White Collar fic - Can't Be Both (Chapter 4)
Title: Can’t Be Both (Chapter 4)
Author’s Name: sheenianni
Fandom: White Collar
Spoilers: Season 3.10 - Countdown
Characters/Pairings: Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke, Clinton Jones, Diana Barrigan, Elizabeth Burke, Sara Ellis, Agent Kramer, June and others
Raiting: PG
Warnings/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~ 4,300 (chapter), ~31,000 (total)
Summary: In the aftermath of Elizabeth’s kidnapping, Neal has to make a life-defining choice - and then he has to face its consequences. Post 3.10 Countdown story.
This story is finished. New chapters will be posted every few days.
Prologue II Chapter 1 II Chapter 2 II Chapter 3
A/N: Okay, the amount of Christmas madness was extremely high this year; first, my little brother woke us all up at 6 a.m. (which made us SO very happy…), then we had to wait for my dad to repair the blender so that he could cook the fish soup…and to entertain my brother and keep him from sneaking around and finding the presents, I had him in my room - and he ended up reading this chapter aloud over my shoulder :D (Which, you know, is completely crazy. He’s nine, he has been learning English for only a few months now and I was completely amazed by his reading skills, despite the fact that he understood only about every tenth word. Well, life is strange).
This part would have been nowhere as realistic without my beta GrayWolf84, who knew much more about all the legal stuff in this chapter than me and was willing to do some research as well.
Enjoy!
CHAPTER 4
Neal is woken up some sixteen hours later by a gentle knock on his apartment’s door. After he realizes where he is, he gets up with a soft moan and realizes he is still wearing the same clothes from three days ago. Apparently Jones’s and Diana’s generosity included only half-carrying him upstairs, not changing his clothes (for which he is actually very, very glad. The first thing he’ll do after he deals with the knocking annoyance is take a long shower before he eats and then sleeps some more. He definitely stinks).
“Give me a minute, please,” he calls to the door and then quietly groans. The sleep has surely helped a lot, but he is still feeling giddy and - well, not really there. And he is really hungry and thirsty.
He at least rearranges his hair into something less resembling a mop, drinks some water and washes his face before he opens the door.
“June!” he says with a smile.
“Hi Neal,” she replies. “May I come in?” she asks and indicates to the tray with breakfast in her hands.
Neal would actually prefer her not to, but he can’t offend June’s hospitality, so he nods his head and smiles. “Sure. That’d be nice.”
June enters and brings the tray on the balcony before she fires the first question. “So what happened? How did it go? Is Elizabeth all right?”
Neal grimaces a little. “Would it be a problem if I took a shower first? I kinda want to get out of these…”
June smiles. “Of course not, dear. I’ll wait for you here,” she sits into one of the chairs outside. Her expression is telling Neal that she won’t leave until she hears the whole story.
“I’ll be quick,” promises Neal and grabs some of his clean clothes before he heads to the bathroom and finally gets out of the stinking rags that he promptly throws into the trash, an act that fills him with great satisfaction.
When the tepid drops of water hit his body, he feels like he is in absolute heaven.
That is until the memories of yesterday starts to resurface.
Neal groans. What the hell has he done?
* * *
“Here I am,” says Neal five minutes later, freshly clothed, with his hair wet and generally looking much more awake. June has to admit he looks very charming and cute.
While June isn’t a woman who falls easily for someone’s charm, she knows how to appreciate nice things - as which, Neal Caffrey certainly qualifies.
That doesn’t make her affection for the young conman any less genuine.
When she sees the carefully hidden spark of hunger in Neal’s eyes as he views the waffles and the other pastries, June laughs and decides to take mercy on him. “Bon appétit, Neal dear! We can talk later. Now, enjoy your breakfast!”
“Thank you,” says Neal with a smile and very quickly (but still with amazing dignity) begins to devour all the food on the tray and drinks up maybe three glasses of juice before he finally slows down and picks up his coffee.
June recognizes that as a sign that her young companion is no longer in danger of dying of thirst or starving and begins asking her questions.
Starting with the most pressing ones. “So tell me Neal, what’s happened? Are you a fugitive?”
Because, while June wouldn’t really mind harboring a fugitive conman (she herself has been on that side of law once or twice, after all), doing so would mean to take precautions. Serious precautions.
Neal sighs. “We’ve saved Elizabeth, and no, I’m not a fugitive… but it is a close thing.” He sets down his coffee cup, puts his elbows on the table and interlaces his fingers. “June,” he says quietly, “that lawyer you talked about…?”
“I’ll call her right away,” says June immediately.
