Fic: The Last Con - Epilogue
Title: The Last Con - Epilogue (7/7)
Author: reve_silencieux
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Neal, Sara, Peter, brief appearances by everyone, OFC (N/S)
Spoilers: Season Five
Warnings: Spoilery - read if you must (highlight below)
Presumed character death - PLEASE DO NOT SPOIL OTHERS IN YOUR COMMENTS
Word Count: 33,300 (This chapter: 2500)
Beta: sapphire2309 and qwertyfaced
Summary: In this universe, Neal was not kidnapped, Peter never considered the DC offer, and life went on. Neal is finally off the anklet and has made a choice. One month into his new life in London, a stolen Chagall threatens to change his life.
Author's Note: I started writing this back in November during Season 5. I was able to weave in most of the plotline, but not all. So just keep that in mind. This fic IS complete, and I will post on Mondays and Fridays.
Previous Chapters: Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five
Peter pulled the car to a stop alongside the quiet road winding through the cemetery. He looked out at the expansive snow covered lawn, glistening and sparkling under the morning sun. It was a beautiful day. It had just snowed two days earlier, giving the cemetery an ethereal feeling, a sense of peacefulness that clashed with the heartbreaking pain that had taken over Peter since the fateful call one week earlier.
He wiped his eyes and took a shuddering breath, knowing that once he stepped out, he had to acknowledge that it was truly over-that Neal was gone. No more would he see the bright blue eyes of his best friend as he laughed and smiled in that maddening, frustrating way of his that screamed 'You know you love me!' even as he ran off to do something crazy. They might have said goodbye when Neal moved to London, but Peter had always expected to see him again.
It wasn't fair.
Peter knew he sounded like a child, but he didn't care at the moment. Neal had had everything going for him. He'd finished his sentence, accepted Sterling Bosch's job offer and was on track to having a normal life. A good life. Peter had half expected to get a phone call after Christmas saying he'd proposed to Sara. That was Neal, jumping into things, but if you looked closer, you'd realize that Neal always thought everything through carefully.
That's what made Peter so angry. For years, he’d thought Neal's recklessness would get him killed, but a stupid car accident took his life-and Sara's. After everything they'd gone through, after they’d finally made the commitment, having gotten past all the bumps in the road and the distance that had separated them. They didn't deserve this. He'd always liked Sara, and even though on paper they were an unorthodox couple, she was the perfect match for Neal.
Peter had never understood Neal's blind devotion to Kate, especially after the music box debacle, but he hadn't discounted his love for the girl. However, Peter had always known that Neal deserved someone he could trust, someone that could keep up with him yet ground him at the same time. Sara had been that person. Neal might have projected an independent, devil-may-care attitude, but Peter had seen how much Neal had wanted to settle down, to have someone he could grow old with, and have a family. It was the constant internal battle he’d fought between the man and the con.
It didn't matter anymore.
He looked up when he felt a squeeze of his hand and found Elizabeth watching him worriedly. It had hit them all hard-the news so unexpected, that many people at the office thought it a rumor until Peter had brought everyone together to officially acknowledge it. Telling Elizabeth that night (Peter hadn't had the strength to tell her over the phone) had been nearly impossible. She'd been devastated and without a word, they'd held each other for hours, mourning the man that had become a part of their family.
Even after telling Elizabeth, delivering the news to everyone else didn't get any easier. He and Diana had deliberated on who would tell Mozzie, and finally Peter volunteered, wanting to keep Diana's relationship with her occasional babysitter on friendly (if sometimes contentious) terms. But the idea of actually telling Mozzie terrified him. The man had been very protective of Neal over the years and had not hesitated to take his grief out on Peter and the FBI. Even though this had been an accident, the result would be the same. Neal had chosen to go straight, and for that, Mozzie would always blame 'the Suit.'
So, partly to have a buffer, but mostly so he wouldn't have to go through it twice, he called up June and asked to meet with her and Mozzie together. He figured they could comfort each other at least.
But he felt like a coward.
June took it hard, and watching her crumble had been like a kick to the stomach. He didn't know the circumstances of Byron's death, but he imagined Neal's death affected her just as much. She had looked after him like he was her own son.
