I'm Gone
This fic is the alternate ending to Or I'm Gone
Elizabeth looks like she's about to call Peter back, but she glances back at Neal as she trots after Peter, and shuts the door behind him instead. She sits down on the couch and tries her best to pull Neal into a hug, but he ducks out of her arms with a winning smile. "Its fine, Elizabeth. I just don't like being lied to. Ironic, I suppose, even hypocritical, but I don't need to be babied over it."
Elizabeth doesn't look like she was buying it, but Neal is tired of fighting Peter for every scrap of affection from their table. He just wants today to be over with. He musters the last of his energy and drops his smile a few degrees so that it looks a little sad, a little injured, but gives the impression that he'll recover on his own if he has a little space and a little time. El looks really hard at him, but she doesn't see past the mask. She reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind Neal's ear as she studies him, and he doesn't lean into it, resists pleading for more by the skin of his teeth.
When El gets up to follow Peter out the door, he can still feel the heat of her finger lingering on his cheek, a tiny spot of warmth that has him reconsidering- but El has her own life and can be territorial at times. He won't risk asking, not when, at best, he'll end up in the same position in a few months.
He watches El leave feeling that same duality to his feelings, the longing to call her back and the satisfaction that she believed him, accompanied by the relief and hurt that he's finally truly alone. He curls up on the couch, doesn't even make it to the bed. Memories of Kate fill his mind, and even though he knows even she won't be enough anymore, she's all he has. Had. He had her. He needs her. He reaches for the phone and only keeps just enough of the listlessness from his voice to fool Mozz when he asks him what they've got on Alex's location. He doesn't even finish the conversation. The moment he hears she's in the city, he lowers the phone to the table. Let Mozzie think he's fallen asleep, he doesn't care.
The idea of touching himself, of grabbing at the heady, satisfying feeling, never crosses his mind. He doesn't have the energy. He ends up falling asleep before Mozz finishes talking, anyway, so at least that's one person he's not lying to. Yet.
At work, Peter is normal, unaffected. Neal drags himself through the day, tries to look like he cares about the cases that used to excite and thrill him. Tries to pretend he doesn't feel like his limbs weigh three times what they should, tries to pretend there isn't a pit of dread in his stomach. To him, everything he does seems a little off, but unless his ability to read people has suddenly deserted him, he does a convincing job of being the Neal Caffrey everyone thinks they know.
It isn't until Peter throws an arm around his shoulder and starts marching them off to lunch like they're old friends that Neal breaks character and ducks out of Peter's friendly arm. "Neal?"
Neal has to shake off his stupor and pretend everything's all right even when it feels like he just broke straight through a safety net and can't know how far away the ground is, has no idea if the net slowed him enough that he'll survive the plummet uninjured. His smile must be a little shaky, because Peter clamps a hand down on his arm and pulls him aside.
"What is wrong with you?"
"What's wrong with me?" Neal hisses, anger swelling up out of nowhere. "What's wrong with you?" His voice shakes as he continues, "I asked just for a little time, a little- you think of me as an asset you're required to treat humanely, don't you?" Peter's about to say yes, but Neal plows on, "That's why you agreed, isn't it? To humor me?"
"No!"
"Then why?"
"Because you were going to throw your life away!"
Neal nods and looks away. It's the answer he's expecting. Peter was responsible for him, so Peter kept him out of trouble. Simple as that- Peter would've done it for anyone. He can't resist the urge to search Peter's eyes for more, and Peter lets him, his confusion clouding Neal's assessment. "Is that all?" he finally asks, "Did it mean anything more to you?"
Peter was, again, about to answer the first question, but the second one stops him. It's his turn to search Neal's face. All the confusion clears from his face and he steps forward, wrapping Neal in his arms where anyone can walk past, like he doesn't care, like Neal means something to him. Leaning into the embrace, Neal thinks a familiar thought: not enough. It's not enough. If Peter could've kept up his promise or realized on his own or even just relented a little last night… but it's too late. He lets Peter stroke back his hair and plant a small, brief kiss on his lips. He draws what he can from it, but it's for Peter's sake that he doesn't push him away. Peter needs to believe everything's fine. Neal needs to be able to look for Kate without looking over his shoulder.
Peter draws away, a curious look in his eyes. Neal's not believable. He presses his face into Peter's shoulder to hide his contempt. Peter pats him before drawing away, with a whisper, "Later, okay? Later, I promise, but we really can't do this here."
"I know, Peter. Or prison."
He follows Peter to lunch, calculating how many days until Peter backs off enough that Neal can chase down Alex. Hopefully she's staying in New York a while.
He has Peter to himself again for a while. He's over every night, he hangs on Neal's every word, and Elizabeth doesn't have anything to say about it. It's perfect, but it's fragile. Not even fragile- it's self-depleting. It won't be long before Peter's affection burns itself out. Until Peter gives up on this insistence on spending every moment attached to Neal's side, though, Neal can't find Kate. And something a little broken in Neal won't let him push this away, no matter how fake, no matter how temporary. He revels in it, buries himself in Peter's arms and lets it be enough for now. Not enough forever, not even enough to make him reconsider, but he'll survive on this until he can look for Alex.
But Peter, smart man that he is, continues to sense something is off; it shows when he keeps making more of an effort. He finds time at work to pull Neal aside and wrap him in his arms. He makes lunch into a romantic picnic the third day. The day Neal saves Lindsay Gless from Wilkes, Peter goes all out and hugs Neal in front of everyone, pretending he's just relieved to have Neal back, not executing a plan to get Neal back to the way he was, to doing the quality of work the old Neal used to do. The gestures get gradually grander as every day he searches Neal's eyes and sees nothing there until, finally, a week since Neal gave up, Peter takes them to a hotel.
