White Collar fic - Twenty-five Reasons Not to Love Peter Burke

[daria234]

Prompt: Angsty, angsty fic where Neal falls in love with Peter but doesn't want to.
Author's Note: Set a couple of years in the future.
Warnings: Angst. Non-chronological portrait of Neal's contemplations. Also, deals with things that Neal may resent about Peter, so don't read if you don't enjoy any criticisms at all of why Peter might be hard to live with. Also SPOILERS for the end of the most recent ep.

Peter's saying good-bye at the door and it makes Neal nervous.

It's because of that look Peter wears. Patient but expectant.

It's Neal's own fault, really. He's flirted with Peter since before they met, when it was just a chase. And it's not like he's hidden his affection for Peter all that well these past few years either. So of course Peter might be a little confused that after all this time, Neal doesn't seem interested.

But Peter just gives that look that says he cares about Neal, but that Neal will need to make the first move, and that Peter will be ready and willing when he does.

And fine, maybe Neal wouldn't be able to decipher all that if Elizabeth hadn't basically spelled it out a few months ago, telling him the dual concerns (does he feel coerced, and is he really over Kate) meant that Peter wouldn't make a move even in the unlikely event that he were smooth enough to do so.

But El told him and now Neal knows for sure that it is not just wishful thinking on his own part.

Peter wants him.

That's a fact. Peter wants Neal, possibly almost as much as Neal wants Peter.

And Peter is kind and understanding and doesn't push, and just lets his hand linger a little too long on Neal's shoulder as he drops Neal off at June's door. An invitation, but a gentle one, and more importantly, one that doesn't have an expiration date.

One that tells Neal that he could invite Peter to stay. He would stay the night and then stay the weekend and would try to build something big and soulful and beautiful with Neal, because that's just how Peter Burke does things.

Instead, Neal will say that he's tired and needs his rest. And Peter will nod, and assume that it's because Neal is not over Kate. Even though it's been two years. And then Peter will go home to Elizabeth, just like every other night.

Which is good. It's how it should be.

Because Neal can't fall in love Peter.

He just can't do it.

Because Neal has learned from experience that there are too many good reasons - reasons Neal can't bring himself to ignore - not to start something with Peter.

So every time Neal hears the unspoken invitation, he pretends not to. Even though it's a punch in the gut to see Peter right there in front of him, offering everything he's wanted for years, and to just smile and shut the door as if the gift means nothing. It's worse than not being able to touch a Michelangelo sculpture, worse than being stranded without your rappelling hooks, worse even than not being able to climb or crawl to freedom. The only thing Neal could compare it to at all was that feeling that you could have saved someone but didn't.

Neal hates himself every time he says no. He never really says the word, but he turns Peter down again and again and again, by not taking what Peter wanted to give, and Neal despises himself for it.

But he knew it's the only choice.There are too many reasons he can't fall in love with Peter Burke.

He has to remind himself of these reasons when he sees that slight fall of disappointment on Peter's face, when he sees Peter's back retreating, going to a home that Neal has no part in.

He repeats the reasons to himself again and again, so he won't change his mind during a sleepless night, so he won't call Peter at 3:00AM to profess his love and devotion.

He repeats the reasons to himself every time he feels that twinge, that overwhelming burst of affection that tells him he is in grave danger of falling for Peter too hard to come back from.

He repeats them often.

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1. Peter doesn't know everything he thinks he knows. He definitely doesn't know Neal.
2. Peter is delusional about a lot of things.
3. Peter is not an easy man to live with.
4. With Peter, everything is complicated. Immensely, painfully, absurdly complicated.
5. Peter is, at times, kind of a bastard.

The problem (one of the problems) is that Peter wants everything. He wants more than Neal in his bed. He wants honesty and commitment and love.

Again, almost as much as Neal wants these things from Peter.

But Peter also wants Neal to join their life, to integrate seamlessly into some idea of a fantasy that Peter has (that El, somehow, seems to have bought into despite her good sense). Peter thinks that once Neal becomes this new person, fits into this new role, Neal will be safe and stable and law-abiding and well-adjusted and happy.

Peter seriously believes this.

As much as Peter tries to drill it into Neal's head to live in the real world, not 'Neal-world,' it's Peter who lives in a fantasy.

Peter has a lot of fantasies, actually.

For example, Peter, while self aware in any number of ways, seems to believes that what he and Neal have is fairly simple.

Peter doesn't think that the rules of the game are complex and difficult at all. To him, the rules are straightforward: solve cases and don't break the rules. Move three spaces, collect normal life.

Peter believes a lot of things are simple that aren't....

For example, Peter also believes that he - Peter Burke - is a simple man. An open book. Rational, direct, and pragmatic. None of those twisty psychological complexities that get people into trouble. The opposite of Neal, who is impulsive or mercurial or bursting with too much creativity and defiance, whose mind gets bored too easily and whose heart gets moved too deeply.

That's the amazing thing. Peter really, truly believes he is a simple man.

Neal knows better.

So does El, for that matter. So does Peter's team, Peter's boss, and everyone else who knows him. Because Peter might be calm and rational and constant in some ways, and yes, that solidity was real, it was as real as Neal had ever known in anyone, but Peter is most definitely not a simple man.

There is nothing uncomplicated about him.

Peter is full of contradictions and surprises. He knows what you think he doesn't, feels what you suspect he shouldn't, and does things that surprise even himself. He always has something up his sleeve, and at least half the time he kept it back on purpose.

And his problem-solving skills - the ones Peter claimed were no more than intelligence combined with the will to roll one's sleeves up and get to work - they actually come from Peter's adaptability, Neal knows. Peter's capacity to engage in a dozen little shifts at once, Peter's constant metamorphoses of mood and aim and approach. And if you wanted to stay in step with Peter Burke, you had better keep up.

