Rating: R - OT3
Characters: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, Elizabeth Burke, Mozzie
Spoilers: Out of the Box
Warnings/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~2800
Summary: Neal, Elizabeth and Some Very Hard Truths (Plus some Mozzie)
Since then, Mozzie always sleeps on Neal’s couch. This isn’t much different from their arrangement before, but now he does so at the behest of the Suit and Mrs. Suit. They are worried - Mrs. Suit about Neal’s sanity and the Suit about Neal’s safety. Mozzie is, in a word, honored, that they entrust two very important things to him. He would have protected both Neal’s sanity and his safety without their asking - but it feels good that these establishment types recognize his special skills.
But the fourth night in a row that Mozzie is wakened by Neal’s cries of anguish, he realizes that he is in over his head - Neal needs something that he can’t provide. So, after shaking Neal out of his terror and helping him into the shower, he makes the call. To Mrs. Suit.
As the cell phone rings, Mozzie desperately hopes that he isn’t interrupting anything between Neal’s pet FBI agent and his spouse. How embarrassing that would be. But when he thinks about it again...he kind of hopes that he is interrupting them...it would be very embarrassing. But alas, that was not to be. Mrs. Suit has clearly been sound asleep.
“It’s Havisham.”
Mrs. Suit goes from groggy to alert in a second.
“What’s the matter, Moz?”
“It’s Neal...I think he’s cracking up -- and he won’t talk to me. The nightmares are getting worse. Can you or the Suit come over?”
“Peter’s sleeping, finally. Give me about forty-five minutes, and I’ll be there.”
Mozzie hangs up without saying anything more, since there is no need to say anything else.
True to her word, Mrs. Suit (or El as she has asked him to call her on more than one occasion) arrives within the allotted three-quarter hours. Neal is still in the bathroom when she knocks on the door, but comes out just as she is taking off her jacket and making herself comfortable on his bed.
“Moz - what’s going on here?” Neal has put on a fresh tee-shirt and sleep pants - and grabs his robe when he sees the wife.
Mozzie elects a strategic retreat. “Neal - I’ve got to go...need to see a man about some …. stuff.”
“At two in the morning?”
Mozzie doesn’t answer, he just slips out the door and out of June’s house.
Neal doesn’t want her here. She doesn’t belong in his apartment. Nothing is safe anymore. Peter shoots someone. Planes blow up. The woman you thought you loved betrays you in the worst possible way. And your best friend’s wife is sitting on your bed.
“Please go, Elizabeth.”
“No.”
Just that – no. Nothing to soften the blow. And why should there be? He can’t feel the difference between the caress of a fingertip and the punch of a fist. There are no more lies that he can tell himself – no more lies that he can tell anyone. When he looks in the mirror, he expects to see nothing because that is what he is. At least the ache in his chest is a reminder that he’s alive.
Neal turns his back on Elizabeth and stares out onto the terrace, but the darkness outside and the light inside turns the glass into mirrors and he keeps seeing himself, an endless reflection of failure. Failed criminal, failed lover, failed friend.
He stands there for a few minutes, hoping she’ll get the message and go. She doesn’t. He knows what she wants to do, she wants to talk – to make him talk about what happened. Elizabeth is like that, in her own way, just like Peter – trying to fix things, to make them better. But when something is badly broken and there are too many missing pieces, it’s impossible to fix it.
He wishes she’d leave. He’s too weary to put on the mask tonight. The nightmares keep coming and he doesn’t know why. There’s nothing left for him to be frightened of.
“Snap out of it, Neal.”
“What did you say?” Neal can’t believe his ears, and he finally turns around to face Elizabeth.
“You heard me – snap out of it. You’ve been wallowing in your own grief like a pig in a sty for three months. I’m sick of it. Do you think you’re the only one who’s been damaged? The only one who’s been hurt?”
Neal is nauseous. Until this moment, he doesn’t realize how much he has been relying on Elizabeth, her calm strength, to keep him going. This is a loss he might not survive. Her face is set, angry. Neal steps back – he doesn’t want to do this now. But she’s not giving him any alternative. Elizabeth sits on his bed, like a judge, condemning him with the truth.
“Peter is killing himself by inches. During the day, all he thinks about is protecting you from Mentor. At night, he wakes up screaming.”
Neal tries to take a step back, but the doors are shut – and even if he goes outside, he doesn’t think Elizabeth will let him escape so easily.
“Do you want to know what I’ve been waking up to? Peter screaming ‘Neal - get out – the building’s collapsing.’ Every night he’s reliving 9-11, and you’re the star of his own little cinema of terror. And when he’s not sleeping, he lies there like a stranger. I don’t have a husband anymore – he doesn’t touch me, and when I reach for him, he leaves the bed.”
