White Collar Fic: Regret
Title: Regret
Rating: R for language
Characters/Pairings: Peter-on-Neal UST if you squint
Spoilers: None
Content Notice: None
Word Count: 2,400
Summary: Peter regrets some of the things he said; he just hopes he’ll have a chance to tell Neal.
A/N: This is a fill for Prompt 8 of my wcpairings challenge for the lovely emmademarais. Her prompt was “N in car accident either with Peter or near enough to Peter that he's on the scene fast”
This fills the “accidents” square on my H/C Bingo card.
----
“Faster, Di!” Peter urged, leaning forward and straining against his seatbelt, as if he could push the car along through sheer force of will.
“I’m trying, Boss, but that? Is a Maserati GranTurismo, and has about a hundred more horses than this crappy Ford!”
“We’re losing ‘em, we’re losing ‘em.”
“Not if I can help it!”
They closed the gap fast, and Peter said a silent thank you to the Academy driving instructors as Diana coaxed just a little more out of the protesting SUV’s engine and they finally caught sight of the speeding convertible.
Just as it spun out of control, surged over an embankment and exploded.
“NEAL!” Peter shouted, his voice suddenly not loud enough.
----
One Day Earlier
“Morning, Neal. Last case, huh?” Jones said as Neal walked through the doors of the White Collar unit.
Neal's smile was bigger and brighter than usual. “Last case, last week,” he said happily. He dropped himself into his desk chair with practiced grace and hefted his left leg onto the corner of his desk, eyeing the anklet with a raised eyebrow. “I will not miss this,” he said quietly as Peter walked up between them.
“You two done fooling around, or can we get the morning meeting started?” he asked with a scowl.
Jones stood, a sheepish expression on his face, grabbed his notebook and headed up the stairs to the conference room. Neal looked up at Peter sideways, a gleam in his eye. “You won’t have me to push around anymore after next week,” he pointed out.
This was true - in one week, Neal's sentence as a work-release felon with the FBI would be up, and he would finally be a free man. What he did after that was his business. “But until that time, I still own your ass,” Peter reminded, frowning. He pointed silently up at the conference room and Neal obediently preceded him to the meeting space.
----
“Anton Calibri,” Peter said, hitting a button on his computer so that a picture of their latest target was displayed on the conference room display. The man was handsome, tanned, and wearing a pricey suit. More than one person in the room whistled low. “Take it in,” Peter said impatiently, “I’ll wait.” The assembled agents quieted and he continued. “Neal - care to fill us in?”
Neal seemed self-conscious as all eyes were suddenly on him. “International fence and smuggler, conman, counterfeiter. Purported to be into arms dealing lately. Bad news.”
“And?”
Neal looked at Peter blankly.
“Twelve years ago?”
Neal looked around the room apologetically. “Our paths may have crossed. In Capri.”
“And again in Delft?” Peter prompted.
“There may have been a stolen Vermeer. Allegedly.”
“Uh-huh. Word on the street is that Calibri’s putting together a new crew. We’re not sure what the target is, but he’s in need of a safecracker. We’ve put it out there that his old associate Neal Caffrey is once again open to business arrangements.”
“But I’m not.”
“He doesn’t know that.”
“He won’t buy it.”
“You’ll be convincing. This time, you’re going undercover as Neal Caffrey.”
----
Peter gripped the center console of the SUV until his knuckles turned white and his fingernails pierced the faux leather. “Come on, come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath.
The sports car Calibri drove, with Neal in the passenger seat, had all but disappeared from view along the twisting Palisades Parkway. Peter flinched when Diana hit the brakes again as they approached another curve.
They had to catch up to Neal, they had to.
----
“Peter.”
Peter turned his head but kept his eyes on his PC. Neal had lingered behind after their briefing. “Hmm?”
“I need to talk to you about this case. I’ve got a bad feeling about it.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s Calibri, he’s just - he’s careful, and meticulous, and there’s no way he doesn’t know I’m working for the FBI.”
“That’s kind of the point, Neal. Your sentence is nearly up. He’ll expect you to look for another gig.” A look passed over Neal's face then; Peter didn’t know if it was guilt or trepidation, but he could guess its cause. “Calibri’s already contacted you.”
