White Collar fic - Through the Darkness to the Dawn (Part I/II)
Title: Through the Darkness to the Dawn
Author’s Name: sheenianni
Fandom: White Collar
Spoilers: This story is AU to episode 4x16 and takes place several months after Season 4. Minor spoilers through all four seasons.
Characters/Pairings: Diana Berrigan, Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, FBI Team, Mozzie, Elizabeth Burke, Amanda Calloway
Raiting: PG-13
Content Notice: A bit of torture (mostly off-screen), Language
Word Count: ~ 10,200
Notes: Written for sholio during the wcpairings exchange. Beta-read by the amazing theatregirl7299. Many thanks to aragarna who made me the lovely cover art :)
Summary: In order to take down one of New York’s mobsters, Diana takes on an interesting role when she and Peter go undercover. But when the case starts falling apart, she has to do everything in her power to save Peter’s life - and then make peace with her decisions afterwards.
PART I
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Although there are a lot of people who hate hospitals, their reasons are not always the same. There are those who complain about the sterility, the uniformity of the place. Others claim that it’s the “hospital smell”, or the quality of the food. Someone like Mozzie would be worried about being put into the system. But for most of the people who despise hospitals, the reason for it is that simply being there is associated with them or their loved ones being hurt.
As the hand of the nearby clock moves forward with an audible “tick” that echoes through the otherwise rather quiet waiting room, Diana decides that the worst of it is the waiting, the not knowing.
It’s been two hours since they took Peter to surgery.
Neal, who left for the bathroom about an hour ago and came back five minutes later with wet hair and droplets of water still on his face, is talking in a soft murmur to someone on his phone - June, perhaps, or Mozzie. Sitting on a nearby bench, Elizabeth has finally given up pretending to be looking through the suggested menus for someone’s thirty year anniversary and now is simply staring at the door, willing a surgeon or someone from the medical staff to come through and give them the news. So far, nothing.
Peter -
The doctors have their job to do and they can’t be disturbed. Yet, for a second Diana imagines grabbing someone, using her badge or gun and demanding answers.
Answers. Oh God.
She’s still wearing that charcoal black attire with pieces of leather, her hair pulled up in a tight bun at the back of her head. She wants to shed it, burn all signs of the role that she has been forced to play, far more convincingly than she would have ever imagined. Yet in the end, it hasn’t been enough to protect Peter from being shot.
At least the accursed knifes have been taken into evidence.
She can almost feel it in her hand. She sees the blood - Peter’s blood - as it slowly dribbles from the blade. And all the time, that look in his eyes, even as he screamed…
Diana clenches her fist so hard that her nails leave marks on her palms and swallows against the bile. Peter will be all right. He will be. Diana won’t accept any other outcome. Another glance at the clock tells her that it’s been two hours and ten minutes.
The small, detached part of her reminds her that a shot into the right shoulder isn’t that serious if treated properly. And the cuts were mild. Peter got help right away. They have every reason to believe that he will make it. She wills herself to listen to her internal voice of reason and stands there, motionless, listening to the clock on the wall.
Peter will be all right.
Then what is taking them so long?!
Diana’s silent prayers are finally answered when the door opens. Neal immediately hangs up and Elizabeth stands up from her bench.
“Family of Peter Burke?” asks the doctor at the door.
“That would be the three of us,” replies Neal before Elizabeth manages to find her voice.
“All of you?” The doctor gives Diana a highly skeptical look.
“How is my husband?” asks Elizabeth forcefully. “And don’t give me that crap the HIPAA laws - those are Peter’s friends and co-workers. What’s happening with Peter?”
The doctor gives her a displeased frown. “Mrs. Burke, the HIPAA is there to -”
“It’s okay, Elizabeth,” interrupts Neal and smiles apologetically at the doctor. ‘Later,’ his expression tells silently. Knowing enough about the laws from experience and Christie, Diana knows that Caffrey has made the right choice in doing a strategic retreat
From afar, they observe as Elizabeth talks to the doctor. Finally, the man leaves and Elizabeth returns to them.
“He said that that the surgery went well. The wound itself wasn’t that bad, but apparently Peter had them worried for a moment because he lost a lot of blood.” She takes a deep breath and makes an effort not to look at Diana. “They’ve also sewn the cuts on his chest. Hopefully the scarring should be minimal.”
Diana waits for the wave of relief, but it doesn’t come.
“When can we see him?” Neal’s eyes search hers.
“The doctor says that Peter’s been heavily medicated, but he should awake later this afternoon.”
Neal lets out a deep breath. “That’s good. That’s really good.”
There is a long pause as they take in the news.
Then Neal’s phone buzzes and he gives Elizabeth a grimace. “Calloway’s been calling me for the last hour. I put it off for as long as possible, but…”
“You can stay here if you want,” speaks up Diana suddenly. “I’ll take full responsibility with Calloway.”
Both Neal and Elizabeth look at her in surprise. It was the first time she has spoken since they arrived to the hospital. But she can’t turn into a mess just because things went sideways. It’s time she pulled herself together and got her head back into business.
Calloway won’t like her decision, but Diana’s facing a suspension either way and after the events with Pratt, she has little respect for her official boss. Besides, this was the second time Peter has been seriously hurt in less than six months. Elizabeth should have someone with her right now. And as she looks at Neal, she thinks he needs this as well.
“You were with Jones, so your report can wait. It’s me that Calloway wants to see the most,” explains Diana, ignoring the looks. She pauses. “Elizabeth, if there is anything we can do, any way we can help, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you, Diana.”
“I’ll keep you updated,” Neal promises her. “I’ll call you or Jones as soon as we know anything else.” He pauses. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” he asks with quiet compassion. “I could make up something for Calloway -”
“And then get thrown in jail. You don’t want anymore trouble with the boss, Caffrey,” says Diana flatly. Then she softens, because she knows how much effort that offer took from Neal. “Besides, hovering behind closed doors won’t do anything to help Peter. The least I can do is make my report and make sure these bastards go away.”
“Diana?” Elizabeth speaks up. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
Despite her boiling emotions, Diana somehow manages to look steadily into Elizabeth’s eyes. She isn’t surprised that under Elizabeth’s calm facade, there is a myriad of emotions: anger, accusation, worry and pity.
Diana can handle anger. However, the pity makes her whole skin crawl with something unpleasant. “I promise you, Peter will have justice. This will be an air-tight case if I’ve ever seen one.”
Elizabeth gives her a knowing nod.
“Diana? Good luck with Calloway.” Neal’s face conveys everything he won’t - can’t - say out loud.
“Thanks, Neal.”
And then, after exchanging a quick goodbye, Diana finally leaves to face things at the bureau.
* * *
The case started off simply enough when NYPD intercepted a bunch of forged one hundred dollar bills. At that time, the FBI team didn’t expect that the fake notes would eventually lead them to a much larger scheme which involved bribery, illegal gambling, extortion and several other crimes.
Through Mozzie’s intelligence and a lot of good old-fashioned FBI legwork, they slowly began uncovering the whole web of contacts. Finally, after six weeks of hard work, they learned the name of the guy on the top.
