Fic: "Beyond the Sea" 4/5
Title: Beyond the Sea
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairing: Neal, Peter, Neal/OFC, past Neal/Kate
Rating: Teen
Contains: Amnesia. Medical trauma.
Word count: 27,000
Summary: Pre-series. Neal Caffrey is happily eluding the Feds when a sailing accident robs him of his memories and, consequently, his identity. As he recovers, he takes takes refuge in his new girlfriend, who helps him rediscover his identity as Steve Tabernackle, jet-setting millionaire. But when Steve returns to New York, it doesn't take long for his past to catch up with him.
Notes: Written for whitecollar_bb. This fic is an AU taking place around the time of Neal's arrest in "Forging Bonds."
It was a testament to how dull house arrest was that Neal was glad to go to the U.S. Attorney's offices to discuss plea bargains. It didn't help that things were frosty between him and Annabelle.
He'd been allotted an incredible five hours away from the apartment. It was meant to ensure he'd have plenty of time to meet with the prosecutor, but if he got done early, there was nothing stopping him from running errands or simply enjoying himself. As long as he stayed in Manhattan.
But for now, there was the meeting to focus on. He was in a small meeting room with Griffin by his side and Morales seated in front of him.
"Okay," Morales said, "here's what's on the table: you plead guilty to the possession of fake passports and three counts of fraud in relation to the forged bonds. The remaining fraud charges and the charges related to the theft of the Raphael will be dropped."
"Very convenient," Griffin said, "that you're offering to drop the charges that will be hardest to get a conviction on."
"Well," Morales said with a shrug, "I don't recommend that your client tempts his fate."
"And I'm not going to recommend that my client plead guilty to crimes he has no memory of committing, and no compelling reason to think he did."
The latter part was an exaggeration, but Neal was happy to pretend it was true.
"I'm afraid I agree with my attorney," he said. "I think it would be wrong to plead guilty if I don't believe I am."
Morales closed the file in front of her and started to get up. "Then I guess we don't have much more to discuss today. Give the offer some thought, and get back to us if you change your mind. And Mr. Caffrey, I suggest you think quickly and carefully, because I can't promise this offer will be on the table once your case goes to trial. I'll remind you that if you're convicted on all charges, you could be facing many years in prison."
The thought of spending years in prison was somewhat of an abstract concept to him when his memory was so limited.
Still, that didn't mean he liked the idea.
As they left, Griffin tried to reassure him. "True me, we can do better at trial than if we went with that deal."
"Yeah," Neal said, his rising irritability creeping into his voice. "Unless they find me guilty on all charges."
"That won't happen. Listen, I need to get to another appointment, but I'm heading in the direction of Annabelle's place. Want to share a cab?"
"Nah, that's all right. I have a couple hours before I need to get back."
"Sure," Griffin said with an understanding smile. "Enjoy the temporary freedom."
"Freedom" was a little generous, but Neal would take what he could get.
He waited until Griffin was in his cab and riding away before he started walking. A few blocks later, he found Mozzie waiting for him by a food truck. He was holding two falafels.
"Ah," Mozzie said. "There you are. Here-I got you some lunch." He handed one of the falafels to Neal.
"Excellent, thank you."
They started to walk side by side. "What did you want to talk about?" Mozzie asked.
"I'm moving on Monday. The marshals are transferring me to my apartment."
"What? Why? Is Annabelle kicking you out?"
"She thinks it's best if we don't live together anymore."
"It's because I brought Kate over, isn't it? Did Kate say something to her?" Mozzie waved his arms, almost spilling falafel filling on Neal's suit.
"It's not Kate's fault. Or yours. I think reality is just setting in. The thing is, my finances are going to be a problem. The Feds have frozen my bank account, and if I'm found guilty on the bond forgery, I'm probably going to have to pay restitution. I still have some bills from my hospital stay that the Pryors didn't cover, and I'm going to have legal fees. I was counting on Annabelle's help."
