Chapter 9: Judging ( if possible )

Chuck leaned against the hospital room's door frame almost as soon as he got to Bryce's – Neal Caffrey's. Two NSA gorillas were standing just one meter back, in the corridor, as if Caffrey was going to get anywhere with his broken ankle. Everyone else had gone home or back to the hotel, but Chuck wanted to speak with Bryce before... Before whatever was going to happen to the ever-elusive spy / con artist, happened. Which, from what he knew, wouldn't take long. Casey had said the general had arranged a location and a doctor – in case Neal Caffrey turned out to still be in need of medical assistance. Apparently Beckman would be coming to get the man in one hour, top.

So, yeah, Chuck wanted to speak to Neal Caffrey – and for that, it'd be logical to come in the room, and not stand at the door frame. But Caffrey was trying to get on his feet, despite the fact that one of the two was in a cast. And for now, Bryce – Caffrey – hadn't noticed him yet. Probably because the room was dark, the thief was drowsy with his medicine, and he needed to focus on his less-than-cooperative broken ankle.

So Chuck stood there, leaning against the door frame – watching. Why was Bryce getting up? What was he trying to achieve? Was it just him being stubbornly unable to stay still, even with a broken ankle... or was it something else? How could Chuck tell? He knew nothing about Neal Caffrey. There was no point trying to pretend he had the slightest idea as to what the man's thoughts were.

So Chuck watched, as Neal Caffrey sauntered with difficulty... towards the window. The night was falling, he realized. Someone had drawn the curtain. And Caffrey was holding it, to look at what was happening outside. Chuck wondered if the sky was visible from there – he hadn't paid it much attention, earlier. The lights from outside lit up Caffrey's face. He wasn't smiling, but there still was more emotion in there than the last times he had seen Bryce...

Chuck took a step in the room, and Caffrey turned around to look at him.

"Planning to run?"

He wasn't sure whether it was a quip, or not. It was obvious that no one – not Neal Caffrey, not Bryce Larkin – could outrun the two NSA agents keeping watch at the door with a broken ankle – but Chuck had asked, and it probably meant something more than he had thought, when he had been saying the words.

Caffrey didn't give him the automatic and expected response of slight denial paired up with humor.

He knew very well what Chuck had been implying, perhaps better than Chuck himself knew.

"Where would I go, Chuck? Neal Caffrey doesn't die; he disappears, yes, but he doesn't die. He pretends to, but even when he does, it's not to fool people he cares about. Moreover, it wouldn't be believable a third time around, would it? And there's no point trying to disappear when I'll get the CIA after my ass as a result."

"You could still hide. I'm almost certain you're good enough to never be caught again."

The conman laughed drily, and headed back to his bed – limping, almost falling because of the cast.

"I probably could, Chuck, and perhaps not until the end of my life, but long enough for it to be worth it. But I'd have to lay low, and that, I can't do. I need excitement in my life, perhaps not everyday, perhaps not always, but I need it. Just see how well it turned out, last time I had to stay discreet for a long time: I somehow managed to join the CIA, which got me killed twice, amongst other things. So, as I said, no point running away... And Neal Caffey doesn't die on his friends."

Chuck couldn't stop the question before it was too late.

"But Bryce Larkin does?"

Caffrey didn't even look at him – but, strangely enough, Chuck could see more anger than shame in the man's facial expression.

Wasn't Chuck right, though? Neal Caffrey didn't want to fake his death, this time, but he had been able to do it to cut all ties with Chuck and Sarah? Chuck wasn't even thinking of Caffrey going back to being Bryce Larkin, not after everything the alias had lived through... But the conman could have, at least, contacted them. He could have told them he was alive and well, that he was going to live a better life. Just, you know, that their friend wasn't dead.

"Bryce! Look at me, and answer the damn question!"

The conman eventually looked Chuck in the eyes – and, no doubt, there was a lot of... not anger, no, but perhaps... A lot of resentment in these eyes. Something he wouldn't normally let show, but the medicine was probably hindering his coping mechanisms – thinking that Bryce, of all people, had any, was disturbing. Bryce was the strong one who made all the difficult decisions, who didn't hesitate to make himself look like the villain, if only it allowed him to keep his friends safe.

It made sense, suddenly, why Bryce – why Neal Caffrey had these coping mechanisms. He was the one who never said how he felt, when others always lashed out. He was the one who didn't think there was a point defending himself most of the time. The one who made the difficult choices, and who endured the consequences.

"Why should I, Chuck?"

Whatever medicine the doctor had given him, Neal Caffrey was letting go of some of his rancor.

