The Thinnest Strand

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Neal, or Peter or any rights to White Collar, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Author's Note: Not sure how this chapter turned out. I kept rewriting it but I think this is as good as I can get it. Hope it's ok.

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Chapter 4: Motel

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Elizabeth Burke hadn't thought that she would ever step into a motel like this one. It just came to show the unexpected places love took you. As she made her way down the dingy carpet, through the corridor of stained walls, she still didn't know what she would say once she got to that door and knocked.

Before, she would have known. Her words would have been firm, clear. But not now, not after he wasn't at June's. Moved out, hasn't called, tried to tell me his boss ordered him to cut the ties with me but I know better…June had tried to say the words without her heartbreak slipping out but had been unsuccessful. Nor could she keep her eyes from welling, that one tear from slipping free, causing Elizabeth to reach for her hand and give it a squeeze.

If anyone knew what it was like to suddenly find your life bereave of Neal Caffrey and come to the sharp knowledge of just how much your life was what it was because of him….she did. Peter did.

But there had been more that she didn't know, like Mozzie's marked absence. Not just around June's home, in Neal's life. Caffrey's eccentric but fervently loyal accomplice had apparently picked up and moved on. Left New York and his best friend behind. A month ago. Right before Keller kidnapped her, changed everything, hurt everyone that she cared about. Hurt her family, as incongruent as the honorary members seemed to be.

Neal had told June that Mozzie wasn't coming back. Elizabeth hadn't needed June to tell her how anguished Neal's declaration of that fact would have been. She had heard that tone from the man before: when he rescued her, knelt down beside her and gently freed her of the cuffs Keller had put her in, quietly said, "I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I never meant for you to be in danger, get hurt," before handing her a phone, a phone that was already ringing. Then her husband's voice was there but harsher, crueler than she had ever heard it, "Caffrey, we have nothing to talk about unless you know where…."

"Peter, it's me. I'm Ok," she had cut it, hadn't wanted to hear the rest, didn't need to.

Shaking off the memories, Elizabeth came to a stop in front of the door of the room the front desk had directed her to. But she still didn't know what she would say. She had thought she knew how to get through to Neal, but that was the charming, self-confident con man. Not the man who had walked out on June, had tried to give back the suits he wore with such pleasure, the man who no longer schemed with Mozzie, or even tried to win Peter's loyalty back. That Neal… she didn't know.

Hand raised, hovering over the door, she took in a shaking breath. Though Neal hadn't had Peter or her in his life for the past month, she had comforted herself that he wasn't alone, had June, would always have Mozzie. But he had had no one, had been alone. And yes, some of the solitude was of his own choosing, but most of it wasn't. No, the people that he trusted the most, they had left him, weren't there, were gone. Had given him little hope that they would be coming back, ever.

And Elizabeth knew Neal well enough to know that the young man would believe that Peter, Mozzie, and ever herself, they were right to leave. That he deserved to be alone, didn't even deserve the loyalty that had remained: June's.

With the resounding thought of 'Well, he's wrong and I'm going to make him realize that' humming through her, she knocked on the door to room #12 and waited.

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At the knock, Neal tensed, put his book down and came out of his chair but made no move toward the door. These days, he didn't have any friends to drop in for a visit. "Who is it?" he demanded, suddenly wondering why he had chosen a room that didn't have a second way out.

"Elizabeth….Burke," she clarified a second later like Neal might have forgotten the sound of her voice, had a slew of other women named that who would have tracked him down to this desolate motel within his two mile radius.

Though shocked by the identity of his visitor, he couldn't hold back the contemptuous 'Oh great. My 2nd Burke encounter of the day,' that came to him as he quickly crossed to the door.

Shouting between a couple down the hall snatched Elizabeth's attention as the door opened and Neal demanded, "What are you doing here?" his worry for her safety making his words sharp.

"I came here …" Elizabeth began as she abandoned her fascination with the happenings down the hallway, turned to face the man she had come to see. Her first look of Neal since the warehouse where Keller had kept her hostage, had her exclaiming in shock and concern, "Oh my gosh, Neal! What happened?" hand reaching out toward his bruised, lacerated face. Her fingers had barely skimmed gently over his cheek before Neal skittered back out of her reach.

Unprepared for Elizabeth's actions, for her to offer him a touch of tenderness instead of retribution, Neal retreated back another step, couldn't let her get that close again. Couldn't let anyone get that close again. It only ended badly. For everyone.

"You shouldn't be here," he accused, the quietness of the statement taking some of the sting out of it. He couldn't be rough with Elizabeth, but he could be distant. "Peter certainly wouldn't want you here," he lambasted, stance tensing and his eyes darkening at the thought of what Peter would think, what Peter would do if he knew his wife was talking to him.