Neal looks down and shakes his head. “Honestly, I don’t know how much help she can be. I did something stupid yesterday…”
“What happened?” asks June gently.
Neal bites his lip before he stares right into June’s eyes. “I confessed to everything. In front of five FBI agents.”
“Oh my,” exclaims June softly. “What possessed you to do this?”
Neal shakes his head and utters a small snort. “I’m still not sure I really regret it,” he says honestly and looks directly into her eyes. “But the thing is, I gave them all the proof they needed. … I’m in trouble.”
“Well, Jennifer’s father was my Byron’s lawyer when they arrested him, and he got him a pretty good deal,” says June. “He was also an attorney in a case when a man stole fifteen million dollars, impersonated a US ambassador, stole a few cars from some prominent figures and forged several very nice paintings.”
“And?” asks Neal with interest and picks up his coffee.
“The client got six years - ”
“Not bad,” says Neal politely.
“ - after he let his mouth run in a bar about half of the things they accused him of,” says June with a victorious smile.
Neal whistles. “Now that’s not bad at all.”
June pats his shoulder. “They say his daughter is even better.”
“I’m … not sure I can afford that right now,” admits the young conman in obvious embarrassment. “I do have some backup resources, but it would be really unwise to try to access them now, with the FBI scrutinizing my every step - “
“Don’t worry about that,” says June firmly.
The thief across her bites his lip. “I don’t want to take advantage of you - “
“Nonsense,” states June resolutely. “Trust me; I can easily afford to give you a loan. Besides, Jennifer and I have known each other for a very long time.”
“Really? How did that happen?” asks Neal curiously.
June gives him an impish grin. “Simply. Jenny is my niece.”
“Your niece?”
“Well, she is actually my cousin’s daughter… but she grew up calling me ‘Aunt June’. I’m sure she won’t refuse if I ask her a little favor,” says June confidently.
Neal sets his coffee down. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “I know you didn’t have to do this.”
“It’s fine, Neal,” says June compassionately.
She still knows very little detail, but from Neal’s call a few days ago, she understands that a con - some sort a really huge theft - has gone wrong, that it has torn apart Neal’s and Mozzie’s friendship and that Neal has been trying very hard to make it right after Elizabeth Burke got kidnapped.
June knows plenty about cons that went terribly wrong without it really being anyone’s fault.
She saved Byron from consequences of two such cons.
It was after the third one, five years after Byron’s release from prison, that he finally decided to retire his “night job” and settle into a much calmer, mostly legal life.
“I need you to give me a rough summary of your case so that I can call Jenny,” says June. “And afterwards, I want the full story.”
Neal runs his hand through his hair and looks away. “The full story will take a long time,” he says, obviously anxious what June will think about him when he finishes his tale.
June just reaches for one of the waffles and drinks a small sip of her coffee.
“Then it is a good think that I have a lot of time.”
Hesitantly, Neal returns her smile. Then he starts telling her a story about a submarine, old adversaries and one cursed, but marvelous, Nazi treasure.
* * *
“Well, from what you’ve told me, I think our best shot is to contest the voluntariness of your statement and proclaim that your Fifth Amendment rights were violated,” says Jennifer Clarke levelly. “If we can get your interview out of the picture, most of the evidence against you is circumstantial at best - “
“No.”
The lawyer speaks as if he had never interrupted her at all: “We can easily argue that you were coerced into making a confession. Given your condition on the tape and the fact that there were five agents present, it will be very believable. We can also later use the same line to exclude as much evidence as possible, thanks to the fact that most of it wouldn’t have been found if you hadn’t spoken to the FBI - “
“I said no, Jennifer,” says Neal tiredly. “I’ll readily listen to any other advice you have. But I refuse to withdraw my confession. That stays.”
It has been a subject of their argument for the last hour and a half.
“Mr. Caffrey,” says Jennifer slowly, “do you realize that if your confession stays, you are facing the possibility of thirty years in prison?”
“I’m prepared to take that risk,” says Neal calmly.
Jennifer frowns. “Neal, stop being so damn stubborn and stupid - “
“Impugning the statement won’t save me from jail, Jennifer, but if I do that, I will lose my friends and any remnants of credibility at the court,” explains Neal. “It’s simply not worth it.”
“That’s all very nice and perfect, but do you realize that you’re leaving me with almost no cards to play?” says Jennifer sharply. “If I am to get you out of this mess, then I need you to work with me. If you won’t withdraw your confession, I can’t really promise you anything better than twenty years. Are you sure you want to go there?”
Neal almost drops his coffee cup as his hands start to tremble.
“Is this friendship really worth this much to you?” asks June’s niece quietly.