With Neal, for instance, Peter might be thirty different people in the space of five minutes:

The partner who respects his opinion. The self-appointed mentor who shines with pride. The lawman who put him away and might do it again and wants Neal to know it. The buddy he shares inside jokes with. The constant companion who knows that Neal will bring up Degas before Neal knows himself. The fierce investigator who knows the same thing. The confidant who wants to know every inch of Neal's past. The plausible denier who practically covers his ears when Neal talks, just in case. The father figure who adores him. The father figure who wants to kick his ass. The best friend who feels hurt and rejected that Neal doesn't want to talk about his feelings. The boss who wants him to put his feelings aside and do the job the way it's supposed to be done. The man who perks up because Neal has walked into the room, who enjoys his company more than almost anyone's. The man who chased him for years and years and won. The protector. The agent. The man Neal trusts most. The man who, if Neal ran, would be the only one who would be able to find him. The guy who can hit the ball back when Neal semi-flirts because hey, he's married and so it's not like it means anything anyway, and even if it does, would that be so bad? The man who freaks out at the thought of hitting on a stranger for a case, blushing like a teenager. The sensual powerhouse who doesn't hesitate to talk about any aspect of his sexual imagination with someone he actually trusts. The man who gets into Neal's personal space for no reason, who is surely too perceptive not to notice that he takes Neal's breath away. The doofus who needs Neal's advice for clothes and shoes and anniversary presents. The only man who has consistently outfoxed him - not just won, but truly outfoxed. The bully who enjoys gloating about how much power he has over Neal, about the fact that he won their game of cat and mouse and now the mouse belongs to him. The man who held him back, embrace like a vice, when all Neal could think of was running straight into a burning wreckage. The man who saved him in every way a person could be saved. The man who never much liked Kate, who thought the very worst of her and didn't see why Neal could love her that much, even if he stopped speaking ill of her after she died. The man who always put his hand on Neal, a hand in the small of his back, as if Neal needed to be told where to go, as if Peter's hand were his guide to everywhere he was supposed to be, infuriating and comforting all at once. The man who looked at Neal with a hunger, one that ran deep and intense in Peter's eyes, so that even before Neal couldn't figure out if it were a desperation to change him or a desperation to have him, Neal sure as hell knew that hunger was there.

Simple man, my ass, Neal thinks.

And in all these shifts, these many different thoughts, it is always Neal who has to figure out what was happening, to glean which way Peter was leaning, to read and accommodate and respond as best he could. Peter sometimes acted like he thought Neal's mind was an unsolvable puzzle, a labyrinth with no strings to follow, like there were all these layers and paths that might shift position at any moment. Peter acted like Neal was utterly unpredictable.

But it is Peter whose mind will take unpredictable turns. Peter's ideas, emotions, relationships shuffling about at exhilirating speed. Brilliant, baffling Peter, with Neal scrambling to stay a step ahead.

Or, to be frank, running full pace just to stay even.

Everyone assumes Neal is this tornado that came into Peter's life, but really it's clear: Neal is just the house, uprooted by the real tornado, that house in scratchy old film footage that flies in circles and lands a hundred miles away, that looks the same on the outside but that might be in any shape if someone actually dared to walk inside.

Peter spins Neal around and around and around. They both know it. And they both like it.

And, worst of all, they both know that the other likes it.

Of course Neal is falling for Peter. He always loved the ones who kept him on edge.

That night, for example, as they worked on the case at Neal's place, everything was fine. It was laid-back, a typical case, and they talked over some details over dinner as they sat on the couch.

A nice peaceful evening at home.

Except that it was Peter. So Neal had to be at the top of his game.

Even over the little things.

For example: Neal had Peter's favorite brand of beer in the fridge. As usual.

As Peter thanked him for the beer with a quick smile, Neal joked (except it wasn't wholly a joke), "How come you don't keep my favorite wine at your place?"

Peter gave him one of those aggressive smiles that was half ribbing and half remember-who's-in-charge. "That's the way it works," he said, "It's your job to make me happy, not the other way around."

I own you, in other words. Peter's answer to everything.

And of course Neal knew that there were plenty of good ripostes that Peter could have used to answer Neal's question: Neal's tastes are too finicky and expensive, or there's usually something at the Burke house that Neal can drink since El has good taste in wine too, or Neal has found nothing but hospitality and warmth at Peter's house, or maybe simply that Neal should stop worrying about drinks and get back to work.

But Peter had to bring up that thing again. About how very unequal they are.

Peter loves talking about that.

Neal knew that Peter would say that it's to keep Neal in line, to remind him that he's accountable to someone, that certain choices give you power and certain choices take it away. Or that that he's just reminding Neal who's in charge so Neal doesn't start to think he can do something stupid. Neal knows that Peter genuinely believes that if he cuts Neal any slack at all, soon Neal will be doing something outlandish and risky. (And fun).

That's a real reason; it's not the only reason, but it's real. This is, in fact, Peter's gameplan in almost everything. He lets the other person know how much power he has and how much they don't, and then Peter gets what he wants. He raises his weapon many times but almost never shoots anyone. Because he doesn't have to. He just lets them know what he could do and then he waits for them to do as he says.

This side of Peter scares Neal. To an extent. But it also is the perfect expression of who Peter is. Strong and agressive and dominant, but protective and gentle too. Smart but direct, using power and intelligence and the fact that people automatically think he's telling the truth.

He's the best Neal has ever seen. He has the brilliance and the consistency both, and if Peter didn't wear his admiration for Neal on his sleeve, then Neal would probably be jealous as hell of his conning abilities.

Well, that, and because with Peter it's not really a con. He actually is that honest.

And Neal shouldn't be thinking of all this - all the things that make Peter a riddle Neal can't solve- as Peter's being an ass about the beer and the wine. He should be thinking about the part where Peter is acting like an ass.

Because even Peter would admit that there's more to his gleeful declaration of superior position than just an encouragement to obey the rules. It's verbal sparring, too. A victory lap for the man who caught him. It's fun, it's their thing, it's their competitive give-and-take.

Peter would also admit that he's just gloating, that he enjoys it. The power he has. He doesn't see anything wrong with that, since it was power rightfully gained.

Not that Neal doesn't understand; Neal's proud when he cons. Especially if it's a really difficult job.

But Neal wants to make some witty remark to Peter, about the wine and the beer and how they're not talking about beverage at all, but Peter has already moved on to the case they are working on, and by the time Neal is ready to offer a theory on that, Peter is asking about what Neal was up to with Mozzie yesterday, and by the way that kidnapped girl Neal helped months ago just had a birthday and isn't it nice that Neal was able to save her life by working with rather than against him (subtle, Peter). Then the current case and why Peter wasn't sure Neal should go in since last time Neal endangered himself and really Neal deserves to look at mortgages all day, and also El thinks it's been too long since Neal came over for dinner, and has Neal given any more thought about what he wants his life to be like in five years, and don't forget to check that green file because it has the emails they need to examine for clues, and oh yeah, Neal's value system is all backwards and shouldn't he use his talents for something good, and what was Neal doing making nice with the woman who happens to have a cousin in the security business, and also what was Neal doing during the famous Klee heist eight years ago, and how did that other meeting go with that guy last week, and oh yeah, the orange file has pertinent information too.

