked, "Would you stay for a while? Until I fall asleep?"
Neal smiled softly. "I have no plans to go anywhere."
Peter felt like he'd just been given a gift of immeasurable worth. "Thank you."
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
"Nice hours you're keeping," Moz commented as Neal helped himself to one of the fresh bagels that were delivered every day. "Glad one of us is interested in getting some work done."
"Your snark isn't appreciated this morning." Neal prepped the office espresso machine with a little more force than necessary.
"You okay?"
Neal shrugged, he really didn't want to talk about his weekend with anyone, least of all his too-perceptive business partner. "Had a rough weekend."
"So you decided to sleep in?"
Neal shrugged again and concentrated on spreading just the right amount of cream cheese on the bagel. "I had something I needed to take care of this morning."
"Something more important than the meeting with the Pedersons?"
Neal winced. "Sorry, I forgot. How did it go?"
Moz rocked back on his heels and grinned. "Had the old man eating out of my hand. It was probably better that you weren't there. We seem to have developed a nice bond." Moz rubbed his shiny pate. "I think he likes me better. You're too – shall we say – follicularly blessed."
Neal remembered that the old man, the patriarch of the clan, was as hairless as a newborn babe. Except for a rather spectacular set of eyebrows. "So, are we a go?"
"Yup. He's going to convince the family that Sundance is the key to reviving their fortunes. They just want to meet the entire team. Are we good with Shepard and Franklin? Even though Peter Burke went AWOL in the middle of the meeting?"
Neal felt the beginnings of a flop sweat form at the base of his spine. He hated lying, especially to Moz. And then he rationalized, it really wasn't lying. Just the omission of some not-really-relevant facts. "I think we're good with them. You liked Landon Shepard and Diana trusts Burke. Have they sent over an engagement letter?"
"Yup, read it, reviewed it, sent it back and told them to cut the hourly rates by twenty percent and promised a two-point bonus if the deal closes in twenty days."
"Do you think they'll agree?"
"Already got word back from Landon. She's eager to get to work, we're just waiting on your signature."
"Okay." The espresso machine finished its job and Neal took his cup and his bagel back to his office, where his admin was waiting with the engagement letter. Rather than just signing it, Neal took the time to read it through. He noted that Peter had been listed as the client partner, but work would be performed by associates and other members of the firm and subject to review by any of the other Shepard and Franklin partners. Which was only right, the deal the firm had with Pratt had never sat well with him, for reasons that now seemed obvious.
Neal finished his breakfast and signed the paperwork.
Then he called Peter. "Hey."
"How come your number's in my phone?"
Neal chuckled. "I put it there last night."
"But my phone is fingerprint protected."
"You were sound asleep. I just kept trying fingers until it unlocked."
Diana's right, you are devious."
"Is that a problem?" Neal couldn't stop smiling. This banter felt so damn natural.
"Not in the least. I'll have to try that trick on your phone some time."
"No need, I've already put your data in it."
"Devious, Neal. Very devious."
He changed the subject. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired. Bored. Like I should be in the office, but I know if I was there, I'd barely be able to keep my eyes open."
"Did you eat?"
"No."
Neal sighed. "You need to eat."
"I know, just don't want to start throwing up again."
"What about some fresh fruit?" Neal felt a little ridiculous mother-henning Peter, but he was worried.
Peter didn't answer right away. "You know, some watermelon would be good. If I had the energy, I'd go get some."
"No need. I've got a delivery service. Just clear it with your doorman."
"You don't have to order food for me. I can do that myself."
"Then why haven't you?"
Neal heard the heavy sigh. "Because I've been lazy and feeling sorry for myself."
"Then let me take care of this for you. You'll have fresh fruit and some other stuff within the hour."
"Okay. Thanks."
Neal hated how defeated Peter sounded. "I know I'm being pushy."
"You are. But I appreciate it."
"So, what are you going to do with the rest of your day?"
"Well, other than wait for a delivery, not much. Don't really have the energy. Maybe if I had a dog, I'd take it for a walk. But no dog."
Neal was shocked at the longing in Peter's voice.
Then Peter laughed. "Last time I took a walk by myself, my whole world changed."
"Huh?"
"I ran into an old friend."
Neal smiled, suddenly understanding. "Maybe you should just stay in, then. Your couch is surprisingly comfortable."
"I know I already said it, but thanks for staying last night."
"I – " Early this morning, Neal had brushed off Peter's appreciation with a quip, but this time he couldn't. "I didn't want to leave you."
"It was nice waking up with you there, again."
"I liked it, too." He'd spent all day Sunday with Peter, watching him watch an assortment of football and hockey games, watching him doze, making him dinner from the meager contents of his fridge, and watching him doze some more. He hadn't minded. This time with Peter, after so many years apart, was something rare and precious. Peter had fallen into a deep sleep around eight and resisted Neal's attempts to get him into bed. The couch was broad, and Neal grabbed a blanket and a pillow from a bedroom before settling down next to Peter. Despite the strangeness of the situation, Neal fell asleep once Peter draped an arm over his waist and pulled him close. It was strange, but at the same time, completely natural.
The morning sun had poured through into the apartment with all the subtly of a fist to the face, but Neal woke to find Peter gazing at him, his eyes filled with so much emotion. But they didn't have the time to explore their feelings. It was a little before seven and Peter had to be across town, at Sloan Kettering, for his radiation treatment within the hour.
