Work Text:
Raphael's St George and the Dragon
oOo
"Neal, the FBI is looking into your love letters with Kate," Bryce said as soon as Neal opened the door. "Is there any reason that that should worry me?"
"We talked in code, obviously," Neal said. "I suppose it's possible they might crack it."
"And did you say anything incriminating in the letters? Something that could be used to derail your commutation?"
"Just… Oh. Just the Raphael." Neal admitted quietly. Through a lot of work with his therapist he had gotten over both Kate's death and the revelation that she was an undercover NSA agent using him to further her alias. It still hurt, though, to think about the crimes that he had committed just to get her attention: each one bigger and more extravagant, more daring, more careless. The idea that he might not have been caught by the FBI if it wasn't for her, while she was a government agent who had been using him all along, still stung.
Bryce sighed. "Ah yes, your courting gift for Kate. And is there any chance that they could find out where you hid it?"
Neal screwed up his face in concentration, trying to think through everything the FBI had on him. "Maybe?"
"Alright, where is it?"
"With Ellen," Neal admitted.
"Ellen? She never told me!" Bryce chuckled. "Alright, I'll go retrieve it from her and tuck it away somewhere else. Problem solved."
Neal shook his head, "She won't give it to you. And I can't go with you… maybe I could call her?"
"I'd worry about a phone tap," Bryce said. "Oh, hang on. We'll use my phone. Record a short video with both of us in frame, so she knows it's you. Tell her in a cryptic way, and I'll delete it afterwards, just in case."
"That's a good first half, but I've got a better second half," Neal said, eyes gleaming. "What if I do a forgery — or a reproduction, rather. I'll sign it to Kate and everything. Then we leave that in its place." It was a risky suggestion: though Bryce's view on the law was more grey than, say, Peter's, he still believed that covering up a crime was generally wrong. On the other hand, Bryce hadn't been pleased to learn that the NSA was using Neal, and since this was related to Kate, he might be more willing to go along with it.
To Neal's relief, Bryce's eyes lit up. "You were trying to get Kate's attention, and when the real one was stolen, made a copy in the hopes that it would appeal to her and she'd think you'd pulled it off," Bryce realized. "That's brilliant! I'll take the real one, and in a few years my friends in Burbank can discover it. That is, if you don't mind giving it back?" he teased.
Neal grimaced. "I'd prefer it, actually. There's a few things that I did for Kate… well I'd much rather get rid of them." Neal wasn't naive enough to think that he deserved to get away scot free from his criminal past. Not that anyone could call four years in maximum security and another two and a half on an anklet 'scot free.' But Bryce was the legally-minded one of the two, and if Bryce thought that he'd been punished enough, and was willing to help him with his commutation, Neal didn't particularly feel like arguing.
"We'll turn you into a law-abiding citizen yet," Bryce teased, clearly wanting desperately to avoid any melancholy about Kate. "Alright, I'll go grab you some supplies while you plan that message for Ellen."
"Do you even know what to get?" Neal couldn't resist the jab.
"This isn't my first supply run for you, remember?" Bryce tossed back over his shoulder on the way out. Neal knew enough to know that Bryce would go in disguise — neither of them would want a current art purchase that could be linked to the Raphael. And, as much as Bryce didn't paint himself, he had certainly watched Neal do it often enough to get the right things. Bryce could handle it, but Neal still couldn't help but worry.
oOo
"Kramer here."
"Agent Kramer, this is Brian Anderson, Special Deputy to the to the Assistant Director of Criminal Investigations," Bryce said commandingly, conveying through his tone exactly how subservient he expected Kramer to be.
"Yes Sir, how can I help you?" his tone modulated somewhat, but not as much as Bryce would like. If anything it confirmed his suspicions about the agent who thought he was above the law.
"I see that you put in a request to go to the New York branch with regard to the Caffrey commutation hearing."
Kramer perked up. "I did, yes, Sir. I believe—"
"Denied." Bryce cut him off.
"Excuse me?"
"Denied," Bryce repeated. "That will be all."
"Now see here a minute!" Kramer protested.
"Listen, Kramer, I don't tolerate it when my agents backtalk me," Bryce overrode him again. "That is your first and only warning. Unless you want to be solving Art Crimes in Anchorage next week I suggest you hold your tongue."
Bryce could practically hear Kramer's teeth grinding as he managed a "Yes, Sir."
"Good. Now, I'm going to ask a few questions, and I expect short answers. "How many CIs have you had over the years?"
"About a dozen."
"And of those, how many did you arrest after they became your CIs?"
There was a brief pause before Kramer admitted, "All of them."
"Interesting," Bryce said, as though it was anything but. "Are you aware of the recidivism rates for federal prisoners?"
"Sixty percent in the first two years," Kramer said promptly.
