Chapter Text
Phase 2: Belief
Accept he will never ask for help outright.
Let him know you believe him worthy of it anyway, whether he lies directly to your face or not.
“Suspicious activity on our six, boss.”
Peter turned just as the black clad figure shut the side door gingerly and casually began walking down the street towards their car, adjusting the bulky black duffle on their shoulder as they went.
Too casual. They were trying to avoid suspicion, act like they were meant to be sneaking out of a very nice mansion's side entrance in the dead of night.
“It’s not our guy, but should we risk blowing our cover to confront him?”
Peter hummed, debating. This was a low stakes stake-out, the suspect they were looking for wasn't certain to come tonight and the house across the road had been still and silent the whole time. Then the figure passed under a streetlight and Peter recognized the tuft of messy curls and the shape of his face.
“Yeah, but I know this one. Good kid. I'll see what he's up to.”
Diana looked surprised. Peter knew he had a reputation for being very by-the-book in all of his cases. But Neal was… not an exception. There were no exceptions to the law. He was just… exceptional. Important in a way Peter couldn't put into words. He mentally shrugged, as was becoming more and more frequent when it came to his favorite conman. El would know what words he couldn't say out loud, even to himself. (It was mercy. It was grace. It was hope. It was the exact opposite of a lawman's job, but in some sense, it's exact description.)
Peter rolled the window down just before Neal walked past him and, in as casual a voice he could muster without laughing, he asked, “Hey buddy, whatcha got there?”
To his credit, Neal didn't startle, just determinedly kept walking for a moment, face tilted away, but then he stopped short. He turned with a big, completely fake, smile. “Peter! I thought you were some creep I was gonna have to turn down!”
Peter immediately drew back in disgust. “Ew! I would never!”
“I know. Anyways, who's this? You're not really cheating on Elizabeth, right?”
“No, again, ew. It's a stake-out. This is my new probie.” Peter stepped out of the car, Diana following suit. “Neal, Agent Berrigan. Agent Berrigan, Neal.”
Diana cocked a brow distrustfully but nodded in greeting. “Good to meet you, Neal.”
Neal flashed his most charmingest smile, but Peter noted, like his grin from before, it was plastered on, like a bad paper mâché mask. He also noted the dark circles under his eyes and the rumpled clothing, like he'd slept in them the night before and didn’t have the energy to change. Neal looked like he needed a shower, a good meal, and a solid night's rest in that order, and he was determined to hide it.
"Likewise Agent Berrigan. You seem very competent.” Then he rounded on Peter, “And it's a good thing you aren't cheating. I would tell El immediately and then give her the number to a divorce lawyer I know.”
“You have a divorce lawyer on speed dial?”
“I do. He's very good at his job and he really doesn't like the government.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
Neal smiled again but looked over his shoulder for the fourth time during their conversation. He was nervous. Peter had never caught him in the middle of something. He didn't know Peter had no plans to arrest him any time soon. Quite the opposite actually.
But that plan would be hard to stick to if he'd just witnessed a crime first hand.
“So, what's in the bag?”
“A gift.”
“A gift?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of gift?”
“A very generous one.”
“Did the previous owner know they were giving it?”
“Yes of course. The Ellingtons are very kind. I wouldn't dream of stealing from them.”
“So, if I have you wait right here…” Peter reached for his cuffs, “... while Agent Berrigan asks the Ellingtons a couple questions…”
Diana stepped forward, ready to act.
Neal's eyes went wide and he stepped back. “I swear Peter! None of this is stolen! It was a gift! I'm telling the truth!”
Peter stared at him hard, searching his face, his strung-out body language, his exhausted blue eyes.
“You swear it was a gift?”
“Yes! Peter, you have to believe me! I wouldn't lie to you. Please! I can't go to prison right now.”
Peter gave him one last hard stare before nodding once, “Okay. I believe you.”
“You– do? Just like that?”
“I do. Just like that.”
“Boss?”
He ignored Diana for the moment. “Why can't you go to juvie right now, Neal?”
Neal stared just past Peter's left shoulder but offered no explanation.
