Title: This Is Not Heaven, This Is My Hell
Author: felicitoushope
Rating: T for language
Spoilers: Partially set after 2x16, assuming events of all previous episodes.
Summary: What made Matthew Keller become the man he is today? He wasn't always so coldhearted. A chance encounter in 2011 brings back unwanted memories of seven years before, and the moment when everything changed.
Disclaimer: We own nothing but our extensive headcanon for these three characters. If we did own anything, the show would be a very different program than what it is now.

2011

At first Keller walked past the café without a second glance. He'd finally paid off everything; he could honestly say that this was the most relieved he'd been in more than a year. A small, smug smile had found its way onto his face as he walked, his hands in the pockets of his suit as he tried to look purposeful. A minute after he'd passed the tables and umbrellas of the café, however, a familiar female voice caught his attention. It couldn't be….he hadn't thought of her in a long time, or at least that was what he told himself. He shook his head in disbelief, slowing his walk, when he recognized the male voice she was conversing with. His ears were playing tricks, they had to be. But anything could have happened in a little over a year. Face suddenly creased with trepidation, he turned around and peered down the sidewalk.

Sure enough, Sara was sitting at one of the tables situated a bit further back from the sidewalk. Sitting across from her, sure enough—Keller blinked, shaking his head and taking a step closer—was Neal. What was it that he had said that night? That was almost seven years ago, now. Keller felt slightly ridiculous for even remembering, for thinking that the scene in front of him even had anything to do with that. Caffrey was with the FBI, now; it was perfectly reasonable that he talk to an insurance agent over lunch. Perfectly reasonable.

2004

It was five minutes until 6:30. Keller was sitting on the edge of the bed, small velvet box in hand, watching the clock and opening and closing the box every few minutes, as if afraid the ring would disappear. Sara was due home any minute now….He got up and crossed over to a chair, soon resuming his fidgeting and glancing at the clock. Trying to relax and let himself think, he couldn't stop a giddy smile from spreading over his face. He was asking Sara to marry him. He was going to get married. Of course, she didn't have to say yes—but he decided not to think about that possibility at the moment.

In a day or two more, Neal and all evidence of the recent insurance scheme would be gone. He'd already informed his fellow conman that he was planning on "taking a break," and that the Fitzgerald heist was likely the last one he'd be involved with for a while. Neal had agreed surprisingly easily, but had cautioned him to be careful until it was absolutely sure that their tracks were covered. Neal would be sending him the all clear any day now, however. Keller wasn't one to be careful and patient. Lost in thought, he hadn't been watching the clock – when he looked up again, it was nearly 7:00. "Sara, where are you?" he sighed, now actually somewhat worried.

She'd been driving around the neighborhood for half an hour now, dreading the inevitable. She now found herself walking up the front steps to the condo, manila folder hugged against her chest as she fumbled with her key in the lock. Breathing shakily, Sara wandered inside and prepared herself, running over everything she wanted to say in her mind. Slipping her shoes off, she headed for the bedroom, and her heart gave an involuntary aching jolt as she saw him seated on the bed. "Hi," she managed out hoarsely, shakily at best as she opened the folder and looked down at it, leaning against the doorframe.

He quickly shoved the ring into his pocket before she could notice it, for some reason suddenly very nervous. Maybe it had to do with the folder she'd been clutching, or something about the way she'd said "Hi," or, of course, maybe he was just getting nervous. "Hi," he replied, looking up at her curiously, her eyes still cast down at the folder. "Sara?"

"You'll never believe the case I got today. Updike managed to snag something marginally interesting for me. Apparently, the manuscript of Fitzgerald's first version of The Great Gatsby was stolen, and, well, Sterling Bosch has it insured…." She looked up at him only after she was finished speaking, brow creased and worry evident on her features.

