I know I'm not updating regularly and I apologize. Life sometimes prevents me from doing so. However I haven't abandoned this story or The Book. I'm trying to clean up the documents section on my computer and put them all in neat little folders before I add anymore new ones, but the problem is that there are hundreds of little documents all floating about, some finished and some not, some recent, some really old (like this one if from a year ago). There are White Collar stories, Suits stories and a few other categories. So there may be some really random one-shots posted soon. Anyway, this is an old one, not much too it, I think I just wanted to write some fluff at the time or something. haha!


Untitled - 8/11/11

Peter walked into his dining room carrying two beers. He took a drink from one and handed the other to agent Phillip Kramer as he sat down at the table across from him. The two just drank quietly till Phillip spoke.

"Peter, tell me. Why do you deal with that kid?" He asked.

Peter bit his bottom lip, then clenched his jaw. He took a long sip of his beer before speaking.

"What do you mean?"

Agent Kramer laughed. "Well, I mean Neal is a criminal, convicted felon! The Peter I knew, wouldn't have let someone like that in his home, let alone into his life."

Peter sighed. "People can change Phil. Agents and felons."

"Peter, he can never be like us. He'll never become one of us."

Peter placed his beer on the table and stood up.

"I don't want him to be!"

Agent Kramer furrowed his brow.

"What do you mean? You've been trying to get him to do right by the law, see things your way."

"Yeah. I'm trying to get him right with the law, not be the law." Peter replied. When Agent Kramer looked at him with a confused expression, Peter continued.

"I remember taking him to an art museum a few months after he watched his girlfriend, Kate, die right in front of him. I thought it would do him some good. Anyway, we get there and he's walking in front of me, saying more while we are there than he had said in the last month. He's talking about artists, histories and dropping hints about stolen paintings, but nothing incriminating of course." Peter laughed, then continued. "I'm not really paying attention, though. I'm busy watching him like a hawk, making sure he doesn't try anything, but the more I watch him the less I start worrying about him stealing anything." Peter paused a minute, staring at the couch, then turned back around to Phil.

"It was like we were back in time, before Kate died. He stood up straight. He walked with his normal spring in his step. His eyes, they just lit up the moment we walked inside the museum. He talked so fast, with such enthusiasm, it was hard to keep up. All it took was taking him to an art exhibit, and he was in another world, his world where everything was okay for him, where he was okay."

"Peter, why are you telling me this?" Kramer asked.

"If Neal became like us, he would lose that world. He would lose who he really is. He wouldn't be Neal Caffrey anymore. I don't want that."

Kramer was surprised.

"Oh come on, Peter! You mean to tell me you want Neal to stay the same conning, devious, lying kid that he is? I know you, Peter. That's not you."

"You're right. I don't want want him to con or lie anymore." Peter said.

Agent Kramer smiled. "See."

"But you're wrong too." Peter said, turning to look at his couch, where Neal was sleeping. Elizabeth walked into the living room and briefly shared a small, worried smile with him before turning her attention to Neal. Peter watched her feel Neal's forehead for a temperature and check his stitches. He, then turned back to Phil.

"You don't know me." His voice was angry, and low. "Not anymore."

Kramer chuckled uncomfortably and waited for Peter to continue.

"When you were my mentor, I would have done anything to get the job done. Nothing mattered except the case, the job. I just wanted to close cases, impress you."

"And you don't want to do those thing now?" Kramer asked.

"No. Because now I have a family. A family that means more to me than my job. I still want to close cases. I still want to get the job done. The only difference is that now I don't do irrational things to get the job done. I'm not bending over backwards to impress anybody anymore."

"That's understandable, Peter. You're not a rookie anymore. So how do I not know you?"

Peter stepped closer. Kramer sat in his chair looking up at him.

"Because, you thought that I would be okay with you dangling Neal like a worm on a hook in front Vega, just so we could catch the guy."

"Burke, I didn't throw him out like bait. We were right there, backing him up. We had agents all over the place!"

"Yeah?! And how did that work out?" Peter asked, but agent Kramer didn't respond.