Despite the fact that he'd slept in his clothes, Neal insisted on accompanying him. He wanted – no, he needed – to understand what Peter was going through. But he was doomed to disappointment. Peter disappeared for about ten minutes, and as he'd explained – he basically stripped to the skin, got onto a table and was zapped for about three seconds. The techs spent more time lining up the little tattoos he'd been marked with than anything else.
"What are you doing?" Peter interrupted his musings.
"Just signed the engagement letter with Shepard and Franklin. Moz did some negotiating and it's fine."
"Thanks."
Over the connection, Neal heard the unmistakable sound of Peter yawning. "Sounds like someone needs a nap."
"You know, that sounds like a good idea."
"Call me when you get up, okay?"
" 'kay." Peter yawned again and Neal resisted the urge to yawn, too. "Talk to you later."
Neal reluctantly ended the call and placed the order for Peter's food. He sat at his desk, staring at nothing. He was still having trouble comprehending how, in three days, his life had become both wonderful and terrible.
"Boss?"
Neal looked up; Diana was hovering in the doorway. From the expression on her face, she seemed uncertain of her welcome. He supposed that he needed to make things right with her. "Come in." Then Neal changed his mind. "Actually, do you feel like going for a walk?"
"A walk?"
"Yeah. I could use some fresh air." He put on his jacket, not waiting for Diana to agree to his request.
"Um, sure."
Neal gestured for her to precede him and while she retrieved her own jacket, he handed the engagement letter back to his admin and told her that he'd be back in an hour or so.
Diana returned and neither of them said anything during the trip down to the street. A little after noon, the lunch crowd was picking up, making it difficult to talk. Neal headed towards Bowling Green. The afternoon sunshine was bright and this would be a good place to talk.
END PART SIX - GO TO PART SEVEN
Author:
elrhiarhodanArtist:
treonb / Art PostFandom: White Collar
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, Elizabeth Burke, David Siegel, Diana Berrigan, Theodore "Mozzie" Winters, Theo Berrigan, Sara Ellis, Clinton Jones, Matthew Keller; Peter/Elizabeth (Past), Peter/Neal (Past), Neal/Keller (Past), Peter/Neal
Word Count: ~60,000
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Major Character Illness
Beta Credit:
pooh_collector, sinfulslasher Summary: In this alternate universe, the story opens as Peter and Elizabeth's marriage ends. Peter tries to move into a new life, but finds himself haunted by his past - a relationship with Neal Caffrey when they were both students at Harvard - and a future that might come to an end far too soon.
Author’s Note: Many, many thanks to my alpha readers
theatregirl7299 and miri_thompson, who provided an endless bounty of encouragement. Even more thanks to my wonderful and talented artist,
treonb, who created the beautiful and evocative promo video. Title from the Annie Lennox Song "Oh God (Prayer)", which TreonB used in the vid.
Neal hadn't intended to force the issue with Peter. He'd told himself to go slow, let Peter set the pace, but of course, his lack of impulse control made that impossible. He certainly hadn't planned on asking Peter to move in.
Last night, as he watched Peter sleep, he decided that the best approach was to play it slow, to woo Peter. Have him over for dinner when he was able to eat, offer to go with him to his chemo sessions, show up with some easy food for dinner and a movie. They needed time to relearn who they were, to find that easy camaraderie that had defined them back in their Harvard days.
As they'd both said last night, they were different people now.
But as much as a quarter-century of living different lives had changed them, he – Neal – still had the impulse control of a three-year-old. At least when it came to Peter.
Even after he'd told Peter that they'd needed to talk, he hadn't intended to ask him to move in. He was going to tell him that he'd spoken with a friend – an oncologist – and she'd given him the rundown on what to expect. All Neal had planned on saying was that he was concerned about Peter's health, that he needed to eat properly, to get enough rest.
If he'd had no intention of asking Peter to move in, Neal certainly hadn't planned on telling him that he loved him. Still loved him. But he had, and there was no way he could take it back. Truth be told, he really didn't want to.
The silence in the kitchen was profound. But at least Peter didn't leave. He didn't laugh at him. He didn't call him a liar or a fool. He just stared at his empty coffee cup, his expression unreadable. "I thought you hated me. Your scenarios of our reunion were pretty devastating."
"And for every moment I'd spent conjuring up those cruelties, there were a thousand other moments when I'd fantasized about what our life would have been like if we hadn't parted."
"You mean, if I hadn't been such a fucking coward."
Neal shrugged, conceding the point. "And there were another thousand moments of imagining a joyful reunion – where you were happy to see me. Where you wanted to be friends again." He shook his head. "Fifty years old, and I still feel like a teenager when it comes to you. I think the 'what ifs' and 'might have beens' will haunt me until I die."
Peter looked at him, chin raised, shoulders back. "I don't regret the life I've led. I don't regret my marriage. I don't regret joining the FBI. I don't regret putting the years of promiscuity behind me. But I do regret hurting you. I regret my cowardice and my cruelty. If I could have seen another path, I would have taken it."
"You loved your wife."
"Yes." Peter touched his ring finger, right where a wedding band would have been. "Elizabeth was the best thing that happened to me – I didn't deserve her."
Neal knew too much about the other half of this story and it was killing him to hear Peter talk about how much he loved his wife. "Did she know?"
"About what? That I'm bisexual?"
"Yes."
"Yeah – I told her when we started to get serious. I told her almost everything. The men, the women, my reputation."
Neal latched onto one word. "Almost?"
"I never told Elizabeth about indulging David's predilection for voyeurism." Peter sighed. "And I never told her about you."
That confession did something to Neal. "It didn't bother her? Your bisexuality?" Neal thought he knew the answer, but he wanted Peter to confirm it.
