Work Text:
“Something’s bothering you.”
“You know me too well,” Peter said, giving his wife a kiss on the cheek.
He didn’t even realize he hadn’t answered until Elizabeth raised an eyebrow expectantly. “Come on, no redirection, intentional or not. I know all the tricks from Neal.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you do,” Peter agreed wryly, and something about his expression must have given away that she’d said the name of the source of his current troubles.
“It’s Neal, isn’t it?”
It was pointless to lie to Elizabeth, not that he’d want to, in any case, so he simply sighed. “Yeah. It’s Neal.”
“Did something happen?”
Yes, something happened, and Peter had given Neal the impression that he’d let it go, but it was still nagging at him.
“How does it feel to close a case again?” Neal asked him, all smiles. Neal was always smiling when things went well, but he was also smiling when things went wrong. A smile from him could be genuine happiness or it could be a cover.
This was a cover. This was Neal guarding himself, and Peter hadn’t seen him do it this blatantly or casually in a long time. “I’m not so sure the case is closed,” he said, trying to gauge Neal’s reaction. His face betrayed nothing, of course. “Summers cracked and told us where she hid the two million, but when we went to retrieve it, it wasn't there.”
Neal hummed in acknowledgement. He allowed himself just a few seconds of thoughtful musing before he remarked, “Good thing we got a confession.”
Peter stared down at his C.I.’s guileless expression. Seeing Neal put on his innocent face was nothing new. He almost wanted to give a wry, knowing smile. But this wasn’t a wink and a nod from his C.I. Peter wasn’t supposed to be in on this secret.
This was intentional, blatant deception.
Intentional, blatant deception was, of course, Neal Caffrey’s forte. But it had been a long, long time since Peter had felt like that deception was directed squarely at him.
Sure, Neal wasn’t always forthcoming. Actually, he almost never was. And sure, even though he claimed he’d never outright lied to him (save the time Elizabeth asked him to, which Peter could forgive considering saying no to Elizabeth Burke was simply something one did not do), he fully admitted to intentionally misleading him. So, if Peter’s gut was right that Neal had something to do with the disappearing money (and his gut was almost never wrong), his misdirection was theoretically nothing out of the ordinary.
But it felt out of the ordinary, and the more Peter thought about it, the more he thought he understood why.
Neal did things for a reason, and when he didn’t tell Peter about things, often it was because he was working an angle he felt he couldn’t involve Peter in. Either Peter wouldn’t approve because it… circumvented the law, or Peter knowing could mess up his plans and he would bring him in later. No matter what, even if Peter wanted to bang his head against a wall due to his inability to teach his C.I. that the ends do not always justify the means, his end goal was a noble one, or at least an understandable one.
Peter could think of absolutely no reason Neal would steal a random two million marked bills during a federal investigation. Or two million dollars worth of Welsh coins, either, an open case Peter still hadn’t forgotten.
And he could think of no other instance where the end goal of Neal’s lying and manipulation was specifically to deceive him. Yes, he was willing to mislead him as a part of a bigger picture he’d disapprove of, but Peter was the final mark in this situation, the handler whose confidential informant was practically daring him to prove an arbitrary theft he knew he’d find no evidence for, and he didn’t like it.
Neal was a lot of things, and Peter had to admit he didn’t like most of them, but he wasn’t this. He wasn’t a guy who took things just because they were there, regardless of whether it made sense and with no regard for the consequences, and then turned around and pointed Peter in the other direction. And if at some point, he had been, he wasn’t anymore. Peter had watched him change before his own eyes, and now, he felt like he had watched him regress over a year in a single day.
He could be angry about it, sure. But mostly, he was worried.
“Reformed criminals walked into Dr. Summers’ office and walked out prepared to commit more crimes,” Peter said eventually, though his words came out like a heavy sigh. “And… Neal is a reformed criminal who walked into Dr. Summers’ office.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened, and she nodded. “Oh. So you think…”
“Two million dollars went missing during this investigation, and he didn’t lie about it, not really, but he gave me one of those comfortable, confident smiles and sidestepped the issue.”
“And you think Dr. Summers convinced him to take it,” Elizabeth realized.
“Worse,” Peter muttered. “You should have heard her when we arrested her… she turned to Neal and said, ‘You realize you’ll never be anything more than what you are,’ or something along those lines. He seemed to take it in stride, but I’m worried she somehow convinced him that he can’t change. Which is ridiculous, El. Change is slow, but it’s happened for him, and I feel like just today, with his mannerisms and suspected actions, I watched years of that unravel before my own eyes.”
“Oh no,” Elizabeth murmured, now mirroring his concern. “You really think he’s regressed in some way?”
