White Collar fic - Can't Be Both (Chapter 7)

[sheenianni]

Again, this chapter, as well as the whole story, has been beta'ed by GrayWolf 84.

Seventeen days ‘till the second half of the Season! Only seventeen days by now. I’m anxiously crossing off  the days in my calendar.

And I wish you all a happy, beautiful and peaceful Year 2012!

CHAPTER 7

“I haven’t moved your things,” says June when she unlocks the door to Neal’s apartment.

“Thank you so much,” says Neal.

June smiles at him and opens his arms for him in a hug.

Neal gratefully lets her embrace him and lays his head on June’s shoulder when she gently strokes his back.

“You know,” says June quietly, “me and Byron had the best family we could have wished for, with our two little girls and later our grandchildren… But we always wanted a son as well.” She strokes his hair. “I think Byron would have liked you very much.”

“Thank you,” whispers Neal as something in him twists. His eyes are burning and he can’t let go of June’s kind, gentle hug.

She understands.

“I’ll miss you, Neal,” says June softly.

“I know,” he says tightly. “I’ll stay in contact, I promise.”

June squeezes his shoulder.

“It will be fine, my dear. You’ll be fine.”

And Neal believes her.

*          *          *

Kramer has given him four hours to pack his things and say goodbye to June - which, Neal realizes, was quite generous of him. He is already done and still has more than two hours left, so he decides to take a shower and then maybe paint June a quick goodbye gift before Kramer arrives to pick him up.

As he wipes away the wetness from his hair and dresses, he stares at the GPS tracker that is once again snapped around his ankle. For now, the radius is June’s home. Later Kramer will call the Marshals, take it off at the airport and they will reset it once he reaches Washington DC.

Neal has already listened to a two-hour lecture what will happen to him if he even thinks about running from the airport. The best was the message that Kramer conveyed from Diana - ‘screw up and I’ll execute the elevator threat and then some, even if I have to chase you all over the Earth; understood, Caffrey? … Please, take care.’

Shaking his head with a small smile, Neal sets out an easel and a canvas before picking up three brushes and a palette with his chosen colors. He doesn’t have much time, so will have to paint the same quick way he forged the Degas -

Somehow, it seems like that happened in a completely different lifetime, yet it wasn’t much more than a month ago.

He skips making a sketch with the pencil, confident that he has perfectly memorized the image he wants to paint, and goes right to the brief outlines and the first version of the background and the shapes. The colors have barely enough time to dry when he moves to the second layer. Slowly, the figures on the canvas are coming to life; four people sitting on a bench in the front with several more figures behind them, outside in a park on a winter afternoon, surrounded by trees as snowflakes fall onto their hair and faces, with lamps shining on them. They’re all smiling and radiating quiet happiness. There are two dogs playing around, one huge, one small, and it’s maybe a week before Christmas when everyone has taken a day off to just enjoy each other’s companionship. And as their faces become more and more clear, Neal’s hand begins to tremble, until he takes a step back because he simply can’t continue.

He doesn’t even notice the sound of the door opening, nor the person who steps inside until a hand lands on his shoulder.

“Neal?”

He almost jumps in shock and turns around.

“Peter?”

“Can I see it?” asks Peter gently.

“Peter,” repeats Neal tremulously. “Peter… you’re here.”

“I am.”

“How’s Elizabeth?” asks Neal immediately.

“She’s fine,” says Peter. “Well, mostly fine. She still doesn’t like being home alone, so I left her with a friend. We’re getting some security improvements to help her feel safer - “

“I can help with that,” says Neal immediately. “Well, not in person, but I can give you advice. Whatever you need, just tell me.”

Peter sighs. “We’ll let the specialists deal with it… but we may contact you afterwards as well. You certainly know your stuff.”

Neal suppresses the flinch at this half-accusation. “Yes. I do.”

There is silence.

Finally, Peter sighs. “Neal, I’m - “

“I let you down,” says Neal quietly. “I mislead you. I didn’t trust you and I betrayed our friendship. I can’t explain what possessed me to break into your house.” He takes a shaky breath. “When the warehouse exploded and you accused me, I thought it was a nightmare. All I wanted was to wake up. … Then I found the note and the treasure, and suddenly Mozzie was involved; I was involved, and I couldn’t back out. When my painting was found at the crime scene, I slipped right back into what I knew the best. First it was about the treasure… then I was helping a friend… In the end, I just couldn’t stop the scam.”