“I didn’t say yes,” Neal said, spreading his hands.
“Did you say no?” Peter snapped angrily.
“A second ago, you wouldn’t have wanted me to,” Neal pointed out, color rising in his cheeks as he reacted to Peter’s response.
Peter’s jump to a conclusion was so sudden, he almost gave himself whiplash. “Why does this not surprise me? You been interviewing for new jobs?”
Neal's face went white. “What?”
“I should have known - all these years at the FBI, all those protestations that you’d be staying, that you had a family in New York - “
“I do have a family here…”
“You just can’t wait to get back into the game. Was it all a lie? Has it always been?”
“Peter, that’s unfair, I -“
“You’ve just been itching to get out of here, I heard you with Jones before.”
“That doesn’t mean -“
“Phil always said a leopard couldn’t change his spots. I thought you were a different kind of leopard, Neal. I guess I was wrong.” Peter was shouting now, and he couldn’t help it, he couldn’t stop himself.
But Neal - Neal's voice was calm, hard and icy as he finally responded to Peter’s accusations. “Phil? Kramer? You’re talking to that guy about me? Well, Peter, if that’s where you’re taking your advice, then my protesting this sudden change in your attitude about me is absolutely irrelevant. I can’t believe you’d have absolutely no faith in me, after all we’ve done together, all we’ve been through, but if you’re talking to Kramer about it, then I have to say I’m not surprised. I just -“ He turned to go, and his voice was shaking, but he stopped in the doorway to the conference room, his hand clutching at the doorframe. “I can’t believe you’d think I’d throw that away. I can’t believe you don’t see the changes in me, even now. You disappoint me, Peter. I never thought I’d be the one to say that.”
Peter was shaking by the time Neal turned and walked quickly down the stairs and to the elevators. He didn’t know what had caused his outburst, but he’d been irritable all week, and now he’d let that irritation bubble over into full-fledged anger, and why? He could guess, but didn’t want to - in that direction lay thoughts and feelings long suppressed.
----
The SUV fishtailed as its tires caught a large puddle in the road from the thunderstorms that had rumbled through earlier that morning, and Diana cursed as she fought to get the vehicle under control. She didn’t pause to catch her breath once she did, however, hitting the gas hard to try to catch up to Calibri, her eyes intent on the road and her lips set in a determined line. Within a minute they’d closed the gap, and Peter could see the tail lights of the Maserati as it entered yet another curve.
----
Prep for Neal's meeting with Calibri the next morning was mercifully brief, with both Peter and Neal giving each other the cold shoulder. Diana handled much of the logistics while Peter steadfastly ignored the high color in Neal's cheeks and the stiff set of his shoulders throughout the proceedings.
The meeting was to take place at the rented McMansion in a New Jersey suburb where Calibri had been staying. Given his suspicious tendencies, the Bureau had had to set up a command center in a neighboring home - the portability and convenience of the van would have to be foregone for this one.
Neal's job was an easy one - make contact with Calibri, plant as many bugs as he could and then get out. If a second meeting was possible, he was to set it up.
The meeting seemed to go smoothly, Calibri greeting Neal warmly, his cultured European accent not at all grating on Peter’s nerves as he and Neal embraced and he patted Neal down - at least that’s what Peter told himself all the smacks and muffled fumbling at clothing sounded like.
They had a conversation. Calibri was cagey, not revealing a single fact about his plans to Neal, despite skillful and subtle prodding. Peter wondered briefly if Neal was being too subtle, but quickly let that thought fade - Neal would remain professional, he knew it in his bones even if he couldn’t say it directly to Neal.
Calibri never left Neal alone, but still Neal managed to plant at least two bugs during his tour of the house - one in the office and one at the pool out back; Peter nodded approvingly as their little green lights came online.
”Nice car, Tony,” Neal was saying appreciatively as Calibri’s house tour concluded at the garage.
”Want to take her for a spin, Nil?” Peter found Calibri’s pronunciation of Neal's name to be inexplicably annoying.
”Oh, no,” Neal demurred, ”You know I’m an indifferent driver.”