Shaken by Neal's abused appearance, hurt a bit by his rejection of her touch, intimidated by the hardness in the usually charming man's words, Elizabeth stammered, " I…I went to June's…. " But she finished strongly, wasn't going to run away, not before she said her peace. "I needed to see you."

"You have to go. I'll walk you out," Neal briskly returned, hated to think of the woman being unprotected in their present, less than safe surroundings. But Elizabeth stepped more fully into the doorway, cut off his exit from the room.

"Well, I'm not leaving before we talk, so are you going to let me in?" Elizabeth put out her ultimatum and prayed Neal didn't shut the door in her face.

"If this is about what happened today…." Neal began, didn't want to rehash his go around with Peter.

"What happened today? Did that?" she carefully asked, pointed to the bruises on his face but making no move to touch him again.

Realizing that Elizabeth hadn't come because of the encounter he had with Peter, didn't even know about it, Neal couldn't help but be curious as to why she was there. Opening the door in an unspoken invitation, he turned away from Elizabeth, paced to the other side of the room. With his back to Elizabeth he closed his eyes, willed himself to keep it together, to not let his mask slip, consoled himself with the knowledge that this would probably be the last act on this tour. That after Elizabeth said what she had come to say, he wouldn't have to pretend again, it would be over. All of it.

When Elizabeth didn't break the silence in the room, Neal, figuring that she was waiting for him to face her before she spoke, slowly spun around…only to find the door open and the room empty. "Elizabeth?" he called out in alarm ran the few steps to the door, afraid that his less than savory neighbors had accosted his visitor. His breath rushed back in as he saw Elizabeth, down the hall…. filling an ice bucket?

"Ah, Elizabeth, the only thing I can offer for refreshments is water. Well, now ice water," Neal quipped as she approached, bucket in hand.

"Then it's a good thing I'm not thirsty," Elizabeth replied, slipping by Neal and entering the room. Sitting the bucket on the dresser, she headed for the bathroom.

"Oh, there's no hot water…" he warned but she didn't close the door, barely ran the water a few seconds before she turned around, exited with a one wet and one dry washcloth in hand.

"Sit down, Neal," she instructed, pointing to the sole chair in the room even as she came to a stop at the dresser.

Though he could hear the tumble of ice cubes being deposited into the washcloth, knew what her intentions were, Neal had a hard time believing he was right. That the woman who had been kidnapped, almost killed because of his deception, because of his need for an adrenaline rush, was really going to play nursemaid to him. Cared that he had taken a few punches. Wasn't silently cheering that someone had done what Peter had been too restrained to do.

Makeshift ice compress in hand, Elizabeth turned around, was surprised to find that Neal hadn't moved, was giving her a stricken look. "Come on, take a seat," she gently coaxed, stepping forward and wrapping her delicate but strong hand around his elbow and steering him to the chair.

Taking a seat, more out of numbness than compliance, he flinched when Elizabeth's fingers slid gently under his chin. But the fingers remained and slowly he allowed them to tilt his face up. But after his initial contact with Elizabeth's gaze, he quickly averted his attention to a spot on the stained ceiling, held back his reaction as she tenderly dabbed the wet washcloth against the worst of his lacerations.

Up close, the damage to Neal's face was painfully obvious. She could put two and two together and get that someone's fist had played a part in the bruises and the places where the skin had been sliced open. Anger simmered in her for whoever had inflicted the wounds on the younger man. She had watched Neal take a few punches before, from Keller, when he came to offer his life for hers. And Keller had just laughed.

Forcing those memories aside, she conversationally mentioned, "Peter doesn't usually get too bruised up but he has a time or two," as she moved onto another cut nestled in with a black and blue montage along his jawline, found herself wincing more at her ministrations than Caffrey was.

Neal remained silent, the only indication that he wasn't a statue was the uncontrolled jump in his jaw.

"Can you tell me how this happened?" she gently asked, wished Neal would look at her, wondered if it was because he hated her, that she had, unintentionally, been the cause of his fractured friendship with Peter.

"Lie detector test. Old school," Neal provided with a hint of his usual charm.

"Did you pass or fail?"

Neal's eyes met Elizabeth's as he answered, "If I had failed I wouldn't be here right now."

Elizabeth fought down a shiver, knew Neal wasn't talking about here in the room, meant alive. He would be dead. Her hand trembled and she pulled it back, crossed back over to the dresser. Peter always down played the danger of his job, but she wasn't a fool. 'But I'm naïve,' she criticized, knew that Neal wasn't being overdramatic, was simply too raw to shelter her from the truth like he normally would have.

Neal could have died. They could have decided to use a gun on him instead of their fists. 'And Peter would never get over that. Don't know if I would.'

"You should go," Neal stated to Elizabeth's back, needed her to go before her kindness undid him. "I already ruined my relationship with Peter, you shouldn't put yours at risk too."