Neal makes a pause, trying to compose his next words while Peter waits in silence.

“I was scared. I thought that you would find out and send me back; that you’d think it was all a con for me when it wasn’t. I thought I could fix things with secrecy and lies...”

“But sometimes, that doesn’t work,” finishes Peter knowingly.

“No,” agrees Neal. “I was wrong. I failed both you and Mozzie, as a partner and also as a friend. I didn’t want to pull that last big con, but neither could I be the man you wanted me to be.” He holds Peter’s gaze. “I don’t know if you can believe me, but I never would have done it if I thought you or Elizabeth could get hurt. Never. I wouldn’t have kept the lies had I known that it would be at the cost of our partnership. … I should have seen it.” His voice drops down to whisper. “And I’m sorry.”

The silence that follows is long, painful and heavy.

Finally, Peter sighs. “Neal…”

“I’m sorry, Peter,” says Neal in quiet, but steady voice. “I was chasing shadows, trying to live in two worlds at once, and it ended hurting us all. I have no right to ask for anything… but if you can trust me at least a little, believe me that I’m sorry for everything.”

He would say it to Moz as well, but Moz is gone, an ugly, traitor’s sacrifice made so that Neal could pick up at least some shambles of his relationship with Peter and the rest.

Neal swallows. “I never wanted you to get hurt.”

Silence.

Peter’s eyes are staring right into him. They are burning through him; measuring, judging, assessing. Peter is looking right into his soul, reading him like an open book, until Neal simply can’t stand it anymore and breaks the contact. His heart clenches.

He doesn’t know how he will pick the pieces when Peter speaks and tells him to stuff his regrets there where sun doesn’t shine.

“It wasn’t just your fault.”

Neal’s eyes shoot up.

“I’m not exactly happy with the choices you’ve made,” says Peter. “But… damn it.” He looks away. “I’m not good at apologies.”

“Apologies?” asks Neal incredulously. “Peter, you have no reason to - “

“That’s where you’re wrong, Neal.” Peter puts his hands on his hips and looks sideways. “Look, I - ah.”

Neal waits.

“You’re not the only one who hasn’t been the best friend,” says Peter at last. “When the warehouse exploded, I really jumped your case. And I was wrong. I was angry and suspicious when you needed me the most. My only excuse is that I had just killed a man. … I wonder how things would have been if I’d asked you as a friend instead of as an FBI agent.”

“It might not have made a difference,” says Neal quietly.

It pains him to admit that. But if they’re trying to be honest with each other, then he owes Peter the truth.

“I think it would have,” states Peter directly. He shakes his head. “Instead, for months, I made constant subtle jabs to show that I didn’t trust you.”

“Or not so subtle,” murmurs Neal with an almost fond smile, remembering their argument during the De Luca case. Then he loses his smile. “But it doesn’t matter, Peter. I knew you still trusted me with the important things; you’ve made that clear enough. You still had my back. And as for the treasure… you were right. I was involved.”

“The point is, I should have sat you down, bought a couple beers or wine and talked to you face to face - without anger, without accusations, just two guys trying to find a way out of a horrible mess.”

“You could have tried,” concedes Neal. “And maybe you would have succeeded, but maybe you’d have just made me feel more guilty. I don’t know if I could have given up Mozzie.” He makes a pause before he hesitantly speaks. “I don’t… I don’t even know if I would have given up the treasure myself. … Probably yes, but… I just don’t know.”

“You would have,” says Peter. “You know why? Because deep down, you know what the right thing is. You’re a good person, Neal. You would have done the right thing.”

“Peter,” whispers Neal, his throat squeezed so much he almost can’t breathe.

If Peter noticed his turbulent feelings, he doesn’t let it show. “I should have laid the cards on the table,” he says. “Instead, I wavered between trying to catch you and to cover for you - which, like in your case, simply blew up into our faces.”

“Wait a moment,” says Neal, “you tried to cover for me? - Of course,” he nods almost immediately. “The scrap of my painting.”

“Among other things,” says Peter. “Didn’t you wonder why I never asked the right question during your interrogation?”

“You asked if I took it.”