“He lied—or, okay, he didn’t lie to me, he redirected me, which he does all the time. But I don’t think there’s a bigger picture here. And even if I would majorly disapprove of it…”
“You’d rather there be a bigger picture,” Elizabeth finished, “than for him to just be stealing things under your nose for seemingly no reason.”
“Even if the bigger picture would give me a gigantic headache, a lot of suspicion, and set back my trust in my friend,” Peter listed, his mind wandering to the fiasco with the U-boat treasure, “I would much rather there be one, yes. Neal has good intentions. At least, since he started working for me, I’ve realized that. I’m sure there was a time before that, to some degree, but this was the first time I’ve ever felt so sure he did something that would have no purpose other than his own selfish gain.” And the Welsh coins. Maybe. Depending.
Goodness, Peter really hoped this wasn’t a pattern. “And if he did do this—which, Elizabeth, I’m sure he did—I want it to be Dr. Summers’ fault.”
“Because you’d rather blame the unscrupulous psychiatrist than believe Neal is giving up on reform halfway through the second part of his sentence,” Elizabeth realized.
“It has to be because of her, right? If he was giving up on himself, he’d just run.” For the first time in a very, very long time, Peter found himself forced to acknowledge, beyond just the base level he could reference in joking banter, just how capable Neal was of slipping away from federal custody. “Do you think that’s what he’s planning to do with this cash?”
Elizabeth gave him a knowing Look. “Do you think that’s what he’s planning?”
“No,” Peter said honestly. “I don’t know what he’s doing, but… it’s not that. I don’t think it’s that.” The same gut feeling that told him Neal had taken the cash told him Neal was also planning on sticking around, at least for now. If he was going to trust his instincts when they suspected Neal, he’d trust them when they intervened in his favor.
“You should talk to him,” Elizabeth said. “Check up on him. If you think he’s been subjected to some kind of psychological manipulation that’s bad for his character and could ruin his life… Even if it doesn’t, he was still drugged by a psychiatrist and had his control over his speech taken away. For someone like him, that has to be absolutely terrifying. All I’m saying is… it’s not a bad idea to check on him anyway, as a friend. And if while you’re checking in on him as a friend, you try to piece together whether he stole that cash from your crime scene…” She shrugged, letting him fill in the rest himself.
“You’re right. You’re right, of course you are.” Peter leaned over and gave her a peck on the lips. “I should check on him, shouldn’t I? Missing cash or no missing cash.”
“You should,” Elizabeth agreed. “Good luck. I hope whatever is going on with Neal…” She hesitated. “I just hope it doesn’t ruin all this.”
All this.
Just like Peter, she was acutely aware of how quickly and thoroughly Neal Caffrey could ruin all this.
—
“Peter,” Neal greeted, opening his door wide as he invited him in. He was smiling cordially, and it was a friendly face Peter was familiar with and used to being greeted with. At the office, it made him smile in return, seeing a friendly face.
Because this was a normal face for him to wear at the office.
But this late? Inviting Peter into his home?
He was putting on a front. Which meant whatever he was really feeling, he didn’t want Peter to know about it.
Right. That was Neal Caffrey. Peter knew this; he knew him. He could work with that. “Hi, Neal.”
“Hey. So…” Neal spread his arms, inviting an explanation for the visit. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but…?”
Peter sighed, probably a similar sigh to the one Elizabeth had noted and called him out on, and sank into a chair at Neal’s table. Neal’s smile dropped, replaced not by anything more genuine but instead his carefully crafted concerned face, which Peter also knew how to recognize in an instant. “Neal… are you okay?”
And now Neal was visibly caught off guard.
Peter was almost offended. Really? It was that strange for him to ask his friend if he was okay?
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Neal asked, bewildered—or at least, seemingly so. “Peter, we won. We arrested Dr. Summers.”
“We did,” Peter said slowly, “though I still haven’t forgotten about that missing two million. But even so, you visited someone who made a career out of psychologically confusing and manipulating people like you, you were drugged and interrogated, and then you drugged yourself again while trying to remember what you said to her… you went through a lot on this one.”
Neal shrugged. “I go through a lot on a lot of cases. What makes this one so special?”
Peter cringed internally, because… “You’re right.” Peter looked away. “I don’t check on you nearly as often as I should. This should be normal, me coming to you to make sure you’re okay and give you room to talk, with how much you deal with while working for the FBI. I’m really sorry it isn’t.”
“That’s… touching, Peter,” Neal said carefully, though Peter could see through him enough to tell he really was slightly moved by this acknowledgement, “but that still doesn’t tell me what makes this case so different from the rest. Come on. There’s a reason you chose now to come check in.”
