White Collar Fic - Viva La Vida (PG, gen)
Title: Viva La Vida
Fandom: White Collar
Character(s): Neal Caffrey (hints of Peter, Elizabeth, June, and Moz)
Genre: Drama, general
Pairing: Gen (mentions of past Neal/Kate)
Spoilers: Up to 1x14 (Out of the Box)
Disclaimer: White Collar doesn't belong to me, this is solely for fun. No copyright infringement is intended.
Word Count: 1,700
Summary: Hughes gives him two weeks to get his head screwed on straight. Peter tells him to take as long as he needs. (Post 'Out of the Box').
-
Viva La Vida
(or death and all his friends)
-
The force of the blast sweeps Neal's feet out from under him and he takes lift, soaring for the first time since the anklet locked into place and his wings were clipped. The plane goes up, up, up in flames as he falls down, down, down, fingers still outstretched to bridge the gap between them and draw Kate in close.
He's not looking when it happens. He doesn't see the pilot or the plane or Kate's face as the dreary skies light up in hues of red and orange that he will not forget for as long as he lives. What he sees is the barely masked desperation in Peter's body language morph into something defensive and protective and entirely too telling.
Adrenaline drives him to his feet, propelling him upwards and onwards. Peter is there then, pleading in his ear, arms wrapped around his torso and hanging on for dear life. In all their years as predator and prey, Burke has never had to physically restrain him. His hold is foreign, suffocating, and merciless; Neal fights him until he breaks it.
A hop, skip, and a jump later, Neal is being tackled into the concrete by his partner as the fire licks at the space Neal would have been in three - two - "No," Neal yells hoarsely. "No."
He is yelling now; he doesn't know what, but he knows it's not adequate. Peter has his right arm twisted up and around his back and he only tightens his hold when Neal keeps struggling. He doesn't let up until the flames recede, simmering down to a quiet crackle in the distance.
But Neal doesn't see that, just as he didn't see his girlfriend die. He wasn't looking when his new life made the transition into his life that almost was, a Romeo and Juliet tale she would have appreciated.
Kate loves the classics, he can hear himself saying to Moz a dozen times over in the months building up to this moment. He had contented himself with coded messages left in empty bottles and vague phone calls devoid of either information or careless platitudes. It doesn't come down to this, he tells himself. This ending doesn't suit their story.
Kate loved, his mind corrects, the present tense now a denial he clings to with the strength of a state of shock he can't feel. His denial is his refuge, for Neal doesn't know what to do with a life full of past tenses and broken promises.
Peter's grip on his bicep slips down to his elbow and Neal finds himself standing seconds later, his skin tingling from the prolonged warmth. It seeps down through his layers of clothing, soothing the deep chill in his bones into something manageable.
He stopped because Peter asked him to, and turned because his friend deserved a proper goodbye.
He wasn't looking when it happened.
-
Hughes gives him two weeks to get his head screwed on straight, as if an arbitrary deadline will help him work through the five stages any quicker. Fourteen days to get over seven years reduces to one day for every six months he'd known Kate.
Peter tells him to take as long as he needs. Peter tells him a lot of things those first two days, nonsense and wisdom in unequal proportions that balance out in merit.
He'd thought they balanced out too, he and Peter, but Peter has love and a family and a happily ever after while Neal has an empty bottle of wine and cheap platitudes.
Neal had allowed himself to be drawn in by the romanticism of it all and he'd forgotten that guys like them don't get a happy ending. Their loose ends can't be tied up neatly with a nice little bow.
Neal spends one hour on denial and one week on anger.
-
Moz shows up on the Thursday morning and asks him what he needs. They drive out to the water's edge that night to take their places against the railing and watch the waves roll in.
Neal wedges a rolled-up sheet of paper inside the bottle while Moz holds it still. It begins with the words 'Dear Kate', ends with a simple 'I'm sorry', and is two paragraphs long in its entirety. The first details all the promises he broke. The second consists of the ones that fall to her.
He heaves it into the water and eases down to sit beside Moz, dangling his feet over the ledge and looping his arms through the railing. They watch it bob in the water before the current spirits it downstream.
There's a degree of symbolism here he can appreciate artistically with the juxtaposition of fire and water. He was hoping to find peace hidden between the layered meanings, yet the unsettled feeling remains even when he loses sight of the bottle in the dim lighting.
