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sheenianniTitle: (Meet Me) At the Crossroads (Epilogue)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sheenianni
Artist:aragarna
Fandom: White Collar
Notes: See Prologue
EPILOGUE
Two days later
Standing in front of a foreign apartment, Peter struggles with his impatience. If this doesn’t work, if he shows their hand for no reason…
Suddenly, the door opens. “May I help you?” asks Angela Santano.
Peter smiles at her. “Mrs. Santano. My name is Peter Burke. May I come in for a moment?” He flashes his badge at her but makes sure it stays hidden from the outside view.
Peter sees as Angela freezes for a second before relaxing. “Sure. Come in, Mr. Burke.”
Which means she probably isn’t keeping her forging tools in plain sight, even if it would make Peter’s life that much simpler…
But that’s not the plan tonight.
He still doesn’t like that he has been forced to come here. Unfortunately, with Organized Crime involved, they’re on a clock, and after Santano didn’t show up at the club last night, they need a different way to solve their case – and fast.
It was Kate who came up with this solution two nights ago, and while it certainly wasn’t the best plan he has ever heard, right now, it’s the best they have – if Peter can make it work.
“So, I’m not sure why you’re here. How can I help you, Agent Burke?” asks him Angela after he declines a cup of coffee and they both sit down in the living room.
“Organized Crime is making a case against the Irish mob,” says Peter. He pulls out a small stack of photos. “We know you made fake IDs for these three men.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do,” replies Peter calmly. “You’ve been arrested a couple of times, but you’re smart enough that we never got enough to file charges.”
Angela stands up. “I’m calling my lawyer,” she snaps, obviously upset.
“I’m not here to arrest you today,” says Peter loudly as she dials a number. “All I want are the names of the false identities you made.”
“Yeah, right.”
Peter really hates playing his next card. “Your husband is more than willing to testify against you. You’re in the middle of a divorce and a custody hearing. How do you think it will look if the FBI brings you in on forgery charges?”
“How dare you!”
“Full immunity in exchange for those names,” says Peter. “I think that’s a pretty good deal.”
Angela frowns at him. “Even if I supposedly made those IDs, how do I know these mob guys won’t come after me if I talk to you?”
“We’ll keep your name out of this. They’ll never find out.” Peter makes a pause. “So, will you give me the names…?”
* * *
It has been almost two days since their confrontation in the dark alley and the subsequent events. Yesterday it didn’t seem that Peter wanted to talk to him, and so Neal just tiptoed around his handler and friend and waited for him to make the first move. However, today has been even longer and more awkward, and so Neal feels both dread and relief when he recognizes the familiar knocking on the door to his apartment.
He puts down his paintbrush, wipes his fingers into a piece of cloth and then opens the door.
“Hello, Neal,” says Peter neutrally.
He puts on a smile. “Peter. Come in.”
“I don’t recognize this. What painting is that?” asks Peter curiously as he notices the canvas in the middle of the room.
“Actually, it’s a Caffrey original,” says Neal as he rummages through the fridge in a vain attempt to keep his hands busy. “You want a beer?”
“Nice. And sure, why not,” Peter answers.
Good start.
Hiding his nerves, Neal puts a glass and the beer on the table before he moves to pick a bottle from his wine collection. “So, how did it go with Angela?” he asks, still not facing Peter.
Peter sighs. “She gave me the names, eventually. I also don’t think she’ll be doing any more forgeries anytime soon…”
“So it’s a win,” says Neal with a smile as he turns around and brings his own bottle and wine glass.
“Not really,” says Peter with a frown. “It’s a compromise; one I wouldn’t have made if I didn’t know it would help Organized Crime with their case. We need to do better on our next one. This just came in from Midtown mutual.” He hands Neal a white business card.
“The Architect?” asks Neal curiously as he reads the black print.
“A case that will be waiting for us, starting tomorrow.”
The Architect was a nickname of one of the best bank thieves that Neal has ever heard of. For a moment he forgets about the tension between them and just feels the familiar rush and excitement as he thinks of going after the infamous criminal. “Peter–”
“We need to talk,” says Peter grimly and finally takes his seat.
Neal’s stomach makes a flip. Of course. “What do you want to know?” he asks softly as he takes the opposite chair.
“Why don’t you start with how you managed to slip your tracker?”
And that’s it.