Peter lays Neal down on the bed, kisses his face, his hands, his chest. Kisses him everywhere, and Neal moans, bucks, and reacts, enjoys himself despite the emptiness of the gesture. Peter must sense something anyway and he pulls back. "Neal?"
Neal realizes with a start that he wasn't initiating any of the contact. That must've been what tipped Peter off. "Sorry, just tired," he says, but he can see in Peter's eyes that was the wrong tactic. He musters the energy to reach up and tug Peter down into a proper kiss and knows from Peter's moan that he got it right this time. He's going to have to be more careful, act like he has energy he doesn't, act like he wants Peter when he needs Kate, when Peter couldn't care less.
"Peter," he groans into Peter's lips, biting down on Peter's bottom lip, showing aggression he never had before. Peter props himself back up again.
"Neal."
"Peter."
"Neal. Stop that. What's going on?"
"You were kissing me, last I checked. Why'd that stop?"
"You bit me."
"Okay. We don't have to do that anymore." Neal winds his fingers into Peter's hair to draw him back down, but Peter jerks out of his grip with an annoyed hiss.
"That's not the point. The point is you're not a biter."
"You wouldn't know, would you?"
"I remember that night you almost ran off. You were nothing like this."
"I was desperate and not about to scare you away."
"But you don't mind now." It's not a question, but is asking for an explanation. A sturdy one, one that Peter feels he can live with. Neal knows to give him one.
"I trust you now," Neal says with absolute conviction. He himself believes it, but in a different way then it sounds. He trusts Peter to go on as he always has, trusts Peter to be warm one month and cold the next, trusts Peter to love Elizabeth like he has for over a decade, trusts him to feel nothing but responsible for Neal, not love, not lust, not even true friendship.
The only person Neal genuinely trusts now is himself. He knows himself, knows where he'll let himself down. He's never going to have a higher priority than keeping the pieces of his heart working like one whole organ. He's never going to lose himself like he's lost Peter.
So when he thrusts into Peter, he loses himself in his own head rather than losing himself in Peter. He sees all his memories of Kate plastered over Peter's face. Peter keeps poking holes in the illusion with his deep voice and lack of curves, until they take turns shuddering and coming.
Afterwards, Peter holds him and strokes his hair and Neal tries not to cry. The sex itself wasn't anything special. Both of them endured it more than enjoyed it. But this- this is what he wanted from Peter. He wanted to be held and stroked and treated as though he were worth the touch, wanted to be someone who didn't have to ask. If this would continue, if Peter would never again fail to see how broken Neal really is, this would be enough. It feels like he gets closer every time with Peter to what he needs before Peter pulls away. He believes Peter's learning, at least, what he needs, but he doesn't believe Peter will ever know.
Peter's fingers never stop moving through Neal's hair, but it's not the automatic stroking of before, they shift and curl around strands and change where they start every few strokes, finding more of Neal that hasn't been touched. Peter's present the whole time, aware and awake and trying to be something to Neal. But it's not effortless love, it's something Peter works at, pretending to love Neal. And it breaks Neal a little more to have to give this up, because it was something, and he's about to risk this on a gamble that might leave him empty handed. But Neal has always been one to try for something better when he needs it.
Besides, he knows this is as far as Peter goes. He's done the gestures, he's shown Neal he cares, there's nothing grander he can do. He's mended Neal enough that he can hold together for a few days. And in the days after that, the gestures drop off. Peter still tries to give Neal small reassurances throughout the day, but the hugs were clearly suggested by Elizabeth and the flowers bought next door. And Kate's out there.
Kate, who knows where Peter fumbles. Kate, who loves him where Peter feels responsible. Kate, who might've left him, but left a trail and would never have let him leave her without a fight.
Peter's time for Neal continues to drop off after that until Neal feels safe tracking down Alex.
She still telegraphs her marks. Neal pulls his pick pocketing stunt without feeling any of the rush it used to bring him. That's normal now, he could pick pockets in his sleep. But he doesn't feel anything about getting one over on Alex, either, and he knows he should. It's the desolation of not having someone love him. He needs Kate to feel anything at all.
At first, Alex isn't receptive. She denies everything into the ground, knowing all the while that Neal doesn't believe a word. That's partly because he's got more than half a brain, partly because he needs so desperately for Alex to have a way to Kate.
It isn't until she sees something dead about him, something in his eyes, that she's willing to talk. She doesn't spill her guts, but she's willing to hear him out. Neal tries to hide it, but while he used to be able to trick Alex with a little effort, he's not up to it today.
"This has something to do with Kate."
"Yes."
"And you just thought you'd ask your ex to help. You've got it bad, Caffrey."
Neal agrees, but before he can deny it, she sees in his eyes. And she disapproves. Watching her turn on her heel and walk away makes his heart do a funny flop in his chest.
It doesn't matter, he tells himself. There's a way to Kate, he just has to find it. Soon, though. Used to be he could wait forever. Now, though, he barely remembers who Neal Caffrey was. Someone people loved, someone people never refused, but those are facts, not a how to guide and he just doesn't think like Neal Caffrey anymore. He doesn't have his old energy, even his thoughts were slow in coming when he tried to convince Alex. He knows what he should be like, he just doesn't remember how to be himself anymore. He needs Kate by his side to even find Kate.