”You won’t mind if I do, then? I’ve an errand to run, will you come?”
”Why not?”
Peter laid a hand on Diana’s shoulder - a field trip away from the house had not been on the docket, but it wasn’t as if they hadn’t planned for it. Several follow cars had been set up throughout the subdivision already, and they shoved portable listening devices into their ears and trotted out the back of the house toward a waiting SUV.
There was more chit chat coming over the wire, and Peter thought “Nil” sounded bored and impatient; he hoped that came across to Calibri as impatient to get on with business.
There was the sound of an engine starting, revving, gravel shooting out from the tires as they eased out of the driveway, Neal making impressed sounds about hand-tooled Italian leather. And then the words that would freeze the blood in Peter’s veins.
”What do you think, Nil, should I open her up? See if those FBI agents who came with you can keep up?”
----
“Faster, Di!” Peter urged, almost moaned, as the Maserati got to the highway and took off like a shot. The Palisades Parkway, in this part of the state, was a majestic drive atop cliffs that lined the Hudson, providing stunning views of Manhattan. And plenty of places to dump a body.
”Tony, I don’t know what the hell you’re doing -“ Neal was saying.
”Oh, don’ you? You don’ thin I knew this was a setup from the start?”
”Shall I remind you that YOU contacted ME. I knew you’d be like this still - you just can’t ever let a single thing go.”
Peter wondered what the hell Neal was talking about, but decided to let it slide, if he could only see his partner safely out of that car. Calibri’s reputation for dealing with the people who crossed him was well-earned, and he didn’t think for a second he wouldn’t hurt Neal if he thought he’d double-crossed him. He instantly regretted even taking on this case.
“We’re losing ‘em, we’re losing ‘em,” Peter felt it important to state.
“Not if I can help it!” Diana gritted out.
The chase seemed to take forever, Diana and Peter only ever catching brief glimpses of the Maserati’s tail before it sped off again. If he didn’t know better, Peter would swear Calibri was toying with them, drawing this out for maximum effect. Peter would kill him if he could.
At last they closed the gap, but even from this distance, Peter could see the slight ponding of rainwater on the road, and knew what would happen almost before it did. Diana hit the brakes, hard, and Peter braced himself for an impact that never came, just as the Maserati fishtailed, did a 180 and tore through the guardrail at the side of the road.
“NEAL!” Peter shouted, Diana too, as the Ford shuddered to a stop, smoke rising from its screeching tires. The explosion of the car was almost too quiet, the red fireball that rose from beyond the edge of the road lapping at the tree branches almost gently before receding. A thick, oily black smoke now rose into the air as Peter got out of the car and ran to the edge of the road.
Neal! Peter’s thoughts were limited to single words, his footsteps providing the punctuation as he ran.
No!
God!
Please!
When he reached the edge of the road, Peter skidded to a stop and fell to his knees, leaned forward with a hand on the torn guardrail to steady himself and his eyes traced the trail of destruction the car had left in the undergrowth on its way down. He thought he might puke. He thought he might die. He might puke, then die. And then -
“Ow.”
Peter’s eyes followed the sound, twenty feet to his left. A dark, tousled, head rose out of the tall grass and wildflowers that grew there and peered around. “Neal?” Peter called, incredulous.
The head swiveled around and wide, blue eyes looked at Peter before closing as Neal grimaced. “Peter?”
“I’m comin’ buddy!” Peter got up and picked his way over to Neal as Diana called in the accident behind him. Neal was struggling to sit up when Peter reached him; there were a few cuts on his face, and his hands and knees were torn up from the landing, but somehow Neal had managed to jump from the car without much serious injury. “I thought you were -“ Peter choked out.
“I thought I was too,” Neal said, dazed.
And then Peter pulled him into his arms, hugging Neal as if to prove he was safe. Neal squirmed and he let him go. “Sorry,” he muttered self-consciously. He could already hear sirens in the distance.
“Are you?” Neal asked, coughing lightly as the smoke from the car fire drifted in their direction.
“Yeah, I really am,” Peter said sincerely and helped him to his feet.
----
Thank you for your time.
