Chapter 5
Neal and Burke wandered down the streets of New York. Peter leading the way and Neal keeping pace. A group of private school kids walked down the street in uniforms, laughing as they talked. A father pushed a pram as he pressed a phone to his ear talking emphatically. Another student rushed by eyes fixated on his phone so much so that he bumped straight into Neal. He moved on without so much as an apology.
Neal and Peter walked, falling into polite conversation. Peter talked about interesting cases he's worked on in the past and baseball games he's seen. Neal smiled, easily interjecting banter, maintaining flow and distance. As the pair reached the ice cream shop Peter noted, surprisingly, that he enjoyed talking with Neal. The kid was insightful, and he had a hell of a brain.
The unlikely pair slowed as they reached a small but well-kept ice-cream shop. A brightly coloured door welcomed them inside. Moments later the two sat in a table, overloaded ice-creams in hand.
"Triple chocolate? Really?" asked Neal as he looked at the precariously stacked ice cream that was melting its way off Peter's cone.
"What's wrong with triple chocolate? This is a classic flavour." Peter stated, incredulous.
"Just one chocolate flavour wasn't enough? They just had to triple it up?" Neal smirked.
"Oh, you can talk about over-the-top ice-creams Mr Maple and Walnut Gelato."
"Hey! You talk about classics? This is a classic. Maple and Walnut flavours complement each other perfectly." Neal deadpanned.
Peter chuckled and a smile cracked over Neal's face.
"My dad used to take me here," Peter said.
Neal paused, wary of the non-sequitur. "Really?" he asked.
"He would pick me Sundays right after baseball. If we won we'd celebrate and if we lost we'd commiserate. One of the places we'd go to was this shop."
Peter smiled at the memory.
"I must have tried every flavour in here, and let me tell you. Nothing. Nothing. Beat's the triple chocolate ice-cream."
Neal inclined his head, "Okay, you win. I'll let you enjoy your excessive, nostalgic ice-cream in peace."
Their table was situated in the corner of the restaurant. Neal relaxed with his back to the wall and his feet rested on a chair beside him. From this vantage point, Neal had a full view of everyone in the shop and easy access to both the exits. Peter considered that the kids outwardly relaxed demeanour might not be all that represented of what was going on in his head.
"What about Maple Walnut then?" Peter questioned.
Neal thought about it, "It's classy."
"Is that what matters? How 'classy' an ice-cream is."
"Perception matters Peter."
Perception does matter. If you could change what people believe, then you might as well be altering reality. After all, how can we know reality to be anything other than what we perceive it to be? Everyone lies. We lie to ourselves when we think we'll go to bed after the next chapter. We lie to each other when we say "I'm fine, thank you" and "We'll catch up sometime". We lie when we tell ourselves that working with FBI is a ploy for protection and that we don't care whether the Burkes genuinely care about us. Okay, maybe that last one was just Neal. But these lies, they construct a world that is so much easier to deal with than reality. Wilful deception, Neal thought, is nothing more than being aware of the lies everyone spins that make this world bearable and going along with it anyway.
"Do you want anything else, before I pay the bill?" Peter asked, getting up.
"No, I got mine," Neal replied.
Peter stopped. "What do you mean 'you've got it'?"
Neal pulled out a wallet and held out some money.
"I mean; I've got it." he repeated.
Peter sat back down and looked directly at Neal. "Where did you get this?" he asked.
Neal scoffed, "What? Am I not allowed to have money now?"
"Neal I saw what you had in juvie with you, and you haven't been outside a 20-meter radius from me since. So, I'm going to ask you again; where did you get this?"
"You looked into my personal belongings?" Neal gawked.
"I know what you doing Neal! Don't dance your way around my question. Where did you get the wallet Neal?"
Neal stared down Peter. "I found it." He stated.
"Uh huh," Peter replied, obviously not convinced. "And where did you find it?"
"In that asshole's pocket who bumped into me earlier."
"Damn it, Neal!" Peter ran his hand over his face. He turned to the side, hands on hips. Then took a deep breath before facing Neal again.
Peter held out his hand, "Give it here."
Neal paused, mouth open as if to say something. But he stopped. Neal handed over the wallet, glowering at Peter as he did.
Opening to the wallet Peter pulled out the ID to check who it belonged it.