Justin Donovan was a businessman-slash-thug whose great-grandfathers had once ruled the New York City underworld. It seemed that his biggest ambition was to renew the crime empire that his ancestors had created before the FBI had brought them down nearly seventy years ago.
“He is good at covering his tracks,” admitted Jones when he explained just how Donovan was supposedly laundering the money from his gambling places through one of his seemingly legit companies.
Peter frowned. “And we’ve never come across this before, why?”
Diana grimaced. “Donovan’s uncle is a respected member of the city board. When there was some suspicion, he stepped in and smoothed things over.”
Neal lifted his eyebrows. “Politics and crime, connected since the beginning of civilization. You have to admit it’s classic.”
“We might have enough to arrest some guys lower in the foodchain,” suggested Jones.
“We can’t guarantee the charges will stick,” Diana threw her pen on the table in frustration. “If we arrest them, Donovan will get them some fancy lawyers while his uncle will make sure that his nephew’s name is kept out of it.”
“So in best case, we shut down his business,” concluded Neal. “In worst case, we’ll just inconvenience him. Either way, Donovan will go free.”
Peter shook his head. “I hate this. I hate it when guys like that evade justice because they have connections or because someone has too deep pockets.”
Diana knew they were all thinking about the same thing.
It had been four months since that fateful confrontation between James Bennett and Senator Pratt. Now, four months later, Diana still wondered how things would have turned out if Pratt hadn’t taken that shot at Bennett.
Ellen’s box had revealed incriminating evidence, but not nearly as much as they had hoped. Most of the events mentioned there had been long past their statute of limitations. What was more, the evidence had incriminated James nearly as much as Pratt. Doubts had then been cast on the origins of the box. As Pratt’s lawyer had stated, Neal was a world-class forger. The chain of evidence regarding the box had also been put under suspicion. Lastly, the impartiality of Peter’s statement had been questioned, especially when it had been revealed that Peter had cooperated with James and Neal and kept his actions from the Bureau.
In the mess that had followed, Peter and his team had been strictly forbidden from interfering with the case. In the end, the only thing that had stuck against Pratt was the shot he had fired at Neal’s father. However, the DA had believed his claims of self-defense and let him off with a slap on the wrist. The only victory that the team could claim was that Pratt had resigned from his position of a US Senator. However, even that victory was tainted when it turned out that Pratt’s temporary replacement was one of his close friends.
In the aftermath of the confrontation at the Empire State Building, James Bennett had disappeared again, Neal had almost been sent to prison and Peter had once more come close to losing his job.
In the end, things had calmed down, but nothing could take away the sour taste of their defeat. Pratt had gotten off, and he had been replaced by one of his own. Ellen’s murder went unavenged. Finally, they had come to realize that the corruption went farther than just Pratt - but they were unable to do anything about it. They had been thanked for their efforts - and it had been made clear that if they went anywhere near that case again, the team would be dismantled, Neal would find himself back in orange and Peter would probably be looking for a new job.
They hadn’t given up, Peter had insisted in private. But they needed to regroup and find new leads before they picked up the chase again.
Diana knew that Justin Donovan was nowhere near the level of Terrence Pratt, but it didn’t matter. If he was guilty, then she needed to bring him down, to prove that justice could still prevail even when politics got involved.
“We’ll get him, boss,” she stated resolutely.
“Then we better get some evidence, because so far all we have are shady leads that won’t even get us a search warrant, much less a conviction.” Peter stared at the members of his team. “We need to find ourselves an in.”
They hunched over the table and discussed the possibilities for maybe an hour before Peter decided to hand each of them their own task. Then they split and went back to their other cases.
* * *
Staring out of the window in Calloway’s office while her boss deals with a call that interrupted them, Diana wonders where it all went so wrong.
She could try and pretend that it was all just a matter of bad circumstances. However, Diana has never lied to herself and she isn’t about to start now. No matter how uncomfortable the truth feels.
They should have contacted Organized Crime once it became clear that the case was far much more complicated that the intercepted forged notes. They could have gone with Jones’s idea, started by arresting Donovan's underlings and footmen. They should have double-checked, triple-checked Donovan’s associates before they decided to go through with the plan. Finally, they shouldn’t have underestimated Donovan; they should have known that he would find a way to bring guns to their meet.
At that moment, Calloway hangs up and turns back to Diana with a big smile. “Well, that’s out of the way now. Now, where were we…”
“The ambulance arrived to take Peter to the hospital,” says Diana, in no mood for the usual games. “The suspects were arrested. Jones took them to the office while Caffrey and I went to find out how Peter was doing.”
“Ah, yes. There was that.” Calloway keeps staring at her with that unnatural fake smile. “So let me get this straight, Diana. You and Peter walked unarmed into a dangerous situation…”
She is enjoying this, realizes Diana. Amanda Calloway lost some of her backing with Pratt’s resignation, and she had faced an inquiry about leaving Peter’s gun unattended at the Empire States Building. While she had made an effort to appear impartial with them, it has been only a matter of time before she found a reason to get back at Peter and his team.
And now they’ve given her ammunition.
Diana knows that her actions will result in a suspension and an official investigation, such is the procedure. Hughes, was he still there, would have done the same thing. But when her new boss nitpicks through her whole report with almost palpable satisfaction, it takes all Diana’s resolve not to rise to the bait.
It is almost with relief when she finally takes out her badge, pulls her gun of the holster and lays both objects on Calloway’s desk. Then she leaves the woman’s office and goes to pack her stuff.
* * *
“I think I may have found our in,” said Neal the next day when they reconvened to talk about the case.
“Well?” asked Peter when Neal didn’t elaborate. “Would you care to share with the rest of the class?”
Neal smiled. “Funny you should say that. You remember the case with Oswald?”
“Your copycat,” supplied Jones promptly.
“Exactly. Well, we know Donovan has been trying to make a splash in the criminal underworld. He’s been doing rather well -”
“Hence the case on our table,” said Peter dryly.
“- but he still only small time compared to the bigger players. So the thing that our guy really wants -”
“He wants to become a big fish,” concluded Peter.
“You know, it crossed my mind that Donovan might have been stepping on some toes with his recent crime spree,” said Neal thoughtfully.
“So what? You want to approach him and spook him into thinking we represent one of the big players who has taken offence from his invasion into their territory?” asked Diana curiously.
“Not quite,” replied Neal seriously.
“If we approach him like that, he might deny everything and not give us any evidence,” explained Peter with a frown.
“Exactly. But if we got him thinking that we represent one of the big families who got interested in him and that we’re considering cutting him in -”
“He would be much more open,” finished Jones in a realization.
“You think he’ll go for it?” asked Diana skeptically.
Neal smiled. “Look, the first step of a con is to find out what the mark wants. Once you know what they want, you offer it to them. Donovan is obsessed with three things - money, influence and his family’s history. The thing is, even if he has doubts, he will want to believe that he has been noticed. He’ll think that this is his chance to make it big, the chance to finally move up the ladder.”
”He’ll go for it,” said Peter and cut off Neal’s speech. Neal shot him a mock-hurt look.
“So who goes in as the bad guy?” asked Jones.