"Don't say another word. If you need money, I can get you cash."
"It's not going to be that simple. The Feds are watching me closely. I just want to know...is what they're saying true? Do I have things stashed away?"
Mozzie grinned like an idiot. "Oh, I'll say. You could start your own small, eclectic museum."
"Do you know where the stuff is?"
"Yeah. I mean, most of it."
Neal sucked in his breath. He couldn't believe he was talking about this. So much for not being the old Neal Caffrey anymore. "Okay. I don't want to do anything right now. I just wanted to know."
They walked and ate in silence for a few minutes, and Neal took in the atmosphere. He could see why he'd lived here. It was such a lively city when he wasn't trapped in an apartment.
"Listen," Mozzie said slowly, "now that Annabelle isn't a concern, have you considered...not sticking around?"
Neal turned his head and raised his eyebrows. "What? And run?"
"Sure. That's what the old Neal would've done."
He shook his head. "I don't know...."
"I do. Look, do you trust me?"
"Yeah...."
"Then let me arrange it. I can get you cash and transportation."
Neal looked down at his anklet. "If I cut the anklet, there's supposed to be a five-minute response time."
"Think of it as a five-minute head start. Look, just think about it, okay? You've got a chance to get away from all this. I'll find us a nice island without an extradition policy."
"So, what, I end up on the run for the rest of my life?"
"You've been on the run for the past few years. What's the difference?"
The difference was he couldn't remember the last few years. He didn't know how to be on the run. Still, Mozzie's offer was tempting.
"I'll think about it."
* * *
"In your opinion," Griffin asked, "is Mr. Caffrey capable of handling a trial at this time?"
Dr. Mackey, the neurologist Neal had been seeing since his return to New York, was on the witness stand. The hearing was supposed to determine if the trial should be delayed.
"Well," Dr. Mackey said, "physically, Mr. Caffrey is still weak and suffers from unpredictable symptoms. Since his accident, he's suffered from severe headaches and nausea, and I think it's likely that if the trial proceeds at this time, he won't be able to be in court every day."
"And is Mr. Caffrey's condition likely to improve?"
"That's difficult to say. Head injuries can cause long-term problems. Mr. Caffrey has recovered well, considering. His condition may continue to improve."
"Thank you. That will be all."
Griffin walked back over to where Neal was seated, and Morales got up to question Dr. Mackey.
"So far, Mr. Caffrey has been able to make it to most meetings and hearings with minimal problems. Why wouldn't he be able to handle a trial?"
"Well, there's a difference between being in court for one day, or attending a meeting for an hour, and having to be in court for several days in a row for an extended time. Right now, the best way for him to manage his condition is to rest frequently."
"And if his condition doesn't improve, what then? He doesn't strike me as being sick enough to avoid his responsibilities indefinitely."
Dr. Mackey considered that for a moment. "No, of course not. Obviously, the long-term goal is to help him manage any lingering effects from his head trauma. But based on his improvement so far, and other cases I've treated, I think it's very likely that his symptoms will be less debilitating in three or six months down the road."
"And what about Mr. Caffrey's memory? If the trial is delayed, is it possible that Mr. Caffrey will regain his memory and be able to testify on his behalf?"
Neal wasn't expecting this line of questioning. He'd assumed the prosecution would want to prevent the trial from being delayed, but Morales seemed to be going in a different direction.
"Well, again, that's difficult to predict. Amnesia patients have been known to recover spontaneously, and I think it's likely that Mr. Caffrey will gradually recover his memories. But it may take some time before he can remember the period of time relating to his charges."
Before the judge made his decision, both Griffin and Morales were allowed to speak. When it was Morales' turn, she confirmed Neal's suspicions.
"Your honor, the U.S. Attorney's office has decided that it's willing to delay the trial for a short time if it might allow the defendant a chance for greater participation. I hope to question Mr. Caffrey on the stand, and I understand that he'll be unable to answer questions related to the case at the present time."
