Admission to the Clouds

By:

Saslyax-chan

Rated: T

Genre: Angst, Drama

Summary: Neal Caffrey was living the dream; however, there was always a price to pay, a rent required every month.

Disclaimer: I don't own White Collar.

Admission to the Clouds

Neal Caffrey was living the dream; however, there was always a price to pay, a rental fee required every month.

Everyone seemed to think he had it all: Neal finally had a stable life and exquisite, living quarters that were free of monetary cost. His payment was the occasional chore, favor, or company June would sometimes request, but she mostly let him be and never asked uncomfortable or prying questions.

All the people he ever really needed surrounded him: Moz, June, Jones, Diana, El, and maybe, most importantly, Peter. Neal no longer had a reason to keep on running; his job as Peter's underhanded consultant gave him the excitement he craved. In a couple more years, he would no longer be the FBI's pet felon, but hopefully, maybe a trustworthy partner? Nah! It was only Peter's trust and friendship Neal wanted. He still wasn't a big fan of his 'employers'. Probably never would be.

Neal hadn't been this happy for a long time. Not even his time with Moz, Alex, or even Kate could compare or live up to his new life.

Jones said he was living the dream; they both were, but Neal wasn't so sure.

Sara left. Maybe they weren't perfect together or meant to be soul mates, but it sure put a damper on his mood when she turned down his offer to be a queen in a far away land. It made him doubt his life, which life meant more?

There was a price to pay, of course. Neal still wanted to live up in the clouds, as his recent ex, Sara, would eloquently put it. He let her go to move ahead towards the lofty lifestyle he desired. He didn't want to live like everyone else. He wanted everyone to look up at him with envy directed towards his luxurious abode in Olympia. Everyone said his head was in the clouds, and that it was impossible, but he was Neal Caffrey. He could pull off anything he set his mind to. He'd do the impossible.

There were two options Neal foresaw: he could live on the ground with Peter or make living on the clouds a reality with Mozzie.

Giving up life as Neal Caffrey was an extensive fee to be able to move to the freedoms of the sky. He rather liked Neal Caffrey. He wasn't too sure he wanted Victor Monroe's golden ticket to cloud land, but that urge, that thrill of successfully pulling off one, final heist, was his siren call. Mozzie was right; it was hard being closet billionaires. His spending spree with Sara could be a reality, this time, except she wouldn't be a part of his new life.

Neal didn't need her. Sara would regret turning his offer down, someday.

Thank god, Satchmo wasn't a vicious guard-dog that made chew toys out of intruders, thieves, and convicts, but his puppy eyes reminded him of Peter's disappointed stare. Damn that dog! He made his heart heavy with guilt when it should be pounding with adrenaline and thrill.

It was rather awkward when Peter called the exact moment Neal cracked open his safe. Neal's a good liar; he hid his discomfort and tried his hardest to sound like he wasn't scheming in the darkness of the night. Neal prayed Satchmo didn't bark, or Peter didn't become suspicious and check his tracking data. Peter always had an annoying habit of sensing when he was up to no good.

Luckily, Peter thought he was sulking over Sara not answering his calls. Normally, he would suspect him of calling Mozzie or someone just as devious. It made the guilt claw at his innards; it just proved how good of a friend Peter was, and how he didn't deserve Peter's friendship.

The partial manifest was right in front of him and a copy was already in his phone's memory files. Moz would be so happy and proud of him, and they could finally live on cloud nine. But, Peter's betrayed eyes burned into his mind. That worthless photo, which was worth no monetary value, was locked away like it was a stash of gold, burned into his mind.

What to do? What to fucking do?

Neal was never an indecisive oaf. He took charge. He was one of the few people in the world that knew what he wanted and intended to do everything and anything to make it happen.

He could lie to Moz and say it was never there, just delete that incriminating photo from his phone. He could show Moz that picture and hit it big as Victor and Bob. He wanted to lie and lie and lie, but lie to whom?