He doesn't feel anything at all, actually.
-
Elizabeth arrives on the Friday bearing enough Tupperware to feed a family for a week, and he thinks that's exactly what she has in mind.
She is the most difficult to talk to because she understands the most. She doesn't push or prod or ask anything of him that he doesn't know how to give.
He watches Marley and Me with her. She cries, he doesn't. She curls an arm around his shoulders and draws him in close like it's just the two of them and microwaveable lasagna and the tissues that accompany a sad movie. He believes her, for a little while.
No matter what anyone says, Elizabeth is the true magician among them. Sleight-of-hand is nothing in comparison.
-
In the months before Kate's death, Peter spent a lot of time questioning her loyalty to Neal. It was sweet, in an overbearing sort of way that is indicative of Peter's attitude towards Neal. While Peter is a very smart guy, he never managed to wrap his head around why Neal would be okay with that kind of ambiguity.
Neal didn't fall in love for her Kate for her loyalty. It was her wit (messages in folded paper, Morse code, a map printed on a wine bottle), her eye for detail (Neal honey, that security camera isn't picking us up), and her smile.
They spent years slipping in and out of character, personas as fluid as water. He knows that she knows how to disguise her true loyalties. His love for her is not dependent on its reciprocation.
Knew. Was.
The fourteenth day of his allotted fortnight comes and goes and the past tense remains a safe Neal cannot crack.
-
Hughes approves another week off for Neal without comment.
Elizabeth restocks his supply of Tupperware.
Jones sends flowers. Diana and Lauren split the bill on a bottle of fine liquor and their apologies.
Moz drops by with a cake from The Greatest Cake and then proceeds to eat three-quarters of it, leaving the leftovers in the fridge for Neal's later perusal.
-
He wakes up one morning to June puttering around his room, setting the table on his balcony for breakfast. Neal begging off due to lack of appetite is out of the question.
"I'm sorry for your loss," is the only comment she makes, squeezing his arm as she eases down into a chair at the table with him.
He clears his throat, weighing his words carefully. "Does it get any easier?" If anyone would be able to understand where he is right now, he thinks June and Byron come the closest.
"Yes," she says after a minute. He is so busy trying to determine whether or not she's lying (because June is unreadable like that) that he doesn't notice when he powers down two waffles, a piece of toast, and a bowl of cereal.
Upon reflection, he thinks that was the true plan.
-
Two lefts and a right followed by a quick jaunt through an alley. He doubles back once to cover his tracks in lieu of dropping down to the sewer level of obscurity because June's kindness and Byron's clothing deserve better than that smell.
It's not conscious intent so much as a habit, at this point. An itch waiting to be scratched. He once made a career of running.
There's nobody to run from, though, and he sees no evidence that he's been followed.
He reaches the pier and drops to his knees with the knowledge they could have made it. If they'd gotten past the plane, they could have disappeared into another country with identities unknown to Fowler and money from accounts the FBI never knew about and pasts pieced together from misplaced history references.
Peter makes no effort to disguise his approach from behind.
"It's not about what might have--," Neal says, and no further. He doesn't finish the sentence because he's not sure if it's a lie. The difference between Neal and the FBI agents chasing him is that Neal knows when he's lying and why.
"Okay," Peter says. Okay where others have claimed I understand, so Neal leans into the warmth of Burke's hand on his shoulder rather than away.
-
He buys himself a new bottle - a full one - using funds from the account he is 60% sure Peter doesn't know about, and he brings it to dinner with Peter and Elizabeth.
They're just sitting down to the table when Satchmo pads up to him and places a paw on his leg. Neal absentmindedly scratches behind his ear, but gives the canine his full attention when Satchmo gives a quiet whine and drops something at his feet. It's a marker - one that Peter confiscates immediately, surveying it and complaining about its chewed and tattered state.
Neal's new bottle does not secretly have a map of the New York subway system imprinted on it. He checked. Twice.
He pours them each a glass as they sit down to the dinner table. Elizabeth stands as he moves to sit, looking uncharacteristically unsure but equally determined. "I'd like to propose a toast," she begins, and Neal closes his eyes.
"To Kate."
Peter gets to his feet as well, and the three of them clink glasses. "To Kate."
Neal is the first to drink and the last to stop. As he moves to sit, he pockets the marker he snatched from Peter when the man was distracted.
