A tense and obstinate silence hung awkwardly between Neal and Peter in the aftermath of a fifteen minute argument, consisting of Peter championing Neal's guilt, and Neal, his innocence. "I didn't do this Peter. I have never directly lied to you, and I'm not starting now. This is the last time I'm going to say this, I did not do it. If you can't or won't believe that, then that's on you." With that, the angry and upset CI turned and strode quickly out of his handlers office and returned to his own desk and sat upright and uptight at his computer, keeping his eyes purposefully away from Peter's office.
Troubled, Peter watched him without knowing what course of action to take. The kid was lying, lying through his perfectly straight teeth. He was sure of it. He was incensed by it, but most of all, he was hurt by it. Neal hadn't directly lied to him before now, but today was definitely his debutante ball of direct lying and Peter was going to make damn sure, it didn't turn into a matter of habit. Making up his mind in a split second, Peter strode out of his office with equal anger as the previously vacated Neal, and descended the stairs that led to his young CI's desk, stopping in front of it, he leant into Neal's personal space and ordered quietly so that only Neal could hear, "fifth floor, conference room E, with me, now."
Neal looked up in consternation. Conference room E was a room he avoided at all costs. It was a sound insulated, windowless, camera-less room. It was a room that was used by no one else at the office because frankly everyone had forgotten its' existence. Not Peter though, he remembered its' existence and decided much to Neal's dismay that it was the perfect venue for tearing up his backside when Peter so decided it necessary. This venue had been used many more times than Neal cared to remember. Neal's eyes held the familiar pools of pleading when they first met Peter's as he leaned angrily over his desk, but then they clouded over with something the older agent couldn't quite determine and Neal obediently stood and without a word, followed his handler to the perilous fifth floor.
Opening the heavy door of the conference room, Peter directed Neal through it, equally without a word and shut the door quietly, ensuring it was locked and only capable of being opened from the inside. At the centre of the room there was a large oak wooden desk. Peter strode behind it and faced Neal who habitually stood on the other side of it, eyes down facing the floor.
"Neal, I am going to give you one last chance to come clean here. Come clean about robbing that gallery and I will take that into extreme consideration when I consider your punishment. Don't come clean, and I will also take that into extreme consideration. You don't lie to me. Not like this. Please don't start now."
Neal looked up from the floor and simply said "I gave you my answer in response to this question in your office Peter. It hasn't changed and nor will I repeat myself on the matter. You do what you think you need to do."
With that, the younger man returned his gaze to the floor, to the walls, to the plastering pattern, anywhere but his boss. Because that's what he is Neal thought ruefully in the seconds that Peter was appraising him, not my friend, my boss.
Sighing heavily Peter shook his head in disappointment and merely gestured in exasperation for Neal to take up his well rehearsed position over the desk. Waiting to hear the spiel of complaints, Peter was further surprised when Neal failed to even utter a syllable and simply took off his expensive suit jacket, laid it over the chair and bent fully over the desk, with his head leaning on the hard oak surface, deliberately turned away from Peter.
Slightly wrong footed, Peter quickly regained composure and resignedly slipped his heavy leather belt out from his pant loops and, with an equal degree of familiarity, doubled the belt into two, making sure that the heavy belt buckle was securely in his hand. Moving forward, he placed his free hand on the small of Neal's back as he always did. This time Neal did not relax palpably as he was always did as this reassuring touch, to the contrary he stiffened in response to Peter's attempt at comfort. Deciding not to address this, an ever growingly confused Peter drew his arm back in a wide arc and let the first of many stinging blows descend upon his upturned CI's backside.
Swat after searing swat landed on Neal's posterior and to Peter's culminating alarm, the kid never whimpered, pleaded, moved out of position or in any way acknowledged in the manner that he usually did that he was feeling his punishment. Generally, by this point in proceedings the younger man would have promised Peter the moon and the stars to desist with his whipping, threatened to make Elizabeth divorce him and offered him one of a kind baseball tickets, before descending into contrite sobbing.
Taking this non responsive attitude as an indication that he wasn't delivering this lesson severely enough, Peter consciously upped the ante, bringing down the next volley of swats with a force he had never before used on Neal. No response. Peter delivered a last few token swats to Neal's sit spots and moved back, letting Neal know his punishment was over.
