This is my first attempt at White Collar fic. The story has no beta, so all errors are mine and mine alone.
As always, the characters are the sole creation of Jeff Eastin and property of USA Network. The inspiration for this one-shot comes from both a love of history and an endless, ongoing romance with intelligent writing. A tip of the cap (or in this case, a tap of the keyboard) to the team that brings us smart, escapist television every Tuesday at 10pm.
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Neal propped his head against the window of the Taurus, alone with his thoughts for the better part of an hour amidst the blaring of car horns and the soft tap of rain. A storm had followed them back to Manhattan, the tranquil blue sky replaced with a grey winter hue that matched Peter's mood as the miles and minutes ticked by.
"C'mon! It's just a little rain!" he yelled at the stalled traffic crawling toward the city, red brake lights dotting the landscape. "Drive or get the hell out of the way!"
Neal chuckled, drawing a glare from Peter he could feel without turning toward him. "You know you're awfully grumpy considering we just caught the bad guys."
Peter sighed, resigned to sit through another green arrow as a large tractor trailer idled slowly in the turn lane.
"We've been working all weekend -- and tomorrow? Tomorrow we will spend all day doing paperwork. Duplicates and triplicates of 515 forms until you see them in your sleep. So tonight? Tonight I would simply like to go home and enjoy a nice quiet evening with my wife."
"Well if you're dropping me off, June's house is that way," Neal offered, pointing to the right. But this time it was Peter who gave a soft laugh.
"What?"
"Now I know where your head's been for an hour," Peter mused. "Nice try, Plato, but there's a U.S. Marshall meeting us at my place to put your tracker back on. Then you can go anywhere you want – within your two-mile radius, of course."
Neal smirked. "From Crazy Eight to Plato all in one day, huh? I never knew you were a fan of ancient Greek philosophers."
Peter grinned. "You ever hear of the Ring of Gyges?"
"The mythical artifact mentioned in Book 2 of Plato's The Republic?" Neal asked. "I believe it granted its owner the power to become invisible at will."
"And through the story of the ring, it discussed whether a typical person would be moral if he did not fear the consequences of his actions," Peter continued.
"So you're saying…"
"Neal, what you did today a lot of trained FBI agents wouldn't have done," Peter interrupted. "You trusted your instincts and responded in a way that was proactive to the investigation. Hell, you practically saved my life and now I'm about to send you home with a GPS unit chaffed to your leg. Again."
"My ring of Gyges?" Neal mused. "Except even when I'm invisible you can see everything I'm doing."
He then paused, momentarily. "You could leave it off, you know. As a small little token of your appreciation." The conman punctuated the last statement with a flashy grin, playing to the older man's sympathies.
"I wouldn't if I could," Peter told him, his voice stern as he kept his eyes on the road. "BUT – I can talk to Hughes about having your radius extended."
Neal's eyes lit up, "Seriously?"
Peter nodded. "Seriously."
"But you don't think…"
"Plato's older brother argued that when sanction is removed, moral character would evaporate," Peter offered. " Smart guy, that Glaucon."
"You still don't trust me."
"Every day is a stepping stone," Peter answered. "Let's just say you took a big step today."
"And if I get you that music box?"
Peter shook his head as a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "One thing at a time, Caffrey. One thing at a time."