I don't own them; I'm just playing.

Postscript to "Point Blank"



"Look, I know you're angry. I made a mistake and I'm sorry. Can we at least talk about it."

"You didn't make a mistake, Neal. You made a choice. And I doubt that you're sorry."

"Peter, please"

"Don't. Don't tell me that figuring out the con didn't excite you. Don't tell me that you didn't have fun creating that file. Don't tell me there wasn't an adrenaline rush waiting to see if I'd take the bait. And don't tell me that in the end I wasn't just another one of your marks.

Do you want to know how it feels from the other side, to be conned by the great Neal Caffrey? It hurts, Neal. It hurts to feel used and cheated and manipulated and humiliated and stupid. Does any of that matter to you? I doubt it. You do the job and walk away without a thought for the devastation you leave behind. And the worst part is that I knew better. I knew what you are and what you do and I still let my guard down, because I believed, just like your other victims, that you wouldn't do it to me.

But part of the blame is mine because you warned me, Neal, didn't you, and twice at that. When you told me the better life I offered wasn't the life you wanted and when you said that the job here was just exchanging one prison for another. I should have listened but I was so sure that I was right about you, that there was a good man inside you, not just a man who sometimes did good things. Maybe there is but I know now that I'm not the one who can bring him out.

Trust but verify. Do you remember? There will only be "verify" from now on. Maybe we can deal more honestly together, now that neither of us has any illusions about our relationship.

Good night, Neal."