In the end, it only took a few hours for a decision to be made: the trial would be delayed six months in order to give Neal a chance to further recover. Neal knew he was supposed to be pleased with this result, but he was starting to suspect he was screwed either way.
Once they were out of the courtroom, he confronted Griffin.
"I thought this was supposed to be for our benefit, not the prosecution's. Our whole case is based around the fact that if I can't remember anything, I can't exonerate myself. Remind me again how delaying helps us."
"Look, it seems unlikely that you'll remember much six months from now. Our defense will still work, and this way, we'll have more time to dig into your past for evidence that will help us."
Neal wasn't sure he agreed, and he was starting to regret not questioning Griffin's approach more. He'd been prone to confusion after his accident, and it'd been so easy to let other people guide him, tell him what he should do. Annabelle. Her father. Griffin. He should have been more active in planning his defense.
He returned to his apartment, where he'd been on house arrest now for over a week. It wasn't as nice as Annabelle's place, and it still didn't feel like his, but he could make it his. Aside from the rules imposed on him by the marshals, he was free to do what he wanted in his own home. There was some power in that, and he realized it was a power he'd been missing for a while now.
He took off his suit jacket, tie, and shoes, and lay down on the bed to rest his head. He was still resting when there was a knock on the door. He got up with a groan and walked over. Looking through the peephole, he was surprised to see Annabelle.
"Hi," she said quietly when he opened the door.
"What are you doing here?"
She held up a canvas bag. "You left a few things at my place. I thought I'd bring them over."
Neal stepped aside to let her in. "Thanks," he said.
"No problem. Didn't you have a hearing today? How'd it go?"
"My trial's been delayed for six months."
"That's good, right?"
"Yeah. Now I get to spend six more months with this." He pulled up his pant leg to show his anklet. He rubbed his forehead. "Sorry, it's been a long day. Thanks for bringing my stuff. Do you want a drink?"
She set the bag on the sofa. "No, thank you. I'm on my way to meet friends, actually." She started to walk to the door, and stopped. He clasped her hands in front of her. Her posture reminded Neal of a bird-graceful but fragile. "I'm really sorry. I feel terrible that I made you leave."
"Don't," Neal said softly. "Listen, you were smart. I'm not the man you thought I was. I wish I was, but after everything you've done for me, I need to be honest. You're a sweet person-you don't need to be mixed up in this."
She blinked away tears. "It was my fault."
"What?"
"The accident. I let go of the boom."
Neal swallowed.
"It's not the only reason I helped you," she said, her voice breaking. "I really did care about you. And I feel terrible about what happened. I just wanted to give you your life back."
"It was an accident," he said numbly. "It could have happened to anyone. I didn't even think about whose fault it was." He walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. He pulled her into a hug, and she wrapped her arms around his back.
He didn't blame her. But he realized now that they were never going to get back together. There was too little honesty to base a relationship on, and too little to keep them together now.
As she pulled away, Annabelle said, "My father didn't want me to say anything because he thought you might sue. But I don't want you think that's why I didn't tell you. I just felt bad."
He squeezed her shoulders one last time before letting her go. "It's all right. I think we're even."
She gave him a soft peck on the lips and walked out the door.
* * *
Neal had a packed duffle bag hidden above a ceiling tile in the bathroom. After Annabelle left, he stood up on the toilet and got the bag down.
It had everything he would need if he went on the run, including a new passport and an envelope full of cash that Mozzie had given him the other day. He didn't feel right keeping this stuff in his apartment, even if it was well-hidden. If it was discovered, he'd go straight back to lockup. And Mozzie was on him to make a decision.
If he wanted, he could be in another country within a day or two. That was, assuming Mozzie could be trusted. But was he ready for a life on the run? Was it better to spend the rest of his life hiding, or a finite number of years in prison?
He put the bag back in its hiding place, making sure he put the tile back properly. Then, he made his way into the living room, and picked up his phone.
