Title: The Secret Witness Conspiracy
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: h/c, humor, slash, fluff, silliness
Fandom: White Collar
Pairings: Peter/Neal, Peter/El

NOTE: Sequel to 'The Happy Birthday Conspiracy'. (You don't HAVE to have read 'The Happy Birthday Conspiracy to read this, but it's short and would probably be helpful.)Written for the 'Stockholm Syndrome' square on my H/C Bingo Card for hc_bingo on LJ

"It's impressionist, okay?" Neal said in annoyance as he glared down at the anklet strapped around his leg. "I wasn't painting gum willows; they were plain old Earth trees that happened to be pink! Did you even *look* at the painting before you went and reported me? The damn tree may be pink, but it looks like a lump of broccoli, just like every other tree on this damn planet. I *am* capable of painting bubbles, Lieutenant, and there were definitely no bubbles! How can you have a gum willow with no bubbles?"

"Okay, okay, I believe you," his bitch of a guard said, her voice sounding tinny through the communicator. "You need to keep yourself in line though, Neal. You have less than three planet rotations before you'll be on a spacebus back to Andromeda. Revealing that you're an alien at this point would get a whole 'nother solar rotation, maybe two or three. If you ever want to see glitter grass again, you need to watch your step."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Neal said with a sigh. "Of course, all of this is based on the assumption that His Wonderfulness actually lets me through customs. I swear to the Frolic Gods, I was not the one who knocked up his son!"

"Honestly, Neal, I think he was more upset about the tiara. He really loved that tiara. Intergalactic Guard Module 875, Lieutenant Kate Moreau, signing out."

Neal's tracker beeped and he fell back onto his bed with a sigh. Three planet rotations, huh? Man, the day was coming up fast. He wasn't really sure how he felt about that. Over the past ten years, Neal had acquired a strange affection for this little planet, despite its disturbing heterosexuality and its lack of edible flora. In fact, it had actually started to feel like home.

Sure, he missed tasting sugar on the mountain air as he watched the cities floating up in the sky, laying in a field of the tastyflowers that carpeted their entire planet, but there was something to be said for the gorgeous texture of shining blacktop and the glorious taste of greasy fries. They didn't have grease on Andromeda Dancing Bloom. Despite being the capitol planet of the largest galaxy in the Local Group, the culture was very tight knit and didn't care much for tasting the delicacies of other planets. Or speaking to the people of other planets. Or acknowledging other planets in general.

Neal supposed that his home world was a lot like France.

Grease, however, was surely one of the most palate pleasing things Neal had ever tasted. It was right up there with sugar cream rocks and chocowater. He also kind of liked the taste of pencil shavings, but he'd learned pretty quickly that eating them was some sort of weird human taboo. Humans had a lot of weird taboos, especially concerning when it was and was not appropriate to spin your penis like a helicopter for purposes of entertainment. This meant that at least half of the holy rituals to the Frolic Gods had to be done either in total secrecy or at a gay bar in SoHo.

There was a loud knock on his door and Neal sat up, wondering why anybody would be at his door at this hour on a Saturday morning. It wasn't even five o'clock yet, but since Neal only needed four hours of sleep and two cups of cane sugar to refuel, he was wide awake.

"Come on in," he called out as he stood, grabbing a pair of pajama pants he'd tossed on the floor and yanking them on. Man, he hated pants.

After Neal had been sentenced here, he'd read the tourist guide to Little Salty, as Earth was called on Andromeda. It had contained an extensive section on how to blend in since Little Salty's ruling species had been diagnosed as blind and deaf to aliens, a handicap that the Intergalactic Council of Everystar said must be allowed to heal on its own. The book had been a little sparse in some areas, however, and it had been quite a surprise to Neal that, when it stated that males could go 'half-clothed,' it meant wearing pants with no shirt, not a shirt with no pants.

On his world, it was the women who walked around with no shirts, showing off sugar coated breasts to entice other ladies. Hardly any men wore pants. Why miss such a great opportunity to decorate your manhood with cocoa lilies and have your boyfriend eat them off? Unfortunately, decorating one's genitalia with shiny objects and pretty flora was also an Earth taboo, as Neal had learned on his first week on Salty after being arrested in a coffee shop for public indecency.