Figuring out where he stood with Peter was like trying to build a skyscraper with blocks of ice in 100 degree weather. As soon as he gets a good grip, it turns to water.

Because every conversation was a test, a high, a burst of something bright and challenging and almost overwhelming.

In other words, Peter can be a real ass. He pulls Neal's emotions like he's playing with yarn. He thinks Neal has a simple choice: dwell on the past, or change his entire life and personality and live a nice, simple life with a nice, simple man like Peter.

Truthfully, Peter drives him crazy.

The last person who drove him this crazy was Kate.

He tries not to think about this. About the fact that this list of why he shouldn't love Peter is full of reasons that just make Neal love Peter more.

He tries not to think about the fact that his liferaft is just pulling him deeper.

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6. The thought of disappointing Peter makes Neal sick to his stomach, makes him think he'd rather be shot or stabbed than let Peter down. He's pretty sure it's not supposed to be that way.
7. Neal's not Elizabeth. He couldn't be even if he wanted.

El wears Peter's devotion gracefully. He thinks the world of her, and she thinks that's very cute. Neal is quite sure she doesn't feel physically ill at the thought of being less than Peter expected her to be.

This might very well be because Elizabeth is actually good enough to live up to high expectations. Which Neal loves about her, and which makes him trust her as much as Peter does.

But even if she failed at something, she would shrug it off and work on the next thing she had to do. She wouldn't worry about falling off some pedestal. She would probably make a kind little joke at the expense at whoever thought she was on a pedestal in the first place.

Neal on the other hand felt like he lived and died with Peter's approval. It wasn't the power Peter had (if there's one thing Neal actually did feel secure about, it was Peter never abusing his legal power). It was just who Peter was, and who Neal was, and Neal was pretty damn sure Peter really enjoyed this particular neurosis of Neal's.

Neal enjoyed it too. There was a time, in fact, when Neal would have thought this sense of nausea he felt whenever he had to face Peter's anger meant that their love was all-consuming. As if Neal's hidden sense of panic meant their relationship was epic.

After all, if it doesn't burn you up, is there really any fire?

But now Neal wonders if maybe there's something wrong with this. If this kind of fire doesn't lead to ... other things. Other fires.

Of course, this is just one of the many ways Neal can never be the calm rock of a counterpart that El is.

Though he and El do have some important things in common.

Besides the obvious.

Sometimes, Neal gets off track and thinks of why he is a little bit like Elizabeth after all. It's comforting, in a way.

For one thing, they both hate working for people. They hate having to answer to someone who knows less and controls more (which is why Neal dreads the idea of working with someone other than Peter, and would absolutely consider it a last resort). That's why El started her own business; so she could do her best without someone telling her not to. And though there are parts of being a consultant Neal likes (not that he would admit it), he, for the most part, hates it. He hates being told that doing a job well is its own reward, he hates having to kiss the asses of agents all day (especially since if he doesn't make nice, it reflects badly on Peter), he hates that he has to constantly prove his worth even as he is resented for being better than the agents who look so superior on paper, he hates that being a friend to Peter means putting people away who often didn't do anything worse than Neal or pretty much any of Neal's non-'Suit' friends. Sure, going up against Keller or some killer and actually having massive resources to take them down is pretty great. But as much as he loved the problem-solving, as much as it felt good to help someone who really needed it, most of what he did would have given him very little satisfaction if it didn't make Peter so happy.

Elizabeth was like him, Neal likes to think. She wouldn't want to work for the Bureau. She didn't even like working at a gallery because she had no control over what went on, because she hated that so much of her job was turning down artists who hoped to be shown, just because her boss thought they weren't trendy enough. She hated not being able to pick her clients, and not being able to decline the clients who were nothing but trouble. She hated that she was expected to be intelligent but not too intelligent, deferential but not too deferential, kind but never too kind.

Neal has cased enough galleries to know why Elizabeth wouldn't be happy working in one. He understands this about her, probably better than Peter does.

There are other similiarities, too.

Elizabeth is also very good at reading people. Unlike Neal, her abilities get sharper the more emotionally involved she is. She's also good at getting what she wants from people. Neal likes to joke that Peter and he would make a great team of criminals, but from a strictly professional standpoint, he thinks if Elizabeth weren't so honest that she and Neal could con almost anyone for anything.

Elizabeth has excellent taste. She knows how to enjoy the fine things in life but knows that they only have meaning because of who you share them with. And although she is quite charming, she is fiercely loyal, and it is a very bad idea to mess with her. Neal thinks this is another reason they are alike.

She is, however, too good for Peter. At least that's what Peter thinks, and if Neal weren't blinded by his feelings, he'd probably agree. And that would be one thing she definitely doesn't have in common with Neal.

But Neal really has no idea how Elizabeth puts up with him.

At first, Neal thinks it isn't that hard for her. How Peter acts toward Neal couldn't be more different from how Peter acts toward El. So maybe being Peter's wife isn't that thankless a task. Peter adores her, he listens to her, he pretty much acknowledges that she's the boss of him.

But then Neal realizes that El doesn't have that easy a time with it. Peter is a wonderful husband in many ways, Neal knows. But still: the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that El, too, has to put up with a neverending storm of crap by being married to Peter.

How many wives would never make Peter feel at all guilty for missing all those dinners? For failing a good portion of the time when he tries to pick out gifts? For barely remembering the names of her friends, for being such a creature of habit a new shirt makes him grumble, for taking one real vacation in ten years? And then there are the dangers of his profession, that scare her more than she'd like to admit.

Not to mention, well, Neal. It's not like most agents can go home and say, "By the way, honey, remember that guy I chased for years while ignoring you? Well, now I'm going to work with him and spend all day with him and he's going to hang out at our house all the time and it's going to be obvious he's totally in love with me but I'll act like I don't notice but then later I'll pursue a relationship with him and also he might make a mess out of our lives because he's involved in all these big mysterious plots that are dangerous, and oh yeah, I'm going to complain about him a lot and you'll have to help us when we argue."