If he tells the truth, then he will lose the only way that allows him to see Kate. And yet Neal knows he can’t lie to Peter, not now after all that transpired between them.
“Neal…” says Peter warningly.
“Mozzie built a jammer for the anklet,” answers Neal hollowly. He walks to his hiding place, opens the secret compartment and pulls out the jamming device; then he returns back to the kitchen table and puts the small box it in front of Peter.
“Mozzie built this? How does it work?” asks Peter curiously.
“I’m not really sure about the technical details. All I know is that it transmits the signal instead of the real tracker,” Neal explains.
Peter nods his head thoughtfully. “I assume you didn’t have this before?”
“No, Moz only got it working this past month.”
“I see.”
The jammer is sitting at the table in between them. Neal wonders what Peter wants to do with it – break it? Take it with him, or turn it over to the Marshals? The last option is probably off the table, as the Marshals would want to know how the box came to being, and Neal doesn’t think Peter would give him up. That, at least, is some comfort.
He hasn’t even visited Kate yesterday night, not wanting to push Peter when he was on thin enough ice already. The prospect of not seeing her again for weeks or months is devastating; knowing that he can’t be there for her when she’s still recovering is just a twist of the knife. Maybe Peter will allow him an exception every now and then; or maybe once Kate has fully healed, they could meet sometimes within his radius… If they can bring Adler in, Kate will be free and safe and then maybe they will be able to plan their future.
He almost misses Peter’s next question. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked, how did you get the gun?”
Neal tilts his head.
“Of course, Mozzie again,” says Peter with a sigh. “Forget the fact that you’re not even allowed to carry firearms – how did you figure getting a gun was in any way a good idea?”
“Adler tried to murder me and Kate. I thought I’d rather be prepared in case he tried again.” Neal pauses. “Someone’s been following me around.”
“What? And why didn’t you tell me?”
Neal opens his mouth to say he’s been protecting Kate… and then closes it again, because he could have told Peter, even without revealing the truth of Kate’s survival. “I don’t know.”
“Do you know who it was?”
Neal shakes his head. “I didn’t get a look on his face… I don’t know, maybe I’m just imagining things.”
Peter frowns at him. “How are you really holding up?”
“I’m fine–”
“Neal, don’t lie to me. Be honest.”
He hesitates. “The first few days, me and Moz exchanged these coded texts to remind me that it was real. I used to dream that I’m at that airstrip and watching the plane explode. Usually Kate is on it, but sometimes it’s Mozzie or you…”
He doesn’t want to talk about the rest of it, like the flashbacks and nightmares at prison when he could almost feel his body burning. He takes a sip of his wine and stares at the tips of his fingers around the glass.
“And now?” asks Peter.
“I’m better,” Neal answers. It’s not a complete lie, anyway.
Peter nods and smiles at him. “Good. That’s… good.”
Except the smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and he’s toying with his beer and everything about the moment feels wrong.
“We’re not okay, are we?” asks Neal subduedly.
Peter tightens his grip on the glass. “I understand that you wanted to protect Kate–”
“But I broke your trust. I lied to you, I hurt you in the process and you have every right to be mad–”
“You’re damn right I’m mad!”
Neal shies back at Peter’s sudden explosion. Mesmerized and intimidated, he watches as Peter starts pacing across the room.
“Yes, you betrayed my trust. I thought you were grieving, I thought Kate was dead, and you know what? Every day you looked me in the eye and lied to me. The whole time, you were going behind my back, meeting with Kate and plotting to run. And that’s not even the worst of it.”
“Peter–”
“You were going to stage your death. You were actually going to make me believe that you were dead. After Kate, after all we’ve been through – how could you?”
Shit.
Seeing Peter’s heartbroken expression is like a punch in the gut.
Neal has known that his ‘death’ would hurt Peter… but he hadn’t known. He has become so wrapped up and obsessed with Kate’s safety that never really realized how deeply his actions would hurt his friend.
It makes him sick.
“I didn’t realize…” he says weakly.
“Well, you should have!” Peter snaps at him. “You could have come to me, we could have worked on this together from the start–”
“And how was I supposed to know that?” exclaims Neal. “You told me not to look for Kate!”
“You were a CI in my custody–”
“You thought she wasn’t in danger; that I was just pining over the girl who got away – did you even consider that I might be right? Did you check?” Neal realizes his hands are shaking. “So tell me, how was I supposed to know that I could come to you?”
