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Peter Burke decided early on in the chase that Neal Caffrey was a wizard. Maybe he wasn’t an actual alumni of Hogwarts with a wand, a patronus, and a quidditch broomstick, but he was a wizard, nonetheless. Okay, so maybe his cloak of invisibility was a charismatic smile that was so dazzling it rendered his marks temporarily blind to his shenanigans. But a magic cape would make his unbelievable escapes plausible if he couldn’t be seen by the protectors of the realm. How else could he pull off the impossible robberies and assorted other mischief if he didn’t have supernatural powers? Peter ought to know because he was a wizard himself.
It should have been easier for a determined pursuer to catch the little twerp because they were on equal footing with the same mystical powers. But Peter knew he faced drawbacks because he kept his own extraordinary status on the downlow. And because of that caution, Peter found himself at a disadvantage because he was hampered by the letter of the law, meaning he had to adhere to probable cause, search warrants, and other pesky obstacles that criminals found quite amusing.
Since Neal Caffrey had a leg up on his nemesis, it was beyond irritating for an FBI agent playing by the rules. But Peter kept his hand in the game and his eye on the prize until eventually he managed to find his opponent’s weak spot. Kate Moreau didn’t seem to have any special unnatural powers, except maybe being a type of sorceress who knew she was as enticing as a siren to a poor smitten youth. When intel made Peter aware there had been a fracture in their relationship, a determined agent knew this was the time to pounce. He cleverly dangled the little hussy as bait right in front of a lovesick fool’s nose, and it had worked like a wizard’s charm.
Neal Caffrey was a good sport about the whole entrapment thing, smiling and shaking his pursuer’s hand like they were old friendly acquaintances. Peter made sure to follow up with his prisoner quickly. He realized it was only a matter of hours before Neal did the impossible and slipped out of the FBI’s custody, so time was of the essence.
“Look, Caffrey, I know exactly what you are and what you are capable of doing. So, let me tell you about the power I wield,” Peter began his spiel menacingly.
“I’m all ears,” a cocky young man in handcuffs mocked his nemesis.
Peter narrowed his eyes and got in the kid’s face. “I can charge your girlfriend as an accomplice in numerous crimes here in the States, and I can help assist Interpol so they can do the honors in several countries abroad. Aiding and abetting will get Miss Moreau a long stretch in some prison, maybe very far away. So, would you be willing to wait for the love of your life while she does hard time in some foreign hellhole?”
Neal sat back and eyed Peter carefully as if trying to read between the lines of the threat. “I think you’re using this as a scare tactic because you have something else in mind. Maybe a deal of some sort?” the savvy young man guessed correctly. “What exactly do you want from me?”
“I want you to take your lumps, Neal—which means enduring a trial and accepting the sentence you are given,” Peter began the negotiations.
“Sure, I can do that,” the shameless con man, thief, and forger shrugged with a complacent attitude.
“But I’m not finished yet,” Peter replied sternly. “After you are sent to prison, I want you to promise you’ll stay there for however long the judge decides is the proper length of time. No evaporating into thin air after lights out; no walking nonchalantly out the front door like you own the place. Just do your time, boy, like a normal person, not a slippery wizard.”
“Now why would I want to do that?” Neal seemed curious to hear the FBI agent’s reasoning.
“Because in exchange for you staying where you are put, I’ll make a promise in return. If you’re compliant, I won’t go after your girlfriend, and she can remain free as a bird.”
It didn’t take very long for Peter to get an answer. “You drive a hard bargain, Agent Burke, but I’m on board,” the prisoner quickly replied without any hesitation or waffling. Apparently, Neal valued his girlfriend’s freedom over his own, and somehow that earned him some brownie points in Peter’s book.
So, a wunderkind with special talents kept them under wraps. He obediently stayed in Sing Sing for almost four years before a promise was discarded as quickly as the prison garb that he swapped out for that of a guard. Just as Peter had feared, Neal brazenly walked out the front door. Peter used his superior wizardly powers of deduction and tracked him down within hours, but it was a hollow victory, so unlike that first time. Peter had wanted to see his little adversary rehabilitated, not broken. And he suffered misgivings when Neal was again carted off in handcuffs from an empty apartment on his way back to prison.