And he did. "Not in the least. She never questioned my fidelity, she knew that I never wanted anyone but her once I made that commitment. It was one of the reasons why I loved her so much. She trusted me."
"That is a rare and precious gift."
"And I fucked it up."
"How?"
"I didn't cheat on my wife, if that's what you’re asking. I know it might be hard to believe, given my reputation when we were at Harvard, but I never looked at another woman, at another man when I was married."
"Actually, Peter, that would be the last thing I'd expect you to do. You were always a man who kept his promises." Neal sipped his now cold coffee. It was revolting. "So, how did you fuck up?"
"I didn't let Elizabeth breathe. I smothered her. I tried too hard to be perfect."
"You said she left you."
"She asked for a divorce about a year ago. I didn't fight it."
"Why not?"
Peter didn't answer and Neal figured that maybe this was a question he didn't want to answer. But he did, and the answer surprised him. "Maybe because deep down, I figured that it was inevitable. I didn't deserve El. After what I did to you, I didn't deserve her generosity, her trust. Her love."
"Peter – " Neal felt like he was about to cry. "That's not true – you did what you had to do."
"I didn't have to tell you we weren't friends. I didn't have to deny that. But I was afraid, and now I'm paying for it."
Neal had a sudden, horrible suspicion. "What do you mean, paying for it? You don't think you deserve to have cancer?"
Peter wouldn't look at him, he didn't answer, and his silence was confirmation enough.
Neal couldn't bear it anymore. Not Peter's pain, not even the few feet of distance between them. He walked over to him and did the only thing he could do to ease his own pain. He wrapped his arms around the other man and held him.
For a few, too-long seconds, Peter was stiff and unyielding and Neal thought he might just shatter. But then he sighed and relaxed against Neal, resting his head against his shoulder. Neal threaded his fingers through Peter's hair, cupping his skull and holding him against his heart.
Peter murmured, more to himself than to Neal, "I don't deserve this. I don't deserve a moment of your kindness. This is my punishment."
A dozen rebukes crowded on Neal's tongue, cold logic to do battle with Peter's magical thinking. But cold logic had no place in this moment. "I love you. Don't ever think that you don't deserve to be loved." Neal could feel hot tears soaking into his shirt, but that was only right. He was crying, too. "I love you, I've always loved you, and I don't care about the past."
Peter shuddered in his arms, and Neal just kept crooning those words, hoping that he could break through the wall that Peter had built, that this declaration could crack the mortar. He knew that Peter didn't believe him, couldn't allow himself to believe, to hope. He'd been through too much and too many of his wounds were self-inflicted, but just maybe these words would lay a foundation for something better, something stronger.
Too soon, Peter pulled away. He wiped his eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm dying, Neal."
Neal shook his head. "No – that's not true. Last night, you told me that you have a good chance of surviving."
"That's what the doctors say, but I can't see a future where I survive. There's a good possibility that the chemotherapy will kill me. I can't do this to you. I couldn't do it to Elizabeth, either."
Neal suddenly remembered Elizabeth's breakdown the other night, when she'd told him how brutally her ex had cut her out of his life. Even though he knew the story, he had to ask, "What do you mean?"
"I did to Elizabeth what I did to you. Only this time, my reasons were slightly less selfish. I told her that we weren't friends, we were just exes, and I got up and left. She was worried about me and I couldn't bear to tell her that I'm sick. She'd feel obligated to take care of me – after everything – she'd insist that I move back into the house. She'd give up the life she loved to care for a man she no longer did."
There was nothing in Peter's recitation that contradicted what Elizabeth had told him. Even down to the fact that Elizabeth no longer loved him. But it still angered Neal – not just on Elizabeth's behalf – because Peter was insisting on being a martyr. "So, you planned to just slink off, turn your face to the wall, and die? You never intended on telling anyone who cared about you that you are sick?"
"I don't want to be an obligation to her, to anyone."
"Diana Berrigan."
"What?" Peter was puzzled by his non-sequitur.
"My troubleshooter, your friend and former co-worker. Does she know your wife?"
"Ex-wife, and yes she does. We were close."
"And you don't think she's not going to go see her? To find out what's going on? I know she was shocked at the news you were divorced and she was very worried at how terrible you looked."
"Damn. I hadn't thought about that."
There was one thing Neal had to know. "Do you still love your ex-wife?"
Neal's question felt like a punch in the face. But it was one he should have seen coming. And after everything that Neal had told him, it was a question he couldn't duck. Before Neal could retract it, Peter answered, "I don't know."
That answer seemed to surprise Neal. It surprised him, too. But it was the truth. "For as long as we were married, I was in love with Elizabeth. I loved her with a whole heart and if we were still married, I'd still love her."
"But you're not in love with her now?"
Peter tried to work out the question. "There's a difference between loving and being 'in love' – I think I will always care about her, deeply, profoundly. But if your question is do I have romantic feelings for my ex-wife, then I have to say I really don't think so."
"But you're not sure."
He sighed, feeling like a heel. "It's complex – and not just because El left me. I'm sick and I'm always feeling sorry for myself. I know if I tell El, we'd end up back together and she'd be miserable – although she'd never say a word or let it show. I'd be using her affection for me. And it would be easy to convince myself that my feelings for her are unchanged."
Neal asked another devastating question, "What if you weren't sick? What if your ex-wife knocked on your door and admitted that she'd made a terrible mistake, that she still loves you and wants to be with you? Would you get back together?"
Peter answered without even thinking, "No." His own answer shocked him. "When I signed the divorce papers, I thought I wanted nothing more than to be Elizabeth's husband. I still miss that, but I can't go back."
