White Collar Fic - Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot

[elrhiarhodan]

Title: Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot
Author: elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke, (P/E/N), Reese Hughes, Diana Berrigan, Clinton Jones, Bancroft, the return of The Army Brats (Stephen, mention of Emily and Matthew)
Spoilers: None, A/U from 2.09 forward
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~6000
Summary: A series of vignettes filling in the events at the White Collar office after Peter takes over from Hughes and Neal rejoins the Bureau following his stint as an agent-in-training at Quantico. It isn’t long before Neal’s chickens come home to roost, in a good way.

For the first parts of this story, please read Between the Darkness and the Dawn, and then My Charade (is the event of the season).



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Written as a birthday present for greyminerva, whose been wanting more Neal and the Brats. I am sorry this is a little late.

Many thanks to rabidchild67 for the quick beta. Feedback is naturally appreciated.

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Thursday, November 29th

Reese Hughes stood on the balcony and looked out over the collected mass of agents and administrative personnel he called together for this late day meeting. Peter stood at his right and a few steps back and behind him. He had thought long and hard about how to make this announcement and decided that doing it in the light of day, with Peter at his side, would be the best approach. Other administrators would have just sent out an email memo at five o’clock with information about the change in management, but that wasn’t his style. The people in this office were as close as family these days and they deserved better than that.

“Jones, Berrigan – you’re late.” He barked as Peter’s two senior agents walked in; they looked like they’d been on stake-out duty all day. Jones, particularly, had that glassy-eyed look of a man who just spent too many hours in the dark. They shed their coats and made their way down to the front of the crowd.

Hughes took a moment to compose his thoughts. “There have been rumors flying around about my retirement…” He let the muttering from the staff rise and fall. “For the past decade.” That got a few laughs. “I’m well past my sell-by date and the Director has put her foot down. And I’m not talking about the one in D.C.” That got a few more laughs. He held out a hand and the room quieted.

“Truthfully, there comes a time when every administrator has to step away and allow what he has built to stand on its own.”

He held out an arm, gesturing Peter to come forward. “One of the reasons why this division has been so successful – a model for others across the country – is this man.” There was a burst of applause and out of the corner of his eye he could see that Burke was blushing. “As you all know, Peter’s been with this division for almost two decades and has maintained a very impressive conviction rate.” He didn’t want to give the exact number. Despite Peter’s best efforts, it had slipped from a high of ninety-four percent to just above ninety one percent since Caffrey left, but was still one of the best in the Bureau.

“And more importantly, Peter has shown himself to be a proven leader with the makings of an excellent administrator.” That earned some hoots from the staff. Everyone knew how much Burke hated paperwork.

“But the point is that it’s time for Peter to take charge and run this department. And time for me to turn in the suspenders for one of those Hawaiian shirts my wife keeps buying me.” His wife, Ellen, popped out of his office with just one of those damn things and he made a huge production of putting it on, to the hoots and hollers of everyone.

He turned back to his staff – no, not his staff anymore – Peter’s. “Technically, the effective date for my retirement is December 31st and I’m not really one for the long goodbyes, but the Director tells me that if I want to go, I have to go now, otherwise I can’t leave at all. Tomorrow will be my last day on the job.”

Ellen leaned in and put her hand over his mouth. “Don’t listen to him, kids. We’ve got a vacation planned with the grandchildren over Christmas and I’ve persuaded Reese to take off a month early.”

He gently pushed her hand away and kissed the back of it, the beloved scent of her skin and Chanel No. 5 filling his nose. “Which is exactly what I said!”

There was more laughter and he pulled Peter forward, enjoying this moment – it was never going to come again.

Peter rubbed a hand over his mouth and cleared his throat. “A few months ago when Reese told me he was retiring, my first thought was … well - something along the lines of ‘NO YOU CAN’T GO!’ and then he told me that I was being tapped to take over and then I thought, ‘NO YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!”

Reese ducked his head and smiled - Peter wasn’t exaggerating.

“Honestly, I’m still in a state of shock. I’ve had the honor of working with Reese – Agent Hughes - for almost as long as I’ve been in White Collar, and the thought of not having him here, at my back, is, well - scary.” Peter swallowed and looked like he was about to cry. “Sorry …”

Reese stepped forward. “Peter, thank you.” He looked out onto the department he built - a strong, cohesive unit. “Thank you - everyone. Thank you.” The distance between them was too far and he went down into the bullpen, shaking everyone’s hand. There was going to be an “official” retirement party with the bosses when he got back from the Caribbean, but it was this moment he was going to remember the most.