Neal puts the coffee down before the cup breaks.
“It is,” he says steadily.
“If your friends are real, they will forgive you in time,” says Jennifer gently. “Help me, tell the court that your confession was coerced and involuntary, and I can guarantee you that in worst case, you’ll get out of jail at your fortieth birthday. You’re a brilliant conman. You can persuade the jury that you’re the victim in all of this. Show them your charm, play them, gain their sympathy and maybe you won’t have to do a time at all.”
Listening to her makes Neal understand why Jennifer is so successful at what she does: deep down, she is a con artist as well.
It sounds tempting, oh so very tempting. Neal has successfully lied to a jury before. In his head, he already starts imagining it - some facts couldn’t be hidden, so those would have to be kept and twisted to serve his purposes. Other things - like the forgery of the Degas - could probably be denied, as there is no direct proof against him. El has already passed the message to him that she and Peter won’t be pressing charges against him for breaking into their house. If it comes up at the court, he can claim he wasn’t after the manifest at all. The scrap of the painting is gone. If he tells that he had no idea that Moz had the treasure…
But even if Neal thought nobody would stop him, even if there was the chance that it would actually work, he knows that he can’t do that anymore. He is still a criminal, a thief and a conman, but sometime during the last few days, he has drawn a line that he now refuses to cross, even should it cost him the best years of his life behind bars.
Or maybe the line has been there for months, only Neal was too blind to see it then.
He looks back at Jennifer. The fact is, the charges against him are - bad. First Degree Criminal Possession of Stolen Property, aka Mozzie’s “gift” to him in the form of the Nazi treasure. First Degree Grand Larceny for the cursed Degas painting. Hindering Prosecution. Several conspiracy charges. Tampering with physical evidence. Together, they are about seven or eight felonies with a few misdemeanors thrown in to make the whole bunch more interesting.
Neal swallows.
“I’ll have some pretty good character statements from my colleagues at the bureau and one from Elizabeth Burke,” he says at last. “And… I think I want to plea bargain. I want the confession to stay, but I can sugarcoat things with the prosecutor, paint the facts in a more favorable light. I’ll lie, I’ll play the part of a victim; whatever you think the best as long as it doesn’t involve breaking the trust of Peter, Diana, Jones and the rest. Can you work with that?” he asks quietly.
“Let me repeat that. You expect me to base most of your case on character testimonies, despite the fact that you have a felonious criminal record,” says Jennifer flatly. She pauses. “Are you crazy?”
Neal gives her a charming smile. “I’ve been told you can make miracles happen. Can you?”
Jennifer makes a heavy frown. “Depends on how great those “character testimonies” would truly be… I suppose. Maybe. … Let’s see… I’m pretty sure that they’re gonna drop the felony escape charge themselves. There are a lot of factors speaking in your favor concerning that.”
“Like the fact that I waited for the federal agents to arrest me and practically put the cuffs on myself?” asks Neal with a spark of amusement.
“Yes, something like that,” says Jennifer disinterestedly. “The mere fact that they let you stay in your apartment speaks volumes about the “credibility” of that accusation. … Alright. Of all the charges, the worst are definitely the First Degree Criminal Possession and the Grand Larceny. Given your confession, there is really no way out of them - but with a plea bargain, we may be able to persuade the prosecutor to lower these to second or even third degree. That leaves us with conspiracy to sell stolen property, conspiracy to criminal possession, evidence tampering, hindering prosecution, a third degree burglary for when you took the Degas and some other minor charges.”
“You don’t think they’ll believe me if I state I was against selling anything from the treasure?” asks Neal after a small pause.
“Well, your testimony leaves us in a sort of shady area on that one… Yes, given the fact that evidence on this one isn’t foolproof, they probably won’t fight too hard to drop that. Actually, if you can make a really good impression on the prosecutor…”
“I can,” says Neal decisively.
“Since you will plead guilty to the bigger crimes, he won’t probably bother with the small ones - the misdemeanors, at least. But if you make a really good impression, we can get him to support a concurrent sentence instead of a consecutive one. He also might, and I repeat might, be willing to let go one or two of the lesser felonies as well,” says Jennifer.
Neal feels like he is starting to be able to breathe again.
“Even if this all works, that’s still easily ten years in prison,” warns him the lawyer.
Neal shrugs. “It beats thirty,” he says.
“Are you absolutely, completely sure that you don’t want me to get the confession thrown out of the equation?” asks Jennifer once more.
And here they go again.
* * *
When Neal opens the door, Sara gives him a tentative smile.
“Sara!” says Neal in an obvious surprise before he recovers and beams at her. “What are you doing here? Come in!”
She steps inside.
