Am I the only one upset with Peter's lack of trust in "The Portrait"? As soon as he told Neal that he check's his anklet monitor every day, this song popped into my head. It's Miley Cyrus' "Fly on the Wall" It's LOOSELY based on the song, but it takes a turn off.
"Fly on the Wall"
"So, I see you went down to Grand Central Station again yesterday." Peter casually commented to Neal as he walked down the hallway to his office. "Oysters again?"
"Yeah, is that illegal? They're good for you, you know? Lots of vitamins."
Peter eyed Neal before pulling open the door to his office and ushering the young brunet in. "You never liked oysters before."
Neal couldn't help it, he stared at Peter. "Seriously? How do you know this stuff?"
"It's my job. I chased you for a long time; I was bound to learn a thing or two about you."
"Yeah…" Neal said trailing off, "It's like I've got my own private stalker." He flopped into Peter's chair and propped his legs up on the desk, earning a glare from the FBI agent.
"No." Neal pouted. "Your chair's so much comfier."
Oh no. There they were. Those brilliant blue puppy dog eyes that moved mountains. Peter rolled his eyes, but sat down in the visitor's chair.
"You want to tell me what you've really been doing at Grand Central?"
Neal, who had been mindlessly spinning his hat paused and looked at the older man. "I already told you. Lunch."
"I didn't see a charge on your card." Peter deadpanned
"Moz paid." Neal said with a shrug.
"Right." He said doubtfully. "How is Haversham?"
"Good. He's good."
An awkward silence settled over them as at the moment, they had no cases to work on. Neal stared distantly out the window watching the rain wash over the city. Peter took the chance to look over his convict.
His eyes were dull. If the bags underneath them were any indication, he hadn't slept for a few days. His suit was impeccable as always, but there was something off about it. It was almost like that day; the second time that he had arrested Neal. He looked, for lack of a better word, broken.
It was the wrong look entirely for someone who had solved yet another case. It was the wrong look for Neal. Even the sun knew it was wrong to shine when the boy looked like that.
"Oh, by the way, I noticed what you did with the Haustenberg." Peter blurted out to break the stifling silence.
Neal smiled, not taking his eyes off of the murky cityscape out of the window. Of course Peter had noticed.
"I noticed that you have yet to tell anyone else what you noticed that I did with the Haustenberg." He glanced over to his agent, some small part of him worried that this could be his last day of freedom.
"You've got to big of a heart to be a conman. I'm surprised it took as long to catch you as it did."
"I'm not sure whether to take that as a complement or an insult." He was back to twirling his hat, knowing that he was safe, at least for now.
Something had happened yesterday. Peter was sure of it. He just didn't know what; and when it came to Neal, he didn't like not knowing. Neal was his responsibility and if something was up, he needed to know.
"So Neal," he began "Anything happen this weekend?"
"No. It was pretty boring. There's nothing to tell."
"Neal, don't lie to me. I know you better than that."
Neal stood up so fast that the chair flew out behind him and threw his hat at Peter. It fluttered to the ground beside the agent.
"You think you know me! You think you know where I go, when I go, what I buy, what I like and don't like, how I feel, what I'm capable of! God! It's like you know more about me than I do. I bet you wish that you could be a fly on the wall so that you could actually see what I'm doing instead of having to pull up my stats, because everyone knows that's less satisfying.
"Cut the crap. If you want to know something, come out and ask. Don't try to be my friend. Anyways, there's nothing to tell you anymore.
"A few days ago I might have had something. Maybe I would have spun a tale for you about a damsel in distress, a villain and some hidden treasure, maybe. But now, there's absofuckinglutely nothing to tell you about. Got it? News flash Agent Burke, You may own me, but you don't really know anything about me."
Neal stormed across the room.
He didn't even look back. "I'm going to the bathroom, but you probably already knew that, didn't you?
Neal paused in the doorway. "Oh, and its fine with me that you don't trust me. I don't trust you either." He slammed the glass door behind him, leaving his agent to try and figure out what had just happened.
