[Fanfiction] A Man of Two Worlds
Title: A Man of Two Worlds
Author: Aragarna
Characters: Peter, El, Mozzie, Jones, Diana
Genre, rating: angst and comfort, episode tag, gen, G.
Word count: 2250
Spoilers: The entire show, mainly the finale episode.
Summary: Even in death, Neal manages to be a bridge between two worlds.
Author's Note: This is based on a terrific idea from sheenianni. And many thanks to the always awesome reve_silencieux for the cheerleading and the beta work! :)
A Man of Two Worlds.
It was a lovely day, sunny, with a clear blue sky, yet not too hot, thanks to a slight breeze gently shaking the tree leaves. Such a freaking beautiful day.
If it had been a movie, it would have been raining. It would have been a grey and cold day, to reflect Peter’s broken and cold soul. But this was not a movie, this was real life. Neal was really dead, and yet his death apparently didn’t prevent the Earth from spinning, and the sun from shining. It was like the world didn’t care, which only added to Peter’s desperate loneliness.
Peter had been on auto-pilot through the whole ceremony. He had done his part, gave a little speech - short, flat. At least he had held it together long enough. The speech didn’t do justice to Neal, to their friendship, but it was just too soon, the pain was still too raw. Peter couldn’t put his heart in it, because his heart was lying in pieces in his chest.
Now, standing in front of the grave, he just felt numb, empty, and exhausted from all the pain. He was done crying, done screaming on the inside. He just wanted it to be over, to go home and let El take care of him, let the flow of the world carry him.
It was a small crowd. Neal had only a few friends. Besides El and June and a couple of people Peter didn't recognize, most of the crowd was from the FBI. Jones and Diana had come, of course, but also a lot of people from the White Collar division, which Peter would have found touching, if he had any emotion left. Even Reese Hughes was there to pay homage to his late consultant.
They started covering the coffin with dirt, and to Peter it felt like they were burying a part of himself. He looked away, into the far distance, trying not to think of Neal’s body lying in there.
As his gaze distractingly wandered to the horizon, a moving shadow at the far end of the cemetery caught his attention. Looking around more carefully, Peter noticed several figures standing at a respectful distance in the shade of the trees. Scanning this discreet crowd, Peter thought he recognized Mozzie’s familiar figure. He nodded lightly, and the shadow nodded back. They were Neal’s friends from the other side. They didn't want to mix with the present company, but they still came to pay tribute to their fallen brother.
Neal Caffrey, a man of two worlds.
A nudge to his elbow startled Peter. The ceremony was over, people were leaving. A few of them came to shake Peter's hands. He accepted their condolences without a word, a fake smile plastered on his face.
"A bunch of us were thinking of going to the pub at the corner," Jones said, pointing to somewhere beyond the cemetery.
Peter gave him a tired look. He could use a drink. Or drinks. And maybe it'd be better to be surrounded by people than facing his misery by himself. He glanced at Elizabeth to see how she felt about it. She nodded and gave him a small smile. She looked tired, her cheeks marked by dried tears. He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close, kissing her delicately on her forehead. Turning to his agents, he shrugged his agreement and they followed them to the bar.
When they arrived there was already a group of a dozen people occupying the back of the place. As the group of law enforcement officers stepped in, the conversations suddenly stopped and they all turned around, sending the agents sideway looks and whispering between themselves.
Among them was Mozzie, two glasses of wine in front of him - one already empty, the other one not far from joining the first one. He exchanged a look with Peter. They stared at each other for a moment, both men a little unsure whether they should acknowledge knowing each other in public. But a day like today, what others might think didn’t matter, today was about Neal. And Peter and Mozzie would never have met without Neal.
“Suit,” Mozzie said soberly.
“Moz,” Peter nodded back.
A few of Mozzie’s companions exchanged inquisitive looks.
“Mozzie is acquainted with the pigs?” someone whispered.
Mozzie turned back to his friends and grinned mysteriously. “We all have our ways. How do you think I’ve never been caught?”
Peter rolled his eyes and joined his own team. The White Collar agents were taking over the tables by the windows, rearranging them so that everyone could sit together.
Jones and Diana brought the drinks and they made a toast to Neal.
“To Neal Caffrey, a hell of a good consultant,” Hughes said.
“And a good friend,” Elizabeth added.
“And the worst stakeout partner,” Diana said with a grin.
Everyone chuckled.
“He would keep playing with everything he could find in the van. A pen, a pair of handcuffs, anything. It drove me crazy.”
“And he kept suggesting ‘improvements’,” Jones added.
Diana rolled her eyes. “He was adamant about adding one of those air fresheners.”
“You can’t blame him, though,” Hughes intervened. “The van is definitely not the most pleasant place to be.”
Jones shrugged. “I like the van.”
“And you’re the only one,” Diana teased.
“I don’t mind the van,” Peter said with a shrug. “Nor the stakeouts with Neal.”
“Until the moment he’d sneak out of the van and crash the scene,” Jones countered. “Remember that time when he rescued Diana who was undercover as an escort.”
Diana winced at the memory. A couple of probies turned to her, their eyes glittering with hope, eager to hear more about the story, but Diana shook her head. “I’d rather not talk about it. The champagne bath was nice though.”
Peter almost choked on his beer. “That wasn’t in the report.”
Diana grinned. “I believe we agreed to put it under Miscellaneous room expenses,” she quoted from the report.
Peter rolled his eyes. “I didn’t hear that.”
“Though we have to admit he was of great help. Always had your back,” Diana said.
“Is that why you saved him from humiliation at that dating auction?” Jones grinned.
Diana smiled softly. “He had my back, I had his.”
“Details!” a probie exclaimed.