"Oh!" Keller answered after a short pause. "I thought—I thought you didn't work with—with that sort of thing," he stammered, brow creasing. "This a special assignment or something?" he asked. The conversation was quickly becoming uncomfortable and for whatever reason, Keller found himself doing a terrible job of covering himself up. In the back of his mind, he'd been expecting something like this since Neal had gotten the idea. He fidgeted with the ring in his pocket, still gazing nervously at Sara.

"The really funny part? You'll get a kick out of this," she laughed nervously, ignoring his inquiry and opening the folder more. She then folded it back and turned it around so that he could see what she was referring to. "The sketch of the perp looks an awful lot like you, which is ridiculous, right? What would a salesman have to do with Fitzgerald manuscripts…right?"

"I…I don't know," he answered, stalling for time. He looked up at the ceiling, then down at his shoes, thoughts racing. Neal had messed up. He'd missed something, not considered this or that factor when he'd planned the whole thing, and Keller had been stupid enough to trust him. "It could've been a mistake," he added half-heartedly.

"...could've?" she asked, voice breaking.

He looked up at her, his expression almost defeated. "What do you want me to say?" he asked softly.

"Deny it. Tell me it's not true. Tell me it can't be true. Please," she pleaded, whimpering.

Keller opened his mouth to reply, but on a second thought, closed it again, looking at her sadly. He wasn't sure why he was acting like this, why he wasn't even making an effort; if he had really tried, he could have convinced her. She was so eager to believe him that something told him it wouldn't even have been that hard. But anything he said right now would have come out half-hearted and pathetic, worse than saying nothing, so he kept his mouth shut.

She gaped back at him for a few long moments of silence, before a whimper escaped her. "You did it. You did it, didn't you?"

"I…" he trailed off and shook his head, more in disbelief at the situation than trying to deny anything. "Not exactly?"

"What does that mean, Matthew?" she pressed desperately.

"Look, I wasn't in charge of it. I didn't plan the whole thing or anything. I helped…But you've figured that much out yourself. I'm not going to plead with you, Sara," he finished. After a moment, he added, "What I meant was it depends on what you mean by it when you say that I did it. Forgive me if I'm getting too technical."

"The manuscript You stole it?" she guessed, her voice wavering.

A dozen excuses and clever wordings and ambiguous answers sprang to mind, but again he kept quiet. He nodded. He didn't have to get into the particulars right now.

"…where is it?"

"I don't know," he answered. "You don't believe me, of course you don't," he continued, almost snorting at the ridiculous situation. How was he getting caught by his girlfriend? How had he let this happen? Or, more importantly, how had he let Neal let this happen? It had never been his idea to go after something connected to Sara's own company.

"I want to. I want to believe you, believe the man I've loved for years now. But how can I? How long have you been lying to me?"

"I didn't lie about everything. I didn't lie when I said I wanted to be with you, or that I thought you were beautiful, or…or…Sara, I'm sorry."

She blinked a few times as she looked over at him, and after taking a few shaky breaths to try and clear her mind, she moved over to the bed and sat on the side, leaving a few inches between them, staring at the wall opposite her in silence. How was she supposed to process all of this?

Keller sat still, staring straight ahead. He was afraid to turn around and look at her. He was supposed to be heartless; he was supposed to be able to betray people left and right without feeling a thing. But he'd never envisioned a situation in which Sara was the one being conned. "Sara?" he said quietly, finally twisting around slightly to look at her.

It was a few moments before she replied. "What?" she asked just as quietly, still looking away from him, biting her lower lip nervously.

"It was…it was never supposed to affect you, if that means anything."

She ignored that. "You should have told me the truth from the start, Matthew. I wouldn't have cared about you any less. Do you really think that little of me?" The hurt in her tone was unmistakable as she swallowed back a sob forming in the back of her throat.

He turned back around, there being no point in facing her while she was still staring resolutely at the wall. "I did it to protect you, Sara," he said. It made sense to him, even if it wouldn't to her.