"Sixty is the general rate," Bryce corrected him. "The Federal rate is only fifty percent. Even so, statistically, at least forty percent of your CIs should have become model citizens. How… odd."
"Some of those CIs were my friends, but they—"
"I'm sure you believe that," Bryce cut him off again. "But the numbers speak for themselves. Your track record with CIs is low, even by Bureau standards. In fact, I'm submitting a note to your Division Head that you be given training in how to better work with your informants. Other offices have made some impressive breakthroughs in this area."
"I have been doing this for over—"
"And you appear to still be stuck a few decades in the past," Bryce taunted. "Your methods are archaic, and I've heard from several team leaders who have had to update and train those coming from your Division." That wasn't even an exaggeration. Bryce had gotten suspicious and looked into it after Matthews had been sent to New York, to consult on a case where Conartist Extraordinaire Neal Caffrey was a suspect, without even being warned what he looked like. Kramer operated on a 'need to know' policy with his agents, and that didn't translate well in other offices or even divisions.
Kramer seemed to have been shocked into silence, and before he could gather his wits, Bryce continued. "Now, Kramer, when a criminal is caught, who determines if charges should be pressed?"
"The FBI," he said sullenly.
"Wrong," Bryce snapped back. "We are the Federal Bureau of Investigations, not the Federal Bureau of Trials. Who actually determines if there is enough evidence for a trial?"
Finally Kramer got it. "The attorneys."
"Exactly. Now, who decides the guilt of the alleged criminal, Kramer?"
"A jury," he growled, avoiding the same trap as before. Bryce had to give him points for that.
"And who determines the sentence?"
"The judge."
"Are you an attorney, judge, or currently on a jury, Kramer?" Bryce pressed.
"I am not, but—"
"No back-talking," Bryce growled. "You requested to go to New York for the Caffrey commutation. Your argument, I believe, is that Caffrey is too invaluable a resource to the FBI to be allowed his freedom, correct?"
"Not in so many words."
"You have already admitted that you are neither attorney, judge, or jury. I shall add to that list parole officer, member of the clemency board, or Governor. In other words, you have nothing to do with Caffrey's commutation. If you believe that he has committed other crimes, then you have two options. The first — if they are art crimes — is to investigate them and then submit your evidence to the DA. The second option — if they are not art crimes — is to forward your suspicions to the correct department and then drop them."
"Sir, with respect, the fact that Caffrey has committed other crimes—"
"Allegedly," Bryce interjected.
"—is relevant to his commutation." Kramer continued undaunted. "The clemency board needs to know who they're dealing with."
"Do you believe the board is illiterate?" Bryce said. "Do you believe they cannot read his file, containing all of those suspicions? Do you think that Agent Burke, who not only investigated those cases, but is speaking to the board, is unaware of his own work?"
"Peter is too close to this," Kramer insisted. "His thinking is compromised. A neutral party should do this research."
"You think the clemency board is not a neutral party?" Bryce asked skeptically. "That is literally their function. That is the reason that Burke is testifying before them — as are many others — and turning over his data to them."
"I know I can contribute to this investigation, Sir."
"Ah, and that is one of the fundamental flaws in your thinking," Bryce sneered. "Two, actually. The first is that you believe that there is an FBI investigation to be had when there is not. The clemency board is conducting an investigation; the FBI is not. The second flaw is that, once again, I must remind you that you are the head of the Art Crimes division in DC. Are there no actual art crimes for you to be investigating right now? If your office is so devoid of work that you can take time off to fly to another city for a witch hunt into an unrelated matter, perhaps I need to disband your unit and send you over to Anchorage after all."
"Caffrey could do some good here!" Kramer protested.
"Then when he is a free man, either in a few months after his commutation, or in a few years when his sentence is over, invite him to apply for a job," Bryce snapped. "This is not a country of martial law, where we conscript people into indentured servitude. Request denied."
With that, Bryce violently pressed the 'end call' button. There was something hugely unsatisfying about not being able to slam a phone into the cradle like you used to be able to. That done, Bryce decided to get up and do a few katas to calm himself down. Kramer was too stubborn; there was no way he was letting this go.
Once he was calm enough, Bryce could call Kramer's supervisor and explain what had happened, so that when Kramer did make his play, Bryce would have full support to destroy him. Hopefully the image of a disgraced former agent attempting to regain his old glory via modern-day pseudo-slavery would not impress the clemency board.
oOo
"So, are you going to speak?" Neal asked casually.
Bryce wasn't fooled; he knew what a big deal this commutation was to Neal. "Yes, actually."
"As Anderson, or…"
"Both, as it happens."
"How is that going to work?" Neal stopped stirring the spaghetti sauce to look over his shoulder at Bryce skeptically.