“You would do it all over again, wouldn’t you?” says Peter in realization. “You wouldn’t change anything.”
“No, I would–”
“Don’t lie to me–”
“I would, knowing what I know now,” Neal stresses out.
Peter shakes his head. “You could have trusted me–”
“–the same way you trusted me about having the music box and about Fowler’s mysterious meeting?” asks Neal rhetorically.
“I was trying to protect you,” says Peter.
“It was about Kate. You said we were going to do it together… You didn’t have the right.”
It strikes Neal as ironic that Peter did essentially the same thing as he did with Kate and Copenhagen – same as Neal, Peter simply assumed he knew better and didn’t give him a choice.
There is a moment of silence between them.
“Do you blame me from stopping you from stepping on that plane?” asks Peter at last.
“No–”
“I went over it, you know. If I didn’t show up, you and Kate could have been gone by now. She may never have gotten hurt.”
“Or it was always a trap. I don’t think Adler would have left us live after he had the box. Or maybe after he discovered that Kate decided to escape him by using those explosives, we simply became loose ends. You might have saved our lives.”
Peter clears his throat. “In that case, I’m glad I got there in time.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
As they stand by the kitchen table, Neal notices Peter’s bottle is empty and wordlessly offers him another beer. He then pours himself one more glass of wine and slips back into his seat. Opposite him, Peter follows his example and takes the second chair.
They’ve argued and even yelled at each other. Now they have to figure out where do they go from here.
* * *
“This thing we’re doing, it’s not working.”
Peter notices the brief flash of panic in Neal’s face before he hides it behind a mask of calm. “What do you mean?”
“This. The lies, the cons, hiding things…” Peter takes a gulp from his glass. “I’m your handler and your friend, and you have split loyalties too.”
“Peter–”
“We’re messing this up.”
Silence.
“So what do you propose?” asks Neal at last, his voice tightly controlled.
Damned if he knows.
But suddenly Peter has a vision of him and Neal doing this same dance over and over again – the trust issues, the lies, the breaking and making up – and the way it ends is bleak, with jail, ruined careers or worse. Something has to change, but what?
There are many roads to choose from, but only some will bring both of them home safely.
“Do you think we could trust each other?” he asks Neal.
Neal smiles at him. “Of course, Peter–”
“Stop it,” because it’s a con smile, and he wants more for them. Not something that’s never quite real.
Peter stares at the box on the table. “I could let you keep this.”
Neal blinks. “Sorry, you were saying?”
“The anklet jammer. You wouldn’t have to go behind my back to see Kate.” Peter picks the box up and looks at Neal. “Do you think I could trust you with this?”
“Peter…?”
“There would be rules of course,” says Peter, still watching Neal’s expression. “For example, if I ever catch you using it for any other purpose than to visit Kate, I’m putting you back in prison. I won’t ask if you were casing the Met or simply buying donuts – you don’t use it, period. And I need you rested at work, so no more than one worknight a week and only if we don’t have a big case.” Peter takes a deep breath. “And you’re going to be honest with me. We’ll work together on catching Adler, but if you hide things from me–”
“You’re serious?” asks Neal hoarsely.
Is he?
“I guess I am.” He almost asks Neal if he agrees to his proposal, but his friend’s expression says it all. For a moment, Peter is hit by doubts – if he’s wrong, if this ends up in a disaster –
He doesn’t get any further as Neal stands up from his chair and pulls him in a bone-crushing hug.
“Thank you,” Neal whispers, trying to blink back tears.
“Can’t breathe–”
The pressure around his chest eases a bit, but otherwise Neal doesn’t show any signs that he would let go of his hug anytime soon. At last, Peter allows himself to relax as he awkwardly pats Neal’s back.
Some time later, he wrestles himself out of Neal’s embrace and then stares at him seriously. “I meant all that, Neal.”
“I won’t let you down.”
“If anything happens–”
“Peter, I won’t let you down.”
Seeing Neal’s determination, Peter can only nod.
Whatever doubts he has, there is now no turning back.
* * *
Three days later at Mozzie’s safehouse, Neal, Peter, Mozzie and Kate watch as Diana pulls the music box out of her bag.
“So far, we had it X-rayed, but we didn’t find anything that would make it so valuable.”
“We can crack it,” says Mozzie thoughtfully.
Neal squeezes Kate’s hand before he exchanges a smile with Peter.
