Work Text:
“I can’t believe we actually did that,” Diana said, laughing in slight incredulity. “We have some of the most infamous, impossible to catch thieves of our time all in custody. I keep waiting for the catch.”
“Things are always interesting around here with Caffrey,” Jones agreed. “Interesting and productive. He did really good work on this one.”
“He always does.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m gonna miss him,” Jones said. “You know about that contract he has?”
“The Panthers in exchange for his freedom? Yeah, I heard.” Diana nodded, a small, slightly sad smile finding its way onto her face. “You said it yourself. He did good work. He’s earned this.” She gestured somewhat helplessly. “I’m going to miss him too, and not just the excitement and high closure rates he brought around here. I know you spoke against his commutation last time he had a shot at freedom, but this time, I’m really glad we’re setting him free.”
“I meant what I said back then. But I don’t think you’re wrong,” Jones agreed, tilting his head thoughtfully. “He’s certainly changed a lot since day one. I still always thought he should have just done his time in the first place, or at least the second place, but at this point, he’s been promised this too many times for us to back out now. And he has earned it.”
“And when has anything ever been done the normal way with him around?” Diana remarked wryly.
“Truest thing you’ve said all day.” The two of them laughed contentedly. A major case closed, a major milestone for an unlikely friend, and a major amount of paperwork ahead of both of them, the balance between excitement and normalcy was pleasant.
Diana’s phone buzzed, and she checked the caller ID. “It’s Peter,” she said, answering the call. “Hey, boss. What’s going on?” She listened for a moment, her smile fading slightly. “What? Oh my God. Oh my God, no he didn’t.” Jones raised an eyebrow, wondering what Peter could possibly be saying, but Diana didn’t give him any clues. “That bastard. I’m going to kill him. …Good. …How is he? …Is he going to be okay? …You have to tell me the second you know anything, Peter. The second. …Oh, of course. Let me know what they say.” Diana let the phone relax for a second, but her face was tense and worried.
“What happened?!” Jones asked.
“We don’t know yet… Peter’s talking to…” Diana trailed off at both of her attempts to explain, leaving Jones grasping for any possible explanation. The “no he didn’t” made him wonder if Caffrey pulled something, but if he had, there would be an expression of minor irritation on Diana’s face. Instead, she looked like a major part of life was teetering precariously off the edge of a cliff.
Peter must have come back to the phone, because Diana turned her attention back to the device. “What did they say? …Oh my God. …Are they sure? …This can’t… I know. I’m sorry. …Me too. …Okay. I’ll… I’ll see you then.” Diana ended the call, looking dazed. She stumbled back towards Jones’ desk, collapsing into his seat.
This wasn’t like her at all. Jones was suddenly very alarmed. “What happened, Diana?!”
“It’s Neal,” she said numbly. She opened her mouth again, trying to continue, but couldn’t find any words. If Jones didn’t know any better, he’d say her eyes were shining with tears through her shock.
“What did he do?”
She shook her head violently. “He didn’t do anything,” she said vehemently. “Anything wrong, that is. He did everything right. Every last damn thing, and this is how the world repays him.”
Jones was struck with a sudden sinking feeling in his gut. Not many things could shock Diana. Almost nothing got her worked up. She had thick skin, and she certainly wasn’t one to cry. Admittedly, Jones might not have noticed how hard she was fighting to keep it together if he didn’t know her as well as he did, but he did know her, and he knew she needed to move somewhere it would be okay for her to fall apart.
“Do you want to take a walk?” Jones offered.
Diana nodded, accepting and steeling herself as they walked through the office and into the elevator. The second they were in the closed space, Jones hit every button on the elevator from floor 21 to the ground floor.
Diana cracked a slight smile as she saw the buttons light up. “Neal always does that when he… oh, God. He always… did that…”
The switch to past tense only confirmed what Jones had been starting to fear. He wasn’t an easy person to shock, but then again, neither was Diana. He shouldn’t have been surprised when it felt like his entire heart had been knocked out of his chest, like a universal impossibility had just been stated, like he had no idea what this would mean or how they would continue or what to do or say in the wake of such a thing.
“What happened?” Jones asked, softer this time now that he was sure he knew.
“When Neal disappeared from the takedown…” she swallowed. “Peter doesn’t know everything, but he knows Keller was there. Keller… shot him.”
Jones clenched his fists. “I’m going to kill him.”
“That’s what I said,” Diana said, and Jones remembered the moment and the way her eyes had hardened with the words, and he fully understood. “Peter already did. Keller’s dead.”
“Good,” Jones said coldly, wondering if that was slightly callous. He couldn’t find it in himself to care.
“Peter called me from the hospital. They gave him the news while he was on the phone with me.” Diana blinked furiously. “Neal didn’t make it.”
