Disclaimer: I do not own any of the White Collar characters.

AN: Any and all mistakes are completely my own.

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Secrets of the Past

Chapter 11

Peter gently knocked on the door of Neal's apartment. He didn't even know if the young Caffrey was home. Then again, it was June who had called him to tell him Neal hadn't left his apartment in days.

There was no answer and Peter sighed. He truly had hoped Neal would invite him in, but perhaps that was a little too much to hope for. Pushing open the door, Peter slowly stepped inside. He let his gaze slide over everything inside. For a moment, he had expected everything to be a mess, but it was very much the opposite.

Everything was clean, almost too clean.

"Neal?" Peter walked towards the table where a stack of old newspapers lay. "It's Peter."

Neal came in from the balcony. He was still wearing his bathrobe even though it was already late in the afternoon. Peter had wanted to stop by earlier, but his work hadn't allowed it.

"You look," Peter examined every detail of his friend, "well."

There truly was no other word for it. Neal was cleanly shaven and his hair was still damp from a shower presumably. A smile played around his lips and his eyes flickered.

"Thank you," Neal chuckled, "you look good, too."

Peter couldn't help but shrug. He looked like his usual self and it was no secret that Neal didn't much like his style of dressing. Rubbing his hand over his cheek, he even noticed that he desperately needed a shave. Why was it that the man who had just lost his father looked better than him?

Forgetting those thoughts, Peter focused on the true reason why he was here. "June called me," he said, "she is worried about you."

Neal smiled. "She's such a lovely woman." He walked towards the table and let himself drop down on a chair. Pulling the newspaper that lay on top of the pile, he looked up to meet Peter's eyes. "There is not reason to worry about me, though."

If Peter hadn't known Neal at all, he would have actually believed him. Of course, this was a con man and lying was his job. Peter pulled a chair from underneath the table and sat down as well.

"You don't have to lie to me, Neal," Peter said, watching how Neal was reading an article. Or at least he was pretending to read it.

Neal let the newspaper down just a little so that he could look at Peter. "Truly, I'm alright."

"So no hard feelings about William?" Peter asked, "about Daniel?"

Neal lifted the newspaper again, pulling himself away from the FBI agent's gaze. "Nope, not at all."

"This isn't healthy," Peter sighed, leaning forward as his elbows rested on the table, "denying-"

"I'm not denying anything," Neal said from behind his paper.

Peter slammed his hand down on the table. He was surprised himself that he had done so, but Neal appeared even more surprised. His newspaper dropped out of his hands and his eyes were filled with shock.

"I'm sorry," Peter apologized, "I shouldn't have done that."

Neal only swallowed heavily. He had never seen the FBI agent like this before and it was clear that he didn't know how to handle him like this.

"This is just not the way to handle things, Neal," Peter was surprised to hear his own voice this soft, "you're denying everything that has happened, everything that you feel and it is not healthy."

"Since when do you talk about emotions?" Neal asked, trying to keep the mood light.

"Since El said I had to," Peter shrugged, a smirk playing around the corners of his lips. "She is right, though," he turned serious again, looking into Neal's eyes, "you have to talk about this."

"There is nothing to talk about," Neal said, serious as well, "my father's dead and Daniel is gone. It's all over, Peter, and I don't want to dwell on this for too long."

"Because you might actually feel something?"

Neal bended forward, picking up the fallen newspaper from the floor and placing it back onto the pile. He sighed deeply, not looking at Peter. "Yes," he admitted, "because what is the point? Will it change anything?"

"No," Peter said, "but you might actually start feeling better after a while."

"Who says I don't feel good right now?" Neal asked. He leaned back into his chair and look at Peter again. Folding his hands into his lap, Neal took in a deep breath.

Peter couldn't help but think how fragile and small the young con artist must feel right now. For one, Neal wasn't used to talking about his emotions and certainly not with an FBI agent. "What do you feel right now?" he asked.

Neal frowned, not understanding what this was going to achieve.

"Well?" Peter asked.

"I..." Neal thought deeply about the question, "empty."

"Empty?" Peter had expected a lot of answers, but this wasn't one of them. How was he supposed to understand what 'empty' meant?