Neal can’t breath. He’s seen how bad Peter looks, he knows it’s his fault – but he doesn’t know what to do. He’s tried apologizing, but Peter cuts him off. He never thought…
“I’m sorry.” Neal swallows convulsively and tries to continue.
She cuts him off. “Sorry doesn’t cut it now. Peter’s risked everything for you. He put his career on the line when he took you on. He’s covered your back– no matter how many times you crossed the line. He’s called you friend, he’s called you partner, he’s trusted you. And you would have just walked away - without saying ‘goodbye’. That takes a very special kind of coldness.”
Neal is devastated. This flaying is not something he ever expects to receive… not from Elizabeth. But she’s right, every word is right. Neal grasps at straws. “How can I fix this?”
Something changes on Elizabeth’s face. Neal thinks he sees something relax, but the expression passes so quickly that he’s not sure.
“Why, Neal. Tell me why? Was what he gave you, what we gave you, so insufficient that you turned your back on us?”
Neal wonders if Peter has ever told her about that last conversation in the hanger.
She waits, Neal swallows and tries to frame his thoughts into words that make sense. “I left – I tried to leave…” Neal sees Elizabeth’s eyes go wide at that last bit, Peter had never told her that he had turned back. He whispers, “Because I wanted what I couldn’t have”
“What did you say?”
Neal screams at Elizabeth “I wanted what I couldn’t have.” He slides down the wall and hides his head against his knees. “Don’t, Elizabeth. Don’t … ” He can’t continue.
Elizabeth is pitiless. “You’re a thief and there’s never been anything that you’ve wanted that you’ve not taken for yourself. Don’t think you can fool me. Don’t lie to me.”
Neal shudders – each word is a body blow.
“Neal – what did you want.”
Neal didn’t answer.
“Tell me.”
He’s been here before. This is cruel beyond measure. He finds himself replaying that conversation. “I can’t tell you.”
“Tell me.” Like Peter, that afternoon, Elizabeth is relentless.
“I can’t. Please.”
“Tell me.” She was implacable.
Neal’s trapped – he can’t turn back the clock and he can’t move forward. Elizabeth blocks him at every turn. “Don’t make me do this, please.” Like a small animal caught in a predator’s gaze, Neal can’t look away when Elizabeth gets off the bed and sits on the floor across from him. She puts her hand on his knee. Her touch burns like a brand.
“Neal – tell me.” She begs now, and Neal can’t resist any longer.
“I … I want you.” He sees her eyes widen…maybe she misunderstands. “I want Peter. I want you and the two of you and everything you have. And if I take that, I’ll destroy you.” The words come out of him in a rush. Neal tries to get up, to get away but Elizabeth has him caught.
Then she demolishes him with two words.
“I know.”
Neal looks at Elizabeth in speechless horror.
With her next words, she rebuilds him. “I’ve known for a while. I’ve seen how you look at Peter.” Elizabeth smiles and Neal is devastated. “And I’ve seen how Peter looks at you.”
Neal goes completely still. He’s not sure he heard Elizabeth correctly.
“Look at me, Neal.”
He can’t. He can’t believe. He can’t hope. There’s nothing but silence and the sound of Elizabeth’s heartbeat, because Neal’s heart has been dead for three months.
“Neal – I’m not blind, and I’m not stupid. But you and my husband apparently are.” Neal finally looks up at Elizabeth.
“Elizabeth – you can’t… No – this is crazy. What are you thinking?” Neal doesn’t know how he got up, but he finds himself on his feet, trying to put as much distance between himself and his best friend’s wife as he possibly can. To get out of the bedroom, at the very least.
Elizabeth gets up, and to Neal’s distress, climbs back onto his bed. Neal is tempted to leave the apartment, to go down to June’s library or the kitchen or outside. But he doesn’t. Something inside him stirs – he needs to see this though. Maybe. Neal licks his lips, his mouth is parched.
“What are you so afraid of, Neal?” Her question was all reasonableness wrapped up in insanity.
“How can you suggest what you are suggesting? The two of you – you are so perfect together.”
She smiles at Neal’s description of her marriage. “We’re not perfect - and you shouldn’t ever think that. We fight and argue, Peter pisses me off and I annoy him. Constantly. We each have disgusting habits that grate on each other’s nerves. You can’t be married for ten years without that – and that’s what makes a marriage work.”
“Even so - why would you want to destroy that?”
“Why would we, Neal – don’t you think our hearts are big enough to make room for you?”
Neal is afraid to move, to breath. “But Peter?” There is a ton of questions weighing on those two words.