It’s time to bring Vincent Adler to justice.
THE END
Author:
sheenianniArtist:
aragarnaFandom: White Collar
Notes: See Prologue
___________________________________
EPILOGUE
Two days later
Standing in front of a foreign apartment, Peter struggles with his impatience. If this doesn’t work, if he shows their hand for no reason…
Suddenly, the door opens. “May I help you?” asks Angela Santano.
Peter smiles at her. “Mrs. Santano. My name is Peter Burke. May I come in for a moment?” He flashes his badge at her but makes sure it stays hidden from the outside view.
Peter sees as Angela freezes for a second before relaxing. “Sure. Come in, Mr. Burke.”
Which means she probably isn’t keeping her forging tools in plain sight, even if it would make Peter’s life that much simpler…
But that’s not the plan tonight.
He still doesn’t like that he has been forced to come here. Unfortunately, with Organized Crime involved, they’re on a clock, and after Santano didn’t show up at the club last night, they need a different way to solve their case – and fast.
It was Kate who came up with this solution two nights ago, and while it certainly wasn’t the best plan he has ever heard, right now, it’s the best they have – if Peter can make it work.
“So, I’m not sure why you’re here. How can I help you, Agent Burke?” asks him Angela after he declines a cup of coffee and they both sit down in the living room.
“Organized Crime is making a case against the Irish mob,” says Peter. He pulls out a small stack of photos. “We know you made fake IDs for these three men.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do,” replies Peter calmly. “You’ve been arrested a couple of times, but you’re smart enough that we never got enough to file charges.”
Angela stands up. “I’m calling my lawyer,” she snaps, obviously upset.
“I’m not here to arrest you today,” says Peter loudly as she dials a number. “All I want are the names of the false identities you made.”
“Yeah, right.”
Peter really hates playing his next card. “Your husband is more than willing to testify against you. You’re in the middle of a divorce and a custody hearing. How do you think it will look if the FBI brings you in on forgery charges?”
“How dare you!”
“Full immunity in exchange for those names,” says Peter. “I think that’s a pretty good deal.”
Angela frowns at him. “Even if I supposedly made those IDs, how do I know these mob guys won’t come after me if I talk to you?”
“We’ll keep your name out of this. They’ll never find out.” Peter makes a pause. “So, will you give me the names…?”
It has been almost two days since their confrontation in the dark alley and the subsequent events. Yesterday it didn’t seem that Peter wanted to talk to him, and so Neal just tiptoed around his handler and friend and waited for him to make the first move. However, today has been even longer and more awkward, and so Neal feels both dread and relief when he recognizes the familiar knocking on the door to his apartment.
He puts down his paintbrush, wipes his fingers into a piece of cloth and then opens the door.
“Hello, Neal,” says Peter neutrally.
He puts on a smile. “Peter. Come in.”
“I don’t recognize this. What painting is that?” asks Peter curiously as he notices the canvas in the middle of the room.
“Actually, it’s a Caffrey original,” says Neal as he rummages through the fridge in a vain attempt to keep his hands busy. “You want a beer?”
“Nice. And sure, why not,” Peter answers.
Good start.
Hiding his nerves, Neal puts a glass and the beer on the table before he moves to pick a bottle from his wine collection. “So, how did it go with Angela?” he asks, still not facing Peter.
Peter sighs. “She gave me the names, eventually. I also don’t think she’ll be doing any more forgeries anytime soon…”
“So it’s a win,” says Neal with a smile as he turns around and brings his own bottle and wine glass.
“Not really,” says Peter with a frown. “It’s a compromise; one I wouldn’t have made if I didn’t know it would help Organized Crime with their case. We need to do better on our next one. This just came in from Midtown mutual.” He hands Neal a white business card.
“The Architect?” asks Neal curiously as he reads the black print.
“A case that will be waiting for us, starting tomorrow.”
The Architect was a nickname of one of the best bank thieves that Neal has ever heard of. For a moment he forgets about the tension between them and just feels the familiar rush and excitement as he thinks of going after the infamous criminal. “Peter–”
“We need to talk,” says Peter grimly and finally takes his seat.
Neal’s stomach makes a flip. Of course. “What do you want to know?” he asks softly as he takes the opposite chair.
“Why don’t you start with how you managed to slip your tracker?”
And that’s it.
If he tells the truth, then he will lose the only way that allows him to see Kate. And yet Neal knows he can’t lie to Peter, not now after all that transpired between them.