---

Friday, November 30th

I am ready for this. I am ready for this. Peter turned the key over in his hand and then put it on his key ring. It was a little before five, and Hughes was gone – he had finished the last of his paperwork, turned in his badge, done his exit interview and stopped by for a final farewell. And to give him the key to his office.

The bullpen was quiet – it was the beginning of the holiday shopping season and those who could had already taken off. Diana and Clinton were still at work.

Good – it would make things easier. He pinged Diana and told her not to leave until he spoke with her. He sent another message to Clinton, asking him to come up to his office.

Jones came bounding up the stairs and knocked on his doorframe – a puzzled expression on his face. “You wanted to see me?”

“Close the door and have a seat.”

The puzzled expression on his agent’s face became one of trepidation.

“Oh, don’t look so nervous.”

“Sorry Peter – you usually don’t call me into your office like this. I’ve got to wonder what the problem is.”

Peter smiled. “No problem – none whatsoever. At least I don’t think so. I just didn’t want to call attention to this meeting. You’ve been with me – with White Collar for almost a decade, right?”

“Yeah – it’s kind of hard to believe.”

“You had yourself transferred in - you wanted to be on my task force.”

“I had a set of brass ones back then.” Jones hid a smile.

“You still do.” Peter didn’t bother to hide his grin. “And it looks like growing back that goatee is going to pay off for you – and you don’t even have to plot my assassination.”

Clinton chuckled. Colleagues of a certain age had been ribbing him about the return of the facial hair for the last six months. Then he realized just what Peter was saying. He blinked.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“Peter – I’m…”

“The work that you’ve done the past year, particularly on the Emerson National Bank fraud case, and the leadership skills you demonstrated have made it clear that it’s time for you to step up.” Peter heard the echoes of Hughes’ voice. He had given him the same talk after he had first captured Neal Caffrey so many years ago.

“I don’t know what to say.”

Peter had had a similar shell-shocked reaction when Reese had talked to him. “You know that the Justice Department has been sniffing around.”

Clinton shrugged. “Yeah – they’ve reached out. Tested the waters.”

“I don’t want to lose you, Clinton. You’re too good an agent, too much of an asset for this department – and it’s time.”

“To get out of the surveillance van?”

There was so much hope on his agent’s face, and he almost hated to crush it. Almost. “Well, not entirely. But now you can spend time here, at your desk, handling paperwork.” Peter got serious. “Unless you’d rather transfer to the DoJ and put that Harvard Law degree to use.”

“Not on your life!” Clinton grinned.

They talked for a few more moments – mostly practicalities. “I need to talk with Diana – but can you hang around for a bit? There’s one more thing we’ll need to discuss, and it will be easier with the two of you here.”

“Sure thing, Peter.” Jones bounded down the stairs and sent Diana up.

“What’s up, boss?” Typical Diana Berrigan insouciance.

“You know things are going to change, with Hughes’ retirement?”

“Of course – it’s only natural. I expect that you’ll be promoting a few people – Jones, Henderson, Montoya. Me.”

This was what he appreciated about Diana – she never bothered to mince words. And he would do her the favor of returning her candor. “I’m not promoting you – not just yet.”

Diana’s posture shifted – a small cue to her disappointment. He expected that. “There are a few reasons. Henderson and Montoya both have led teams and Jones has built and run a task force. I don’t have enough slots to promote all of you.”

“And I have the least experience.” There was a little bitterness there. Diana had given up a stellar opportunity half a decade ago to come back and help him out. She’d been patient and had every right to expect a promotion.

“Yes – when it comes to the criteria that I need to apply.”

She sighed. “This is the Federal Government – that’s to be expected.”

“But it is unfair. To you – and to me.”

“What are you saying, Peter?”

“If I want to promote you – I have to give you the chance.” He handed her a thick folder. “These are a series of international money laundering cases that Interpol thinks are related, and are originally funded out of the U.S. They’ve kicked them over to White Collar to develop. I want you to build a task force, with a budget and staff, and run the investigation. This will be your baby – start to finish.”

It was a pleasure to see the change in Diana. He knew that she’d wanted an opportunity like this for a few years.

