White Collar: A Bit of Perspective
Spoilers for 4x09. Another episode tag: Neal has some thinking to do the day after his fallout with Peter, and Elizabeth pays him another visit.
I am simply not suppossed to do this - write another episode tag when I'm suppossed to be writing my master's thesis. But Elizabeth knocked on Neal's door, what could I do but answer? As usual, not beta-read, so excuse the mistakes, please.
Note: With all due respect, I prefer not to argue about how Neal or Peter should feel or behave. This is my take on the events and the characters; sometimes it doesn't fit a hundred per cent with the show, little things don't exactly fit in, but I like keeping a bit of freedom to myself. Thanks for your understanding.
The knock on the door raised him from his reverie.
"Come on in, Moz."
The knock repeated itself with a distinct tap-tap rhythm. Frowning, Neal raised from the stool by the easel and walked to the door.
"Elizabeth."
It was her who stood at the door, in a much more casual outfit than her usual dress-and-heels ensemble. Considering the late hour, it wasn't surprising.
"Can I come in?" she asked quietly, perhaps a little nervously. Neal blinked, hesitating for a second. The last time Elizabeth had dropped by, she had spied on him, and Neal was simply not in the mood to listen to her talking on behalf of Peter.
Elizabeth sighed, shoulders rising and falling. Neal pulled the door open. "Come in," he said, pointing inside with his head.
"Thank you."
"Listen, Elizabeth, if you've come to talk about Peter - "
"I've come to talk about you, actually."
That took him by surprise. "Did you, now?"
Standing in the middle of the room, Elizabeth sighed again, wriggling her fingers. "Neal, I did mean what I said today. We will always be here for you."
With a bitter smile Neal ducked his head down, choosing not to comment.
"I know you're angry, I know you're going through some--"
"Something you can't possibly understand." His hands opened towards the sides. "I am sorry, Elizabeth. I know you're trying to help, but you have no idea what I'm going through."
Gesturing towards the sofa with one hand, he turned and took a seat without waiting for Elizabeth. He was feeling quite tired, about to retire for the night when Elizabeth had come. It was strange, considering he had skipped work that day. In the morning he knew not going to the office would be childish, but he was sore and achy from the boxing match the previous day, and the thought of seeing Peter again make his stomach clench. Not quite because he was still mad, no, but because after his rage dwindled, he'd realized how certainly he had spoken to Peter. Had he really erased Peter from his life, just like that? It was simply too soon to him again, for anger was still not far from reach.
He'd called Diana in the morning and made up some half-lie about not being able to reach Peter, and told her he wouldn't be coming in. She hadn't questioned it, no; she'd joked about Peter knocking him out nicely.
It was a good thing she had hung up without waiting for a response.
He'd spent the day trying to track down Sam, waiting for news from Mozzie and trying to devise a plan to steal the briefcase and the locket-key from evidence room at the Marshalls' office. A sneaky headache had been brewing at the base of his neck, getting steadily stronger throughout the day. He'd just swallowed some painkillers with a glass of wine, knowing full well that he shouldn't, but doing so in a pointless need to be reckless. He'd imagined what Peter would say to such behaviour, imagined the disapproving look that would be on his face. It certainly didn't help the matters.
He rubbed a hand to his forehead, wishing he could turn off the lights.
"Neal... are you alright?"
Neal looked up when Elizabeth's voice came from very close; she had taken a seat opposite of him, watching him with an expression of genuine concern. He tried to conjure a smile for her.
"Yeah. I'm alright."
"I know the hour's quite late," she continued, still searching his face as though looking for something Neal couldn't even fathom then. "but I couldn't take Peter's grumpiness anymore, and I am worried about you."
"Peter. Grumpy." He didn't particularly try to hide the sarcasm.
"Yeah," Elizabeth chuckled. "Quite. And for what it's worth..." she sighed, fidgeting slightly, "I'm sorry for spying on you."
Another guilty conscience.
It made Neal smile a real smile. "I know. I'm not angry at you." And he wasn't; he didn't have it in himself to be angry at Elizabeth. She and Peter were a team, a team of the most close-knit kind, and Neal admired that. Admired what they had.
"Peter's really worried about you."
Neal shook his head. "Let me guess: he doesn't want me to 'do anything stupid'."