Neal was sidestepping actually answering Peter’s question, but Peter suddenly felt like he couldn’t blame him. After all, he hadn’t shown up and shown that he cared until he had an angle to work, trying to figure out why Neal would steal the cash from their investigation. He was in no position to frown at Neal’s second-nature conning. “There is,” he admitted. “The two million.”
Neal shrugged. “Hard to believe we went through all this and it wasn’t there.”
“Yeah, it is,” Peter agreed, giving him a look.
Neal pretended not to see the look, which, to Peter, more than confirmed his suspicions. “Dr. Summers could have lied about the location of the cash.”
“She could have. But did she?”
Neal tilted his head, his face once again as perfectly innocent as it had been at the office the last time Peter had insinuated he took the cash. “Why would I have the answer to that, Peter?”
Peter sighed. “Look, Neal, I really am here because I’m worried about you. I know you have something to do with the missing cash—” he held up his hand to keep Neal from interrupting him “—and I can’t prove it and I don’t want to. What I want is to know why you would do something like this. Hypothetically, if you must.”
“You’re asking a thief why he would hypothetically steal something,” Neal said flatly.
“Yeah, I am,” Peter confirmed.
Neal raised an eyebrow. “Hypothetically? A thief steals something because they’re a thief.”
And there it was.
That had to be Dr. Summers’ influence.
“So you took the cash because you’re a thief, is that it?”
Neal gave him an incredulous look. “I never said I took that cash, but you did say you weren’t trying to prove it.”
He sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I did say that. And I meant it, Neal,” he insisted. “Really. This isn’t about the cash.”
“Mhm, it’s about whether I’m okay,” Neal said skeptically. “Well. There you have it. I’m okay.”
“Yeah, I don’t think you are,” Peter pressed. “Look, I won’t ask you to say anything else about the cash, but I’ll say this much: this isn’t you. It never has been. Or, okay, maybe at some point it was, but you aren’t the kind of guy who just takes things because they’re there and he can. Not anymore, at least. You haven’t been that guy in a very long time, Neal. So yeah, I’m worried. Because this isn’t who you are.”
Neal let out a breathy laugh and shook his head, looking down. “Who I am, huh?”
Peter was silent. It was Neal’s turn.
“You’re an expert on knowing that, huh? Who I am?”
Peter remained silent, possibly because he didn’t know what to say to that either, but was pretty sure he’d struck the right nerve to steer this conversation where it needed to go.
Neal was still staring at the table, his smile fading steadily as he got lost in who knows what train of thought. The words he finally said were the last thing Peter expected: “Do you think I’m a sociopath?”
Peter was so taken off guard, he actually gaped at Neal. “What?”
“Do you?”
“Is that what Dr. Summers told you?!”
“That’s not an answer, Peter,” Neal said dryly, visibly scanning Peter’s face for a sign of his true opinion.
Good thing Peter wasn’t trying to hide an inch of his incredulity. “No, Neal, I don’t think you’re a sociopath. Now, your turn to answer. Is that what Dr. Summers told you?” He’d known this was somehow her fault, he’d just known it…
Neal shrugged. “She said it was too early for a diagnosis.”
“You stole two million dollars from a federal investigation because a corrupt psychiatrist who we arrested for malpractice told you that you might be a sociopath?”
“I never s—”
“—said you stole the cash,” Peter finished, rolling his eyes. “Right. Okay, so she didn’t diagnose you with anything, but she dropped the ‘sociopath’ word on purpose. She convinced you that there’s something inherent in you, something just in your nature, to lie and manipulate and steal, and made you think you can’t change,” Peter concluded. “Even though she doesn’t know you and hasn’t been with you through these years, watching you change.”
“Is it a change?” Neal challenged. “Or am I just so good at playing a part that you thought you’d really gotten through to me?”
“It’s a change,” Peter said confidently.
“She’s the professional.”
“A professional who’s going to jail for theft and malpractice.”
“Peter, I looked it up when I got home, okay?” Neal said, sounding frustrated and fully convinced. “I’ve had people call me a sociopath before, but it never really bothered me the same way. But hearing a psychiatrist say it…” He shook his head. “I did a little bit of research, nothing crazy, but sociopaths manipulate and deceive others for their own gain, are often reckless and impulsive, often seem charming on the surface, and are unrepentant and lacking in remorse after they hurt others,” he listed. “Sound like anyone you know?”
“It sounds vaguely like a version of Neal Caffrey I used to know,” Peter admitted. “But, unrepentant for your crimes though you are, you had lines you wouldn’t cross. You didn’t want to hurt others, not really. You never scammed anyone who would never financially recover. And there’s a reason you hated violence.”
