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Once a year, the universe lets a little more magic into her midst to reveal the soulmates of those who reside within her; this day has many names in different languages and cultures, but in the United States, it is most commonly referred to as “Soulmate Day.”
When children are born, they are given a white tunic imbued with magic such that it grows with them; this is the customary garb of Soulmate Day. This garment is also imbued with magic such that, on Soulmate Day, if soulmates are to find and touch one another, the white clothing erupts into color.
While some avoid dating during the rest of the year, others decide to take a chance and date, knowing that their significant other might not be their soulmate. Some couples even wait upwards of a year to find out, with the day after Soulmate Day seeing a boom in the availability of chocolate and ice cream for heartbreak as well as a rush of weddings following a soulmate reveal.
On Soulmate Day, Soulmates who have already found each other still wear their colorful garb in continued celebration of their bond, and many treat it as a happy anniversary.
However, sometimes tragedy befalls one soulmate and not another. In the case of death, the surviving soulmate will still wear the ceremonial garb, though after a soulmate dies the colors fade to a black color, symbolizing mourning. For these people, Soulmate Day tends to be a painful reminder of all they had lost.
Dick Grayson was one of these people.
☀◈◈☀◈◈☀
Soulmate Day was coming up, and everyone was abuzz with excitement- the FBI White Collar team was no exception. In fact, that was the subject of discussion on their latest team stake-out, though Neal looked like he would rather be anywhere else.
“C’mon Caffrey, you must be excited for Soulmate Day!” Diana said.
“Yeah Neal, you’re the hopeless romantic,” Peter added, to which the CI only shrugged. It wasn’t inaccurate per se, he was a romantic, it was just… Soulmate Day was a vivid reminder of all he had lost. His soulmate had died saving them all, and no one but his old team and some other heroes knew of Wally’s sacrifice; he couldn’t even explain it to his new team, given the high level of Justice League security clearance that event was hidden behind.
Fortunately for Neal, his coworkers detected movement from within the surveilled building, and thus the team’s attention shifted towards their actual job and away from thoughts of soulmates.
☀◈◈☀◈◈☀
“It’s your first Soulmate Day out of prison,” El said during dinner a few days later, “you have to be excited for that.”
Once again, Neal shrugged, feeling frustrated with his inability to tell the truth to his closest friends- that he wasn’t Neal Caffrey but rather, Dick Grayson, and that his soulmate had already died. Instead, he pretended like he was chewing a large bite as he pondered how to proceed.
“I suppose,” he said, unable to settle on any sort of explanation for why he wasn’t thrilled about the holiday like the masses around him.
“You have your tunic, still?” El asked, referring to the ceremonial white customary to Soulmate Day.
“Yeah,” Neal forced out, not adding that his ceremonial garb had changed from vivid shades of red and yellow to a deep black, a visual marker of the deepest of mourning. While the ceremonial clothing erupted in color when one met their soulmate, it would dim to the darkest black when one’s soulmate had died. He had seen, before, people younger than him suddenly witness their clothing changing to black the moment they put it on, then witnessed their despair and heartbreak at knowing that they’d never even know who their other half was. There was also a disturbing incident he witnessed one Soulmate Day, where a couple wearing colorful clothing got in an accident; their clothing was still vibrant as the ambulance carried the victim away but, shortly after its departure, the other half of the dyad’s clothing faded, his face contorting in pain and loss.
Really, he considered himself lucky to have had the time with Wally that he did.
However, Dick Grayson couldn’t share any of that as his Caffrey identity- he had an image to maintain.
“That’s good,” El said gently as Peter shot him an odd look.
“I don’t get it, Caffrey,” his handler started, then at his wife’s pointed cough, amended his statement to, “I don’t get it, Neal.”
“What don’t you get?” Neal replied, aiming for a lighthearted tone- maybe if he acted like Peter was particularly dim, the agent would leave it alone.
He should have known better- he knew Peter, after all. The man was like a dog with a bone, relentless once he had something he thought to investigate.
“Why you seem so resistant to talking about soulmates, and Soulmate Day. You’re the last person I’d expect to not believe in that ‘fated to be’ sort of stuff.”
“Never said I didn’t believe,” the undercover vigilante pointed out in a low, muttered tone, to which Peter gave him a long look.