And the sequel: Acts of Contrition
Rating: R for language
Characters/Pairings: Peter-on-Neal UST if you squint
Spoilers: None
Content Notice: None
Word Count: 2,400
Summary: Peter regrets some of the things he said; he just hopes he’ll have a chance to tell Neal.
A/N: This is a fill for Prompt 8 of my wcpairings challenge for the lovely emmademarais. Her prompt was “N in car accident either with Peter or near enough to Peter that he's on the scene fast”
This fills the “accidents” square on my H/C Bingo card.
----
“Faster, Di!” Peter urged, leaning forward and straining against his seatbelt, as if he could push the car along through sheer force of will.
“I’m trying, Boss, but that? Is a Maserati GranTurismo, and has about a hundred more horses than this crappy Ford!”
“We’re losing ‘em, we’re losing ‘em.”
“Not if I can help it!”
They closed the gap fast, and Peter said a silent thank you to the Academy driving instructors as Diana coaxed just a little more out of the protesting SUV’s engine and they finally caught sight of the speeding convertible.
Just as it spun out of control, surged over an embankment and exploded.
“NEAL!” Peter shouted, his voice suddenly not loud enough.
----
One Day Earlier
“Morning, Neal. Last case, huh?” Jones said as Neal walked through the doors of the White Collar unit.
Neal's smile was bigger and brighter than usual. “Last case, last week,” he said happily. He dropped himself into his desk chair with practiced grace and hefted his left leg onto the corner of his desk, eyeing the anklet with a raised eyebrow. “I will not miss this,” he said quietly as Peter walked up between them.
“You two done fooling around, or can we get the morning meeting started?” he asked with a scowl.
Jones stood, a sheepish expression on his face, grabbed his notebook and headed up the stairs to the conference room. Neal looked up at Peter sideways, a gleam in his eye. “You won’t have me to push around anymore after next week,” he pointed out.
This was true - in one week, Neal's sentence as a work-release felon with the FBI would be up, and he would finally be a free man. What he did after that was his business. “But until that time, I still own your ass,” Peter reminded, frowning. He pointed silently up at the conference room and Neal obediently preceded him to the meeting space.
----
“Anton Calibri,” Peter said, hitting a button on his computer so that a picture of their latest target was displayed on the conference room display. The man was handsome, tanned, and wearing a pricey suit. More than one person in the room whistled low. “Take it in,” Peter said impatiently, “I’ll wait.” The assembled agents quieted and he continued. “Neal - care to fill us in?”
Neal seemed self-conscious as all eyes were suddenly on him. “International fence and smuggler, conman, counterfeiter. Purported to be into arms dealing lately. Bad news.”
“And?”
Neal looked at Peter blankly.
“Twelve years ago?”
Neal looked around the room apologetically. “Our paths may have crossed. In Capri.”
“And again in Delft?” Peter prompted.
“There may have been a stolen Vermeer. Allegedly.”
“Uh-huh. Word on the street is that Calibri’s putting together a new crew. We’re not sure what the target is, but he’s in need of a safecracker. We’ve put it out there that his old associate Neal Caffrey is once again open to business arrangements.”
“But I’m not.”
“He doesn’t know that.”
“He won’t buy it.”
“You’ll be convincing. This time, you’re going undercover as Neal Caffrey.”
----
Peter gripped the center console of the SUV until his knuckles turned white and his fingernails pierced the faux leather. “Come on, come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath.
The sports car Calibri drove, with Neal in the passenger seat, had all but disappeared from view along the twisting Palisades Parkway. Peter flinched when Diana hit the brakes again as they approached another curve.
They had to catch up to Neal, they had to.
----
“Peter.”
Peter turned his head but kept his eyes on his PC. Neal had lingered behind after their briefing. “Hmm?”
“I need to talk to you about this case. I’ve got a bad feeling about it.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s Calibri, he’s just - he’s careful, and meticulous, and there’s no way he doesn’t know I’m working for the FBI.”
“That’s kind of the point, Neal. Your sentence is nearly up. He’ll expect you to look for another gig.” A look passed over Neal's face then; Peter didn’t know if it was guilt or trepidation, but he could guess its cause. “Calibri’s already contacted you.”