Peter gave them a smug smile. “Well, since Neal mentioned the Oswald case, I already have practice at playing mobsters -”
“Actually, I was thinking more of Diana,” Neal interrupted him
“Diana?” echoed Peter in surprise.
“Well, Donovan has already seen me and Jones, and you said it yourself that he might have spotted you the other day. Diana is the one who’s most likely still in the clear.”
“You know, I’ve played two hookers, a secretary, a cigar girl… You didn’t think that you’d get all the fun around there, boss?” asked Diana in a deceptively mild voice.
“Well, ah, no! Of course not.” Peter gave her an apologetic smile. He shot a murderous look at Neal when Diana wasn’t looking. “If Neal has an idea how to pull this off, then let’s hear it!”
“All right. I talked to my sources -”
“Mozzie,” coughed Diana and Jones.
Neal gave them a megawatt smile. “As I said, I talked to my sources. This is what we came up with…”
* * *
When she leaves the office, Diana’s first impulse is to go to a shooting range to clear her head before she remembers that she no longer has her gun. She supposes she could go to the gym instead, but somehow she doesn’t want to face the other FBI agents just yet. Instead, she stops at the park, buys a cup of coffee and sits on a free bench, near to a small playground where a group of children play soccer.
As she is watching the carefree kids run around and laugh, with the sun shining on the beautiful afternoon, she wonders how surreal that moment actually feels. Just a few hours ago, she has been playing a vicious mob queen; brutal, emotionless and dead set on revenge. She and Peter have been held at gunpoint, and then she was forced to keep playing the role and pray that it would be enough to get them out of there alive before backup arrived.
They should have been three minutes away.
It was five minutes later when Diana knew for sure that the situation was even worse than she had thought.
Despite the bad situation, the ultimate decision had been hers.
The day is warm, but Diana still can’t help the cold from creeping up her spine. She finishes her coffee, trashes the empty cup and leaves the park with the kids behind.
* * *
“She’s called the what?”
“The Mistress,” Neal repeated patiently.
Diana shook her head. “The Peacemaker, the Dentist, the Mistress… Is it just me, or do all these nicknames really sound like something out of a cheap crime novel? You’d think that the criminal masterminds would have a better imagination than that.”
“Excuse me! I was twelve!”
“We know, Mozzie,” replied Peter.
“I think it’s a pretty cool nickname,” said Neal supportively.
“Liar. You sold your soul to the suits. Now you’re conning your friends.”
“Oh for God’s sake, we like your nickname,” snapped Peter, barely refraining from rolling his eyes. “Diana, tell him you like it.”
“I love the nickname,” said Diana with a toothy smile.
“See? She likes it. Everybody likes it. Now can we move on?”
“Suits.” Mozzie gave an overstated sigh. “I want it noted that I’m doing this under duress…”
The four of them were in Neal’s apartment, discussing the Donovan case. A bottle of wine and two bottles of beer later, Diana had been thoroughly briefed on the character she was supposed to be posing as - the Mistress, a lower boss of the Raccinis, one of New York’s biggest crime syndicates.
“Why her?” asked Peter at last.
“Because she’s high enough in the family and nobody knows what she looks like,” answered Neal immediately.
“Exactly.” Mozzie took a sip of his wine. “Look, the Mistress is a mystery, a shadow in the dark. Word is that she has been working for the family since she was a teen and quickly rose through the ranks. She became one of their top assassins before she turned twenty. She earned her nickname when she -”
“Okay, you already told us that story,” interrupted Peter, looking slightly ill. “I still don’t see -”
“I think I get it, Peter,” answered Diana thoughtfully. She stared at Mozzie. “You’re saying that even if he has doubts, Donovan wouldn’t dare to voice them aloud unless absolutely sure because he wouldn’t want to risk upsetting a psychotic killer with a knife obsession.”
“Now you’re catching on, Lady Suit.”
Peter sighed. “And you’re sure they won’t know what she looks like?”
Mozzie frowned. “Look, I’m no expert on the New York mob. But, as I said, the Mistress is a mystery. Some people say that she’s supposedly a Hispanic or an Afro-American. She’s ruthless, vicious, extremely intelligent - plus, she really loves her blades. But the people who meet her don’t exactly share details.”
In the end, Peter gave up. “Fine. But if this goes south -”
“It won’t,” interrupted Neal impatiently.
“We’re a good team, boss,” said Diana.
Peter nodded. “All right, let’s go through this once more…”
* * *
Diana isn’t the best cook in the world. On the other hand, she’s not the worst one either, so after spending nearly an hour trying to read a book and realizing she was still in the middle of the same page, she decides to occupy her mind by making an extravagant meal. She isn’t particularly hungry, but then she can always share it with the old guy who lived alone on the floor above her.
Twenty minutes later, she realizes it has been a mistake. She doesn’t mind cooking, that’s true, but it has never been her true passion. The last time she attempted something this elaborate was with Christie - and doesn’t that realization kill whatever’s left of her mood.
Diana almost hurts herself with the chopper at the unexpected wave of longing and pain.
She misses Christie.
It was clear in the end that they couldn’t make it work, and their break-up has been the right thing to do. Yet sometimes the ache hits her so forcefully that she almost calls a cab and goes to Christie’s place to beg her to take her back. She hates the empty place in her bed and hates watching sappy movies alone. She hates opening the fridge and finding everything the way it was there before, nobody stealing her favorite yoghurt. She hates that Christie’s not next to her right now, with a laugh and a hug and comfort. She needs Christie, and it’s not fair or right.
You’ve broken it off, Diana. Deal with it.
Chopping some paprika, Diana adds it to the mixture in a big pan and stirs what will become the sauce that will go with the meal. She realizes that despite today’s events, handling the knives in kitchen doesn’t bother her any more than it would have yesterday. But then she never shared Neal’s attitude about weapons. Weapons themselves didn’t hurt people, only other men did that. It was a lesson of responsibility that Charlie had drilled into her head before he first put a gun into her hands.
Or maybe the ease came with being an FBI agent.
Cutting some pork into little cubes, Diana puts it on another pan. Even as she continues cooking, she realizes that she is definitely not in the mood for a meal like this tonight. No matter. She’ll put it in the fridge when she’s done. Or maybe her neighbor will be hungry enough and rid her of her problem.
What will Peter be eating at the hospital…
Chasing that thought away, Diana washes a couple of tomatoes and forcefully focuses back on her sauce.
She will go to that nearby bar, she decides when she begins to fry the pork. Tonight, she will lose herself in listening to bad music. Maybe someone will capture her attention and she’ll even dance, although right now she doubts it.
The meal is almost finished when Diana’s bell rings.
* * *
Setting up the meeting with Donovan had been easier than any of them had expected.
Mozzie had commented that someone like the Mistress wouldn’t go to a meet alone, so in the end, they decided to send in not only Diana as the mob boss, but also Peter as her henchman.
“What is the job of a mob boss’s henchman?” Jones asked curiously.
Peter smiled. “I open the doors for her, look threateningly imposing…”
Neal chipped in. “Carry her bags, wash her shirts…”
“Feed her dog…”
“Make her coffee…”
“Break the kneecaps for her…”
“Make her ice-cream…”
“What kind of a crime lord eats ice-cream?” Jones shook his head. “Wait, forget I asked.”
