A/N: So I feel like there may have been an unnecessary buildup to this chapter- I hope it doesn't disappoint!
Peter didn't want to worry El, so when she awoke the next morning (and he'd finally managed to get a few hours of sleep in himself), he told her that Neal was awake and okay.
Then he'd insisted on getting her some breakfast and himself some coffee while a nurse helped her go through her morning routine.
And after that he'd taken a few minutes to talk to Diana before returning to his wife and letting her know that Brooke had sneaked out of the hospital sometime last night.
He had just segued into cheerily updating her about the fact that he'd spoken to the doctor, and they'd be home in time to catch the game tonight, when he felt El squeeze his hand.
"You can't avoid him forever, Peter," the brunette told him, smiling knowingly. "You two are going to have to talk about it eventually."
Peter sighed, glancing at the love of his life. "I don't know what to say to him," he replied honestly. Neal, I'm eternally grateful that you came through—like you always do—and saved my wife, all the while putting yourself at risk to help stop a psychotic criminal, but I still should be sending you to prison for life for helping hide a priceless treasure stolen from a sunken Nazi U-boat? "I don't even know where to start."
"Hon, just be honest," she encouraged him. "He's probably just as lost as you are, and he should know what's going on, with the case and with you." The FBI agent smiled, leaning down to kiss her. "Hmm. Go," she ordered.
Peter made his way down the hall. It was practically empty compared to the day before—the only agents left besides himself were Rice's people left to sit on Keller, and he was in his secluded little room, tucked far away where nobody in this wing had to think about him.
He paused when he reached Neal's room. The agent couldn't help but smile as he lingered just outside the door, listening to the con and Sara's lighthearted conversation, the flirtatious behavior between them easily resurfacing as the insurance investigator regaled the other with her story of an ill-fated experience with a particularly stubborn horse as a girl that landed her in the hospital. He watched the closeness between the two of them as she sat across from him on his bed, the con's form gently upright and twisted to allow her more space.
It was Neal's more vigorous laugh that allowed him to catch sight of the man by the door. "Peter," he said happily, though the agent didn't miss the slight anxiousness in his greeting.
Sara's eyes flitted between the two men, and she shifted to place her feet on the ground. "I'm going to get some coffee," she told Neal resting her hand on his in assurance. "Maybe call Mozzie with an update—let him know it's safe to visit."
Neal grinned and held onto her a moment longer. "Thanks," he told her.
The two men listened as the heels clacked out of the room and disappeared down the hall.
"It's nice that Sara stuck around," Peter noted.
"Yeah, well; she was worried about Elizabeth," Neal replied casually, causing Peter to consider the con man.
"You don't think it has anything to do with you?"
"No—I mean, I know she was concerned," Neal answered, shrugging with his good shoulder and shifting his gaze anywhere but on the man in front of him. "But, when everything's back to normal…she had a reason for leaving."
"The treasure?" Peter hadn't realized how long his subconscious had been teasing that one out, but reflecting on the last twenty-four hours and Neal's surprised expression as he turned to him, everything easily fell into place. "She figured it out before all of this, didn't she?" And she walked away before he could leave, either for prison or a tropical island.
"She may have had an idea that there was something I wasn't being completely honest with her about," Neal admitted vaguely.
"There seems to be a lot of that going around," the agent replied.
Both men were silent. Peter hadn't meant to jump in so suddenly: the opening had just been there, and he'd spoken before he thought about it. And Neal—Neal just looked guilty.
"So, what now?" he finally asked , and Peter felt like this scene should be set in his living room, the older man standing as his teenage son-like partner sat on the couch, staring at the floor and waiting to be sentenced.
"What do you think Neal?" Wow, they were really going this route, weren't they? He took in the con man's figure, wondering how often this had happened in his no-doubt mischievous youth.
The con man nodded, as if Peter's words were the final nail in the coffin. "The Degas will be authenticated," he replied. "From there it's an easy jump to me and Moz—even if the treasure's never recovered, it's easily theft and forgery; and back to a lifetime of metal bars and bad coffee." He tried to shrug casually, smiling up at the agent. "At least I had a good run—I mean, I did okay, right?"
Peter still didn't say anything, watching as Neal's blue eyes wavered while he waited for the other to say something. "I don't know, Peter. Maybe we could try that Prison Pen Pals thing after all?" he joked, chuckling. "Or you could just come by to talk…you know, if you wanted."
Neal's smile faltered a little in the silence that remained. "Come on Peter, I know, okay? I know that I lied—that even though I really didn't steal it, I ruined everything by not walking away from the treasure; and that things just got worse and worse the more I tried to have both lives. I know that I'm the reason that all of this has happened, but you've got to believe I would never have done it if I'd known—never purposely put you and Elizabeth in danger…Peter, come on. I'm sorry, just…say something."
Peter still didn't know what to say, but Neal looked like he was going to leap out of bed and shake the man, so he moved forward, sitting next to him and placing his hand on the con's good shoulder.