Neal sat next to him but the distance between them felt immense. "It's all so complicated."
"I can't move in with you, Neal. I can't let you do this."
"Why not?"
"I'd be using you. Just as I'd be using Elizabeth if she knew."
"You wouldn't be using me. I offered, remember? I want to take care of you. It's not like either of us are lacking resources. I'm not signing up for emptying bedpans, you know. When you need, if you need skilled care, you can arrange for it and pay for it yourself. But you shouldn't be alone. You should be with someone who cares for you. Someone who loves you and will make this future endurable."
Peter sucked in his breath, the surge of emotions at Neal's words making him dizzy.
Neal laid a hand over his. "I know it's crazy, I know I'm opening myself up for a universe of pain, but I love you."
"I can't have sex." Peter shook his head and laughed at himself. "Getting ahead of myself there. But it's the truth. I haven't had an erection since … since before the diagnosis."
Neal shrugged. "It's been six months since I've been with someone other than my own hand. Sex isn't a big deal for me right now. And you're sick. You've been having radiation treatments, chemotherapy."
"I know, but there's more to it than that. I only found out I had cancer when I noticed a lump in my groin. It was interfering with … things."
"Did you have surgery?"
Peter nodded. "That's part of the problem – some of the nerves in the area were affected. Things feel weird." He didn't know why he was blurting this out to Neal, but it seemed like he needed to make a full disclosure. "And the scar is pretty ugly."
Neal's hand still rested on his, and his thumb caressed his knuckles. That gesture felt as intimate as a kiss.
"Sex was good between us, and at the risk of resurrecting a painful old ghost, I think it overshadowed something that was a lot more important."
Peter agreed. "The relationship I was too afraid to admit I wanted."
"You weren't the only one who was afraid to take the next step."
"Huh?"
Neal sighed. "I never said anything about how I felt, either. I just let us coast along. You said you were New York-bound, so I suggested we get a place together."
"You were planning on traveling, you wanted a home base."
"Which could have been anywhere in the world. The truth was, I desperately wanted to be near you without letting you know how I felt. I was scared, too. You weren't anyone's idea of a significant other."
Despite being profoundly shaken by Neal's disclosure, Peter laughed. "I was a slut."
Neal countered with "Man-whore."
"Not denying it."
"And I thought I'd be in for some major heartache if I said anything. I really had no clue that you weren't having sex with any other guys."
"I don't know if I wouldn't have run for the hills if I knew how you felt. And I know that's a complete contradiction – I was jealous, worried about who you were hooking up with when you were traveling, and I was terrified that you didn't really care about me. But I was still scared."
"You wanted to be successful. You had a future you worked hard for and you didn't want to ruin it. It was the eighties and no one was out of the closet on Wall Street. It might have been worse for you if you were outed as bisexual."
Peter still had a hard time believing that Neal had forgiven him. "Why are you so understanding? Why don't you hate me?"
Neal let go of his hand and Peter shivered. "I did, for a while. I hated you for lying to me that last day. I hated you for your cowardice. But I couldn't forget that until that moment, you never lied to me, you never made any promises, you never pretended to be anything but who you were. Maybe if I'd said something, you wouldn't have felt like you needed to make that break. What if I said, let's go out on our own. Let's make a name for ourselves. What might have happened then? For twenty-five years I've lived with those questions. And while I don't regret the path my own life has taken, I don't want to let go of the chance to have a future with you."
"That future might be very brief, Neal."
"I know, and that's a risk that I'm willing to take."
Peter didn't know what to say. To have this dream within reach was almost more than he could bear.
And then his stomach rumbled. Loudly.
"Are you all right?" Neal gave him a worried look, remembering what happened last night.
"Actually, I think I'm hungry." Peter laughed in amazement.
"Now, can I make breakfast for you?"
"I think I'd like that."
"Moz, I really appreciate this." Diana let her boss – and for today, her babysitter – into her townhouse.
"You don't need to thank me. Always glad to watch out for my namesake."
Diana ground her teeth and stopped herself from reminding him that it was pure coincidence that Moz and her son had the same given name. She'd given birth a year before she'd even met Theodore Winters.
"Now where is my little bambino?"
Diana took a deep breath and prayed for patience. "Theo's in his playroom, but before – " She was about to start giving him a list of instructions, but Moz ignored her and headed upstairs with a bag that was probably filled with all sorts of nonsense. After the last time he'd watched her son, she found copies of "A Child's Garden of Global Conspiracy Theories" and "Going Off the Grid – An Early Learner's Coloring Book" tucked in Theo's bookcase.
Her little boy looked up from the elaborate game he was playing with his stuffed animals and smiled. "Mothie!" He ran over and hugged Moz, babbling about visitin' and doggies and candy.
"Visitin'?"
Trust her son to be so indiscreet. "We stopped by to see a friend. She has a dog. Theo was … smitten."
"Every boy should have a dog."
Of course, that set Theo off. "Doggie! Doggie! Can I have a doggie, Momma?"
Diana winced; trust Moz to bring chaos into her household. "Sweetie, you know we can't have a doggie right now. Not until you're a little older."
Theo pouted. "But …"
"Why not now?" Moz was intent on ruining her peace of mind.
"Because a p-u-p-p-y needs a lot of care and attention."
Moz frowned, but didn't make any further comments on the canine-less state of her household. Instead, he picked Theo up and started asking him all sorts of questions about his favorite toys.
"If I can have your attention for a few minutes."
Moz turned and gave her the stink-eye. "I'm listening."
