Part 03: Goodbye
Instantly Peter became serious. The most important change Neal wouldn't like at all, but maybe he already knew.
"Mozzie died. Almost four months ago."
"I know," Neal confirmed. "I was at his funeral."
Peter didn't know what to say. With his mouth staying open he stared at his friend. Then he shook his head in disbelieve. Neal knew exactly what he wanted to say with that. 'I didn't see you there. Why?'
„I wanted to stay back. It wouldn't be nice, if I were arrested at his grave, right? But on the other hand I couldn't stay away. I owed him that much, he meant a lot to me. It was risky, but it was worth it."
„But-," Peter didn't believe what he heard. "But why didn't you say anything? I would have helped you."
"-and get yourself into trouble? No, Peter." Neals gaze was straight at the agent's face. "It was better that way."
"Couldn't you make yourself known after that, contact me in some way? El would be more than happy to see you again."
A small, honest smile enlightened Neal's face for a moment. "Yep, I would have been pleased, too. I was a bit surprised, that she had your son with her. He's a bit young for such a serious event."
"You mean Neal. Mozzie meant much to him as well, he was like an uncle for him."
The typical lopsided grin appeared on Peters features, while Neal was really confused now.
"Neal? Seriously? You named your son after me? Do you really think, that's a good idea?"
Peter grinned impishly, the younger man shook his head still in confusion.
"Why?"
"I missed you. El too. It was her suggestion."
Neal's eyes were teary and his smile was so honest, Peter never saw before. The two men approached and hugged each other. This time Neal held on to Peter. After some minutes they separated.
"Thanks. I didn't expect that. How will you explain that later to him when he's old enough? His namesake was a convicted felon and he was partially raised by another villain?" Neal's voice was a little hoarse and even Peter had to clear his throat before answering.
"He can refer to two people, who I value highly. Both of them have their good sides and their questionable ones, but both of them have big hearts and know exactly when to do the right thing."
Neal leaned again at the window, crossed his arms over his chest, dropped his gaze to the ground and nodded slowly.
"Thank you again, Peter." He swallowed hard, wiped with the back of his hand over his eyes. "For everything. Please, greet El and Neal from me. You better should go now. I have an important appointment and we shouldn't be seen together. It's a curator from New Jersey, and I think he knows you."
Peter knew this moment would come, but he wanted to postpone it. He didn't want to leave Neal. When the young man looked up again and directly into Peter's face, there was only the typical Caffrey-mask there. The charming smile, a friendly expectant expression and shining blue eyes. But Peter knew nothing of that reflected Neal's real character. The real Neal was once again too well hidden from the world. Sadly Peter tried to shake off that thought. He wasn't successful.
"Will you ever be yourself, Neal?" He asked quietly.
"Every rose has its thorn, Peter." The art expert answered evenly quiet. "When I was with you, I could in fact often be myself. But I wasn't free. Now I'm free, but most of the time I can't be myself. It doesn't matter, it's a nearly ideal-status and maybe with a few years more gone by, I can be more and more who I really am."
"Will we meet again?"
Neal shook his head. „No, I don't think so. It's better that way. You have more to lose than I, if the truth comes out. I would never do that to El and Neal."
Neal reached out his hand to Peter, but the older one hugged his friend again so strong that Neal nearly couldn't breathe. Instead he snuggled into the arms around him.
"Be careful, Neal."
"Always will. Greetings to your family."
Without one more word, Peter turned around and left the room behind. The security guard waited at the door and escorted Peter to the exit. He looked up at the building and recognized at a window on the second floor the slim figure. What he couldn't see, were the tears and the frozen smile.
This goodbye hurt Neal more than the one in the streets of New York, when he was wheeled into the ambulance. Nonetheless he finally felt the pressure loosen, that constricted his chest since that day. He rested his head against the wall and took a deep breath. When he looked back down at the alley, the big familiar figure of his American friend vanished between the people streaming to the museum.
On the second floor Neal put on the fedora with an easy movement of his hand, turned around and went down the hallway to his meeting.
