A/N: Translated from Italian. I do not have a beta-reader, so the mistakes are all mine... But I really hope the grammar is fine.
The title is taken from an Italian song called "Confessioni Di Un Malandrino" by Angelo Branduardi. It reminds me of Neal: .com/watch?v=A-QgSm1Ti5A
CONFESSIONS OF A MARAUDER - CONFESSIONI DI UN MALANDRINO
You want to hear my full confession, Your Honor?
Well, I'll admit I've done a lot of things in my life that I'm not proud of. No. No,that's not true.
There are some of my forgeries that are such masterpieces themselves...
I am still amazed by my own expertise. Who wouldn't be?
I'm proud of most of them. Most.
I am not proud of my lack of foresight, of my own foolish assumption that I would never leave Kate side, because no one out there could catch me. Not even Agent Burke.
I should have expected it, Your Honor, that it wouldn't be too long until someone threatened her to get to me. Anyone who knows Neal Caffrey, even on a superficial level - and I'm careful not to show more than that, nothing more than the confused outlines of one of my many masks – could tell you about that Moreau girl, who gave up her comfy life in the Upper East Side to elope with a penniless artist she had met before her father's death.
She said she wants to come home. Come home to me? I am starting to doubt it.
Do not think that my actions were merely a desperate attempt to please her, though. She never seemed to miss the life she had, not even while we drank cheap wine, pretending we were dining in some fancy restaurant of the Côte D'Azur. Furthermore, in spite of seeing her eyes lighten up at the mention of Keller's 'exploits', more than once, I'd never stoop to his level.
Do not belittle what I did by picturing me as an helpless puppet in her hands, Your Honor. I certainly wasn't.
I was the one who asked her to be trusted, who made the choice of being a con man. For his own good. More out of narcissism, truthfully, than greed.
I'll admit that I've always know I could use my skills for "the greater good". Yet, it was not as appealing as the alternative. Working as 24/7, going through paperwork for years before having the chance to follow an interesting case? No thanks.
Spare me an argument such as "the amount of work I do equals certain things in the real world ".
Those were Peter's words, when he suggested that living above my standards was the reason I came up with my schemes of thefts, frauds and forgeries... He might have been right, but let me ask You: shouldn't I be given the credit for knowing how to cheat you all? I was simply getting my reward.
I had no one to lean on, except Mozzie, the greatest mentor and friend anyone could wish for.
See?
I am no less of a self-made man than all those who would feature the classic blockbuster movie about the American dream and yet you label me as the villain, rather that the hero.
What about my family? Well, it's been years since they kissed me goodbye, all teary eyed but sighing with relief of not having a constant reminder of their failure as parents.
I guess I was dead to them the instant I was handcuffed. They didn't show up at the trials, assuming I was guilty and not wanting to face the public humiliation of raising a felon. Who knows what they would have done if I had a brother who was a serial killer...
It's such a shame that I am an only child, don't you think?
I would have had a loyal wing-man, someone whom I could initiate to the noble art of counterfeiting and that would worship the ground I walked on. I might be exaggerating, but this is a fantasy, so I am not taking into consideration he might have been a backstabbing bastard.
I could admit this and much more, Your Honor. We could sit here and talk for days. Weeks.
Too bad I'm in a bit of a hurry today, and I must jump out your window right now.
Too bad.