"Well, I could use a wig and makeup to age myself and disguise our relationship," Bryce pointed out. "But actually, Anderson is submitting an affidavit and then doing a conference call to answer any questions, since he won't be in New York for the hearings."
"Oh," Neal turned back to the stove. "So you're coming in person as Bryce?"
"I am."
"June was wondering if having a twin would make things worse for me — something about the fact that I've hidden it making me less reliable or something." Neal said even more casually.
"I thought of that, actually," Bryce said, "and I talked to the Director about it." He paused as the oven beeped and Neal opened it to put in the garlic bread; he wouldn't have been heard over the crinkling foil. Once Neal was done, Bryce continued. "I'm going to testify as Bryce Caffrey, CIA agent. The reason you kept quiet about me was for my own safety, not your cons."
Neal chuckled. "That's actually the truth."
"I know, shocking," Bryce teased. "I'm also coming clean about James Readling." After what Neal did for Elizabeth, sacrificing himself to the fugitive Matthew Keller, the Director had been more willing to go along with Bryce's plan.
Neal spun around, wide-eyed. "You're telling them about the forgeries?"
"Not without your permission, but I've been cleared to share those cases. You signed all of them with the code phrase, right?"
Neal nodded.
"Then they're reproductions, not forgeries. I know from his case notes that Peter already suspects at least two of the Readling pieces are yours, and this would cut Kramer off at the knees."
"Kramer?" Neal took a moment to place the name. "Peter's old mentor from DC? What's he got to do with anything?"
"He's the one who's been looking at your letters to Kate. He's trying to get your sentence extended and then have you transferred to DC to increase his close rate," Bryce spat.
"What?" Neal blanched.
"Don't worry. Anderson already point blank denied his request, and I recorded the dressing down I gave him. Anderson also spoke to Kramer's boss about his unhealthy obsession with you, falling close rate, and abysmal CI record. He was informed that, unless he had evidence that you specifically committed an art crime, he was to keep his beak out of it. If he leaves DC during your hearing his boss has already agreed to suspend him, and if he arrives in New York I'm going to get him fired."
"That seems… harsh?" Neal offered.
"You don't know the man," Bryce disagreed. "He's stuck in the past, living off his own glory. His close rate has dropped down to around average, and his agent turnover rate is high. His agents are also lacking in certain areas that need to be remedied once they transfer — for example, the one you conned for Mozzie. He has a one hundred percent record of throwing his CIs back in prison, and he would never accept any of the advances that Peter's made in CI relations. If you put your CI in a no-win situation, then — shockingly — they won't win."
"Oh," Neal said quietly. Another beep alerted him and he quickly set about straining the pasta. "So he wants me to be his next pet?"
"Yup. Anderson already chewed him out, though, and told him in no uncertain terms to drop it. If he disobeys, that's insubordination and grounds for dismissal. Especially once they hear the recording explaining my reasoning."
Neal started bringing pots over to the table. He had initially wanted to put everything into serving dishes, but Bryce convinced him not to create a bigger mess — he had no problem serving himself straight out of the pot. Bryce had already laid out the place settings, and had gotten out a beer for himself and Neal's current half-empty bottle of wine.
"Neal, if Kramer approaches you, or even calls you, you need to contact me immediately, alright?" Bryce said sternly. "I don't trust him, and I wouldn't put it past him to do something like provoke you, or just arrest you, to keep you from your commutation. Anything he says comes to me, got it?"
"Got it," Neal agreed seriously. "But you as Bryce, or Anderson?"
"Either number, but no names. Say 'Code Captor', or work 'conscript' into a sentence and I'll know. What I'll do will rely on the situation, but I'm serious about avoiding him. Leave the room, lock yourself in a closet, whatever. Nothing illegal, obviously, but give me time to get there and don't give him a chance to get you on anything. Witnesses other than his own agents are a plus: I'd give you a body cam if I could get one in time."
"Mozzie has a few Russian surplus spycams," Neal offered, pulling the bread back out of the oven. "I know he's got one in a pen that you'd put in your breast pocket, a few pairs of glasses, and some others just hanging around that he could embed into anything."
"Perfect!" Bryce smirked. "Use all of them. It wouldn't hurt to bug your desk, too, in case he tries to plant something. And here, come to think of it. I also want you to have a second tracker on a secure line. I wouldn't put it past him to have a source in the Marshal's office or OPR — they've both changed the data before."
"You really don't trust this guy," Neal realized.
"I don't. He rubs me the wrong way," Bryce admitted.
"Well, Mozzie will be thrilled to bug the hell out of my life, so why not." Neal agreed. "Now no more shop talk — eat up."
oOo
Neal was exceedingly grateful for Bryce's paranoia when Phil Kramer strode into the White Collar office barely four hours before he was due at the hearing. Thanks to it, he was wearing two cams — the pen and a tie clip — and a watch with tracking and audio, not to mention the other three cams secreted around his desk. Neal quickly palmed his phone and pressed one on his speed dial, even as he tried to angle himself to get the best shot with the cameras.