“Neal…” says Peter warningly.
“Mozzie built a jammer for the anklet,” answers Neal hollowly. He walks to his hiding place, opens the secret compartment and pulls out the jamming device; then he returns back to the kitchen table and puts the small box it in front of Peter.
“Mozzie built this? How does it work?” asks Peter curiously.
“I’m not really sure about the technical details. All I know is that it transmits the signal instead of the real tracker,” Neal explains.
Peter nods his head thoughtfully. “I assume you didn’t have this before?”
“No, Moz only got it working this past month.”
“I see.”
The jammer is sitting at the table in between them. Neal wonders what Peter wants to do with it – break it? Take it with him, or turn it over to the Marshals? The last option is probably off the table, as the Marshals would want to know how the box came to being, and Neal doesn’t think Peter would give him up. That, at least, is some comfort.
He hasn’t even visited Kate yesterday night, not wanting to push Peter when he was on thin enough ice already. The prospect of not seeing her again for weeks or months is devastating; knowing that he can’t be there for her when she’s still recovering is just a twist of the knife. Maybe Peter will allow him an exception every now and then; or maybe once Kate has fully healed, they could meet sometimes within his radius… If they can bring Adler in, Kate will be free and safe and then maybe they will be able to plan their future.
He almost misses Peter’s next question. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked, how did you get the gun?”
Neal tilts his head.
“Of course, Mozzie again,” says Peter with a sigh. “Forget the fact that you’re not even allowed to carry firearms – how did you figure getting a gun was in any way a good idea?”
“Adler tried to murder me and Kate. I thought I’d rather be prepared in case he tried again.” Neal pauses. “Someone’s been following me around.”
“What? And why didn’t you tell me?”
Neal opens his mouth to say he’s been protecting Kate… and then closes it again, because he could have told Peter, even without revealing the truth of Kate’s survival. “I don’t know.”
“Do you know who it was?”
Neal shakes his head. “I didn’t get a look on his face… I don’t know, maybe I’m just imagining things.”
Peter frowns at him. “How are you really holding up?”
“I’m fine–”
“Neal, don’t lie to me. Be honest.”
He hesitates. “The first few days, me and Moz exchanged these coded texts to remind me that it was real. I used to dream that I’m at that airstrip and watching the plane explode. Usually Kate is on it, but sometimes it’s Mozzie or you…”
He doesn’t want to talk about the rest of it, like the flashbacks and nightmares at prison when he could almost feel his body burning. He takes a sip of his wine and stares at the tips of his fingers around the glass.
“And now?” asks Peter.
“I’m better,” Neal answers. It’s not a complete lie, anyway.
Peter nods and smiles at him. “Good. That’s… good.”
Except the smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and he’s toying with his beer and everything about the moment feels wrong.
“We’re not okay, are we?” asks Neal subduedly.
Peter tightens his grip on the glass. “I understand that you wanted to protect Kate–”
“But I broke your trust. I lied to you, I hurt you in the process and you have every right to be mad–”
“You’re damn right I’m mad!”
Neal shies back at Peter’s sudden explosion. Mesmerized and intimidated, he watches as Peter starts pacing across the room.
“Yes, you betrayed my trust. I thought you were grieving, I thought Kate was dead, and you know what? Every day you looked me in the eye and lied to me. The whole time, you were going behind my back, meeting with Kate and plotting to run. And that’s not even the worst of it.”
“Peter–”
“You were going to stage your death. You were actually going to make me believe that you were dead. After Kate, after all we’ve been through – how could you?”
Shit.
Seeing Peter’s heartbroken expression is like a punch in the gut.
Neal has known that his ‘death’ would hurt Peter… but he hadn’t known. He has become so wrapped up and obsessed with Kate’s safety that never really realized how deeply his actions would hurt his friend.
It makes him sick.
“I didn’t realize…” he says weakly.
“Well, you should have!” Peter snaps at him. “You could have come to me, we could have worked on this together from the start–”
“And how was I supposed to know that?” exclaims Neal. “You told me not to look for Kate!”
“You were a CI in my custody–”
“You thought she wasn’t in danger; that I was just pining over the girl who got away – did you even consider that I might be right? Did you check?” Neal realizes his hands are shaking. “So tell me, how was I supposed to know that I could come to you?”