"I don't need you to protect me, Matthew. I'm not a child," she replied pointedly, turning toward him now, only to find him looking away from her. She'd had people trying to guard her her entire life; she was more than capable of doing it on her own now.

"Fine!" he retorted, louder than he'd intended. "I did it to protect myself, then. I didn't want to get arrested. Is that better?" He was beginning to get angry. He wasn't mad at her, not really; it was more the fact that this was even a problem. Why did he, of all people, have to fall for the insurance agent? And yet that had been part of what attracted him to her. They essentially did the same thing, one of them for the law, and one of them outside of it.

She whimpered at the volume of his tone as well as the anger within it and looked at him for a few moments longer, her lower lip trembling. Sniffling softly, Sara then took a soft breath and turned away from him, running her hands through her hair lightly as she stared down at her lap, unsure of how to reply, where to go from here, how to fix what had suddenly been broken.

He turned around at the sound of her whimper, softening slightly. His shoulders sank at the sight that greeted him, however. Her head was resting in her hands, her fingers wound tensely into her hair. He stood up and she barely made any sign of acknowledging him; clearly, she didn't want him here anymore. And why should she? He'd been lying to her for years, and now he'd finally stolen something her company insured. He drew the small black box out of his pocket, setting it on the bed, before turning and before turning and walking silently out the bedroom door. He checked for his wallet in his pocket, fake IDs and credit cards and all and made his way for the apartment door. He'd finally done it, that much was clear. There was no point in staying any longer than necessary.

She looked up suddenly at the sound of his retreating footsteps, and she was on her feet within mere seconds. Where was he going? Why was he leaving? They weren't…but he…hadn't they….All thoughts came to an abrupt halt as she noticed something small on the bed, and her heart sank immediately at the sight. Leaning down, she palmed the small velvet box and opened it with shaky fingertips, another slightly louder whimper escaping her lips now at the sight of the ring inside of it. "Matthew!" she called out desperately, hurrying out of the bedroom and down the hallway. As soon as she reached the living room, however, she realized it was too late. The door was just shutting behind him.

2004

Wiping his slightly paint smudged hands on his pants as he crossed over to the door, Neal glanced at the clock on the wall, entirely confused as to who would be coming over at nine o'clock. Shaking it off, he unlocked the door and opened it, brows raising at the sight that greeted him. "Hey—"

Keller didn't waste any time. He strode inside, slamming the door shut behind him. Before Neal had a chance to say anything he had him pinned against the wall next to the door, hands a few inches away from his throat. "You said it had nothing to do with her, Caffrey," he growled. "You said her branch of the company would never even hear of it and that you would take care of all the evidence." At the expression on Neal's face, he loosened his grip slightly, but only a little.

Feigning cluelessness for a few moments longer, Neal finally broke and allowed a slight smirk to spread across his features, shrugging his slightly hunched shoulders at that. "What can I say? Maybe I lied…."

Keller tightened his grip again. "What…what kind of an advantage would that possibly have given you?" he hissed, for some reason unwilling to believe that Neal had lied. He'd always thought the man more innocent, though perhaps he was just better at his job than Keller had thought.

"You've been off your game ever since you and Repo got serious," Neal replied with a slight shrug, straining back against the wall and scoffing lightly as he looked at the other man closely. "I mean, look at you. You never would have been like this two years ago…."

Keller let out a derisive breath and pressed him harder against the wall. "Look at me? Two years ago? What does that have to do with you lying to me?" Neal was probably right, though, as much as Keller was reluctant to admit it.

"You would've been much more suspicious of me two years ago, and yet you had no problem trusting me this time. You're losing your stuff, Keller. She was toxic for you."

"Of course I would've been more suspicious. I barely knew you," he retorted feebly. It was a ridiculous idea for anyone to imply that he actually knew another con. Who was to say Neal hadn't been putting on an act for him all this time? It was just part of the game.

"You don't get it, do you?" Neal laughed, rolling his eyes as he shook his head a bit. "I don't care about how your life is affected. You're not cut out for the white picket fence life. You're only good as a con. You're only worth something as a con."