"Of course he doesn't, but I meant he's worried about how you are."
"I have to ask again," Neal said, voice cooling, "did Peter put you up to this?"
He hadn't expected Elizabeth to snap at him. "No, he didn't. I wish you would stop implying that my husband's using me like that."
"Sorry." Neal squinted, turning away from the wall light in his periphery and making it look like he was merely getting comfortable in his seat. "Elizabeth, I don't mean to be rude, but it's getting really late, and I should..."
"...stop avoiding us." She leaned back with a sigh, gathered her hair and tossed it over her shoulder. "Neal, Peter just wants to help you," she said softly. Blue eyes penetrating deep into his, holding his gaze. "You're looking for a man- two men, in fact; Sam and your father. Peter can help you find them."
"Like he found Sam?" He shook his head. "Ellen would still be alive if Peter hadn't put her name into the system." And even as he said that, one part of him didn't believe it.
"And if he hadn't, he couldn't find you and warn your about Collins."
"I could have avoided Collins; I could have found a way." Neal forced himself to keep calm, to not raise his voice. "We would have found a way," he repeated. Ellen didn't have to die trying to protect him.
He laughed humorlessly as an invisible hand clasped his throat. "You know, she said on the tape that she would do whatever it takes to keep me safe. I bet she never thought she'd die because she'd tried protecting me from a bounty hunter."
Because really, Neal knew that Ellen could have remained off-grid, requested a sooner transfer, done something, to avoid compromising her cover. But she hadn't; she knew perfectly well that her name had been flagged and she knew it was a risk, but she'd stayed and helped Peter find him.
Neal swallowed again, sick of the weight in his heart. Elizabeth's warm hand slipped over his cold fingers.
"Her death," Elizabeth spoke quietly, "wasn't you fault."
Neal would beg to differ. Instead, he sighed deeply. "Sam is gone. He's disappeared, because he thinks I didn't hold my end of the bargain, that I brought Peter into this."
Elizabeth smiled at that, a smile that was sad and affectionate. "Peter went to see Sam," she said softly, "because he too thought you didn't hold your end of the bargain."
And Neal laughed out aloud, because how would he not? Sitting back, he ran his fingers through his hair, dim remnants of the laughter on his face. "I screwed up." He chuckled bitterly. "If you were trying to comfort me, that is one weird strategy."
"It's not black and white," Elizabeth said, shaking her head. "You can't take the blame for Ellen's death and Sam's behavior; not completely." She paused for a second and Neal saw a brief hesitation pass from her eyes, but she continued. "But Neal, you actions affect the course of events. Half-truths and bending reality shape what is to come. When something undesirable happens, you look back, and see a mess behind you. And I wonder... if you'd be able to look behind and see a clear, open path.. would you feel as guilty as you do now?"
Would he?
Would he feel as guilty if he had always been completely honest with Peter?
Silence was Neal's only response. There was no clever comeback to the truth in Elizabeth's words. He could try to deny it, try to formulate a response and keep arguing, but he was too tired to try and he owed himself some honesty.
"That was a lot of metaphors," he muttered at last. It sounded lame to his own ears.
"Yeah, I sometimes surprise myself."
"I know it's not black and white," he said then. "Nothing's like that. But Sam had no reason to trust me, Elizabeth. I really thought that Peter did."
"Did you show Sam the tape?"
"I didn't." He paused, and hesited for a second, but he couldn't hold this back, not know. Looking back, and seeing a clear path. "But I was going to, if you hadn't come the second you did."
He expected her to say that Peter was right to not trust him then, that Neal himself wasn't exactly clean in this. But again, Elizabeth let the point remain silent.
"You know Peter, Neal," she said instead, elbows on her knees, bend forward towards him. "Peter is strict; but he has never been the black-and-white kind of law enforcement official. He has put his faith in you; he trusted you to keep in line." She took her bag and slowly rose to her feet. Her expression was soft and kind, as if to diminish the harshness of her words. "But if you ask me, you've been trudging in the grey areas for so long... I think you're losing your contours."
You're losing your contours.
Losing sight of the lines not to cross; the boundries, opposites that define each other and the area in-between.
You're losing it.
