A/N: Whoops! Thanks to my reviewer Leonie-Alastair for pointing out that the Cardinals usually play the Mets and not the Yankees. Not being an avid MLB fan, I didn't even think about that. I did a little research after that to see what my options were to fix the oversight and saw that the leagues do play interleague games, so while it's unlikely, it's not technically impossible! Normally I'd just switch it to the Mets and call it a day, but from what I can tell, the Mets stadium is out of Neal's range, and I know he was in front of Yankee stadium without Peter. So I think we'll just call it artistic license and say it's an interleague game, if that's cool with everyone. Thank you for the reviews so far!
Peter had gone back to the office after Neal had gone inside the stadium. He sat at his desk, staring out the glass window at the seat Neal normally occupied, hands folded in front of his face as he thought. Resolved, he finally logged into his computer and ran a search for Caffrey. As soon as he typed the C, the auto-fill brought up the full name, and he shook his head. He hadn't run a search on Neal in a long time, and still his computer knew.
There were far less hits than Michael Smith, but still enough that he'd be spending a good portion of the night running through profiles. He'd just settled in for a long evening, about to call Elizabeth and tell her not to wait up when a thought occurred to him. His searches for Neal had always been Caffrey, Neal. So why was his computer auto-filling in just Caffrey?
"Goddamnit, Neal," he said, pulling up the information for his computer's key-logger. Neal knew he had one and once Peter had told him, he assumed the conman wouldn't be bold enough to use his computer, so he'd honestly stopped checking it on a regular basis. Maybe that's what Neal had counted on, though.
He was glaring at his monitor as he found the day Neal had broken into his computer (how he'd figured out the password was another question entirely, but then again, this was Neal). The only silver lining he had here was this had just saved him hours of searching, because right in front of him was the first file Neal had pulled – Caffrey, Daniel.
Peter hesitated, feeling suddenly like he was about to pry into a part of Neal's life that was private. He wasn't positive of course, but his gut, which was rarely wrong, told him that man was Neal's father. Neal had told Peter his dad was dead – or at least had implied it - and just getting him to say even a few words about how he was a dirty cop had been like pulling teeth. No matter how much Neal attempted to keep up his mask of the cheerful conman, Peter knew him well enough to know that the situation with his father had had a far deeper affect on him than he'd ever admit.
If Neal hadn't broken into his computer to look up his old man, Peter might have shut down his search and left it at that. But if he was willing to go behind his back on this, then Peter was going to find out why.
Not because he was worried about him or anything.
He opened the page on Daniel Caffrey and started to read.
Neal didn't mind baseball, he found. The thing he found the most interesting was watching the pitching and thinking about how that had been Peter at some point. He almost felt bad the older man wasn't there – but then thought about how weird that would be.
As far as Daniel knew, Neal was working at an office job. It wasn't a lie; he just hadn't detailed which office. He didn't know why he was keeping it from him. It was another one of those things that he just wasn't ready to tell him quite yet. The anklet, also, had gone without discussion. Fortunately, it wasn't very visible and Neal made sure to walk behind him on the stairs, so he wouldn't notice it accidentally.
The Yankees had won the game, which disappointed his dad, but Neal didn't really have a ton invested in the outcome. He couldn't help but grin as Frank Sinatra came over the speakers and started singing New York, New York as people filed out. It seemed like an oddly good sign to Neal – if he believed in such things.
He whistled the song as he got out of the taxi in front of June's and checked his watch. After eleven. Late, but not nearly as bad as it had been for most of the week. He didn't have to work Saturday and he was planning to sleep in nice and late. He paid the driver and turned to enter the house, pulling to an abrupt stop as he spotted Peter standing on the top step, lit up by a nearby street lamp.
"Peter," he said, feeling like a kid who'd just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Which, again was stupid – he'd done nothing wrong. "You can't still want to go over that mortgage fra—"
"You want to explain this to me?" Peter did not look pleased. He tossed a folder to Neal, who caught it, blinking up at him before slowly opening it. It was his father's file – not the crumpled copy he had hidden in the panel above his fireplace, but fresh, newly printed.
"Looks like you've met my dad," Neal commented.
"You've been sneaking around all hours of the night, breaking into my computer, and lying - to me and hell, even to Mozzie," Peter said, holding up his hand when Neal opened his mouth to protest that he hadn't technically lied to him. Mozzie, yeah, but not Peter. "I want to know what's going on, Neal. Are you helping your father do something illegal?" He walked down June's front steps to stand in front of Neal, hands on his hips.
Neal's eyes widened at the accusation. "What? No. Peter, no." Of all the things he thought Peter might say, he'd never even considered that the man would assume… but of course he would. He always did. Even when Neal hadn't stolen the treasure, he'd immediately concluded he had. That complete lack of faith had made it a pretty easy decision not to tell him about it once he had his hands on it.