"If you had really been backing him up, he wouldn't be lying on my couch with seventy-three stitches, an infection and a broken arm."

"Peter. You act like we lost him! You act like he's an agent, for crying out loud!"

Peter clenched his fists and stared at Kramer for a few seconds.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Peter pronounced the question slow, anger drenching his words.

"He's a criminal, Peter. He's just like the guys we were trying to catch-"

"Neal isn't a murderer. He doesn't torture people. He doesn't kidnap them. He's nothing like Vega."

"But he's a criminal, a consultant at most. He's not an agent-"

Peter cut him off.

"He's not expendable, Kramer."

"Peter, listen-"

"No." Peter once again cut him off. Now towering over Kramer, pointing a finger at the man who use to be his mentor. "You listen. I use to look up to you. I respected you. I became the agent I wanted to be, because of you. You were like a second father to me when I first started out. While Neal may be a convicted felon for bond forgery, he's still my consultant, my partner. And like you did for me, I'm trying to mentor him and guide him. You want to know why I deal with him? He's my family, whether you agree with it or not, and I'll be damned if I stand aside and let you toss him around like a puppet."

Kramer picked up his beer and drank the last few sips. He sat the bottle down on the table and stood up.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Peter." He said as he walked to the door. He looked at Peter one last time and left.

Peter sighed heavily, running his hands over his face. He then turned his attention to his wife who was running her hand through Neal's hair softly speaking to him, but Peter couldn't hear her.

He walked over to the couch and sat down carefully on the edge. He looked at Neal for a moment, taking in the ex-conman's battered, almost unrecognizable face, then turned his attention to his wife.

"I did the right thing, right?" He asked.

She gave a small smile, her hand never leaving Neal's hair, but with the other she touched the side of her husband's face.

"What does your gut tell you?" She asked.

Peter sighed and looked back at Neal.

"That I did the right thing."

Peter confirmed as he gently patted Neal's leg.

"Is he okay?"

"Yeah, his fever is still at 101, but he's sleeping better than earlier. I'll need to wake him up so he can take his medicine though." Elizabeth answered, twisting one of Neal's dark curls between her fingers.

Peter watched her for a second, a smile spreading across his face as her watched the paternal affection unfold.

"You go get his medicine and I'll wake him up." Peter said.

Elizabeth looked at him in understanding, then stood up, kissed Peter's cheek and left.

"Neal." Peter called, laying a hand on Neal's less bruised shoulder. "Neal. Wake up, buddy."

The younger man's eyes fluttered open and he shivered due to the fever and curled up underneath the blanket that was covering him.

"Peter?"

"Yeah it's me. You have to take your medicine." Peter stated as he watched Neal look around the room.

"Where's agent Kramer?"

"He left." Peter answered and sighed. "Neal...I'm sorry. I didn't know-"

"It's ok, Peter." Neal cut him off. "It wasn't your fault and agent Kramer was just doing his job. We had to catch Vega somehow and I didn't have to sit in the van. Although, the ride to the hospital wasn't any better. I'd probably pick the van over that, but whatever." Neal babbled, probably due to his fever and the medicine he was on.

"Neal." Peter stopped him. "What Kramer did... that wasn't right. I would never..."

"I know, Peter. You wouldn't do that to me." Neal smiled at him, a goofy, almost high expression on his face.

"You're right. I wouldn't."

"But that's why I don't care, you know."

"What do you mean?" Peter asked, thinking Neal's fever now had him talking out of his head.

"I don't care if I'm put out as bait."

Peter sighed, guilt twisting his stomach.

"Why's that, Neal?"

Neal waited a moment, his eyes closed leading Peter to believe he'd fallen back asleep.

"Because the fish will try to bite, some may even get a piece, but you'll always reel me back in, always get me out of the water." Neal explained. "Just like I'd do for you."

The younger man didn't open his eyes and Peter didn't respond.

"So was your gut right?" Elizabeth asked, now standing behind him, her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her head resting against his. They both stared down at the young criminal that had easily became a member of their small family, before Peter answered her.

"Definitely."


AN: Again it was written over a year ago...not much meat to it...just fluff. Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think