“And if you had taken it, then the only chance for some damage control would have been to find out as soon as possible and return it,” says Peter. “I had plans.”

“You didn’t ask me whether I knew where it was,” says Neal in a sudden realization. “Not even if the things burned, if someone else stole them. “

“If you had plausible deniability, I didn’t want to take that from you.”

“I knew something was off… but I thought you were too angry to ask about anything else than my guilt,” says Neal.

“I was pretty pissed off,” admits Peter.

“You thought I took it, but if I didn’t, you were buying me time to make it right,” says Neal in astonishment. “Even then, you still wouldn’t let me fall.” He shakes his head. “How did I miss that?”

“Nobody was supposed to notice,” says Peter openly.

“I should have. … When you had El test the painting, I had doubts…”

“We both made mistakes,” says Peter. “Even though yours may have been bigger than mine.”

Neal takes a deep breath. “Are you,” he hesitates, “are you still angry with me? Is Elizabeth?”

“I am a little angry,” admits Peter. “Mostly I’m sorry for what happened. These past few weeks - “

“Peter, if I had any idea what Keller would do, I would have given him the treasure and damn the consequences. Or I would have confessed. The same goes for Mozzie.”

“I’m not so sure anymore about your little friend,” says Peter and Neal suddenly remembers that Moz hired men to kill Keller when Elizabeth was still safely home. “But I know you, Neal. And I wasn’t talking about Keller. What I really mean…” He takes a deep breath. “You were on your own at both of your hearings and all the time between. Numerous times in these past weeks, I should have been there for you. But I wasn’t.”

“You were angry,” says Neal softly. “And you had every right to be. Besides, you were concerned about Elizabeth. I couldn’t blame you even if I wanted - “

“Even when angry, friends should stand by each other,” says Peter firmly. Then he sighs. “I tried to be your mentor, we were partners - and then I abandoned you when you were in dire need of my help. Even when you were conning me, you never did that. I looked out for you when you were guilty, but when you actually tried to make things right, I let you drown on your own. If it wasn’t for Diana and Jones, for June, your lawyer and Kramer, you could have ended in prison for decades - and I didn’t do a damn thing to stop it.”

Neal bites his lip and clenches his fists, desperately trying to battle down his raging emotions.

“You did let me down with the treasure,” says Peter softly, and it nearly breaks Neal’s heart. “But you stayed. You persuaded Mozzie to return the art, you saved El and confessed. And then I let you down even worse because I couldn’t overcome my own fear and anger. I failed you. And I’m sorry.”

Peter’s words bring up all the stress of the past few months, but especially the anguish of loneliness, despair and abandonment that Neal experienced in the last five weeks, when Peter wouldn’t talk to him, wouldn’t contact him, look at him, wouldn’t care -

He doesn’t even realize when it happens, but suddenly he lets out a sob. And he is a first class conman, so he should be able to control himself, to mask his feelings - but somehow, he can’t. So instead, he just turns around because he doesn’t want Peter to see him cry -

Blinded with tears, he stares at the incomplete canvas. Damn it - his shoulders are shaking, and Neal clasps his hands together to make that less visible, but it doesn’t help much. He doesn’t make a sound except for that first choked sob, and he hopes that maybe Peter won’t realize what’s going on, or maybe he would be willing to pretend this didn’t happen -

“Neal?”

It hurts. God, it hurts - the feeling of betrayal and the guilt that it caused, because he was the one who started this - then the feeling that he had screwed up so bad he wasn’t even worthy of Peter’s look; the total devastation at losing the most precious thing in his life because of his own stupidity -

“Look, I’m sorry,” says Peter and awkwardly lays a hand on Neal shoulder, causing him to tremble even worse - which startles Peter, so he almost immediately removes his hand -

“Don’t,” chokes out Neal.

“Don’t what?” asks Peter.

“Don’t let go,” says Neal shakily.

It takes Peter some time to figure it out, but then he finally places his hand back. It’s like an anchor connecting Neal to the real world and saving him from the depths of some unimaginable abyss -

Peter’s here.

It’s real, tangible, a direct proof that -

Peter’s still here.

Peter just stands her in silence, with his hand on Neal’s shoulder. Then suddenly, he slowly pulls Neal into a hesitant, awkward hug. With Peter’s quiet support, Neal lets go, lets all his grief and guilt and sadness be washed away with his tears, until everything that’s left is just deep, lasting relief.