"Agent Kramer? What are you doing here?" Peter asked as he opened his office door.
"I'm here to commandeer your CI," Kramer said cheerfully.
"I'm afraid you can't conscript me this afternoon," Neal said with a falsely bright smile. "I have other plans."
"Are you refusing to assist the FBI with an investigation, Neal? I'd hate to have to report that to your commutation board."
As Neal gaped at him in disbelief, Kramer turned to Peter. "I just need to borrow him for a few days, Petey."
"Neal's not a library book you can just check out," Peter frowned as he came down the steps, pausing between Neal and Diana's desks. Out of the corner of his eye, Neal noticed that everyone was watching the drama unfold. He had all the witnesses Bryce could want.
"Oh, you know I didn't mean it like that, Petey," Kramer's smile didn't reach his eyes.
"I'm required to speak at my commutation hearing this afternoon," Neal said clearly. "I'm not refusing to work with you, but I think the board would frown on me blowing them off, too."
"I'll have a few words with them," Kramer assured him blithely. "They'll understand."
"Why would you speak at my hearing?" Neal affected surprise. "You barely know me?"
"Kramer!" Neal had never heard Hughes sound so furious. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Reese! I'm here to borrow a few of your boys for a case I'm working." Kramer said cheerfully.
"You were already told in no uncertain terms that you were to leave Caffrey and his commutation hearing alone." Several heads that had been staring at their boss now swiveled towards Neal. Hughes didn't miss a beat. "I just got off the phone with Alan Mitchim and he said to tell you that you're suspended for disobeying a direct order. And I know for a fact that Deputy Anderson threatened to can you if you torpedoed this hearing."
"I'd say that ordering Neal to work for him when he's supposed to be testifying would count as 'torpedoing'," Peter said furiously. Neal was slightly surprised at how quickly Peter had shifted his allegiance this time; he'd spent most of the other case cozying up to Kramer and giving Neal the cold shoulder. Though, after everything with Keller, perhaps he shouldn't be.
"Berrigan, Blake, escort Kramer here to one of our holding cells, and confiscate his gun and badge while you're at it," Hughes ordered.
"It doesn't matter," Kramer said. His tone was still full of that false cheer, but his gaze was cold. "My boys are in the process of recovering a certain bit of evidence as we speak. They'll be here before your hearing, and then we'll see how long we can extend your sentence."
"I thought the FBI were supposed to be the good guys," Neal muttered as he sank back in his seat. He was pleased to notice that Diana and Blake showed Kramer absolutely no courtesy as they removed his badge and gun before hustling him down the hall.
"And criminals are supposed to be the bad guys," Peter said tiredly, coming to stand beside his desk.
"Peter, I—"
"Don't." Peter held up his hand. "Just tell me this: when Kramer's guys get here, are they going to be carrying something that would change my testimony this afternoon?"
"I… don't know." Peter frowned, and Neal hurried to add, "Peter, I don't know what exactly he's talking about." Peter nodded, accepting that. Neal could have left it there, but if Bryce was right… "But, Peter, if it's what I suspect, then no. I don't think it will change anything."
When, thirty minutes later, Sara strode into the White Collar office, Neal knew that Bryce had definitely been right. There was a chance that she was there to talk to him before this afternoon, but since she had given her testimony yesterday, Neal doubted it.
"Sara?" he rose to give her a quick peck on the cheek, ignoring Jones's quiet wolf-whistle.
"Sara? I thought you went yesterday?" Peter called down from his office.
"Um, I did." Sara looked around guiltily. "Neal, can we talk in the conference room?"
Neal glanced at Peter, who had come to his door. "Fine with me," he agreed.
"I think Peter should come with us," Neal said.
"Neal, I'm not sure…"
"Sara, I think I know why you're here, and Peter should hear it. Then we can tell you all about our visitor this morning." Neal assured her.
"If you're sure," she said quietly.
Neal glanced around and sighed. "You might as well come too," he said to Jones and Diana. "Peter's just going to have to bring you in when they get here."
Once the five of them were settled in the conference room, Peter and the others told Sara about Kramer's visit. She was appalled at his behavior, and clutched Neal's hand in sympathy. Neal accepted the comfort: he was nervous about all of this — Bryce's plan, needing to lie to Peter, how it would affect his hearing — his stomach was a bundle of nerves, just like it was before a sting or con. And just like a sting or con, he ruthlessly suppressed them and tried to get the job done.
When they finished, Peter turned to Sara. "So what brings you here?"
"My boss got a call first thing this morning. He didn't know the caller, but he identified himself as an FBI agent and said that if I got here before noon I'd be able to recover a painting I'd been searching for for years."