Neal's not given to violence, but right now, he wants to throw something, scream, throw a childish fit. He doesn't; he just balls his hands into fists and walks off, but when he calms down, he feels even more lost. Anger isn't something he does when things don't go his way. Whoever he is, he's not Neal Caffrey anymore.
He's not Neal Caffrey, because Neal Caffrey knew how to be whatever he needed to be. Neal doesn't know what this situation requires any more. Being him- it's not as simple as building a billionaire or flattering a pretty woman. Neal withdraws into himself.
These days, it isn't Peter who is inattentive in their relationship. It's Neal. He stares out the window and watches the rain rather than listen to Peter. When Peter taps him on the shoulder, he turns, but his attention is still turned inward.
"Neal."
Peter leans down and hugs him- in the office with people walking by. Neal recoils, trying to spring back but Peter tightens his arms and Neal was unprepared for it. "What are you doing?!"
"Hugging you. Just- relax."
"Peter, stop, stop, people are looking."
"I couldn't care less. Neal, I'm sorry, whatever's wrong, we'll-"
"Please let go."
Peter releases him, only to lean forward, grab Neal by the shoulders and look him directly in the eyes to say, "I love you. More than this job, far more. I didn't realize I was worse than prison, but I'm going to fix this, I-"
Neal clears his throat. "You're not worse than prison."
"Thanks," Peter mutters before starting back in earnest, "You need to know: I'm sorry, I'll do whatever it takes to fix it."
Neal stares. It's possible Peter loves him, but he's been with Peter all through losing his grip on himself. Even if he wanted Peter, he needs Kate.
"There's nothing to fix, Peter."
"Clearly there is, since you've been meeting with some woman."
"Jealous?"
"Concerned. Don't do anything stupid, Neal. Please."
Ah, so that's what had Peter concerned: Neal straying from the straight and narrow. Neal didn't know what to say to that. At a loss for words, never mind witty remarks, Neal says nothing. Peter, satisfied with that answer as he'd never been with anything Neal said, backs off. Peter trusts the new Neal. Neal doesn't.
Neal wishes he knew what he'd usually feel when he sees how annoyed Alex is to have Neal harassing her. Annoyed back? Gleeful? Determined? He can't even fathom. And this seems to irritate Alex further, how ambivalent Neal is. She liked Neal the playful thief, not the sad, heartbroken fool.
She tries to tempt him with skinny dipping, has Neal strip for her. She presents it as a precaution, but Neal knows- she wants something more. When Alex runs her hands across his chest, he's more aware of his heart beat than he has been since he stopped letting Peter toy with it by making it race with hope, lust, need, and love and then discarding it before making it race again.
But, since he proved he could get out of the tracker when he showed up after being kidnapped, she tells him: it's in the Italian consulate.
Kate. Neal closed his eyes and remembered laughing with her. Remembered being carefree with her. Remembered not needing anything more than what he had. Maybe it was because he didn't yet know what else was out there, but there had to be some of that feeling with her still. He was going to find Kate.
Alex punched him in the arm to get him to open his eyes. For the first time in a long time, he smiled a mischievous smile. Alex smiled back.
Even just thinking about Kate was like getting back a piece of himself.
Planning for the heist has a vibe of preparing for a home coming. Kate's coming home, if only he can do this one thing. Kate's coming home to him.
He feels like a fake version of the old Neal when he plots out their route through holes in the security and tricks and a Trojan horse move that would've had him inwardly preening before, but now it just impresses him that it ever occurred to him.
Through the entire heist, Neal's heart beats quicker than normal with the knowledge that every move he made was dedicated to Kate. In his mind, he raises his glass to her.
And then, finally, finally, after looking for it for so long and needing it so badly and wanting what it meant so much, the music box is in his hands. He has it. The key to Kate. His smile didn't feel tight in the corners or stuck on his face for the first time in years.
Neal packs in the music box and then runs out.
That's when Alex stabs him in the back. His options are chase after her and let Mozzie get caught or let the music box go. He snatches up that key card and rushes out after Alex.
He chases her down the hallway, gaining quickly on her attempt to trot in heels. He knows the old Neal wouldn't have tackled Alex, would've maybe cornered her or grabbed her arm, but that music box wouldn't escape him, not after everything.
So he tackles her, careful to keep her from landing on the music box. They tumble to the floor just out of sight of the doors the security is trapped behind, but not out of earshot of Mozzie's stuttered explanation. Neal recoveres first, perhaps because of how shocked Alex is, and snatches up the bag before doubling back and exiting the way they'd agreed, leaving the double crosser to her own devices and Mozzie to security. But he has the music box. He has it, he has it, he'd have Kate soon.
If Mozzie's desperate cries for Neal as he'd chased after Alex echo in his ears and the shocked look on Alex's face when she found out Neal was capable of being violent wouldn't leave his mind, well, it's the price he pays. Nothing worth having comes easy. And Kate- Kate is worth the world, never mind a friend and a code of honor.
Peter is in his apartment when he returns. Neal breezes in, music box in his hands and grin plastered on his face. Peter looked absolutely crushed. "There's an APB out for a man of interest in a slick suit. Apparently he propelled down the wall of a consulate. Also, they're shipping a short, balding man back to Italy to try him for trespassing, breaking and entering, and about a hundred other things."
Neal doesn't know what to say. Peter's accusing, disappointed eyes track the bag in his hands. "I was wrong about you."
"How's that?"
"I didn't have you pegged as the type of guy who'd throw his friend to the wolves."
"They're law enforcement, Peter. You've faith in law enforcement, right? He'll be fine."
"It's torture for him and you know it, Neal."