“I don’t have a dog, but thanks anyway, Peter,” said Diana pleasantly and cut off the exchange between him, Neal and Jones. Then she shot him a mock-murderous look. “And stay away from the kneecaps. Those are mine.”
“Mob bosses usually don’t do the dirty business themselves,” commented Neal.
“The Mistress might,” said Jones dryly.
“Don’t forget that I’ve claimed the kneecaps,” hissed Diana threateningly before she and Neal burst into laughter.
Diana was hard-pressed to contain how much she was enjoying this. She wouldn’t admit it aloud, but it had been a while since she had had such an interesting undercover assignment.
“All right guys, let’s focus! We have a mobster to take down,” Peter interrupted them with a stern tone, but he was still smiling.
“Yeah, it’s definitely Diana breaking the kneecaps,” chuckled Neal. “Face it, Peter - she’s way more convincing with the evil act.”
“Let’s not beat about the bush, Caffrey. I see you don’t approve of the sort of help I hire. Would a demonstration help to change your opinion?” Diana’s voice was mild, almost bored. However, behind that, she projected an ice-cold, chilling undertone. Judging by the shocked looks of her colleagues, it worked better than expected.
Neal recovered first. “That was good,” he said approvingly.
Jones nodded. “Scary, but good.”
“Yes, good.” Peter cleared his throat. “All right. As I said, we have a wannabe-mobster to take down. And Donovan might not be Mogilevich, but we still shouldn’t underestimate him.”
In the end, it was decided that Diana would be wearing a transmitter, because she was going to be the one doing the negotiation. Neither she nor Peter would have a receiver though, in fear that such a thing might be too easy to spot. Neal, Jones and the rest of the team would be nearby, ready to provide help and arrest Donovan once they got a confession. They agreed on the activation phrase (“party”), talked about emergencies, covered every possibility that occurred to them.
They were determined to make sure that everything went as smoothly as possible.
* * *
“Caffrey. What do you want?” asks Diana flatly when she opens the door of her apartment.
Neal flashes her one of his huge fake smiles. “You hurt me. Why the suspicion, Diana?”
She gives him an annoyed look. “I’m not in the mood tonight. Go bother someone else, Neal.”
Diana knows she’s being unfair, but - damn it. While she thought she didn’t want to be alone, she didn’t expect to find Neal on her doorstep. Honestly, at this point she doesn’t want to see anyone from work, and Neal has the tendency to make even the simplest things complicated.
It is possible that Neal has sensed her thoughts, because he lifts his hand in an apologetic manner. “Look, I’m sorry. That wasn’t the best opening line. I just - I thought that today wasn’t a good day, and you shouldn’t be alone after that.” He makes a pause. “Can I come in?”
Diana sighs. “Fine.”
Neal follows her back to the kitchen. “Something smells good,” he comments approvingly.
Diana shrugs. “I wanted to kill time. It’ll be done in ten minutes or so. You can sit down in the meantime.” She waves in the direction of the kitchen table.
Neal smiles. “All right.”
They fall into silence while Diana is finishing the meal. Diana uses the time to pull her thoughts together. When she is finally done and turns back to Neal, she feels mostly collected and back in control.
“Well?” she asks. “Do you want to try some of my Pork Skillet?”
“Absolutely,” replies Neal with one of his smaller but more honest smiles.
After a short moment of hesitation, Diana pulls out two plates and puts some of the mixture on them.
“Water? Beer? I’d offer you wine, but it doesn’t really go well with this meal.”
“Water will be fine, thanks.”
“Suit yourself.”
Neal helps her carry the plates and utensils to the table while Diana fetches a glass of water for Neal and a bottle of beer for herself. She takes the place opposite Neal, opens the bottle with her knife and pours herself some of the beer.
Neal lifts his glass with a smile. “Cheers.”
Diana rolls her eyes, but she clinks the glass with him.
Although she knows about Neal’s criminal career, sometimes Diana still forgets what kind of gifts Neal needed to make it as a world-class con man. Therefore, she is slightly taken aback by his perceptiveness when he follows her unspoken wish to eat in silence and postpone the talk about the elephant in the room.
“It’s good,” says Neal a moment later.
Diana nods. “Thanks.”
She wasn’t in the mood for a meal when she was cooking, but now that she has begun eating, she is hit by a wave of hunger that reminds her that she hasn’t had a proper meal since breakfast. She begins devouring her dinner with gusto, not fazed even when she sees Neal’s small grin, and when she’d done with the small portion she put on her plate earlier, she stands up and goes to get some more.
“It looks like Grandpa Fred will be dining his own food after all,” she comments aloud.
“What was that?” asks Neal curiously.
Diana returns to the table. “Grandpa Fred, an old neighbor who lives above me. I help him sometimes during the weekends if I’m home and he’s having a bad day. Me and Christie used to bring him a meal occasionally. I thought I’d ask him if he wanted the Pork Skillet. I wasn’t exactly in the mood for it before.”
She realizes right then that her visits to her neighbor have grown much sparser during the last few months, and feels an unexpected wave of guilt. It wasn’t that she had any obligation to Grandpa Fred. And yet…
“I’m sure he appreciates it,” says Neal. Then he smiles at her. “And here I thought I knew you so well. Diana Berrigan, the charitable neighbor.”
“Not so charitable today. The pork is almost eaten.”
“Ah, well, who knows. Maybe your neighbor’s Jewish and wouldn’t care for it anyway.”
“I think I would have known that after living here for almost three years, but thanks for your helpful insight,” replies Diana dryly.
When they continue eating in silence, she realizes that Neal is willing to let her ignore the events of today if she wants, pretend that they never happened. However, Diana didn’t become an FBI agent by being a coward, and she is not going to start down on that path now. She swallows a mouthful of rice before she sets down her fork.
First things first. “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier,” she says honestly.
Neal stops eating too. “Well, I barged in uninvited and disturbed your cooking. No wonder you were upset.”
Diana shakes her head, not willing to take the escape that Neal is offering her. “That’s not the reason I snapped at you and you know it.” She pauses. “You were right. It hasn’t been a good day.”
“If you don’t want to talk about it -”
“You’ll let me ignore it until the end of the world. Thanks, but no.” Diana takes a deep breath. “How is Peter?”
“I visited him late this afternoon,” replies Neal. “He’s doped up, but otherwise in a good mood.” He smiles. “He asked about you, you know.”
The wave of relief, guilt and confusion hits Diana like a punch to her stomach. The fact that Peter’s alright - and she’s so genuinely touched that he has asked about her… Knowing Peter, it shouldn’t surprise her, and yet…She beats down the lingering doubt and focuses back on her guest.
“What about Elizabeth?” asks Diana. “This must be hard on her. It’s been only a few months since Peter had the car accident.”
“She’s holding up. She’s - well, she’s a bit shaken. She’ll be all right though. She’s just happy that she can be with Peter right now.”
“Yeah, I bet.”
There is a moment of silence.