Not that Peter would say these things out loud. But he might as well have.

And there were other things El dealt with as if there were minor annoyances. Peter's mind moved a mile a minute. He was always thinking about something, working some problem out, and so he was never totally in the room.

Neal truly does not like it when his audience isn't totally in the room.

Peter was also more energetic than a man half his age (and was the first person Neal worked with who actually had more stamina for all-night work marathons than Neal did), and such intensity could be exhausting. And of course he had no idea how full of contradictions he really was. Or how clueless he could be about what other people are feeling. Or how much chaos Peter might bring into the situation at any given moment.

He knows that Elizabeth handles all this with grace and loveliness.

Neal doesn't really want to handle all this with grace and loveliness.

He wants to not have to wonder at all about whether he would be able to bear being in a relationship with Peter.

He's quite certain he wouldn't have the patience.

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8. Peter is a hypocrite.
9. Peter will make you believe things that aren't real.

Peter thinks that Neal should stop having such a hero complex.

Pot, kettle, Neal thinks.

Peter thinks that Neal should be more realistic.

Neal thinks that people who believe that those with authority are generally very trustworthy really shouldn't make that particular speech.

Peter thinks it's wrong to fool someone into believing things that aren't true (unless it's for the job, because what wouldn't we do for the job). He thinks you should set reasonable goals for yourself instead of aiming for the moon.

Neal thinks Peter has made him hope for things he knows better than to hope for, believe in things that will never, ever happen, and want a life that is, by any objective account, well outside Neal's reach.

It's not just that Neal's not cut out for the white picket and the 2 point 5.

It's that there are some things Neal can't do. No matter how much Peter thinks he can. He doesn't get that forging a Donatello is not an impossible feat, but sharing a life with Peter might be.

Another reason Peter's a hypocrite: Peter keeps saying that he wants Neal to learn from his mistakes. But he's making Neal fall in love with him, making Neal forget every hard, dry, excruciating thing experience has taught him.

Neal knows that Peter is not a hypocrite in the truest sense, in the malicious sense. But Peter makes Neal think things that aren't true. And Neal's starting to chafe at the double standard.

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10. Peter is just like Kate.

Neal knows that this is the one that he can never tell anyone. Nobody would understand this reason; it would sound absurd, or insane, or, if he asked one particular friend, proof that the suits had put hallucinogens in the water cooler.

But the more Neal thinks about why he can't be with Peter, the more he realizes that it's because he's too much like the other person he loved enough to die for.

It wasn't easy to come to this conclusion.

After all, Kate is in the past, and so are all the fights and betrayals and reconciliations that followed her death. Her killers were caught over a year ago, and things have been relatively calm and stable with Peter ever since. Forgiveness and second chances and healing and all that.

And Neal really has been able to move past it. Not forget it, but to think about her - about them - with clearer eyes. Fondness and love remaining, but without romanticizing.

Peter would be proud. If this were something he could tell Peter.

But it's not, and so Neal just keeps thinking about this reason, and it spins around in his head until it branches out, reasons after reasons, until his list starts being taken over by reasons that Peter is like Kate.

11. Loving Peter would be like getting on a roller coaster and never being able to get off.

Moz thinks that Neal only got caught the first time because Kate had him on an emotional roller coaster. Neal was simply off his game.

It's not just his ego that makes Neal think there's merit to that statement.

It wasn't just that there was drama in their relationship. He couldn't say no to Kate. And that caused conflict.

Giving someone that much power over you doesn't actually make your relationship simple. Neal should really remember this. Love throws Neal off his game. And when Neal's off his game, it ends in some kind of clusterfuck a good portion of the time.

12. Despite all appearances, Neal is not all that good at math.

Neal keeps adding to the lists. Big things, little things, serious things, inconsequential things. If he could do math - real math, not just calculation - he could find a way to model the information. All the reasons Peter is like Kate, all the reasons Neal is falling for Peter, all the reasons it's a terrible idea to fall in love with Peter, diagrammed neatly in some multi-dimensional graph.

It would be a complicated model, with many, many variables.

Of course Peter and Kate could both handle it. Both of them love(d) math.

Neal was actually surprised when he learned that Peter was trained in mathematics. He knew Peter loved to solve a tough problem, but he didn't think that someone with so much training in advanced mathematics would talk so much about Order. As in "order" is good and "chaos" is bad. Neal is no mathematician, but he knows a little, has read a few things, and he knows that while most agents might talk about order and chaos that way, Peter's math background means that Peter knows full well that chaos is just a different kind of order. One that is harder to describe, one that is more organic in shape than rigidly linear. But order nonetheless.

Neal is pretty sure that Peter knows this and has chosen to not believe it.

Neal mentions this to Peter only once. "The truth is the truth, Peter, not just what you pretend it to be," he says, grinning as he throws Peter's words back at him.

Peter nods, pleased, it seems, to get the chance to discuss mathematics with Neal. Or pleased that Neal has thought about Peter's opinions enough to research how to counter them. He says, "True. Order and chaos have a complicated relationship."

"They're two sides of the same coin."

"But that doesn't make them morally equivalent," Peter says, and he doesn't seem to want to play any more. Doesn't seem to see a contradiction between mathematics and the Bureau, much less their definitions of order.

"Mathematics is quite beautiful," Neal says with a charming smile, "The study of ideal forms. Perfect circles. Lines that never end."

"That's theoretical mathematics," Peter corrected. "I specialized in applied."

"Of course you did."

Peter has no idea that Kate was good at mathematics too (and how could Neal tell him without setting Peter on the trail to learning why Neal was pointing it out?). But Kate was brilliant at it. Not in terms of calculating in her head (Neal was always best at that). But Kate was the kind of person who would read Euclid for fun, who would fawn over a notebook from Newton the same way she would one from da Vinci, who knew why calculus of previous centuries wasn't really that much like calculus now, and even knew why that was important.

Neal respected it - loved it about her - but didn't get it.

Of course, Kate she didn't see mathematics as "order"; when she talked about it to Neal, she always spun stories about the mathematicians driven mad by their genius: the logician who ended up in the asylum, the algebraist who insisted on fighting a duel he couldn't win, the computer theorist who spent her life fighting bad romances and worse diseases.

Neither Peter nor Kate (if she were here) would think that this similarity means a thing. But Neal suspects it does.

He suspects that it means they're both miserable unless they are solving a problem.