"I'll be back by three. You can go out for a walk, but don't let him out of your sight. Theo's become a runner. His lunch is in the fridge – he generally eats well, but if he's fussy, don't force the issue. You can help yourself to anything in the house, except my wine or liquor."
"What about the pot in the back of the freezer?"
Diana wanted to tear her hair out. "There is no pot in the back of the freezer. There is no pot anywhere in my home! You are here to look after my child, not to get drunk or stoned."
Moz made a rude noise that she was sure she'd be hearing from Theo when she got home. "That I can do anytime. Having fun with this little gentleman will be the highlight of my week."
She didn't know why she let him get to her. She knew that he was – at least with children – utterly and completely trustworthy.
"If I may ask, what is the errand that takes you from this happy home?"
"I need to check up on an old friend, someone I'm worried about."
Moz nodded. "Then you better get going. We have things to do." He made a funny face at Theo, who giggled and made his own face back.
Satisfied that her precious son was in good hands, Diana left. It was a nice day and the walk from the Upper East Side to Columbus Circle took about a half-hour. She used the time to consider her conversation with Peter. Up until this past year, they'd been very close. Peter had been her sounding board and confidant, but the obligations of a new job and a growing toddler had loosened those bonds.
But those bonds were still strong, strong enough for her to get to the root of a very obvious problem.
When she got to the address that Elizabeth had provided, she double-checked it. This tall glass pillar was not a place where she could envision Peter Burke living. He might have become wealthy working on Wall Street, but he was still beer-drinking, dog-walking, sports-loving ordinary-guy Peter.
"Can I help you?" The red-coated doorman gave her a slightly suspicious look. She wished she still had a badge and gun on her hip.
"I'm looking for Peter Burke, can you tell me if he's home?" She hoped this wasn't the sort of building that refused to acknowledge residents. Apparently it wasn't. The doorman picked up a phone from a small console by the entrance, pressed a number and waited for a few moments before returning.
"Mr. Burke isn't accepting visitors at the moment."
Since Diana didn't see the man's lips move when he was on the phone, she had to figure that Peter wasn't home. So much for her well-planned ambush. And there was no point in leaving a message here, she'd call him at his office tomorrow and if his admin tried to block her, she'd chop him up and feed him to some subway rats.
As she turned to leave, she noticed the doorman's eyes widen and he went into the equivalent of parade rest. Diana couldn't help but follow his gaze.
She smiled; there was Peter – and in the harsh morning light, he was looking a hell of a lot better that he had on Wednesday. He didn't notice her, however. Maybe because he was talking with another man.
Someone she knew quite well. Her boss, Neal Caffrey.
Neal saw her first, and he smiled that familiar grin – the one she'd seen him give reluctant clients just before they handed over control of their fortunes. Then Peter noticed her, and he smiled, too. His grin, though, was full of warmth and sincerity.
"Diana! What a lovely coincidence." Peter reached out and hugged her. "What brings you to the Upper West Side?"
Neal stood there, hands in his pockets, that fake smile still plastered on his lips. "Yes, Diana – I'm curious, too. This isn't your usual stomping grounds. And where's Theo?"
"Theo's at home, with a sitter." There was no way she was going to tell Neal that Moz was watching her son. "And I'm here to talk with Peter."
"Me?" Peter seemed surprised. "I'd asked my admin to get back in touch with you – to set up a meeting with …" He looked over to her boss and she wasn't sure, but there might have been a light flush climbing his cheeks. "Neal."
Diana blinked, worried for her friend and concerned about what her employer was getting up to. "What's going on here?"
Peter looked over at Neal, as if he was seeking some guidance. Neal's smile softened and Diana thought he looked besotted. But when he answered her question, there was a thread of steel in his tone. "That's really none of your concern."
"Actually, Neal, it is. You're a principal owner of a company that's looking to do business with Peter's firm. And here it is, Sunday morning and you're heading back to Peter's apartment. This doesn't look particularly kosher."
Neal replied with unaccustomed aggressiveness, "Maybe we're just coming from church."
"You're an avowed atheist and Peter's a lapsed Catholic. So I repeat, what's going on?"
Peter stepped between them, as if he thought they might come to blows. "Guys, let's not do this here, okay?"
Diana realized that they had a very avid audience – the doorman.
Neal gave a terse nod. "Shall we go up?"
Peter led them inside, to a bank of elevators that required key-card access. For some reason, Neal grinned when Peter pressed the button for the twenty-first floor. Diana thought it was amusing that Peter now lived on the same floor as their old offices at the FBI, but didn't know why Neal would share that amusement.
Peter's apartment was distinctly un-Peter-like. Too much gloss and black leather. But she wasn't here to critique her friend's terrible design aesthetic. "Now, will one of you please tell me what's going on?"
Neal started to say something, but Peter held up a hand, cutting him off. "Neal and I knew each other from our time at Harvard."
"Knew each other? How well?"
This time, Neal answered. "We shared a house for three years."
"And yet, you did a very good job of pretending that you'd never met before." She glared at Neal. "You pumped me for information. Some pretty personal stuff."
Peter tried to intervene. "Don't be angry at him. If I'd known you were working for Neal, I'd have done the same thing."
"I don't understand." She looked from Peter to Neal and back to Peter again.
Peter explained, "We didn't part as friends. I did something pretty shitty and we hadn't seen each other in twenty-five years. I was shocked when you showed up with Neal at my offices last week, and when Neal played it cool, I figured it was best to do the same. But we've had the chance to clear the air. To mend fences."
Diana wasn't ready to be mollified and she took her anger out on Neal. "You shouldn't have done that to me – you shouldn't have played me like that."