"Then why all the sneaking around, Neal?" Peter asked.
"I haven't done anything wrong here," Neal said, getting defensive - angry even. He knew he didn't make it easy to trust him; he made bad decisions, he knew that, but he was trying. Moments like these, though, he found himself wondering why. He'd always be a con in the FBI's eyes. In Peter's eyes.
"Nothing wrong?" Peter replied. "You broke into an FBI agent's computer, Neal."
"Okay I did one thing wrong here," Neal amended. "But I'm not doing anything illegal, Peter, I swear."
"You're not," Peter said, and to Neal the words sounded… sarcastic. As if the idea of him doing anything on the up and up was somehow ludicrous.
He set his jaw. "No."
"Then why did you pull up information on Anthony Parrino?" Peter asked, nodding toward the papers in Neal's hands.
"Curiosity." Which was the absolute truth.
"That man is the current boss of the Giordano crime family - the most dangerous mob in the city of St. Louis," Peter hissed. "Neal, if you're screwing around with these guys, it's not just the FBI you'll have to worry about. One wrong move and you'll be dead, do you understand?"
There was no point arguing it. There never was. Peter was certain that Neal was doing something and nothing Neal said would convince him otherwise now. He held out the folder for Peter to take. "Yeah. I get it."
Peter looked like he wanted to hit him. Neal tilted his chin up, almost daring him to. They stared at one another for a long moment before Peter snatched the folder from his hand. He left without another word, Neal watching him stalk up the street to his car.
"Do you know for sure he's lying?" Elizabeth said the next morning. Peter had been sulking, staring at his breakfast, and when his wife had asked him what was wrong he told her the whole story.
"For sure?" Peter said. "No." He sighed. "But he got pretty defensive when I confronted him."
"Huh," Elizabeth said, looking thoughtful before taking a bite of her cereal.
"What?" Peter asked.
"Nothing," she said. "It's just… Neal's good at what he does, you're the first one to admit that."
Peter shrugged, but he couldn't disagree with her. "So?"
"So, it just seems to me if he was lying he wouldn't be defensive. He'd be smooth and charming and, well, Neal."
Peter realized, for probably the millionth time, why he loved his smart and sexy wife so much. What she said made sense. A lot of sense. He couldn't help but think about the day at the warehouse, when he had accused Neal of stealing the treasure. He'd also gotten defensive and angry. "Prove it!" he'd spat, before stalking off.
That was before he had had the treasure. Before he'd found out that Mozzie had taken it. It had been a genuine reaction from an innocent Neal.
And after? Once he knew about the treasure? He was back to being, well, Neal Caffrey.
Maybe confronting Neal last night hadn't been such a good idea. But after reading the information on his dad, and seeing who his mob connection was… Peter got worried. Neal made stupid decisions. All the time. Especially when it came to helping out friends. Peter believed that would extend to family, no matter how estranged they may be. It just seemed too coincidental for Daniel Caffrey to show back up in Neal's life and Neal to start running searches on Parrino. If Neal was getting involved with the Giordano's, he could truly be in danger.
But what if Neal really just had been curious? What if he saw a way to find out more about his father, noticed that Daniel was believed to be connected to Parrino, so looked him up as well?
It was possible, wasn't it?
Or maybe Peter was just rationalizing it, in the hopes that it was true.
He legitimately didn't know what to believe anymore when it came to Neal.
"Wait, so your father's here. In New York," Mozzie said. Neal couldn't tell what his expression was - surprise? Concern?
Neal hadn't gotten as restful a sleep as he'd hoped he would after his fight with Peter. Mozzie arrived the next morning looking for some of June's coffee, and Neal ended up telling him everything. He wondered if it was in the hopes of feeling like he had someone on his side. Whenever it was Neal versus Peter, Mozzie weighed in in favor of Neal, no surprise there.
"Yeah," he replied, taking a sip of his own coffee.
"For over a week?" Mozzie asked, and Neal was starting to get the feeling his friend wasn't too pleased with him keeping this a secret.
"I'm sorry Moz," Neal said. "I should have said something. I was just trying to get to know him, I guess."
Mozzie seemed appeased by the apology. "Well? What's he like?"
Neal considered. "Like a guy who's out of practice being a dad," he said. "But he's trying, I think."
"And the Suit thinks he's running a con?" Mozzie said.
"He's not," Neal said, firmly, not sure when he'd became so positive. Up until last night, he'd had his own doubts. But it was like the moment Peter voiced the same concerns, Neal had to defend his choices by defending his dad.
"But he has mob connections?"
"He was working for the mob in St. Louis," Neal said. "But that was years - no decades - ago, when he was a cop."
His phone buzzed suddenly, and Neal glanced at the number. It was his father. He picked it up. "Hello?"
"Neal?" Daniel said. He sounded… off. "I need your help, son."