“I won’t let you down, boss.”

“Diana – there are no guarantees, you know.”

She grinned. “Of course – this is the Federal Government.” She got up. “I’m going to go get started.”

“Not quite yet, Di. There’s one more thing.” Peter went out and called for Jones to join them.

He closed the door behind them. “I’ve got some news for the whole team, but I wanted to give you a heads up first.”

“Boss?” Diana looked from Clinton to him and back again.

Peter bit his lip to keep from grinning like a fool, and then thought – what the hell. “Neal’s coming back. He starts on Monday.”

The silence from his senior staff was thunderous – and disheartening. “What – aren’t you glad he’s going to be back here?”

Diana spoke first. “What did he do? I really thought he’d stay straight.”

“Yeah – I did too.” Clinton chimed in.

“Wait - what do you mean?” Peter was confused.

“Neal was arrested again – and you got him a deal with the tracking anklet, right?” Clinton shook his head in disappointment.

“No! Far from it. Neal isn’t in trouble – this isn’t a new deal for him.”

Diana recovered first. “Then you mean he’s coming back as an employee?”

Peter just smiled. “A full time, full fledged, employee – a technical analyst, Level IV. He’s ostensibly taking charge of that group here, but he’ll be working ops too.”

It was Clinton and Diana’s turn to be confused, and Clinton didn’t hesitate to voice his concern. “Huh? How is that possible? Neal – in charge of a staff? Here, at the FBI?”

Peter leaned back in his chair, the grin on his face going from ear to ear. “Neal did the full twenty weeks at Quantico.”

“Neal’s an agent? He can’t be.”

“No – he’s not. He did everything but graduate. The felony record still stands against him, but he has partisans. Friends that I wasn’t aware of.”

“Not Kramer, surely.”

“No, Bancroft. He called in a lifetime’s worth of favors.”

Diana and Clinton spoke at the same time. “So he wasn’t in an ashram in India?”

“Nope.”

It was Diana who figured it out. “That means he was at Quantico when we were.”

“He most certainly was.” Peter was enjoying himself now.

“Then why didn’t he come say hello?” Clinton sounded hurt.

“It was complicated – but basically Neal didn’t want anyone to know, in case he didn’t make it through. I didn’t find out he was there until last month.”

“You know – I think I saw him.” Clinton shook his head in puzzlement. “Not at the lecture, but afterwards – when I met you with the ATV at the end of the Yellow Brick Road. There was a guy – he looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. He stopped in front of the final combat crawl, looked at it and just continued running. He was wearing a hat, I couldn’t see his face, but now that you say Caffrey was there, I’d swear it was him.”

Peter had forgotten about the other runner on the trail – it very well could have been Neal. “You can ask him when you see him.”

“Neal, coming back. I can’t believe it.” Diana was grinning too. “And he’s going to have a staff.”

“He’ll be insufferable.” There was no heat in those words.

Peter lost some of the grin. “There’s something else you need to know.”

His agents picked up on the serious note in his voice. Peter toyed with a pencil and dropped it. He hated people who fidgeted instead of getting to the point. “Elizabeth and I – well – we and Neal…” Peter was sure he was turning bright red. “We thought you two should know, since you’re – well…” He looked helplessly at them.

Clinton saved them all some embarrassment. “The three of you finally hooked up.”

Diana added, “It’s about damn time.”

Peter blinked. “Why aren’t either of you shocked or surprised?”

“Come on, Peter. Neal’s been in love with you for years. And it’s not like you haven’t felt the same way.” Clinton explained in pragmatic tones.

He scrubbed at his eyes and laughed. “So – this won’t be a problem?”

Clinton and Diana looked at each other and replied as one. “Nope.”


Monday, December 3rd

“Settle down, people. Settle down.” The conference room was packed today, with both his team – his former team – and the rest of the agents that made up the White Collar division. The rest of the staff was in another meeting.

“First of all, good morning, everyone.”

The ‘good morning’ that rumbled back through the room just about set the window panes rattling.

“We’ve got a full agenda this morning, so let’s get some housekeeping out of the way.” Peter announced the promotions for Montoya and Henderson and gave them each a little time on the floor to explain their new briefs. He leaned against the wall and watched these agents, both with over a decade of experience, begin new phases of their careers.

He didn’t want to make too big a production about telling the team about the next promotion – his replacement, but he couldn’t quite help himself.