And that was where the trouble was. Neal wasn't going to fight for his friendship with Peter, was just writing it off. Was marking it down as another treasure he had had and lost.

Grabbing the makeshift ice compress, Elizabeth headed back to Neal, a Neal that looked so vulnerable that it was hard to not reach out and stroke his hair, tell him things would work out. But she didn't know that. She couldn't make promises that weren't hers to keep. They were Peter's.

Though she pressed the compress lightly against Neal's forehead, he hissed in pain and jerked under her hand.

"I'm sorry!" she sorrowfully apologized, quickly lifting the washcloth away from the wound, and removing her hand from under his chin, hating that she had hurt him more than he already was. 'I wanted to take away some of his pain, not give him more. No wonder he's afraid to let people get close,' she heartbrokenly concluded, and it didn't help that there wasn't condemnation in Neal's eyes as they held hers, was simple acceptance. Pain he understood, expected, trusted.

"Neal," she rawly entreated, wanted to apologize to him, for so many things, for getting kidnapped in the first place, putting the wedge between he and Peter, for not coming sooner to see him, for thinking that talking to him was akin to betraying Peter.

As if sensing her intentions, Neal sharply ordered, "Don't," his hand catching her wrist, pushing it back. And then he stood up, slipped by her, was crossing to the door. Her words stopped him.

"I came because of Peter. Because what's happened between you and Peter is tearing him apart," Elizabeth admitted, though she had also come for reasons of her own. 'And I needed to know if you were alright, could hold out until Peter's anger faded. But you can't, can you?' The answer painfully evident by the bruises on the young man's features even more so by the dispirited ache in Neal's eyes the conman couldn't hide. Abandoning the washcloth to the nightstand and beginning to cross over to Neal, she began, "You two need to talk…"

"We did," Neal quietly claimed. At her surprised look, he pulled on a sad smile. "Mostly we yelled. It was very therapeutic."

"And?" Elizabeth prodded, coming to sit on the end of the bed, eyes fixed on Neal's taut figure, she waited, dared to hope.

Uncomfortable under Elizabeth's gaze, Neal moved around the room. "I don't expect us to cross paths again." Said it like it meant nothing to him, didn't crush the last tendril of hope for Peter's forgiveness that he had foolishly clung to.

"And you think that's what Peter wants?" she gently probed, knew that it wasn't, even if Peter himself didn't recognize it.

"Yeah, yeah I do," Neal defiantly shot back, eyes suddenly meeting hers, daring her to refute it.

"And you think June's glad you left? That Mozzie didn't want you to go with him?" Elizabeth gently stated with incredulousness.

A look of alarm flittered across Neal's features at Elizabeth's mention of Mozzie.

Interpreting his panic, Elizabeth stood up and came to Neal, looked up into his eyes and evenly conjectured, "You could have gone with him. He wanted you to, didn't he? Why didn't you go?"

"I don't know what you're talking about…" Neal denied, was ready to slip by Elizabeth but she grabbed his forearm, forestalled his escape. That didn't mean he had to look at her.

"You stayed because of Peter. Because you have a home here, a family," she surmised as much as declared, needed Neal to admit what he had stayed for, what he hadn't been willing to give up. Needed him to fight for what was his, what he hadn't stolen but he had earned from Peter as well as from her: their trust, their loyalty, their love.

But Neal didn't answer. Instead he pulled his arm from her grasp and walked to the door. "I'll walk you to your car."

Defeated, Elizabeth numbly grabbed her purse and walked out the door. Silently they maneuvered down the hallway and out to the parking lot, came to a stop by her car. But when Neal opened the driver's door for her, Elizabeth felt fear and dread take hold of her heart. Couldn't help but wonder if this would be the last time she saw Neal Caffrey.

Instead of getting into the car, Elizabeth rashly stepped forward and hugged Neal, hard. And how she wished that she knew how to ensure he didn't slip away from her, from Peter, from the family they had unknowingly forged three years ago.

Slowly, Neal's arms circled her, gently returned her hug.

"You're not alone, Neal," she vowed, wished she could promise more: that Peter would forgive him, that things would be as they once were, that everything that he had stayed for, it would be there for him again someday. Then she released Neal, got in the car and pulled away. But she didn't look in the rearview mirror, could barely see through her tears to drive. She and Peter had so little family left, had thought that some of what they had lost had been returned to them when Neal came into their lives. And now they were losing him, no, worse than that, they were letting him go.

Swallowing convulsively, Neal watched Elizabeth drive away, knew that she was wrong.

He was very, very alone.

He had bet everything on a gamble and lost more than he could afford to lose. Had thought that he could change, could become worthy of Peter's loyalty and faith in him.

But like Keller had said, there was nothing more pathetic than a con-man conning himself.

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TBC

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Thanks for reading and for the wonderful encouraging reviews on last chapter!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.