“How about you, Diana?” asks Neal at last.
* * *
Continue to Part II
Author’s Name: sheenianni
Fandom: White Collar
Spoilers: This story is AU to episode 4x16 and takes place several months after Season 4. Minor spoilers through all four seasons.
Characters/Pairings: Diana Berrigan, Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, FBI Team, Mozzie, Elizabeth Burke, Amanda Calloway
Raiting: PG-13
Content Notice: A bit of torture (mostly off-screen), Language
Word Count: ~ 10,200
Notes: Written for sholio during the wcpairings exchange. Beta-read by the amazing theatregirl7299. Many thanks to aragarna who made me the lovely cover art :)
Summary: In order to take down one of New York’s mobsters, Diana takes on an interesting role when she and Peter go undercover. But when the case starts falling apart, she has to do everything in her power to save Peter’s life - and then make peace with her decisions afterwards.
PART I
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Although there are a lot of people who hate hospitals, their reasons are not always the same. There are those who complain about the sterility, the uniformity of the place. Others claim that it’s the “hospital smell”, or the quality of the food. Someone like Mozzie would be worried about being put into the system. But for most of the people who despise hospitals, the reason for it is that simply being there is associated with them or their loved ones being hurt.
As the hand of the nearby clock moves forward with an audible “tick” that echoes through the otherwise rather quiet waiting room, Diana decides that the worst of it is the waiting, the not knowing.
It’s been two hours since they took Peter to surgery.
Neal, who left for the bathroom about an hour ago and came back five minutes later with wet hair and droplets of water still on his face, is talking in a soft murmur to someone on his phone - June, perhaps, or Mozzie. Sitting on a nearby bench, Elizabeth has finally given up pretending to be looking through the suggested menus for someone’s thirty year anniversary and now is simply staring at the door, willing a surgeon or someone from the medical staff to come through and give them the news. So far, nothing.
Peter -
The doctors have their job to do and they can’t be disturbed. Yet, for a second Diana imagines grabbing someone, using her badge or gun and demanding answers.
Answers. Oh God.
She’s still wearing that charcoal black attire with pieces of leather, her hair pulled up in a tight bun at the back of her head. She wants to shed it, burn all signs of the role that she has been forced to play, far more convincingly than she would have ever imagined. Yet in the end, it hasn’t been enough to protect Peter from being shot.
At least the accursed knifes have been taken into evidence.
She can almost feel it in her hand. She sees the blood - Peter’s blood - as it slowly dribbles from the blade. And all the time, that look in his eyes, even as he screamed…
Diana clenches her fist so hard that her nails leave marks on her palms and swallows against the bile. Peter will be all right. He will be. Diana won’t accept any other outcome. Another glance at the clock tells her that it’s been two hours and ten minutes.
The small, detached part of her reminds her that a shot into the right shoulder isn’t that serious if treated properly. And the cuts were mild. Peter got help right away. They have every reason to believe that he will make it. She wills herself to listen to her internal voice of reason and stands there, motionless, listening to the clock on the wall.
Peter will be all right.
Then what is taking them so long?!
Diana’s silent prayers are finally answered when the door opens. Neal immediately hangs up and Elizabeth stands up from her bench.
“Family of Peter Burke?” asks the doctor at the door.
“That would be the three of us,” replies Neal before Elizabeth manages to find her voice.
“All of you?” The doctor gives Diana a highly skeptical look.
“How is my husband?” asks Elizabeth forcefully. “And don’t give me that crap the HIPAA laws - those are Peter’s friends and co-workers. What’s happening with Peter?”
The doctor gives her a displeased frown. “Mrs. Burke, the HIPAA is there to -”
“It’s okay, Elizabeth,” interrupts Neal and smiles apologetically at the doctor. ‘Later,’ his expression tells silently. Knowing enough about the laws from experience and Christie, Diana knows that Caffrey has made the right choice in doing a strategic retreat
From afar, they observe as Elizabeth talks to the doctor. Finally, the man leaves and Elizabeth returns to them.
“He said that that the surgery went well. The wound itself wasn’t that bad, but apparently Peter had them worried for a moment because he lost a lot of blood.” She takes a deep breath and makes an effort not to look at Diana. “They’ve also sewn the cuts on his chest. Hopefully the scarring should be minimal.”
Diana waits for the wave of relief, but it doesn’t come.
“When can we see him?” Neal’s eyes search hers.
“The doctor says that Peter’s been heavily medicated, but he should awake later this afternoon.”
Neal lets out a deep breath. “That’s good. That’s really good.”
There is a long pause as they take in the news.
Then Neal’s phone buzzes and he gives Elizabeth a grimace. “Calloway’s been calling me for the last hour. I put it off for as long as possible, but…”
“You can stay here if you want,” speaks up Diana suddenly. “I’ll take full responsibility with Calloway.”
Both Neal and Elizabeth look at her in surprise. It was the first time she has spoken since they arrived to the hospital. But she can’t turn into a mess just because things went sideways. It’s time she pulled herself together and got her head back into business.
Calloway won’t like her decision, but Diana’s facing a suspension either way and after the events with Pratt, she has little respect for her official boss. Besides, this was the second time Peter has been seriously hurt in less than six months. Elizabeth should have someone with her right now. And as she looks at Neal, she thinks he needs this as well.
“You were with Jones, so your report can wait. It’s me that Calloway wants to see the most,” explains Diana, ignoring the looks. She pauses. “Elizabeth, if there is anything we can do, any way we can help, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you, Diana.”
“I’ll keep you updated,” Neal promises her. “I’ll call you or Jones as soon as we know anything else.” He pauses. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” he asks with quiet compassion. “I could make up something for Calloway -”
“And then get thrown in jail. You don’t want anymore trouble with the boss, Caffrey,” says Diana flatly. Then she softens, because she knows how much effort that offer took from Neal. “Besides, hovering behind closed doors won’t do anything to help Peter. The least I can do is make my report and make sure these bastards go away.”
“Diana?” Elizabeth speaks up. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
Despite her boiling emotions, Diana somehow manages to look steadily into Elizabeth’s eyes. She isn’t surprised that under Elizabeth’s calm facade, there is a myriad of emotions: anger, accusation, worry and pity.
Diana can handle anger. However, the pity makes her whole skin crawl with something unpleasant. “I promise you, Peter will have justice. This will be an air-tight case if I’ve ever seen one.”
Elizabeth gives her a knowing nod.
“Diana? Good luck with Calloway.” Neal’s face conveys everything he won’t - can’t - say out loud.
“Thanks, Neal.”
And then, after exchanging a quick goodbye, Diana finally leaves to face things at the bureau.
* * *
The case started off simply enough when NYPD intercepted a bunch of forged one hundred dollar bills. At that time, the FBI team didn’t expect that the fake notes would eventually lead them to a much larger scheme which involved bribery, illegal gambling, extortion and several other crimes.
Through Mozzie’s intelligence and a lot of good old-fashioned FBI legwork, they slowly began uncovering the whole web of contacts. Finally, after six weeks of hard work, they learned the name of the guy on the top.