"You complain that I didn't tell you I was alive... But I don't remember you being so grateful for my first return from death. I don't remember any one of you as having really missed me, the first time. When we saw each other again, the only thing you thought of wasn't 'Great, my friend is alive' but 'Damn, my rival for Sarah's love isn't dead', if I remember right. Even as you knew the truth about the 'end' of our frienship; I made sure you were safe from the CIA, years ago, even if it cost me my only friend, and don't dare tell me it also destroyed your future! Not when you have made a better future for yourself, than Bryce Larkin ever had. Difficult to have a future when you're dead, Chuck. Thanks to me, you weren't. But did you even care that it cost me too, and not only you?"

Before Chuck could even begin to think of an answer, a woman cleared her throat just outside the room. Bryce fell back into neutrality, and greeted the general, his eyes on the wheelchair that had been brought for him. It was time to go.

oOo

Neal rolled his brand new wheelchair with a visible lack of concern towards the table in the middle of the room. Not difficult to deduce where he was supposed to go, considering there was nothing else than the table, a chair for his interrogator, he guessed, and the door in that room. Not even a window.

He discarded the useless reminder of Riggs' condemned windows – no point brooding about that.

He could have done with crutches, but he surmised that counted as weapons – nevermind that he didn't quite see how him and his broken ankle would have run away while the crutches were busy holding off the two NSA guys shadowing his every move. Not that Neal was thinking of running. As he had told Chuck, he wasn't going to run; not when there wasn't a point.

He hadn't left when Mozzie had stolen the treasure, he wasn't going to run now. As he had told his friend at the time, given the circumstances, if he ran, he couldn't come back. Or, at least, he couldn't come back to this life.

He had finally found the one life he wanted – alright, he wasn't saying it was perfect, but it was still better than whatever he had had before. He was doing good things, he still got the thrill from time to time, he used almost all of his skills, and he had friends he knew he could count on for what mattered. Neal Caffrey had found the right balance between the cons and the truth.

He wanted to keep this life.

To his surprise, Diane Beckman was the one who came and sat on the other side of the table.

Neal grinned at her – almost. The cut on his left cheek wasn't making it more than half a smirk, but he was sure the general got it anyway. After all, even with one cheek less, Neal Caffrey was a cheeky one.

"My, General Beckman, I'm honored to see you with me in this room. Are we waiting for more guests, or shall the party begin?"

Beckman gave him a slightly surprised look, which didn't exactly surprise him. Neal Caffrey was cheeky, but Bryce Larkin was all business. The general'd have to get used to it; after all, she wanted to speak to Neal, not to Bryce – to the reality under the mask.

"Neal Caffrey, isn't it? This is obviously a matter of the CIA, but since you also worked for me during the Intersect Project, I'll be one of your interrogators. Your last direct superior at the CIA is on his way, but we will begin without him; Agent Kessler will only have to catch up on the basics."

Because the basics were probably going to last the whole night, since the NSA and the CIA needed to assess him back from the beginning – to see Neal Caffrey without the Larkin mask on. They wanted to see who he was, before going into the details of aaaaall the illegal things he had done.

Which would certainly take a looot longer, but well. Why spoil the fun already, right?

Neal only smiled more at the general – it wasn't a stupid grin anymore, though, but just a slightly amused, partly proud smile. He couldn't pretend he wasn't very happy with himself about his little tricks. Conning the CIA...

But he had to keep his enthusiasm under wraps, because he didn't want to end up in Guantanamo – how he was going to prevent that from happening was yet another question.

A question to which he didn't have an answer yet... But he was starting to have ideas. It'd all depend on how convinced General Beckman and Agent Kessler would be that he was telling the truth, right now. If he played his cards right... If the CIA was agreeable enough to, erm, forget that he hadn't been completely honest with them – right, because that was likely to happen...

In other words, if Neal was extremely good at what he did – which was the case, but it clearly wouldn't suffice – if Neal was extremely lucky – disputable, considering his past; then again, despite everything, he was still alive, so... – if the odds unexpectedly turned around...

Then, perhaps, maybe, possibly he could even get himself in a more comfortable position.

Maybe the tracking anklet would go off too – though, he guessed, if he ended up in jail again, he'd lose the tracker too; but that wasn't the way he had in mind.

General Beckman had her hand on his file – his files, plural; Bryce's and Neal's. She was about to open them, and start his questioning, he could tell.

But something was keeping her from doing it right away.

Beckman looked up from the closed files, back to him. Right in the eyes.

"Before we begin, Agent Larkin..."

She stopped herself, corrected her words.

"...Mr Caffrey. I'd like to ask you, personally, though I guess nothing tells me you won't lie..."

"You can still ask, General, and even listen to my answer. You don't have to believe me for all that."

Yet.

"Fine. My question is simple, really. Just, why?"

Neal's small smile became a smirk, full of mischief, a touch of recklessness, a hint of pride.

"Why not, General Beckman? The real question would be why not."