Peter, once again, didn't push. Instead, he asked, “What's wrong, Neal?”
He summoned a half-hearted look of confusion, “Nothing is wrong. I'm fine, Peter.”
“You just said you wouldn't lie to me.”
“And I said I was fine.”
They stood like that, neither willing to budge.
“Diana, would you mind giving us a moment?”
She looked skeptical about leaving Peter alone with a stranger but dutifully pulled open her door, “Sure thing, boss.”
Neal waited until the door thumped closed. “You're not even going to ask what's in the bag?”
Changing the topic. Smooth. “I wouldn't mind if you volunteered that information, but no, I wasn't going to ask.”
Neal frowned, unwilling to let the conversation drift back to his health. “It’s clothes. Old clothes.”
Peter just nodded.
“I met June at the thrift store. She was donating some of her girls' old clothes and offered me the rest.”
“You're right. That is very kind.”
“You really trust my word? You don't want to check for yourself?”
“Nope. I believe you.”
“You don't want to let Agent Berrigan practice questioning a suspect and find out why I need old baby clothes?”
“No, I didn't think you would appreciate an audience when I asked you again; What's wrong, Neal?”
“I said I'm fine!”
“And that's obviously not true.” Why wouldn't he just admit it? Peter wouldn't think any less of him if he admitted he needed help.
His fists clenched at his sides and he squared his shoulders, like a soldier readying himself for battle “It is true. I am fine. Everything is fine.”
“It's not,” Peter pressed, unwilling to let the blatant lie slide.
“IT HAS TO BE!” The boy was trembling now, staring very hard at the sidewalk. “I have to be fine for– I just have to be fine. Please let me be fine, Peter.”
The agent in him wanted to keep pressure on this vulnerability but Peter sensed Neal wasn't ready to open up yet. If he kept going, the kid would clam up forever or disappear. He couldn't make him talk, couldn't force him to ask for help… but maybe if Peter offered? Like the Ellingtons offered?
“Okay. Okay, I’m sorry.” Peter wasn't a real feelings guy, preferring to handle his emotions and struggles privately and seek affection or advice only from El, but this was important. “Do… Can I give you a hug?”
The offer came out rushed and a little awkward, but to his surprise, Neal didn't run away in disgust. He just sullenly mumbled, “I guess, if it makes you feel better.”
Peter slowly pulled him in, enveloping the boy in his arms. Both men were stiff and awkward at first, but it only took a moment before Neal was leaning into Peter's shoulder and loosely gripping the back of his shirt in return.
It was quiet on the street. He knew only Diana was watching them closely. He didn't know the right words to help his young friend so he just let them all out. “It's okay. If you need to be fine right now, then you're fine. It's okay not to be okay, but right now you are. I believe you. Whatever you are up against, you can get through it. I believe in you.”
When Neal finally spoke, his voice was rough, muffled against Peter's chest. “Why do you even care?”
And Peter didn't know how to answer that. He cared about Neal. He did. But why? Because he liked him? Because he was smart? Because he saw so much potential in him? Because he was a hurting kid who deserved to be seen as a person? Because Peter couldn't help it?
In the end he just squeezed his kid a little tighter and settled on “Because I see you, Neal.”
He didn't say, ‘I see a young man with no foundation. No anchor. Nothing to hold onto. I see a kid who's had to grow up too fast and doesn't think himself deserving of shelter or help. I see a kid that's strong, and smart, and determined, but without a ship to steer. I see a kid drowning in someone else's ocean.’ He didn’t think he needed to. Neal got it. And everything else that went unsaid.
The hug had already gone on long enough that in any other circumstance Peter would have labeled it awkward but he was determined to hold on for as long as Neal needed. He wondered when the last time the kid had been hugged like this?
Eventually the two pulled back a bit, though Peter kept his hands on the skinny shoulders in front of him.
“I can't pick the direction you swim in, but I can help keep your head above water long enough to rest and make a plan.”
Neal finally looked up with a watery laugh. His eyes may have been dry, though red-rimmed and puffy, but he seemed a little more settled. “What does that even mean, Peter?”