“Well, Jones, Peter and Neal went to one of those high-end dating auctions, where rich ladies bet on men. The plan was that our suspected black widow would pick one of them. So Neal had to be his most insufferable self - more than usual - to make sure the other ladies wouldn’t all fall for him… But his plan worked too well, and the black widow found him too young, she picked Peter instead.”
“Clearly a woman of taste,” Elizabeth said, squeezing Peter’s hand.
“And a murderer,” Peter groaned.
“You guys sure know how to make a case exciting,” the probie said.
Peter, Jones and Diana smiled nostalgically, remembering the good old days. Oh, it never was without any danger or less glorious times, but in the end, the ups prevailed over the downs. No matter the secret schemes Neal had on the side, no matter how off script he’d go during the cases, Diana was right, Neal always had their backs. He did play for the team, and he was a great asset.
As the silence settled, they caught the animated conversation coming from the other group.
A tall woman with fair hair and a distinctive British accent was in the middle of a story. “So Neal dressed up as an Admiral of the Royal Navy, I went in as his wife, and we snuck in the Annual Gala of the Navy, held at the British Museum.”
“Oh I remember this one,” someone said. “That was such a cool heist! Clockwork, fast and clean. No evidence left behind. Pure Caffrey.”
The agents exchanged looks and slowly turned around.
“Shhh,” Mozzie said, sending frantic looks toward the FBI group. “Keep it quiet! Big Brother is literally right next to us!”
The group of thieves followed his gaze, and they were met by the prying looks of the FBI agents, innocently smiling at them.
“Oh, come on, spill the beans,” Jones pressed the lady thief who had started the story. “What was your target?”
The thieves exchanged looks. The blond woman shook her head.
“Oh come on,” Diana pressed. “It was what, fifteen years ago? Statute of limitations is up - assuming you don’t still have it…” she added with a grin.
Peter took his badge out of his jacket’s inner pocket and put in on the table. “Today we’re not FBI agents, just friends of Neal’s.”
The other agents joined his gesture and put their badges on the table.
“Friends of Neal’s who take their badges to his funeral,” said sarcastically a big guy with red hair. Hadn’t Peter seen him beofore? He looked familiar. Ruby, Rody, something like that.
Peter grinned. “Look, we promise, nothing that you say here in this bar will be used against you. Come on, we just want to hear the stories.”
Mozzie nodded to the lady thief, signaling her it was okay to trust Peter. The agents pulled the tables and chairs closer to join the group of criminals.
“Promise?” the lady asked, looking at the agents.
“Promise,” they replied all together.
“So Neal had this crazy idea he could break into the British Museum. Just for the challenge, you know?”
Everyone nodded.
“The British Museum regularly hosts these big events, so Neal thought it’d be a good way in. We snuck into the Annual Royal Navy Gala. Neal was going in as an Admiral, I was his ‘plus one’.”
“Why an Admiral?” the probie asked.
She shrugged. “Because it’s Neal.”
Again, everyone nodded their agreement.
“Neal charmed his way in, we enjoyed the dinner. Then we discreetly left the central hall where the party was held, and made our way to the Assyrian aisle. We targeted the smaller artifacts, easier to sneak out. Of course, Neal had taken care of the security beforehand. We unloaded our loot to our accomplices waiting beneath a window and went back to the party. The missing art and the suspiciously opened window weren’t reported until the following morning. We were long gone by then.”
A silence filled with admiration and appreciation settled, until a short man, with dark hair broke it.
“Okay, our turn,” he said. “Is it true that Neal stole the full content of a Nazi U-boat?”
Peter and Mozzie exchanged a meaningful look.
“Some things are better left to legend,” Mozzie said quickly. “How about you tell us how Neal broke out of a judge’s chamber?”
A small smile brushed Peter’s lips as he flashbacked to the scene, Neal jumping out of the window, gracefully falling on the shop’s awning below - that damn bakery Neal had bought. “Oh, yes, that was a good one,” he said with a nod.
It seemed such a long time ago. And in a way it was. They lived so many things together since, but back then, they were still treading water with each other, gauging how much trust they could put in each other, trying to adapt to this new dynamic of playing for the same team - mostly - after having been adversaries for so long. Thinking back, Peter realized how much they had built during those years working side by side - mostly.
“Well, it all started because Neal was framed. He was arrested and told the judge he had sensitive information, so that they’d be alone in the judge’s office.”
“And we had the air-conditioning off, so that the judge would ask them to open the window!” Mozzie recalled with glee.
Peter sent him a long look, but went on with the story. “He jumped out of the window and landed on a bakery’s awning just in front of me.”
“A bakery that we bought just for this,” Mozzie said enthusiastically. “It’s called The Greatest Cake. You should all come and check it out, we still own it.”
He suddenly stopped, sobering up instantly as he realized he was now the sole owner. His jaw squared and he inhaled deeply. Peter felt a knot in his stomach, as Mozzie pushed back his tears.
The agent cleared his throat and continued the story. “Anyway, so Neal basically landed in front of me, after a very slick move to get down the awning. He just shrugged at me, and ran away into a van parked in the street, right on top of a manhole. The van took off, taking a whole bunch of OPR agents on a wild goose chase.”
The group of conmen cheered and applauded. The agents didn’t seem too embarrassed for their OPR colleagues. Spontaneously, law men and thieves raised their glasses. “To Neal Caffrey,” they said together.
Peter looked at El, who was leaning against him. A small smile on her lips counterbalanced the swollen eyes, and the sadness in her eyes. It was a small solace to know that Neal was appreciated. Leaving a mark, that’s how you know you made a difference, and Neal sure made a big one, in both the worlds he lived in.
They kept sharing stories and anecdotes about Neal until way past lunch time. They ordered more drinks, and snacks. Everyone was reluctant to leave, to go back to the outside world, where Neal was gone, and the world a little less shiny.