Mozzie had gone silent. It had been unnerving, to say the least. Peter had expected outrage, accusations-anything but the stone cold silence. Finally Moz had taken June in his arms, murmured something to her, too soft for Peter to hear, but the look he'd given Peter said it all. So after quietly telling them that he would be in touch with further details, Peter had left, his tail tucked between his legs.
The mood at home and around the office was somber, the Christmas decorations and Holiday Party feeling starkly out of place and inappropriate as they planned a memorial service. The beauty and wonder of the season that usually filled Peter with such happiness now seemed to mock him, with its joyful music and smiles on even the rudest of New Yorkers.
There would be no Merry Christmas in the Burke household or the White Collar office.
They'd had to find someone from another department to handle the office today, seeing as the entire White Collar division was attending the service. Everyone had come to like and respect Neal during his time there. It was easy to forget the bad times now, and no one wanted to dwell on things that couldn't be changed when the man was gone.
“Peter...” Elizabeth gently prodded. She smiled sadly and he nodded. He couldn't put it off any more. Bringing her hand to his lips, he dropped a kiss and with a deep breath, got out of the car.
They walked silently towards the tent where chairs had been set up. A crowd was already forming, and he knew Neal would have been secretly pleased at how many people were there, especially from the FBI. He almost laughed when he saw Mozzie sitting amongst a small group that was trying to inconspicuously stay far away from the agents milling around. Only Neal would manage to bring together the two disparate groups without questioning glances or tempers flaring, itchy trigger fingers aside.
As they got closer, Peter saw Hughes separate himself from a group of agents and walk towards them.
“Peter. How are you?”
He blinked, and had to look away for a second before turning back to his old boss, trying to reign in the sob that was threatening to escape. “I've been better, Reese. It hasn't quite sunk in, yet. I keep thinking he'll call one day or I'll find a postcard in the mail letting me know he's off somewhere.”
Reese nodded and shoved his hands in his coat pockets. “It's a damn waste. He was a good guy, despite everything he'd done.”
Peter could only nod, unable to talk without losing his composure.
“Have you heard if they found the guy?” Reese asked, steering the conversation towards something they could focus better on.
He shook his head. “No. The police found the SUV abandoned, no prints. There's no clear video of the driver. Since it was stolen, they have no leads and are likely to close the case soon. Hit and run.”
“Damn.”
Peter mentally echoed his sentiment. When he'd called a friend in Interpol to get the police report, he'd been expecting the standard car accident. Someone ran a red light, or had a stroke or something. Finding out that the SUV that had hit their taxi had been stolen and there was no sign of the person responsible, it had left a bitter taste in his mouth. There would be no justice or even forgiveness.
Just unanswered questions and a broken heart.
The three of them walked back to the tent, and made their way to the front row. Diana and Jones were already there, sitting next to June and her granddaughter. They all smiled sadly at each other, and June looked ready to cry at any moment, her eyes red rimmed and watery. Peter leaned down to hug her and felt her shudder in his arms.
He sat down next to Jones, and looked out at the ground where a marker had been placed. Neal and Sara's bodies had been cremated in London and sent home. Peter, Elizabeth and Mozzie had talked and carefully made the decision to spread his ashes off the Amalfi coast, knowing he'd want to be free. The young man had loved traveling the world and this seemed only fitting.
Peter had made the decision to place the marker next to Ellen’s headstone. She was his closest relative, if not by blood, then by years spent loving him as if he was her own. It just didn't feel right to place him next to Kate. Sara's marker would be with her parents. They would have a small private service for her afterwards, and then their small group would meet up at June's. He had a feeling he wouldn't be fit to go to work tomorrow.
Diana leaned forward and said in a hushed voice, "I keep thinking that if Neal's watching, he's probably proud as a damn peacock, grinning that shit-eating grin of his."
Jones smiled wryly, and tipped his head in agreement. "Oh, he's watching, for sure."
"And probably upset that this is what it took for me to get a new suit," Peter added, his tone sobering at the thought of Neal standing next to him, critiquing the cut and his choice of tie. El had insisted on a new one, even though Peter knew he would never be able to wear it again. Maybe that was the point.