Now Peter worried that a former promise wouldn’t keep Neal from doing something foolhardy because he thought his paramour was in danger. All bets and deals were off, and the moron would do what he thought he needed to do. In the past, Neal might have used a wizard’s special charisma to keep predator convicts or tough gang members at bay, but he wasn’t immortal if he now became desperately reckless and it caused a prison guard’s bullet to find its way into his chest during an escape attempt.
Peter knew he was being irrational for thinking he had to somehow protect an impetuous criminal who didn’t have his head on straight. So, considering all his options, a federal government employee resorted to doing something he only did in extreme circumstances. He contacted another clandestine government staff member deeply embedded in the organization who had special powers of his own. The technological guru quickly came up with exactly what Peter needed to save Neal Caffrey from self-destructing. It was a seemingly normal tracking anklet used by the Marshals for keeping their charges on a short leash. However, this one was capable of that but also a lot more. This particular apparatus was jury-rigged with a dampening electronic pulse that would render any supernatural powers useless if Neal tried to run.
When Peter next met with a forlorn and anxious Neal in one of Sing Sing’s visiting rooms, he thought it only fair that he put all his cards on the table so the convict knew exactly what he was getting into if he accepted another deal with new parameters.
“So, let me wrap my head around this,” Neal frowned. “You want to take me on as a consultant so I can help you solve crimes but without the benefits of my special talents?”
“That’s not exactly what I said,” Peter corrected. “You’ll still be the criminal genius that you are, but you’ll be working for the good guys. In case that slips your mind from time to time, the anklet will serve to remind you that you can’t use your special wizardry to run from me and be successful.”
“So, are you saying that if I try to leave a restricted radius, some little piece of jewelry is going to deliver an electrical shock that will disrupt my neurons and have me spasming and drooling like an idiot?”
“I’m not into brutal torture, Neal. What I’m telling you is that your power to flee successfully will be hampered by a continuous electric pulse that overrides your supernatural powers,” Peter patiently explained yet again.
“What if I just cut the damn thing off?”
“Then I’ll have to catch you the old fashion way,” Peter said calmly. “I did it before and I can certainly do it again, even if you think you have some sort of advantage.”
“Do you really think I’m some kind of mystical creature who can wield thunderbolts, scale tall buildings using spider webs, or fly through the air?” Neal ridiculed his visitor. “That’s just crazy, so why would you even entertain the notion that I’m a wizard?”
Peter sat forward and whispered in a foreboding tone. “Because it takes one to know one, Buddy.”
“Really?” Neal asked with a doubtful expression and a cocked eyebrow.
“Really!” Peter said firmly without batting an eye.
“Well, this is certainly an unexpected turn of events,” Neal responded, not in fear, but in fascination.
“So, are you willing to be my confidential informant or not?” Peter asked again.
“Aren’t you really asking if I’ll consent to being disenchanted to do disenchanting work?” Neal snorted.
“I see what you did there—a very clever play on words, Buddy,” Peter sighed as he rolled his eyes. “Now just answer my question. Do you want to work with me or take your chances with prison again?”
“Maybe, but I have stipulations of my own,” the kid said boldly. “I’ll only give it my all if you help me find Kate. I have to know that she’s safe, and right now I’m totally in the dark, so that may be a distraction for me, and I won’t be able to live up to your exacting standards.”
Peter was mentally rolling his eyes this time. How could he ever hope to understand something as complicated as heartsick young love with all its drama? “Dear Abby” would have been a more appropriate and helpful resource. But Neal had successfully lobbed the ball right back into Peter’s court.
“Fine, I’ll help find your lady when we’re off the clock,” he conceded with no small amount of his own angst.
“Okay, great! So, let’s do this!” Neal grinned like a kid on Christmas morning eyeing a stack of bright, shiny presents all with his name on them.
~~~~~~~~~~
Of course, just 24 hours out of the slammer Neal had manipulated an elderly lady so he was sitting in the cat bird’s seat with a fantastic night view of Manhattan. And when he walked into enemy territory the next morning, a felon put on a smile and tried to dazzle his new colleagues with his special kind of charisma.
“Give it a rest, Neal,” Peter said under his breath. “A little decorum is expected around here, so get with the program.”
“What? I’m not breaking any of your rules. I’m just being me without resorting to trickery or wizardly stuff,” a newly minted CI said innocently.
“Let’s concentrate on unmasking the Dutchman,” Peter dictated in a firm tone. “He’s our priority right now, and your continuing new employment status is contingent on us finding him and arresting him.”