“Are you planning something?” he suddenly asked, and Neal couldn’t help but roll his eyes, “oh no, El, he’s planning something.” He could understand where Peter was coming from, at least a little, but he wished the man would grant him just a little more trust; enough to avoid making painful topics hurt more .
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” El patted Peter’s hand gently, giving him a look that clearly said leave it alone . It wasn’t dissimilar to some of the looks he had once given Wally (the bats were a private bunch, and Wally, a scientist, was curious by nature) and, for a moment, envy swelled up and threatened to consume Dick. He would never have that sort of domestic moment with his soulmate, ever again. Wally had died, too young, and there was nothing Dick could do about that.
Regardless, Peter started eying him with more suspicion.
It rankled.
☀◈◈☀◈◈☀
“Boss, I think something’s up with Caffrey,” Diana mentioned after she and Jones had a moment alone with their boss in the office building.
“He seems suspicious, like he’s planning something,” Jones added, “I like the guy, really I do, I just… can’t trust him. Especially not when he acts like this.”
“I know,” Peter sighed, already dreading whatever mess his CI was going to make, trying to keep Neal out of prison and trying to save his own job, “thank you for bringing it to my attention regardless.”
☀◈◈☀◈◈☀
The more time progressed, the more sure Peter was that his CI was off planning some heist. His suspicion towards the conman had consumed most of his thoughts, and his suspicion was only magnified once he entered the office, only to see Caffrey clad in a black outfit not unlike the one he wore to burglarize buildings.
Wearing his cat burglar suit to the office is bold, even for Neal, Peter thought, a headache blooming.
Consumed with suspicion, all thoughts of Soulmate Day seemingly flew from Peter’s mind as he angrily approached his CI. The rest of the office had been poorly concealing their stares at the conman, which only served to further Peter’s suspicion.
“Neal!” he barked, “my office!”
He missed the glares and concerned looks the rest of his coworkers were sending his way as he led the young CI up to his office.
☀◈◈☀◈◈☀
“Neal!” Peter snapped at the CI the moment his office door was shut- though there was no visual privacy, the glass doors at least served to muffle the sounds of whatever Peter was yelling at him about this time. Sighing, he hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his formal black pants and rocked back on his heels.
“I don’t see how you can be so casual when it’s clear you’re about to steal something!”
Okay, now Dick was actually confused, forgetting what day it was, “why the hell do you think that!”
“Just look at yourself, Neal!” Peter snapped, “you look like a cartoon cat burglar!”
Still confused, Dick looked down at his outfit; the reminder of what day it was slammed into him, and he immediately paled.
“Oh,” he said.
“Yeah, oh ,” Peter repeated in disbelief, further aggravating Dick’s nerves, “pretty ballsy to show up to the office dressed like this Neal, how dumb do you take us for?” The answer was not very, except Peter’s clear lack of thinking presently was starting to tip that needle in the other direction.
Dick stood there for a moment, trying to remember self-control and trying to soothe his hot temper. It was times like this that Peter was infuriatingly reminiscent of Bruce, and Dick reverted to his old behavior in kind- the fights between Bruce and Dick were legendary, seemingly shaking the manor and scaring the (literal) bats in the cave. At least his temper had become less volatile over the years, both age and responsibility towards his younger siblings and teammates serving to blunt the edge that once existed.
“Peter, pull your head out of your ass,” Dick snapped, his temper returning because Peter’s accusation was particularly egregious on that day- to stand in a colorful tunic and simultaneously accuse his mourning teammate of planning something nefarious. Really, he wanted to punch something, but punching the walls in the office seemed ill-advised (not to mention that half the walls were glass.)
“Neal-” Peter started, temper starting to creep into the handler’s voice.
“No, Peter,” Dick cut him off, “you do not get to accuse me of planning something, not today!”
“What, is it your birthday?” Peter snarked back, knowing full well that the current calendar date didn’t match the thick file he had on his CI.
“You ass ,” Dick said- Neal didn’t really curse, but the Caffrey persona was starting to slip with his temper.
“Then explain!” Peter’s voice was steadily rising as well, and Dick was sure the rest of the office could probably hear more than indecipherable sounds emanating from Peter’s office. That seemed to be a later problem, though.