Chapter 5 and Epilogue
This entry was originally posted at http://citrinesunset.dreamwidth.org/127570.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairing: Neal, Peter, Neal/OFC, past Neal/Kate
Rating: Teen
Contains: Amnesia. Medical trauma.
Word count: 27,000
Summary: Pre-series. Neal Caffrey is happily eluding the Feds when a sailing accident robs him of his memories and, consequently, his identity. As he recovers, he takes takes refuge in his new girlfriend, who helps him rediscover his identity as Steve Tabernackle, jet-setting millionaire. But when Steve returns to New York, it doesn't take long for his past to catch up with him.
Notes: Written for whitecollar_bb. This fic is an AU taking place around the time of Neal's arrest in "Forging Bonds."
It was a testament to how dull house arrest was that Neal was glad to go to the U.S. Attorney's offices to discuss plea bargains. It didn't help that things were frosty between him and Annabelle.
He'd been allotted an incredible five hours away from the apartment. It was meant to ensure he'd have plenty of time to meet with the prosecutor, but if he got done early, there was nothing stopping him from running errands or simply enjoying himself. As long as he stayed in Manhattan.
But for now, there was the meeting to focus on. He was in a small meeting room with Griffin by his side and Morales seated in front of him.
"Okay," Morales said, "here's what's on the table: you plead guilty to the possession of fake passports and three counts of fraud in relation to the forged bonds. The remaining fraud charges and the charges related to the theft of the Raphael will be dropped."
"Very convenient," Griffin said, "that you're offering to drop the charges that will be hardest to get a conviction on."
"Well," Morales said with a shrug, "I don't recommend that your client tempts his fate."
"And I'm not going to recommend that my client plead guilty to crimes he has no memory of committing, and no compelling reason to think he did."
The latter part was an exaggeration, but Neal was happy to pretend it was true.
"I'm afraid I agree with my attorney," he said. "I think it would be wrong to plead guilty if I don't believe I am."
Morales closed the file in front of her and started to get up. "Then I guess we don't have much more to discuss today. Give the offer some thought, and get back to us if you change your mind. And Mr. Caffrey, I suggest you think quickly and carefully, because I can't promise this offer will be on the table once your case goes to trial. I'll remind you that if you're convicted on all charges, you could be facing many years in prison."
The thought of spending years in prison was somewhat of an abstract concept to him when his memory was so limited.
Still, that didn't mean he liked the idea.
As they left, Griffin tried to reassure him. "True me, we can do better at trial than if we went with that deal."
"Yeah," Neal said, his rising irritability creeping into his voice. "Unless they find me guilty on all charges."
"That won't happen. Listen, I need to get to another appointment, but I'm heading in the direction of Annabelle's place. Want to share a cab?"
"Nah, that's all right. I have a couple hours before I need to get back."
"Sure," Griffin said with an understanding smile. "Enjoy the temporary freedom."
"Freedom" was a little generous, but Neal would take what he could get.
He waited until Griffin was in his cab and riding away before he started walking. A few blocks later, he found Mozzie waiting for him by a food truck. He was holding two falafels.
"Ah," Mozzie said. "There you are. Here-I got you some lunch." He handed one of the falafels to Neal.
"Excellent, thank you."
They started to walk side by side. "What did you want to talk about?" Mozzie asked.
"I'm moving on Monday. The marshals are transferring me to my apartment."
"What? Why? Is Annabelle kicking you out?"
"She thinks it's best if we don't live together anymore."
"It's because I brought Kate over, isn't it? Did Kate say something to her?" Mozzie waved his arms, almost spilling falafel filling on Neal's suit.
"It's not Kate's fault. Or yours. I think reality is just setting in. The thing is, my finances are going to be a problem. The Feds have frozen my bank account, and if I'm found guilty on the bond forgery, I'm probably going to have to pay restitution. I still have some bills from my hospital stay that the Pryors didn't cover, and I'm going to have legal fees. I was counting on Annabelle's help."
"Don't say another word. If you need money, I can get you cash."