And he thinks maybe the two most important relationships in his life are based on the fact that they both thought of him as an especially grand problem to solve.

This says something about Neal, maybe even more than it says something about them. Neal's pretty sure of this.

13. Peter likes smart.

Kate always got that giddy look when Neal came up with a brilliant plan. One that only Neal could think of, and only Neal could pull off.

Peter's an agent and so he wouldn't like to be told he looked giddy. But he certainly looked proud in those moments, which was about the same thing.

It affected Neal every time, though with Peter he tried not to show it. It was overwhelming, and it made Neal feel like he could be swallowed up whole by their love and approval. But it's temporary, because soon it's another thing they want and another thing Neal does to prove himself. Kate never hesitated to tell Neal that she thought he could give them the world, and Peter in his own way asks the same thing. He wants order in the world and he thinks he does his part to bring it, and he believes - for some inane reason - that Neal should too. That Neal is perfectly capable of bringing down anyone; people whom, before his 'consultancy,' Neal would have avoided like the plague, Peter blithely assumes Neal's cleverness can demolish.

Kate was no different; nothing was too big or too bad that Neal couldn't take it on. And of course they always assume(d) Neal would love to move mountains for them.

They weren't wrong.

But again, it suggests that question, the one that Neal has been avoiding since Kate died. What is it about Neal that makes good people make impossible demands? Was it that Neal was attracted to imperious types? Or was there something in Neal that brought it out?

14. Peter is not good at lowering his expectations.

Kate and Peter both think the world should stop being its insufferable self when they're around, that everything should turn lush (for Kate) or law-abiding (for Peter) as soon as they step foot into a room. It would be infuriating if it weren't so appealing.

And naturally, it's Neal's job to make sure this is the case.

And Neal would love to be able to say that this is a burden he doesn't want to bear, but the truth is, that kind of confidence in Neal makes him feel like he's soaring, like the world and all its grime can't even touch him. He knows that people like Kate and Peter act like this because Neal lets them, because Neal sends a thousand little signals that he needs them to push him into the fire, that he doesn't feel like he's worth anything unless he's giving someone more than anyone should give.

And Peter certainly has figured this out by now.

Kate figured it out fast too.

Neither of them have any compunction using this fact - that impossible expectations produce impossible results. Which is why Neal has to be the best thief, the best con, the best at forgery, the best dressed, the best at charming cocktail chatter, the best at explaining the characteristics of obscure expressionist painters, the best at breaking codes, the best in bed, the best consultant, the best investigator, the best security-system tester, the best brainstormer, the best at undercover work, the best friend, the best at getting through to the worst criminals (even if they're the kind of psychopaths Neal didn't used to even talk to), the best at making sure the innocent didn't get hurt, the best at making sure the Bureau looks good, the best at everything, everywhere.

Because it makes them happy, and they're the one whose opinion truly matters. But even though it makes them happy, and once in a great while even makes them look impressed, they never look surprised. He could give them a time machine and a Vermeer and cruise ship and a home-cooked meal all at once, and they wouldn't be surprised. They would just smile, equal parts pleased and lustful, as if to imply 'Good, that's what you're here for. To bring me everything I want. And fine, maybe Peter is actually the best at most of these things, and maybe Peter is reasonable when Neal doesn't succeed on his first try, but all that does is make Neal want to prove himself even more.

That's the truly ridiculous part.

Neal knows that Peter doesn't really think of Neal this way. As something to be used. Kate didn't think of him that way either, despite what people think. It's not that they're cruel or uncaring. It's just that they see potential in Neal. And that simple, little, seemingly harmless thing is enough to send Neal off the deep end.

15. 'Back down' is not in Peter's vocabulary.

Neal is not good at being the one in the relationship who knows how to pull the brakes.

It's just not his strong suit.

But maybe he should be better at it.

Once Kate got the idea that she had to have something, there was no denying her. If Neal thought it was a bad idea, she would do it on her own until Neal found out (until Mozzie told) and Neal would ask to join in. Neal knows her well, and so he knows this is part of what got her killed. They came after her to get to Neal, but Kate decided she would play them all. She figured that the players behind it all could have their box, and that she and Neal would fake their death and be free of them forever, rich and happy and with no obligations to anyone, regardless of all the shady intimations that they had plans for Neal. The idea that this might go too high up for her to succeed, that she might be in over her head, didn't matter. She knew that she and Neal deserved their freedom, and anyone who disagreed could get a gun to the face and a threat that Kate probably wouldn't ever go through with.

Peter, in investigating Mentor, had much the same attitude, even if his threats were of the "I'll learn the truth" variety. The fact that more than one government seemed to have a vested interest in covering it all up didn't deter Peter. Politicians calling in favors to shut him down didn't have an impact. What happened to Moz didn't scare Peter off, it just made him more determined. He was an agent, and he had a right to track down the truth, and that was all there was to it.

Peter is relentless in pursuit - Neal learned this when he was running. It's impossible to resist all that constant pressure over time, the kind that makes land formations hollow and makes rivers cut throught stone. He will pursue and pursue even if it's dangerous, and Peter very well might end up like...

And it might be Neal's fault with Peter, too. It almost was, when Peter brought down Kate's killers. It would have been if Diana and Moz hadn't made a surprisingly good team. And if Moz didn't turn out to be a surprisingly decent shot.

But it's not like Peter has sworn off taking on dangerous conspiratorial forces. The next big danger could be anything -- anything Peter decides is too great an injustice to let pass. Although yes, given the probabilities, it will likely be something related to Neal.

But even if it's not, Peter won't know how to back down, even if he needs to. Neal can remind himself how good Peter is at his job and protecting his people, but it doesn't change the fact that Peter is far too much like Kate - he thinks nothing is out of reach when you're sure you're right.

It is, of course, this kind of confidence that makes people like Kate and Peter seem like beacons, like their blood runs redder and their souls go deeper than for other people (people like Neal). And it doesn't take a psychological genius to figure out that if Neal loves this quality in his partners, it's obviously to make up for something Neal himself lacks.

They are solid. They are a force.

Neal is like a breeze that can lift a dry leaf or make a dollar dance - enjoyable, but as the poet says, there is no there there. That's why he has to affix himself to someone of substance.

This probably isn't a good thing.

It probably goes past 'complementary' and deep into 'codependence.'

Possibly parasitism (though Moz thinks all love is a highly evolved form of parasitism).