Neal's expression turned hard, so hard that the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. "My relationship with Peter Burke is none of your business. The questions I asked were legitimately related to my concerns about his representation of Sundance Equity. You volunteered the information about Peter's divorce, about his relationship with his wife."
Diana stepped back, as if she'd been slapped. Neal was absolutely correct. "I should have known better – I've seen you work people. You're a social engineer without equal, and I don't know why I thought I'd be exempt from your – your deviousness."
Neal smirked, his expression cold and nasty. "Diana, if you don't like working for me, you are free to pursue other alternatives."
Peter intervened, "Neal – don't be like that. Diana's an old friend and she's looking out for me."
Neal responded to Peter, but he continued to look at her with that same derisive expression. "Diana doesn't need you to stick up for her. She's a badass without equal – and if you know her as well as you think you do, you know that she can take just what she dishes out." He waited for a few moments, then asked, "Well, Diana?"
"Peter's right – I am looking out for him. But I'm also looking out for you. This – this relationship is going to make things complicated."
Neal asked, "Why?"
"Ever hear of conflict of interest rules?"
"Peter's a friend, an old school tie. You know the game – Wall Street would fall apart without them."
"Sundance is a small firm with a huge footprint. Shepard and Franklin is another small firm with an outsized reputation. A perfect scenario for publicity-hungry regulators and Assistant U.S. Attorneys looking to get their names in the paper. If there's something going on between you two, it probably would be best if Sundance looked elsewhere for a financial advisor."
Neal asked a reasonable question in a rather unreasonable tone, "Why do you think there's 'something going on' between us? We're old college friends who've reconciled their differences."
She snapped back, "Because you're gay and Peter's bisexual and even if you've just 'reconciled your differences' I can see the hearts and flowers around you like you're posing for a Valentine's Day card."
Neal gaped at her. "You know Peter's bi?" He then turned to Peter with a very hurt expression. "You told her?"
Some of the anger she felt about Neal's ulterior motives for questioning her last week was erased by the pain in that question. "I was having a hard time at the office. I sort of came out in the middle of a big meeting."
"I thought the FBI had a policy about that."
Diana responded, "Don't Ask/Don't Tell? That was the military."
"I know that – I thought the FBI didn't ask and didn't care. The 1992 Consent Decree."
"You know about that?"
"I had reason to keep track of such things." Neal kept a careful gaze on her. "So, why did Peter tell you he was bi?"
"After I blurted out that I had a girlfriend, I spent the next week worrying that I was going to be fired or transferred and Peter realized what I was thinking. He told me that things were different than when he'd joined, that there was no need to stay in the closet if I didn't want to. No one was going to care."
Peter finally contributed to the conversation. "Diana didn't believe me. That's why I told her."
There was a lot more to it than that, but Neal seemed to accept the explanation. "If you really think that we're going to run into problems, then we'll back away from Shepard and Franklin."
Diana watched as Peter went over to Neal and put a hand on his shoulder. "You won't have to. It's not like I'm going to be overseeing the work, anyway."
Neal nodded, understanding something that Diana had no clue about.
"Peter? Will you please tell me what's going on?"
Peter scrubbed his face and Diana was again struck by how ill he looked. Without the padding and tailoring of a suit or the bulk of a jacket, the weight loss was way too evident. And from the worried expression on Neal's face, there seemed to be something very wrong.
Neal leaned into Peter's space and gave him a concerned look. Peter shook his head. Diana couldn't help but feel a touch of envy. These two had been apart for a quarter-century and yet they seemed to have the whole silent communication thing down pat. She'd never had that, not even with Christie.
Peter sat down, Neal sat next to him – close but not touching – and rather than being the last one standing, Diana sat down across from them. She figured she had one more card to play. "I was in Brooklyn yesterday. I stopped by and saw Elizabeth."
Peter and Neal exchanged looks again, and for some reason Neal looked just a little smug – as if she'd just proved him right.
Peter sighed and asked, "And what did my ex-wife have to say?"
"She's angry at you. But she's worried, too."
"I know."
"I feel like a broken record, Peter, but can you please tell me what's wrong?"
Neal touched Peter's hand and Peter clasped Neal's fingers, then sat up a little straighter. "I have cancer. Neal knows, but he found out by accident. Other than the people at work who need to know, you're the first person I've actually told."
Shocked, the only thing Diana could say was, "That's a rather dubious honor."
"One I'd rather not have had to bestow."
Diana ached to ask for details, but there was something in Peter's posture that made her feel like he was at the end of his rope. "I'm guessing that you don't want me to say anything to Elizabeth."
"No, please don't. That's something I need to do myself. I need to make things right."
"Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Other than be a pain in the ass to this guy –" He nodded in Neal's direction, and Neal ducked his head but seemed to smile with a sort of quiet delight, "no. Not right now."
To her surprise, Neal spoke. "Don't be a stranger. Peter's going to need his friends. I don't know if you're the type who gets weirded out by sickness – and that's not something you can control – but stay in touch with him. Send funny cat pictures and bad jokes or videos of Theo doing something silly, if that's all you can manage, but as much as you can, stay a part of his life. That's important."
Diana felt like she was about to cry and maybe she looked like that, too, because Peter came over and hugged her. "Can't promise that it'll be fine, but I'll do my best to make it that way."
After Diana left, Peter felt a strange sort of tension radiating from Neal. He was tired, feeling slightly nauseous, but he couldn't ignore it. "What's the matter?"
Neal gave him a startled look. "Nothing. Why do you ask?"
"You seem a little upset."
"I do?"