The door to the apartment opened just as Neal finished tugging up his pants, revealing a smiling Peter. Damn. He should have left the pants off after all.

"Hey, Neal," Peter called out. "Sorry I'm so early. Couldn't sleep this morning"

"Oh, no problem," Neal said, waving the words away. "I was up anyway. Want to start a pot of coffee?" Ah, coffee, another strange fetish Neal had acquired on Earth. When he'd first arrived, he'd thought it tasted like fidwidget piss, which made sense as fidwidgets actually pooped coffee beans, but it had grown on him and now it was practically an addiction. He would miss it when he went back to Andromeda. Maybe he could buy himself a fidwidget?

"What are you doing up so early?" Peter asked as he moved over to the kitchen area, searching the cabinets for the roast.

"Just thinking," Neal said, moving over to wrap his arms around the bigger man's waist, breathing in that distinct smell of bar soap and cheap cologne and just a tinge of ball musk. If there was anything he would miss, it would be Peter, especially during mating season. Which, on Andromeda, was ninety-nine percent of the year.

"Worrying about the hearing again?" Peter asked, turning his head to give Neal a little peck on the lips.

"Yeah, kind of," Neal said with a sigh. "It's just weird, you know? I've been under lock and key so long… I don't even know what I would do if I was free."

Neal released Peter, moving over to sit and the little table, and Peter followed, giving him a warning look. "Hopefully not become a thief again."

Neal chuckled, but the words hit close to home. What *would* he do back on Andromeda? He'd been the most famous thief on the planet. The Temple of Gogo Where was covered with finger paintings of his face and occasionally his penis, an offering to the Frolic God of Magical Illusion. Everyone knew his name. Hell, they'd made a reality show where young thieves competed o recreate his greatest heists.

Sure, on Andromeda it was only illegal to steal things if you had no intention of revealing your amazing work and returning the stolen item, but after taking the High Magistrate's most precious possession, Neal figured there was zero chance of him becoming a professional thief again. None of the province kings would hire him to prank the other courts if he was on the Magistrate's bad list. He'd have to start taking jobs off the rainbow market, and that was just plain dangerous. The rainbow mobsters were insane. You messed with them and edible flowers weren't the only things they'd bite off your man parts.

"I don't know what I'll do," Neal said, feeling depressed. "I know it's crazy, but I think I'm going to miss this life."

Peter reached out and gently took his hand, squeezing as he stared deep into his eyes, a strange expression on his face that Neal couldn't quite decipher.

"Neal, you're talking like you're going to be gone forever," Peter said quietly, brow wrinkling up a little. "You don't have to disappear. The Bureau could still use your help, and El and I will certainly still be here for you."

Not if he went warp speed ahead back to the alien version of Candyland, they wouldn't.

"Do you believe in Stockholm Syndrome?" Neal asked suddenly, and Peter blinked, looking a little thrown off by the sudden change of topic.

"Um, sure, I suppose. I mean, we're all people, and people relate to one another." He shrugged. "If you spend long enough with someone, you start to empathize with them, whether they are good to you or not." Peter paused. "Do you really think being my friend would count as Stockholm Syndrome? I mean, I didn't exactly trap you in this partnership. You came to me." Peter sounded a little hurt, and Neal's eyes widened.

"No, of course not, Peter! That… that wasn't what I'd meant." No, he'd meant this whole damn planet, that's what he'd meant. God, he really wished that there was someone he could talk to about this other than the bitchy Lieutenant strapped to his ankle.

"So what did you mean?" Peter questioned, still frowning.

"I… I don't know. I guess, well, I had certain expectations for my life, you know?" Neal said, squeezing Peter's hand again. "But things didn't turn out quite like I'd planned, and I ended up where I am now. Years ago, if you'd told me about what I'd be doing today, I would have laughed in your face. I mean, I was, like, con man royalty. Every two bit thief and cheap trickster out there aspired to be me. But now… I sort of like who I am and what I do. The idea of leaving it behind… Well, it actually kind of scares me. It's been so long since I was that other Neal that I don't even know if I want to be him anymore. On the other hand, I'll finally have my freedom again. Shouldn't I take advantage of that and get on with my life?"