After a moments thought, the miniature Mozzie on his shoulder was losing a heavy argument with a mini Peter on the opposite end. Neal would stay in New York and lie to Moz, but he already had the names on the manifest memorized, even when he only glanced at it for a moment in the dark. Never before had he cursed his great memory. The temptation would always be there, clawing at him until it finally broke free.

What to do?

His phone rang for the second time. Neal was horrified. It was Peter! He knows! He'd grit out a livid 'Caffrey!' He'd be surrounded in seconds! He'd be convinced to let go of his dream. Peter would pull him down from the clouds. For a second, Neal wished it was Peter, but it was Moz, impatient Moz that couldn't handle spending another second with El.

"Neal, do you have it?"

Here it was. It was time to make his choice. A choice he'd later regret or laugh at the thought the discarded option was ever a choice.

"I got it," he told Moz. Neal betrayed his heart, or did his heart betray him? He couldn't even tell what he really wanted anymore.

Neal and Mozzie or Victor and Bob, shared a similar dream. They both paid the same price, though, it always seemed like Neal went bankrupt, while Mozzie had plenty left to spare. He felt cheated out of a good deal.

His dream wasn't perfect. While their taste was somewhat similar, their dreams could never be exact replicas, just like Neal's forgeries. Neal no longer had his awkward, little friend to invade his personal space, drink all of his fine wine, barge in at awkward times, and scheme until the sun rose.

He missed Moz. Neal somehow thought that at least Mozzie would always be with him, even if Peter couldn't. Sure, they spent a lot of time together in the beginning, selling off their lost art and making their eventually getaway with surprising ease. Neal was sure Peter would catch on and find him, like he always did, but he didn't.

They got away and left their country, home, friends, and old identities behind them. Neal never got a chance to say goodbye or even hint at what he was up to, in a swarm of tiny clues, which probably no one, but Peter, had a chance of latching onto and proceed to dissect them, until the truth was found out.

After they fenced the safe pieces of art, had their money in their pockets, divided up the remaining art between themselves, and got settled, they never saw much of each other afterwards. Sure they always kept in contact, but now it was only a visit once a month to drink some of the most expensive bottles of wine.

Paranoid as ever, Mozzie even suggested to burn the pieces that were on the manifest so there would be absolutely no incriminating evidence left. As of now, Neal had been holding onto them. He protested the idea but Moz was right. It still hurt. It was the only thing he had left to remind him of Peter, the one thing left that could get the man to find him again, and Neal just couldn't find it in his heart to burn such treasures. It was sacrilegious to destroy such fine art, but Moz was right. Neal let go.

It had been years and no one found them.

Neal had all of the money in the world. He could buy and pretty much do whatever the hell he wanted to, but still he wanted more. He pulled off the perfect heist and got away, but that still wasn't enough. He wanted to risk his perfect life for another thrill, for a chance to drop clues and have Peter catch him again. He wanted to run.

Neal never did anything major. It was always little things to ease his restless soul, like pick pocketing or forging some local, artist's work that was never worth much.

He couldn't risk losing everything, even if he wanted to.

He was living the dream.

Moz was right. He eventually dropped the regret and learned to love his decision to leave. Peter, and the FBI, and June were all distant memories. That whole part of his life seemed unreal and more like a distant dream. The pain of missing them had faded with time. He still had Moz, and that was all he needed.

It always made him smile when he'd come home and find Mozzie sitting on a chair with a glass of wine in hand. Just like old times.

Then the impossible happened. Neal should have expected it to happen someday, but he never thought it actually would: Peter found him.

Thank god Mozzie wasn't around. He didn't think Moz could handle seeing Mister Suit again. Neal wasn't sure he could either.

Mixed feelings arose as he locked eyes with his ex partner and friend. Neal spoke the first thing that was on his mind. "How did you find me?"

"I had a little help." Peter didn't look like wanted to explain it any more.