The service started a few minutes later, and while there was no casket to stare at, or physical body to bury, Peter felt himself choking up as he stared at the small marker bearing Neal's name. This was Neal's funeral. He wouldn't be popping over to his house and bugging him over breakfast or teasing him about his lucky tie. It felt unreal. Death was always a shock, he knew that, but he still couldn't believe that Neal was really and truly gone.
The priest finished and looked to him. Peter stood up after squeezing Elizabeth's hand and slowly walked to where the priest stood. He glanced around the varied group of people there-agents, staff, and criminals alike, they were all there for Neal. His hands fell to his side, and he wished he had a stand or pulpit or something to cling to, because he wasn't sure he could keep himself upright for too long.
“I-” he stopped, his voice breaking, and he cleared his throat. “I'm Special Agent Peter Burke, and I've known Neal for over ten years now. He was my best friend. It sounds strange, I know, considering who we were, but Neal was a special guy. I chased him for three years, and he sent me birthday cards and champagne to our surveillance van.”
There was a soft smattering of laughter amongst the crowd. He took a deep breath. “I had the chance to get to know the real Neal Caffrey-not the conman in the case file, but the man behind the charm and fancy hats. He had a big heart. I think the fact that he broke out of prison to find his girlfriend, with only three months left, says it all. Neal would do anything for the people he loved.”
He paused and the corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile. “Of course, it wasn’t always completely legal, but Neal liked to think outside the box.”
Peter looked to Elizabeth, who gave him a reassuring smile. He straightened and rested his hands on his hips. “I still remember the first day he showed up at my house. I found him on my couch, talking with my wife-petting my dog, and I was so angry. How dare he just waltz in like that? But he quickly became a fixture, a part of our lives-our family.” He shook his head and had to chuckle at the memories. “I can’t tell you how many times my wife called on him instead of me to do things for her. Of course, on the flip side, I got out of all the art shows and the food tasting. That was a win in my book.”
He watched as Elizabeth laughed and dabbed her eyes with a tissue. They really had been a family, he realized with a pang in his heart.
“Neal had his faults though. He made plenty of mistakes, but he always had the best intentions at heart. We might not have always agreed on the best way to do things, and there were times when he sent my blood pressure through the roof with his crazy shenanigans, but I trusted him to have my back.”
Peter wrung his hands together, and stared out at the cemetery, past the crowd of people. “We had our rough patches, and... and I said things over the years that I regret. But he always found a way to forgive. And we were able to move on.”
He swiped a hand over his eyes and sniffed. “I wouldn't give any of it up. I don't regret ever taking his deal, because he opened my eyes and I learned a lot from him. I like to think he learned from me too. He worked as hard as, if not harder than, some of us, and I... I will always consider him my partner.”
Peter looked over at the marker. “It will never be the same without you, buddy. We're going to miss you.” He closed his eyes and his shoulders shook as a sob overtook him.
“Goodbye, Neal.”
*~*~*~*
A hand ran softly through his hair, gently caressing him. The soft pressure slowly woke him up and his eyelids fluttered as he focused on the face before him.
Sara's eyes were shining, and she had never looked more beautiful to him, despite the bruises covering half her face. She smiled and squeezed his hand.
“Hey, there,” she said quietly.
He threaded his fingers through hers and squeezed back. “Hey,” he murmured.
She leaned over and kissed him softly.
He smiled weakly, then closed his eyes and breathed in slowly. Her hand remained tightly clutched in his, a solid reminder that he was not alone. He might have lost everyone else, but he hadn't lost her. That's all that mattered now.
Their bodies would heal and their bruises would fade. Together they would move on and build new lives, and find new dreams. Be it as Marc and Claire, Alec and Jessica, or whoever. It’s all he could hold on to as he said goodbye to everything else-to a life he’d come to love and the people that had become family. But they were all safe now, and that was all he could ask for.
~FIN~
...for now!
Author's Note: Yes, that means there is a sequel where you'll find out exactly what happened to Neal and Sara. Did you really think I would kill them?!! The sequel is finished and with the beta! I hope to post after Big Bang finishes, sometime in October. I want to thank everyone who went along for the ride. This was a labor of love for me (and my beta!) for so long, I can't believe it's over. But I have a lot planned, so I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have, because this is not the end.
