Chapter Twenty Five: Confrontation

Neal did not sleep well through the night; in fact he did not sleep at all. He tried to chase off his disquieting thoughts of keeping yet another secret from Peter, and the fact that Peter's father had made it perfectly clear how he felt about Neal.

Neal wondered if Peter's mother, Carla, felt the same. Did she also distrust him? She acted like she trusted Peter, thus she trusted anyone Peter trusted. She seemed genuinely concerned about him yesterday, when she cared for his wounds. She was kind; she was the type of mother Neal use to dream of having. One that held you when you cried, sang to you when you were scared. His own mother was so lost in her own sorrow, she had just about forgotten how to be a mother. When she did try to be a mother to Neal, it was a half-hearted effort. She was depressed, and she locked herself in her room night after night, leaving Neal alone to care for his own needs. Carla would never do that. She was not that type of mother.

It's almost painful how long the night seems to last when sleep evades you. With every hour that passes on the clock you feel more tired, yet more awake. Neal had dealt with sleepless nights plenty; most of them were in prison. The fears you face in there are enough to keep most people awake the rest of their lives. But that was another terrifying portion of his life. He shook his head in his efforts to dispel the painful memories. He didn't need his head to go there, not now. Not even Peter knew of the things he had faced in prison.

He heard noises, stirring in the house, indicating he was no longer the only one awake. It sounded like Carla and El were cheerfully chatting away in the kitchen. He could smell the aroma of bacon in the air; they must be preparing breakfast. Suddenly there was a rap on the bedroom door. Neal hesitated to reply for fear it would be John, there to once again declare his extreme distaste for Neal. But he heard Peter's voice call out from the other side of the door. "Neal, rise and shine, bud. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes."

Neal smiled in relief that it was Peter and not John. "Okay, I'll be right out." He heard footsteps descend down the hall as Peter left his door.

He stood from the bed and pulled a pair of blue jeans from his bag. After he was dressed he took in a deep breath and stopped just in front of the dresser mirror. He looked at himself; at the moment there was no fake smile, no facade that all was perfect in Neal Caffrey's world. But suddenly he forced the smile he was so well-known for. The smile he had mastered, the illusion of perfection. And there he was again, the charming and flawless con man. That was, after all, what John saw in him, right?

He left the guest bedroom and made his way down the hall and into the kitchen. Elizabeth was laughing as she chopped and diced onions and peppers. Carla was standing over the stove flipping pancakes as she enthusiastically relayed a story about Peter as a child. Peter was sitting at the kitchen table; he looked embarrassed, and sheepishly looked down at the ground, smiling, as he listened to his mother share the story. John was sitting next to him, laughing as well. But the second he made eye contact with Neal his laughter began to die out. Neal held his debonair smile however. He would not let John break him; he had stood strong against hardened criminals in prison, murderers, thieves, and rapists—what did John have over them?

Neal casually walked to the table and eased down into the chair across from Peter and John,his smile never faltering. Peter grinned and looked up at Neal but he realized something was different. He had learned his brother, and he knew every smile Neal possessed; he knew when Neal sported a fake smile. And he had not seen this one in a long time. It disturbed him, because it only meant one thing: Neal was hiding something.

Peter's smile weakened to a half grin. Suddenly his mother's storytelling drifted to the back of his mind. He studied Neal; he watched him put on this show of an unblemished persona.

Neal could feel Peter's staring eyes upon him. He knew Peter was onto something. There was only one person in his life he was never able to fool, and that was Peter. So the next best thing for him to do was fool himself into thinking he had fooled Peter.

They ate breakfast and talked about Peter and El's courtship mostly, Peter always keeping a close watch on his brother. Observing him with painstaking detail. But he began to realize that Neal seemed to be casually avoiding John. That struck him as odd. He began to cast his close observations now to his father, watching his interactions, if any, with Neal.

After a few hours Peter decided it was time to confront Neal about his suspicions. He walked over to Neal who was standing at the back door looking out into the field. He stood next to him and placed his hand on Neal's shoulder. "Let's talk."

Neal felt the firm grip on his shoulder; he knew Peter had been watching him all morning. He knew Peter was about to grill him about what was going on. He decided he would not let that happen. So he tried to charm his way out. "Peter, there is plenty of time for you and me to talk. Let's not be rude. You should be talking with your parents now."

"Nice try, Neal. We need to talk." Peter squeezed harder on Neal's shoulder, illustrating his determination to not let this go.

Neal smiled then gently swept Peter's hand off of his shoulder. "Peter, we'll talk later."

Neal turned to leave, but Peter swiftly reached out and grabbed Neal by his arm. "No, we'll talk now." He pulled Neal in the direction of the guest bedroom.

Neal instantly felt the firm grip and realized quickly he was not getting out of this. He complied and allowed Peter to direct him into the guest bedroom.

Once they wh=ere both inside, Peter closed the door behind him and Neal. He turned and faced Neal. "What's going on?"

