ConTender
"I could…"
"No!"
"But Peter…"
"No!"
"But …"
"No! Forget it, Neal. Nobody would believe that you are my son. I'm too young to be your father."
"You told DeWitt that your son went to college last year."
"And that was quite a stretch. I don't look old enough to have a son that age." Aware of the incredulous look Neal gave him, Peter decided to lay down the law. "I only did it to bond with him over stories about our sons. It's his favorite topic."
"I was in the van." Neal reminded him. "It was a stroke of genius. Otherwise DeWitt would never have opened up to you that quickly." Peter felt proud and angry at the same time that a part of him sought Neal's approval. "But he might get cautious if you don't bring your son to this party. We can't miss this opportunity."
"Neal, nobody in their right mind would believe that you're my son. I'll try to get a youthful-looking agent who might pass. And that's final."
"Mr. Edison! So glad you could make it!"
"Mr. DeWitt! I'm honored that you invited me." Honored indeed. The garden of the lavish villa was filled with some of the richest people in New York City. He was not really interested in the yellow press, but since the tabloids had the best crosswords, it was difficult to escape the news on the society pages. He easily recognized Vera Prescott, who was lying by the pool in an elegant summer dress, surrounded by three men at least ten years younger than she. She barely paid attention to them; instead she kept a keen eye on her surroundings, especially her associates Brantley and Christy Foster, who were busily discussing something with a group of potential investors. But there were also a lot of older kids and teenagers among the guests.
"I always like to get to know my business partners, and their families. Speaking of family…" Mr. DeWitt's eyes searched for Peter's nonexistent son. Peter had spent three days searching for a believable candidate, without success. Desperately, he had considered Blake for the assignment, but the inexperienced agent had fallen ill a day ago – with measles of all things. His only option was to hope that DeWitt would buy his explanation.
"I'm sorry, but …"
"Dad! There you are."
Peter inwardly froze when he heard the voice behind him. The fool! The twice-damned fool!
"That's your son?" DeWitt sounded surprised. Naturally, after all, Neal looked too old and nothing like him. But now Peter had no choice but to play along.
"Yeah, that's George." He turned to Neal and paused. Neal looked – different. With his face clean-shaven and his curls falling unruly into his face, he reminded Peter of the day he'd found him in Kate's empty apartment. Instead of a designer suit, he wore casual but expensive clothing, the kind that children of rich parents would wear. His stance was different, too, less self-assured, a little bit slouchy, but not in a rebellious way. He looked easily ten years younger than he was – or than Peter thought him to be. But now was not the time to ponder this. "George, that's Mr. DeWitt, our host," he said, before anyone could notice his surprise.
"How do you do, Mr. DeWitt?" Neal's smile was boyish, but still charming. DeWitt automatically smiled too.
"I hope you'll have fun. My son Wendell should be down soon."
Neal nodded enthusiastically. "Dad says that he studies design."
Peter didn't even remember the fact, since apparently Wendell had changed his major a couple of times, and he hadn't bothered to keep track what his actual interest was. But Neal obviously had paid attention and soon made Mr. DeWitt very happy with all the details he parroted back to him. The older businessman was clearly proud that his new business partner had relayed so much about his son to "George".
"No, it wasn't easy, but Father really helped during this difficult time. Without him, I surely would have flunked my senior year, but he put most of his business on hold to be there for me."
How the heck had this conversation moved to Peter's supposedly dead wife? Using that back-story had been convenient (although a fake wife was easier to produce than a fake son), and a good way to appeal to DeWitt, who had raised his son by himself after his wife was killed in a freak accident.
DeWitt was visibly moved by Neal's story. "She must have been a great woman."
But Peter was never slow on the uptake. Remembering Neal's actions as "George Donelly", he pulled out his wallet.
"She was something special," he assured and opened it, intending to show the picture of him and Elizabeth. To his surprise, there was an additional picture beside it, the graduation shot the FBI created for "Benjamin Cooper's" yearbook.
"Beautiful," DeWitt remarked. "Now I see where George got his looks from."
"Yes, seeing him is like seeing a piece of her." Peter took the opportunity to ruffle "affectionately" through Neal's curls, deliberately pulling at his hair a little bit. "Although he can be quite a rascal."
DeWitt laughed, but excused himself to greet some new guests.
"Wow, that's Vivian Louis!" Neal's eyes were glued onto the décolletage of the leggy redhead, which was adorned with a tasteful but expensive-looking necklace. Peter gave him a light slap on the back of his head.
"If I learn that you just inserted yourself into this operation to scout out possible victims…"
"Dad, I'm hurt. I just appreciate the beauty."
"And don't call me Dad."
For a moment, Neal's grin vanished.
"When I play a role, I play it to the hilt. You should know that. And now excuse me, I think the son of the host has just arrived."
"Behave!" Peter warned him.
Five hours later with no offer, not even a hint from DeWitt about helping him with a little insider trading, Peter was frustrated. He had tried to keep an eye on Neal, but had lost track of him an hour ago. Asking DeWitt for directions to where "his wayward son" might be, he finally found him with Wendell in a secluded room, where they leaned over a desk, discussing some sketches Neal had made.
"Time to go, Georgie." Peter said, tremendously enjoying Neal's wince about the nickname.
"But Dad…" Neal whined.
"No discussion."
Sullenly Neal followed his orders (he actually pouted!), but visibly peaked up when Wendell invited him over for the weekend. "If that's okay with you?" his father asked.
"Naturally, Mr. DeWitt," Peter answered with an ease he didn't feel. He wanted Neal out of this operation as soon as possible after he had inserted himself without permission.
"Please, call me Carlton."
"Of all the irresponsible … "
"Peter … "
"Don't Peter me. I thought you learned your lesson about running off without proper backup."
"But Peter…"
"No! You were careless. And for what?"
"It's Wendell."
"Your shenanigans – what?" Peter's brain had caught up with what Neal had said.
"I think that Wendell is responsible for the insider trading. And there's more. I think … I think he beat up someone over it. Or ordered the beating to silence her."
"Who?"
"I'm not sure. But I'll find out." Neal had a grim expression on his face.
"Not without proper backup!" Peter said, before he realized that he had accidentally agreed to Neal's further involvement. He sighed. "Are you sure about this?"
"DeWitt dotes on him, he has access to everything, and while he doesn't really want to apply himself in business, he is clever enough to pull this off. And really, Wendell DeWitt? No wonder he went bad with a name like that."
In the end, it was easy. They found Wendell's victim and convinced her to make an official statement. Peter's cover even stayed intact. He went to DeWitt one last time to orchestrate an elegant retreat from the business.
"I'm sorry, Carlton."
"Don't be, I understand." DeWitt looked at the picture of his son with a mixture of sadness, revulsion and longing. "One can learn a lot about a man if you know how he treats his family. I'm obviously a blind fool. Why should you trust me?"
"I'm sure you did your best for your son," Peter assured him uncomfortably. "It's not wrong to love your own child."
"I spoiled him, but I obviously didn't really see him. I just wish…" he sighed. "You know, I was very impressed by your son. Such a charming young man. You must be proud of him."
"Yes, I am. Very proud."
A/N: Written for a prompt by nefhiriel from the screencap challenge, round five of the Comment-A-Thon at the Collar Corner. Beta-Read by mam711