Cracked, Not Broken
The cracks had been there for so long. Not even Neal knew how many, though he could feel them, could never - quite - forget them. They hurt more in the dark hours just before dawn, and at those times he couldn't even see a dawn at all.
His father.
Prison, that first time, and what he had to do.
Kate, beautiful Kate.
But his heart just cracked, never quite broke, so he learned to cover with his smile and style and sweetness, to wait for edges to soften, for some sort of balm to make him forget; being Neal, he was always mildly surprised when solace seemed to come from other people. Alex, who held just a sliver of his well-hidden soul; Sarah, who teased with rather more. Little Samantha. June and Elizabeth.
Then Mozzie. And Peter. Both seemed to know they held more than a sliver; both must have known about the odd, painful, chipped, shadowy places that weren't for sharing. Neal's heart wasn't much these days, he knew that, but both Mozzie and Peter seemed to value it, to want it. And he somehow knew they really didn't want to share either.
Their wants - their love - pulled at him, and like the con he always was, he balanced them as best he could, played with them, He covered the cracks they left, soaked up the balm they gave. He tried - oh, he did! - to play fair, giving what he could, wanting them to give more back than they would. Or could. Or even should.
The cracks had been there for a long time... but when it fell apart, and Mozzie left, and Elizabeth was taken, and Peter just looked at him, the cover gave way, and in the silence his heart splintered.
-the end-