"What are you talking about?" Neal sounded baffled.

"Cut the crap Neal, you know exactly what I'm talking about. I know you better than anyone, and I know when something is bothering you. What are you hiding?"

Neal smiled. "Peter, it's not a big deal. Really, it's nothing you need to worry about." His fake smile suddenly weakened and his true smile began to shine through.

Peter liked seeing Neal's real smile. There was a sense of honesty in that smile. "If it concerns you, then it concerns me. Now out with it."

Neal shook his head then stepped to the side of Peter. He extended his hand to reach for the doorknob in his attempt to leave as he replied, "Peter, I appreciate your concern, but it's really not that important."

Peter quickly pressed his hand into the center of Neal's chest and shoved him backwards. The force was hard enough that Neal was plunged back, falling onto the bed behind him. He tried to push himself back up but Peter was instantly sitting on top of him. "What the crap, Peter?" Neal protested.

Peter gripped Neal by his arm and twisted him around until he was laying on his stomach with his arm pulled behind his back. Peter firmly held Neal's wrist behind his back, then leaned down and smiled. "Say uncle."

Neal chuckled when he heard those words. "Are you serious?"

"Say uncle."

"No." Neal was surprised at the abrupt invasion of his space, but it was somewhat humorous. No one had ever wrestled him to a bed then demanded "Say uncle" to him.

"Say uncle, or else," Peter threatened. A short laugh cracked his voice.

"Or else what?" Neal jeered back, calling Peter on his threat. His face was pressed into the mattress. Peter had a knee on each side of Neal, holding him securely in place. Neal felt completely immobilized but it was more funny than threatening. Neal was trying to restrain the laughter that wanted to burst out. It was quite a sight.

Peter tightened his grip on Neal's wrist then used his other hand and slid it down to Neal's side. He began to dig his fingers into his ribcage, forcing Neal to squirm more. Neal was unable to hold the laughter anymore and it erupted from his mouth. "St … stop." He tried to get the word through the laughter.

Suddenly the door opened and Elizabeth was standing there with a concerned look on her face. Peter looked back at her, still not relinquishing his hold on his brother. Elizabeth began to laugh when she saw the two. "How old are you two?" She chuckled as she watched them.

Peter was also laughing; he continued to dig his fingers between his ribs, ignoring his wife. "Say uncle."

Neal tried to hold out longer; he attempted to get free from Peter's grasp but it was useless. Peter had a death grip on him. "Okay, uncle, uncle," Neal shouted.

Peter released his grip on Neal's wrist and stood from the bed, freeing Neal.

Neal, still trying to control his laughter and catch his breath, sat up on the bed. "I cannot believe you just did that."

"Well, I never got to do that to you as a kid so why not now." Peter smiled, then sat down on the bed beside him.

Elizabeth laughed; they both looked at her. "You two fell into this brother thing so easily."

Peter chuckled. "What makes you say that?"

"Because you would never have held Neal down to tickle him as just your CI." She smiled as she turned to leave the room.

Peter raised his eyebrows and then looked at Neal who was still breathing heavily. "True, I don't think I would have done that before."

Neal leaned forward and ran his fingers through his hair. "Well, there is something I would never have done before either."

Peter glanced over at Neal, "Oh yeah, what's that?"

"This." Suddenly Neal was launching himself through the air and on top of Peter, shoving him down against the bed; his finger went into his mouth, coating it in wet saliva, and he quickly stuck the wet finger into Peter's ear. "Wet willy," he proudly exclaimed.

"That's sick." Peter shoved Neal off and immediately brought the tail of his shirt up to wipe the moisture away from his ear. "No one has ever given me one of those."

Neal smiled. "Well no one has ever held me down and tickled me. So I guess we're even."

Peter smiled. "Touché."

He shifted himself to sit on the edge of the bed once again, then he patted Neal on the back. "Since we're on the subject of doing things we normally would not have done had we not found out we were brothers, how about you tell me what's going on with you, without me having to drag it out or find out from someone else?"

Neal's smile faded. He sat quietly as he thought about Peter's request. Did he really want to tell him? It could mean causing a rift between Peter and John. He didn't want to be the cause of that. But then as he thought more about it, he realized it was John causing the rift, not him. John was the one that requested Neal keep their conversation quiet. And Peter was now requesting Neal come clean. Logic would say you honor the one your respect most. In this case it was Peter who Neal respected. Neal felt he owed it to Peter to be truthful with him. They always had such an issue with trust in the past; keeping this could lengthen that history.

Neal inhaled deeply and slowly. His arms rested on his knees, and his fingers laced together. As he exhaled he stared down at the floor. "Your father doesn't exactly like me."

Peter frowned and he leaned forward trying to see Neal's eyes. "Why, what happened?" Neal did not reply so Peter pressed the question. "Neal, what happened?"