“Peter!” Dick snapped, “what are you wearing?!”
He watched as Peter glanced down at his own attire- a tunic with swirls of sky blue, pinks, reds, and a few curls of green- looked back at his CI- whose own tunic was black- and instantly paled.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh ,” Dick snapped back, reminiscent of Peter’s earlier snippy comment.
“Neal, I’m-” while Dick figured that Peter was leading to an apology (well, actually, it was Peter so he could never truly know.)
“No, Peter,” Dick cut his handler off, voice hard, “save it.” With that, he forced himself to turn away and stalk out of the office, before he said something that would jeopardize his mission.
He needed a moment to himself.
☀◈◈☀◈◈☀
“Hey,” Diana said to Dick upon finding the CI, her voice much softer than he was used to. She slid down the wall to sit next to him and, for a moment, the two sat in relatively pleasant silence. Until Dick remembered where he was, and who he was with; he turned towards the agent, eyes hard.
“Did Peter-”
“No,” Diana snorted, “and if it’s any consolation, most of the office is giving him the cold shoulder now, given that we heard… most of your conversation,” she said with a small wince, which Dick reciprocated.
“Oh.”
“Neal,” she started, “I’m sorry.”
Dick shrugged off her apology- he had heard variations of that too many times, and right now he just wanted to stew in his anger. Healthy? No. Made him want to don a skintight suit and punch in the faces of some bad guys? Definitely.
“What…” Diana started, sounding uncharacteristically unsure before pushing forward, “what were they like?” At that question, Dick felt a small smile creep onto his face- it felt like ages since anyone asked about Wally’s life , rather than his death .
“Wally was…” Dick started with a fond smile as he started to list off some of the things he associated with his soulmate, “he was incredible. A science nerd, a total dork, always trying to be comic relief, an avid runner,” at that he snorted under his breath, ignoring Diana’s slightly concerned look.
“He sounded great,” Diana said quietly, but Dick could tell how sincere she was, and the two lapsed into silence again.
A few moments of peaceful, welcome silence later, Dick sighed, “We should probably get back.”
“We don’t have to, Neal. Take your time,” she urged.
“Thanks,” he said, feeling his eyes become suspiciously wet, “but I don’t think Peter will appreciate-” his words seemingly summoned the handler, who cut off Dick’s sentence.
“Neal!” he snapped again, and Dick drew himself up to his full height. He wasn’t nearly as intimidating as Bruce or Jason, who were both built like brick walls and had enough height to tower over most people. Dick was shorter, more slight, but still very much intimidating when he wanted to be- just ask any of the Bludhaven rogues.
“What, Peter?” he asked shortly, watching as Diana glared at their boss in his periphery.
“Boss-” Diana started, but got equally cut off.
“Not right now, Diana,” Peter ground out, “Neal, with me.” Giving Diana a shrug and confused look, as if asking what can I do? he turned to follow the agent in charge.
☀◈◈☀◈◈☀
When they arrived back at the bullpen, Dick suddenly understood what had Peter so riled up (other than, you know, everything else that had happened at work thus far ); standing by Neal’s desk was the large and looming form of Jason.
“Little Wing!” he called out happily, briefly forgetting that he would now have to explain why Neal Caffrey called a hulking man ‘ Little Wing’ as he beelined to his desk, rolling his eyes at but otherwise ignoring Peter’s grumbling behind him about criminal friends not visiting the workplace.
“Who pissed in his cheerios?” was the first thing Jason said, giving Peter a pointed look.
“Don’t desecrate the sanctity of cereal like that!” he protested, and Jason snorted quietly, “but admittedly accurate.”
“What’d you do?” Jason wheedled in a teasing way, reminiscent of (the better parts of) their childhood.
“Ugh,” Dick said in response, “I’m not going to tell you, because I need my handler in one piece, still, please.” With that, Jason’s expression grew from vaguely irritated to stormy.
“What exactly do you mean by that,” Jason growled, starting to sound dangerous.
“It’s fine, Jay.”
“It clearly isn’t. So you could tell me or I could be creative in extracting it from your handler, your choice.”
“Should’ve been a theatre major,” Dick grumbled.
“Corpses don’t really attend college,” Jason remarked dryly.
