elrhiarhodan

Title: Return and Rebuild the Desolate Places – Chapter Fifteen
Author: elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, Elizabeth Burke, Mozzie, Reese Hughes, Clinton Jones, Diana Berrigan, Olivia Benson (L&O: SVU), Section Chief Bruce (McKinsey) Original Characters
Spoilers: White Collar, all of Season 5; no specific spoilers for L&O: SVU, but set in Season 15
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Kidnapping, torture (off-camera), rape (off-camera),
Word Count: This chapter – ~2600
Beta Credit: coffeethyme4me, miri_thompson, sinfulslasher, theatregirl7299
Story Summary: Six months after Neal disappears, Peter still has no answers and his decision not to go to Washington has had significant repercussions for both his career and his marriage.
Chapter Summary: Peter comes to a decision because he can’t keep doing this alone. Diana tries to talk some sense into him.

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Previous Chapters: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen

A/N: Title from Alan Hovhaness’ wind concerto, which takes it from the Old Testament. New chapters will be posted to my LJ every Thursday and to the relevant communities on Fridays.


Art by kanarek13



Sometime in Late January – Wednesday Afternoon

Peter had spent most of Tuesday fighting with the Bureau, with the Justice Department, with the assholes in Treasury, and getting nowhere, or worse than nowhere. The last person he’d talked – or rather fought – with said that Neal was facing life in prison. The powers that be were of the mind that while Caffrey had certainly been tortured, that was irrelevant. He had probably left voluntarily, and whatever happened afterwards was his own fault. Unless Peter could produce something solid, like a confession from his so-called kidnappers, it looked like Neal Caffrey was heading back to prison for life.

There was a card in his wallet, one he’d tried to toss more than a few times, but couldn’t quite bring himself to. A simple flick of the wrist would send it into the trash basket, a clenched fist would crumple it; he could trap it between the thumb and forefinger of each hand and pull. It wouldn’t take much to rip it half, then quarters, then eighths. To make confetti out of a single, insignificant piece of cardboard.

But it wasn’t insignificant.

The card was a promise, a debt, a threat. He hadn’t thought about using it when it was only about him. He probably should have, but back then he’d believed in justice. He’d trusted the system, he’d trusted that the people he loved and cared for and who cared for him would work within the rules to see that justice was done.

And for a while, he’d believed that this was just what had happened. That truth and justice prevailed and the innocent went free. Learning it was all a lie was the worst moment of his life. The truth broke something in him, shattering everything he was and everything he needed to believe about himself.

Even though he still wasn't sure he could be put back together, he swallowed the lie and he accepted what had happened. He had a wife and a life and the powers that be thought he walked on water. Revealing that it was all a carefully fabricated tissue of lies would only hurt the ones he loved. El’s life would be ruined and Neal’s …

Peter shuddered and refused to even complete the thought. He pulled out his wallet and found the card. For himself, he’d never make that call. For Neal, he had no choice. He looked at the card and swallowed hard against the rising sense of dread. This was going to cost him, and he was prepared to pay the price, no matter what.

The phone rang once, twice, and before the third ring finished, a woman’s voice – tight and clipped and as pleased as a cat who’d just swallowed the canary – said, “Special Agent Peter Burke – it certainly took you long enough.”

“Ms. Shepherd.”

“Call me Landon.”

Peter closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and kept a tight rein on his temper. “Landon.”

“What can I do for you?”

He took a deep breath. “I need your help.”

“I figured that’s why you’re calling me. But I would prefer to do business face to face. Meet me at The Four Seasons, at say … two o’clock?”

“That will be fine.” It wasn’t like he had a choice.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Diana left Neal’s room, stripped out of the protective clothing she’d needed to put on, scrubbed her hands and face for good measure, and left the hospital as if there were wings on her feet, all but running back to the office.

She wasn’t sure what was going on. She was appalled at Neal’s revelation that Peter hadn’t been in to see him. He’d been at the hospital on Saturday afternoon, waiting for the Justice Department and the NYPD to finish interviewing Neal. She’d thought it a little strange that when they were cleared to go in, only she and Clinton went. But she’d figured that Peter wanted to wait until things quieted down before spending time with Neal. She knew that Clinton had visited Neal again on Sunday and they both had gone over during lunch yesterday, only to be told that Neal wasn’t up to having any visitors. They’d come back to the office to find Peter pacing and talking on the phone, getting more and more agitated. Everyone could hear him shouting.