Neal walked Elizabeth to the door, let her lean in and give him a peck, and closed the door.
That would be another sleepless night.
I am simply not suppossed to do this - write another episode tag when I'm suppossed to be writing my master's thesis. But Elizabeth knocked on Neal's door, what could I do but answer? As usual, not beta-read, so excuse the mistakes, please.
Note: With all due respect, I prefer not to argue about how Neal or Peter should feel or behave. This is my take on the events and the characters; sometimes it doesn't fit a hundred per cent with the show, little things don't exactly fit in, but I like keeping a bit of freedom to myself. Thanks for your understanding.
The knock on the door raised him from his reverie.
"Come on in, Moz."
The knock repeated itself with a distinct tap-tap rhythm. Frowning, Neal raised from the stool by the easel and walked to the door.
"Elizabeth."
It was her who stood at the door, in a much more casual outfit than her usual dress-and-heels ensemble. Considering the late hour, it wasn't surprising.
"Can I come in?" she asked quietly, perhaps a little nervously. Neal blinked, hesitating for a second. The last time Elizabeth had dropped by, she had spied on him, and Neal was simply not in the mood to listen to her talking on behalf of Peter.
Elizabeth sighed, shoulders rising and falling. Neal pulled the door open. "Come in," he said, pointing inside with his head.
"Thank you."
"Listen, Elizabeth, if you've come to talk about Peter - "
"I've come to talk about you, actually."
That took him by surprise. "Did you, now?"
Standing in the middle of the room, Elizabeth sighed again, wriggling her fingers. "Neal, I did mean what I said today. We will always be here for you."
With a bitter smile Neal ducked his head down, choosing not to comment.
"I know you're angry, I know you're going through some--"
"Something you can't possibly understand." His hands opened towards the sides. "I am sorry, Elizabeth. I know you're trying to help, but you have no idea what I'm going through."
Gesturing towards the sofa with one hand, he turned and took a seat without waiting for Elizabeth. He was feeling quite tired, about to retire for the night when Elizabeth had come. It was strange, considering he had skipped work that day. In the morning he knew not going to the office would be childish, but he was sore and achy from the boxing match the previous day, and the thought of seeing Peter again make his stomach clench. Not quite because he was still mad, no, but because after his rage dwindled, he'd realized how certainly he had spoken to Peter. Had he really erased Peter from his life, just like that? It was simply too soon to him again, for anger was still not far from reach.
He'd called Diana in the morning and made up some half-lie about not being able to reach Peter, and told her he wouldn't be coming in. She hadn't questioned it, no; she'd joked about Peter knocking him out nicely.
It was a good thing she had hung up without waiting for a response.
He'd spent the day trying to track down Sam, waiting for news from Mozzie and trying to devise a plan to steal the briefcase and the locket-key from evidence room at the Marshalls' office. A sneaky headache had been brewing at the base of his neck, getting steadily stronger throughout the day. He'd just swallowed some painkillers with a glass of wine, knowing full well that he shouldn't, but doing so in a pointless need to be reckless. He'd imagined what Peter would say to such behaviour, imagined the disapproving look that would be on his face. It certainly didn't help the matters.
He rubbed a hand to his forehead, wishing he could turn off the lights.
"Neal... are you alright?"
Neal looked up when Elizabeth's voice came from very close; she had taken a seat opposite of him, watching him with an expression of genuine concern. He tried to conjure a smile for her.
"Yeah. I'm alright."
"I know the hour's quite late," she continued, still searching his face as though looking for something Neal couldn't even fathom then. "but I couldn't take Peter's grumpiness anymore, and I am worried about you."
"Peter. Grumpy." He didn't particularly try to hide the sarcasm.
"Yeah," Elizabeth chuckled. "Quite. And for what it's worth..." she sighed, fidgeting slightly, "I'm sorry for spying on you."
Another guilty conscience.
It made Neal smile a real smile. "I know. I'm not angry at you." And he wasn't; he didn't have it in himself to be angry at Elizabeth. She and Peter were a team, a team of the most close-knit kind, and Neal admired that. Admired what they had.
"Peter's really worried about you."
Neal shook his head. "Let me guess: he doesn't want me to 'do anything stupid'."
"Of course he doesn't, but I meant he's worried about how you are."