“Got it! DC Comics ‘Superboy’ is on the case,” Neal teased. “Before you know it, the ‘Incredible Hulk’—that’s you, by the way—will be able to do your thing and put him in cuffs.”
“You seem pretty sure of yourself, Buddy, and just to be clear, green is definitely not my color,” Peter quipped.
“Well, for your information, I’ve already identified your criminal without breaking a sweat,” Neal bragged. “Now it’s up to you to prove you’re some kind of superhero and take the credit for a job well done.”
And that’s exactly what happened after just one week into the partnership. And something else occurred as well. Peter, with his special skills, soon became aware that he and Neal had acquired a shadow when they ventured out of the Federal Building.
“Who’s the little bald guy who keeps using a different ridiculous disguise each day in an attempt to follow us and remain incognito?” Peter demanded to know.
“Oh, don’t worry about him. He’s just a friend and he’s harmless,” Neal answered breezily.
“So, a pal of yours,” Peter said slowly. “Is this guy like us?”
“Do you mean does he have some kind of special power?” Neal asked in a teasing tone.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean. I need to know just how much fairy dust I’m dealing with around here,” an agitated handler huffed.
Neal shrugged. “I’ll admit, he’s a little strange, but in an esoteric mortal way. He has his special talents in certain areas, but nothing in the realm of the supernatural. He’s really innocuous, so smooth your alpha male hackles back down, Twight dude.”
Peter wasn’t placated by Neal’s assurances. “I need to have a sit-down with him; no more cowering and slinking around behind my back,” a wary handler insisted, leaving little room for dissention in the ranks.
“You may find yourself regretting that,” Neal warned.
And Peter’s CI was right. Haversham set Peter’s teeth on edge, and he was happy to give him a wide berth. Crazies seemed to be a dime a dozen on the streets of New York, but Peter certainly didn’t want to encourage a relationship with one. Wrangling Neal was enough of a headache.
Although the Dutchman was the first win for a pair of unlikely partners, the spectacular triumphs over evil kept coming. Neal never resorted to donning tights and a cape before leaping tall buildings in a single bound. But he was quite impressive when he zip-lined across New York canyons, base-jumped off skyscrapers, and leapt between tram cars over the East River.
And Peter never gussied himself up all in black and zoomed down the streets of a busy metropolis in a bat mobile. Instead, he made do with his trusty Taurus. But nonetheless, Neal and Peter became known as New York’s version of the Dynamic Duo of Gotham City. They tried to be gracious and humble as the accolades kept coming.
In time, Peter felt secure enough to remove Neal’s anklet from time to time to get the job done. And the Boy Wonder never disappointed his handler. Peter couldn’t prove it, but he suspected Neal was using his special talents on more than one occasion. How else could he possibly slink into obscure places where no human should be able to go, or crack an impenetrable safe with only his nimble fingers and his ear against the steel door? How could he manage to accurately replicate a masterpiece after applying a brush to canvas in the space of one night? Those things weren’t humanly possible, but Neal performed his spectacular feats with amazing ease.
Peter tried to be the perfect partner, always covering for his CI as well as having his back. Maybe on the odd occasion, he used his own special powers as well. Once he managed to put a whole cadre of bad guys into a sluggish trance by monotonously droning on about something completely innocuous until Neal managed to make his escape from a warehouse where fentanyl-laced crack was being produced.
But unfortunately, Peter couldn’t use his special powers to save his partner from a deep abyss of grief. Peter had kept his end of the bargain with Neal by trying to locate Kate Moreau, even though he felt it would not turn out well. And it hadn’t. Neal had only been afforded a brief glance at the love of his young life before she left him for good. Even wizards couldn’t put the pieces of a broken heart back together again.
Paradoxically, it was an evil sorcerer who was responsible for the young woman’s death. Eventually, Peter settled an old score for his partner by ending Vincent Adler’s life, and it made him wonder if a young Neal had ever suspected the depth of the swindler’s depravity and power.
“Did you recognize a kindred spirit when you worked for him years ago?” Peter asked one evening while he was invading Neal’s self-imposed solitude after Kate’s death.
“Peter, it’s not like we wear a sign around our necks saying we’re special,” Neal answered with an attitude. “And just so you know, I’m nothing like Adler and I never will be! But since you brought up the subject, I will clue you in about another wizard who possesses absolutely no morals and is extremely lethal. Watch out for someone named Matthew Keller. He’s evil to the core.”