“I didn’t say yes,” Neal said, spreading his hands.
“Did you say no?” Peter snapped angrily.
“A second ago, you wouldn’t have wanted me to,” Neal pointed out, color rising in his cheeks as he reacted to Peter’s response.
Peter’s jump to a conclusion was so sudden, he almost gave himself whiplash. “Why does this not surprise me? You been interviewing for new jobs?”
Neal's face went white. “What?”
“I should have known - all these years at the FBI, all those protestations that you’d be staying, that you had a family in New York - “
“I do have a family here…”
“You just can’t wait to get back into the game. Was it all a lie? Has it always been?”
“Peter, that’s unfair, I -“
“You’ve just been itching to get out of here, I heard you with Jones before.”
“That doesn’t mean -“
“Phil always said a leopard couldn’t change his spots. I thought you were a different kind of leopard, Neal. I guess I was wrong.” Peter was shouting now, and he couldn’t help it, he couldn’t stop himself.
But Neal - Neal's voice was calm, hard and icy as he finally responded to Peter’s accusations. “Phil? Kramer? You’re talking to that guy about me? Well, Peter, if that’s where you’re taking your advice, then my protesting this sudden change in your attitude about me is absolutely irrelevant. I can’t believe you’d have absolutely no faith in me, after all we’ve done together, all we’ve been through, but if you’re talking to Kramer about it, then I have to say I’m not surprised. I just -“ He turned to go, and his voice was shaking, but he stopped in the doorway to the conference room, his hand clutching at the doorframe. “I can’t believe you’d think I’d throw that away. I can’t believe you don’t see the changes in me, even now. You disappoint me, Peter. I never thought I’d be the one to say that.”
Peter was shaking by the time Neal turned and walked quickly down the stairs and to the elevators. He didn’t know what had caused his outburst, but he’d been irritable all week, and now he’d let that irritation bubble over into full-fledged anger, and why? He could guess, but didn’t want to - in that direction lay thoughts and feelings long suppressed.
----
The SUV fishtailed as its tires caught a large puddle in the road from the thunderstorms that had rumbled through earlier that morning, and Diana cursed as she fought to get the vehicle under control. She didn’t pause to catch her breath once she did, however, hitting the gas hard to try to catch up to Calibri, her eyes intent on the road and her lips set in a determined line. Within a minute they’d closed the gap, and Peter could see the tail lights of the Maserati as it entered yet another curve.
----
Prep for Neal's meeting with Calibri the next morning was mercifully brief, with both Peter and Neal giving each other the cold shoulder. Diana handled much of the logistics while Peter steadfastly ignored the high color in Neal's cheeks and the stiff set of his shoulders throughout the proceedings.
The meeting was to take place at the rented McMansion in a New Jersey suburb where Calibri had been staying. Given his suspicious tendencies, the Bureau had had to set up a command center in a neighboring home - the portability and convenience of the van would have to be foregone for this one.
Neal's job was an easy one - make contact with Calibri, plant as many bugs as he could and then get out. If a second meeting was possible, he was to set it up.
The meeting seemed to go smoothly, Calibri greeting Neal warmly, his cultured European accent not at all grating on Peter’s nerves as he and Neal embraced and he patted Neal down - at least that’s what Peter told himself all the smacks and muffled fumbling at clothing sounded like.
They had a conversation. Calibri was cagey, not revealing a single fact about his plans to Neal, despite skillful and subtle prodding. Peter wondered briefly if Neal was being too subtle, but quickly let that thought fade - Neal would remain professional, he knew it in his bones even if he couldn’t say it directly to Neal.
Calibri never left Neal alone, but still Neal managed to plant at least two bugs during his tour of the house - one in the office and one at the pool out back; Peter nodded approvingly as their little green lights came online.
”Nice car, Tony,” Neal was saying appreciatively as Calibri’s house tour concluded at the garage.
”Want to take her for a spin, Nil?” Peter found Calibri’s pronunciation of Neal's name to be inexplicably annoying.
”Oh, no,” Neal demurred, ”You know I’m an indifferent driver.”