Neal correspondingly after a few seconds stood and wiped his arm across his teary eyes. At least he felt something thought Peter surveying the still non responsive man. Threading his belt back through his pants loops, Peter made to move forward as a matter of habit to wrap Neal in the traditional post-punishment forgiving hug. It was something he always did and it made both of them feel better without fail. To his dismay, in response to this Neal purposefully side stepped out of the way of Peter's intended embrace and asked stiffly "if we're done here Sir, may I go? It's finishing time and I promised June to help with the dog tonight."
Staring in wounded confusion at the younger man before him, Peter nodded his consent to Neal's question helplessly. The CI turned without a backwards glance, collected his jacket and left the conference room without another word. Shutting the door behind him quietly, as only he with his flawless manners could. Feeling the weight of Neal's absence Peter realised there was no point waiting in the conference room any longer, and he too strode out the door and returned to his office.
As he flicked through his files Peter couldn't concentrate. This had never happened before. Neal never held a grudge again him for punishing him. He always good naturedly whined about it, with phrases like "cruel and unusual punishment", but he never held a grudge, accepting his sore backside as the price to pay for his many capers and respecting Peter for delivering it. Something was wrong here and for the life of him Peter couldn't figure it out. Letting out a frustrated breath he stood and began to gather his things to head home, maybe El could help him figure out was ailing the kid. She was much better than him with all that feelings stuff. Heading towards the door, he narrowly avoided a head on collision with one breathless Agent Diana Berrigan.
"Diana" Peter exclaimed, taking in the flushed cheeks and agitated demeanour of one of his favourite agents, "what's up?"
"Peter, we got em'. Elijah Browkowski did that gallery over. He was with an accomplice. A novice, first time accomplice who was caught holding up a corner store a few blocks away a couple of hours ago and rolled over on Browkowski for an immunity deal. Boss this is huge! We've been after Browkowski for years, ever since we distinguished his MO from Caffrey's, he's been copy catting Neal for months now, all over Chicago and recently took up trade in New York. Not a bad result for a Wednesday evening is it!"
Peter fought, fought with all his strength to plaster a smile on his face at Diana's words. Offering her a token speech of delight and feigning a headache, Peter made his escape to the elevator, down three flights, into his car and somehow arrived at his front door before he could actually process his own movements. Still in a daze he let himself into his living room and collapsed in a guilt ridden heap upon El's tastefully chosen sofa. Hearing her husband enter, a happy El bounded into the living room to welcome him home and faltered when she saw the look of upset etched into every line on her weary husbands face. "Peter…hon., what is it, what's the matter. Has someone been hurt?" El moved to sit beside Peter, enveloping him in a comforting embrace.
Tearing himself out of his reverie Peter looked up at his wife in anguish. Taking a deep breath he explained to her all about the gallery heist and how it had all the hallmarks of a Caffrey job but how the real suspect had been apprehended and was currently languishing behind bars back at FBI lockup. Looking at her clearly guilt consumed husband in confusion El asked the obvious "what's the matter then" question, a question Peter never wanted to have to answer.
"I whipped him El. I whipped Neal for the heist. I accused him of it, over and over I accused him of it and he denied it, he denied it over and over again. I got so angry because I thought he was lying to my face, so I dragged him to the conference room and I strapped him. I should have known…. I should have known El. He was acting so weird, like he wasn't there. And all I did in response to that was whip him harder. He told me it wasn't him and I all but called him a liar. Oh god El…what have I done" whispered Peter, rubbing his hands over his face in consternation.
Looking at her husband El was momentarily speechless. Taking in his sorrow and regret she held him closer to her. "You made a mistake hon. Yes, you should have believed Neal when he directly told you that it wasn't him. You know Neal doesn't lie to you directly, you know better than that. But you made a mistake, and all you can do now is go to Neal. Tell him how sorry you are. Make it right. It won't be easy, but you owe to him. You know that kid thinks of you as a father, well even the best fathers' screw up and when you do you have to own it. So, go. Go to Neal and make him see that you're sorry. Now."
Planting a light kiss on his wife's cheek Peter immediately stood and made his way to the front door. Turning back towards his wife he communicated a non verbal thank you to her and briskly made his way to his car, his thoughts tumbling over themselves as he strained to figure out how to make things right with Neal. He didn't have much time to think on it, because before he knew it he had pulled up outside June's manor and was knocking on her front door.
A glamorous June answered the door, clearly on her way out to some function or other. "Why Peter" she exclaimed, "its' so good to see you. I must confess, I'm glad you're here, I think there's something wrong with Neal. He came home and he was ever so distant and odd. He's really not himself, perhaps you can perk him right back up."