"John came into the room last night and told me he didn't trust me, and he didn't want me to be a part of your and El's life. He also told me I was not welcome in his home after this visit."

Peter clenched his fist and his teeth ground against each other. "I can't believe him," he uttered under his breath.

Neal sat up and looked at Peter. "Peter, it's okay. He just thinks once a con, always a con, you know. There was once a time when you felt the same way, Peter. In reality he has good reason not to trust me."

Peter shook his head. "No, he has no right to go behind my back like that."

Neal looked back down at the floor and sighed. "I don't know, Peter. Maybe he's right; I am what I am, you know. A criminal."

"No, he's not. Look at me, Neal." Peter gently placed a hand on Neal's chin and turned his head to face him. "We are not defined by our past; we are defined by our present. The life you are living now is what makes you the man you are. And you're a good man, Neal. I couldn't be more proud of you. My father is wrong. And if he doesn't figure that out soon, he's the one that's missing out."

Neal smiled. "You're really proud of me?"

Peter mirrored the smile. "More than you could ever know."

"Thanks, Peter. That means a lot."

Peter patted Neal on the back then gently squeezed his shoulder. "I need to take care of something. You get ready for that class reunion. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Peter stood to leave but Neal reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him. "You're going to talk to John about this, aren't you?"

"I am."

"Don't, just let this one slide, please."

"I can't do that, Neal. He caused this problem, and it's time he faces the music."

Neal sighed then released his hold on Peter's arm.

Peter walked into the kitchen where Elizabeth and Carla were now preparing lunch. John was sitting at the kitchen table looking through a construction magazine. Peter thought about talking to him in private, but he was angry. He wanted his mother and El to hear what he had done behind Peter's back. He wanted them to be witnesses to his reply and his assuredly weak defense.

He spoke in a low even tone. Peter's voice often sounded much more threatening that way, than if he were to raise his voice in anger. "How could you. I told you to stay out of it."

Carla and Elizabeth could hear the anger in his voice. They both stopped their kitchen duties instantly, and turned to look at Peter, who was now standing beside his father, looking down at him.

John slowly stood to his feet to be eye level with his son. "I told you how I felt about him, and you ignored me."

"And I told you he was my brother and you needed to get over it."

Carla and Elizabeth had both gradually made their way into the dining area and were watching the two men confront each other. Carla frowned, "Peter, John, what is going on with you two?"

Peter turned his head to look at his mother then back at his father. "Dad decided to tell Neal last night he was not welcome in this house."

"What, John, why would you do that?" Carla gasped in complete shock.

"He's a criminal, Carla. He's a con man, and he's conning our son. I don't trust him, and no, Peter, he is not welcome here."

Peter took in a deep breath and pursed his lips. "If he is not welcome, than neither am I."

"No, Peter, he doesn't mean that. John, tell Peter you're sorry," Carla pleaded with her husband.

John puffed out his chest and felt determined to hold to his stubborn decision. "How dare you request me to open my home to a criminal."

"I asked you to open your home to my brother. But if you reject him, you reject me." Peter turned to Elizabeth and his mother. "Mom, I'm sorry, but this is Dad's fault. El, hon, if you can get our stuff ready to go, as soon as I get back from my class reunion we're going home."

Peter turned back to his father and frowned. "You have no idea what you're missing out on. Neal is a great kid. I feel sorry for you, Dad, I really do. Because you have no clue how bad you screwed up."

"Don't place the blame on me, son. You're the one who brought a thief into my home."

Carla felt a tear plunging from her eye; her son was about to leave on bad terms with his father. John was being stubborn and unyielding as always. "John Burke, how could you say that? Neal is Peter's only blood relative. How could you deny him that? You are not the man I married. The man I married always gave people the benefit of the doubt."

Peter turned and walked back into the hallway. Carla felt a panic fall over her when she saw her son's determined look that he would leave. "John, don't do this. You will regret this. Don't let him leave like this. Please, John, give Neal a chance."

John took in a deep breath and turned and exited the house through the back door.

Elizabeth was still in shock; she looked at her teary-eyed mother-in-law. "Carla, I am so sorry. But I'm with Peter on this. Neal is a part of our family now, and if John refuses to accept that, then whatever Peter decides to do, I will support him." She reached out and took Carla's hand gently in her own. "But you are always welcome in our home."

Carla patted Elizabeth's hand and looked longingly out the window at her husband who was walking down towards the horse barn. "I know, dear. I know. And I am so sorry for you, too. I actually like Neal. I think he is charming. And I am happy Peter found his brother. I just wish John would see things my way."

"Maybe he will come around in time," Elizabeth tried to reassure her.

"I don't think that will happen. When John sets his mind to something, not even the grace of God can change it."

Elizabeth wrapped her arms around Carla, pulling her in for a comforting hug. "I'll talk to Peter. Maybe he will reconsider."

Carla sobbed into Elizabeth's shoulder. "I doubt he will, but thank you, dear."