Elizabeth smiles – a genuine, even mischievous grin. “It’s really not fair of me to tell you, but Peter’s not quite the straight … arrow… you may think he is.”
She’s clearly chosen her words deliberately and Neal feels a flush starting somewhere in the vicinity of his toes that rapidly climbs past his hairline. Neal doesn’t quite know what is going on with him – an hour ago, he felt dead and used up.
No – no, this isn’t happening. Neal urgently needed to change the subject – or get Elizabeth out of his apartment. “Why are you here? You said that Peter’s having nightmares. Shouldn’t you be home with him?”
“Peter and I are dealing with them.” A rueful expression crossed Elizabeth’s face. “About what I told you before - I probably should have said that until the other night, Peter had closed himself off from me. We’ve finally talked. We’ll be okay.”
Neal feels something ease – a bit of the guilt that he’s been carrying. So much of his anguish is wrapped around what he’s done to Peter, and by extension, to Elizabeth that he takes comfort in Elizabeth’s words.
“Don’t you want to know what we talked about?” Elizabeth was absolutely merciless.
“I can’t say no, can I?” Neal shakes his head, torn between laughter and tears.
“Peter confessed. He thought I’d be shocked. He thought I’d want him to leave.” At Neal’s confused expression, Elizabeth clarifies. “He finally, after all these months, told me that he wants you to be part of us. My husband’s smart – smarter that you, but sometimes he’s as dumb as a post. I’ve been trying to get the two of you together for months.”
At this point, Neal feels – he feels -- like one of those grotesque stretchy doll things that he may have played with once, as a child. He’s being pulled him in all directions at once, and he just hopes that when he’s let go, he’ll snap back into the shape he was meant to be in.
She continues in that merciless fashion. “I figured, if I got you and Peter together, then the next, obvious step would be for the three of us to be together. But the both of you royally fucked it up.”
Neal doesn’t have any words anymore. “How?” Neal thought for a minute. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
Neal sits down on the bed, next to Elizabeth. “So… are you sure about this?”
“Pretty sure. You?”
“Honestly - I don’t know. I feel like the rug’s been pulled out from under me… or that I’ve been pushed out of an airplane…” Neal pauses at the awkwardness of that metaphor. “Without a parachute. The idea of you and Peter and me...it’s damn scary. The logistics alone… Peter and I …” Neal laughs. “I’m talking in ellipses. This could kill his career. I could go back to prison.” There’s a grim edge to his chuckle now.
“If you don’t think it’s worth it, Neal, tell me now.”
Neal looks at Elizabeth, really looks at her. Perhaps for the first time in months. He sees the price of his bad choices paid in the dark circles under her eyes, the lines of strain bracketing her mouth. He touches her face - his thumb rubs the pinch between her eyes, then sweeps across her brow. The touch is intimate, and Neal feels an echo of desire.
“I think I would storm the gates of Heaven if you both wanted me to. Damn the risk, damn the cost.”
Neal wakes up a few hours later. The sun hasn’t broken the horizon, but it’s time to get ready for work. He’s lying, still in his robe, on top of the covers. Elizabeth, still dressed, is between the sheets. They aren’t quite spooning, but somehow, she’s gripping his arm and sucking on his thumb. Neal disregards his first instinct, to yank his hand away, and instead he carefully extracts thumb from mouth and body from bed.
Despite the long shower he took last night, after Mozzie woke him up, Neal takes another - ensuring that the bathroom door latch is locked. He doesn’t doubt for a minute that Elizabeth would interrupt his shower if given the chance. He had brought his clothes in with him, and dresses quickly. When he emerges, he nearly has a heart attack. Peter is sitting on his bed, looking down at his sleeping wife.
“Morning, Neal.” His voice is pitched low, a warning not to wake the sleeping woman.
Neal heads outside, the terrace is chilly in the early March morning. Peter follows and Neal isn’t sure what to do or what to say.
“All we did was talk.”
Peter just smiles, it wasn’t quite the smirk that Neal had become so accustomed to - but it was an expression filled with a lot more warmth than he has seen on Peter’s face in a long time. “She cornered you, didn’t she.”
“Yeah, and she was pretty brutal too.”
The smile blossoms into a full-fledged grin. “You okay?”
“I think so.” This feels like familiar territory to Neal. They’re easing into the old familiar patterns, not saying more than what needs to be said. “Peter -- I’m sorry. For everything.”
Peter nods. “So am I. But we’re good?”
“Yeah.” Neal walks back inside, and Peter’s right behind him, his hand at the small of his back. The old-fashioned gentlemanly courtesy always charms Neal. He ducks his head and smiles.
FIN
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