“Careful on the floor,” warns her Neal - just in time as she almost stumbles across a small pile of books halfway to the entrance.
When she enters, Sara immediately notices that everything in the apartment is upside down. There are several boxes on the ground; clothes lay everywhere, bottles of wine form a line on the draining board, the kitchen table is flooded with art supplies and - is that an hourglass on the desk?
It takes Sara a minute before she finds her voice again.
“Caffrey, what the hell is going on there?”
Neal offers her his most charming smile. “June has offered to preserve my things for me! She would even let me keep them here, but I thought it wasn’t fair on her, so they’ll probably go to the attic until I return.”
“You’re packing?”
“That’s it.”
Sara looks around in disbelief. “I don’t understand. You’re packing? Where do you think you’ll go?”
“Is that so hard to guess?”
Sara just stands there, her mouth hanging open. “I don’t believe this,” she says again.
Neal drops the smile and sighs. “Look, do you want to sit down? I know this place looks a little crazy right now, but I could get us some wine so we can talk.”
“Fine. Let’s talk.”
She drops herself onto one of the chairs while Neal carefully takes a good portion of his art from the kitchen table and moves it to his bedroom.
“Would you like white or red?” he calls from the bedroom and then returns to grab another armful of his things and puts then away.
“Red, please.”
Neal maneuvers his way between the boxes and handily opens a bottle of wine and pours them both a glass. He gallantly offers it to Sara before he takes the seat opposite her.
“So, what do you want to know?” he asks.
Sara looks around. “Is this real?” she asks bluntly.
Neal sights. “Sara…”
“This is not like you. What’s going on, Neal?”
Neal gently pushes his glass away. He puts his elbows on the table and lays his chin on his interlaced fingers.
“What’s going on is, tomorrow’s my parole revocation hearing.” His voice drops to low level. “Tomorrow afternoon, I’m going back, and I don’t mean just for the two remaining years. Even if my hearing on the criminal charges next week goes extremely well, I won’t see this place again for a long time. That’s what’s going on, Sara.”
“Oh Neal…”
“It’s not like I didn’t know this would happen,” says Neal lightly and stands up. “So,” he says, turning away from her, “any advice on how to pack all these things? The last time I remember doing something like this, I was fourteen years old.”
Sara snorts. “Seriously? You can’t think I’ll believe you haven’t packed on your own in the last seventeen years!”
“Well, I’ve made it my habit to travel very lightly,” says Neal. “Also, I usually didn’t stay that long in one place - except for prison.”
“Afraid of getting caught?”
Neal smiles brightly. “No, I wanted to commit as many alleged crimes as one lifetime can take.”
“Are you trying to tell me you were living on a crime-committing timetable?” asks Sara incredulously.
Neal looks up from the pile of books he’s putting into a box and gives her a wicked smile. “You didn’t know that, did you?”
Sara shakes her head. “You’re incorrigible, Caffrey,” she says flatly.
She immediately regrets it when Neal drops his eyes and looks away. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she says hastily. “Neal - “
“I understand,” he interrupts her and looks back at her. It surprises her that Neal is calm, collected and - honest. “I know you didn’t mean it in a bad way. Though you could have; you might not have been that far from the truth.”
Sara shakes her head and gets up. “I didn’t come here to judge you - “
“You have the right,” says Neal. “This has affected you as well.”
The next second, she kneels down next to Neal on the floor. “I won’t judge you, Caffrey.”
“Why not?”
She takes his hand in hers.
Hesitantly, Neal puts his free hand on her shoulder.
Sara leans forward. Neal meets her halfway.
They kiss.
It’s brief, just a gentle touch of lips to lips.
It’s Neal who pulls away first. “We really shouldn’t do that now,” he whispers.
Sara leans back as well. “I know,” she says quietly.
Viciously beating down the sadness, she softly squeezes Neal’s hand. “I came here as a friend.”
“Okay.”
They stand up.
“It was Elizabeth who put me to it,” explains Sara, feeling the need to elaborate. “She told me everything. She wanted to drop by, but she thought that wouldn’t be fair to Peter. And she’s still a little afraid of going out on her own. So she called me.”
“That was nice of her,” tells Neal hoarsely, and Sara squeezes his hand again. “How is she?”
“She’ll be fine,” says Sara honestly. “She’s a bit jumpy and she hasn’t been sleeping well, but she has the best support in Peter. Keller didn’t physically hurt her. Peter told me he’s thinking about renovating the house. El says she still likes it there, but it brings back memories, so he’s considering renting a flat for some time; let some company repaint the kitchen and rearrange the things there.”
“Will Elizabeth go for it?”
