Um...Day Nineteen. I don't have a good explanation for the time. Today's chapter summary: Neal may or may not have committed a crime in plain view. An interrogation of sorts ensues.


Peter couldn't believe it. He'd walked into Neal's apartment to see the man sitting in front of a table full of diamonds. There was a lot he was willing to let Neal get away with. This, this, it wasn't one of them.

"Neal," he commanded. "Stop. Now."

Neal froze. Oh, shit. He hadn't expected Peter to come in. If he had, he would have put something over the diamonds or had a lie ready or...something. But, he didn't. So now he had to do one of two things: lie, or tell the truth. Neal wasn't sure which one was worse. He slowly lowered one of the diamonds from just in front of his eye to the table, eyes never leaving Peter.

"Whatever you believe I was doing, I wasn't doing it," spilled out of Neal's mouth almost desperately. "Whatever you think I was doing...I didn't do it."

Peter scoffed. "Like I'll believe that."

Neal had to give him that one. It did not look good. Millions of dollars in precious stones, that had probably been reported stolen by now, and the only person nearby was Neal. It certainly looked like he had committed the largest diamond heist in United States history. And, worse, the best defense Neal had was 'I didn't do it.' That was a bad excuse on the best of days. This was not the best of days.

Neal stood up and slowly raised his hands. He wasn't entirely sure why, but was pretty sure Peter would need to arrest him. "For whatever my word is worth," he said, slowly, carefully, and deliberately. "I'll give you my word that I didn't steal it."

Peter's eyes flicked to the pile of precious stones on the table. Neal followed his gaze and winced. And, the worst thing? The truth wouldn't sound sane at all.

"I know it looks bad-" Neal started.

Peter cut him off. "It looks like you beat the Antwerp diamond heist." His tone was cold and brooked no dissent.

"I didn't!"

Shockingly, that blanket refusal didn't fill Peter with confidence. Instead, it spurred him to actually commit to arresting Neal. Peter was waiting, waiting, for Neal to spin a fantastical story about what had actually happened. But he didn't. He just refused. That meant either he was telling the truth (he didn't do it) or he had a very bad reason for stealing something (probably a pretty girl). Peter, against his better judgment, put handcuffs on Neal, behind his back.

"Oh, come on!" Neal protested. "I've told you up, down, and sideways that I didn't steal anything. And you're arresting me?"

Peter raised a judgmental eyebrow. "Care to explain what did happen then?"

Neal bit his lip, then released it. "Um...I came home and saw this on the table"-he gestured to the table as best he could-"and there wasn't much I could do. I couldn't tell you because, well, this would happen." He made an effort to gesture to the entire situation.

"You have to understand how ridiculous that sounds." Peter's voice was still cold, but was getting closer to believing Neal. Neal took that as a good sign.

But, he was still in handcuffs. That was a bad sign. "Yeah, I know." Neal shifted awkwardly in Peter's grip. The grip only tightened. "Yeah."

"You know how this looks, right?"

Neal nodded, eyes set on the diamonds. "It looks like I stole everything, hid it, and was waiting to sell it all, take the money, and run." His voice was hollow, maybe even despondent.

"Exactly. And you know that your story doesn't make any sense, right?"

Neal nodded again. "Yeah." His tone shifted to desperate again. "But I'll swear on whatever you'll believe that it's true."

Peter saw this for what he believed it to be: a ploy to get out of going back to prison. "You're still under arrest."

"Come on!" Neal was passionate, and definitely offended. "I didn't do anything, you have to believe me!"

Peter took a minute to think over Neal's story. Unfortunately, this was the sort of thing that seemed to happen to Neal more than anyone else in the world. It was still more likely than not that Neal had stolen the diamonds, but history proved that it wasn't impossible that someone had truly framed him. Had actually stolen diamonds and set them up in Neal's house so he would take the fall. It had happened before. But it was still Neal with a pile of stolen diamonds.

Pity (and whatever trust was left in their bond) won over. "And I do. But you can't un-arrest someone."

Neal sighed heavily. It was a long shot, but he had hoped that it would work. "Fine." Then, he added under his breath, "Can't believe this. The one time I try to do something right."

"What was that?" Peter asked sharply. There wasn't much trust left after this situation, and he was rapidly leaning towards skipping the verification step.

"Nothing," Neal denied automatically.

"No. What did you say." It wasn't a question; it was a command.

And Neal obeyed, losing whatever fight was left in his body. "The one time I try to do something right, I get arrested. I've gotten away with so much and I'm arrested for something I didn't steal."

And Neal sounded so convincing. Peter knew that he was a conman and conmen were professional liars. But, he could at least hear him out.

"What were you doing?" he asked, actually sounding legitimately curious instead of interrogative. "It certainly looked like you were valuing the gems in your head." He relaxed his grip on Neal's arm. Neal wasn't going to run right now.

"I was."

"And I'm supposed to be reassured?" Peter tried to bring back the tone most of these conversations had, jovial banter instead of what basically amounted to a polite interrogation.

"I was trying to figure out how much it was and how much trouble I'd get in once you found out," Neal admitted. He gave a wry laugh. "After I finished the valuation, I swear, I was going to tell you. I swear."

"How much is it?"

Neal took a deep breath. "From what I got to look at? About 30 million."

"And how much did you get to look at?"

"About a quarter," Neal answered with the best approximation of a shrug he could give.

"So we could be beating the Antwerp diamond heist?"

"Could be." Neal's voice was still hollow and sort of empty, almost like he had resigned himself to going back to prison already.

"And you aren't fighting against me anymore?"

"Why should I?" Yep. Definitely resigned. "I'm already arrested and you said I won't be able to fix it. Might as well resign myself now."

And those pesky feelings got involved. Peter, deep down in his gut, believed Neal. He believed that Neal was framed to take the fall for something he didn't do. And, worse, he believed that Neal would just go along with it. Because Neal would. He would surrender if he thought there wasn't another way out. He'd surrendered once before, and he didn't have another way out that time either. And this was seeming a lot closer to a 'post-Kate escape' situation rather than a 'champagne to a surveillance van' situation.

"Okay, Neal. Listen to me." Neal did his best to look back at him. "I'm doing something reckless here. Promise you won't run?"

Neal paused. There was no way that Peter was actually asking that. And actually believing the answer. Well, no harm in answering. "Yes. I promise."

"Good." Peter took the handcuffs off of Neal's wrists. "Now we talk."

Neal nodded. "We talk." He turned around, turning his back on the diamond-covered table and meeting Peter's eyes.

"Are you claiming you were framed?" Peter asked, not clinically, but not caringly either.

"...Yes."

"By who?"

"I don't know," Neal answered, honestly.

That didn't help. "Did you piss off anyone who would do something like this?"

"Many times."

That was less helpful. And I thought the bar couldn't get lower. Peter sighed. There were days, many days, when Neal was too much to handle. This was rapidly becoming one of those days.

"Until we have any leads on this," Peter ordered. "You're on house arrest. If you're not with me, you're in this building. Understood?"

For what it was worth, Neal didn't protest. "Understood." His eyes unconsciously darted back to the stones.

"Those are FBI evidence now," Peter said, heading off the concerns. "We'll get a professional appraiser to double-check your math." Neal gave a terse nod. "And Neal?"

Neal immediately stiffened. "Yes."

"The next time something like this happens? You tell me. Immediately."

Neal gave an awkward smile. "I'm kind of hoping there isn't a next time."

"So am I," Peter agreed. "But we both know there will be."


I hope you enjoyed; please leave a review if you particularly enjoyed it. NaNoWriMo participants: Almost 2/3 of the way through!