Author:
Rating: NC-17 / OT3
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairings: Elizabeth/Peter/Neal
Spoilers: OOTB
Warnings/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~ 1250
Summary: Eight Clauses That Define Their Relationship – The Stages of Grief Are Not Orderly
Author’s Notes:
Because I can’t help but link my fics together, just about each one of the segments references something I’ve written in one or more of my previously written stories. I note this just so you don’t think I’m repeating myself accidently. This part refers to Privilege – Part III, How We Fit Together, and Head Play
I - We the People
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When she realizes how Peter feels about Neal, and how Neal feels about Peter (even if they didn’t quite realize it themselves), she’s neither jealous nor threatened. Rather, her interior life is turned inside out, and she spends far too much time trying to get those men to the sticking point. Then her whole world goes upside down in the days and weeks after Neal tries to leave and Peter nearly goes insane from grief and guilt. When he finally tells her of his desires and she shocked him to the core with her own confession, something happened to the two of them. A million flowery analogies can’t begin describe the way their relationship strengthened in that moment, even if Neal never becomes the part of their lives that they both hope for.
It really shouldn’t have been possible, in light of conventional morality, but fuck conventional morality.
The night in March that she gives Neal a piece of her mind is another turning point. Even though Elizabeth knows it won’t be easy, and it will take time, everything she longs for is within reach. Over the next two months she and Neal talk about the problems inherent in the type of relationship they are contemplating, she talks with Peter about what her expectations are, and she hopes that Peter and Neal try to talk…idiot men. It’ll be a miracle if they don’t screw it up before they get to, well, screw.
Something finally does happens on Memorial Day – they all get a little bit drunk and next thing she knows, clothes are flying, Neal is between her thighs, his mouth on her breasts, her neck, her lips, and she comes just from seeing Peter behind Neal, kissing and biting him. Bless her own taste for sodomy, because she doesn’t have to disengage to get lube for them. (She keeps a bottle is conveniently hidden under the couch cushions).
A little less than two month later, she’s got Neal’s head between her thighs, licking and nibbling and driving her insane. Peter’s behind him - like it was that first time, his thrusts pushing Neal’s face hard against her. She’s already come twice and can feel the third one building. Peter’s driving into Neal like a piece of heavy machinery, and the blade of Neal’s nose keeps hitting her clit at the perfect angle. Peter comes in a hard grunt and so does Neal, and she follows an instant later.
As she catches her breath, she watches Peter grab Neal by the hair and pull him out from her cunt. He devours Neal in a kiss, and says the unthinkable “Tell me you know she’s not Kate.”
There is a brief moment when no one moves, no one breathes. Then Neal explodes in a rage, screaming at Peter. “You fucking bastard. How dare you. HOW DARE YOU. Kate’s dead -- don’t you think I know that? I’m fucking your wife -- not Kate. I’m fucking you -- you’re not Kate. Kate’s dead and ashes, you fucking bastard.”
She watches, frozen in horror as Neal starts to punch and hit Peter, who does nothing except try to keep Neal from hurting himself. They crash into the coffee table, sending it flying and she’s jerked out of her stasis. Neal’s flailing and screaming at Peter, beyond even rage now, his fists hitting her husband’s back and stomach, trying to cause as much damage as Peter’s callous words. She has to put a stop to it.
She runs into the kitchen and grabs the pitcher of water from the fridge and dumps it over them, as if they were wild dogs fighting. The cold liquid does its work, and all the fight goes out of Neal. Peter catches him before he collapses and they end up on the floor, Neal in his arms, sobbing. They are soaking wet and Peter’s rocking him back and forth, like a child needing comfort, saying “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” over and over and over again.
Kneeling naked on the damp carpet, she wraps her arms around both of them. “Don’t you think it’s time we talked about this?”
Neal’s breathing is jagged -- like a child who’s been crying hysterically and has finally calmed down. Peter isn’t much better; he’s shuddering, trying to contain his tears. Elizabeth can’t bear it. Her heart is breaking for Neal and for her husband. So much grief, so much pain. Just when you think you’ve gotten over the loss, it just comes back and knocks you down again.
“Neal, look at me.”
He tries to hide his face in Peter’s shoulder, but she’s relentless, like that night four months ago. “Look at me.” She grabs his chin and pulls his face up. “What do you think is going on here? Why do you think we’ve made you part of our lives?”
Neal is confused -- he doesn’t seem to understand her questions. “I know you want me, but I don’t know what you want from me.”
“Neal, I don’t want anything from you -- I love you.”
He looks at her, and she sees fear and anguish and longing in his eyes. “After everything? How? Why?”
“Why would I not love you? Why do I need a reason?”
“Everyone has a reason, everyone wants something. Love isn’t free -- I need to know your price.”
Neal breaks free of Peter’s arms and goes to the couch. She wants to follow him, but Peter holds her back. So she retreats to the circle of her husband’s arms and watches Neal, head in his hands, trying to come to terms with what they’ve told him. Maybe it is too soon to say anything, or maybe they should have said something sooner, but now there was no turning back.
Peter finally spoke up. “There is no price, Neal. Not on our love. We -- I love you. For what you are. For whatever you choose to be. I want you to be the better - the best - person I believe you can be, but if that’s not what you want, I will still love you. What ever choice you make, I will love you.”
He looks up, and even though he’s only a few feet away, Elizabeth feels like the distance can be measured in miles. “I want to believe you – god knows I should. You’ve never lied to me.” He pauses and scrubs his tear-stained face in his hand. “But I don’t know what I feel. I don’t know if I can love you – something inside of me is broken, and sex and companionship is not going to fix it.”
Her husband asks, “Will time?”
“Maybe. I know that I want you, and I want to be part of your lives. That hasn’t changed and I don’t think it ever will. But I can’t say I love you and mean it. I can’t lie. Not now, not to you -- not ever.”
She can live with that, and so can Peter.
GO TO PART III: Establish Justice
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