Sara chuckles. “He still hasn’t had the courage to even suggest it to her. What do you think?”
Silence.
“You wanted to know why I never stayed long in one place?” asks Caffrey suddenly.
“I can imagine - “
“This,” he looks around and extends his arms, “is exactly the reason. Because once you stay for too long, you get attached. You build foundations. You start to care. You let your guard slip, leave evidence behind instead of cleaning it up, until one day you wake to find the cops at your doorstep. You make friends, and then when you have to run, there are victims left behind. Your friends are hurt; you are hurt, and the pain won’t leave for months; years, even. One of the keys to being a good conman is to be able to leave at once. No regrets, no looking back, just a new forged ID and another set of memorized facts; another mark, another plan.”
“Then why did you choose that life?” asks Sara.
Neal gives her a bitter smile. “Well, in the very beginning it was out of necessity... which lasted about three or four months, by the way. I enjoy the rush,” he says honestly. “The money doesn’t hurt either, but mostly it’s about the challenge. Knowing that it’s your painting hanging in the world’s most famous museum makes you feel powerful, appreciated. Once you start, it’s hard to go back, even without the FBI breathing down your neck.”
“Sounds lonely,” says Sara neutrally.
“Maybe.” Neal walks to the table and absentmindedly picks up his glass of wine. “So, that is the reason I don’t really know how to pack a whole apartment full of stuff - “
“I could teach you,” offers Sara softly.
Their eyes lock.
“I don’t think we really have the time,” answers Neal quietly.
Sara frowns. “You won’t even try?”
“I’ve been trying for some time now,” says Neal. “It didn’t really work out.”
“That’s not a good enough reason to give up.”
Neal’s face turns solemn. “Then what is?”
“Neal - “
“What reason’s good enough, Sara?” asks Neal in a whisper.
The talk is no longer about packing things.
Silence.
“Let me help you with your stuff,” says Sara at last. “Any special thoughts about how you want them arranged?”
“No,” says Neal. “I just need to put them in the boxes.”
“Well, that’s easy, then.”
First, Sara lets Neal show her all the things he intends to pack before she starts telling him what to do and organizing everything into neat piles.
“What clothes are you gonna wear tomorrow?” asks Sara about half an hour later.
Neal sighs. “I - don’t really know - “
Sara puts down a handful of brushes and walks to Neal to envelop her arms around his neck. “Tell you what; I’ll help you choose.”
“Sara - “
“And after we clean all this up, you’re making me a dinner. Then we’ll sit and play a game of chess or whatever you have here, so that you won’t spend your whole evening thinking about tomorrow.”
Neal frowns. “I can’t keep you from going home - “
“I have everything with me I need for work tomorrow,” interrupts Sara firmly. “I’ve already spoken to June; she offered me a bed downstairs. ... I think you could use a friend right now, even though I don’t want us to get involved into something more right now.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” agrees Neal with a nod of his head.
“It is.”
After a while, they step away from each others and return to their work.
“So,” asks Sara after a while, “what are you going to make me for dinner?”
* * *
“… and I know how much you hate the therapist, so I’ve bought us a few treats while you were with her,” says Peter seriously.
El gives him a warm smile that makes him ache with happiness. “Okay honey, show me what you got.”
They’re sitting on a couch in their living room and Peter is holding both of Elizabeth’s hands in his.
“Okay hon. Close your eyes… don’t open them…. And wait for me.”
He slips her hands and walks to the kitchen. He returns quickly with a paper box, guiltily ignoring El’s shrinking when he unintentionally brushes against her arm. He opens the box to reveal all kinds of small cheeses, various kinds of spreads and salads and a small container with cherry tomatoes.
“One more moment…”
He returns with two plates, forks, some pastries, beer and a teddy bear that he quickly arranges on the table.
“You can look now.”
Elizabeth opens her eyes and squeaks in delight. “Oh honey, you shouldn’t have…”
“I didn’t have time to get candles…” Peter clears his throat. “You like it?”
“I love it! … Let’s indulge.”
And so they eat, laugh and cuddle, making one more step back to normalcy.
When El laughs and pushes Peter to his back on the couch, he finally knows that the two of them are going to be just fine.
A/N:
We’re now officially in the second half of this story - meaning, there will three more chapters and an epilogue.
If anyone is interested, I’m willing to give you a more detailed version of the charges against Neal - they’re all very real and come directly from the NY laws. They’re also pretty ugly - I felt a little sick just from seeing all of them, and I’ve known that it would be bad - not to mention I already had an idea about how this all is gonna end.
Happy Christmas, Chanukah or any of the holiday you might be celebrating!