This is yet another thing Neal will never be able to explain to Peter. He couldn't say, I know you think Kate was this flighty overly romantic woman who thought crime was a good thing, but she was a rock-solid person in the same way you are. But I don't think I should be with someone quite so solid any more.

Peter would probably ask him if he had been drugged.

16. Peter wouldn't be happy without the chase.

Peter admitted that he wouldn't want to do anything else other than his beloved job.

Kate was more complicated.

Neal hated thinking about it. Hated thinking anything bad about her.

But with Kate, if they were running a con or a heist, everything was great.

Just like Peter and Neal got on great when they were working cases.

But in their down time, things were tepid between Neal and Kate. The sex was still great (Neal worked hard to make sure of it), and the conversation was still good, but if there wasn't some plan in the making, some danger lurking around, or some new acquisition to enjoy, there wasn't that spark in Kate's eyes. Neal realizes now that in the unlikely even that he really had been able to quit, Kate wouldn't have retired with him. Neal was lying to himself if he ever believed that. Kate would work with someone else, or even on her own, before she would give up the thrill, the high of a good score.

Sometimes, Neal wonders if either Kate or Peter would want him if he weren't good at his job.

He suspects no.

There are worse things, of course, than to be loved for one's mind. No greater reason to become brilliant.

If Neal did say so himself.

But the question festered.

Sure, Peter and Neal could spend time outside of work too. Of course Peter always managed to slip in some comment about how Neal should follow his rules if he wanted to keep having lunches out or nice walks in the park. But Peter was a workaholic. El knew it, and Neal knew it too. And if Neal ever stopped being Peter's biggest problem (not that that was all that likely), Neal would still have to be Peter's biggest helper. If he wanted to spend any time with Peter, he would have to devote himself to the job. Peter's job. If, after his consultancy was up, Neal wanted a regular day job - art appraiser, translator, bakery chain owner - he would have to resign himself to seeing Peter once a week or less. And that's IF they were in a relationship. If not, Peter would probably call when he wanted to talk about a case and check to see he's on the straight and narrow but otherwise, Peter would be too busy.

It's not a flaw, really. It's something admirable, Neal feels. Or, he feels that he should feel that way.

But it seems like just another thing on the long list of things that prove that Neal doesn't know how to love someone without turning himself into a vessel for excitement.

And after all the losses and almost-losses, Neal wonders if he'll be capable of loving someone (of being loved) when he's too tired for the chase.

17. Peter will never be satisfied.

With Peter, there is always more to be done. Same as with Kate. People like them are never satisfied because the world and its treasures (for Kate) or the world and its problems (for Peter) were always there, waiting for Neal, more important than anything else they had to do.

It's not that Neal doesn't see the ethical difference between their two vastly differing perspectives. Or even the practical one, with Peter's way being more conducive to having things like a home and a dog and maybe even someday kids.

But Neal is starting to think it might be nice if he could be with someone who could imagine a future where they weren't striving for anything. Where they were fine with the way things were.

Neal is also starting to think that he doesn't feel the moremoremore as intensely as he did in his twenties. Passion and ambition and excitement and curiosity, that burning need to announce his presence to the world and enjoy its possibilities: these things were still there, they were just... muted. He still loved good food and good art and good shoes and good heists, but none of these things made his pulse quicken like they used to. None of these things made him feel like he would do anything to have them.

Maybe Neal was getting older. Maybe Neal was just tired. But Peter, though almost two decades older, wasn't even close to tired. Peter will always have a fire inside him, pushing him to achieve (morally) great things, to do more to collar the bad guys.

He will also never tire of pushing for Neal to become a better version of himself.

Neal honestly has no idea what it 's like to feel genuinely, contentedly satisfied. He's not sure he'll ever be able to, or if that's even something that's in him.

But he knows he won't find out if he's living his life for someone who has absolutely no desire to sit back and feel satisfied with life and the world and the people around him.

Sure, there are some people that don't think any of this - living for someone else, shifting your worldview to match his or hers - has anything to do with loving someone.

But for Neal it does. That's just a fact.

18. Peter lies.

Peter would lie right to Neal's face, a direct, bald lie, if he felt justified. Peter would play him for a fool, as long as he believed that it's for Neal's own good. He's done it several times, and will certainly again.

Kate was the same way. Not just with the music box. Whenever she thought that her lies were protecting him.

This one, is a hard thing to live with. That lack of respect. Even as he sees the good intentions behind it, it drives him up the wall.

This reason is not like the others: it is not just an attractive feature that happens to push Neal's buttons until all his worst qualities come out. This one is a real flaw, a failure, and it might not be Neal's for once.

But then again, is Neal attracted to this type? Who think that love and respect have very little to do with each other? Who believe that loving someone justifies (or demands) changing the course of their life?

Or does Neal bring this out in people? Kate told strangers things about herself that she wouldn't tell Neal. And Peter certainly didn't treat Elizabeth like he treated Neal.

What is it about Neal that makes honest people decide that some truths need to be buried or hidden or kept under lock and key? Was it because he was impulsive? Emotional?

Or because he just had something about him that screamed, 'Keep me on a leash. There's something missing inside of me and you will have to fill it for me?

And maybe this is the same thing that sends out all those other messages that Neal seemed to emit to Peter and Kate:

Never be satisfied with me, let me give you everything, I would do anything if you believe that I am unique, that I am amazing, that I'm one of the great ones, that I'll be even better once you fix me,

I'll be a hundred different things for you and you'll be a hundred different things for me, and no one will have what we have,

I will be brilliant and perfect and I will never want anything more than I want to make you happy.

Neal knows that it is not Peter's fault. Peter is a good man. A better person than Kate - a better human being than anyone Neal has ever known. But Peter is just a man, and he is not perfect. And Neal brings out both the best and the worst in Peter - the brilliance and kindness but also the desire to press and pull until Neal is something different. Peter's capacity to forgive and Peter's inability to accept things the way they are.

And Neal knows he is fucked in the head for only being able to love people like that. Even if he's not totally sure if they were really like that before Neal came along.

And that pretty much sums up the main issue.

=====
19. Neal is fucked up in the head.

20. Neal can do glorious, tragic, on-the-edge romances. There is no evidence that Neal is capable of doing anything else. The fact that Peter is willing to leap in despite a lack of concrete proof just demonstrates that Peter is losing himself (because when has Peter ever not needed more proof?).