I also want to give a HUGE hug and thank you to my beta, sapphire2309, because this fic might not have ever reached this point if it weren't for her and all her support. *hugs*
Author: reve_silencieux
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Neal, Sara, Peter, brief appearances by everyone, OFC (N/S)
Spoilers: Season Five
Warnings: Spoilery - read if you must (highlight below)
Presumed character death - PLEASE DO NOT SPOIL OTHERS IN YOUR COMMENTS
Word Count: 33,300 (This chapter: 2500)
Beta: sapphire2309 and qwertyfaced
Summary: In this universe, Neal was not kidnapped, Peter never considered the DC offer, and life went on. Neal is finally off the anklet and has made a choice. One month into his new life in London, a stolen Chagall threatens to change his life.
Author's Note: I started writing this back in November during Season 5. I was able to weave in most of the plotline, but not all. So just keep that in mind. This fic IS complete, and I will post on Mondays and Fridays.
Previous Chapters: Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five
Peter pulled the car to a stop alongside the quiet road winding through the cemetery. He looked out at the expansive snow covered lawn, glistening and sparkling under the morning sun. It was a beautiful day. It had just snowed two days earlier, giving the cemetery an ethereal feeling, a sense of peacefulness that clashed with the heartbreaking pain that had taken over Peter since the fateful call one week earlier.
He wiped his eyes and took a shuddering breath, knowing that once he stepped out, he had to acknowledge that it was truly over-that Neal was gone. No more would he see the bright blue eyes of his best friend as he laughed and smiled in that maddening, frustrating way of his that screamed 'You know you love me!' even as he ran off to do something crazy. They might have said goodbye when Neal moved to London, but Peter had always expected to see him again.
It wasn't fair.
Peter knew he sounded like a child, but he didn't care at the moment. Neal had had everything going for him. He'd finished his sentence, accepted Sterling Bosch's job offer and was on track to having a normal life. A good life. Peter had half expected to get a phone call after Christmas saying he'd proposed to Sara. That was Neal, jumping into things, but if you looked closer, you'd realize that Neal always thought everything through carefully.
That's what made Peter so angry. For years, he’d thought Neal's recklessness would get him killed, but a stupid car accident took his life-and Sara's. After everything they'd gone through, after they’d finally made the commitment, having gotten past all the bumps in the road and the distance that had separated them. They didn't deserve this. He'd always liked Sara, and even though on paper they were an unorthodox couple, she was the perfect match for Neal.
Peter had never understood Neal's blind devotion to Kate, especially after the music box debacle, but he hadn't discounted his love for the girl. However, Peter had always known that Neal deserved someone he could trust, someone that could keep up with him yet ground him at the same time. Sara had been that person. Neal might have projected an independent, devil-may-care attitude, but Peter had seen how much Neal had wanted to settle down, to have someone he could grow old with, and have a family. It was the constant internal battle he’d fought between the man and the con.
It didn't matter anymore.
He looked up when he felt a squeeze of his hand and found Elizabeth watching him worriedly. It had hit them all hard-the news so unexpected, that many people at the office thought it a rumor until Peter had brought everyone together to officially acknowledge it. Telling Elizabeth that night (Peter hadn't had the strength to tell her over the phone) had been nearly impossible. She'd been devastated and without a word, they'd held each other for hours, mourning the man that had become a part of their family.
Even after telling Elizabeth, delivering the news to everyone else didn't get any easier. He and Diana had deliberated on who would tell Mozzie, and finally Peter volunteered, wanting to keep Diana's relationship with her occasional babysitter on friendly (if sometimes contentious) terms. But the idea of actually telling Mozzie terrified him. The man had been very protective of Neal over the years and had not hesitated to take his grief out on Peter and the FBI. Even though this had been an accident, the result would be the same. Neal had chosen to go straight, and for that, Mozzie would always blame 'the Suit.'
So, partly to have a buffer, but mostly so he wouldn't have to go through it twice, he called up June and asked to meet with her and Mozzie together. He figured they could comfort each other at least.
But he felt like a coward.
June took it hard, and watching her crumble had been like a kick to the stomach. He didn't know the circumstances of Byron's death, but he imagined Neal's death affected her just as much. She had looked after him like he was her own son.
