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Neal, the entire office noted, was unusually happy the past few days. When asked, all he would say on the matter was that “An old friend will be in town in a few days,” and go about his day.
Today, specifically, he was practically bouncing. Peter decided enough was enough three hours into the day and pulled Neal into his office, “Okay,” he started. “What’s going on?”
“My best friend is coming to New York for a few days,” Neal explained. “I haven’t seen him in a while.”
“I thought Mozzie was your best friend. He barely leaves New York,” Peter inquires.
“Mozzie, and you, is Neal Caffrey’s best friend. This is my best friend,” he gives Peter a significant look.
Peter sighs, “I’ve always thought Neal Caffrey was an alias.”
Neal(?) shrugs, “A long-running, close to real alias, but an alias nonetheless. Sorry,” he grimaces. “Really though, core personality-wise, Neal is almost exactly like me. Change the art fetish for machines and lose the whole conman thing, and you’re left with me.”
“Why?” Peter questions, doing his best not to feel betrayed.
“I should probably start off with the fact that I’m not actually a criminal. Neal Caffrey, the real Neal Caffrey, is. You caught him six years ago, he served his time and turned his life around, but the JLA made a deal with him. He would help us send someone in undercover as him, and we would give him a new, legal, identity and find Kate. The Neal Caffrey that you caught and put in jail, was a criminal. The Neal Caffrey who escaped and became your CI, your friend, is an undercover JLA member rooting out a terrorist organization that infiltrated the FBI. I am the Neal Caffrey you know, I’m your friend.”
“How did no one, how did Mozzie, not notice a difference?” Peter questions, accepting the explanation.
“He did, we explained and he agreed to help as long as he stayed anonymous and we erased him if he ever came onto any government radar. As for the physical recognition,” Neal pulled out a long necklace with a softly glowing pendant from underneath his shirt. “Glamor charm from Zatanna that made me physically identical to Neal Caffrey,” he explains.
Peter nods, “It’ll take me a while to get through this,” Neal? nods, understanding. “What should I call you?”
“My real name is Roy. Since I work with the JLA I can’t give you a last name, sorry, but you can keep calling me Neal or call me Roy when we’re alone. I have to keep my cover intact for a little while longer.”
Peter nods again, “Dinner. Tonight. With El, bring your friend.” Roy smiles and nods.
He looks to the entrance and his smile widens, “Speaking of which,” he inclines his head towards a tall man with black hair and teal eyes who’s wearing a tan leather jacket over jeans and a t-shirt.
Roy exits Peter’s office to stand at the top of the stairs, “Jaybird!” he calls.
The man glares playfully, but still with some venom, “I’ve told you before: Jaybird or trachea, you can’t have both.”
“You love me,” Roy replies, smiling, making his way towards ‘Jaybird’ (probably Jay or Jason).
“For some reason, my judgment must have been impaired when I decided that,” Jay replied, accepting the hug that Roy was initiating.
Peter made his way towards the pair, extending a hand for Jay to shake, “I’m Peter Burke, Neal’s my CI.”
“Jason,” he replies, shaking the offered hand.
Peter looked at Roy, “head out for the day, just don’t forget about dinner with El and me.”
Roy smiles, and nods, “Thanks. We’ll be there. C’mon, Jay.” They exit the office.
“Back to work!” Peter shouts.
A few hours later, Peter and El are waiting for their guests to arrive for dinner. Peter had explained everything about Roy after he’d gotten home and explained how he'd invited Roy and his friend, Jason, for dinner. El, after a brief moment of sadness flitted across her face at the name Jason, as it always did, began getting dinner ready. The doorbell rang and Peter went to let Roy and Jason in.
“Hey El,” Roy called into the house.
“Hi Roy, I’ll be out in a moment to meet your friend!”
The men stood and talked, waiting for El to come out. She walked through the kitchen doorway holding a plate of hors devours. She and Jason looked at one another, both freezing. The plate fell from El’s grip as she gasped.
“Mom?” Jason asks, voice strangled.
“Jason,” El whispers, disbelieving.
“You died,” Jason states, shaking his head. He stumbles back. Roy catches him and puts a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. Peter went and did the same for El.
“You’re dead,” El argues. “I saw the news article after I got out of rehab.”
“Her name's not Catherine,” Roy mutters.
Peter looks up, “Her first name is Catherine, her middle name is Elizabeth.”
Jason keeps shaking his head, “Roy, please tell me this is some kind of fucked up Lazarus hallucination.”
“No can do, Jay,” Roy answers.
Jason groans, “great.”
“Will someone explain how my dead son is actually alive?!” El finally explodes.
“After you explain how my dead mom is alive!” Jason rebuttals.
“Fine! I OD’d, but I wasn’t dead yet. I was unconscious for a long time, in rehab for longer. By the time I’d gotten out, you were dead. As in, the paper was announcing it the day after I was released. I lost all that time with you. You were dead, there was nothing left in the city for me, so I left. I came to New York and started over as Elizabeth Johnson.”
Jason nodded, accepting her story, though Roy knew it was only until he could do some research into it. “I was dead. Then I woke up. End of story.” Jason explains curtly.
“Jay,” Roy mutters. “They know that I’m with the JLA, you can say more if you want to.”
“No Arse. I’m good. I’ll get Oracle to look into a few things before I tell another possible mother figure that I used to be Robin. I’ve been killed because of it already. I’m not keen on a repeat performance.”
Peter seemed to finally get over his shock at the whole situation by grasping onto the fact that Jason had called Roy ‘Arse,’ the normal shortened version of Arsenal’s hero name, and himself a former Robin, “Wait, you’re who?”