21. Neal loves to fly too close to the sun. And when he falls, everyone else gets hurt too. (Everyone says that Icarus should have stayed low, should have listened to Daedalus; everyone thinks they could resist, that they wouldn't let the breeze carry them deep into the clouds, that they would deny themselves the ecstasy of a cool, clean curve of upward soar. Neal thinks this is ridiculous; the only way to stop Icarus is to never give him wings in the first place.)

22. Neal dreams of Peter dying almost every night. When he starts to dream about fucking up so badly that Peter hates him, that Peter never again wants to see his face, it is almost a relief. Almost.

23. Neal has never been alone. He has no idea what it would be to live a life centered around whatever it is that people who aren't in love do. He suspects that this ignorance speaks to some deeper missing trait, some lack of self awareness that keeps letting Neal get blindsided by violence and set-ups and even his own mistakes. It's possible that it's not all because of Neal. It's possible that this is just how life is. But in some sick way, it's actually more comforting to think that it's his fault.

24. Neal's whole adult life revolved around Kate. Wanting her desperately, then desperately wanting to hang on to her, then desperately wanting to avenge her, then desperately wanting to know how the hell he (and she) let this happen. No matter how good it is with Peter, no matter how perfect the temporary high, it will not be worth another round. Nothing is worth another round.

25. Neal doesn't think doing the right thing has anything to do with the law or property or restoring order or anything like that. But he has always believed in doing the right thing even when it's hard. And though Peter hasn't changed his mind about the law, Neal actually has learned - finally - that doing the right thing has little to do with good intentions. It's about choosing the long term over the short term. It's about putting what people need above what people want. The art-lover and improviser and thief in Neal all hate to admit this, but it's true. And Neal really does believe in doing the right thing.

When he is done with his list, when he wonders if he will really be able to find the strength to resist Peter by going over his list again and again and again, he wishes he never started it. This horrible fucking list that makes him ask too many questions he doesn't need asked. And he tries to put it out of his head, tries to think about Peter as he jacks off into his hand, alone in his bed. He tries to think of anything other than the list, but all he keeps thinking of are Peter and Kate and the way they smile at him when he has figured out something no one else could figure out, the way they move closer to him to make sure they get what they want, the way they wordlessly tell Neal that as long as they are with them then Neal will always have a place in this world. And as Neal thinks of them - the man who wants him and the woman who died because she wanted him - their faces meld together in his mind and then tears wet Neal's face, and he tells himself, yells at himself, "Don't do it, don't do this again, you can't do this again, you can't do this again," and by the time he comes he is sobbing.

And it's absurd, to fall into bliss and despair at the same time, but everything about Neal's life has been absurd, awful and wrong and absurd, it was a shitty childhood, and then it was being a brilliant thief who couldn't afford a hot meal because he didn't have the contacts to move any of his stash. And it was falling in love with a woman who gave up everything for him just to see him caught and thrown in jail, and then it was prison where painful loneliness was about the best thing you could hope to feel, and then it was a brief time with Peter when he still had hope about the future (and it was almost like when he first met Kate) -- and Neal was scared and angry and hated the radius, but he had a plan and Moz and June and El and Kate was out there somewhere, and for a second he felt like his biggest dilemma might be whether he loved Kate or Peter more. And then it was wreckage and fire, and it was shooters on a sunny day, and it was becoming a person he never thought he would become, and coming close to losing the respect and the lives of everyone he cherished, and then it was now, this calm peaceful time when he's mourned enough and he can think about who he is, and see with clear eyes - for the first time - all that he doesn't have. And now he's about to lose Peter, too, because he can't do this again, and the only thing worse than not being with Peter is falling in love with Peter, because he just doesn't think he can do all this again. So everything has always been ridiculous and pointless and tragically stupid, so he doesn't see why coming onto his bedspread while crying like a baby should be any different.

=============================================

Peter is simply not capable of understanding that Neal is afraid he's too much like Kate. Peter will never get this. He will never be able to change his worldview enough to see this as anything but insanity.

But it has taken a long time for Neal to learn this, longer than it took him to learn how to forge or grift, longer than it took him to learn any language, financial structure, or style of painting. And Neal is not going to give up this knowledge. He doesn't repeat his list to himself any more. Instead he reminds himself of what he knows. And how expensive this lesson was.

Too expensive.

At first, after Kate died, Neal tried not to think about anything.

He wept and screamed in his cell, grateful only for his solitude, so no one would tell him something insipid like that everything would be okay or it wouldn't always hurt this much.

Eventually, he starts thinking of revenge. And he is focused enough on this goal to act like everything is okay.

When revenge turns out more complicated than he believed, when it almost destroys everyone and everything Neal has left, when Peter and Neal and Moz and the team and a whole lot of favors from friends on both sides finally - finally - put some people in prison who thought they were far too high on the food chain to ever pay for what they did, Neal feels relief. Joy and gratitude and relief.

For a moment.

And then he thinks of regrets. Not to wallow, but just to think. Because, really, even though they had won, it wasn't a cheap victory. And though Peter seemed to intuitively understand that important victories take sacrifice, Neal kind of thought that was a waste.

After she died, and after they found out who killed her, it was a long time before he could think of the good times. The moments that made him love her.

After he was able to do that, he was also able to think of the other things. The other moments. Slowly, they came to him.

After a very long time, Neal is able to ask himself why their relationship got Kate killed.

And why it almost destroyed Neal. Not just on the day of the explosion. It came close to destroying Neal in countless ways.

Neal is pretty sure it's his own fault.

Neal knew that there were things he had done that led to what happened to Kate, and what almost happened to Mozzie and Peter and Elizabeth and himself. He bore some of the blame. For not being smart enough to figure it all out in time, for making stupid emotional moves that set them all back, for trusting the wrong people at the wrong time, for being so egotistical he was thrilled to let people think he had the music box without even knowing why it was sought after so ardently. And yes, for being a thief in the first place, for thinking that his own nonviolence would be a shield against an underworld where guns are a given and betrayal is the norm; Neal hated admitting that to himself, but in all the thoughts that wouldn't let him be, he had to acknowledge that being a renowned thief in the first place was a big part of what led to all that happened.

But it was more than that. It was also - and Neal felt like a cruel piece of worthless nothing for daring to think this - but it was also because of Kate.