He’d noticed the staff was watching him and shut the blinds, something Diana had never seen him do in all the years she’d worked for Peter. But it wasn’t hard to figure out what was going on. Peter was arguing – with the higher-ups in D.C., with the Justice Department, with the people at Treasury. Arguing, and from the looks of it when he’d stepped out of his office, losing.

Hell, it was hard to believe it had been only a week since she’d gone with Peter to the Treasury Department, since they’d started pointing fingers at Neal for a counterfeiting scheme. And it was even harder to believe that the assholes at Treasury still believed he was part of it, despite the evidence of six months of torture written all over his body.

Ever since Neal had disappeared, Diana knew that Peter was walking a very fine line with the Bureau. Turning down the promotion had been only the beginning. He was still the best agent she’d ever met, but it was clear that he had stopped caring about the things that used to matter so much to him. Oh, not the things that made him such a stellar FBI agent, but the things which were the essence of Peter Burke – common courtesy, civility, patience, enthusiasm. His temper was uncertain, even with those who were on his side, and worse with the brass who seemed intent on putting Caffrey back in prison. Monday afternoon, watching the meeting with the higher ups from the Justice Department, she wished she was a fly on the wall.

But seeing Peter reach for his badge was like watching a car crash in slow motion and her heart almost burst through her chest. Peter couldn’t quit, he wouldn’t.

Whatever Bruce had said to him after the higher-ups from the Justice Department left, it seemed to work. She’d kept a discrete eye on Peter for the rest of the day, watching him make phone call after phone call. He didn’t go any further than the men’s room. At the time, she’d figured he was toeing the line, waiting until after business hours before going to see Neal.

At the FBI building, she waited with increasing impatience for the elevator to arrive, it was the tail end of the lunch hour and every car seemed to be stopping at every floor. She was about to give up and walk up the twenty-one flights of stairs when an elevator finally arrived. Luck was on her side and she made it all the way back to the White Collar division without stopping.

To her relief, Peter was at his desk, and even from the front of the office, she could see the grim expression on his face. She walked right past Clinton and practically walked over a probie who’d approached with a file and a question on her face. She didn’t even bother knocking on the door frame and barged right in. “Peter, what the hell is going on?”

“Excuse me?” Peter’s tone was icy and under different circumstances, Diana might have backed down and apologized, but something was terribly wrong and backing down would only make things worse.

She shut the door and stood in front of him, her arms crossed. “I just came from seeing Neal.”

Peter went absolutely still. He didn’t say a word, he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Aren’t you going to ask how he’s doing?”

“I know how he’s doing.”

“You do? You know that his wound’s become infected, his lung collapsed and they had to operate – to stick a tube in him and drain the blood and fluid?” She tried not to get emotional. “How, I have to wonder, since you haven’t been to see him. At all.”

Peter finally met her eyes; his expression was flat and emotionless. “Until he finishes his sentence, I’m still legally responsible for him and his well-being.” The laugh Peter gave at that statement made the hair stand up at the back of her neck. “I’ve spoken with his doctors every day and the hospital called me early this morning before they operated. It was a minor procedure that they did in his room.”

Diana nodded, but she still pressed. “But you haven’t actually seen Neal. Why?”

“Di, please – ” Peter scrubbed at his face, exhaustion in every drawn line.

“Peter, I don’t understand. You and Neal, you’re friends. I’d think you’re his best friend, Mozzie notwithstanding. Why won’t you go see him?”

Peter spun around in his chair and looked out at the wintry skyline. The day was clear, the sky an almost painfully bright blue. “It won’t be good for him, Di, if I was there.”

If it wasn’t for the desolation in Peter’s tone, she might have thought he was talking about repercussions from the Bureau and the Justice Department.

“Why, Peter? I talked to Neal and he’s desperate to see you. He wants to tell you that he didn’t run, that he had nothing do to with what happened.”

“I know that, Di – and you should have told him that.” Peter didn’t turn back to her.

“I did, I told him that you never thought he ran, that you had worked your ass off trying to find him, and you’re doing everything possible to keep him safe, but Peter – come on. He needs to see you; he needs to hear the words from you directly.”

Diana refused to talk to the back of Peter’s chair and walked around the desk, forcing her way into his space. “Tell me why you won’t go see Neal.” She stood there, arms crossed and chin jutting out.

“The Bureau – ” Peter started to explain, but even with those two words, Diana could hear the bullshit.