“Have you seen some of those students though, because honestly I beg to differ. Some are as bad as Timmy with not sleeping and then to make up for it, their coffee habit.”
“You’re trying to change the subject, Dickface. What. Did. He. Do?! ” Jason asked, jabbing Dick’s chest with his pointer finger to emphasize each word.
“Jay it’s really-”
“I swear to G-d if you say it’s ‘nothing’ or it’s ‘fine’ again-” Dick cut his brother off; the office was already wary of Jason, he could tell, and thus introducing them to agitated Jason was a recipe for disaster. Instead, he grabbed Jason and called out over his shoulder that he’d be getting an early lunch. Peter bristled, looking like he was about to object, probably on the basis of Neal associating with his criminal pals (oh, if only he knew that the infamous Red Hood had shown up to the office) but one look at Jason’s face and body language rapidly changed that, and he instead grumbled to himself as he went back up towards his office.
☀◈◈☀◈◈☀
Dick tried to keep Jason out of it, he really did, but his brother could be as relentless as Bruce or Peter if he found a worthy enough cause. Which is why, fifteen minutes later, as they walked around Neal’s radius quietly eating food they found at a local food truck, Jason found a way to steer the conversation back to Peter and Dick- or, rather, Peter and Neal .
“I’m not giving up on this one, Dickie,” Jason said, a complete non sequitur from their light, meaningless conversation earlier at lunch, and Dick sighed.
“Fine,” he grumbled, watching Jason smirk, “but you’re not allowed to harm Peter or threaten to harm Peter. I still need my handler, and you need to not be arrested because, you know, you’re technically dead. And that would be a lot to explain to the FBI.”
“Big Bird, I don’t know if you know this, but every time you say ‘don’t freak out!’ and ‘don’t hurt Peter!’ and ‘it’s fine!’ you look suspicious as fuck. Which doesn’t make me feel good about this promise, but fine,” he sighed, completely overdramatically, “I won’t hurt Peter, even though he was an ass.” Dick smiled lightly, pretending he couldn’t hear the other man grumble under his breath, “unless it’s something really bad. Then I get to hurt him.”
Dick took a deep breath, bolstering himself as he started to relay the story, emotions slamming into him now that he was two miles removed.
“They’ve all been asking me about Soulmate Day, and how I must have been so excited for it, how I’m the hopeless romantic,” he sighed, “and I couldn’t exactly tell them my soulmate is, you know, dead .” Jason’s face twisted then, some complex mix of thoughts and emotions Dick couldn’t quite figure out (except for anger. There was definitely anger there.)
“Jay?”
“I’m fine. Continue,” Jason replied in a staccato tone, and Dick skimmed over his recollection of the conversation, trying to figure out why his brother had suddenly become stiff next to him but he couldn’t think of anything in particular that would have evoked that particular reaction. Dick stared, trying to read Jason’s body language before the younger man again spoke in the same tone, “seriously Dick, spit it out.” Dick didn’t want to gloss over Jason’s obvious emotions to continue telling his bullshit tale of woe, but he also was smart enough to recognize a battle lost- trying to wheedle Jason’s emotional state for him now would cause damage.
“Fine,” Dick sighed again as he jumped back into retelling the story of the morning, “so they all thought I didn’t know my soulmate, and so they kept bugging me about finding them. I tried to shut them down as best I could, but they read my caginess about Soulmate Day as-”
“General suspicion?” Jason filled in the last part of the sentence.
“Yeah,” Dick nodded, “they probably thought I was going to rob something, given their reactions today,” at Jason’s prompting look, he continued, “look at how I’m dressed, Jay, then remember that when the agents look at me they see a thief first.” Dick watched as Jason’s eyes widened in understanding.
“Those bastards,” he growled.
“I’m sure they just forgot,” Dick said, trying to placate his brother who put up a gruff front but would go to the ends of the earth helping his family.
“You don’t just forget Soulmate Day, Dick. The reminder of it is everywhere, people literally wear it!”
“I know,” he sighed, “I think Peter just got so caught up in the moment that he couldn’t see anything past me.”
“A myopic asshole who can’t see his CI as a person first , that’s really great, Dickwad,” Jason said and hearing it put that way made Dick flinch.