“It means the boat analogy got away from me and I'm not very good at comforting people.” Peter smiled softly and asked, despite knowing what the answer would be, “Do you need a ride anywhere?”
“No, I don't think that would be a good idea.” The conman smiled, a real one this time, brittle and wobbly, but real.
“Alright,” Peter agreed. “But… My home is always open if you need a safe place to crash, just, so you know.”
Neal stared back at Peter as though he'd suggested using finger paint to try and forge the Mona Lisa.
“I assure you it wasn't a spur of the moment invitation. El and I have been discussing it for months now. The guest room is always open. Or the couch if you like.”
“You–?! What?”
“Everyone deserves a safe place to grow up.” ‘I’m sorry you didn't have that before.’ went unsaid.
“How much trouble would you be in if I did stop by?”
“As far as you are concerned? None. Don‘t worry about it.”
He just would conspicuously decide not to note any missing food or wonder at the used linens in the guest room. There had already been one undocumented break-in at his residence. Maybe they just had very large, abnormally literate roof rats. If anyone asked, El might be letting her second cousin’s son stay with them for school or something. They looked similar enough to be related somewhere along the line. Oh good gravy, he was beginning to think like a criminal for this kid.
“I'll… think about it,” Neal eventually said.
A noncommittal answer if he ever heard one. It wouldn’t be an offer he accepted lightly anytime soon. That’s fine. Peter would just make sure he knew it was still available next time they crossed paths.
“You sure you don't want a ride?”
“Yes, I'm sure. Thank you, Peter. For everything.”
“You're welcome. Get home safe, bud.”
Peter waited until he was gone before getting back in the car. Neal Caffrey had once again expertly evaded capture from the FBI despite quite literally being within Peter’s grasp.
•••
Diana watched from the car as her new boss chatted with a teenager who probably just broke into that fancy looking mansion on the corner, no matter how convincing he sounded. And that was just the thing right? What on earth had convinced Special Agent Peter Burke, one of the most honorable men Diana had ever met, to just believe the little thief?
It was baffling.
Good thing she had plenty of time to ponder it out, stuck in the car as she was. Though that sounded like she was pouting. She wasn't. She was very engaged, watching the short conversation like a hawk.
She tensed when they seemed to argue, and nearly flung herself back out of the car when Peter suddenly reached for the kid.
It was just a hug though. A long one. The kind of hug that you can tell a person desperately needed.
It looked like the teen was dying of thirst and Peter was the first person to offer him water in years. He clung, fingers digging into her boss' shirt, face hidden away from the world. His knees shook and her heart softened, just a bit.
Then the pair pulled apart and a couple more words were exchanged before the kid hoisted the duffel off the sidewalk and disappeared into the darkness.
Peter watched him go before getting back in the car. He didn't say anything and Diana didn't want to break the silence as they pulled out onto the empty street.
They were almost to her apartment when Peter finally spoke. “He's a good kid.”
Diana didn't know what to say. She didn't know what she thought of Neal. She liked to get to know people before really passing judgement, but when she thought about it, Peter Burke vouching for someone was pretty solid evidence towards their character. If he trusted the kid, that was enough for her for now. “He seems like a good kid.”
“He's protecting somebody.”
“Can we help?”
Peter looked pleased at the use of “we”.
“We can most certainly try.”
It wasn’t until she was midway through brushing her teeth that it hit her. The boy Diana met tonight wasn’t just some common little thief her boss had a soft spot for. Her boss had a soft spot for The Neal Caffrey, grifter, professional art thief, extraordinary forger, and all around one of the best conmen this century!
And apparently he trusted Peter quite a bit in return.
•••
Neal made it home without incident. Though the cabbie looked a little suspicious of his getup and the duffle, it was New York and he had definitely seen far weirder.
He prayed he'd made it home before his father this time.
James was on the late shift, but should be home soon and Mozzie needed to be gone by then.
