Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending.
(Maria Robinson)
It took almost two weeks until Neal was finally released from the infirmary. He had expected to return to his cell. Therefore, he was surprised when he was led to the administrative sector. He was even more confused when he was given his belongings and the clothes he had been wearing when he was imprisoned. "What's going on?"
The guard informed him he'd be discharged, so Neal didn't understand what was going on. It dawned on him when he spotted Agent Burke, waiting for him with an anklet in this hand, accompanied by Mozzie. Neal was taken aback. "Oh no. I won't sign your damn contract. I told you!"
Now, it was the guard's turn to be confused. "Mr. Caffrey, you've already signed the contract as required and the FBI has issued the papers needed for your discharge."
Neal looked puzzled at the documents, staring at his signature. If he hadn't been positive that he'd never signed this contract, he would have believed it was his own handwriting.
His friend barged in. "I'm his lawyer. I can attest that this is his authentic signature."
"It's not!"
The guard grew suspicious. "If you haven't signed the documents yourself we have to report falsification of documents to the authorities. That is a serious crime, as well as false testimony, someone is going to serve time for it..."
Taking a look at Burke's steady gaze and the little man's meaningful look, the prisoner knew exactly who had forged his signature. Despite feeling fooled, he didn't have the heart to accuse his friend of anything that would incur a prison sentence.
Neal sighed in resignation. "It's OK. Seriously, I signed it. Probably the meds the doctor gave me, made me suffer from memory lapses."
Neal went to change into his suit and was released from prison afterwards. Peter suppressed the urge to hug the younger man who still looked pale and withdrawn. The suit he was wearing seemed to be over-sized. Although, it wasn't the Devore which had changed in the last two months, but rather the man wearing it.
Still, the agent knew better than to comment on Neal's appearance. His consultant wasn't up for apologies or compassion, it would just make him more defiant. Like many times before, Peter just handed him the tracking anklet and asked him to do the honors. Pulling a face, the con man lifted the leg of his trouser to snap the anklet into place.
/** Two months later **/
Agent Burke hadn't pitched his hopes too high regarding Neal's behavior towards him. However, after two months it was quite agonizing to watch the younger man.
Back at the Bureau, Caffrey had started off slow. He had been still weak from his time in prison, and his lungs had hurt every now and then from the surgery. Therefore, he hadn't joined the team for field work but stayed at his desk, doing research, checking the files.
So far, the CI hadn't shown great interest in any of the cases. For though, he had helped to clear up quite a few crimes, the sparkling wit had been missing. No cheeky comments, no pert answers, no daring plans and no sign of the old Caffrey grin.
He was polite and respectful, arriving on time every morning and leaving at 5 pm sharp. He executed all orders punctually and correctly, causing no reason for complaint. The formerly outgoing con man refrained from of the usual office gossip and virtually evaded any private conversation.
Actually, it was nothing Peter Burke could blame his consultant for. However, after two months of this behavior he just couldn't take it anymore. It seemed as if only a part of his partner had returned from prison, whereas the other half had stayed locked up somewhere.
Diana had asked Caffrey to go along with her to an opening of a modern art exhibition. He declined her invitation, as well as free tickets for the Metropolitan Opera.
Jones had tried to entice Neal into a night of bar-hopping, to no effect.
The consultant had kept to himself, staying aloof from the world. He felt worn down most of the time. Nothing caught his interest. No-one got through to him. Sometimes, he was already exhausted after brushing his teeth in the morning, yet the day still stretched ahead of him. He wasn't hungry at all, food tasted like cardboard.
On one occasion, Neal was sitting on the roof top terrace, sipping a glass of Bordeaux, when the exquisite Baccarat crystal goblet slipped through his fingers. He just sat there, staring at the red liquid spreading between the shards of glass on the floor. He mused whether his life was just the same as this glass, slipping through his fingers, unable to be saved from being shattered and finally broken irrevocably, waiting to be swept up and discarded.
All the crime files at work bored him. This indifferent state didn't improve over time. Quite the opposite, it happened more and more often that he found himself sitting at his desk, secluding himself in his Côte d'Azur daydream.
Nowadays, he took a taxi to commute between June's residence and the FBI since he felt too tired to walk.
Back in his apartment, he sat there for hours, just staring out of the window. He didn't read any books or paint; he didn't explore the city within his radius; he didn't entertain his friends. All he did was – nothing.
He usually went to bed early but suffered from nightmares and insomnia. So, when the alarm clock went off the next morning he was exhausted, again.
One evening, Peter discussed the matter at home with his wife. "I just can't stand this anymore, El. He's withering away under my very nose, and I don't know how to stop it."
El objected vehemently. "Hon, actually you can't blame him! He suffered some pretty traumatic events. That's not something you brush off and go on as though nothing has happened."
Her husband was agitated. "I don't blame him! I know it's all my fault. Believe me, I apologised over and over again. It's not about me. I don't expect him to forgive and forget, or just to buddy up with me again. That's not going to happen. But I can't stand back and watch him deteriorate like this. I have offered him to be assigned to a different handler. Maybe, it's staying with me that's causing his distress."