“Having basic morals—”
“You have empathy,” Peter continued, as though Neal hadn’t interrupted, “and sociopaths don’t have that. You don’t fit the definition. And it just isn’t true that you don’t feel guilt. Not necessarily about breaking the law, not all the time, and yes, that causes me a never-ending headache, but about… other things.” He’d had a few examples lined up of times Neal blamed things on himself, but decided bringing up the fact that Elizabeth had been kidnapped or that he’d gone to prison for a murder James committed wouldn’t help the situation at all. “You blame yourself for things, sometimes when they aren’t even your fault. So no matter what a criminal psychiatrist said, no, Neal, you are not a sociopath.”
Neal didn’t look convinced, but Peter knew that if Neal did acquiesce, he would never show it, so Peter would have to settle for not knowing.
“And,” he added, quieter, “because you aren’t a sociopath, the problem isn’t a personality disorder. You aren’t sick, you’re flawed. Every human is. Yes, your first instinct for how to handle situations is to lie and manipulate people. No, that isn’t okay. But you’re getting better. You can’t fully change the way you think and I understand that, but you change the way you use it. You’ve made so much progress. And if I’ve made you feel like you haven’t…” Peter grimaced as he remembered his words to Neal when he told him he’d choose his new handler from outside the division.
Someone who will see you as you are, he’d said.
A criminal, Neal had responded, his face unreadable, and now Peter realized that the psychiatrist had preyed upon an uncertainty and insecurity in Neal that had already been there, and that Peter had helped put there.
“If I’ve made you feel like you haven’t, I’m sorry,” he said genuinely, hoping that, of all things, would get through to his C.I. His friend.
Neal wouldn’t meet his eyes. “She started talking about not being able to change, or at the very least not wanting to change, and then I started thinking about whether this is what I really want, and…” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Is it? If it’s so easy for me to…” Naturally, he trailed off and went silent before he could come even close to confessing the crime Peter had accused him of.
“Of course it’s easy to go back to what used to be a normal lifestyle for you. You once called it an addiction. Those don’t go away easily,” Peter said. “Real change, the kind you’re attempting, doesn't happen quickly. It happens slowly and sometimes painfully, but somewhere along the way, you decided it was worth it, and you can’t even begin to understand how proud of you I am for that. You realized you have a home here, and a family, and no matter what happens…” Peter thought about his separation from Neal, his new job, the brief appearance of David Seigel, his suspicion during the Welsh coins case… “No matter what happens, I still want to provide that home for you. Elizabeth and I, and Jones and Diana and everyone you care about here, we’re still your family. And we’ll be there for you through all the rough patches. That’s what your bad therapist, who was manipulative in her own right and also only saw you for one session, didn’t know. Okay?”
Neal let out a shaky breath, and Peter was surprised at the willing show of instability. It warmed him, and after a moment, he realized why: This was the first time since Peter got out of prison that Neal had been truly, willingly vulnerable with him. It didn’t happen often anyway—it was sort of a once every few blue moons occurrence—but Peter took pride in knowing Neal Caffrey was comfortable enough with him to let his guard down ever.
He was glad to know that wasn’t gone. Not entirely. And maybe, if something had been breaking, coming here tonight had been a step towards fixing it.
“Okay,” Neal said, so quietly Peter almost didn’t hear it.
“Okay,” Peter agreed.
“Okay.” And then Neal blinked in that way of his that could, theoretically, mean nothing, but Peter had learned to recognize was a sign that Neal Caffrey was holding back tears.
He hadn’t been okay. This case had taken a toll on him, and Peter didn’t want to think about what might have happened if Elizabeth hadn’t talked him into checking on him. If Neal spent the whole night thinking about how he was probably a sociopath and couldn’t help it, if he started spiraling and deciding he’d never be anything but a criminal…
Well. Hopefully Peter had managed to make that right.
Peter stood, gesturing for Neal to do the same. “Come here,” he said quietly, and then pulled him into a hug, not missing the way Neal embraced him tighter than usual, feeling almost like he was clutching onto him for dear life, as opposed to his normal loose, light hugs, which were a rarity in their own right.
“You’re a good person, Neal,” he said, because it needed to be said and he didn’t think he said it enough. Neal was, at his core, fundamentally good. He wasn’t a bad person who was trying on doing the right thing. He was a good person whose life had spiraled out of control and who had built a life out of taking that control back and weaponizing it against others. For all the massive headaches he got from never knowing his C.I.’s motives and constantly feeling suspicious, he always believed Neal was a good person.
He needed Neal to know he thought that.
Neal didn’t say anything else, probably because of those tears he couldn’t fool Peter into thinking weren’t filling his eyes. But that was okay.
The important things had, finally, been said.