Jones couldn’t possibly think of what to say. What was there to say? They’d just taken down an impressive organization of thieves, something they never would have been able to do without Neal, and today was meant to mark his new start. His new life, beginning anew as a different person than he had been before he’d known Peter and joined the office and gotten a family there, far from whatever circumstances he’d been dealt that led to the life he’d chosen. He’d earned it a thousand times over. Even Jones, who was always uncertain about the unorthodoxy of his situation, was certain of that. Neal was so… he was so… “He was so young,” Jones said quietly.
Diana lost the blinking fight against one of her tears, which traveled silently down one of her cheeks. She wiped it away quickly.
“It’s okay to cry, Diana,” Jones said, feeling his own eyes begin to sting.
“He was,” Diana agreed, giving up the fight against her tears. “He was so young. This was his second chance. He was supposed to build a life from here, not give his up to win a case and boost our careers. That was never how this was supposed to end. Did he… oh God, did he know? Did he realize how much we’d care? Did he ever value his own life the way he should have?”
Did he know? Jones wasn’t sure. He had a terrible, terrible feeling he didn’t. Even Jones hadn’t realized how much he’d be affected. Then again, he hadn’t thought there was anything to realize. It wasn’t exactly something he thought about daily. For some reason, the idea of Neal dying had just… never occurred to him. He’d taken him for granted, a constant around the office, amazingly intelligent and charmingly irritating and frustratingly likeable and seemingly invincible.
And did he ever value his own life the way he should have?
Jones recalled all the stupid, reckless stunts he’d pulled. They’d always treated it like just another one of those quirks he had, like his tendency to try to break the law or do the wrong thing for the right reason (or even the wrong reason, for that matter). But what if it was more than that? Had Neal not realized how precious his life was? How important he was as a human being? How much it mattered that he was still breathing, day after day? This wasn’t the first time he’d put his life in extra danger for the sake of the mission. This was just the first time someone had made an attempt on his life that stuck.
His luck had finally run out.
Jones didn’t trust his voice, so he simply shook his head. Diana leaned against the wall, breathing deeply. The doors of the elevator opened on the next floor down, and Jones simply held up a hand at the people waiting to get on, shaking his head until the doors closed. He and Diana were going to need every minute of this elevator ride to pull themselves into something presentable as they walked from the office to wherever their destination would be.
He had a feeling it still wouldn’t be enough. Nothing would be.
“He was our friend,” Diana continued quietly. “Did he know that, too?”
Jones didn’t know what to say.
—
The entire office was mourning.
Peter had tried to come to work. Diana had driven him back home herself.
He’d said he needed to do something, anything. But the second he’d laid eyes on Neal’s desk, sitting just the way he’d left it, with the mini Socrates bust and unfinished paperwork he’d been working on and the pens he used to click incessantly and the drawer full of ties he’d never wear again, he’d stopped fighting Diana and let her take him home.
There was a silence around the office like Diana had never heard.
She was an FBI agent and she could keep herself together, damnit, as long as she kept her eyes away from Neal’s desk.
Maybe the silence was because of how much conversation and liveliness Neal had brought to the office without ever being asked to. Along with incessant distracted fidgeting and the highest closure rates the FBI had ever seen, he’d also brought a relaxed friendliness, and despite the initial (and somewhat ongoing) constant suspicion everyone had regarding him, he’d very quickly become a friendly face to nearly everyone, a welcome sight when looking up from a file full of mind-numbing paperwork.
No one knew what to say. So many people found themselves in a slightly lesser version of the position Diana and Jones found themselves in, realizing they’d taken someone for granted who risked his life time and time again in ways he never should have had to. Realizing they’d never slowed down and taken the time to appreciate him while he was there, might never have if he hadn’t… if he was still alive, and now would never get the chance to make that right.
“Agent Berrigan,” a familiar voice said hesitantly.
“Ethan,” Diana said, trying to greet him with a smile, even though it was impossible to smile today. Neal could have pulled it off, she thought before she could stop herself, and she swallowed before she could fall down the rabbit hole of thoughts and feelings his name brought to the surface. “I’ve told you, you can call me Diana.”
“Diana,” he corrected. “I finished these,” he said, handing her a short stack of files.
“Thank you, Ethan,” Diana said. He was new and still in his probationary period, and he’d joined the division while Neal was working undercover with the Panthers. He’d never known the normalcy of having Neal around the office, or had a chance to experience how Neal always charmed the probies, getting on their good side the second he noticed them around. Ethan hadn’t known him beyond seeing him occasionally at his desk or walking by to meet with Peter, and yet, surely he’d notice the silence that had fallen over the office in his absence.
It was like the very walls of the office were grieving the loss of Neal Caffrey.
“Diana,” Ethan said hesitantly, “is it okay if I…?”
Despite the terribly incomplete and incoherent sentence, Diana understood perfectly. “It is.”