Justin Donovan was a businessman-slash-thug whose great-grandfathers had once ruled the New York City underworld. It seemed that his biggest ambition was to renew the crime empire that his ancestors had created before the FBI had brought them down nearly seventy years ago.
“He is good at covering his tracks,” admitted Jones when he explained just how Donovan was supposedly laundering the money from his gambling places through one of his seemingly legit companies.
Peter frowned. “And we’ve never come across this before, why?”
Diana grimaced. “Donovan’s uncle is a respected member of the city board. When there was some suspicion, he stepped in and smoothed things over.”
Neal lifted his eyebrows. “Politics and crime, connected since the beginning of civilization. You have to admit it’s classic.”
“We might have enough to arrest some guys lower in the foodchain,” suggested Jones.
“We can’t guarantee the charges will stick,” Diana threw her pen on the table in frustration. “If we arrest them, Donovan will get them some fancy lawyers while his uncle will make sure that his nephew’s name is kept out of it.”
“So in best case, we shut down his business,” concluded Neal. “In worst case, we’ll just inconvenience him. Either way, Donovan will go free.”
Peter shook his head. “I hate this. I hate it when guys like that evade justice because they have connections or because someone has too deep pockets.”
Diana knew they were all thinking about the same thing.
It had been four months since that fateful confrontation between James Bennett and Senator Pratt. Now, four months later, Diana still wondered how things would have turned out if Pratt hadn’t taken that shot at Bennett.
Ellen’s box had revealed incriminating evidence, but not nearly as much as they had hoped. Most of the events mentioned there had been long past their statute of limitations. What was more, the evidence had incriminated James nearly as much as Pratt. Doubts had then been cast on the origins of the box. As Pratt’s lawyer had stated, Neal was a world-class forger. The chain of evidence regarding the box had also been put under suspicion. Lastly, the impartiality of Peter’s statement had been questioned, especially when it had been revealed that Peter had cooperated with James and Neal and kept his actions from the Bureau.
In the mess that had followed, Peter and his team had been strictly forbidden from interfering with the case. In the end, the only thing that had stuck against Pratt was the shot he had fired at Neal’s father. However, the DA had believed his claims of self-defense and let him off with a slap on the wrist. The only victory that the team could claim was that Pratt had resigned from his position of a US Senator. However, even that victory was tainted when it turned out that Pratt’s temporary replacement was one of his close friends.
In the aftermath of the confrontation at the Empire State Building, James Bennett had disappeared again, Neal had almost been sent to prison and Peter had once more come close to losing his job.
In the end, things had calmed down, but nothing could take away the sour taste of their defeat. Pratt had gotten off, and he had been replaced by one of his own. Ellen’s murder went unavenged. Finally, they had come to realize that the corruption went farther than just Pratt - but they were unable to do anything about it. They had been thanked for their efforts - and it had been made clear that if they went anywhere near that case again, the team would be dismantled, Neal would find himself back in orange and Peter would probably be looking for a new job.
They hadn’t given up, Peter had insisted in private. But they needed to regroup and find new leads before they picked up the chase again.
Diana knew that Justin Donovan was nowhere near the level of Terrence Pratt, but it didn’t matter. If he was guilty, then she needed to bring him down, to prove that justice could still prevail even when politics got involved.
“We’ll get him, boss,” she stated resolutely.
“Then we better get some evidence, because so far all we have are shady leads that won’t even get us a search warrant, much less a conviction.” Peter stared at the members of his team. “We need to find ourselves an in.”
They hunched over the table and discussed the possibilities for maybe an hour before Peter decided to hand each of them their own task. Then they split and went back to their other cases.
* * *
Staring out of the window in Calloway’s office while her boss deals with a call that interrupted them, Diana wonders where it all went so wrong.
She could try and pretend that it was all just a matter of bad circumstances. However, Diana has never lied to herself and she isn’t about to start now. No matter how uncomfortable the truth feels.
They should have contacted Organized Crime once it became clear that the case was far much more complicated that the intercepted forged notes. They could have gone with Jones’s idea, started by arresting Donovan's underlings and footmen. They should have double-checked, triple-checked Donovan’s associates before they decided to go through with the plan. Finally, they shouldn’t have underestimated Donovan; they should have known that he would find a way to bring guns to their meet.
At that moment, Calloway hangs up and turns back to Diana with a big smile. “Well, that’s out of the way now. Now, where were we…”
“The ambulance arrived to take Peter to the hospital,” says Diana, in no mood for the usual games. “The suspects were arrested. Jones took them to the office while Caffrey and I went to find out how Peter was doing.”
“Ah, yes. There was that.” Calloway keeps staring at her with that unnatural fake smile. “So let me get this straight, Diana. You and Peter walked unarmed into a dangerous situation…”
She is enjoying this, realizes Diana. Amanda Calloway lost some of her backing with Pratt’s resignation, and she had faced an inquiry about leaving Peter’s gun unattended at the Empire States Building. While she had made an effort to appear impartial with them, it has been only a matter of time before she found a reason to get back at Peter and his team.
And now they’ve given her ammunition.
Diana knows that her actions will result in a suspension and an official investigation, such is the procedure. Hughes, was he still there, would have done the same thing. But when her new boss nitpicks through her whole report with almost palpable satisfaction, it takes all Diana’s resolve not to rise to the bait.
It is almost with relief when she finally takes out her badge, pulls her gun of the holster and lays both objects on Calloway’s desk. Then she leaves the woman’s office and goes to pack her stuff.
* * *
“I think I may have found our in,” said Neal the next day when they reconvened to talk about the case.
“Well?” asked Peter when Neal didn’t elaborate. “Would you care to share with the rest of the class?”
Neal smiled. “Funny you should say that. You remember the case with Oswald?”
“Your copycat,” supplied Jones promptly.
“Exactly. Well, we know Donovan has been trying to make a splash in the criminal underworld. He’s been doing rather well -”
“Hence the case on our table,” said Peter dryly.
“- but he still only small time compared to the bigger players. So the thing that our guy really wants -”
“He wants to become a big fish,” concluded Peter.
“You know, it crossed my mind that Donovan might have been stepping on some toes with his recent crime spree,” said Neal thoughtfully.
“So what? You want to approach him and spook him into thinking we represent one of the big players who has taken offence from his invasion into their territory?” asked Diana curiously.
“Not quite,” replied Neal seriously.
“If we approach him like that, he might deny everything and not give us any evidence,” explained Peter with a frown.
“Exactly. But if we got him thinking that we represent one of the big families who got interested in him and that we’re considering cutting him in -”
“He would be much more open,” finished Jones in a realization.
“You think he’ll go for it?” asked Diana skeptically.
Neal smiled. “Look, the first step of a con is to find out what the mark wants. Once you know what they want, you offer it to them. Donovan is obsessed with three things - money, influence and his family’s history. The thing is, even if he has doubts, he will want to believe that he has been noticed. He’ll think that this is his chance to make it big, the chance to finally move up the ladder.”
”He’ll go for it,” said Peter and cut off Neal’s speech. Neal shot him a mock-hurt look.
“So who goes in as the bad guy?” asked Jones.