“You would do it all over again, wouldn’t you?” says Peter in realization. “You wouldn’t change anything.”
“No, I would–”
“Don’t lie to me–”
“I would, knowing what I know now,” Neal stresses out.
Peter shakes his head. “You could have trusted me–”
“–the same way you trusted me about having the music box and about Fowler’s mysterious meeting?” asks Neal rhetorically.
“I was trying to protect you,” says Peter.
“It was about Kate. You said we were going to do it together… You didn’t have the right.”
It strikes Neal as ironic that Peter did essentially the same thing as he did with Kate and Copenhagen – same as Neal, Peter simply assumed he knew better and didn’t give him a choice.
There is a moment of silence between them.
“Do you blame me from stopping you from stepping on that plane?” asks Peter at last.
“No–”
“I went over it, you know. If I didn’t show up, you and Kate could have been gone by now. She may never have gotten hurt.”
“Or it was always a trap. I don’t think Adler would have left us live after he had the box. Or maybe after he discovered that Kate decided to escape him by using those explosives, we simply became loose ends. You might have saved our lives.”
Peter clears his throat. “In that case, I’m glad I got there in time.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
As they stand by the kitchen table, Neal notices Peter’s bottle is empty and wordlessly offers him another beer. He then pours himself one more glass of wine and slips back into his seat. Opposite him, Peter follows his example and takes the second chair.
They’ve argued and even yelled at each other. Now they have to figure out where do they go from here.
“This thing we’re doing, it’s not working.”
Peter notices the brief flash of panic in Neal’s face before he hides it behind a mask of calm. “What do you mean?”
“This. The lies, the cons, hiding things…” Peter takes a gulp from his glass. “I’m your handler and your friend, and you have split loyalties too.”
“Peter–”
“We’re messing this up.”
Silence.
“So what do you propose?” asks Neal at last, his voice tightly controlled.
Damned if he knows.
But suddenly Peter has a vision of him and Neal doing this same dance over and over again – the trust issues, the lies, the breaking and making up – and the way it ends is bleak, with jail, ruined careers or worse. Something has to change, but what?
There are many roads to choose from, but only some will bring both of them home safely.
“Do you think we could trust each other?” he asks Neal.
Neal smiles at him. “Of course, Peter–”
“Stop it,” because it’s a con smile, and he wants more for them. Not something that’s never quite real.
Peter stares at the box on the table. “I could let you keep this.”
Neal blinks. “Sorry, you were saying?”
“The anklet jammer. You wouldn’t have to go behind my back to see Kate.” Peter picks the box up and looks at Neal. “Do you think I could trust you with this?”
“Peter…?”
“There would be rules of course,” says Peter, still watching Neal’s expression. “For example, if I ever catch you using it for any other purpose than to visit Kate, I’m putting you back in prison. I won’t ask if you were casing the Met or simply buying donuts – you don’t use it, period. And I need you rested at work, so no more than one worknight a week and only if we don’t have a big case.” Peter takes a deep breath. “And you’re going to be honest with me. We’ll work together on catching Adler, but if you hide things from me–”
“You’re serious?” asks Neal hoarsely.
Is he?
“I guess I am.” He almost asks Neal if he agrees to his proposal, but his friend’s expression says it all. For a moment, Peter is hit by doubts – if he’s wrong, if this ends up in a disaster –
He doesn’t get any further as Neal stands up from his chair and pulls him in a bone-crushing hug.
“Thank you,” Neal whispers, trying to blink back tears.
“Can’t breathe–”
The pressure around his chest eases a bit, but otherwise Neal doesn’t show any signs that he would let go of his hug anytime soon. At last, Peter allows himself to relax as he awkwardly pats Neal’s back.
Some time later, he wrestles himself out of Neal’s embrace and then stares at him seriously. “I meant all that, Neal.”
“I won’t let you down.”
“If anything happens–”
“Peter, I won’t let you down.”
Seeing Neal’s determination, Peter can only nod.
Whatever doubts he has, there is now no turning back.
Three days later at Mozzie’s safehouse, Neal, Peter, Mozzie and Kate watch as Diana pulls the music box out of her bag.
“So far, we had it X-rayed, but we didn’t find anything that would make it so valuable.”
“We can crack it,” says Mozzie thoughtfully.
Neal squeezes Kate’s hand before he exchanges a smile with Peter.
It’s time to bring Vincent Adler to justice.
