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The first Thanksgiving Neal spent outside of prison was barely a month after he had gained his CI credentials. Of course, he had been instrumental in helping his handler take down the Dutchman, but the relationship between a con and a cop was still a tenuous one. So, Neal was knocked off kilter when Peter offered an invitation to the Burke home for Thanksgiving. Neal couldn’t help suspecting that this was Elizabeth’s doing rather than Peter really wanting a criminal sharing his table during a holiday. And he was right—it was El who had urged her husband to extend the invite.
“Peter, does Neal have any family?” she had asked worriedly.
“Hon, the Bureau doesn’t have any information on him before his 18th birthday, but no one popped up during his trial and claimed a kinship to him. And his only visitor while he was in Sing Sing was Kate Moreau.”
“So, for the last almost four years, Neal’s Thanksgivings were institutional food shared with almost 2000 other inmates. That’s all the more reason for him to be having a homecooked meal with people who care about him,” El continued to argue.
So, grudgingly, a husband did as his wife wished, and he was almost relieved when Neal begged off with a plausible explanation.
“Peter, June has a traditional Thanksgiving all planned. She has a rather large extended family, and you know how that can be. Everybody overeats and either falls asleep in their chairs from a tryptophan overdose while the kids are running around like banshees, or they’re glued to the sofa watching never-ending football games on the tube. I assume it’s going to be a pleasant sort of chaos.”
That wasn’t actually a lie on Neal’s part. He had just painted a Norman Rockwell version of what he envisioned happening in normal family homes. It had never been like that back in St. Louis because Neal’s mother didn’t think she and her son had anything to be thankful for. But June did have a large and loving family, and she’d be celebrating with all of them at her daughter’s house in Philadelphia. But Peter didn’t need to know that. Neal didn’t appreciate charity based on pity, and this invitation to Peter’s home felt exactly like that.
That Monday after the holiday, Peter looked like a thundercloud, making Neal try to fathom what he could have done wrong in the last few days. Nothing came to mind. It had been a solitary hiatus for him because Mozzie had taken himself to the Midwest to help at Mr. Jeffrey’s orphanage over the extended weekend. Neal had barely taken off his topcoat and nestled his fedora on Socrates’ head when Peter was hovering at the rail of the upstairs balcony and giving his CI a dirty look and the two-fingered summons.
“Whatever it is you think I did, I didn’t do it,” Neal preempted his handler.
“You’re correct on that count,” Peter glowered, “you didn’t do it, as in you didn’t participate in any Thanksgiving meal at your landlady’s house. I drove by twice on Thursday and the place was buttoned up as tight as a bank vault. So, you lied to me, Neal!”
“I didn’t lie—not exactly,” Neal said in his own defense. “June was probably having the kind of holiday celebration I talked about. It just wasn’t actually taking place in her own home. She was in Philadelphia at her daughter’s place. It’s not my fault that you assumed certain things.”
Peter couldn’t help being a bit disappointed that Neal had resorted to using clever artifice to avoid being around his handler during off the clock hours. But he’d never let on about that feeling to his CI. That would make him appear vulnerable, and Neal could use it against him in the future.
~~~~~~~~~~
The next year, Thanksgiving rolled around barely weeks after Kate had perished in a fireball on a tarmac down by the Hudson.
“Why don’t you come over on Thursday,” Peter cajoled. “You shouldn’t be alone unless you’d prefer June’s company instead of mine and El’s.”
“June’s away on a cruise, but I wouldn’t be a very good guest right now, Peter. And truthfully, I’d really prefer to just enjoy the quiet,” Neal said softly.
“I can respect that, Buddy, even though El will be disappointed,” Peter replied in a gentle tone. “But if you change your mind, just come on by.”
El was disheartened because she realized there was no way she could really know the deep anguish Neal was currently enduring. “Peter, maybe we could just do a quick drop-in visit later in the evening with a slice of pumpkin pie. Neal needs to know he’s not alone in his sorrow.”
But her best intentions didn’t pan out. Peter drove them to the Riverside Drive mansion after checking Neal’s anklet data, but the mansion remained dark, and no one came to the door after they rang the doorbell repeatedly.
“Hon, I think Neal’s made it crystal clear that he doesn’t want us invading his private space,” Peter was brutally frank.
“And he’s right because maybe we are being presumptuous,” his wife said with a sigh. “My heart aches for him, Peter. But Thanksgiving is just one holiday. There will be others, and maybe he’ll be more comfortable being around us at a future Christmas, or Easter, or a 4th of July cookout. We just have to be patient, no matter how hard that is for us.”
~~~~~~~~~~
And Elizabeth was correct—there were a multitude of other holidays celebrated over the coming years. But as Fate would have it, Neal seemed to miss them all. He and Peter were barely speaking the next Thanksgiving because of the suspected theft of a Nazi treasure. And that mistrust carried over into the Christmas season as well. 4th of July the next summer found him to be a felon on the run camped out on Cape Verde. And down the road, the surprise emergence of a biological father willing to commit the ultimate sin resulted in Peter being incarcerated over several late year holidays.
Finally, well into the fourth and what was supposed to be the final year of Neal’s supervised parole on the anklet, three people actually sat down in the Burke home for a Thanksgiving meal. There had been a lot of water under the proverbial bridge during Neal’s time tied to his handler, and there was just one more stupendous obstacle to overcome. The Pink Panther heist was meant to be the zeitgeist of Peter’s career and Neal’s ticket to freedom.
“I suppose next Thanksgiving El and I will probably have to travel to someplace exotic in the world if we want to celebrate Thanksgiving with you,” Peter said with a hint of melancholy in his voice.
“You think?” Neal teased with a grin.
“Buddy, after almost a decade stuck in some part of New York state, you probably feel like a bird whose wings have been clipped. After this Pink Panther takedown, you’re going to be free to soar away, and I think you’ll leave New York in the dust. So, give me a hint where El and I will be going next November. Maybe we’ll be purchasing plane tickets for Paris or the Côte d'Azur?”
“My vote’s on Positano, or maybe Florence,” El said hopefully.
Neal chuckled. “You guys know me pretty well, but you should also know that Thanksgiving is a purely American holiday and it’s not celebrated in France or Italy.”
Peter snorted. “So, we’ll start our own tradition. If we can’t find a suitable turkey over there, we’ll roast a capon and El can stuff it with Brie or some kind of pasta,” he said gruffly to hide his emotions. Letting go of someone he cared about was going to be beyond difficult.
Unexpectedly, Neal found it hard to prevent his eyes from welling up. The two people sitting at this table had come to love him, and he had allowed himself to love them back. And in just a few days’ time, he was intending to cause them terrible hurt and grief. In that fragile moment, his resolve faltered a bit. But then he realized that by severing the cord that bound them together, he was the one setting them free. Maybe at some Thanksgiving table in the distant future, he hoped they’d be remembering him fondly and even thanking him for allowing their lives to become normal again.
Wishing all my fan fiction friends who celebrate the holiday a very Happy Thanksgiving!