“It’s really okay Jay, I’m used to Peter’s suspicion,” he realized he made a mistake the moment the words left his mouth, Jason’s expression growing stormier.
“I’m going to-”
“Nu-uh Little Wing, you promised!”
Jason could only roll his eyes.
☀◈◈☀◈◈☀
“Neal,” Peter seemingly appeared from nowhere as Dick was about to leave Jason and head back into the building; Jason tried to give the impression of walking away while still being within earshot, and Dick groaned internally- did Peter really have to tempt fate like that?
“Peter,” Dick replied evenly, holding eye contact with his handler.
“So she’s dead?”
“How blunt and terribly heteronormative of you, Peter!” Dick said, trying to conceal his own simmering emotions under the Caffrey smile and charm; Peter merely rolled his eyes in response. “But, the answer is yes,” he added, “my soulmate is dead.”
“Did you… did you ever get the chance to meet them?” Peter sounded near horrified, and that was the good man he knew, the reason why he took this assignment.
“Yeah,” he replied softly, “I did.” He offered no details beyond that, though Peter’s silence meant the handler was clearly angling for more information. Finally, after a minute of tense silence dragged out, Peter was the first to crack.
“I’m sorry Neal, but with the way you were behaving, you really can’t blame me for being suspicious.” And that was the part of Peter that Dick hated, the part that made unilateral decisions, deflected blame, and overall reminded him of Bruce a little too much to be comfortable.
At that, Dick saw his brother stalk over to where Peter was standing, and carefully kept any sort of laugh at bay, making sure to maintain eye contact with Peter. Jason, as massive as he was built, was still able to slink by as he made no sound. He couldn’t even feel that bad for the agent after he had said that .
“Actually, Peter,” Jason said, leaning just a little too close and curling his lips into a hint of a sarcastic smile, “I can.” Peter startled, clearly not expecting Jason’s presence directly next to him. His response was suboptimal, though, pointing a finger at Jason as he started to go on his ‘it’s a violation of Neal’s parole to associate with criminals’ rant.
“Have you maybe ever considered,” Jason said, the words slow and deliberate, sounding increasingly furious, “that Neal could have friends who aren’t criminals?” Dick had to actively work at keeping an even face- that was rich coming from the guy who made a statement with a duffel bag full of severed hands.
Peter floundered for a minute, clearly unsure how to respond and also clearly uneasy after that particular interaction. Unfortunately for him, he responded in perhaps the worst way possible, barking out “Neal, we’re going!” Dick just shrugged and made to follow Peter into the building, but before they were out of earshot, Jason spoke again.
“I’ll be back,” he said ominously, and Dick took maybe a little too much joy in the way he could see Peter visibly gulp.
Served him right.
☀◈◈☀◈◈☀
The afternoon was tense, to put it mildly. On the bright side, a lot of the office seemed to take his side on the newest part of the ongoing Caffrey-Burke drama. On the less bright side, Peter kept asking pointed questions about Jason, trying to find the criminal history he was convinced existed. Eventually, Peter left his desk alone; this would ordinarily be met with relief, except Dick knew Peter. Peter never gave up on the chase, meaning he had probably found something (and Dick feared what exactly that was) on Jason.
☀◈◈☀◈◈☀
When Jason had announced that he’d be back, Dick was expecting for his little brother to show up at June’s. He was not expecting to see a furious Jason, muttering to himself, storm back into the White Collar bullpen. This was… not good. Jason found his way to Neal’s desk and stood in front of it, expression dark.
“Jay…?” Dick said, a little nervous.
“He couldn’t tell you, he said, it would ‘disrupt the mission’ he said,” Jason muttered under his breath, “that absolute bastard of a man I cannot believe-”
“Jay!” Dick cut his brother’s mumbled rant off, “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
“Wally’s alive,” Jason said after a moment of silence, and Dick could feel his mouth agape.
“Jay, I swear if this is some sick joke-”
“It isn’t, you know full well that people in our line of work don’t stay dead. Just look at me, Steph, Damian, Cass… hell, just look in the mirror!” Dick really hoped people weren’t listening in too closely, but he should have known his hopes would be unfounded.
“And I quote, ‘people in our line of work,’” Peter said, sounding too smug, “I knew it!”