It’s over. It’s finally over.

And Peter still holds him.

“I’m sorry Neal,” says Peter quietly. “What I’ve done - what I haven’t done - never again, alright? Even if you’re away, I won’t leave you like this. Whatever happens - if you need me, I’ll be there. I promise.”

Neal believes him.

*          *          *

“Thank you,” whispers Neal quietly when he turns around and Peter pulls away.

“I’ll always have your back, Neal,” promises Peter. “Always.”

Silence.

“Why don’t we sit down?” says Neal at last and motions to the nearby couch.

“Okay,” says Peter and follows his lead.

So, here they are, sitting in Neal’s living room - and Peter seriously hopes Neal knows where to go from there, because he really feels kind of helpless.

“No more secrets, right?” says Neal at last.

Peter nods. “No more secrets.”

Suddenly, Neal frowns. “Why is that that every time we make that promise, it gets broken?”

Peter sighs. “You tell me.”

Neal winces. “That’s right; this one’s on my head.”

“We’ll get better,” says Peter. He sincerely believes it.

When he chose to forgive Neal, he did it completely, without second thoughts. It was the only way he could see out of the past events. Now he knows it was the right choice.

They still have issues. But they also have the time - and the will - for repairs.

Then Neal smiles at him - really smiles. “And I’ll have your back whenever you need me. … What’s with you?” he asks curiously.

It takes Peter a moment before he realizes what Neal is talking about; he realizes that he’s grinning like an idiot.

“You’re smiling again,” he says simply.

“I always smile,” says Neal.

“True. But this one reaches your eyes.”

“Because I’m happy,” says Neal softly. “For the first time since El was kidnapped, I feel like I’m truly alive again. I can breathe.”

Peter coughs in embarrassment, a little afraid that Neal will start crying on him again. He will offer Neal his shoulder any time he needs, but he hopes that like him, Neal is willing to pretend it never happened. Peter and emotional stuff doesn’t always mix well, though he tries his best.

“That’s what partners do,” says Peter a bit roughly. “We help each other out.”

Neal offers him a soft smile. “Thank you, Peter,” he says sincerely.

They sit in silence.

“I didn’t always have luck with partners,” says Neal quietly. “The first guy I worked with took everything we gained and ran with it. The second tried to backstab me when I wasn’t looking.” The dark look in Neal’s face makes Peter wonder what is the exact story behind this one. “Then there was the short time with Keller… and finally, I found Mozzie, Kate and Alex. And then you.”

“If I didn’t see the sentiment behind it, I would be almost insulted you compare me with Keller,” says Peter with a hint of humor, enjoying Neal’s aghast expression. “Relax,” he says with a smile. “It was nice,” he adds as an afterthought.

Neal gives him a mischievous smile. “Remember that “bad cop, good criminal” con? Or Burke’s seven? Or that con when we pretended to be each other?”

“It was a sting,” corrects Peter fondly. “I myself was more partial to the Roland brothers’ case - except for Savannah.” Suddenly, the case doesn’t seem so interesting anymore when he recalls the small girl being kidnapped and thinks of El.

“Yes, playing with the sextant was fun,” says Neal carefully. “And it all ended well.”

“It did,” says Peter. “It did end well.” He takes a deep breath. “That’s what’s important.”

There is a pause.

“I meant it,” says Neal quietly after a while. “When I said I’ll have your back - Peter, if you need anything when I’m gone, just let me know. One call, and I’ll skip the anklet and be there before the Marshals even notice I’m gone.”

“Oh no,” says Peter forcefully, “you will do nothing of that kind. You’ll stay in Washington, you’ll keep your nose clean, you’ll work with Kramer and you’ll like it. If you ever even think about slipping that tracker, just call me and I’ll set you straight, even if I have to buy a ticket and fly to DC. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” says Neal. Then he looks into Peter’s eyes. “You know I would go back to prison if it meant helping you or El,” he says seriously.

“I know,” says Peter. “You on the other hand should know that we will never ask that of you.”

“I know,” repeats Neal smilingly.