Keller let go of him as if physically stung, his face twisted in disgust. "Glad to hear what you really think, then," he spat, backing up slowly.

"Come on, Keller. You know better than to think anyone actually cares about you. How do you know Sara wasn't lying to you all along, too?" Neal snickered. "As if someone like her could love someone like you."

"I—I never said anything about—caring," he sputtered. "And she didn't know!" he added incredulously. "She didn't know a thing until you fucked up!"

"Oh, that's what you think happened?" Neal laughed, eyebrows arching with equal incredulity. "Do you really think that I would fuck up?"

"You-Caffrey, you bastard-you didn't-"

Neal merely smirked in reply and shrugged, once again feigning innocence as he stared at the other man with slightly narrowed eyes, almost as if in a challenge.

Keller took a deep breath in a valiant effort to calm himself down. "Alright then. Tell me," he said, barely keeping his voice from shaking. "If you didn't make a mistake, because as we all know, Neal 'Perfect Con Man' Caffrey never makes mistakes, what happened? Huh? Tell me that."

"If you have to ask, you're even dumber than I thought you were," Neal answered simply, smug as ever.

The other man glared back at him for a moment, apparently fighting with himself over something. "If you wanna know, I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. I thought, Okay, I'll let him try to explain. But it's not my problem if you don't want to take your chance." He stood still for a moment longer, the muscles in his face tense.

"I don't know about taking my chance with you, but that little insurance agent of yours will be getting pretty lonely soon, now won't she?"

Keller blinked, his mouth falling open in shock as if Neal had slapped him across the face. He made a move as if to say something else, but instead he fell silent and before he realized what he was doing he was rushing at Neal, the sight of panic flickering across the man's face giving him a satisfied thrill. He pinned him against the wall with one hand, marveling at his own strength for half a second before sending a fist flying into Neal's face. The contact felt good, it felt right, and at the moment causing this man pain was the only thing he cared about. Everything Neal had done, every dishonest, smiling thing he had told him, and every smug, snarky comment he had made this past evening fueled another hit. Neal might have been fighting back, but Keller didn't notice; he just concentrated on punching him and jabbing him in any and every vulnerable place he could find. Finally, breathing hard, he brought his knee up sharply between the other con's legs, trying and failing to catch his breath as Neal bent over in pain.

"She may be lonely, but at least now you look like the scumbag you are," Keller said after a moment, watching as Neal sank lower to the ground, colorful bruises already blossoming on his face. He licked his lips, taking a few more deep breaths, and finally spat, "Have a good night." With this he was out the door, leaving a trace of blood from Neal's nose on the door handle. He wiped his hand on his pants and continued out of the building and off into the night, not smiling, but looking strangely, grimly satisfied.

2011

As he was thinking, Keller had strayed farther down the sidewalk by accident, so that the closest tables were barely ten feet away. His eyebrows drew together and he tightened his lips, glancing around in a slight panic. Sara was still deep in conversation with Caffrey—about their current case? He had to suppress a skeptical snort as he started to turn away.

Sara was mid-laughter when something caught her eye. A familiar face, but with saddened eyes. She blinked hard at that, mentally reprimanding herself. No, it wasn't…couldn't have been. There was no way it was….Nonetheless, the ring she wore on the gold chain around her neck suddenly felt as though it weighed a literal ton. She'd told herself to sell it, to get the money back and find Matthew somehow in the past seven years somehow, but she hadn't. She'd kept it—had needed to keep it, if only as a reminder of how badly she had messed things up.

The sound of Neal's "Sara, are you all right?" only barely registered with her. Within a few moments, she'd excused herself from the table, tossing her napkin onto it before quickly heading down the street after the retreating figure. The nearer she got, the surer she was. It was him. It had to be. It's now or never, Sara, she told herself, before taking a deep breath.

"Matthew?"