“A little more than a decade ago, Clinton Jones talked his way onto a new task force I was forming. He had a law degree and an impressive military career, his supervisory agents had only good things to say about the young agent, yet I had limited space and selecting someone with limited field experience was not necessarily in my best interests. But my gut said …”

Peter paused for the laughter, everyone in the room knew about his famous “gut detector.”

“My gut – and my brain said - ‘take a chance.’ That was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. And so, it gives me great pleasure to announce that Clinton Jones is taking over as the senior case agent for this office.”

The conference room exploded with cheers – Jones was not only a good leader, he was genuinely liked by the entire office. Peter smiled as Clinton spoke – he wasn’t going to be making too many changes, at least not a first, and made a few comments about surveillance van duty. Clinton paused, looked at him and Peter gave him a nod. This was his job now. As he watched him field questions and hand out assignments, Peter knew he had made the right choice.

A movement at the front door caught his eye, it was Bancroft. Neal was at his side. They sauntered up the stairs; both so damn pleased with themselves. Peter didn’t say anything. Jones was talking about an ongoing investigation and had to check a case file; only looking up when the room fell silent.

“Peter, Agents – I hope I’m not interrupting anything?” Bancroft entered the conference room, Neal hung back. Peter caught his eye and they actually winked at each other.

Clinton answered for everyone. “No, sir. We’re just going through the active investigations.”

“Then I’ll be brief. Changes have been made – not only to the administration of the White Collar division, but to your support staff as well. White Collar has a new lead analyst – I think you already know him.” Bancroft gestured and Neal came in, hat in hand and a wary smile on his face.

Last night, Neal had confessed that he was getting nervous about coming back - how people would react. Peter had told him he had nothing to worry about, but didn’t mention that he had already told Clinton and Diana. It was amusing to see Neal, who was always so damn sure of himself, worry about his reception.

Diana actually squealed as she rushed to hug him, and the rest of the staff – or at least those who hadn’t transferred in since Neal had left, a year ago October, joined her.

Peter went over to Bancroft. “Thank you, sir.”

“For what?”

“For believing in him.”

Monday, June 21st

Stephen Anderson’s request for a transfer to New York to complete his probationary period was finally granted. Washington might be the epicenter of the Bureau’s universe, but he wanted to work in a city and with people where he didn’t have to hide who and what he was. He had enough of that in the military to last a lifetime.

He’d heard from more than one source that Peter Burke, the newly minted ASAC for the White Collar division, was a man famed for his tolerance.

By the time Stephen finished with the administrative paperwork on Fifteen and was escorted to the White Collar division on the Twenty-First floor, it was after noon. He stood at the doorway, feeling just a little bit like the new kid on his first day of school. An agent with an open and friendly face saw him and came over.

He held out a hand. “Hey, you must be Anderson, the new probie. We were told to expect you. Welcome.”

“Thanks – I was told to report to Agent Berrigan or Agent Jones first before seeing Agent Burke.”

The man smiled. “Diana’s out on assignment, so is Agent Jones. Peter’s out to lunch but he should be back in a few.”

“And you are?”

“Oh! Sorry – I’m Blake. Agent Blake.”

There was a goofiness about the guy that made Stephen feel a lot older, a lot more experienced.

Blake looked around the room and grimaced. “We’re pretty much full up today – in the middle of a reorg. I’ll put you in the conference room until we find a space to get you settled.” He led the way up a short flight of stairs, to a glass enclosed conference room and pulled out a chair facing the windows. “Can I get you a cup of coffee or something?”

Stephen was a little surprised at the request. “Are you a probie too?”

Blake chuckled. “Nope – finished my probationary period a few years ago.”

“Then shouldn’t I be getting you that coffee?”

“You’ll get your fill of getting people coffee soon enough. Just relax.” It was a trivial assertion of authority, but the aura of youth and inexperience evaporated.

Blake left and came back with a cup of coffee and a handful of sweetener and creamer packets. Stephen busied himself with fixing it, took a sip and realized that coffee in FBI offices was going to be terrible, no matter where he went. Hopefully there was a coffee shop within walking distance.

He tried to take Blake’s advice and relax. He shouldn’t be this nervous; he’d gone through doorways expecting IEDs and Taliban fighters on the other side. It wasn’t as if Peter Burke was going to shoot him. He took another sip of the horrendous coffee, concentrating on the oily bitterness instead of his nerves. That helped, just a little bit.