They sit in silence, until suddenly Neal jerks and looks at his wristwatch. “Damn,” he exclaims in panic, “Kramer was to pick me up downstairs fifteen minutes ago!” He shoots up from the seat and quickly starts looking around for something. “Peter, I’m really sorry, but - “

“Calm down,” says Peter and stands up as well. “I’ve talked to Kramer.” Neal stops his search for whatever he’s missing and looks at Peter. “Your flight is at about ten p.m.,” explains Peter. “Until then, we have time.”

“Oh.”

Given the time they’ll need to get to the airport and all the things there, that leaves them with almost four more hours. Neal visibly relaxes and comes back to Peter. “That’s good, then.”

They stare at each other awkwardly, before Neal bites his lip and gives Peter an uncertain smile. “So, would you like some coffee or beer?”

*          *          *

“… it feels like I’ve signed up for five years of hell,” sighs Neal. “I have a curfew, no privacy, my radius’s been cut to two hundred feet - and apparently I’m on a very shaky ground to keep even that.”

“Do you realize how far Kramer had to go to get you this deal?” asks Peter.

Neal bites his lip. “I may have some idea,” he admits quietly.

“Good,” says Peter strictly. “Then stop bitching about it.”

Neal makes a vague sound to appease Peter.

“I mean it, Neal,” says Peter gravely. “Seriously - don’t complain in front of Kramer. He had to call in about fifty favors that people in various departments owed him. He really went out of his way for you - “

“It wasn’t for me,” says Neal. “He did it for you.”

“Neal, Kramer has just signed up to spend every day for five years watching over you. That’s not something you do as a simple favor to a friend,” says Peter. “I’m not saying our friendship didn’t play a part, but I can also tell that if Kramer didn’t want to take you on, no amount of friendship would have persuaded him to do it. … You’ve made an impression upon him.”

“An impression?” asks Neal incredulously. “Peter, he sees me as a thief. He doesn’t like me. He doesn’t trust me. Frankly, I’m surprised he left me here to pack without supervision.”

“It’s a start,” says Peter.

Neal lets out a bitter chuckle. “Yeah. It’s a start.” He sighs and raises his hands in defense. “I know, I know! I could be in prison. Cowboy up - “

“Shush,” says Peter gently. Then, to Neal’s astonishment, he pulls him into a one-armed half-hug. “I know it’s hard,” he says quietly. “It will be worth it. You can do it,” he says with absolute conviction.

Neal leans his back against Peter’s arm. “I’m not sure if this can work out,” he says quietly, not quite willing to admit how much all this scares him - leaving, losing Peter’s daily support, not to mention all the tight can’t-screw-up conditions.

“It doesn’t have to be a fight, you know,” says Peter soothingly. “Kramer is a good guy. You’ll like him once you get to know each other. And you’ll grow on him, like you do on everyone else. The two of you will do some good work together.”

“I know… but it’s not the same,” says Neal. “I want to work with you. I always wanted that.”

“Always?” asks Peter with raised eyebrows.

Neal gives him a sheepish smile with a hint of mischief. “Ever since you first started chasing me. … It wasn’t easy to run from you. You would predict my movements and follow me through the dark places. You were good.”

“I was, wasn’t I?” says Peter proudly.

Neal pokes him a little, testing the boundaries. “I used to imagine all the things we could have done together. The cons we could have pulled if you were on my side of the law…”

“Imagine that,” says Peter with a dry smile. Neal is relieved when he realizes that Peter isn’t the slightest bit angered.

It also makes him realize what they are both losing.

“I blew it,” he says quietly.

“We both did,” says Peter.

There is silence.

Suddenly, Neal realizes something. “I didn’t even ask - what about you? Are you facing some consequences because of the treasure?”

Peter grimaces. “Well, the fact that you confessed and that it’s now safely back went long way to repairing bridges. They blamed me for breaking the protocol with the painting scrap - “

“That’s my fault,” says Neal in recognition. “My confession - Peter, I didn’t realize I was implicating you. I’m sorry - “

“It’s okay,” says Peter. “It was my decision to work outside the book. Although I almost wonder that, had I had it tested immediately, maybe this all could have been avoided.”

“Well, you’ll never know,” says Neal with a shrug. “So, about you…”

“I got a stern warning,” says Peter. “A lot of people spoke for me. I managed to keep my position, though you’re not the only one who’s on a very shaky probation right now. It will calm down,” he says evenly.

Well, it could have been worse. “That’s good,” says Neal honestly.