Neal hugs the music box to his chest. Mozzie hadn't even tried to rescue Neal from the losing his identity, hadn't even been a shoulder to cry on when he'd given up on Peter. But, looking in Peter's eyes, he realizes now what he would've done if he were still himself. He wouldn't have tackled Alex, but he also wouldn't have cornered her. He'd never have chased her in the first place. His arms tighten around the music box as the guilt floods him.
Mozzie. He subjected Moz to his worse nightmare without a second thought- no, without any thought at all. He saw the music box slipping through his fingers and Moz hadn't even crossed his mind. It never even occurred to him that's what he should've done: save his friend.
Peter's face softens as he watches the guilt hit Neal. He stands and unwraps Neal's arms from the music box, setting it aside on the table. Neal's eyes follow it until Peter folds Neal into an embrace. "I'm sorry. I know you had to choose." He strokes a hand down Neal's face and leans in until their foreheads touch. "I know it wasn't easy."
The problem is that it had been easy, but Neal nods and allows Peter to rock him getly. The new Neal is a horrible person, but Peter doesn't need to know. This betrayer of friends will die a quick death when he has Kate back, will disappear so that the person that he was could live again.
"I know, I know," Peter murmurs even though he doesn't know a thing. Neal refuses to relax into his embrace, stiffened by the guilt about what he did. Mozzie would never forgive him. He didn't deserve to be forgiven. Against Kate- well, Kate was in trouble.
And… he'd never have seen Alex again if he'd let her disappear. Mozzie might be let go, one day, but Kate needed him now. She was in danger now. Mozzie had the law both protecting and prosecuting him. Kate only had him. And he only had Kate. He relaxed into Peter's arms. He doesn't know why the tears that Peter kisses away fall from his eyes.
He hands over the music box to a pleased Fowler. And Fowler hands him Kate. She's already on a plane, ready to start a new life with him. Not only can he get her and himself back, he can leave Peter and the FBI behind. Like the horror of the past few months can just be erased. He'd be well and truly free. All of this would fade like a bad dream.
Even though he takes a cab, he arrives at the airport as breathless as if he'd run there. And there- there's Kate. Neal already feels whole again. Kate's all he needs. He doesn't need Peter and his promises and his wife's pitying looks. He doesn't need the FBI and the straight and narrow; Kate will love him without that.
"Neal!"
Peter? No, no! "You here to arrest me?" If he tries, Neal is going to fight him tooth and nail because he's not giving Kate up, not for anything. Not for "love," friendship, or the straight and narrow but safe and calm life Peter wants him to live. There's nothing he trade now.
But Peter knows something is wrong, that something has been wrong for weeks. "I'm still a civilian," he says, which means, no. It also means Peter is here to talk him out of it. Neal turns and boards the plane. He won't hear a word of it, he refuses.
He hugs Kate, smells her hair again, hears her say, "I love you," again. She'll love him. She won't require him to beg before she'll hold him, she won't lock him out of her life ever, and she certainly won't expect him to sit by while she gets hurt. She'll love him.
He sits down next to her and relaxes.
Peter jogged up onto the plane. "Neal!"
Neal whipped around. "Peter."
Peter threw a distrustful look at Kate. "Can I talk to you outside?"
Neal hesitated, looking at Kate. He didn't wan to leave her, not for a second. He felt whole beside her as he hadn't in weeks. But she nodded, smiling, knowing that he needed to hear what Peter had to say. Kate understood him like no one else and her go-ahead decided him.
They got just far enough from the plane to be able to hear each other over the noise of the plane engine.
"Neal, look I-" The plane exploded. Fiery chunks of metal rained down, knocking Neal off his feet with the force of the blast.
"NO! No! No!" Neal screamed, running into Peter's arm on the way to the plane, struggling, trying desperately to get to Kate. Because she couldn't be gone. Not dead, not gone forever, not Kate, no, no, no, please. No.
"Get back!" And then, after a while: "Shhh, shhh, Neal, calm down, calm down."
Several minutes later, Neal slumped in Peter's arms, adrenaline gone and shakes setting in.
"Shhh, shhh…" Peter drew Neal to his chest and rocked Neal back and forth. At least he didn't say anything like "It's going to be okay" or "You're fine" or something equally condescending and moronic, because Neal honestly didn't know when he'd do them. He didn't know anything anymore. The only person who knew the real him, who he knew how to act like himself around was dead. She was dead. And now, so was the Neal everyone knew.
Peter had watched love do a lot of things to Neal, most of them cruel. He'd watched it make Neal restless and stupid, and then desperate and lonely and, recently, not himself. He never expected the spark in Neal's eyes to die completely: he expected sometimes it would burn exhaustively, feverishly bright and sometimes shrink until it could barely survive, but still be just a breath away from burning bright again.
But die it did. It died the day Kate did. Neal became listless and stopped doing anything he wasn't expressly told to do. Peter had to order Neal to brush his hair in the mornings. It was a good morning when Neal summoned the energy to ask, "Why?" ("Because you're not showing up to work looking like you're homeless, that's why." And Neal had nothing to say about his Devore clothes to that); it was a bad day when Neal just did as Peter said without asking.
Neal was liable to lay in bed all day and infuriate Hughes and the higher ups with his shoddy attendance record, so Peter had pick him up each morning. And every single morning without fail he made it a point to hold Neal and whisper to him how he'd be fine, how Peter was here and not going anywhere, and how Neal was a wonderful, strong, and precious person.
Peter was the one abandoned with Neal in his arms. Neal was absent, his eyes staring off into nothing. On those rare good days, Peter imagined Neal was with Kate in his mind. On the bad ones, he admitted that Neal was not here, not anywhere- he was gone.