Peter felt like he was in shock. Neal's outburst had blown him away, and had apparently caught the attention of several people outside his office. They scattered as soon as they noticed him watching them. He was Agent Burke now? What in the world had that been about? He mentally replayed the conversation.
Damsel in distress… That had to be Kate. Something with Kate had happened over the weekend, something that had left the boy a mess. Great, now he had to go pick up the pieces. He hoped that Neal had indeed gone to the bathroom, he didn't want to waste time search for him when he really needed to be with him. His hopes were not in vain.
Neal was the only person in the bathroom. He was sitting on the floor, slumped against the wall. Peter turned and locked the door as soon as he was sure that he was the only other person in the room. He looked closer at the boy in front of him. Was he, was he crying? Oh God, Neal's face was blank, but there were tears streaking down his cheeks. He knew that he had said if he ever saw Neal crying that he'd tell him to cowboy up, but now that he actually had a crying Neal in front of him, he felt about as useless as he had with Diana. He wished that Elizabeth was here, she would know what to do.
"I was finished talking to you." Neal said without looking up.
"Good," Peter said as he took a seat on the floor by Neal, "because I was done listening."
"Now, I'm going to tell you what I think happened. I think you did something I told you not to. You went looking for Kate. I assume that's why you've been hanging around Grand Central station. You found her sometime over the weekend. And whatever you were expecting to happen didn't. Am I getting close?"
Neal drew his knees up to his chest and didn't answer.
"What did she say Neal?" Peter asked.
Neal shook his head.
"What did Kate say?"
Neal's lip quivered. "She said…"
"She said she wanted to come home." Neal was full on sobbing now, and Peter did the only thing he knew, wrapped his arms around him like he would have done for Liz and rubbed soothing circles on his back.
"And why is this a bad thing?"
Between Neal's sobs, and the Peter's shoulder, it was hard to hear what was being said but he understood something about a man with a ring, and some hidden cache that he could only assume was where Neal had hid everything.
"I told her no."
"Why?" he asked as he pulled away.
Neal met his eyes and said with dead certainty "Because I am a horrible person."
Peter felt his heart breaking. "Neal, don't you ever say that. Yeah, you've made some bad choices in your life, but that doesn't make you a horrible person."
Neal had stopped crying, but he was still shaking. "But you seem to take delight in pointing out what a bad person I am to everyone we come across. You never let me forget for one minute."
"Maybe I've been too harsh on you kid, but that's because I don't want you to make the same stupid mistake again. Believe me, you're not bad."
"Really?" he asked hesitantly.
Before Peter knew what was happening, Neal was kissing his cheek.
"What brought that on?" he asked as he glanced over at the conman.
Peter raised an eyebrow. "About what?"
"I do trust you." Neal looked at him expectantly.
Peter sighed and rolled his eyes. "I sort of kind of almost trust you."
Neal flashed his brilliant smile. "I'll take that."
"Good," Peter grumbled. "'Cause that's all you're getting right now. Now come on, this floor can't be good for your suit." He offered a hand to Neal.
The two stood up and Neal walked over to one of the sinks to wash his face.
"Time to face the world again."
"Oh God. Everyone heard earlier, didn't they?"
Peter nodded. "Glass walls my friend."
Neal bit his lip and tried to look adorable. "Can't I just stay here for the rest of the day?"
"Caffrey!" he said warningly.
"Wait!" Neal said as a thought dawned on him. "Where's my hat?"
"It's where you left it. On the floor"
Neal gasped. "You left the hat on the floor?" He rushed out of the bathroom intent on rescuing his hat.
Peter laughed, God he'd like to be a fly on the wall when Neal found his precious hat on Peter's desk instead of the floor. He started whistling and walked at a much slower pace to his office.
Jones walked up behind him. "How's Caffrey?"
"Oh he's going to be just fine." Peter said with a smile.