Peter frowns. “You mean like “five years in jail” good, or - “

“I mean good,” interrupts Neal hastily. The he smiles. “Just good.”

“Fine,” says Peter.

The silence between them is almost comfortable.

“So, will you finish it?” says Peter and points to the painting.

Neal smiles. “I think I will, now.”

He is almost done anyway.

“It’s a goodbye-present for June,” he explains as he starts mixing the colors again.

“Can I watch?” asks Peter.

Neal hesitates. “Actually…”

This one is personal. Besides, he prefers to paint alone. On the other hand, he has done it with Mozzie observing him before. So… “Sure,” he says at last. “Just keep your opinion to yourself until I’m done.”

Then Neal picks up the brush again. There it is again, just like in his mind - the winter afternoon, the park, the bench with four people and a small group behind them, the two dogs, the lamps and snowflakes. Neal briefly adds a few lines to the trees before he starts working on the people’s faces - the only thing that is really missing beside from some added shadowing. And this time, his hand is steady, even when he moves to the figure sitting in the middle of the bench and to the person standing behind it.

Twenty minutes later, he is finished.

He wipes his hands into a dam cloth and looks at Peter. “Well, what do you think…?”

Peter is very still and very, very quiet, which makes Neal really nervous.

“It’s…” starts Peter and shakes his head. “Neal, it’s absolutely beautiful.”

“You think so?” asks Neal self-consciously.

“It’s perfect.”

“June made me think about it,” says Neal. “She told me Byron would have liked me as his son. It got me thinking about family…”

The four people on the bench are Byron, June, Neal and Sara, Byron’s face aged just a little as opposed to how Neal knows him from the photographs. June is putting on a hat and Byron is watching her with obvious fondness and love, while Neal has a slightly mischievous expression in his face and Sara has her head laid on his shoulder. And then there are other people around the bench - Mozzie is standing on Byron’s side, some weird sort of spy device hanging around his neck, while on the other side stand Jones and Diana, who is wearing a yellow and red striped cap and scarf. Then next to Mozzie towards the middle stands El, with her arm loosely positioned around the waist of the figure in the middle of the upper row - around Peter.

Peter, who just like the rest of them is smiling. Peter, who looks almost carefree. Peter, who has both hands squarely laid on Neal’s shoulders in a gesture that simply radiates care, security, protection and love.

A few steps from the people are Satchmo and Bugsy playing in the white, fresh snow.

The painting holds people that are alive and dead, people from both sides of the law - suddenly, Peter gasps and points to a little detail - Neal smiles at the origami flower in Byron’s hand, Alex’s signature - and it works.

It is a week before Christmas, it’s family time and it’s perfect.

“I added Byron because of June,” says Neal quietly. “Also because I wanted to accept his legacy.”

Peter gives him a questioning look.

“He found the way out,” explains Neal softly. “He gave up the scams and gained all this. … I’d… I think I’d like that as well.”

“You will,” says Peter confidently and put his hand on Neal’s shoulder.

“Jones and Diana really helped me after we rescued El,” continues Neal. “Mozzie just refused to be left out. We sort of screwed each other these past months… I think the picture is the least I owe him after giving up on him. … I hope I can fix things with Sara, though I’d accept her even as a friend.”

“And the others…?” asks Peter gently, meaning El and Peter and Neal.

Neal takes a shaky breath. “It’s how I’d like it to be,” he says quietly.

“You can have this,” says Peter. “You can have better than this.”

“I can?” asks Neal vulnerably.

Peter squeezes his shoulder. “Let’s give this to June and get your things,” he says. “We have a place to visit today.”

“A place?” asks Neal curiously. “Where?”

“You’ll see,” says Peter secretively.

Five minutes later, when Neal has changed into a suit and collected all his things, he carefully picks up the painting and with one last wistful look he lets Peter lock the apartment. Then they go downstairs, where Neal gives the painting to June and exchanges goodbyes with her.

“Take care, dear,” says June fondly, and Neal replies that he will never forget her and her kindness. Then they hug, they kiss each others’ cheeks and suddenly Neal is out the door, putting his suitcase and his small bag into the trunk of Peter’s car. He takes his place next to Peter in the car and waves June goodbye before her house completely disappears from his view.

One chapter of his life is ending. Another has just begun.

A/N:

Only the epilogue remaining now.