Work Text:
Neal:
When he figured out the truth he yelled, I told him I did it to help, that I just wanted to make up for what my father had done. I don’t think he believed me, I think in his head I did it for the fun of it, like I would have ever gotten a kick out of working with Hagen.
I have tried talking to him again but he ignores me, he makes sure we are never alone in a room together so I have no choice but to adhere to his wish; I keep silent. The one time I went to Elizabeth for help she turned me away, told me I made my bed and now I would have to lie in it. Maybe I should have expected that but I had hoped she would at least be sympathetic, after all, it was her who told me to do what ever I had was necessary to get Peter home.
The last month has been horrible, I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t paint, I can’t do anything. I am stuck with no way out but one, and I don’t really want to die. Mozzie is trying to help, bringing me gourmet food and everything else he can think of that might make my house arrest bearable. It just doesn’t work, the only thing I want is my life back, most of all I want Peters friendship back and I know it is never going to happen. It is forever lost and it is my own fault. I threw it away when I got him out of prison by cooperating with Hagen.
It is late now, I am half way through a bottle of red wine and all I want is to sleep so I can escape this unbearable reality of my life. At first I think it is Moz at the door, no one else comes here anymore. I was wrong. I am not sure if I should be happy or worried about Peter standing in my apartment for the first time in ages. Judging from the look of his face I think scared would be the suitable reaction.
I am going back to prison.
Peter has had enough. Elizabeth told him about me calling her for help, and it seems that was the final straw. I knew he didn’t want me near her in any way and I did it anyway, it is just another of many things but it was obviously the last time I will get to disappoint him. He told me that I will never change, that I will never be anything but a criminal. The way he said the word “criminal” you would think he had said “mass-murderer” instead, so much anger, disgust, and loathing. Underneath it all I sensed sadness as well, but that might just be my hope that he would feel something for me besides hate.
The marshals are picking me up in the morning. I am not allowed to bring anything with me. The guards outside are making sure I won’t run and that Moz doesn’t visit. They made sure that I have no way out except the one I don’t really want to take.
I have spend half the night preparing myself for what is to come, though I am not sure you can prepare yourself for the life of a snitch in prison. Most likely I will be dead within a week, I hope it will only be days.
I am a coward.
I can’t let myself be beaten to death and I can’t live another second drowning in despair. I have considered writing Peter a note, telling him how sorry I am. I don’t think he would want to read it, he doesn’t want to hear it from me now, so why would he when I am dead.
There are so many possibilities; hanging, drowning, pills, cutting, the list goes on and on and I can’t decide how I want to do it. I don’t like pain so I want the least painful way but I don’t like the idea of pills either. I don’t feel like pills are a safe enough way, someone might find me in time to save me, or in this case doom me to a life of pure hell.
I have finally decided, I read that slitting your wrists in water isn’t supposed to hurt so much. It seems like a perfect solution, bathes makes me relax and I am thinking that could make it easier. I add lavender oil, it is my favorite.
Even though I decided against leaving a note I leave my FBI consultant badge on the dinner table, this is my way of saying goodbye, I won’t need it anymore and I fell like Peter should have it back.
The warm water, the lavender and the blood loss leave me relaxed for the first time in a long while. Everything is quiet and peaceful, I close my eyes and think of happier times. A happy ending depends on where you stop the story. I decide mine stops in Peters kitchen, both of us dressed in tuxedos and El taking a picture of us, we are laughing, we were happy.
Peter:
I can’t let it go. I know I should, he did it to help me not to hurt me. I believe in the system, or I used to believe, now I am not so sure. I never really believed in Neal, now I don’t know if maybe I should have. I feel guilty for the way I behave towards him but I am angry, so incredibly angry. I am just not sure who I am angry with, Neal? The FBI? Who?
It is easier to direct the anger at Neal, but he doesn’t deserve it and I know it hurts him. The dark place inside me is happy I am not the only one hurting.