Despite the passage of years, Peter hadn't forgotten how good Neal was at deflecting. "Come on, you seem upset. What's going on?"
Neal sighed. "Just worried. About you. About Diana."
"You were a little hard on her. Not that she can't take it."
"I don't like being the bad guy."
"I actually thought it was kind of cute, you going all badass." Peter grinned at the flush that stole across Neal's cheeks. "I kind of liked you being so protective, even if it wasn't necessary."
"This is very new." Neal made a gesture that encompassed the two of them. "It feels fragile and I don't want anything to happen to it."
"Diana was looking out for both of us."
"She was looking out for you. I might sign her paycheck, but she doesn't really quite trust me. She sees me as a shark in a good suit, not a lot of substance and less morals."
"She sees what you show her. Somehow I don't think you've really let your guard down around her, and she's still too much of an FBI agent to trust easily."
"It's ironic, but I think she trusts my partner a hell of a lot more."
"Theo Winters?" Peter wanted to know more about the man who'd been a fixture in Neal's life from almost the time that they'd parted.
"Mozzie."
"He's a little different."
"And then some. I'm surprised you haven't had a workup done on him. On both of us."
Peter figured that lying at this stage would be a bad idea. "Actually, I did get a report on you. But we couldn't find much on your partner."
Neal chuckled. "Your research team is good – they didn't trigger any of the alerts I've set up."
"My staff has some unusual resources."
"I'm curious, now. What scandalous information did they find?"
Pleased that Neal wasn't upset at his digging, Peter relaxed. "Nothing scandalous at all."
"Then you couldn't have dug very deep."
"Or maybe you have a different idea of what constitutes scandalous behavior."
Neal didn't answer, but looked at him with one skeptical eyebrow raised.
"I know you've hired 'escorts', if that's what you're getting at."
"Yeah." Neal shrugged diffidently. "I haven't had much luck with long-term relationships and sometimes I get lonely. It was just easier to pay for a night's company than deal with the inevitable failure."
Peter felt something shift in his perception of Neal. "Did I do this to you?"
"Do what?"
"Make you …" Peter struggled to find the words.
"Hire prostitutes? You might be responsible for a lot of things, but that's not one of them." Neal's tone was flippant.
"No – not that. Make you so certain that any relationship would fail."
Neal rested his chin on his hand, the mocking twist to his lips softened. "Honestly, yeah."
"I'm so sorry. I know I already said that, but I am." The shame eviscerated him.
"It's your fault, but not the way you think."
"What do you mean?"
Neal smiled, a sad little twist to his lips. "Those relationships failed because I kept looking for you, kept wanting you. And the older I got, the more I realized that since I couldn't have who I really wanted, there was no point in deluding myself into believing I'd be able to settle for something else."
"Neal – " He felt like his heart was breaking.
"Peter, it's okay. Really." Neal touched his cheek, the caress almost too fleeting.
The drama with Diana, and now with Neal, was exhausting – and worse, it seemed to have triggered his nausea. "I think I need to lie down."
Neal nodded. "Do you want to get into bed?"
"No – actually the couch is a lot more comfortable than my bed."
"Okay. Maybe you want to get into something more comfortable?"
Peter nodded. "Probably should take a pill, too. Before I really need it." He got up and retrieved the bottle from his jacket pocket. Hating to sound needy, but unable to stop himself, he asked, "Would you stay for a while? Until I fall asleep?"
Neal smiled softly. "I have no plans to go anywhere."
Peter felt like he'd just been given a gift of immeasurable worth. "Thank you."
"Nice hours you're keeping," Moz commented as Neal helped himself to one of the fresh bagels that were delivered every day. "Glad one of us is interested in getting some work done."
"Your snark isn't appreciated this morning." Neal prepped the office espresso machine with a little more force than necessary.
"You okay?"
Neal shrugged, he really didn't want to talk about his weekend with anyone, least of all his too-perceptive business partner. "Had a rough weekend."
"So you decided to sleep in?"
Neal shrugged again and concentrated on spreading just the right amount of cream cheese on the bagel. "I had something I needed to take care of this morning."
"Something more important than the meeting with the Pedersons?"
Neal winced. "Sorry, I forgot. How did it go?"
Moz rocked back on his heels and grinned. "Had the old man eating out of my hand. It was probably better that you weren't there. We seem to have developed a nice bond." Moz rubbed his shiny pate. "I think he likes me better. You're too – shall we say – follicularly blessed."
Neal remembered that the old man, the patriarch of the clan, was as hairless as a newborn babe. Except for a rather spectacular set of eyebrows. "So, are we a go?"
"Yup. He's going to convince the family that Sundance is the key to reviving their fortunes. They just want to meet the entire team. Are we good with Shepard and Franklin? Even though Peter Burke went AWOL in the middle of the meeting?"
Neal felt the beginnings of a flop sweat form at the base of his spine. He hated lying, especially to Moz. And then he rationalized, it really wasn't lying. Just the omission of some not-really-relevant facts. "I think we're good with them. You liked Landon Shepard and Diana trusts Burke. Have they sent over an engagement letter?"
"Yup, read it, reviewed it, sent it back and told them to cut the hourly rates by twenty percent and promised a two-point bonus if the deal closes in twenty days."
"Do you think they'll agree?"
"Already got word back from Landon. She's eager to get to work, we're just waiting on your signature."
"Okay." The espresso machine finished its job and Neal took his cup and his bagel back to his office, where his admin was waiting with the engagement letter. Rather than just signing it, Neal took the time to read it through. He noted that Peter had been listed as the client partner, but work would be performed by associates and other members of the firm and subject to review by any of the other Shepard and Franklin partners. Which was only right, the deal the firm had with Pratt had never sat well with him, for reasons that now seemed obvious.