"You know, Neal," Peter said quietly, "this may surprise you, but I've run into that dilemma more than once in my life. And do you know what I've learned?"

"What's that?" Neal asked, sort of hoping for a miracle answer.

"I've learned that, in the end, happiness is all that matters, and you can't be truly happy until you figure out who you are and make a commitment to stick to it." Peter sighed. "For years, I jumped from one assignment to another, dragging El all over the place while I went out to fight crime. It was for a good cause, I said. The universe needed me, I thought. But in the end, it never made me happy. So I took this backseat job and made a commitment. Now El and I are the happiest we've ever been. So whatever you decide, make sure it's what you really want, then stick with it. That's the best advice I can offer you."

Neal laughed. "I don't know that I'd call senior agent at the New York FBI office a 'backseat job,' Peter."

The man shrugged ruefully. "Well, it is compared to some of the things I was offered. I could have been that rich accountant, you know."

"With the tiny cups," Neal agreed, smiling.

Peter chuckled and lifted up Neal's hand, fingers playing on his knuckles.

Neal gave him a tight smile. "But, Peter… what if I make the wrong choice?"

Again with that strange expression. Peter stood and leaned forward across the table, planting a kiss on Neal's lips. "Don't worry," he said in a husky voice as he pulled away. "I have faith in you."

THREE DAYS LATER

"I call together this council of the Intergalactic Sentencing Board to examine the case of Trickster Neal Caffrey. Home world, Andromeda Dancing Bloom, capitol planet of the Andromeda Galaxy."

Even through the holophone the Court Keeper looked like a snotty stick in the mud. Oh hell, the entire court looked like snotty stick in the muds, dressed in their conservative lime green unitards and bow ties. Neal recognized the one with glitter in his hair as a fellow citizen of Andromeda, and guy with eyes in the back of his head was obviously a resident of Warwon, but he didn't actually recognize the other three aliens. That wasn't unusual, though, not for one of his people. Andromeda's school systems didn't waste time on learning about *other* planets, not when there were trinkets to steal and cake recipes to memorize. At least they were all humanoid, which was good. Giant birds and tentacled llamas and talking furniture had a harder time empathizing with the 'upright ape' mindset than those with similar brains.

"If you will stand and present yourself to the court, Trickster Caffrey?"

Neal obeyed, the bells he'd tied to his balls jingling happily. Hopefully his fellow bloomer would appreciate his outfit. After all, edible roses didn't grow on trees on this planet, so Neal had spent a lot of time making the bright orange flowers himself out of frosting and fondant. They matched his tight, ab defining t-shirt perfectly. Ah, it was nice to be able to go pantless again.

"You may be seated," the Court Keeper said in a bored voice. Talk about rude, asking Neal to stand and present then not even giving him a catcall. Ms. Manners would be ashamed.

"An overview of the defendant. Species: Bloomer. Gender: Seeding Male. Age: 9 bloomer years, 33 human years. Sentenced to serve fifteen solar rotations on Little Salty, known to residents as Earth, for theft from a nobleman without a valid contract from an opposing royal family and with no intention of returning the item. The great Tiara of Sparkle Bop has never been recovered. Trickster Caffrey has served his entire sentence, including a sentence within a sentence for thieving on Little Salty. Trickster Caffrey's defense for his crimes on Little Salty is that he assumed offering no license to steal on this planet meant anyone was free to thieve rather than all thievery was illegal."

The warwonite made a rude noise and Neal glared in his direction.

"I now present the witnesses. First up, Lieutenant Kate Moreau of the Intergalactic Guard."

First up? Neal's guard was the only witness he had.

The image of the Court Keeper disappeared from the center of the ring of judges, replaced by a hologram of the first female he had ever frolicked with. Or fucked, depending on which planet you were from.

"Lieutenant Moreau, you have overseen Trickster Caffrey's imprisonment for the past ten years. What say you to the recommendation that he be released?"

Neal held his breath as Moreau turned toward him, and his stomach flip flopped as he got a glimpse of her face. She was wearing the exact same look she'd had after the whole Alex Hunter incident. This was not good. Not good at all.