Not able to bring himself to tell the kind lady that he was the reason for Neal's current state Peter bade June a polite good evening and make his way up to his young charges apartment and quietly knocked on his front door.
Opening the door Neal, dressed in a sweatshirt and flannel pants, looking very un-Neal merely looked at Peter in confusion before finally offering a "Yes Sir?".
Peter acknowledging the stiff greeting sheepishly asked "may I come in Neal". Making no verbal response to this question, Neal simply held the door open wider and Peter quickly stepped in before the younger man could change his mind. Neal closed the door and turned round to face Peter,
"Shall we sit down, I need to tell you something" asked the guilt ridden agent.
Neal merely stared at him indifferently, before replying with an undertone of scathing "I'd rather stand Sir if its all the same, sitting isn't that much of a pleasant experience for me at the moment."
Peter grimaced as he processed that well deserved dig and resolved to apologise before he lost his train of thought blurted out:
"Neal, I'm so sorry. I was wrong. I was so wrong. It was Browkowski, we have him in lock up now. He burglarised that gallery. I should have believed you. You've never lied to me and I was wrong to think you were starting now. I punished you not only in the wrong, but when I was angry. I've never done that before and I promise I never will again. I know my saying all this isn't going to change the fact that I whipped you for no reason or that I didn't believe you for no good reason, but I just needed you to know that I feel god awful and I've never been this ashamed of myself".
An awkward silence, similar to the one that descended in Peter's office hung between the two men once again as Neal surveyed Peter in silence, and where it was Peter's turn to hang his head in shame and observe the floor with great levels of concentration.
Suddenly Neal started across the room and Peter steeled himself for the punch he was sure was about to land on him, he didn't raise his arms in defence, he had no intention of stopping Neal. Peter closed his eyes in apprehension of same, but they flew open in surprise a mere split second later, when instead of the blow he was expecting he felt the heat of Neal's torso against his own, as the younger man pulled him into a tight hug. Recovering from his surprise quickly, Peter returned the hug wholeheartedly.
Pulling away after a moment, Neal looked at Peter and said quietly "it's ok Peter. It's ok, just forget about it, I have".
"How?" Peter whispered in misery, "how could you possibly forgive me for this?"
Neal fixed him with a meaningful gaze before replying "because I want to Peter. Yes you should have believed me, I have never and I would never lie to your face like that, but the evidence against me was overwhelming. Let's just let this be a mistake better forgotten about, ok?"
"I can't Neal. I can't forget about it. I can't believe I've screwed up this badly, I hate punishing you even when you deserve it, punishing you when you didn't isn't something I can forget. I completely understand if you want to be reassigned to a new handler and I promise you'll never have to undergo another discipline session from me again".
"Peter, stop that" said Neal sharply. "You know I don't want a new hander. Was I pissed off and upset that you punished me like that for no reason. Yes, I was. Of course I was. But no one is perfect, not even Burke the Jerk" he finished with a smirk. Neal's joke, which usually would have earned him a glare and a cold case or two, served to shatter the awkwardness that Peter felt and he knew then that he and the kid would be ok. Neal for his part, fished a beer out of the fridge and handed it to Peter with a wine connoisseurs disdain and invited him to stay for a bite to eat.
As they settled down to cold leftover pizza, Neal's speciality, Neal in feeling that Peter's guilt was not quite assuaged enough offered some further salve.
"Peter?" Neal said quietly.
"Yeah buddy?" replied Peter warily concerned the kid may be having second thoughts about forgiving him.
"You know the way you said you hated punishing me even when I deserved it, but especially when I didn't?"
Peter merely nodded his head in sad acknowledgement.
"Well…you know that flooding of the second floor that happened last week. Hughes had a complete meltdown looking for a practical joker, but eventually put it down to archaic piping?"
Peter again nodded his head, torn between a feeling of being nonplussed and a feeling of knowing exactly where this was going…
"Well yeah, that was me. That Agent Hannaway on second is a complete irritation, and my attempt of lightening him up got err.. a bit out of hand. Feel better now?
Seeing the colour of Peters neck start to redden, Neal made a calculated move towards the sanctity of the living room, Peter hot on his heels.
"CAFFREY".
Neal chortled as he ducked away from Peter's attempt to swat him.
Yup, things are back to normal Peter thought as he struggled to retain a straight face whilst beginning his half hearted lecture of the incorrigible brat before him.
That Agent Hannaway was a complete irritation.