He could see that she got most of what he meant, and that, that was good enough for now. It meant he had a chance to get out unscathed... mostly unscathed.

"You've made a precarious situation for yourself, Larkin. I hope you know what you're doing."

oOo

Peter was sitting in a waiting room at the office, after Bancroft had told him that General Beckman from the NSA, and CIA Agent Andrew Kessler, both of whom had had Bryce Larkin under their orders when he had allegedly been killed for the second time, wanted to speak to him. He guessed that made sense – they wanted to know who Neal was, since he wasn't Bryce Larkin.

After five minutes, more or less, the door to the private room the two strangers were using at Federal Plaza opened, letting Sarah Carmichael walk out. She and Peter shared a surprised look – but that too made sense.

The former CIA agent had been Neal's – Bryce Larkin's partner. Peter was Neal's.

A petite woman, stern-looking, was standing on the other side of the door. The uniform made it obvious that she was General Diane Beckman.

"Agent Burke, if you'll come in."

Peter hesitated only one instant – wondering, at last, if what he had to say would save Neal or condemn him; or worse, if it wouldn't change a thing at all. Then he followed her, and sat at the table in the middle of the room. A man, Agent Andrew Kessler, he surmised, occupied a chair on the other side – short and curly hair, brown eyes that weren't warm at all, harsh features in a handsome way. Diane Beckman went for the third chair.

The interrogation started with the basics; when and how he had met Neal Caffrey, Neal's lack of violent tendencies, how much Neal had allegedly stolen, if he'd consider money at the price of someone's safety, how Peter had eventually caught him... Neal had made it easy for Peter to make him look good enough, despite an obvious tendency of doing whatever he pleased.

He wasn't a bad guy. He simply didn't play by the same rules as everyone else.

Andrew Kessler perused the two files in his hands, an appreciative glint in his eyes – but perhaps the CIA agent was just impressed by Neal's tricks and boldness on a technical level. Nothing said it was a good thing.

The man looked up and back at Peter.

"How would you describe Neal Caffrey, Agent Burke? On a personal level, not on a professional level. Is he... loyal? Driven by fame, by money? Is he someone you can trust?"

Peter smiled slightly at the question. He wasn't surprised, but Neal was so much more complex than that... With him, everything had to be considered on an particular level.

Like with everyone else, Peter suddenly realized, except that Neal wasn't going along the usual categories, criminal or otherwise.

"Neal... Neal is a dreamer. He wants to do good, but doesn't particularly care for the rules if they are in his way. He can be trusted... only, not with everything. You know how you could trust some gamblers with your life, but you wouldn't give them your money to look after? He's that, even more complicated. He's a conman, but I'd trust him with my life, my money, my house, my wife, my kids if I had any... on the other hand, I know he'll never go by the book, especially not if he wants to defend a friend or an innocent. I don't trust him to play by the rules, to follow the law if there is something important on the line. He'll save a life even if by doing so he undermines the inquiry..."

Peter took a moment to think, and it must have shown on his face, because neither the general nor Kessler interrupted his thinking.

"... I think I might have been a bit unfair with him on those points, as it is. Neal... doesn't care for the letter of the law, though he generally cares for the spirit of the law, but he lives by his loyalties – to his friends, to those who matter, to those who don't deserve, and can't afford what happens to them; as long as they don't do anything too grave, he'll stay loyal to them. More than once, I forced him to choose, and it never ended well."

Not that Peter believed he had been completely wrong these times, but now that he thought about it... Perhaps the way he had gone about it hadn't helped at all.

"If I had to choose a few words to qualify Neal... He's loyal, unrepentant when he thinks he's in the right, charming, very clever, unsure of his own worth, self-destructive at times. He's a challenger, too; he does things because he's told no one can. He pretends he doesn't care, but it's a lie. He doesn't show it, because he'd rather people blamed him for not caring than pitied him. He's... he makes himself look like a child, because he'd like to still be one, to forget the pain."

Peter knew Neal very well. All this, he had thought it, more or less clearly, at some point during the last five years, as Neal's secrets unravelled.

And still, Peter wasn't able, when it really mattered, to take it into account. How many times had he blamed Neal, not even for his choices, but for a situation the conman hadn't even started? How many times had he asked the younger man to "be a man"... when it was obvious that Neal was always trying to do the best he could, even if Peter didn't approve of his methods?

It wasn't the time to think about that, though. Now was the time to do the best he could so that Neal didn't end up in Guantanamo... or worse.

Agent Kessler took a look at his notes from Sarah Carmichael's interview.

"Sarah Carmichael described Bryce Larkin as a self-sacrifial overachiever. Do you think that also applies to Caffrey?"

Peter's upper lip twisted a bit.

"Still considering that Neal probably couln't display any levity under the mask of Bryce Larkin... Yes. That's Neal, when you take off the veneer of happiness."