Neal thought for a moment before the answer came to him. "It was Sara wasn't it? She was the only one who knew this name. Did she tell you?"

Peter never replied, but Neal knew he hit the mark.

The FBI agent was surprisingly calm. There was no disappointment in his eyes, and Peter didn't look like he was plotting to kill him. Neal thought both of those outcomes were very plausible and likely to occur.

"Is this visit business or pleasure then?" Neal decided to ask. He had to know. He wouldn't struggle or try to run away this time. There was no point. Peter would always find him, and Neal couldn't run forever. He needed to know if he'd be leaving in cuffs and extradited out of the country.

"A little of both, I suppose. I can't drag you back Neal, not if you want to stay here. I have no evidence to convict you with. I didn't exactly want to come here, but I just had to see you with my own eyes." There was a distinct sadness in Peter's eyes. For running? Failing to stay on the right side of the law? For throwing away their friendship?

"You always find me. You're the only one that can." Neal stared at Peter, trying to pinpoint his exact reasons for being here. None of them made much sense, especially since he had no evidence, anger, or disappointment. He finally said, "What? No disappointed gleam in the eyes? No anger at me falling back into my scheming and wrongful ways?

"Oh, so you finally admit what you did was wrong?"

"I never denied it before. Wrong, but fun."

The humor was gone, and Peter was serious again. "Neal, come back. You don't belong here. Man up and leave."

"And live out the rest of my life collared and caged like a dog? Or under the watchful eyes of my FBI masters? I'm fine right here. It's you who should go back home to your cheap suits. You're the one that doesn't belong here!"

"We all miss you, you know."

"Peter, I'm finally living the dream. I can't give it up now. That's a price I'm not willing to pay."

"I'll always find you. You'll always be right here, unable to leave this paradise and go home."

Never before had Neal felt such an urge to punch his friend in the face, but he withheld it. Assault on an officer of the law was an offense, after all.

Neal finally ended this little chat. "I'm sorry, Sir. I'm not this Neal Caffrey, nor do I know anyone with that name. I'm Victor Monroe."

Peter looked deeply sad again and sighed, "Goodbye Neal. I hope you wake up and realize the truth of your actions. I'll be waiting for you to come back."

Peter did eventually leave, reluctantly, after a few moments of harsh silence. Neal never had to tell Mozzie about this incident. Neal should just forget it all together, like it never existed. Peter had no right to find him.

Peter Burke wasn't living the dream; of course there was a price to pay. His friendship with Neal was gone, and most likely, dead.

People said he was living the dream. He had a beautiful, smart wife, a stable marriage, great friends, and was one of the few people that were good at and loved their job.

However, everything seemed incomplete without the man whom he thought of as his closest friend and partner. It felt like he failed and let down himself and Neal. He let Neal get away. He couldn't convince him to crawl out of the darkness and stand by his side as a proper member of society.

Of course, Peter being Peter, he was the one who deciphered Neal's little, phantom clues. He suspected and now finally knew what Neal was up to. There was no solid evidence so far, but Peter was willing to take this chance and managed to convince a team to go with him to apprehend Caffrey. His instincts were screaming at him to. They were never wrong before.

Neal had indeed intended to flee the country with the entire stash of stolen art from the German U-boat. Peter could tell Caffrey's heart wasn't fully in it. If it were, Caffrey would have gotten away. Moz was nowhere in sight. Caffrey must have somehow warned him. Peter wanted to catch Moz even more than everyone else, but Moz was a ghost. It was hard to pin down his location or his involvement. His higher ups thought it was easier to drop that goose chase and land all of the blame on Caffrey, as illogical as that was. It was an impossible one-man job.

It was hard to even be there, let alone meet Caffrey's eyes as he was cuffed and carted away. "I guess it's 0-4 now." It was the last thing Peter heard Caffrey say in an informal setting for a long time.