"The Raphael," Diana connected the dots.
"Kramer thinks he found it?" Jones asked.
Neal nodded. "Before I explain, can you promise to let me get it all out before jumping to conclusions?"
Peter immediately protested. "I don't jump t—"
"Severed. Tie." Neal ticked the words off on his fingers.
"Rebuttal retracted," Peter sighed as Diana snickered.
"I have a… a contact in the city," Neal began. "I've done my best to keep her from being associated with the name Neal Caffrey — I don't want anyone like Wilkes or Keller to find her. Peter, I'm asking you, as a friend, not to pursue her identity. Kramer might have already put her in danger; given his display this morning I can't trust him to be quiet about her."
"Is she a criminal?" Peter asked.
Neal shook his head, smiling fondly. "She's the furthest thing from a criminal you could find."
"Then I won't pursue it," he agreed.
Neal sighed in relief. "I didn't even tell Mozzie about her. Well, he knows her name, but not how to find her. But I told Kate. I told her just in case I— prison can be dangerous, you know? In case I didn't make it back out…"
Neal took a deep breath. Learning the truth about Kate still hurt, and putting himself back in the memories and emotions of that time period wasn't helping his stress this morning. Fortunately, Sara just gave his hand a squeeze while the others waited patiently.
"I sent her one thing, for safekeeping. If Kate ever wanted it, she could go to my contact and get it."
"The Raphael," Peter guessed.
"She has a Raphael—" Neal began.
Just then the door burst open, revealing two agents Neal didn't recognize: one holding a package that he definitely did. "Where's Agent Kramer?" the first one said.
"He's busy at the moment," Peter said. "Is that the painting?" He held out his hand and beckoned in a 'give it here' gesture.
The second agent hesitated, but the first approached and handed it to Peter. "It was exactly where Agent Kramer said it would be," he boasted. "The old lady didn't want to give it up, but we persuaded her,"
"Did you hurt her?" Neal asked immediately.
Both agents sneered at him.
"Agents, did you hurt a civilian in the process of obtaining this evidence?" Peter growled.
They exchanged a glance before the second one frowned. "We only intimidated her, Sir,"
Neal's phone beeped, and he glanced at it. "They trashed her home," he read Bryce's message aloud, "and threatened to throw her in solitary confinement and lose the key."
"She was a criminal," the first agent blustered.
"Not until she's been convicted of a crime," Jones pointed out mildly.
"Sit down there and write up the report for me," Peter said coldly. "Don't leave out a thing. Once you're done, I'll have you shown to your boss. Blake!" he called past them.
As the agents filed away, Blake bounded up the stairs past them. "Blake, when they're done writing up their reports, I want you to get help and then take them to join their boss," Peter said seriously.
"Join him for a visit, or join him as his new neighbors?" Blake asked carefully.
Peter glanced at Neal and then grinned savagely at Blake. "Neighbors, Blake. Neighbors who have pissed me off."
"Got it, Sir!" Blake gave a snappy salute and then bounced out the door.
When the door had closed, everyone looked back at the tube in Peter's hand.
"Peter, before you open that, I want you to remember the music box," Neal said.
"The music box that got us into all this mess?" Peter asked sharply.
Neal squirmed. "Not exactly what I meant. And Sara, I'm sorry, but not for the reason you think." He hated lying to them in this way, but it was necessary. Especially when faced with spending the rest of his life as the personal pet of Phil Kramer. Surely he hadn't done anything terrible enough in his life to deserve that fate!
Peter opened the tube and carefully slid out the contents. Sara gasped as the painting was revealed, obviously recognizing the Raphael. As Peter began to unroll it, however, her expression slowly morphed into a frown.
Seeing that, Peter stopped with a few inches to go. "Sara?"
"Something's off," she murmured.
"That's impressive," Neal said, actually meaning it. "You must have studied it a lot while you were chasing me."
"What do you mean, off?" Peter demanded.
"Not sure…" Sara murmured.
"Just keep going — and flip it over," Neal said quietly.
Peter did as instructed, and there, written in small font across the bottom was the message Neal had added. I'd slay a dragon for you, Kate. ~Neal
"The faces," Sara gasped.
Peter flipped the painting back over and everyone but Neal leaned in to look closer. "St. George looks just like Neal," Diana realized, shocked. "Is that—"
"Kate," Peter confirmed. "The girl in the background is Kate."
Almost as one, they turned to face Neal again. "I told you to remember the music box," he pointed out.
Finally, Peter connected the dots. "You didn't actually take it, but you let everyone assume you did," he recalled.
Neal shrugged self-deprecatingly. "Don't get me wrong; I did plan on stealing the real one for Kate." And here came the lie. The one thing he couldn't misdirect away. "When someone got there before me, I thought, maybe I could still make it work. I couldn't just admit that someone beat me to it. It was her favorite painting — nothing else would do."