”You won’t mind if I do, then? I’ve an errand to run, will you come?”
”Why not?”
Peter laid a hand on Diana’s shoulder - a field trip away from the house had not been on the docket, but it wasn’t as if they hadn’t planned for it. Several follow cars had been set up throughout the subdivision already, and they shoved portable listening devices into their ears and trotted out the back of the house toward a waiting SUV.
There was more chit chat coming over the wire, and Peter thought “Nil” sounded bored and impatient; he hoped that came across to Calibri as impatient to get on with business.
There was the sound of an engine starting, revving, gravel shooting out from the tires as they eased out of the driveway, Neal making impressed sounds about hand-tooled Italian leather. And then the words that would freeze the blood in Peter’s veins.
”What do you think, Nil, should I open her up? See if those FBI agents who came with you can keep up?”
----
“Faster, Di!” Peter urged, almost moaned, as the Maserati got to the highway and took off like a shot. The Palisades Parkway, in this part of the state, was a majestic drive atop cliffs that lined the Hudson, providing stunning views of Manhattan. And plenty of places to dump a body.
”Tony, I don’t know what the hell you’re doing -“ Neal was saying.
”Oh, don’ you? You don’ thin I knew this was a setup from the start?”
”Shall I remind you that YOU contacted ME. I knew you’d be like this still - you just can’t ever let a single thing go.”
Peter wondered what the hell Neal was talking about, but decided to let it slide, if he could only see his partner safely out of that car. Calibri’s reputation for dealing with the people who crossed him was well-earned, and he didn’t think for a second he wouldn’t hurt Neal if he thought he’d double-crossed him. He instantly regretted even taking on this case.
“We’re losing ‘em, we’re losing ‘em,” Peter felt it important to state.
“Not if I can help it!” Diana gritted out.
The chase seemed to take forever, Diana and Peter only ever catching brief glimpses of the Maserati’s tail before it sped off again. If he didn’t know better, Peter would swear Calibri was toying with them, drawing this out for maximum effect. Peter would kill him if he could.
At last they closed the gap, but even from this distance, Peter could see the slight ponding of rainwater on the road, and knew what would happen almost before it did. Diana hit the brakes, hard, and Peter braced himself for an impact that never came, just as the Maserati fishtailed, did a 180 and tore through the guardrail at the side of the road.
“NEAL!” Peter shouted, Diana too, as the Ford shuddered to a stop, smoke rising from its screeching tires. The explosion of the car was almost too quiet, the red fireball that rose from beyond the edge of the road lapping at the tree branches almost gently before receding. A thick, oily black smoke now rose into the air as Peter got out of the car and ran to the edge of the road.
Neal! Peter’s thoughts were limited to single words, his footsteps providing the punctuation as he ran.
No!
God!
Please!
When he reached the edge of the road, Peter skidded to a stop and fell to his knees, leaned forward with a hand on the torn guardrail to steady himself and his eyes traced the trail of destruction the car had left in the undergrowth on its way down. He thought he might puke. He thought he might die. He might puke, then die. And then -
“Ow.”
Peter’s eyes followed the sound, twenty feet to his left. A dark, tousled, head rose out of the tall grass and wildflowers that grew there and peered around. “Neal?” Peter called, incredulous.
The head swiveled around and wide, blue eyes looked at Peter before closing as Neal grimaced. “Peter?”
“I’m comin’ buddy!” Peter got up and picked his way over to Neal as Diana called in the accident behind him. Neal was struggling to sit up when Peter reached him; there were a few cuts on his face, and his hands and knees were torn up from the landing, but somehow Neal had managed to jump from the car without much serious injury. “I thought you were -“ Peter choked out.
“I thought I was too,” Neal said, dazed.
And then Peter pulled him into his arms, hugging Neal as if to prove he was safe. Neal squirmed and he let him go. “Sorry,” he muttered self-consciously. He could already hear sirens in the distance.
“Are you?” Neal asked, coughing lightly as the smoke from the car fire drifted in their direction.
“Yeah, I really am,” Peter said sincerely and helped him to his feet.
----
Thank you for your time.
And the sequel: Acts of Contrition