Moreau turned back to the council, face solemn once more. "I would say that while Trickster Caffrey has improved dramatically over the past four years, as his personal guard I do not feel he is rehabilitated enough to return to Andromeda Dancing Bloom."

Wait, what?! Neal's mouth dropped open in disbelief. Was this not the same woman who had been nagging at him not to blow it just a few days ago? And now *she* was the one blowing it for him? What the hell?!

"You female bitch!" Neal shouted as he stood, the bells on his balls accenting his anger nicely. "Don't act like you weren't along for the ride those first six years! You were right there, thieving with me. This is about that damn music box, isn't it? How many times do I have to tell you? I did not steal it from your grandmother!"

"Trickster Caffrey, please take a-"

"You half bloods may not know it, but real bloomers don't steal from old ladies." He put his hands on his hips. "I know you grew up with your father on Warwon, which is probably why you are a total bitch *and* a heterosexual, but on Andromeda the Sacred Gran is the most powerful of all the Frolic Gods!" He glared at her. "It's time to wake up and smell the coffee, Moreau! Grandma has contacts with the rainbow mob and is selling alien items under the table, 'cause I wasn't the one who put that box on this planet!"

"Trickster Caffrey, that is enough!" the judge from Warwon shouted, waving his laser arm in Neal's general direction. "You will not speak that way to a warrior woman of my planet."

"Back off, Brisco," the bloomer next to him snapped. "Sassy's right. No one steals from grannies! It will get you whacked with the Spoon of Pain. If you understood our culture, you would know that."

"I really don't think it matters," a third judge said, tugging lightly at one of the metal spikes growing from her chin. "Lieutenant Moreau has given her statement. Let's move on. It's almost lunchtime, and I brought fried leeches with kidney sauce."

Neal sat back down with a huff, glaring at Kate until her image blinked away. The little traitor.

Talk about an entire week of wasted worry. It didn't matter what Neal wanted to do in the future, now he would have no choice in the matter.

Neal had to blink back the tears rising in his eyes. It was one thing to consider staying on Earth of his own free will, but it was another thing entirely to be trapped here again, his bitch guard strapped to his ankle, dreaming about dancing through glitter grass and eating flowers dripping with honey.

"Now we call our second witness to the stand."

Second witness? Neal's brow furrowed in confusion. He didn't *have* a second witness. What the hell was going on here?

"The Court calls Major Peter Burkenattawallinfocunali of the Spacetime Patrol and his lifemate, Starprincess El Burkenattawallinfocunali, daughter of Starqueen Rach of the planet Fable. Major Peter, you have overseen Trickster Caffrey's rehabilitation for the past four years. What say you and your lifemate to the recommendation that he be released?"

No way. No fucking way. Neal stared in utter disbelief at the sight before him, wondering if someone had hacked the holophone and was pranking him. Why else would Peter be standing right in front of him, not dressed in a conservative suit but in the full body armor of a Spacetime soldier? Neal had to squint a little as he stared, the eco-plating of his armor glowing brightly as it constantly shifted to fit his body like liquid gold. If liquid gold could stop a laser gun to the chest, anyway.

Peter was a Spacetime soldier? How the hell was that possible? And Elizabeth, or just El, Neal guessed, was a fucking Starprincess of Fable? Space royalty? Sure, Fable had a *lot* of queens, but still… Why would a Starprincess be on Earth? El certainly looked royal, wearing a tight dress covered in precious gems of every color and a long bustle made of silky dragon's hide trailing the floor behind her.

Dear God… Was this real? Had Peter and El really been aliens the whole time and Neal never even knew it? How could he have *missed* it? Aliens always showed their true colors sometimes, right? God knew Neal had nearly blown it a many times, his uncanny ability to do, well, anything, causing a lot of questions. But Peter and El just seemed so *human.*

Neal sat back, trying his best to take it all in. On one hand, he was pretty pissed that Peter had never told him. After all, he had obviously known what Neal was. On the other hand, the idea thrilled him. There was someone else on this salty, water waste of a planet that he could actually talk to now! Even if the court decided to extend his sentence, Neal wouldn't be all alone. Peter and El might not be his kind, technically, but they were strangers to this place too, and that was good enough.