Elizabeth looks like she's about to call Peter back, but she glances back at Neal as she trots after Peter, and shuts the door behind him instead. She sits down on the couch and tries her best to pull Neal into a hug, but he ducks out of her arms with a winning smile. "Its fine, Elizabeth. I just don't like being lied to. Ironic, I suppose, even hypocritical, but I don't need to be babied over it."
Elizabeth doesn't look like she was buying it, but Neal is tired of fighting Peter for every scrap of affection from their table. He just wants today to be over with. He musters the last of his energy and drops his smile a few degrees so that it looks a little sad, a little injured, but gives the impression that he'll recover on his own if he has a little space and a little time. El looks really hard at him, but she doesn't see past the mask. She reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind Neal's ear as she studies him, and he doesn't lean into it, resists pleading for more by the skin of his teeth.
When El gets up to follow Peter out the door, he can still feel the heat of her finger lingering on his cheek, a tiny spot of warmth that has him reconsidering- but El has her own life and can be territorial at times. He won't risk asking, not when, at best, he'll end up in the same position in a few months.
He watches El leave feeling that same duality to his feelings, the longing to call her back and the satisfaction that she believed him, accompanied by the relief and hurt that he's finally truly alone. He curls up on the couch, doesn't even make it to the bed. Memories of Kate fill his mind, and even though he knows even she won't be enough anymore, she's all he has. Had. He had her. He needs her. He reaches for the phone and only keeps just enough of the listlessness from his voice to fool Mozz when he asks him what they've got on Alex's location. He doesn't even finish the conversation. The moment he hears she's in the city, he lowers the phone to the table. Let Mozzie think he's fallen asleep, he doesn't care.
The idea of touching himself, of grabbing at the heady, satisfying feeling, never crosses his mind. He doesn't have the energy. He ends up falling asleep before Mozz finishes talking, anyway, so at least that's one person he's not lying to. Yet.
At work, Peter is normal, unaffected. Neal drags himself through the day, tries to look like he cares about the cases that used to excite and thrill him. Tries to pretend he doesn't feel like his limbs weigh three times what they should, tries to pretend there isn't a pit of dread in his stomach. To him, everything he does seems a little off, but unless his ability to read people has suddenly deserted him, he does a convincing job of being the Neal Caffrey everyone thinks they know.
It isn't until Peter throws an arm around his shoulder and starts marching them off to lunch like they're old friends that Neal breaks character and ducks out of Peter's friendly arm. "Neal?"
Neal has to shake off his stupor and pretend everything's all right even when it feels like he just broke straight through a safety net and can't know how far away the ground is, has no idea if the net slowed him enough that he'll survive the plummet uninjured. His smile must be a little shaky, because Peter clamps a hand down on his arm and pulls him aside.
"What is wrong with you?"
"What's wrong with me?" Neal hisses, anger swelling up out of nowhere. "What's wrong with you?" His voice shakes as he continues, "I asked just for a little time, a little- you think of me as an asset you're required to treat humanely, don't you?" Peter's about to say yes, but Neal plows on, "That's why you agreed, isn't it? To humor me?"
"No!"
"Then why?"
"Because you were going to throw your life away!"
Neal nods and looks away. It's the answer he's expecting. Peter was responsible for him, so Peter kept him out of trouble. Simple as that- Peter would've done it for anyone. He can't resist the urge to search Peter's eyes for more, and Peter lets him, his confusion clouding Neal's assessment. "Is that all?" he finally asks, "Did it mean anything more to you?"
Peter was, again, about to answer the first question, but the second one stops him. It's his turn to search Neal's face. All the confusion clears from his face and he steps forward, wrapping Neal in his arms where anyone can walk past, like he doesn't care, like Neal means something to him. Leaning into the embrace, Neal thinks a familiar thought: not enough. It's not enough. If Peter could've kept up his promise or realized on his own or even just relented a little last night… but it's too late. He lets Peter stroke back his hair and plant a small, brief kiss on his lips. He draws what he can from it, but it's for Peter's sake that he doesn't push him away. Peter needs to believe everything's fine. Neal needs to be able to look for Kate without looking over his shoulder.
Peter draws away, a curious look in his eyes. Neal's not believable. He presses his face into Peter's shoulder to hide his contempt. Peter pats him before drawing away, with a whisper, "Later, okay? Later, I promise, but we really can't do this here."
"I know, Peter. Or prison."
He follows Peter to lunch, calculating how many days until Peter backs off enough that Neal can chase down Alex. Hopefully she's staying in New York a while.
He has Peter to himself again for a while. He's over every night, he hangs on Neal's every word, and Elizabeth doesn't have anything to say about it. It's perfect, but it's fragile. Not even fragile- it's self-depleting. It won't be long before Peter's affection burns itself out. Until Peter gives up on this insistence on spending every moment attached to Neal's side, though, Neal can't find Kate. And something a little broken in Neal won't let him push this away, no matter how fake, no matter how temporary. He revels in it, buries himself in Peter's arms and lets it be enough for now. Not enough forever, not even enough to make him reconsider, but he'll survive on this until he can look for Alex.
But Peter, smart man that he is, continues to sense something is off; it shows when he keeps making more of an effort. He finds time at work to pull Neal aside and wrap him in his arms. He makes lunch into a romantic picnic the third day. The day Neal saves Lindsay Gless from Wilkes, Peter goes all out and hugs Neal in front of everyone, pretending he's just relieved to have Neal back, not executing a plan to get Neal back to the way he was, to doing the quality of work the old Neal used to do. The gestures get gradually grander as every day he searches Neal's eyes and sees nothing there until, finally, a week since Neal gave up, Peter takes them to a hotel.