Her actions were a big part of what led to her death as well. She really was trying to get them out of trouble, even though she was certainly playing Neal, playing his fears and his hero complex and his love of mystery like a fiddle. And she really did love him -- they found plenty of evidence of the violence she had to threaten to keep Neal alive, and Neal knew that her hatred of violence was real. But the Kate he had first met would not have done this. She wouldn't have made the same mistakes. Maybe it was being with Neal, or maybe it was suffering alone as a prisoner's girlfriend, but something had changed Kate over the years, and after grief had subsided enough for Neal to really think about what happened - to really acknowledge that it had happened - Neal had to admit that the person Kate had become...

Well, it wasn't a change for the better.

And that led to the other realization. The one that was even worse.

Kate hadn't made Neal a better person either.

A better thief, sure. A more brilliant, emboldened star of a thief. With grander plans, more exhilirating accomplishments, and stupider mistakes.

But in the end, it wasn't just their mistakes. It was their relationship.

Kate died because Neal and Kate had the kind of relationship that people just shouldn't have. The kind of relationship that pushes them too close to the sun.

And he knows that it's his own responsibility to not make the same mistakes over and over again.

And it turns out all that crap advice from Peter had sunk in after all. Because Neal thinks he might just have to take responsibility for his life.

He might just have to refuse to make the same mistake twice. Even if the mistake looks suspiciously like the greatest thing he's ever had the chance to have.

Because Neal doesn't think he can survive another Kate.

Even if it doesn't end in fire, in wreckage, it's going to turn him back into the man who got Kate killed.

He has no way of explaining it to Peter. That Peter was right about Neal living his life all wrong, but that which side of the law he was on had nothing to do with it.

Neal doesn't think there are any words for it. Not that Peter would understand.

It makes Neal queasy when he thinks about it -- turning Peter down. Refusing what's in reach in favor of some boring, safe existence.

It's ironic. Peter thinks of himself as the safe, healthy choice.

Peter thinks as long as Neal obeys the law then Neal will be fine. He thinks of himself as the simple man who can ground the live wire that is Neal.

Neal hates that he has to face the fact that this isn't how it is.

He hates that he loves Peter. He probably loves him - and it almost physically hurts to admit this - more than he loved Kate.

He hates that he can see, clear as day, that being with someone like Peter - really being with him, not in this dance they've had for years, but truly being with Peter -- would chisel away at him, would make him fall apart and mold himself to fit Peter's will, like a statue that sculpts itself, and that Neal would love every minute of it until he realized what was left of him wasn't strong enough to stand alone.

Neal would love every minute of losing himself to Peter, right up until he broke.

Peter will keep hinting that he's ready to be with Neal. Until Neal tells him that Peter's wrong, that Neal just wants to be friends.

Peter would back off if he said that, even if he knew Neal were lying. Of all the ways Peter was willing to push himself onto Neal, sexually just wasn't on the list.

But Neal knows, just as surely as he knows that he can't do this again, that he will never be able to look Peter in the eye and lie about loving him.

===========================================================

Neal decides to go to Reece directly to ask for a transfer to another agent. Neal's going to hate it, working for someone else. And he tells Hughes that Peter is great but after everything, there are too many tough memories here.

Hughes looks skeptical, but ever since Peter's team became known for being a giant-killer, other units have complained that they should get access to the the 'high-performing' consultants too. Hughes says he'll agree to it if Peter does.

Neal, feeling like an enormous coward, folds the transfer request form into an origami bird and leaves it in Peter's wallet right as he drops Peter off at the airport so he can visit El at her new San Francisco branch.

Soon after, Neal gets an email. "Please turn on your phone, Neal. Tell me what's going on. Whatever it is, you can tell me."

Neal laughs when he sees it. It's dry and bitter, but it's a laugh. Of course Peter thinks it's that simple.

Simple advice from a simple man.

Neal avoids Peter's emails until Diana comes in, rolling her eyes as if she thought this were typical Caffrey drama, and tells him that whatever is going on with him and Peter, Neal had better email Peter back or else face her wrath.

Neal nods. Eventually, he would have to do what Peter says anyway.

But a simple communication is what Peter wants, so that's what he'll get.

Neal sends Peter a text mesage.

Because his heart fits on a cell phone screen. Because there isn't enough absurdity in Neal's life.

Peter gets a message while he's on the plane. It's late afternoon, but Peter doesn't try to contact Neal again until the next morning.

Neal's text was five words long: "I can't. It's killing me."

Neal understands why the response is taking so long. Peter and Elizabeth are probably going to talk about him all night.

Neal himself spends all night dreaming of Peter. The man is lying on top of him, warm and heavy, pressing into his abdomen so that Neal can't breathe, is gasping for life. And of course it's Neal's own fault, because in his dream, Neal's arms are wrapped around Peter's back so tightly that even if Peter wanted to move he couldn't. He wakes up sweating and sits on the cold bathroom floor and wonders what Peter is going to say.

The next morning Peter shows up at his apartment. Neal realizes that he must have taken the first flight back as soon he arrived in San Francisco.

And then Peter kisses him for the first time.

Neal had fantasized about this moment for a very long time. Frankly, he thought it would be better.

Hungrier.

It's a good three seconds before Neal figures out the reason it's so slow and so sad.

Peter parts and hands him the transfer papers. Signed and approved.

Neal thanks him, doing a piss poor job of hiding his tears. And then he asks Peter to leave.

Peter does, with just a fond pat on the shoulder and a reminder that he can always change his mind.

Neal realizes that he is going to get what he asked for. The chance to find out who he was - or if there was anyone there at all - when he wasn't trying to earn someone's love.

It's not what he wants.

But he can't live without it. Neal cannot survive another Kate.

He doesn't watch Peter walk out. He sits at the desk and stares at the transfer form, eyes blurry and wet. He tries to squint, to make the form look like freedom, like it's releasing him from something.

He puts his hands flat on the desk and tries to remain still as he stares at the rectangle of the form.

If he can sit here absolutely motionless, he thinks he might get through this.

He won't get up and run after Peter. He will remember what he has figured out about himself. About love.

He will remember that this knowledge had a price.

Neal wills himself to freeze his motions, to sit at the desk like a statue, and to tell himself that he will get through this.

He will get through this. He will still his racing pulse and ignore the wrenching in his gut and he will be perfectly, perfectly still.

He will survive if he stays perfectly still.

(end)