El was surprised. "You did? What did he say?"
Peter shrugged. "Better the devil you know ..." After a moment of silence, he went on, "He doesn't trust any Federal Agents now, neither the ones he knows nor the ones he doesn't. Still I have to do something to save him. I have to stop his self-destruction. I just don't know how!"
His wife kissed him affectionately. "Peter Burke, if there is anyone at all who can make it right, that person will be you. You will find the way to fix it."
Next morning at the Bureau, Jones and Diana approached him. "Boss, we need to do something about Caffrey. I'm starting to wonder whether that guy down there at the desk is really Neal Caffrey or a body snatcher. Today, I've asked him if he'd like to accompany me to a closing event at the MoMA to see off an exhibit of contemporary American art. He hadn't even heard about it. It has been running for 6 weeks, and the world's best art forger hasn't heard about it. That sets off the alarm bells in my head!"
Jones seconded her. "Just look at him. He's wearing the same tie like yesterday. Taking Caffrey's usual dress standard into account, that's the same as if I would come to work in my basketball gear. He needs to get back to his old life. Can't you order him to leave that desk and start working in the field?"
Peter sighed. "How would that work out? Forcing him against his will to chase violent criminals? I don't want him to get killed. You're definitely right about one thing. He needs to move on from this desk and cold files. I'm working on that."
Diana was enthralled. "Do you have a plan already?"
The senior agent shook his head. "Not yet, but I'm on it. And once I've worked out the details, I might need your help. Are you game?"
Both of his team members promised support. They'd do anything to help Neal.
By a fluke, Sara Ellis called the same day. She tipped Burke off about a group of international insurance fraudsters and called in a favor at the same time. She had fallen for their trick, now her job was at stake. As a consequence, she asked the FBI for help to catch them.
Peter was excited. This was the pretext he had been looking for, a base to build upon the scheme to lure his friend out of his hibernation...
He would need Mozzie's support to make it work, as well as June's, and basically, the help of all of Neal's friends. Unfortunately, Mozzie as well as June still refused to talk to him. Both had cooperated to free Neal from prison; but ever since, they'd refused unwaveringly any contact at all.
After he had tried unsuccessfully all afternoon to call them, he went home, slightly frustrated. It was Friday, so he had hoped to set up everything over the weekend. Hence, he swallowed his remaining pride and asked Elizabeth for help.
By her request, Mozzie and June came over to convene at the Burke's home on Saturday. The mood was chilly, Caffrey's friends keeping a reserved attitude. They needed no words to bring home the message that Neal's poor condition was Peter's fault.
The FBI agent decided to be upfront with them instead of beating around the bush. "Look. If I hadn't acted like a complete moron we wouldn't be sitting here today. I'm aware of that."
Mozzie was amazed to hear that. "Now you're talking!"
June realized that their host was indeed dreading the conversation ahead. "Mozzie, just give him a chance to explain. I don't think he called us to listen to apologies. Probably, he has to tell us something important."
"Thank you June. Neal acting like vegetable isn't going to be a success story. He won't be able to get out of this state on his own. He needs our help, even though he doesn't want it. Correct me if I'm wrong."
June agreed, but couldn't see how this could work out. "All of us have tried to talk some sense into him, repeatedly. As soon as you start giving unwelcome advice he tunes out. He won't accept a helping hand."
"That's right. Therefore, we have to con him!" Peter's statement caused a moment of silence, until he filled in some details. "You don't cherish anything that you get for free. Whereas the things you have to fight for seem worthwhile. Let's make him go behind my back to solve a crime instead of me pushing him to do it!"
Mozzie was astonished. "I like the sound of your plan already, Suit. Conning the con man… What a challenge."
The FBI agent felt the need to scale down the expectations. "This is going to be dangerous. We're dealing with real, violent criminals; we're not play-acting. Once we've got started, there is no going back. We're going to con our friend into conning a criminal of the worst sort who in turn is conning an insurance company. This will be complicated and confusing. We have to go out our way to stay on top of things."
The little man had shining eyes. "Don't bother, Fed. You don't have to sell it to me. I'm in."
June, as well as El appreciated the skewed rationale behind the plan. Knowing Neal, they had figured out this was probably the only way to rescue him. Even though, it was a dangerous mission, full of risks.
They formed the scheme together, synchronized the actions to take, determining the role each of them would take on. Peter would seek the support of his fellow FBI agents. They all agreed, the secret mission would start Monday morning.
AN:
OK, did I already mention how impressed I am by all your reviews and messages? Probably, not often enough. Thank you. I really mean it.
This chapter was already written when the season's finale happened. I had planned some heart-to-heart talks between Neal and his father in this story. But not anymore... Therefore, I had to make some last-minute changes to this chapter. It would have been easier if Jeff Eastin might have told me in advance what a detestable person James is. But to my constant regret Eastin seems to be thinking he owns White Collar ;-)