Neal Caffrey was tried and found guilty. He'd have a lot more than four years and a tracking anklet now. Caffrey never even denied anything, but he never mentioned Mozzie again. He protected him, even when Moz didn't hesitate taking the easy way out.

Peter would never know what happened in between Caffrey preparing to run and Moz's disappearance. He never saw or heard from Moz again.

He couldn't bring himself to ever visit Caffrey in prison. Caffrey had betrayed his trust and he couldn't even think about the man without having the urge to strangle him to death.

Caffrey was locked down tighter than ever. He managed to escape before; he could do it again. Caffrey blew all of his second chances and nine lives when he ran for Kate, when he tried to run away with billions of dollars of stolen art. Neal would never get another deal. Though, Peter tried and failed.

He tried to forget about Caffrey after that.

He and El never argued this much before. They still loved each other dearly, but he blamed Caffrey for every single argument. They were always about Neal. It was usually about how he shouldn't abandon Neal or stay angry with him forever. How Peter should be there and be supportive when Neal needed him the most.

He never got another birthday card, or a phone call, or any form of contact, at all. He never could forget Neal for very long. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the hundreds of tally marks on the walls.

Then, he got the call. Peter knew from Jones, Diana, and others that Neal became more reserved and quiet and was not his usual, charming self, but he never knew it would go this far.

Neal had been transferred. He was baffled as to why.

Then he found out the location: Neal broke. Neal was no longer grounded. His head was up in the clouds, for real this time. He could never see anybody. He saw through them. Nothing but his fantasy world existed. Neal thought he got away with Moz, and he was living a life of luxury.

His Neal Caffrey was gone. The clouds got him and swallowed him whole. The sun got him and vaporized his wings.

The doctors said he shouldn't outright say Neal was living in a delusion, even though that's exactly what Peter wanted to say. It made Neal become violent and Peter couldn't picture that. Neal was always against violence. He always ran rather than fight.

But he did drop clues in his every word, just like Neal did. Neal was smart and could easily glue them together; the only problem was he didn't want to.

Neal Caffrey. That alias was burned, and now he was Victor Monroe. There was no place for Peter in Victor's life.

Peter tried to tell him that his dream wasn't real, but he didn't put much heart into it. Would it really be better to awaken Neal only for him to find out his fantasy was never real, that his wings burned when he flew too close to the sun, that he fell into a bird cage with a lost key?

Neal would never have true freedom. Peter supposed it was better for him to live with this false freedom. Neal hit rock bottom when he lost his wings. He never suspected Neal would be one of those people who never recovered and stayed on the ocean floor, drowning.

Peter left in a sad mood. Everyone said he should go even when he wanted to do anything but that. He didn't want to see the lost Neal. He wanted the charming, devious, and confident Neal. They said he'd be able to bring Neal back; he was the only one who could. They said that he made so much progress with their patient. Peter didn't see it.

Neal couldn't handle having his wings clipped, melted to make a simple candlestick. He shattered with regret and guilt. The invincible, poised Neal Caffrey was dead. Peter tried not to let himself become consumed with regret and guilt. Look where that had gotten Neal.

He could say Neal was living the dream. Of course, the price was his freedom and sanity.

Sometimes, Peter wished he could join Neal in his dreamland, that he was worthy enough to at least have his imaginary counterpart there, keeping a keen eye on Neal even if it was all fake. However, he was just a nuisance, a bad memory. Neal wanted to forget him. Peter was never meant to be a part of Neal's fancy dream.

Peter cringed every time he saw a bird take flight, or saw the puffy clouds in the sky, and glared at the sun's fierce light and heat.

The ever-shifting, vaporous clouds were where Neal chose to live, and the solid, sturdy ground was where Peter chose to live.

The end

My knowledge of psychological disorders and laws is lacking, so I'm sorry for any inaccuracies.

The inspiration bug bit me hard after watching As You Were.

Thanks for reading!

Posted: 8-04-11