She called him on it. “I don’t believe you. Neal’s given his statement, Clinton and I have been in to see him multiple times. And don’t tell me that we’re different – we’ve worked with Neal, we’re his friends. If anything, I’d think that the Bureau would want you to talk to him now – especially if they’re doubting his statement. Neal trusts you, he doesn’t lie to you.”

Peter said nothing.

“What’s going on?” Diana gentled her tone.

“It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.” Peter’s words were a whisper, but the agony was like a scream.

“No! How could you even think that?”

“If I hadn’t found him, none of this would have happened.”

Diana was confused. “I don’t understand – if you hadn’t found him? What do you mean?”

“If I’d just let him go – back then. You know – after he ran.”

Diana blinked. “You mean, when he fled to Cape Verde?”

Peter nodded. “If I had just let it be, let him go, none of this would have happened. It’s all my fault.”

She stood there, stunned. Horrified. The weight of Peter’s guilt was finally understandable. If not particularly reasonable. “Peter, you couldn’t let him go. He was a fugitive and if Agent Collins – ”

He cut her off. “Collins would have never found him if I hadn’t reached out to Ellen Parker. If I hadn’t used her to get in contact with Neal. I should have just let him go. Let him live his life, free of that shackle, free from danger. Everything that’s happened, every horrible thing that’s happened in my life, in Neal’s life, has stemmed from that single stupid act.”

“You’re an FBI agent, Neal was – is – your responsibility. You couldn’t let it go. He runs, you chase him.”

“Not that time. It should have ended there. I told him to run. That day – I signaled him. I knew what Kramer had planned. He would have walked into that building, Phil would have slapped a set of cuffs on him and hauled him back to D.C. and he’d never have gotten his freedom.”

Diana had always suspected that Peter had tipped Neal off about Agent Kramer, but she hadn’t realized that he’d told him to run. “Peter, listen to me – this isn’t your fault. You did what was right – back then, and now. You can’t blame yourself for this.” She reached out and rested a hand on Peter’s shoulder. She’d give him a hug, but it didn’t seem right, at least not in this fishbowl of an office.

“He blames me, too.” This time, when Peter spoke, his tone was casual, as off-hand as if he was talking about what he’d had for lunch.

“No, he doesn’t. I’ve talked to him and he’s anxious to see you, he wants to see you. He misses you.”

Peter shook his head and blinked rapidly. Diana realized that he was crying. Or trying not to. “The night that Sergeant Benson came looking for Clinton and found me, we both went to the hospital. Neal was awake, conscious.” Peter wiped his face and looked as his fingers, as if he was surprised at the dampness he found there. “He looked at me and said that this was my fault, that I did this to him. That I’d forgotten about him and left him to die.”

Diana felt sick. She couldn’t imagine Neal ever saying anything like that, not to Peter. “He must have been drugged, Peter. He didn’t mean that.”

“No, he meant every word, Di. And you’re right; he probably was under some powerful narcotics. But I’ve seen Neal when he’s been drugged – and it’s when he’s the most honest. He says he doesn’t lie to me, but we all know that he shades the truth like a damn rainbow. He’ll let me draw conclusions and inferences and they could be the opposite of the truth. But not when he’s drugged. He can’t lie, he can’t dissemble, he has no filters. He can’t stop telling me what’s on his mind, how he feels, even if it’s the worst possible thing for him. What he told me that night was what he believes, deep down, and you know what? He’s right. Not that I forgot about him or I left him to die, but that it was all my fault.”

Diana didn’t know what to say. There was nothing she could say that could change Peter’s mind. Guilt and grief were destroying him from the inside out and he needed a lot more help than she could give him. “What did Elizabeth say when you told her?” She couldn’t imagine Elizabeth not slapping Peter upside the head and telling him that he was crazy for thinking like this.

If possible, Peter looked even worse at the mention of his wife’s name. He licked his lips and finally met her eyes. “I haven’t told her. We’re … not really communicating too well right now.”

There was such a terrible wealth of unspoken pain there. She’d realized that Peter wasn’t handling Elizabeth’s absence too well, but she couldn’t imagine Peter and Elizabeth not being Peter and Elizabeth.

“Peter, you need to go see Neal, you need to talk with him. You can’t keep going on like this.”

“I – ”

“Listen to me, Peter. Go see Neal, talk to him. You both need this.”

Peter’s eyes slid to some point over her left shoulder and he didn’t answer. Diana could see the muscles bunching in his cheeks, along his jaw and down his neck as he clenched his teeth.

“What are you afraid of?”

“Everything, Diana. Every. Damn. Thing.”

TO BE CONTINUED
Go to Chapter Sixteen