And that last part might be a lie too, for all Neal knew. St George was Kate Moreau's favorite painting, but was it Katelyn Morris's?
Shaking his head to snap out of such thoughts, Neal continued with the misleading but technically true part of the story. "The painting was supposed to be like a proposal, once I found her. I thought, maybe if she came for it, she'd realize how much I cared for her…"
"So that's how you were able to pass my lie detector," Sara said with a light scoff.
"I told you I didn't have your Raphael," he pointed out. Which was true: he had told her that.
"You also told me you didn't take the package," she shot right back.
"And I didn't! Mozzie did!"
"Children," Peter said warningly.
They both snapped to look at Peter, though a moment later Sara found Neal's hand again and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"So, Kramer decoded your love letters to Kate," Jones summed up, "and thought he'd found the real Raphael. Then he came in here to what, shove it in your face before your hearing?"
Peter cleared his throat. "I spoke with Hughes about that. According to Kramer's boss, Alan Mitchim, Kramer is attempting to derail Neal's commutation, going so far as to get his sentence extended, and then have him transferred to DC."
"He wants Neal for himself," Diana concluded.
"Unfortunately, I'm apparently quite the reference library on art crimes," Neal snarked. The hard part was over — he'd gotten through the story and the lie — now he just had to worry about his commutation, and what Bryce would say. More importantly, what Peter and the others would say about Bryce. Sara knew about his existence, but the others would be blindsided. There was a small chance that today he would gain his freedom, but lose his best friend.
"Well from the sound of it, Kramer's library card has expired," Peter teased back. "I think we can convince Hughes to keep him and his goons locked up until the hearing is over."
"Will they be giving the verdict today?" Sara asked.
"Not sure," Neal admitted. "There are three people left to speak, and then I think it depends on them. If they want to hear from more people, or if they need more time to think about it, then we might not hear until tomorrow or later. Then they'll give their recommendation to the Governor…"
"We're supposed to find out at the end of the day today," Peter pointed out. "And I thought only you and I were left to speak?"
Neal sighed, and Sara squeezed his hand reassuringly — she knew he was talking about Bryce. "I didn't mean to say that," Neal admitted. "This whole thing has really thrown me for a loop." He glanced at his phone, but there were no new messages from Bryce. Neal just hoped he was able to take care of Ellen and then get back in time.
"You're pulling out a ringer, Caffrey?" Diana teased. She and Jones, like Sara, had gone yesterday. Hughes, Bobby the prison guard, Neal's Marshal handler, and Bryce as Anderson had also been yesterday, while June and some of the people Neal had helped with the FBI were this morning.
"Kind of. I wasn't positive he'd be able to do it, so he's scheduled for last. And now he's cleaning up after Kramer…" Neal waved his phone slightly.
"He's with your… 'contact', right now?" Peter guessed. "That's who texted you about what had happened to her?"
Neal nodded. "If she needs him to stay, he might not make it back for the hearing. Or worse, this might make her want to testify. It's too dangerous!" Let them assume that he meant from his enemies, and not from their father.
"That's her choice to make," Sara pointed out gently.
"Alright, how about we all get lunch together," Peter said briskly. "Diana, Jones, you're welcome to take the afternoon off, if you'd like to see Neal's mysterious ringer before the party tonight — He is coming to the party, isn't he?"
"Looking forward to it!" Neal confirmed. And Neal and Sara were looking forward to seeing Chuck confront him there, too. Even if the commutation failed, he'd have that to look forward to.
Peter clapped his hands together. "Well then, that's the plan. And after myself and Neal speak, we'll deal with whatever happens. If he shows, or doesn't, or if she shows, or doesn't— we'll handle it, alright?"
Neal smiled brightly. Trust Peter to make it sound so simple. "Alright."
oOo
Neal was surprised — though perhaps he shouldn't be — when Peter told the board about Neal's early start with him, and the way his deal had exposed several flaws in the FBI's CI processes. The short summary he gave even shocked Neal. He had gone over all of these things with his therapist over the course of many months, but hearing them all laid out — he'd probably been in more danger as a CI than as a conman. He knew that these were the things that Bryce — as Anderson — had chewed out Peter for, but Neal hadn't realized that Peter had actually changed policy on his behalf.
Even more shocking, those changes had already affected other CIs. Peter had an affidavit from Ruiz regarding a CI who had admitted that he was considering going back to dealing drugs before the cost of living increase was implemented, as he didn't have enough money to buy groceries outside of prison. There was one from cybercrimes too, where a backup tracker watch had saved a CI when a glass of water was spilled on his first wire. That policy was thanks to the sting with Avery, when Neal and Peter had been locked in the airtight vault with only one breathing device.