“Maybe I’m just an artist,” Jason proposed.
“If you were just an artist you wouldn’t have said you were just an artist!”
“Peter,” Dick said, exasperated, “you sound like Moz.” Peter’s eyes narrowed as he thought about what he had just said, eventually realizing what Dick meant.
“Dammit, Neal!”
“That one was not my fault.”
“Neither was showing up to work today in the same clothing as everyone else,” Jason added, and Dick glared- he loved his brother but oh, he wished he would shut up right about now.
“Shut up, both of you,” Dick said, trying to keep the begging from his voice as he turned back towards his brother, “Wally… he’s alive?”
“Yeah,” Jason said, and his voice took on an angry, hard edge, “a few months ago, actually. I just… I figured B would have told you, you know? I don’t know why I thought that, because it’s B we’re talking about here, but I thought even he would have…” Jason trailed off, and Dick felt anger towards his adoptive father rise.
“For the good of the mission?” Dick echoed something he had heard Jason mutter earlier.
“Yeah,” Jason replied, “look how good that ended up being for the mission.”
“It’s fine,” Dick immediately jumped to try to soothe Jason- Bruce was an ass at times (most times, really,) but it was always bad when Jason was angry and without an outlet, “Jay, I’m okay really, the mission is still fine.”
“First, I’m calling bullshit- your soulmate died and no one told you he came back !” Jason exclaimed, starting to draw a few weird looks from around the office, “and second, Jesus Dickface, the mission is not more important than your wellbeing!” Dick opened his mouth again, intending on more placating words, but before he could speak, Peter did.
“The mission?”
Well, fuck.
“It’s nothing, Peter, really-”
“Are you and your little criminal friends trying to infiltrate the FBI?!” Peter hissed, and Dick groaned- of course the man would come to that assumption, and Jason did not look happy about that. The funny thing was that Peter’s accusation was not that far off the mark, considering vigilantism was sort of, technically, maybe a crime.
“Shut the fuck up, Peter,” Jason growled before Dick could say anything to soothe Peter’s ruffled feathers. Though, at this point, that seemed like a little bit of a lost cause- honestly, knowing Wally was alive made Dick’s concern about blowing his cover negligible. Bruce probably did have a point with his ‘it’ll disrupt the mission’ rationale, but the man needed to think in terms of people and not just the mission .
“He’s alive?” Dick asked his younger brother again, feeling a little bit like a broken record. He couldn’t help it though- Wally ( Wally! ) was back and Dick wanted nothing more than to see his soulmate, not in holographic memorial form.
“Yeah, Dickie, he’s alive,” Jason said, his voice turning softer as he turned his attention back towards Dick. Dick, who was shaking and on the verge of tears because Wally was alive.
“I gotta go-” he made to stand up, intending on finding the fastest way to get to Central City when…
“Wally,” he said breathlessly, fully standing up from behind his desk to face the man jogging into the room, a smile pulling at his lips. He watched as Wally swept his gaze around the room, clearly searching for something before his eyes met Dick’s and he was across the room a little too quickly.
“Rob,” he said, breathlessly.
“Wally,” Dick said, equally breathlessly, before Wally’s eyes traveled downwards slightly and he made a strangled sound. It took a moment for Dick to process that Wally was looking at a black tunic, drastically different from the bright yellows and reds that used to swirl on the tunic. Wally’s was still colorful, with blues and reds and yellows and greens filling up the space that had, long ago, been blank.
“You were dead , Walls,” Dick said, his voice equally strangled, “you were dead and-” before he could say anything further, Wally cut him off with a kiss.
☀◈◈☀◈◈☀
The rest of the office watched as a faint shimmer seemed to surround the two soulmates, and slowly, Neal’s tunic changed from pitch black to colorful swirls of reds and yellows.
☀◈◈☀◈◈☀
He felt the magic before he saw it, curling up around his torso and making him feel impossibly warm- the same way he felt when he and Wally had given each other a high five on Soulmate Day, the first Soulmate Day they were in the same city (and, in fact, the same mountainous base,) years and years ago.
Pulling away, Dick looked down and caught the very last vestige of black fade from his tunic, only to be replaced by the colors of KF’s uniform.
Wally was back.
He was really, truly back.
Dick leaned in for another kiss.