Neal finished his breakfast and signed the paperwork.
Then he called Peter. "Hey."
"How come your number's in my phone?"
Neal chuckled. "I put it there last night."
"But my phone is fingerprint protected."
"You were sound asleep. I just kept trying fingers until it unlocked."
Diana's right, you are devious."
"Is that a problem?" Neal couldn't stop smiling. This banter felt so damn natural.
"Not in the least. I'll have to try that trick on your phone some time."
"No need, I've already put your data in it."
"Devious, Neal. Very devious."
He changed the subject. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired. Bored. Like I should be in the office, but I know if I was there, I'd barely be able to keep my eyes open."
"Did you eat?"
"No."
Neal sighed. "You need to eat."
"I know, just don't want to start throwing up again."
"What about some fresh fruit?" Neal felt a little ridiculous mother-henning Peter, but he was worried.
Peter didn't answer right away. "You know, some watermelon would be good. If I had the energy, I'd go get some."
"No need. I've got a delivery service. Just clear it with your doorman."
"You don't have to order food for me. I can do that myself."
"Then why haven't you?"
Neal heard the heavy sigh. "Because I've been lazy and feeling sorry for myself."
"Then let me take care of this for you. You'll have fresh fruit and some other stuff within the hour."
"Okay. Thanks."
Neal hated how defeated Peter sounded. "I know I'm being pushy."
"You are. But I appreciate it."
"So, what are you going to do with the rest of your day?"
"Well, other than wait for a delivery, not much. Don't really have the energy. Maybe if I had a dog, I'd take it for a walk. But no dog."
Neal was shocked at the longing in Peter's voice.
Then Peter laughed. "Last time I took a walk by myself, my whole world changed."
"Huh?"
"I ran into an old friend."
Neal smiled, suddenly understanding. "Maybe you should just stay in, then. Your couch is surprisingly comfortable."
"I know I already said it, but thanks for staying last night."
"I – " Early this morning, Neal had brushed off Peter's appreciation with a quip, but this time he couldn't. "I didn't want to leave you."
"It was nice waking up with you there, again."
"I liked it, too." He'd spent all day Sunday with Peter, watching him watch an assortment of football and hockey games, watching him doze, making him dinner from the meager contents of his fridge, and watching him doze some more. He hadn't minded. This time with Peter, after so many years apart, was something rare and precious. Peter had fallen into a deep sleep around eight and resisted Neal's attempts to get him into bed. The couch was broad, and Neal grabbed a blanket and a pillow from a bedroom before settling down next to Peter. Despite the strangeness of the situation, Neal fell asleep once Peter draped an arm over his waist and pulled him close. It was strange, but at the same time, completely natural.
The morning sun had poured through into the apartment with all the subtly of a fist to the face, but Neal woke to find Peter gazing at him, his eyes filled with so much emotion. But they didn't have the time to explore their feelings. It was a little before seven and Peter had to be across town, at Sloan Kettering, for his radiation treatment within the hour.
Despite the fact that he'd slept in his clothes, Neal insisted on accompanying him. He wanted – no, he needed – to understand what Peter was going through. But he was doomed to disappointment. Peter disappeared for about ten minutes, and as he'd explained – he basically stripped to the skin, got onto a table and was zapped for about three seconds. The techs spent more time lining up the little tattoos he'd been marked with than anything else.
"What are you doing?" Peter interrupted his musings.
"Just signed the engagement letter with Shepard and Franklin. Moz did some negotiating and it's fine."
"Thanks."
Over the connection, Neal heard the unmistakable sound of Peter yawning. "Sounds like someone needs a nap."
"You know, that sounds like a good idea."
"Call me when you get up, okay?"
" 'kay." Peter yawned again and Neal resisted the urge to yawn, too. "Talk to you later."
Neal reluctantly ended the call and placed the order for Peter's food. He sat at his desk, staring at nothing. He was still having trouble comprehending how, in three days, his life had become both wonderful and terrible.
"Boss?"
Neal looked up; Diana was hovering in the doorway. From the expression on her face, she seemed uncertain of her welcome. He supposed that he needed to make things right with her. "Come in." Then Neal changed his mind. "Actually, do you feel like going for a walk?"
"A walk?"
"Yeah. I could use some fresh air." He put on his jacket, not waiting for Diana to agree to his request.
"Um, sure."
Neal gestured for her to precede him and while she retrieved her own jacket, he handed the engagement letter back to his admin and told her that he'd be back in an hour or so.
Diana returned and neither of them said anything during the trip down to the street. A little after noon, the lunch crowd was picking up, making it difficult to talk. Neal headed towards Bowling Green. The afternoon sunshine was bright and this would be a good place to talk.
Tags:
- character: clinton jones,
- character: david siegel,
- character: diana berrigan,
- character: elizabeth burke,
- character: landon shepherd,
- character: matthew keller,
- character: mozzie,
- character: neal caffrey,
- character: peter burke,
- character: sara ellis,
- character: theo berrigan,
- genre: alternative universe,
- genre: angst,
- genre: comfort porn,
- genre: domesticity,
- genre: emotional trauma,
- kink: cuddling,
- kink: kissing,
- pairing: neal/keller,
- pairing: peter/elizabeth,
- pairing: peter/neal,
- type: fan fiction,
- type: longfic,
- wc verse: it must be now,
- white collar,
- written for: wcbb,
- year: 2015