Mozzie had gone silent. It had been unnerving, to say the least. Peter had expected outrage, accusations-anything but the stone cold silence. Finally Moz had taken June in his arms, murmured something to her, too soft for Peter to hear, but the look he'd given Peter said it all. So after quietly telling them that he would be in touch with further details, Peter had left, his tail tucked between his legs.
The mood at home and around the office was somber, the Christmas decorations and Holiday Party feeling starkly out of place and inappropriate as they planned a memorial service. The beauty and wonder of the season that usually filled Peter with such happiness now seemed to mock him, with its joyful music and smiles on even the rudest of New Yorkers.
There would be no Merry Christmas in the Burke household or the White Collar office.
They'd had to find someone from another department to handle the office today, seeing as the entire White Collar division was attending the service. Everyone had come to like and respect Neal during his time there. It was easy to forget the bad times now, and no one wanted to dwell on things that couldn't be changed when the man was gone.
“Peter...” Elizabeth gently prodded. She smiled sadly and he nodded. He couldn't put it off any more. Bringing her hand to his lips, he dropped a kiss and with a deep breath, got out of the car.
They walked silently towards the tent where chairs had been set up. A crowd was already forming, and he knew Neal would have been secretly pleased at how many people were there, especially from the FBI. He almost laughed when he saw Mozzie sitting amongst a small group that was trying to inconspicuously stay far away from the agents milling around. Only Neal would manage to bring together the two disparate groups without questioning glances or tempers flaring, itchy trigger fingers aside.
As they got closer, Peter saw Hughes separate himself from a group of agents and walk towards them.
“Peter. How are you?”
He blinked, and had to look away for a second before turning back to his old boss, trying to reign in the sob that was threatening to escape. “I've been better, Reese. It hasn't quite sunk in, yet. I keep thinking he'll call one day or I'll find a postcard in the mail letting me know he's off somewhere.”
Reese nodded and shoved his hands in his coat pockets. “It's a damn waste. He was a good guy, despite everything he'd done.”
Peter could only nod, unable to talk without losing his composure.
“Have you heard if they found the guy?” Reese asked, steering the conversation towards something they could focus better on.
He shook his head. “No. The police found the SUV abandoned, no prints. There's no clear video of the driver. Since it was stolen, they have no leads and are likely to close the case soon. Hit and run.”
“Damn.”
Peter mentally echoed his sentiment. When he'd called a friend in Interpol to get the police report, he'd been expecting the standard car accident. Someone ran a red light, or had a stroke or something. Finding out that the SUV that had hit their taxi had been stolen and there was no sign of the person responsible, it had left a bitter taste in his mouth. There would be no justice or even forgiveness.
Just unanswered questions and a broken heart.
The three of them walked back to the tent, and made their way to the front row. Diana and Jones were already there, sitting next to June and her granddaughter. They all smiled sadly at each other, and June looked ready to cry at any moment, her eyes red rimmed and watery. Peter leaned down to hug her and felt her shudder in his arms.
He sat down next to Jones, and looked out at the ground where a marker had been placed. Neal and Sara's bodies had been cremated in London and sent home. Peter, Elizabeth and Mozzie had talked and carefully made the decision to spread his ashes off the Amalfi coast, knowing he'd want to be free. The young man had loved traveling the world and this seemed only fitting.
Peter had made the decision to place the marker next to Ellen’s headstone. She was his closest relative, if not by blood, then by years spent loving him as if he was her own. It just didn't feel right to place him next to Kate. Sara's marker would be with her parents. They would have a small private service for her afterwards, and then their small group would meet up at June's. He had a feeling he wouldn't be fit to go to work tomorrow.
Diana leaned forward and said in a hushed voice, "I keep thinking that if Neal's watching, he's probably proud as a damn peacock, grinning that shit-eating grin of his."
Jones smiled wryly, and tipped his head in agreement. "Oh, he's watching, for sure."
"And probably upset that this is what it took for me to get a new suit," Peter added, his tone sobering at the thought of Neal standing next to him, critiquing the cut and his choice of tie. El had insisted on a new one, even though Peter knew he would never be able to wear it again. Maybe that was the point.
The service started a few minutes later, and while there was no casket to stare at, or physical body to bury, Peter felt himself choking up as he stared at the small marker bearing Neal's name. This was Neal's funeral. He wouldn't be popping over to his house and bugging him over breakfast or teasing him about his lucky tie. It felt unreal. Death was always a shock, he knew that, but he still couldn't believe that Neal was really and truly gone.