Peter gave them a smug smile. “Well, since Neal mentioned the Oswald case, I already have practice at playing mobsters -”
“Actually, I was thinking more of Diana,” Neal interrupted him
“Diana?” echoed Peter in surprise.
“Well, Donovan has already seen me and Jones, and you said it yourself that he might have spotted you the other day. Diana is the one who’s most likely still in the clear.”
“You know, I’ve played two hookers, a secretary, a cigar girl… You didn’t think that you’d get all the fun around there, boss?” asked Diana in a deceptively mild voice.
“Well, ah, no! Of course not.” Peter gave her an apologetic smile. He shot a murderous look at Neal when Diana wasn’t looking. “If Neal has an idea how to pull this off, then let’s hear it!”
“All right. I talked to my sources -”
“Mozzie,” coughed Diana and Jones.
Neal gave them a megawatt smile. “As I said, I talked to my sources. This is what we came up with…”
* * *
When she leaves the office, Diana’s first impulse is to go to a shooting range to clear her head before she remembers that she no longer has her gun. She supposes she could go to the gym instead, but somehow she doesn’t want to face the other FBI agents just yet. Instead, she stops at the park, buys a cup of coffee and sits on a free bench, near to a small playground where a group of children play soccer.
As she is watching the carefree kids run around and laugh, with the sun shining on the beautiful afternoon, she wonders how surreal that moment actually feels. Just a few hours ago, she has been playing a vicious mob queen; brutal, emotionless and dead set on revenge. She and Peter have been held at gunpoint, and then she was forced to keep playing the role and pray that it would be enough to get them out of there alive before backup arrived.
They should have been three minutes away.
It was five minutes later when Diana knew for sure that the situation was even worse than she had thought.
Despite the bad situation, the ultimate decision had been hers.
The day is warm, but Diana still can’t help the cold from creeping up her spine. She finishes her coffee, trashes the empty cup and leaves the park with the kids behind.
* * *
“She’s called the what?”
“The Mistress,” Neal repeated patiently.
Diana shook her head. “The Peacemaker, the Dentist, the Mistress… Is it just me, or do all these nicknames really sound like something out of a cheap crime novel? You’d think that the criminal masterminds would have a better imagination than that.”
“Excuse me! I was twelve!”
“We know, Mozzie,” replied Peter.
“I think it’s a pretty cool nickname,” said Neal supportively.
“Liar. You sold your soul to the suits. Now you’re conning your friends.”
“Oh for God’s sake, we like your nickname,” snapped Peter, barely refraining from rolling his eyes. “Diana, tell him you like it.”
“I love the nickname,” said Diana with a toothy smile.
“See? She likes it. Everybody likes it. Now can we move on?”
“Suits.” Mozzie gave an overstated sigh. “I want it noted that I’m doing this under duress…”
The four of them were in Neal’s apartment, discussing the Donovan case. A bottle of wine and two bottles of beer later, Diana had been thoroughly briefed on the character she was supposed to be posing as - the Mistress, a lower boss of the Raccinis, one of New York’s biggest crime syndicates.
“Why her?” asked Peter at last.
“Because she’s high enough in the family and nobody knows what she looks like,” answered Neal immediately.
“Exactly.” Mozzie took a sip of his wine. “Look, the Mistress is a mystery, a shadow in the dark. Word is that she has been working for the family since she was a teen and quickly rose through the ranks. She became one of their top assassins before she turned twenty. She earned her nickname when she -”
“Okay, you already told us that story,” interrupted Peter, looking slightly ill. “I still don’t see -”
“I think I get it, Peter,” answered Diana thoughtfully. She stared at Mozzie. “You’re saying that even if he has doubts, Donovan wouldn’t dare to voice them aloud unless absolutely sure because he wouldn’t want to risk upsetting a psychotic killer with a knife obsession.”
“Now you’re catching on, Lady Suit.”
Peter sighed. “And you’re sure they won’t know what she looks like?”
Mozzie frowned. “Look, I’m no expert on the New York mob. But, as I said, the Mistress is a mystery. Some people say that she’s supposedly a Hispanic or an Afro-American. She’s ruthless, vicious, extremely intelligent - plus, she really loves her blades. But the people who meet her don’t exactly share details.”
In the end, Peter gave up. “Fine. But if this goes south -”
“It won’t,” interrupted Neal impatiently.
“We’re a good team, boss,” said Diana.
Peter nodded. “All right, let’s go through this once more…”
* * *
Diana isn’t the best cook in the world. On the other hand, she’s not the worst one either, so after spending nearly an hour trying to read a book and realizing she was still in the middle of the same page, she decides to occupy her mind by making an extravagant meal. She isn’t particularly hungry, but then she can always share it with the old guy who lived alone on the floor above her.
Twenty minutes later, she realizes it has been a mistake. She doesn’t mind cooking, that’s true, but it has never been her true passion. The last time she attempted something this elaborate was with Christie - and doesn’t that realization kill whatever’s left of her mood.
Diana almost hurts herself with the chopper at the unexpected wave of longing and pain.
She misses Christie.
It was clear in the end that they couldn’t make it work, and their break-up has been the right thing to do. Yet sometimes the ache hits her so forcefully that she almost calls a cab and goes to Christie’s place to beg her to take her back. She hates the empty place in her bed and hates watching sappy movies alone. She hates opening the fridge and finding everything the way it was there before, nobody stealing her favorite yoghurt. She hates that Christie’s not next to her right now, with a laugh and a hug and comfort. She needs Christie, and it’s not fair or right.
You’ve broken it off, Diana. Deal with it.
Chopping some paprika, Diana adds it to the mixture in a big pan and stirs what will become the sauce that will go with the meal. She realizes that despite today’s events, handling the knives in kitchen doesn’t bother her any more than it would have yesterday. But then she never shared Neal’s attitude about weapons. Weapons themselves didn’t hurt people, only other men did that. It was a lesson of responsibility that Charlie had drilled into her head before he first put a gun into her hands.
Or maybe the ease came with being an FBI agent.
Cutting some pork into little cubes, Diana puts it on another pan. Even as she continues cooking, she realizes that she is definitely not in the mood for a meal like this tonight. No matter. She’ll put it in the fridge when she’s done. Or maybe her neighbor will be hungry enough and rid her of her problem.
What will Peter be eating at the hospital…
Chasing that thought away, Diana washes a couple of tomatoes and forcefully focuses back on her sauce.
She will go to that nearby bar, she decides when she begins to fry the pork. Tonight, she will lose herself in listening to bad music. Maybe someone will capture her attention and she’ll even dance, although right now she doubts it.
The meal is almost finished when Diana’s bell rings.
* * *
Setting up the meeting with Donovan had been easier than any of them had expected.
Mozzie had commented that someone like the Mistress wouldn’t go to a meet alone, so in the end, they decided to send in not only Diana as the mob boss, but also Peter as her henchman.
“What is the job of a mob boss’s henchman?” Jones asked curiously.
Peter smiled. “I open the doors for her, look threateningly imposing…”
Neal chipped in. “Carry her bags, wash her shirts…”
“Feed her dog…”
“Make her coffee…”
“Break the kneecaps for her…”
“Make her ice-cream…”
“What kind of a crime lord eats ice-cream?” Jones shook his head. “Wait, forget I asked.”