“I wasn’t… I didn’t know him well,” Ethan said, “and the only thing I knew about him was… why he was here. And that he was good at what he did. I didn’t think about it much. I mean, I knew his work was good and that his deal was special, but he was also a person, and I guess I didn’t fully realize that until I was getting coffee this one day and the machine was fighting me and he made this joke about how hard it is to get a mediocre cup of coffee around here, and just talking to him made me feel… completely at ease, you know? I’d been told to be on my guard for that with him, but I didn’t want to be. I liked the way he could just make all the tension go away. And then he saw that I had a ton of paperwork to do, and he offered to help me, and I was a little suspicious because he hates paperwork, right? I mean, again, I didn’t know him well, but that’s what I thought.”
“He did,” Diana agreed, the past tense making her eyes sting. She blinked furiously. She was not going to cry over Neal Caffrey in front of a probie.
“But he said he had a lot going on and wouldn’t say no to some mind-numbing work, and that he figured I could use a break. And he came through. I really appreciated it. I had needed a break. I had some family stuff going on that I was trying not to think about, and I had this sense that somehow he could tell I needed the time and he made it happen. No strings attached, no questions asked, no ulterior motives. It was the only time the two of us really interacted. He was busy with that long undercover op, and all. But…” Ethan grappled for the right words. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I think there was more to him than the legends I heard about, and I wish he was still here so I could learn more about the living person behind all the myth. But you did know him, you worked closely with him, and I think if we all can miss him this much without ever having been close to him… I’m really sorry for your… I’m sorry.”
Everyone had been avoiding the phrase “I’m sorry for your loss,” Diana had realized very early on. For some reason, it didn’t feel right, and Diana understood why. It wasn’t her loss or Jones’ loss or even Peter and Elizabeth’s or June’s or, hell, even Mozzie’s. It wasn’t a loss that belonged solely to the friends and family he’d loved and had loved him back. Neal had impacted everything he ever touched. Neal Caffrey’s death was a loss to the entire world which he had known.
“I appreciate that, Ethan,” Diana said sincerely. She’d been trying not to think about Neal to avoid crying at the office while she finished up the work that needed to be done—once the Panthers were taken care of and there was nothing she could do, then she would take just a little bit of time off to let herself grieve. That’s what she told herself, at least.
But despite the fact that she’d been avoiding thinking about him, she really did appreciate the story Ethan told her. This was the legacy Neal had left behind; the legacy that mattered, anyway. She still grieved deeply in her heart for the life he could have had, the life he should have had the chance to build and grow into, but it wasn’t the case that he’d never gotten a second chance or a fresh start. Peter had given him one and he’d done the best with that chance that anyone ever could. Possibly even better.
“‘No ulterior motives’ wasn’t common with him,” Diana admitted, “but he was a very good man, Ethan. Fundamentally good. Behind every layer, every smile that hid deception that hid hurt or grief or love, he was good. Not everyone will tell you that, but I will, and I want you to know it’s true.” It was something that mattered to her so much.
Peter had told her, with glassy eyes, what Neal’s last words were. You’re the only one who saw the good in me. You’re my best friend.
She was glad he’d gotten to have some closure with Peter. A moment of acknowledgment of the true, special friendship they’d shared, however unorthodox.
But she couldn’t help the way it tore at her heart. He wasn’t the only one, Diana wanted to say. Neal, he wasn’t. He wasn’t the only one. So many people saw the good in you. I saw the good in you.
She couldn’t fault him for not realizing, or at the very least, not realizing it fundamentally enough for it to matter when delivering the last words he’d ever say. The only person she could blame for that was herself, but she was trying not to let too much guilt sink its claws into her heart. That was a downward spiral that she wasn’t sure she’d ever recover from if she indulged it.
Neal, if you’re out there, in some kind of afterlife or in spirit or something, please hear me saying this right now to this probie you never knew well. Please hear this.
Ethan nodded in response to her words. “I believe that.”
There was a silent, not quite awkward, but unsure pause between the two of them, like there was something unfinished in the silence. Something that would never be finished, no matter how much they tried or wished for it. “I, um, thank you for these,” Diana said, gesturing to the stack of files Ethan had handed her.
“Right. No problem. I’ll, um…” He searched for the right exit words, and eventually landed on simply nodding and waving slightly before walking back towards his desk.
Diana sighed, collapsing back into her seat. Surprisingly, the threat of tears no longer burned her eyes. There was something ever so slightly healing about telling Ethan how much she’d believed in Neal.
She might not ever be able to tell Neal she believed in him. That she knew he was good. That she cared about him deeply, in a way she never would have admitted if it weren’t for… this. She would regret that, to some degree, for the rest of her life.
But there was no use dwelling on what she couldn’t do. Only what she could.
She might not be able to tell Neal, but she would tell absolutely everyone who asked or didn’t ask, who cared or didn’t care, anyone who would listen long enough for her to make sure the message stuck. She would do her part to make sure this was his legacy.
His freedom. A new start. Legends of his inherent kindness and impressive good works instead of his infamous unrepentance in the wake of his daring, impossible crimes.
The things he deserved, even if not in the way he deserved them.