There was a brief rap on the door. It was Blake, and he had two people with him. They were talking.

“No, Neal, you do not get a probie. You’re not an agent. You get analyst trainees. And there are certainly plenty of those, these days.”

“You’re no fun.”

“That’s right. I’m Peter Burke, Special No Fun Agent.”

Blake covered his mouth to hide a smile. “Um, Peter. This is the new probie.” He handed Peter his file.

Stephen stood up.

“Ah – Agent Anderson. Welcome to New York.” Peter held out a hand and he took it. “You look awfully familiar. Have we met?”

“Yes, sir. You gave a lecture at Quantico last May, and you were kind enough to answer a question of mine. About Neal Caffrey.”

Something must of have clicked in Agent Burke’s memory; he got a strangely sheepish expression on his face. Then he smiled. “And this is Neal Caffrey, by the way.” Burke gestured for the other man to come into the conference room.

Stephen didn’t hold out his hand. There was no need. “Hey, Coop.”

The man he knew as Benjamin Cooper stood there, hands in his pockets and a wary smile on his lips. “Stephen. How have you been?”

Agent Burke looked from him back to the man he called “Neal Caffrey” and must have put two and two together. “You were at the Academy together.” It wasn’t a question.

Stephen nodded and “Neal” said, “We were roommates.”

Burke turned from him. “Neal – are you going to have a problem with this?”

Stephen didn’t wait for Neal to answer, he understood just what was going on - Neal Caffrey was the more important piece in this equation. “There won’t be any problems, Sir. Not from me.” He wondered if he was overstepping the line.

Neal looked at him and then back at Agent Burke. “Peter – I think we’ll be fine. But can I have a few minutes with Agent Anderson, just to clear the air?”

Burke nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Neal spoke first. “They didn’t give me a chance to say goodbye.”

“Em and Matthew were worried – they wanted to visit you in the hospital. But I take it that you didn’t have a life-threatening stomach ulcer?”

“No.” Neal shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets. “I sometimes had the feeling you knew who I was.”

He nodded. “I was never really sure, and it seemed so preposterous. You really didn’t look anything like the photo in the materials.”

“Yeah – that was not my best moment.” Neal grimaced. “And thank you – for not saying anything to anyone.”

“I meant what I said. We’re good. But it’s kind of nice to see that I was right.” He had to ask. “You get things settled with your partner? You get back together?”

Neal smiled and Stephen thought he never saw anything quite so beautiful. “Yeah, we did.”

Stephen caught a flash of wonder and joy in Neal’s eyes – he couldn’t bring himself to be jealous.

Neal chuckled. “I figured my chickens would someday come home to roost, but I didn’t thing it would be so soon.” He held out his hand and Stephen took it. Welcome to White Collar. This is a good place to be.”

“So I’ve heard.” Stephen laughed. “It’s going to be weird calling you ‘Neal,’ you know. And I’m going to have a hard time not thinking about all of your less-than-legal-deeds that they poured into us. Can’t believe you sat through a two hour lecture about yourself and your criminal history and didn’t say a word.” Stephen laughed. “But I guess that explains the sudden onset ‘stomach virus’ you had.”

Neal didn’t quite laugh with him. “I bet you’re going to relish telling Emily and Matthew the truth.”

“You know that Matthew’s going to blow a gasket. Maybe I’ll keep this a secret for a while.” The truth was, he liked the idea of being the only one who knew just who Benjamin Cooper really was.

There was a sharp knock on an inner door, and Agent Burke came in – it looked like it was a connection to his office. “Is everything good?” He raised an eyebrow at Neal.

“Yeah, we’re good.” Neal gave him a tight little nod, cast an indecipherable look at Agent Burke and left.

“Agent Burke – umm – I want to give you my personal assurance again that I’ve got no issues with Mr. Caffrey.”

The man smiled at him and Stephen thought the floor fell out from under his feel. “Neal’s …” He sighed, a little exasperated. “Neal’s not the same man I took on as a CI six years ago. And I have to remember that. And I’ll have to remember that you have a different history and frame of reference for him.”