“I don’t have a dog, but thanks anyway, Peter,” said Diana pleasantly and cut off the exchange between him, Neal and Jones. Then she shot him a mock-murderous look. “And stay away from the kneecaps. Those are mine.”
“Mob bosses usually don’t do the dirty business themselves,” commented Neal.
“The Mistress might,” said Jones dryly.
“Don’t forget that I’ve claimed the kneecaps,” hissed Diana threateningly before she and Neal burst into laughter.
Diana was hard-pressed to contain how much she was enjoying this. She wouldn’t admit it aloud, but it had been a while since she had had such an interesting undercover assignment.
“All right guys, let’s focus! We have a mobster to take down,” Peter interrupted them with a stern tone, but he was still smiling.
“Yeah, it’s definitely Diana breaking the kneecaps,” chuckled Neal. “Face it, Peter - she’s way more convincing with the evil act.”
“Let’s not beat about the bush, Caffrey. I see you don’t approve of the sort of help I hire. Would a demonstration help to change your opinion?” Diana’s voice was mild, almost bored. However, behind that, she projected an ice-cold, chilling undertone. Judging by the shocked looks of her colleagues, it worked better than expected.
Neal recovered first. “That was good,” he said approvingly.
Jones nodded. “Scary, but good.”
“Yes, good.” Peter cleared his throat. “All right. As I said, we have a wannabe-mobster to take down. And Donovan might not be Mogilevich, but we still shouldn’t underestimate him.”
In the end, it was decided that Diana would be wearing a transmitter, because she was going to be the one doing the negotiation. Neither she nor Peter would have a receiver though, in fear that such a thing might be too easy to spot. Neal, Jones and the rest of the team would be nearby, ready to provide help and arrest Donovan once they got a confession. They agreed on the activation phrase (“party”), talked about emergencies, covered every possibility that occurred to them.
They were determined to make sure that everything went as smoothly as possible.
* * *
“Caffrey. What do you want?” asks Diana flatly when she opens the door of her apartment.
Neal flashes her one of his huge fake smiles. “You hurt me. Why the suspicion, Diana?”
She gives him an annoyed look. “I’m not in the mood tonight. Go bother someone else, Neal.”
Diana knows she’s being unfair, but - damn it. While she thought she didn’t want to be alone, she didn’t expect to find Neal on her doorstep. Honestly, at this point she doesn’t want to see anyone from work, and Neal has the tendency to make even the simplest things complicated.
It is possible that Neal has sensed her thoughts, because he lifts his hand in an apologetic manner. “Look, I’m sorry. That wasn’t the best opening line. I just - I thought that today wasn’t a good day, and you shouldn’t be alone after that.” He makes a pause. “Can I come in?”
Diana sighs. “Fine.”
Neal follows her back to the kitchen. “Something smells good,” he comments approvingly.
Diana shrugs. “I wanted to kill time. It’ll be done in ten minutes or so. You can sit down in the meantime.” She waves in the direction of the kitchen table.
Neal smiles. “All right.”
They fall into silence while Diana is finishing the meal. Diana uses the time to pull her thoughts together. When she is finally done and turns back to Neal, she feels mostly collected and back in control.
“Well?” she asks. “Do you want to try some of my Pork Skillet?”
“Absolutely,” replies Neal with one of his smaller but more honest smiles.
After a short moment of hesitation, Diana pulls out two plates and puts some of the mixture on them.
“Water? Beer? I’d offer you wine, but it doesn’t really go well with this meal.”
“Water will be fine, thanks.”
“Suit yourself.”
Neal helps her carry the plates and utensils to the table while Diana fetches a glass of water for Neal and a bottle of beer for herself. She takes the place opposite Neal, opens the bottle with her knife and pours herself some of the beer.
Neal lifts his glass with a smile. “Cheers.”
Diana rolls her eyes, but she clinks the glass with him.
Although she knows about Neal’s criminal career, sometimes Diana still forgets what kind of gifts Neal needed to make it as a world-class con man. Therefore, she is slightly taken aback by his perceptiveness when he follows her unspoken wish to eat in silence and postpone the talk about the elephant in the room.
“It’s good,” says Neal a moment later.
Diana nods. “Thanks.”
She wasn’t in the mood for a meal when she was cooking, but now that she has begun eating, she is hit by a wave of hunger that reminds her that she hasn’t had a proper meal since breakfast. She begins devouring her dinner with gusto, not fazed even when she sees Neal’s small grin, and when she’d done with the small portion she put on her plate earlier, she stands up and goes to get some more.
“It looks like Grandpa Fred will be dining his own food after all,” she comments aloud.
“What was that?” asks Neal curiously.
Diana returns to the table. “Grandpa Fred, an old neighbor who lives above me. I help him sometimes during the weekends if I’m home and he’s having a bad day. Me and Christie used to bring him a meal occasionally. I thought I’d ask him if he wanted the Pork Skillet. I wasn’t exactly in the mood for it before.”
She realizes right then that her visits to her neighbor have grown much sparser during the last few months, and feels an unexpected wave of guilt. It wasn’t that she had any obligation to Grandpa Fred. And yet…
“I’m sure he appreciates it,” says Neal. Then he smiles at her. “And here I thought I knew you so well. Diana Berrigan, the charitable neighbor.”
“Not so charitable today. The pork is almost eaten.”
“Ah, well, who knows. Maybe your neighbor’s Jewish and wouldn’t care for it anyway.”
“I think I would have known that after living here for almost three years, but thanks for your helpful insight,” replies Diana dryly.
When they continue eating in silence, she realizes that Neal is willing to let her ignore the events of today if she wants, pretend that they never happened. However, Diana didn’t become an FBI agent by being a coward, and she is not going to start down on that path now. She swallows a mouthful of rice before she sets down her fork.
First things first. “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier,” she says honestly.
Neal stops eating too. “Well, I barged in uninvited and disturbed your cooking. No wonder you were upset.”
Diana shakes her head, not willing to take the escape that Neal is offering her. “That’s not the reason I snapped at you and you know it.” She pauses. “You were right. It hasn’t been a good day.”
“If you don’t want to talk about it -”
“You’ll let me ignore it until the end of the world. Thanks, but no.” Diana takes a deep breath. “How is Peter?”
“I visited him late this afternoon,” replies Neal. “He’s doped up, but otherwise in a good mood.” He smiles. “He asked about you, you know.”
The wave of relief, guilt and confusion hits Diana like a punch to her stomach. The fact that Peter’s alright - and she’s so genuinely touched that he has asked about her… Knowing Peter, it shouldn’t surprise her, and yet…She beats down the lingering doubt and focuses back on her guest.
“What about Elizabeth?” asks Diana. “This must be hard on her. It’s been only a few months since Peter had the car accident.”
“She’s holding up. She’s - well, she’s a bit shaken. She’ll be all right though. She’s just happy that she can be with Peter right now.”
“Yeah, I bet.”
There is a moment of silence.
“How about you, Diana?” asks Neal at last.
* * *
Continue to Part II