Peter also spoke to their working relationship, and altogether thoroughly embarrassed Neal with his sappiness. Diana noticed and poked him in the side with a smirk, and from then on Neal did his best to hold his head up high.
To his slight dismay, Peter also talked about the Raphael and the music box, pointing out that, though Neal had undoubtedly committed crimes, he also had a tendency to take credit for things he had not done, meaning that he was less of a threat than he appeared. It was true about the music box, but Neal didn't like that Peter used the Raphael as an example, because in that instance it was a lie.
When Peter was finished, it was Neal's turn, and he quickly ran through their questions, displaying how he was reformed. Finally, he concluded that he had ties to New York and that, baring a short vacation or two, he didn't want to leave the city or his family behind.
Neal's testimony was shorter than Peter's, actually, which also slightly surprised him.
Finally, they were finished with him, and began shuffling papers. Neal glanced at his phone, and saw a text pop up from Bryce almost immediately — he'd forgotten that Bryce was still listening through his watch. I'm here.
"We now call our final witness, Bryce Caffrey," the head of the committee said.
Neal turned just in time to catch the shock on the faces of Peter, Jones, and Diana. Sara was smirking, also in on the surprise. Neal was fairly confident that she'd be just as shocked as they were in a moment.
The doors banged open — clearly Bryce was feeling more dramatic than usual — and he strode in. He was wearing an identical outfit to Neal — stolen from his closet — and was carrying a small, handled folio. Neal glanced back at his friends — yup, there went Sara too. Peter's jaw had actually dropped, and Diana was blinking rapidly. Jones looked like he might actually be in pain.
Smirking, Neal got up from the chair where he had testified and moved back to his seat between Sara and Peter. Bryce took his place with a pat on the shoulder, and gave a matching smirk to the audience. Then, turning back to the committee, he clearly said, "Bryce Caffrey, ma'am, as requested."
His words broke the spell, because Sara and Peter both elbowed Neal at the same time. "You never said you were twins!" Sara whispered, almost simultaneously with Peter's "you have a twin?"
"How did we not know this?" Diana shot over Sara's shoulder.
"Order!" The head of the committee banged her gavel on the table.
"Apologies, ma'am," Bryce said evenly. "Neal kept my identity a secret from his friends, for reasons that I'm about to explain. This is as shocking to them as it is to you."
She frowned at him and then Neal for a moment before nodding. "Then continue. For the record, what is your name?"
"Bryce James Caffrey," he said clearly.
"And your relation to Neal Caffrey?"
"He's my twin brother. He's the older one," Bryce added cheerfully.
"And how long have you— nevermind."
"I've known him all my life," Bryce said smugly, clearly realizing that she had been reading the standard list of questions without thinking about them first.
"What is your occupation?" she asked quickly, seeming content to ignore his joke.
"Oh," Bryce pulled out his badge and flashed it at the panel. "I'm a CIA agent."
This had another round of looks aimed at Neal, who held up his hands defensively. "Not my secret to tell," he murmured.
"Do I need to evict you?" the head asked.
"No ma'am, we'll be good," Sara was the first to recover. She did, however, grab Neal's hand in a squeeze just slightly too tight to be gentle. If she kept that up, he wouldn't be able to paint for a week.
"You're a CIA agent?" the older panel member on the right questioned Bryce.
"Yes sir, since I was twenty. The CIA knew about Neal, and vice versa. They wanted to recruit him too, but he's a pacifist: he hates guns. He was allowed to retain the knowledge of my involvement after swearing to keep it a secret, which he has. That is the reason that none of his friends knew about me, or my job."
Sara tentatively raised her hand, and after a brief pause the head panelist nodded at her. "Miss Ellis?"
"I've known about Bryce for almost a year, now, and I had no idea that he was in the CIA. I didn't even know that they were twins. Neal has been keeping that a secret, just like Bryce said."
"Thank you."
"Look forward to finally talking to you," Bryce whispered at her before turning back to the panel. "Because of my involvement with the CIA, I started to make enemies. Neal and I decided together to keep our existences separate for his own safety. My surname was changed in my official file, and any mention of me having a brother was erased from my records. Neal only shared the fact that he even had a brother with two? Yes, two people, before Miss Ellis here. One person also found out by accident, and I had one friend who knew about Neal before I joined the Agency, and they both also agreed to keep it a secret. In the last ten years, only five people have learned even part of our relationship."
"You took these threats quite seriously," one of the panel members commented.
"At first it was out of an overabundance of caution," Bryce admitted. "But after the first time I was shot and left for dead, we decided to be extra-zealous about it." That got Neal an extra strong squeeze from Sara, while Peter gently placed his hand on his knee. "Eventually Neal gained a few enemies of his own — Agent Burke testified about that, I believe — and it became important to backstop ourselves from his side as well. Neal Caffrey also became an only child."