That was all that Agent Burke seemed to want to say about Neal Caffrey. They talked about his duties and responsibilities. There was going to be the inevitable and endless coffee and file fetching, but unlike most supervisory agents, Peter Burke didn’t believe in breaking in probies with menial rote work, though there would be plenty of that. He’d work with various agents and take part in the daily briefings. He was encouraged to dig through the ever-present box of cold case files and find something to chew on, even if it was just a few stale mortgage fraud claims.

Then Agent Burke asked him something surprisingly personal. “Why New York? Why White Collar? You were originally posted in D.C. Isn’t that every new agent’s dream – a posting at Bureau headquarters?”

Stephen had expected this question. He tried not to let his nerves show, and thought of all the doorways he went through in Iraq. “Washington is very political – and I’m a soldier, sir. I can think on my feet and I’ll be the first one through the door, but I like to know who my enemies are. Washington is filled with people who smile at you and shake your hand just before they stab you in the back.”

Agent Burke didn’t reply and Stephen wondered if he’d just put his foot in it. Up to his neck. But when the man smiled, a rueful twist of his lips, he was relieved.

“Well put, Anderson. I’m sure there’s more to it than that – but your assessment is dead on.” Agent Burke got up. “I’m going to turn you over to Agent Berrigan – whatever you do, don’t piss her off. She’s another escapee from the D.C. office, and I understand the body count she left behind is still spoken of with awe.”

Stephen remembered Agent Berrigan, she had presented part of the lecture last May. Definitely a formidable woman.

Coop - damn it, Neal was talking with her when Agent Burke introduced him. He must have said something – Agent Berrigan looked him up and down. “You’ll do, you’ll do. Know anything about international money laundering?”

“I did my thesis on the subject, ma’am.”

“Don’t call me ma’am, Anderson.”

“Yes, ma..Agent Berrigan.” She sort of smiled at him.

“Good – then you’ll summarize these for me in advance of the 10 AM tag-up meeting tomorrow morning.” She dumped a pile of folders on him. “And I like my coffee dark and sweet, just so you know.”

Neal looked at him with something akin to sympathy. Diana glared at both of them. “My probie has work to do – and so do you, Analyst.”

Neal grinned, “Doesn’t that ever grow old, Di?”

“Nope, now scoot.”

Stephen watched Neal and Agent Burke go upstairs, to the ASAC’s office. There was something there – a rhythm between the two of them that he had never seen before.

“Anderson…Anderson?” Agent Berrigan was calling his name.

Shit Not good to be caught daydreaming when your boss is watching. And especially on your first day.

“Yes, Ma’… Agent Berrigan?”

“You were Neal’s roommate at Quantico?”

“Yes.”

Agent Berrigan grinned, and it was rather unnerving. “You’re going to have to tell me all about that. I still have a hard time wrapping my head around the concept of Neal Caffrey, criminal consultant, going through the New Agent training program.”

Stephen thought for a moment. “I did three tours in Iraq and one in Afghanistan, I was in some pretty awful places with some pretty badass men and women, but I have to say that there’s no one else I’d rather have watching my back than the man you call Neal Caffrey.”


Friday, September 23rd

Neal scrubbed the base of his palms against his burning eyeballs; the D-7 forms he needed to complete were one vast blur. It could be that he needed glasses or that he simply loathed paperwork. Bancroft never explained about the paperwork. The endless, soul-sucking paperwork. At least it was almost the end of the day at the end of a very long week.

“Here, you look like you could use this.” A cup of coffee, blessedly from Starbucks and not the office machine, was deposited in front of him. Neal looked up; Stephen was standing there, with that familiar half-smile on his face.

“Thanks – and what is the occasion?” Neal had been careful never to ask Stephen for anything that remotely resembled scut work.

“Nothing, you looked like you were a little frazzled and I thought could use a cup.”

He took a sip – it was an Americano and tasted like ambrosia. “That is … perfection.” He gave a heartfelt sigh. “And thank you.”

Stephen didn’t linger.

“Wait – sit.” Then realizing how preemptory he sounded – “Please.”

He didn’t exactly have an office – rather a large desk and workstation somewhat out of the flow of the open bullpen. Stephen dropped into the guest chair.

“You were pretty damn awesome in the meeting this morning.”

Neal felt his cheeks burn. “Not really.”

“Don’t say that – you’re like – light years ahead of everyone. Everyone except Agent Burke.”

Neal gave him his stock answer. “We work well together.”

“I look at you and think – this really is the guy I roomed with for five months. I always thought you were brilliant – but …” Stephen trailed off. “It’s a pity, really.”