"You're not going to prison," he finally admitted. Might as well start with the easy stuff. He almost laughed at Neal's shocked expression. "The crates in the U-haul, along with their contents, have all been declared forgeries."
"Well, yeah," Neal replied. "Moz was busy making replicas of the crates as soon as he heard about Elizabeth; then he just filled them with some of my pieces and that big crate with some gems he put together with that oven from the Burma case—that's why it took him so long to respond."
"He just filled it up with anything you had lying around?" Peter asked, distracted slightly by the contents he hadn't seen.
Neal shrugged. "He took some of the nicer pieces; believable in case someone did look. But Keller's never been into art except for the value. We figured he'd go straight for the gems. And he always lacked real expertise in authenticating pieces—he'd never be able to do it on short notice under pressure. He wouldn't have looked to appraise any of it until he was safely wherever he was going."
Peter nodded, conceding to the new information. Neal, on the other hand, shifted back to his puzzled expression.
"So nothing in the truck was stolen," Peter continued to explain. "And the forgeries were all reported as an official part of the sting. So there was nothing illegal to charge you with."
"But the Degas—" Neal pushed hesitantly, looking half-afraid to bring it up.
"All of the forgeries were reported as part of the sting," Peter repeated emphatically. "Including a forged Degas that was confiscated two days ago and checked out of the evidence locker in order to engage in a meet with Keller earlier yesterday." Peter still couldn't believe he'd tampered with evidence on his consultant's behalf. He had gone to the evidence locker as soon as the first meeting was established and signed out the forgery, wondering if Neal could use it to buy some time; only to later find the painting already in Keller's possession when they arrested him. He'd safely tucked the authentic piece into the forgery's place, rationalizing that he'd find a way to bring someone in to authenticate it, return it to the rightful owners, when the statute of limitations was up.
Neal really was a bad influence.
"So…everything's okay," Neal said slowly, half-way between a question and a statement.
Peter still said nothing, only sighing in a mixture of frustration and residual disappointment. "Well, no Neal, not really," he finally responded.
Neal finally met Peter's gaze with a smooth smile, "Come on Peter: we got Keller, Elizabeth's back; we're in the clear." Yet Peter noted the expression didn't quite reach his eyes. He found himself wondering if the man was really trying to convince the agent or actually trying to convince himself. He'd never really thought to consider it before.
"Legally, yeah," he allowed. "But what about us Neal? I trusted you, and you still tried to play both sides until someone forced your hand. I don't want you to sit there, thinking that everything's okay just because El's alive and you're not going to prison. The consequences for all of this Neal—it could've gone so wrong. We could have lost El; we could have lost you—"
"Peter, I know—"
The agent stared him down. "Do you, Neal? Really? Because there's a part of me that's afraid that you just don't get it—that you never will until you actually crash headfirst into rock bottom and lose everything."
The other man hesitated a moment, before murmuring something under his breath.
"What?"
Blue eyes met his, painful realization on them. "I did lose everything Peter—I felt completely alone yesterday, the minute you told me Elizabeth had been taken. I've lost people before, Peter, been responsible for what happened to them—" the agent knew his thoughts lingered on Kate "—but the last twenty-four hours…I almost welcomed the idea of prison as an alternative to having to sit in the office, at home, feeling like a traitor to everyone that looked at me."
He took a deep breath, and the two men were quiet, facing forward and watching their feet.
"So where do you think we go from here?" Neal finally asked.
Peter sighed again. "I honestly don't know," he replied. "I hadn't gotten this far yet." He took a breath. "Things will probably go back to square one for awhile—constant monitoring, a lot of doubt..." he held up Neal's tracking anklet, and watched his CI nod without argument out of respect for and understanding of the seriousness of the conversation. "There are a lot of hurt feelings running around on this one, not just mine. This isn't the kind of thing that's going to go back to normal overnight Neal."
The con nodded. "But it might, eventually," he looked up to his friend, blue eyes hopeful. "Go back to normal?"
Peter found himself placing his hand on Neal's shoulder again. "We're still a team, Neal. We're still your friends. Things may get back to where they should be if you can manage to stay out of trouble; remember which team you chose." Peter realized that was probably the best part of the whole conversation; taking that moment to establish between the two of them that Neal had chosen a side, even before Keller—that he'd chosen his team, and his life here, over the ultimate score that had fallen into his lap.
Neal smiled slightly as he nodded in assent, and Peter saw that his partner's thoughts echoed his own. There was still a lot to overcome, obviously, and nothing could go back to exactly how it was. Neither man was sure how Neal and El would change or adjust around the other; or whether the con and Sara's relationship would rekindle or convert into something more platonic; how the team would reincorporate their consultant into their family. There was a lot of unknowns in the long term.
But for now, the two men sat comfortably together on an uncomfortable hospital bed, knowing that despite everything, they were still partners, friends, and had each others' backs and best interests at heart.
Fade Out to Credits.
A/A/N: I chose to end with some resolution, but overall I left it the way I figured an episode would- with a conclusion for the short run, but an overall unknown in the long term. I hope you guys liked it, and would love to hear feedback :)