Peter lays Neal down on the bed, kisses his face, his hands, his chest. Kisses him everywhere, and Neal moans, bucks, and reacts, enjoys himself despite the emptiness of the gesture. Peter must sense something anyway and he pulls back. "Neal?"
Neal realizes with a start that he wasn't initiating any of the contact. That must've been what tipped Peter off. "Sorry, just tired," he says, but he can see in Peter's eyes that was the wrong tactic. He musters the energy to reach up and tug Peter down into a proper kiss and knows from Peter's moan that he got it right this time. He's going to have to be more careful, act like he has energy he doesn't, act like he wants Peter when he needs Kate, when Peter couldn't care less.
"Peter," he groans into Peter's lips, biting down on Peter's bottom lip, showing aggression he never had before. Peter props himself back up again.
"Neal."
"Peter."
"Neal. Stop that. What's going on?"
"You were kissing me, last I checked. Why'd that stop?"
"You bit me."
"Okay. We don't have to do that anymore." Neal winds his fingers into Peter's hair to draw him back down, but Peter jerks out of his grip with an annoyed hiss.
"That's not the point. The point is you're not a biter."
"You wouldn't know, would you?"
"I remember that night you almost ran off. You were nothing like this."
"I was desperate and not about to scare you away."
"But you don't mind now." It's not a question, but is asking for an explanation. A sturdy one, one that Peter feels he can live with. Neal knows to give him one.
"I trust you now," Neal says with absolute conviction. He himself believes it, but in a different way then it sounds. He trusts Peter to go on as he always has, trusts Peter to be warm one month and cold the next, trusts Peter to love Elizabeth like he has for over a decade, trusts him to feel nothing but responsible for Neal, not love, not lust, not even true friendship.
The only person Neal genuinely trusts now is himself. He knows himself, knows where he'll let himself down. He's never going to have a higher priority than keeping the pieces of his heart working like one whole organ. He's never going to lose himself like he's lost Peter.
So when he thrusts into Peter, he loses himself in his own head rather than losing himself in Peter. He sees all his memories of Kate plastered over Peter's face. Peter keeps poking holes in the illusion with his deep voice and lack of curves, until they take turns shuddering and coming.
Afterwards, Peter holds him and strokes his hair and Neal tries not to cry. The sex itself wasn't anything special. Both of them endured it more than enjoyed it. But this- this is what he wanted from Peter. He wanted to be held and stroked and treated as though he were worth the touch, wanted to be someone who didn't have to ask. If this would continue, if Peter would never again fail to see how broken Neal really is, this would be enough. It feels like he gets closer every time with Peter to what he needs before Peter pulls away. He believes Peter's learning, at least, what he needs, but he doesn't believe Peter will ever know.
Peter's fingers never stop moving through Neal's hair, but it's not the automatic stroking of before, they shift and curl around strands and change where they start every few strokes, finding more of Neal that hasn't been touched. Peter's present the whole time, aware and awake and trying to be something to Neal. But it's not effortless love, it's something Peter works at, pretending to love Neal. And it breaks Neal a little more to have to give this up, because it was something, and he's about to risk this on a gamble that might leave him empty handed. But Neal has always been one to try for something better when he needs it.
Besides, he knows this is as far as Peter goes. He's done the gestures, he's shown Neal he cares, there's nothing grander he can do. He's mended Neal enough that he can hold together for a few days. And in the days after that, the gestures drop off. Peter still tries to give Neal small reassurances throughout the day, but the hugs were clearly suggested by Elizabeth and the flowers bought next door. And Kate's out there.
Kate, who knows where Peter fumbles. Kate, who loves him where Peter feels responsible. Kate, who might've left him, but left a trail and would never have let him leave her without a fight.
Peter's time for Neal continues to drop off after that until Neal feels safe tracking down Alex.
She still telegraphs her marks. Neal pulls his pick pocketing stunt without feeling any of the rush it used to bring him. That's normal now, he could pick pockets in his sleep. But he doesn't feel anything about getting one over on Alex, either, and he knows he should. It's the desolation of not having someone love him. He needs Kate to feel anything at all.
At first, Alex isn't receptive. She denies everything into the ground, knowing all the while that Neal doesn't believe a word. That's partly because he's got more than half a brain, partly because he needs so desperately for Alex to have a way to Kate.
It isn't until she sees something dead about him, something in his eyes, that she's willing to talk. She doesn't spill her guts, but she's willing to hear him out. Neal tries to hide it, but while he used to be able to trick Alex with a little effort, he's not up to it today.
"This has something to do with Kate."
"Yes."
"And you just thought you'd ask your ex to help. You've got it bad, Caffrey."
Neal agrees, but before he can deny it, she sees in his eyes. And she disapproves. Watching her turn on her heel and walk away makes his heart do a funny flop in his chest.
It doesn't matter, he tells himself. There's a way to Kate, he just has to find it. Soon, though. Used to be he could wait forever. Now, though, he barely remembers who Neal Caffrey was. Someone people loved, someone people never refused, but those are facts, not a how to guide and he just doesn't think like Neal Caffrey anymore. He doesn't have his old energy, even his thoughts were slow in coming when he tried to convince Alex. He knows what he should be like, he just doesn't remember how to be himself anymore. He needs Kate by his side to even find Kate.
Neal's not given to violence, but right now, he wants to throw something, scream, throw a childish fit. He doesn't; he just balls his hands into fists and walks off, but when he calms down, he feels even more lost. Anger isn't something he does when things don't go his way. Whoever he is, he's not Neal Caffrey anymore.