"Like nothings means anything anymore," Neal explained, his voice soft, "I mean nothing anymore because now I know."

"Why would you think such a thing?" Peter truly was trying to understand, but it was very difficult.

"Who I am, what I do, or rather did," Neal bit his lip, "it wasn't me. Daniel taught me everything, he wanted me to be this person because it was who he once was. Who am I then? Who am I truly hadn't it been for Daniel?"

Peter closed his eyes for a second. "I don't know," he admitted.

"I might have had a family," Neal sighed, "a wife and children. I might have studied at a university and gotten an actual degree and not one that I faked. I could have had a big house and friends that don't have a criminal record."

"Is that what you want?" Peter asked.

Neal cast his gaze down, not being able to look into Peter's eyes. "That's just it," Neal's voice shook, "I don't know what I want. And what I do want, is only so because it's what Daniel wanted."

"That's not true," Peter quickly said.

"I want to forge paintings," Neal looked up, his gaze sad and angry at the same time, "I want to steal ancient artifacts that are locked in vaults and are highly risky to get because that is what thrills me. I want to steal expensive coins and sell them to the highest bidder because that is the life that I know."

Peter was lost for words. He only wished El was here because she would have known what to say to this. Even Mozzie might have had a decent answer. Peter could only awkwardly gaze at the young con man.

"It's like a drug, you know," Neal told him, "forging things, I mean. Once you pulled off a decent heist, you want to do another one because that is what gets your adrenaline up, because that's the only way that you feel thrilled about something." He sighed deeply. "I feel as if Daniel got me addicted to something, but I don't want to withdraw from it."

Peter could only nod as he tried to wrap his head around this.

"I want to be mad," Neal said, looking into Peter's eyes, "I want to be furious and yell and kick and scream! I'm not, though. I feel...calm. Sad too, because I did just lose my father."

"You're not mad at Daniel?" Peter needed to hear Neal say those actual words.

"I've spent my whole life being mad at him," Neal explained, "I dreamed about getting back at him for hurting me, for having put me through all this. It doesn't matter anymore, though, because there is no point to it."

There was a short silence.

"I'll only feel miserable," Neal stood up from his chair, "I don't want that."

Peter followed Neal's example and stood up as well. "I'm truly sorry for your loss," he said, "you had just gotten your father back."

"I'm sorry, too," Neal said, "and it's strange knowing that I won't see him again." he ran his fingers through his hair. "I do feel sad," he admitted, "I do wish he was still alive, but I don't feel anger or rage towards Daniel."

Peter nodded his head. There was truly nothing else he could say or do. It seemed Neal was telling him the truth. Could it truly be that he was handling it this well?

"I need time," Neal continued talking, "like all who have lost a parent."

"You can come back when you're ready," Peter said, "but promise me that you'll take your time."

A soft smile played around the lips of the young con artist's lips. "I will," he said, "thank you for coming."

"You have my number," Peter said, "you can call me any time."

"I know," Neal's smile had grown wider.

Peter sighed with relief. It seemed his friend would truly be okay. Perhaps he was stronger than he originally appeared. Looking at Neal, Peter couldn't help but feel proud. Considering everything that had happened, the young Caffrey was still standing.

"You sure you're gonna be okay?" He simply needed to ask him this.

Neal nodded. "In time," he said, "yes."

Peter smiled. "Then I'm looking forward to having you back," he spoke sincerely, "it's not quiet the same without you at work."

"Dull?" Neal asked.

Peter chuckled. "Something like that."

-o-o-

The End

-o-o-

AN: It has ended. It might appear abrupt, but this story feels done to me. I have always wanted to focus on the events that took place in the previous chapters (the arrival of William, the truth about Daniel, William's death,...) and not on the aftermath. I just don't feel like I have what it takes to write down the emotions that belong to Neal. I imagine it is difficult and he still has a long road ahead of fully recovering, but he'll get there eventually.

I wanted to end on a light note, however, and so this chapter is solely between Neal and Peter. I know it started out heavy, but the end was softer. I hope you guys enjoyed this story and I truly hope that one day, I come up with a new one.

Thanks for having stuck with this one!