Menagerie - A collection of Short Stories and Drabbles in the world of White Collar. (I don't own anything but I do like playing with the characters when I can.)

Drabbles #35 - Out of Sight (WIP)

(friendship, hurt/comfort, SCI-FI, AU, spoilers for all seasons)

oOoOoOo

Neal didn't care anymore, slumping down onto the park bench as he leaned back and stared up at the canopy of trees overhead. It had been a month since the case had been closed and nobody was the same, investigations into what went wrong flying around but he was safe for now. Hughes, Diana and Jones had promised to take over where Peter had left off until something could be planned or made permanent on Neal's situation. The agent was gone, plain and simple and for now, he was out of prison and miserable. He wiped at his face tiredly, a bit of scruff there that he hadn't shaved for the past few weeks matching the not so fancy clothes he wore: a pair of beat up jeans he only used for painting and an old grungy black tee. It wasn't like him to dress down like this in public but again, why should he care. The only person who'd ever truly believed in him was gone and he'd finally dragged himself out into the daylight to deal with it. Neal curled up on the bench, eyes watching him but not from people passing by but an agent not so far away pretending to NOT be watching him. He still had his 2 mile radius for now but his future was up in the air. Peter was gone, dead for all anyone knew and the only witness to his murder was Neal who wished he could reverse the past two months and disappear himself.

It's ok, Neal. It's not your fault.

He thought he heard Peter's voice, soft but in the background. He'd heard him several times now but it was too quiet to be anything but a thought of his own creation. Neal nodded at the voice as if Peter were there, wanting to believe the lie his mind had started to make recently. He even thought he felt his friend nearby but that just made things worse and Neal thought about Elizabeth. She had taken off to see her family upstate to deal with her grief so he had seen very little of her since the actual incident when he'd been the one to tell her what happened. They had yet to have a funeral or wake, nobody willing to give up on the idea of Peter being alive when all facts pointed to anything but.

"I'm sorry, Peter. It should have been me..."

He whispered the words to himself, to the air as he closed his eyes and tears dripped down his face. He thought he could feel a hand on his head, Peter's hand gently soothing him as he cried to himself or maybe it was just the wind.

"Neal?"

The con opened up his eyes and stared up tiredly, Mozzie hovering nearby and looking rather uncomfortable. Even his friend looked sad, no sign of him but for a few quick visits when everything had turned to hell just over a month back. Neal didn't even get up, he no longer cared if anyone saw him break down or cry. Besides, it was Mozzie. He'd seen far worse of him as he gave the little guy a brief nod and closed his eyes again. That feeling that someone was touching his hair stopped and he felt worse suddenly, sitting up as Mozzie sat beside him without another word. They sat in silence for a while before the con spoke.

"I... I've been looking into that case you and.. the Suit were working on. That particle accelerator is not something to sneeze at. Doran thought he could do some extraordinary things with the science. I have notes..."

The little guy meant well but Neal was not in the mood, standing up and turning only briefly to glare at his fellow con before taking off at a brisk walk. He sensed his shadow following too as well as Mozzie but he was in his own world, the sense that Peter wasn't there but how could he? It was just his imagination.

"Don't..."

He was trying to keep the little guy from talking any more about what happened. It had been too traumatic and he had yet to get over the image of Peter in that glass chamber with the inventor. The two men were fighting, arguing loudly as Neal watched. He had been hit over the head by Doran, the man figuring out he had been planted to spy on him, something the team hadn't anticipated when they sent Neal in undercover. Doran wasn't their target but his associate who was laundrying money was. He had been taken into custody but both Peter and Doran were gone, dead. Neal had seen it all as he'd come to, a bright flash of light blinding him momentarily before he found that his friend was nowhere to be seen and both men had vanish in the subatomic blast from the reactor inside the glass room.

"Doran thought he could create a transporter like in Star Trek..."

Mozzie's voice grated on him as he stopped and turned, giving his friend a look that would melt concrete before he let go.

"Stop it Mozz! I don't want to hear about conspiracies and theories about things we can't reverse or control! Just... go away! Please."

He barely said the last part, his anger more than he meant and he could see that Mozzie was hurting too. Elizabeth was gone out of the city but he had spent time with her helping her grieve as had Neal initially but it had come to be too much for everyone. June was treating him with kid gloves but giving him his space. He had locked himself up in his room for 3 weeks, today the first day he had finally decided he had to just go out and deal with things. He still couldn't cope as Mozzie nodded back, frowning up at him.

"Maybe later?"

His friend asked without really asking, Neal nodding back without turning as he took off and left the little guy in the park. He just wanted to be left alone in his grief as he headed back towards June's then paused, hailing a cab and ducking inside as he lost his shadow for a bit. The agent didn't look happy but Neal wasn't in the mood to care. He just wanted to be alone and only one place would make him happier at the moment.

"Where too, bud?"

The cabby spoke to him and he took a moment before answering as he gave Peter's address. It was technically out of his range but he had to go there. El wasn't home but he just had to go where his friend had been. The one place he felt like he had been with family. Call it silly but Neal wanted to feel close to his friend while the pain was still sharp.