The priest finished and looked to him. Peter stood up after squeezing Elizabeth's hand and slowly walked to where the priest stood. He glanced around the varied group of people there-agents, staff, and criminals alike, they were all there for Neal. His hands fell to his side, and he wished he had a stand or pulpit or something to cling to, because he wasn't sure he could keep himself upright for too long.
“I-” he stopped, his voice breaking, and he cleared his throat. “I'm Special Agent Peter Burke, and I've known Neal for over ten years now. He was my best friend. It sounds strange, I know, considering who we were, but Neal was a special guy. I chased him for three years, and he sent me birthday cards and champagne to our surveillance van.”
There was a soft smattering of laughter amongst the crowd. He took a deep breath. “I had the chance to get to know the real Neal Caffrey-not the conman in the case file, but the man behind the charm and fancy hats. He had a big heart. I think the fact that he broke out of prison to find his girlfriend, with only three months left, says it all. Neal would do anything for the people he loved.”
He paused and the corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile. “Of course, it wasn’t always completely legal, but Neal liked to think outside the box.”
Peter looked to Elizabeth, who gave him a reassuring smile. He straightened and rested his hands on his hips. “I still remember the first day he showed up at my house. I found him on my couch, talking with my wife-petting my dog, and I was so angry. How dare he just waltz in like that? But he quickly became a fixture, a part of our lives-our family.” He shook his head and had to chuckle at the memories. “I can’t tell you how many times my wife called on him instead of me to do things for her. Of course, on the flip side, I got out of all the art shows and the food tasting. That was a win in my book.”
He watched as Elizabeth laughed and dabbed her eyes with a tissue. They really had been a family, he realized with a pang in his heart.
“Neal had his faults though. He made plenty of mistakes, but he always had the best intentions at heart. We might not have always agreed on the best way to do things, and there were times when he sent my blood pressure through the roof with his crazy shenanigans, but I trusted him to have my back.”
Peter wrung his hands together, and stared out at the cemetery, past the crowd of people. “We had our rough patches, and... and I said things over the years that I regret. But he always found a way to forgive. And we were able to move on.”
He swiped a hand over his eyes and sniffed. “I wouldn't give any of it up. I don't regret ever taking his deal, because he opened my eyes and I learned a lot from him. I like to think he learned from me too. He worked as hard as, if not harder than, some of us, and I... I will always consider him my partner.”
Peter looked over at the marker. “It will never be the same without you, buddy. We're going to miss you.” He closed his eyes and his shoulders shook as a sob overtook him.
“Goodbye, Neal.”
*~*~*~*
A hand ran softly through his hair, gently caressing him. The soft pressure slowly woke him up and his eyelids fluttered as he focused on the face before him.
Sara's eyes were shining, and she had never looked more beautiful to him, despite the bruises covering half her face. She smiled and squeezed his hand.
“Hey, there,” she said quietly.
He threaded his fingers through hers and squeezed back. “Hey,” he murmured.
She leaned over and kissed him softly.
He smiled weakly, then closed his eyes and breathed in slowly. Her hand remained tightly clutched in his, a solid reminder that he was not alone. He might have lost everyone else, but he hadn't lost her. That's all that mattered now.
Their bodies would heal and their bruises would fade. Together they would move on and build new lives, and find new dreams. Be it as Marc and Claire, Alec and Jessica, or whoever. It’s all he could hold on to as he said goodbye to everything else-to a life he’d come to love and the people that had become family. But they were all safe now, and that was all he could ask for.
~FIN~
...for now!
Author's Note: Yes, that means there is a sequel where you'll find out exactly what happened to Neal and Sara. Did you really think I would kill them?!! The sequel is finished and with the beta! I hope to post after Big Bang finishes, sometime in October. I want to thank everyone who went along for the ride. This was a labor of love for me (and my beta!) for so long, I can't believe it's over. But I have a lot planned, so I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have, because this is not the end.
I also want to give a HUGE hug and thank you to my beta, sapphire2309, because this fic might not have ever reached this point if it weren't for her and all her support. *hugs*