And prophetically, it came to pass that Neal and Peter did cross paths with slimy little Keller. Arresting him was easy enough, but keeping him incarcerated was not. It should have bothered Peter that, just like with Adler, Neal had shared a past with another supernatural entity missing a conscience.
“I should have tracked you down earlier, Buddy,” Peter told someone he had come to care about very deeply. “Then maybe I could have removed temptations and shaped your powers for the greater good so you didn’t find yourself hobnobbing with vile people like that.”
Neal stared deep into his handler’s eyes, and his answer raised goosebumps on Peter’s arms. “Maybe even you, Peter, with all your special mojo, couldn’t have accomplished the impossible. Maybe what I became was preordained because of my genes. I have to respect something called Fate and her karma.”
Down the road, Peter came to understand the meaning of those fatalistic words when Neal’s father made an impromptu appearance. Peter didn’t perceive any paranormal power, but the man was definitely amoral. In a real plot twist, Peter realized that he had become a sort of surrogate for someone who had forsaken that honor when Neal did what he thought he had to do to save the one person that was like a father to him.
~~~~~~~~~~
Now, all stories, even fairy tales, eventually come to an end. In the mystical world of fantasy, dragons may live forever, and Superheroes never grow old, but wizards aren’t immortal. They exist like humans in the present and eventually move on through life. Even Professor Dumbledor of Harry Potter fame aged and eventually perished. But our two protagonists were far from ready for a meeting with their maker. However, they did change their dynamic. The bond that held them together was severed when Neal completed his felon on work release status. It was an amicable parting, and Peter wasn’t surprised when his former partner took wing and crossed the Atlantic to be far from New York and its memories.
Peter was happy for Neal, and that’s how it should be in real life. You can revel in the moment, but you have to be prepared to accept change and adapt to it. So, Peter turned his attention to the next important events that befell him, like assuming the head position at White Collar and welcoming a child into his little family. Peter’s son became the center of his world, and a father did use his special talents to shape the boy into an exemplary human being. But from time to time, an erstwhile mentor would think of another pseudo-offspring, and he’d avail himself of his superior talents to keep himself in the loop and informed.
Neal seemed to be doing well and making a name for himself in Paris as the flavor of the moment artist. His works were selling with impressive price tags that riveled those of contemporary painter Damien Hurst and sculptor Jeff Koons. Just recently, Peter read in the Arts and Entertainment section of the New York Times that his former CI was bringing samples of his creations to the States for a showing in a trendy San Francisco gallery. West Coast high society was eagerly waiting to welcome him and snap up one of his works.
It wasn’t hard to find the John Berggruen Gallery on Hawthorne Street in San Francisco. A taxi had driven Peter there after he had gotten over a bit of jet lag with a quick nap in his room at the nearby Marriott Hotel. That evening, an older man exuding a bit of gravitas in his conservative dark suit meandered through the doors of an upscale gallery that was crowded with pretty people who wore their wealth as easily as they wore their jewels. Young men and women in white shirts and black ties glided through the throng offering glasses of what Peter guessed was some of California’s highly touted wines. He snagged a Chardonay and then went in search of a very special person, and he wasn’t hard to locate.
Like bees swarming around their hive, Neal was the focus of an adoring group of new sycophants all vying for his attention. But almost as if he felt a flux in the force field, Peter’s former partner suddenly looked up and his eyes went directly to an old friend. Neal smiled as did Peter, but a recently arrived patron of the arts held up a hand and telegraphed the concept that something this special could wait for a bit until a reunion could be held in private. Neal nodded imperceptibly. Message received, it seemed to say.
Much later that night, only a few stragglers remained in the gallery and all of the paintings in the various rooms had discreet little colored tags beneath the works indicating they had been sold. That’s when a handsome older version of the young man Peter once knew sauntered over and embraced him in a hug.
“I thought you might show up,” Neal smiled.
“Well, if Mohamed won’t come to the mountain ….” Peter grinned. “This was impressive tonight, Buddy. Did you by chance cast some kind of enchantment spell over your drooling admirers?”
“You would accuse me of something like that,” Neal laughed. “Personally, I found all this upscale schmoozing rather exhausting, so why don’t we take this party down the street to my hotel. I have a suite and we can order pizza while we kick back and catch up. We could reminisce about old times.”