Putting him back in prison was an impulsive decision. When El told me about the phone call from Neal, how he begged her to help him make everything good again, how he wanted to get our friendship back, I lost it. This time the anger was with myself but instead of accepting my mistakes I lashed out in the worst way possible. It wasn’t until after I made the calls I realized what he would face in prison, that this time was different, now he had been a CI. It just made me angrier and made me hurt him more. I can’t even remember everything I said I just know I broke him more than I already had.
I told El what I did. She left, went to a friend’s house. She said she would be back in the morning but that she was too disappointed to stay right now. I don’t really understand, she hasn’t exactly been on Neal’s side so her reaction baffles me.
I have already had 3 beers and I would really like another 10 but something is wrong, I can feel it. Maybe I can still stop the transfer in the morning, make sure Neal doesn’t go back. I am not sure how I will explain it to my superiors, but I don’t think I can let Neal go to prison, he will get hurt.
I try calling him but he doesn’t pick up. After everything I have said and done I can’t blame him.
I go to bed but I can’t sleep, I just lie there thinking about everything that has happened. Everything I have done, everything Neal has done, everything we haven’t done. In the end I decide to get up, I can’t let him go back and I can’t let this continue any longer, I need to apologize. It takes a long time getting a cap and the trip to Riverside Drive feels long. Diana and one of the new probies are on guard duty so getting access to the house is easy.
Neal doesn’t answer his door, he is probably asleep, it is 4 am so I can’t blame him. I try the door and as always it is unlocked, entering someone else’s apartment without their permission makes me uncomfortable and for some reason it is worse this time, a lot worse, I feel like leaving again.
He is not in his bed.
He is not on the terrace.
I am a bit worried but it isn’t until I see his FBI badge I go into full panic. Something is wrong.
I find him in the bathroom, it is worse than the worst nightmare I have ever had, it is a 1000 times worse than prison ever was.
There is so much blood. He’s just lying there, in the bloodied water, completely still. I am afraid to get to close, afraid that I won’t find a pulse, that he isn’t breathing. Somehow I get passed my fear, it could have been seconds or hours I don’t know, it feels like hours.
I can’t find a pulse.
I get Neal out of the bathtub, put him on the floor and keep looking for some sign of life, hoping against hope that he doesn’t leave me like this, that I am not going to lose him.
There is no pulse, no breathing. He is gone.
The lady on the phone tells me to start CPR, I should have done that automatically but my brain isn’t working, I can’t think. I do everything I can and by the time the EMTs get there I am exhausted. They continue CPR, and then they take him away from me. They won’t let me ride in the ambulance with him.
I can’t remember how I got here, I am sitting in a waiting room at the hospital, Diana at my side and El on her way. I am in shock, so is Diana. I would never ever have though Neal would commit suicide, that he was that desperate to get out of this situation. It is my fault, I know it is, I drove him to this point, I broke him.
We wait for hours on news, I pray, I haven’t done that in years but I am desperate, I can’t lose him. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. Not Neal. Not like this.
The doctor asks for family of Neal Caffrey and I literally run across the room, I don’t even bother explaining just tells him I am family, and I am, I want to be.
He is going to make it.
They had to surgically fix his wrists, that’s what took so long. The doctor tells me we were lucky, that it was a matter of a single millimeter and he would have been beyond saving. I have to wait an hour before I can see him.
He is so still, and just like in the bathtub he is pale beyond belief, he skin looks like the sheet he is lying on. They put him on a ventilator, his body is to weak to breathe on its own. Diana and El are allowed in to see him as well but the nurse will only let one person stay and I refuse to leave. I sit there holding his hand, telling him how sorry I am, how he is a good person who sometimes has a little difficulty seeing right from wrong, but that I will never again leave him like I have been doing.
I love Neal Caffrey. Like a best friend, a brother, a son, like family. Family stick together, always.