He's not Neal Caffrey, because Neal Caffrey knew how to be whatever he needed to be. Neal doesn't know what this situation requires any more. Being him- it's not as simple as building a billionaire or flattering a pretty woman. Neal withdraws into himself.
These days, it isn't Peter who is inattentive in their relationship. It's Neal. He stares out the window and watches the rain rather than listen to Peter. When Peter taps him on the shoulder, he turns, but his attention is still turned inward.
"Neal."
Peter leans down and hugs him- in the office with people walking by. Neal recoils, trying to spring back but Peter tightens his arms and Neal was unprepared for it. "What are you doing?!"
"Hugging you. Just- relax."
"Peter, stop, stop, people are looking."
"I couldn't care less. Neal, I'm sorry, whatever's wrong, we'll-"
"Please let go."
Peter releases him, only to lean forward, grab Neal by the shoulders and look him directly in the eyes to say, "I love you. More than this job, far more. I didn't realize I was worse than prison, but I'm going to fix this, I-"
Neal clears his throat. "You're not worse than prison."
"Thanks," Peter mutters before starting back in earnest, "You need to know: I'm sorry, I'll do whatever it takes to fix it."
Neal stares. It's possible Peter loves him, but he's been with Peter all through losing his grip on himself. Even if he wanted Peter, he needs Kate.
"There's nothing to fix, Peter."
"Clearly there is, since you've been meeting with some woman."
"Jealous?"
"Concerned. Don't do anything stupid, Neal. Please."
Ah, so that's what had Peter concerned: Neal straying from the straight and narrow. Neal didn't know what to say to that. At a loss for words, never mind witty remarks, Neal says nothing. Peter, satisfied with that answer as he'd never been with anything Neal said, backs off. Peter trusts the new Neal. Neal doesn't.
Neal wishes he knew what he'd usually feel when he sees how annoyed Alex is to have Neal harassing her. Annoyed back? Gleeful? Determined? He can't even fathom. And this seems to irritate Alex further, how ambivalent Neal is. She liked Neal the playful thief, not the sad, heartbroken fool.
She tries to tempt him with skinny dipping, has Neal strip for her. She presents it as a precaution, but Neal knows- she wants something more. When Alex runs her hands across his chest, he's more aware of his heart beat than he has been since he stopped letting Peter toy with it by making it race with hope, lust, need, and love and then discarding it before making it race again.
But, since he proved he could get out of the tracker when he showed up after being kidnapped, she tells him: it's in the Italian consulate.
Kate. Neal closed his eyes and remembered laughing with her. Remembered being carefree with her. Remembered not needing anything more than what he had. Maybe it was because he didn't yet know what else was out there, but there had to be some of that feeling with her still. He was going to find Kate.
Alex punched him in the arm to get him to open his eyes. For the first time in a long time, he smiled a mischievous smile. Alex smiled back.
Even just thinking about Kate was like getting back a piece of himself.
Planning for the heist has a vibe of preparing for a home coming. Kate's coming home, if only he can do this one thing. Kate's coming home to him.
He feels like a fake version of the old Neal when he plots out their route through holes in the security and tricks and a Trojan horse move that would've had him inwardly preening before, but now it just impresses him that it ever occurred to him.
Through the entire heist, Neal's heart beats quicker than normal with the knowledge that every move he made was dedicated to Kate. In his mind, he raises his glass to her.
And then, finally, finally, after looking for it for so long and needing it so badly and wanting what it meant so much, the music box is in his hands. He has it. The key to Kate. His smile didn't feel tight in the corners or stuck on his face for the first time in years.
Neal packs in the music box and then runs out.
That's when Alex stabs him in the back. His options are chase after her and let Mozzie get caught or let the music box go. He snatches up that key card and rushes out after Alex.
He chases her down the hallway, gaining quickly on her attempt to trot in heels. He knows the old Neal wouldn't have tackled Alex, would've maybe cornered her or grabbed her arm, but that music box wouldn't escape him, not after everything.
So he tackles her, careful to keep her from landing on the music box. They tumble to the floor just out of sight of the doors the security is trapped behind, but not out of earshot of Mozzie's stuttered explanation. Neal recoveres first, perhaps because of how shocked Alex is, and snatches up the bag before doubling back and exiting the way they'd agreed, leaving the double crosser to her own devices and Mozzie to security. But he has the music box. He has it, he has it, he'd have Kate soon.
If Mozzie's desperate cries for Neal as he'd chased after Alex echo in his ears and the shocked look on Alex's face when she found out Neal was capable of being violent wouldn't leave his mind, well, it's the price he pays. Nothing worth having comes easy. And Kate- Kate is worth the world, never mind a friend and a code of honor.
Peter is in his apartment when he returns. Neal breezes in, music box in his hands and grin plastered on his face. Peter looked absolutely crushed. "There's an APB out for a man of interest in a slick suit. Apparently he propelled down the wall of a consulate. Also, they're shipping a short, balding man back to Italy to try him for trespassing, breaking and entering, and about a hundred other things."
Neal doesn't know what to say. Peter's accusing, disappointed eyes track the bag in his hands. "I was wrong about you."
"How's that?"
"I didn't have you pegged as the type of guy who'd throw his friend to the wolves."
"They're law enforcement, Peter. You've faith in law enforcement, right? He'll be fine."
"It's torture for him and you know it, Neal."