Day One.
-
fin
Fandom: White Collar
Character(s): Neal Caffrey (hints of Peter, Elizabeth, June, and Moz)
Genre: Drama, general
Pairing: Gen (mentions of past Neal/Kate)
Spoilers: Up to 1x14 (Out of the Box)
Disclaimer: White Collar doesn't belong to me, this is solely for fun. No copyright infringement is intended.
Word Count: 1,700
Summary: Hughes gives him two weeks to get his head screwed on straight. Peter tells him to take as long as he needs. (Post 'Out of the Box').
-
Viva La Vida
(or death and all his friends)
-
The force of the blast sweeps Neal's feet out from under him and he takes lift, soaring for the first time since the anklet locked into place and his wings were clipped. The plane goes up, up, up in flames as he falls down, down, down, fingers still outstretched to bridge the gap between them and draw Kate in close.
He's not looking when it happens. He doesn't see the pilot or the plane or Kate's face as the dreary skies light up in hues of red and orange that he will not forget for as long as he lives. What he sees is the barely masked desperation in Peter's body language morph into something defensive and protective and entirely too telling.
Adrenaline drives him to his feet, propelling him upwards and onwards. Peter is there then, pleading in his ear, arms wrapped around his torso and hanging on for dear life. In all their years as predator and prey, Burke has never had to physically restrain him. His hold is foreign, suffocating, and merciless; Neal fights him until he breaks it.
A hop, skip, and a jump later, Neal is being tackled into the concrete by his partner as the fire licks at the space Neal would have been in three - two - "No," Neal yells hoarsely. "No."
He is yelling now; he doesn't know what, but he knows it's not adequate. Peter has his right arm twisted up and around his back and he only tightens his hold when Neal keeps struggling. He doesn't let up until the flames recede, simmering down to a quiet crackle in the distance.
But Neal doesn't see that, just as he didn't see his girlfriend die. He wasn't looking when his new life made the transition into his life that almost was, a Romeo and Juliet tale she would have appreciated.
Kate loves the classics, he can hear himself saying to Moz a dozen times over in the months building up to this moment. He had contented himself with coded messages left in empty bottles and vague phone calls devoid of either information or careless platitudes. It doesn't come down to this, he tells himself. This ending doesn't suit their story.
Kate loved, his mind corrects, the present tense now a denial he clings to with the strength of a state of shock he can't feel. His denial is his refuge, for Neal doesn't know what to do with a life full of past tenses and broken promises.
Peter's grip on his bicep slips down to his elbow and Neal finds himself standing seconds later, his skin tingling from the prolonged warmth. It seeps down through his layers of clothing, soothing the deep chill in his bones into something manageable.
He stopped because Peter asked him to, and turned because his friend deserved a proper goodbye.
He wasn't looking when it happened.
-
Hughes gives him two weeks to get his head screwed on straight, as if an arbitrary deadline will help him work through the five stages any quicker. Fourteen days to get over seven years reduces to one day for every six months he'd known Kate.
Peter tells him to take as long as he needs. Peter tells him a lot of things those first two days, nonsense and wisdom in unequal proportions that balance out in merit.
He'd thought they balanced out too, he and Peter, but Peter has love and a family and a happily ever after while Neal has an empty bottle of wine and cheap platitudes.
Neal had allowed himself to be drawn in by the romanticism of it all and he'd forgotten that guys like them don't get a happy ending. Their loose ends can't be tied up neatly with a nice little bow.
Neal spends one hour on denial and one week on anger.
-
Moz shows up on the Thursday morning and asks him what he needs. They drive out to the water's edge that night to take their places against the railing and watch the waves roll in.
Neal wedges a rolled-up sheet of paper inside the bottle while Moz holds it still. It begins with the words 'Dear Kate', ends with a simple 'I'm sorry', and is two paragraphs long in its entirety. The first details all the promises he broke. The second consists of the ones that fall to her.
He heaves it into the water and eases down to sit beside Moz, dangling his feet over the ledge and looping his arms through the railing. They watch it bob in the water before the current spirits it downstream.
There's a degree of symbolism here he can appreciate artistically with the juxtaposition of fire and water. He was hoping to find peace hidden between the layered meanings, yet the unsettled feeling remains even when he loses sight of the bottle in the dim lighting.
He doesn't feel anything at all, actually.