"It's not going to be that simple. The Feds are watching me closely. I just want to know...is what they're saying true? Do I have things stashed away?"
Mozzie grinned like an idiot. "Oh, I'll say. You could start your own small, eclectic museum."
"Do you know where the stuff is?"
"Yeah. I mean, most of it."
Neal sucked in his breath. He couldn't believe he was talking about this. So much for not being the old Neal Caffrey anymore. "Okay. I don't want to do anything right now. I just wanted to know."
They walked and ate in silence for a few minutes, and Neal took in the atmosphere. He could see why he'd lived here. It was such a lively city when he wasn't trapped in an apartment.
"Listen," Mozzie said slowly, "now that Annabelle isn't a concern, have you considered...not sticking around?"
Neal turned his head and raised his eyebrows. "What? And run?"
"Sure. That's what the old Neal would've done."
He shook his head. "I don't know...."
"I do. Look, do you trust me?"
"Yeah...."
"Then let me arrange it. I can get you cash and transportation."
Neal looked down at his anklet. "If I cut the anklet, there's supposed to be a five-minute response time."
"Think of it as a five-minute head start. Look, just think about it, okay? You've got a chance to get away from all this. I'll find us a nice island without an extradition policy."
"So, what, I end up on the run for the rest of my life?"
"You've been on the run for the past few years. What's the difference?"
The difference was he couldn't remember the last few years. He didn't know how to be on the run. Still, Mozzie's offer was tempting.
"I'll think about it."
* * *
"In your opinion," Griffin asked, "is Mr. Caffrey capable of handling a trial at this time?"
Dr. Mackey, the neurologist Neal had been seeing since his return to New York, was on the witness stand. The hearing was supposed to determine if the trial should be delayed.
"Well," Dr. Mackey said, "physically, Mr. Caffrey is still weak and suffers from unpredictable symptoms. Since his accident, he's suffered from severe headaches and nausea, and I think it's likely that if the trial proceeds at this time, he won't be able to be in court every day."
"And is Mr. Caffrey's condition likely to improve?"
"That's difficult to say. Head injuries can cause long-term problems. Mr. Caffrey has recovered well, considering. His condition may continue to improve."
"Thank you. That will be all."
Griffin walked back over to where Neal was seated, and Morales got up to question Dr. Mackey.
"So far, Mr. Caffrey has been able to make it to most meetings and hearings with minimal problems. Why wouldn't he be able to handle a trial?"
"Well, there's a difference between being in court for one day, or attending a meeting for an hour, and having to be in court for several days in a row for an extended time. Right now, the best way for him to manage his condition is to rest frequently."
"And if his condition doesn't improve, what then? He doesn't strike me as being sick enough to avoid his responsibilities indefinitely."
Dr. Mackey considered that for a moment. "No, of course not. Obviously, the long-term goal is to help him manage any lingering effects from his head trauma. But based on his improvement so far, and other cases I've treated, I think it's very likely that his symptoms will be less debilitating in three or six months down the road."
"And what about Mr. Caffrey's memory? If the trial is delayed, is it possible that Mr. Caffrey will regain his memory and be able to testify on his behalf?"
Neal wasn't expecting this line of questioning. He'd assumed the prosecution would want to prevent the trial from being delayed, but Morales seemed to be going in a different direction.
"Well, again, that's difficult to predict. Amnesia patients have been known to recover spontaneously, and I think it's likely that Mr. Caffrey will gradually recover his memories. But it may take some time before he can remember the period of time relating to his charges."
Before the judge made his decision, both Griffin and Morales were allowed to speak. When it was Morales' turn, she confirmed Neal's suspicions.
"Your honor, the U.S. Attorney's office has decided that it's willing to delay the trial for a short time if it might allow the defendant a chance for greater participation. I hope to question Mr. Caffrey on the stand, and I understand that he'll be unable to answer questions related to the case at the present time."