"I have to ask again," Neal said, voice cooling, "did Peter put you up to this?"
He hadn't expected Elizabeth to snap at him. "No, he didn't. I wish you would stop implying that my husband's using me like that."
"Sorry." Neal squinted, turning away from the wall light in his periphery and making it look like he was merely getting comfortable in his seat. "Elizabeth, I don't mean to be rude, but it's getting really late, and I should..."
"...stop avoiding us." She leaned back with a sigh, gathered her hair and tossed it over her shoulder. "Neal, Peter just wants to help you," she said softly. Blue eyes penetrating deep into his, holding his gaze. "You're looking for a man- two men, in fact; Sam and your father. Peter can help you find them."
"Like he found Sam?" He shook his head. "Ellen would still be alive if Peter hadn't put her name into the system." And even as he said that, one part of him didn't believe it.
"And if he hadn't, he couldn't find you and warn your about Collins."
"I could have avoided Collins; I could have found a way." Neal forced himself to keep calm, to not raise his voice. "We would have found a way," he repeated. Ellen didn't have to die trying to protect him.
He laughed humorlessly as an invisible hand clasped his throat. "You know, she said on the tape that she would do whatever it takes to keep me safe. I bet she never thought she'd die because she'd tried protecting me from a bounty hunter."
Because really, Neal knew that Ellen could have remained off-grid, requested a sooner transfer, done something, to avoid compromising her cover. But she hadn't; she knew perfectly well that her name had been flagged and she knew it was a risk, but she'd stayed and helped Peter find him.
Neal swallowed again, sick of the weight in his heart. Elizabeth's warm hand slipped over his cold fingers.
"Her death," Elizabeth spoke quietly, "wasn't you fault."
Neal would beg to differ. Instead, he sighed deeply. "Sam is gone. He's disappeared, because he thinks I didn't hold my end of the bargain, that I brought Peter into this."
Elizabeth smiled at that, a smile that was sad and affectionate. "Peter went to see Sam," she said softly, "because he too thought you didn't hold your end of the bargain."
And Neal laughed out aloud, because how would he not? Sitting back, he ran his fingers through his hair, dim remnants of the laughter on his face. "I screwed up." He chuckled bitterly. "If you were trying to comfort me, that is one weird strategy."
"It's not black and white," Elizabeth said, shaking her head. "You can't take the blame for Ellen's death and Sam's behavior; not completely." She paused for a second and Neal saw a brief hesitation pass from her eyes, but she continued. "But Neal, you actions affect the course of events. Half-truths and bending reality shape what is to come. When something undesirable happens, you look back, and see a mess behind you. And I wonder... if you'd be able to look behind and see a clear, open path.. would you feel as guilty as you do now?"
Would he?
Would he feel as guilty if he had always been completely honest with Peter?
Silence was Neal's only response. There was no clever comeback to the truth in Elizabeth's words. He could try to deny it, try to formulate a response and keep arguing, but he was too tired to try and he owed himself some honesty.
"That was a lot of metaphors," he muttered at last. It sounded lame to his own ears.
"Yeah, I sometimes surprise myself."
"I know it's not black and white," he said then. "Nothing's like that. But Sam had no reason to trust me, Elizabeth. I really thought that Peter did."
"Did you show Sam the tape?"
"I didn't." He paused, and hesited for a second, but he couldn't hold this back, not know. Looking back, and seeing a clear path. "But I was going to, if you hadn't come the second you did."
He expected her to say that Peter was right to not trust him then, that Neal himself wasn't exactly clean in this. But again, Elizabeth let the point remain silent.
"You know Peter, Neal," she said instead, elbows on her knees, bend forward towards him. "Peter is strict; but he has never been the black-and-white kind of law enforcement official. He has put his faith in you; he trusted you to keep in line." She took her bag and slowly rose to her feet. Her expression was soft and kind, as if to diminish the harshness of her words. "But if you ask me, you've been trudging in the grey areas for so long... I think you're losing your contours."
You're losing your contours.
Losing sight of the lines not to cross; the boundries, opposites that define each other and the area in-between.
You're losing it.
Neal walked Elizabeth to the door, let her lean in and give him a peck, and closed the door.
That would be another sleepless night.