“What?”

“That you did all that bad stuff – you’d have been an incredible agent.”

Neal sucked it up. This wasn’t unexpected, but it hurt. “Thank you.” He hoped there was more sincerity than sarcasm in his tone.

Stephen blinked at him. “That wasn’t very nice – what I just said. I’m sorry.”

“Forget about it. It’s not important, and it’s not like I haven’t heard it before.” In the old days, it seemed like that was every third sentence out of Peter’s mouth.

The silence became awkward. Neal had never really regained any closeness with Stephen. Probies didn’t often mix with the civilian analysts or with the de facto partners of the division ASAC. He had thought about taking his former roommate out to lunch a few times, but there never seemed to be a spare moment in the last three months. Or so he kept telling himself.

Stephen interrupted his train of thought. “Listen – Em and Matthew are going to be in town next week and we’re getting together. I was wondering if you’d like to join us.”

Neal didn’t know – a little less than a year since he stepped out of the program and it felt like a lifetime. In Quantico, he had reluctantly come to relish the friendship, even knowing that it would have to end – if not badly, then awkwardly. It was a nice memory, he didn’t know if this would spoil everything.

“What did Matthew and Emily say when you told them who I really was?

“I haven’t. Not yet.”

Neal raised an eyebrow.

“It really isn’t their business – I thought, if you wanted to come as Coop, you could. I wouldn’t blow your cover. Or, if you wanted to come as Neal Caffrey, you could do that too.”

“Can I think about it?” There was a certain appeal in sliding back into Cooper’s skin. Like keeping up an alias. And it wasn’t as if there wasn’t a Benjamin Cooper on the rolls at the FBI.

“Sure – we’re going to meet at McSorley’s for drinks and then probably someplace in Little Italy for dinner.”

“McSorley’s?”

“Yeah – Em wants to have a drink at the oldest bar in New York.”

“I don’t know – ”

“Well – think about it. They’ll be in town next Friday, and we’re going to hang for the weekend.” Stephen got up. “Look – I know it’s going to be awkward and no hard feelings if you don’t want to come. It’s not like you would really be interested in hearing about the day to day grind of a probationary agent’s life.”

That really wasn’t it – and Neal knew that Stephen understood that. He appreciated both the invitation and the out.

“I’ll let you know, okay?”

“Yeah – sure.” Stephen left, dodging around Peter with a mumbled, “ ’scuse me, Agent Burke.”

Peter dropped into the chair that Stephen had just vacated. “Problems?”

Neal leaned back and just shook his head.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Hmmm, maybe later?” His desk may be off of the main area, but it wasn’t really private.

Peter opened one of the folders on his desk and idly flipped through the printouts. “Okay.” There was nothing else that needed to be said between them. “Don’t work too late.” Peter dropped the file back on the desk, got up and gave him an ostensibly impersonal squeeze on the shoulder - no one could really see how Peter’s hand lingered for a second or two longer than normal. The touch and the secret caress made him warm, happy, and more than a bit aroused.

“No – I won’t.” Neal tried not to shift in his seat. Elizabeth had a thing out on the East End and the three of them were going to spend the weekend at a favorite place in the Hamptons. If Neal had his way, they wouldn’t leave the room. Well, he’d have to let Elizabeth out. But only for a little while.

Peter left him to finish up – the D-7’s were due by the thirtieth, it was the end of the budget quarter. God, he hated the paperwork. It was almost enough to drive him back to a life of crime. Almost.

He thought about Stephen’s offer, it would be nice to see Emily and Matthew. But he wasn’t Benjamin Cooper and somehow, the thought of spending the evening lying was unpleasant. He wasn’t so much of a different person these days that he would really bothered by simply telling lies, it was just who he would be lying to. At Quantico, he had been very careful not to lie outright – he treated the Brats (and pretty much everyone else) like they were Peter – he never told them a direct falsehood. Having to be “Coop” and talk about his non-existent probie experiences wouldn’t be like being at the Academy and feeding his friends the occasional evasion.

He may have been able to slip back into this world after his year away. The people here knew him for who he was and accepted his past. But the Brats were a world apart, and seeing them right now, whether as Benjamin Cooper or as Neal Caffrey would be a mistake.

Maybe after Stephen told them who he was, when expectations were not quite so high, maybe then.

Or maybe not.

FIN