-
Elizabeth arrives on the Friday bearing enough Tupperware to feed a family for a week, and he thinks that's exactly what she has in mind.
She is the most difficult to talk to because she understands the most. She doesn't push or prod or ask anything of him that he doesn't know how to give.
He watches Marley and Me with her. She cries, he doesn't. She curls an arm around his shoulders and draws him in close like it's just the two of them and microwaveable lasagna and the tissues that accompany a sad movie. He believes her, for a little while.
No matter what anyone says, Elizabeth is the true magician among them. Sleight-of-hand is nothing in comparison.
-
In the months before Kate's death, Peter spent a lot of time questioning her loyalty to Neal. It was sweet, in an overbearing sort of way that is indicative of Peter's attitude towards Neal. While Peter is a very smart guy, he never managed to wrap his head around why Neal would be okay with that kind of ambiguity.
Neal didn't fall in love for her Kate for her loyalty. It was her wit (messages in folded paper, Morse code, a map printed on a wine bottle), her eye for detail (Neal honey, that security camera isn't picking us up), and her smile.
They spent years slipping in and out of character, personas as fluid as water. He knows that she knows how to disguise her true loyalties. His love for her is not dependent on its reciprocation.
Knew. Was.
The fourteenth day of his allotted fortnight comes and goes and the past tense remains a safe Neal cannot crack.
-
Hughes approves another week off for Neal without comment.
Elizabeth restocks his supply of Tupperware.
Jones sends flowers. Diana and Lauren split the bill on a bottle of fine liquor and their apologies.
Moz drops by with a cake from The Greatest Cake and then proceeds to eat three-quarters of it, leaving the leftovers in the fridge for Neal's later perusal.
-
He wakes up one morning to June puttering around his room, setting the table on his balcony for breakfast. Neal begging off due to lack of appetite is out of the question.
"I'm sorry for your loss," is the only comment she makes, squeezing his arm as she eases down into a chair at the table with him.
He clears his throat, weighing his words carefully. "Does it get any easier?" If anyone would be able to understand where he is right now, he thinks June and Byron come the closest.
"Yes," she says after a minute. He is so busy trying to determine whether or not she's lying (because June is unreadable like that) that he doesn't notice when he powers down two waffles, a piece of toast, and a bowl of cereal.
Upon reflection, he thinks that was the true plan.
-
Two lefts and a right followed by a quick jaunt through an alley. He doubles back once to cover his tracks in lieu of dropping down to the sewer level of obscurity because June's kindness and Byron's clothing deserve better than that smell.
It's not conscious intent so much as a habit, at this point. An itch waiting to be scratched. He once made a career of running.
There's nobody to run from, though, and he sees no evidence that he's been followed.
He reaches the pier and drops to his knees with the knowledge they could have made it. If they'd gotten past the plane, they could have disappeared into another country with identities unknown to Fowler and money from accounts the FBI never knew about and pasts pieced together from misplaced history references.
Peter makes no effort to disguise his approach from behind.
"It's not about what might have--," Neal says, and no further. He doesn't finish the sentence because he's not sure if it's a lie. The difference between Neal and the FBI agents chasing him is that Neal knows when he's lying and why.
"Okay," Peter says. Okay where others have claimed I understand, so Neal leans into the warmth of Burke's hand on his shoulder rather than away.
-
He buys himself a new bottle - a full one - using funds from the account he is 60% sure Peter doesn't know about, and he brings it to dinner with Peter and Elizabeth.
They're just sitting down to the table when Satchmo pads up to him and places a paw on his leg. Neal absentmindedly scratches behind his ear, but gives the canine his full attention when Satchmo gives a quiet whine and drops something at his feet. It's a marker - one that Peter confiscates immediately, surveying it and complaining about its chewed and tattered state.
Neal's new bottle does not secretly have a map of the New York subway system imprinted on it. He checked. Twice.
He pours them each a glass as they sit down to the dinner table. Elizabeth stands as he moves to sit, looking uncharacteristically unsure but equally determined. "I'd like to propose a toast," she begins, and Neal closes his eyes.
"To Kate."
Peter gets to his feet as well, and the three of them clink glasses. "To Kate."
Neal is the first to drink and the last to stop. As he moves to sit, he pockets the marker he snatched from Peter when the man was distracted.
Day One.
-
fin