It's out of your radius. Neal... Like you can hear me.

The voice spoke in Peter's tone, chiding at first then resigned as he felt. He leaned back and stared out the window. He had gotten used to hearing Peter in his head now but it was just his own imagination talking. It was comforting to think he could imagine his friend so lifelike in his mind but also disturbing. If he was to go mad, he wouldn't want any other voice in his head.

"I don't care. You were there, Peter."

He spoke aloud, the driver looking back at him but he just ignored the stares and watched the landscape go by.

I didn't think you owned anything this ragged, Neal. You really need to shave. Don't give up because of me.

Now it really did make him think of Peter, turning to the empty seat beside him in the back of the cab as he found himself imagining the agent sitting there giving him that fatherly frown he often did when he wasn't doing right. There was a quick flash of something and he thought he saw a shadowy shape but he rubbed his eyes and it was gone, Neal sighing as he felt the vehicle slow and pull over. He glanced down and saw his anklet hadn't gone red. Maybe someone knew he would come out here and changed his radius or it was broken. His eyes stared down at it a few minutes before he slipped out of the cab, paid the driver and walked up to a familiar house.

Why are we here, Neal? Don't think about... of course you're going to break inside.

The voice was still very soft, not even audible on a mental level but he heard it quietly behind his own thoughts as Neal walked around to the back and jumped the fence. He took the spare key from the rock in the garden and entered the house, disarming the alarm and turning it off as he walked into the living room and just looked around. He felt lost, emptiness reminding him his friend wasn't here anymore and the warmth of his place was now fading into a feeling of sadness and remorse.

()()()

It was three hours later he was still sitting on the sofa in the Burke home, glancing down at his anklet off and on but finally just enjoying the buzz from the cheap boxed wine he had found in their cabinet. He'd enjoyed two cases as he leaned back and closed his eyes and tried to evaporate from the guilt and sadness he was feeling.

Jesus, Neal! You're drunk and that was my wine. I expect you to restock but who am I kidding. I'm sure Mozzie doesn't replenish yours.

Peter's voice was louder now, not so much a subconscious thought as background whispers. The more he drank, the more he could hear the agent in his head as if he were nearby in the room. At some point Neal sat up and blinked, a shadowy shape pacing near him by the coffee table before it sat beside him on the sofa and a tingle like electricity or his arm falling asleep made him look at the shape curiously as it touched his shoulder.

I know... this is not what I thought death would be like. I thought I'd be free to float around in some nether place with clouds I suppose.

Peter's voice seemed to come from the direction of the shadow which was really just a displacement of the air more than a real dark shape. Neal rubbed at his eyes and squinted trying to see in his drunken haze.

"Clouds? Cappuccino in the clouds? Sara told me she thought I lived up in the clouds... everyone acts like I'm some kind of messenger from up high living in a fantasy world. I guess if you're talking to me now, I am. Or it's this crappy wine. Why can't you buy something... goo... good, Peter? El has better taste than this. I'd forge it for you if you asked."

He slurred on the words here and there, hesitant but talking freely as if Peter were there as he continued to drink more or chug in some cases. The displacement or shadow seemed to grow more distinct as he found himself sleepier and tired from the overdose of alcohol. He thought Peter's frown was obvious from where the shadow sat beside him, that tingling when it drew close more than just him being drunk but who could say.

Because you're Peter Pan. Mr. Optimist although right now I'd say you're doing a good job of out drinking Mozzie. I think he'd be jealous. You can't hear me. I'm probably imagining this all. I wonder if this is some kind of final test or my purgatory not that seeing you and everyone hasn't been fun but this is not how I envisioned spending the hereafter...

Peter sounded tired, real to the con but in his drunken haze he just nodded back, eyes rolling underneath his lids as he started to pass out and that sensation of someone touching him on the head as Peter used to comforted him in his moment of weakness.

"I never told you... Peter... but I found the manifest. The night you called me from the van. I was in your room. Your home... "

His voice trailed off and he thought he heard that hiss of disappointment Peter often made when Neal did something wrong. It was almost comforting to know he was telling the truth, giving his friend a final gift of sorts. He wanted to unburden himself but his mind was faltering and he was passing into oblivion.

Dammit Neal! I trusted you... but I think... I knew you must have found it. The Degas was too obviously forged... Dammit! You should have told me then but you were protecting Mozzie. I guess it matters little now. I'm dead and you're... you're asleep.

He was just passing into sleep, Peter's voice and the feeling of tingling that he could just make out as a hand touching his head were fading with his consciousness. He'd told the truth finally about something important to his friend and mentor. Peter knew... or at least the one in his head did. He felt unburdened to some extent that hand still mussing his hair as darkness overcame him.

(TBC)

Author's Note: I am hoping to finish this. Just a little taste of things to come and a redo of another snippet I had one before. I didn't like the old copy so this will be the new one once I get done with it.