Peter stepped forward, giving the panel a sharp salute. "I have spent over twenty Earth years serving as Soldier on Alert for this planet. When I requested the position, many of my comrades mocked and berated me for doing so, because they considered guarding this tiny blind and deaf planet an inconsequential job. I, however, have come to love this place, and have made a home upon it with the Starprincess I call my lifemate."

Peter paused, glancing over at Neal, once again sporting that look in his eyes that Neal couldn't quite decipher.

"Much of my time here was spent chasing Trickster Caffrey. When I was first informed of his imprisonment upon my planet, I was not pleased. I am a child of the planet formerly known as Old West of the deceased star Saloonis, and on my world we respected law and order. In other words, we are pretty much the polar opposite of Andromeda Dancing Bloom's free spirited natives. You can't get much crazier than Andromeda Dancing Bloom, after all."

"Thank you," the bloomer judge said with a bright smile, causing the warwonite judge to glare at him. "I appreciate the compliment."

Peter shot Neal a look, and it was obvious that he was trying not to laugh.

"You're very welcome Judge Flitter," he managed to say with a relatively straight face. "My point is that I expected Trickster Caffrey to be a menace to Little Salty, and I prepared for his arrival by having a sugar cell installed beneath my house."

Neal's eyes widened, mouth dropping open and a shiver of fear running along his spine. Peter had planned to lock him in a sugar cell? Bloomers got their energy from sugar, but too much of it would send them into a lethargic, unresponsive state, very similar to a coma. Sugar cells were the harshest punishment on Andromeda, a cage formed of an organic steel mined from the Fluffy Mountains whose main component was sugar. If it had too much contact with the skin, it would cause a bloomer's body to go into shut down, though the mind would remain awake. Neal swallowed hard. He'd had *no* idea how close he'd come to real hell.

"My fears were quickly proven wrong, however," Peter said. "From the moment he arrived, Trickster Caffrey was forging and conning and stealing, but he never committed a crime that put any human in danger and, therefore, could not be considered an enemy of the planet. As my human identity of Agent Peter Burke, I chased him for his crimes against the human state, a real challenge that I came to enjoy."

El stepped forward, raising up her hands, and the judges respectfully raised theirs in return, an acknowledgement of her royal connections. Neal would have as well, had he not been in a state of total shock. "My lifemate had an entire quarter of our home dedicated simply to catching Neal, but the chase was an act of love. I can vouch for the truth of this since, as you all know, the royalty of Fable cannot make home in any place where there is malice or cruelty."

"She is right," Peter agreed as El stepped back. "It was an act of love and enjoyment. It took me a long time to track him down and, to be honest, if he had not fallen in love with his guard, Lieutenant Moreau, I don't know that I ever would have caught him. Trickster Caffrey then went to a human prison, to serve a sentence for his crimes. Please note that these crimes were not against humanity, but against human law, which is the jurisdiction of the people of Little Salty and does not call for the intrusion of the Spacetime Patrol. After finishing his sentence, Trickster Caffrey moved into crime fighting himself, helping me solve cases for the humans under my identity as Agent Peter Burke."

"So you are saying that Trickster Caffrey is now Fixer Caffrey?" the judge from Andromeda questioned, looking interested. Bloomers didn't change their godly allegiances very often.

"He is," Peter agreed, nodding. "He has helped me solve many cases, an act of service to the human race. Trickster Caffrey has never committed a crime worthy of Spacetime intervention, and has put considerable effort into being what a human would consider a good citizen of the planet. I also have a personal relationship with Trickster Caffrey as a frolicker. I believe it is called on Andromeda, anyway, or a prince charming, as my wife's people would say. Personally, I am partial to the earth term, as I think it serves to truly define what we have. Neal is my lover, and he is a good man. As this planet's protector, I formally state my belief that Trickster Caffrey is reformed and should be placed into his own custody, free to move about the galaxies as he pleases. Thank you."

Peter stepped back, linking arms with El. He flashed Neal a smile, and then their image flickered away.