"It's not like he needed to money, I mean look at his– "
Peter held up his hand, cutting Neal off. He took a deep breath.
"We are going to return this too," He held up the ID card to Neal, revealing the name "Jonathan Tracy, and you are going to hope that he doesn't press charges."
Neal rolled his eyes, "This is ridiculous! He was practically begging for – "
Peters hard eyes locked onto Neal's and Neal stopped. He continued to stare Neal down, but as his firm gaze turned to open. Neal looked away.
The two sat back down on the table. The silence pressed against them like humidity hanging in the air. It felt strange after their easy conversation before. Neal felt something heavy rising in the pit of his stomach. Was this… was this guilt? No. It was just some pick-pocking. Not like it was a big deal or anything. Then why did he feel – Neal stopped himself. He did not want to think about this.
"Why did you do it, Neal?" Peter asked.
Neal looked at Peter. He considered crafting a perfect reply, but something told him Peter wasn't going to by it.
Neal shrugged.
Peter waited, unconvinced with the non-committal response.
Neal put his elbows on the table, folding his arms in front of him.
"I don't like being in your debt, okay?" Neal blurted, with more fire than intended.
If Peter was taken aback by Neal's honest reply he didn't show it.
"What about Caleb Tracy. Aren't you now indebted to him?" Peter asked.
"That different."
"No. It's not."
"Yes. It is."
"Okay, then enlighten me."
Neal pulled back. "Are you going to report me?"
Stealing. Crime. Go directly to jail. Go not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.
"I don't know." Peter replied.
"I don't know why I'm so disappointed El. I mean, he's a criminal. I saw this coming from a mile away."
El looked up from her book, turning to listen to her husband.
"We returned the wallet. Jonathan was kind enough not to press charges. I think he was just glad to have it back." Peter sighed, "I guess it's just Neal's nature."
"You don't believe that," El responded. "Of course, he didn't change instantly, no one does. Honey, it takes time. Of course, you're disappointed. You're relying on him, trusting him."
"It's foolish," Peter replied.
"Maybe." El smiled. "But it's why I love you."
Neal paced silently his room. Five minutes till midnight. Peter and El must be asleep by now. He slowly opened the guest bedroom door and glanced down the hall. Yes, their bedroom door was closed and no light came from underneath it. He turned to walk slowly down the stairs. Neal crept on the balls of his feet, unwilling to let any small sound give him away.
He relaxed as he reached the lower level of the house, convinced that his small sounds wouldn't be sufficient to wake the Burkes. The last thing he wanted was Peter catching him breaking the rules – again. Anger flared in Neal's stomach. Peter thinks he can tell me what to do. Neal thought. Who does he think he is? He's not my father. What's it to him?
Neal reached out and took Peter's landline phone and dialled the number he'd memorised.
"Neal, 12 o'clock on the dot. Punctual as always I see." Neal smiled at the sound of Mozzie voice. His long-time friend had a way of making him feel at home.
"Hey Moz." Neal greeted. "What did you find out about Keller? Is he still looking for me?"
"Uh, about that. I ran into your little friend earlier today."
"What?" Neal said, fighting to keep his voice down.
"It's okay," Mozzie reassured, sensing Neal's panic. "I'm okay. It's not as bad as you think. He had a message for you."
Neal paused. "A message?" he asked.
"Well, a job actually," Mozzie said. "When you were caught, you had the necklace on your person. The FBI now have it in evidence lock-up. Keller wants it back."
Neal laughed. "He wants me to steal it back, from the FBI."
"Well, you always did like a challenging heist," Mozzie interjected.
Neal paused, running his mind over the pros and cons. "You think I should do it?" He asked.
"Yes."
"You warned me against working with him."
"I'd say it's a little late for that at this point." Mozzie added, "It's the same pay cut as the original heist. It's a good job, Neal. We'll work it together. I've missed working with you. Things have been boring out here without your escapades to brighten the night."
Neal smiled at that. He did miss the thrill of a case, working with Mozzie.
"And," Mozzie added, "he didn't seem to be asking."
"Okay," Neal said. "I'm in."
As Neal and Mozzie talked logistics of the heist Neal began to feel that same creeping guilt in his stomach. He pushed the unfamiliar emotion aside. What did he care about Peter? He's just a Fed. It doesn't matter want he thinks.
It doesn't matter, Neal lied.