In the end, it only took a few hours for a decision to be made: the trial would be delayed six months in order to give Neal a chance to further recover. Neal knew he was supposed to be pleased with this result, but he was starting to suspect he was screwed either way.
Once they were out of the courtroom, he confronted Griffin.
"I thought this was supposed to be for our benefit, not the prosecution's. Our whole case is based around the fact that if I can't remember anything, I can't exonerate myself. Remind me again how delaying helps us."
"Look, it seems unlikely that you'll remember much six months from now. Our defense will still work, and this way, we'll have more time to dig into your past for evidence that will help us."
Neal wasn't sure he agreed, and he was starting to regret not questioning Griffin's approach more. He'd been prone to confusion after his accident, and it'd been so easy to let other people guide him, tell him what he should do. Annabelle. Her father. Griffin. He should have been more active in planning his defense.
He returned to his apartment, where he'd been on house arrest now for over a week. It wasn't as nice as Annabelle's place, and it still didn't feel like his, but he could make it his. Aside from the rules imposed on him by the marshals, he was free to do what he wanted in his own home. There was some power in that, and he realized it was a power he'd been missing for a while now.
He took off his suit jacket, tie, and shoes, and lay down on the bed to rest his head. He was still resting when there was a knock on the door. He got up with a groan and walked over. Looking through the peephole, he was surprised to see Annabelle.
"Hi," she said quietly when he opened the door.
"What are you doing here?"
She held up a canvas bag. "You left a few things at my place. I thought I'd bring them over."
Neal stepped aside to let her in. "Thanks," he said.
"No problem. Didn't you have a hearing today? How'd it go?"
"My trial's been delayed for six months."
"That's good, right?"
"Yeah. Now I get to spend six more months with this." He pulled up his pant leg to show his anklet. He rubbed his forehead. "Sorry, it's been a long day. Thanks for bringing my stuff. Do you want a drink?"
She set the bag on the sofa. "No, thank you. I'm on my way to meet friends, actually." She started to walk to the door, and stopped. He clasped her hands in front of her. Her posture reminded Neal of a bird-graceful but fragile. "I'm really sorry. I feel terrible that I made you leave."
"Don't," Neal said softly. "Listen, you were smart. I'm not the man you thought I was. I wish I was, but after everything you've done for me, I need to be honest. You're a sweet person-you don't need to be mixed up in this."
She blinked away tears. "It was my fault."
"What?"
"The accident. I let go of the boom."
Neal swallowed.
"It's not the only reason I helped you," she said, her voice breaking. "I really did care about you. And I feel terrible about what happened. I just wanted to give you your life back."
"It was an accident," he said numbly. "It could have happened to anyone. I didn't even think about whose fault it was." He walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. He pulled her into a hug, and she wrapped her arms around his back.
He didn't blame her. But he realized now that they were never going to get back together. There was too little honesty to base a relationship on, and too little to keep them together now.
As she pulled away, Annabelle said, "My father didn't want me to say anything because he thought you might sue. But I don't want you think that's why I didn't tell you. I just felt bad."
He squeezed her shoulders one last time before letting her go. "It's all right. I think we're even."
She gave him a soft peck on the lips and walked out the door.
* * *
Neal had a packed duffle bag hidden above a ceiling tile in the bathroom. After Annabelle left, he stood up on the toilet and got the bag down.
It had everything he would need if he went on the run, including a new passport and an envelope full of cash that Mozzie had given him the other day. He didn't feel right keeping this stuff in his apartment, even if it was well-hidden. If it was discovered, he'd go straight back to lockup. And Mozzie was on him to make a decision.
If he wanted, he could be in another country within a day or two. That was, assuming Mozzie could be trusted. But was he ready for a life on the run? Was it better to spend the rest of his life hiding, or a finite number of years in prison?
He put the bag back in its hiding place, making sure he put the tile back properly. Then, he made his way into the living room, and picked up his phone.
Chapter 5 and Epilogue
This entry was originally posted at http://citrinesunset.dreamwidth.org/127570.html. Please comment there using OpenID.