THREE HOURS LATER

"I can't believe it," Neal said slowly, head still spinning with the news. "I'm free. I'm really free!"

"No more Lieutenant on your ankle," Peter said with a chuckle. "That must feel nice."

"Oh yes," Neal groaned. "Just a hint? Never, *ever* date your parole guard." He sat up, glaring at the couple sitting opposite. "But don't think you're getting off that easy! Why the hell didn't you tell me you were aliens?"

"We don't really consider ourselves aliens anymore," El said with a soft shrug. "This is our home now, and we have no interest in returning to the stars."

"Don't you miss Fable?" Neal questioned. "I've heard the hills sprout castles like dandelions and that the dragons are covered head to toe in precious jewels."

El smiled. "It is a beautiful place, but to be honest, it's not a peaceful planet. So much questing and spell casting and under the table unicorn trading. I never wanted to be a Starprincess. I just wanted to be with Peter." She gave her husband a quick kiss on the cheek.

Neal shook his head. "It's amazing how many heterosexual planets there are out there. So strange. Does Fable have breeding males?"

"No," El said with a laugh. "Only breeding females."

"You're *not* a breeder, right?" Peter said, suddenly looking a little worried.

"Relax," Neal said dryly. "No illegitimate babies out of me. I only seed." He frowned. "Now I have to figure out what I want to do."

"You could go back to Andromeda," El suggested. "I'm sure you miss it. I've never seen a planet with so much natural sparkle."

"Yeah," Neal said, running his hands along the brim of his hat. "I guess so. I mean, I do miss it." He paused, trying to parse out of the wash of emotions running through him. "I really do. I just… God, I don't know."

Neal let his face fall into his hands, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. "Why is this so hard?"

There was a rustling, and a moment later Neal felt Peter's arm wrap around his shoulders, pulling him tight. "You've been here a long time, buddy," he said softly. "It's become your home, too, and it's not easy having two homes."

Neal looked up at the older man. "Was it hard for you?"

Peter gave him a sad smile. "My homestar exploded, and all that's left of my system is a black hole, but yes, it was still hard for me. We were a planet of cowboys, and I still miss my spurs."

"Cowboy up," Neal replied dryly, and Peter laughed.

"Exactly. But you have to do what you think is best." He affectionately brushed a curl off of Neal's forehead.

"That's the problem," Neal said in frustration. "I don't know what's best."

"I know," Peter said, giving his shoulders another squeeze. "But you have to do what you think will make you *happy.* If that's returning the tiara and going back to Andromeda, then so be it. But I'm going to be a little selfish here and tell you… Neal, I don't want you to go. I love you."

"We both do, Neal," El said softly. "But we will support you in whatever decision you make."

"I will miss the taste of pencil shavings," Neal admitted, giving Peter a lopsided smile. "Oh, and the *grease.* Bloomers don't know what they're missing." He paused, looking into the other man's eyes. "But what I would really miss is you. No gum willow or cookie burger could replace what I have here on Salty."

"Does that… Does that mean you're going to stay?" Peter's brown eyes were steady, but Neal sensed there was a lot going on behind that impenetrable mask.

Did Neal want to stay? It was no easy decision, that was for sure. He thought about Andromeda every day. People on Earth were so different from his kind, so conservative and upright. But, at the same time, he kind of loved them. What did Neal really have back on Andromeda, anyway? He'd never had a longterm mate or any children, and his career as a thief was certainly over. Hell, after over four bloomer years, he'd be lucky to be remembered. That was almost half his lifetime. Here on Earth Neal had a life, a home, a job. He had friends like Mozzie and June, who were surely the best of humans. And, most importantly, he had the man he loved.

When you got down to the core, it really wasn't that hard of a decision after all.

"Yeah," Neal said, a smile blooming on his face. "That means I'm going to stay."

Peter sucked in a short breath, reaching up to to dab at his eyes, and Neal realized in amazement that there were tears in his eyes. Neal felt his own eyes beginning to water as the man pulled him into a big hug.

"Welcome to Earth," Peter said with a whisper as he pressed his face into the back of Neal's neck. "I'm sure you'll enjoy your stay."

The End!