“Considering where we are, I’m assuming the pizza will be vegan, organic, and gluten-free, but I guess I can stomach it,” Peter joked.
“Would you be scandalized if I told you folks around here make the crust with pureed cauliflower?” Neal teased.
Peter made a disgusted face, but actually, the margarita pizza that arrived a little later turned out to be tasty, and both men had removed their shoes, coats, and ties to get comfortable after they had demolished it.
“So, tell me about my namesake, Peter. How’s little Neal doing these days?” Peter’s former associate asked curiously.
“Growing like a weed and keeping me on my toes. He’s the starting pitcher on his Little League team, but I’m afraid he only keeps up with sports to please me. Unbelievably, the kid is fascinated by numbers, and it blows my mind when I see the current tuitions for places like the Wharton School of Business.”
“So, maybe not intending to walk in his old man’s shoes,” Neal said softly. “Is he like you in other ways?”
Peter shrugged. “If you’re asking if I think he has some sort of supernatural gift, the answer is no, and that’s almost a relief. What we have can sometimes be a burden.”
Neal didn’t deny the validity of that claim and remained silent, so Peter forged ahead.
“Now, tell me about yourself, Neal. I know the basics—a successful ex-pat painter and sculptor living in the City of Light amassing a mint with his creations, but your biography is a little thin. Is perpetrating an alluring mystique the norm for artists these days?”
Neal laughed. “What do you want to know, Peter?”
“Well, for starters, are there any little rug rats in your life?”
“Sadly, no,” Neal admitted. “Maybe because there hasn’t been a special woman in my life to provide them.”
“Seriously?” Peter seemed taken aback. “The Neal Caffrey I knew was like a chick magnet. Women were always willing to get into your bed, and I’d have to assume Parisien ladies are no different. Wasn’t there anyone who was special along the way—a classy lady whom you wished would stay and become part of your life?”
“Chick magnet?” Neal repeated with a lopsided grin. “Peter, you sound like a chauvinistic anachronism. It’s a miracle that the women of New York haven’t tracked you down to crucify you.”
“Whatever…” Peter waved a dismissive hand. “But back to my question. Why no female significant other? I mean, you still like women, right?”
Neal groaned. “Yes, Peter, I do like women. I even liked Diana back in the day.”
“Then what’s the problem? Why are you being so picky and cautious?”
Neal sighed. “It’s just like you said a moment ago. Being endowed with certain anomalies can be a burden, or maybe I should say a curse. How can I ever know if a woman likes me or even loves me because she wants to, or if I’m somehow making her feel that way? I don’t think I’d do that intentionally, but the power we have can’t be turned on and off like a light switch.”
“So, the self-assured and cocky Neal Caffrey is suddenly doubting himself?” Peter said as he tried to understand something that had come out of the blue.
“Yeah—go figure,” Neal grimaced.
Heavy-handed Peter tried to rise to the occasion to lighten the moment filled with insecurity. “Well, here’s a suggestion. I know a guy who could fashion a new disenchantment anklet tailored to your needs. You could wear it to dampen your appeal to the fairer sex.”
“Not funny nor helpful, Peter,” Neal complained in a tired voice.
Peter then tried to center himself and be truly empathetic. “Listen, Buddy, my advice is to ignore all the distracting white noise in that head of yours. When you meet the right person, you don’t have to think it through or worry about your possibly enhanced charisma. If you’ve met your soulmate, your heart, not your head, will tell you it’s real and meant to be. And trust that feeling. That’s what I did all those years ago when I dragged your immature butt out of prison and placed you right by my side. And I’ve never regretted it, not for a minute.”
Neal smiled as he held Peter’s gaze. “And here I thought it was the paranormal Burke gut detector responsible for your decision to give me a chance.”
“Nah—it was a different part of my anatomy. I was listening to my very human heart,” Peter said with a sheepish smile.
Neal was touched by that admission. “You know, Peter, sometimes you can actually sound profound and sincere. I like that version of you, and that makes me think your young son has gotten himself the best father in the world! Thank you for always being who you are.”
“You’re welcome, Buddy,” an emotionally moved man answered softly. And Peter now felt reassured that an old close bond hadn’t truly been severed. It may have been stretched over time and space, but it still remained intact. Peter didn’t need any special wizardly powers to feel that, and suddenly everything was right in his world.