The TV was off, no boots in the living room. Neal sighed in relief as he toed off his shoes, padding quietly over to his bedroom door. After tapping out the first line of the X-Files theme he slipped inside, leaving the duffle beside the dresser. Mozzie didn’t stop him as he trudged past in silence and felt his way to the crib. Eulalie stirred but remained asleep. Neal was grateful. She had just started sleeping mostly through the night again and he didn't want her to wake up cranky in the morning if he disturbed her now. James wouldn’t appreciate the noise.
The baby girl was five months old, two months since her mother was killed.
Her little hand closed around Neal’s finger and he smiled.
“Neal? When was the last time you slept?”
It’s been weeks (months if he was honest) since he slept well. He doesn’t want Mozzie to feel any more guilty that he can’t be here more often to help so Neal just watches the lumpy little outline of his baby sister through the darkness. She is alive, clean, fed, safe in her crib, guarded by a paranoid thief and a pathetic conman who couldn’t lie his way out of a paper bag, let alone convince Peter Burke he had nothing to hide.
Neal couldn’t believe he broke down in front of the agent tonight, let alone his brand new probie. Way to make a first impression Caffrey. Very suave, very professional.
Though, that hug had been rather nice. It felt good to let go of everything for a moment. But then he had to go. He’d spent a moment too long wondering what would happen if he just gave up and let Peter take him to jail. Oh, Peter would make sure Lee would be rescued and be placed in a good foster home. There were plenty of couples looking to adopt babies.
But he would never see her again. They would take her away and leave him rotting in a cell and James would go free. Or worse, it would play out like it did sometimes in his nightmares, James would get custody and train sweet little Lee to be an even better thief than he was. One who never questioned targets or went off book to make sure there were fewer casualties whenever possible. One who genuinely didn’t know any better. That was the worst scenario Neal could think of. And it was one that always dangled precariously over his head now. There was always the possibility of pissing James off and getting booked by his own father. It would be a big event too. There would be nothing tying James to Neal’s crimes and there were enough judges in James’s pockets that they could lock him away for a very long time without much fuss at all. James Bennet would get all the glory of catching Neal Caffrey and none of the blame for being the reason he turned out the way he did.
So, there was really no choice whether he would go with Peter or not. He was needed at home. He couldn’t just leave with Peter. Leave Eulalie to James. Forget Mozzie. Quit searching for Kate.
Not that he’d done much in the past few weeks. She had gone to ground and no matter what he stole to catch her attention. She wasn’t coming back until she was good and ready and he had Lee to take care of now.
Mozzie interrupted his brooding. “Neal, my friend, you need to take care of yourself.”
“I’m fine, Moz. You should go before dad gets back.”
“I am not afraid of your father, Neal.”
“Yes you are.”
“Perhaps that is my default emotion when it comes to James. But I can see how much you are struggling.”
“M’not.”
“You are .” Mozzie punctuated with a sharp poke to the shoulder, “‘There is a time for many words, and there is also a time for sleep.’”
“Homer?”
“Yes. Congratulations! You just won a full, uninterrupted eight hours!”
“I can’t, Moz! You need to leave!”
“Tonight I am not afraid of your father. I will not be intimidated nor scared off while my only friend is in trouble.”
Neal stared at him hard with all the scrutiny his drooping eyes could muster. They were dragging, eyelashes practically scraping along the floor with each blink, now that his brain had registered sleep was an option. That was a big thing for his friend to say. He wasn’t really afraid of James, just simply, extremely aware that he was a cop with a lot of very powerful friends who was more than willing to disappear Mozzie at a moment’s notice. Still. Neal didn’t feel it was right to let his friend do his job just because he was a little tired.
“Shouldn’t,” he protested.
“Should.” Mozzie pushed him lightly over to the bed. “I swear to you on Mr. J’s life, as long as I am here, James won’t lay a finger on a hair of either of your heads.”
If Mozzie said he was willing to stand up to James if it came down to it (it would most likely be fine, really it would, Neal was just paranoid), then he would fight tooth and nail to keep Eulalie safe. And with that, Neal gave in.
“Good. Night, Moz.”
Mozzie pulled the blanket over his shoulder and whispered “Goodnight, mon frere ." but Neal was already asleep.