Neal hugs the music box to his chest. Mozzie hadn't even tried to rescue Neal from the losing his identity, hadn't even been a shoulder to cry on when he'd given up on Peter. But, looking in Peter's eyes, he realizes now what he would've done if he were still himself. He wouldn't have tackled Alex, but he also wouldn't have cornered her. He'd never have chased her in the first place. His arms tighten around the music box as the guilt floods him.
Mozzie. He subjected Moz to his worse nightmare without a second thought- no, without any thought at all. He saw the music box slipping through his fingers and Moz hadn't even crossed his mind. It never even occurred to him that's what he should've done: save his friend.
Peter's face softens as he watches the guilt hit Neal. He stands and unwraps Neal's arms from the music box, setting it aside on the table. Neal's eyes follow it until Peter folds Neal into an embrace. "I'm sorry. I know you had to choose." He strokes a hand down Neal's face and leans in until their foreheads touch. "I know it wasn't easy."
The problem is that it had been easy, but Neal nods and allows Peter to rock him getly. The new Neal is a horrible person, but Peter doesn't need to know. This betrayer of friends will die a quick death when he has Kate back, will disappear so that the person that he was could live again.
"I know, I know," Peter murmurs even though he doesn't know a thing. Neal refuses to relax into his embrace, stiffened by the guilt about what he did. Mozzie would never forgive him. He didn't deserve to be forgiven. Against Kate- well, Kate was in trouble.
And… he'd never have seen Alex again if he'd let her disappear. Mozzie might be let go, one day, but Kate needed him now. She was in danger now. Mozzie had the law both protecting and prosecuting him. Kate only had him. And he only had Kate. He relaxed into Peter's arms. He doesn't know why the tears that Peter kisses away fall from his eyes.
He hands over the music box to a pleased Fowler. And Fowler hands him Kate. She's already on a plane, ready to start a new life with him. Not only can he get her and himself back, he can leave Peter and the FBI behind. Like the horror of the past few months can just be erased. He'd be well and truly free. All of this would fade like a bad dream.
Even though he takes a cab, he arrives at the airport as breathless as if he'd run there. And there- there's Kate. Neal already feels whole again. Kate's all he needs. He doesn't need Peter and his promises and his wife's pitying looks. He doesn't need the FBI and the straight and narrow; Kate will love him without that.
"Neal!"
Peter? No, no! "You here to arrest me?" If he tries, Neal is going to fight him tooth and nail because he's not giving Kate up, not for anything. Not for "love," friendship, or the straight and narrow but safe and calm life Peter wants him to live. There's nothing he trade now.
But Peter knows something is wrong, that something has been wrong for weeks. "I'm still a civilian," he says, which means, no. It also means Peter is here to talk him out of it. Neal turns and boards the plane. He won't hear a word of it, he refuses.
He hugs Kate, smells her hair again, hears her say, "I love you," again. She'll love him. She won't require him to beg before she'll hold him, she won't lock him out of her life ever, and she certainly won't expect him to sit by while she gets hurt. She'll love him.
He sits down next to her and relaxes.
Peter jogged up onto the plane. "Neal!"
Neal whipped around. "Peter."
Peter threw a distrustful look at Kate. "Can I talk to you outside?"
Neal hesitated, looking at Kate. He didn't wan to leave her, not for a second. He felt whole beside her as he hadn't in weeks. But she nodded, smiling, knowing that he needed to hear what Peter had to say. Kate understood him like no one else and her go-ahead decided him.
They got just far enough from the plane to be able to hear each other over the noise of the plane engine.
"Neal, look I-" The plane exploded. Fiery chunks of metal rained down, knocking Neal off his feet with the force of the blast.
"NO! No! No!" Neal screamed, running into Peter's arm on the way to the plane, struggling, trying desperately to get to Kate. Because she couldn't be gone. Not dead, not gone forever, not Kate, no, no, no, please. No.
"Get back!" And then, after a while: "Shhh, shhh, Neal, calm down, calm down."
Several minutes later, Neal slumped in Peter's arms, adrenaline gone and shakes setting in.
"Shhh, shhh…" Peter drew Neal to his chest and rocked Neal back and forth. At least he didn't say anything like "It's going to be okay" or "You're fine" or something equally condescending and moronic, because Neal honestly didn't know when he'd do them. He didn't know anything anymore. The only person who knew the real him, who he knew how to act like himself around was dead. She was dead. And now, so was the Neal everyone knew.
Peter had watched love do a lot of things to Neal, most of them cruel. He'd watched it make Neal restless and stupid, and then desperate and lonely and, recently, not himself. He never expected the spark in Neal's eyes to die completely: he expected sometimes it would burn exhaustively, feverishly bright and sometimes shrink until it could barely survive, but still be just a breath away from burning bright again.
But die it did. It died the day Kate did. Neal became listless and stopped doing anything he wasn't expressly told to do. Peter had to order Neal to brush his hair in the mornings. It was a good morning when Neal summoned the energy to ask, "Why?" ("Because you're not showing up to work looking like you're homeless, that's why." And Neal had nothing to say about his Devore clothes to that); it was a bad day when Neal just did as Peter said without asking.
Neal was liable to lay in bed all day and infuriate Hughes and the higher ups with his shoddy attendance record, so Peter had pick him up each morning. And every single morning without fail he made it a point to hold Neal and whisper to him how he'd be fine, how Peter was here and not going anywhere, and how Neal was a wonderful, strong, and precious person.
Peter was the one abandoned with Neal in his arms. Neal was absent, his eyes staring off into nothing. On those rare good days, Peter imagined Neal was with Kate in his mind. On the bad ones, he admitted that Neal was not here, not anywhere- he was gone.