"And yet you have revealed yourself now?" the panel head questioned.
"There was a major operation about six months back that took out most of the people who wanted me dead," Bryce explained. "I've been working a desk job since then, with only minor tasks here and there. I'm afraid I can't give you more details than that. Regardless, and with Neal's biggest enemies — Adler and Keller — arrested, it became safer for us to come out. Hence, him being able to tell Sara. And, I wanted to be here for him, even if it meant losing my job. Thankfully, my bosses understood, and declassified my existence."
"So when Neal testified that he had family in New York…"
Neal stood. "I meant Bryce, yes ma'am, but also my team here, who I consider my family as well, if not by blood." And Ellen, though for how much longer after today… Neal hadn't had a chance to check in on her himself yet. His declaration earned him more gentle squeezes from Sara and Peter, and a quiet "aww" from Diana as he sat back down. Jones just smiled when Neal's gaze shot to him.
"If I may," Bryce spoke up, "My boss also gave me permission to reveal some newly declassified information that pertains to Neal's case."
"By all means," the head waved him to it. She wasn't following the same question and answer procedure as she had with the others, and Neal suspected that the revelation of Bryce had shocked them out of their rhythm.
Bryce unzipped the folio and pulled out a file that was clearly marked as CIA, and handed it to the bailiff to pass up. "Some parts are redacted, obviously, but this is the file on a criminal the FBI was pursuing: James Readling"
Peter gasped, and all eyes swiveled to him.
"Agent Burke?" asked the quietest commissioner.
"Reading is a weapons dealer, fence, and art forger, and a damn good one," Peter explained. "For a while there was speculation that he was actually two people, given his speed and proficiency. We know of at least seven works to his name. Two of those we also tied to Neal early in our investigations, but nothing ever panned out. Since he hated guns, we assumed that the connection was a mistake or false trail."
"That's because the CIA kept you from getting closer," Bryce explained. "You got enough information to put him on a watch list — which in some circles is something of a job reference — but not enough to ever find him. And you were right: he was two people."
"You and Neal?" the head questioned.
"Somewhat." Bryce quickly clarified. "I'm not sure if you're aware, but I know the Agents are, that some weapons dealers now also deal in art. Instead of carrying around huge duffle bags of cash on them, they have one portfolio or tube that is portable and discrete. The CIA had a program wherein they bought some of these illegal weapons to keep them out of the hands of some pretty bad people. In exchange, instead of cash, they were traded for art. I was the face of James, the one assessing the weapons and doing the bargaining. Neal was the one who created the replicas we exchanged. And, to clarify, I mean replicas, not forgeries. You are aware of the difference?"
"A replica is sanctioned, legal, and labled," the quiet board member said. Clearly he was their art expert.
"As all of Readling's work is," Bryce agreed, opening the folio. He quickly flipped through, showing first the piece, then the magnified watermark where Neal had hidden the word READ in the painting, and finally the small inscription on the back canvas edge that read 'This is a legal replica, not to be confused for the original artwork.' After a handful of paintings, the committee had clearly had enough.
"Are you saying that all of Neal's forged paintings were actually replicas?" the art expert said.
"Without knowing how many paintings he's forged, I can't say that," Bryce admitted easily. "I can testify that all of his Readling paintings were CIA-sanctioned replicas, which allowed us to get millions of dollars of weapons off the streets. Has Neal committed other crimes? Probably. He was tried and found guilty, after all, and I can't speak to what I didn't personally see him do. However, he has served his time for that, and any crimes he has committed in the past should be judged, not just against the good things he has done for the FBI, but for those in the past that he did for the CIA as well."
"Thank you," the committee head said. "Any further questions?" The other members shook their heads. "Then if all of you will please wait outside while we deliberate?"
oOo
As soon as the group got outside, all but Sara converged on Neal. While he fended off questions about Bryce, Readling, and his CIA work, Sara sidled up to Bryce. "Nice to meet you," she said quietly.
"Agreed," he shook her hand. "Neal talks about you often, and I've seen your picture. Obviously, you know what I look like now, since you've seen Neal," he teased.
"I have, actually," she teased back. "And now that we can finally meet in person, I've got something to say."
"Oh?"
Sara turned and looked him dead in the eye, tone instantly icy. "If you ever get yourself shot and declared dead again without informing Neal that you are alive immediately, I'll make it permanent," she said, jabbing her finger into his chest to emphasize her point.
"Yes ma'am." Then Bryce's shock quickly morphed to admiration and amusement. "Oh I like you. You remind me of one of my… people I used to know."
Sara realized that he was probably referring to his friends in Burbank, and was reminded that she still had the revelation with Chuck to look forward to. She had a feeling that was going to more than make up for the shock she had gotten when Bryce walked in. Smirking, she turned side by side with Bryce to watch the current show.
oOo
To Bryce's amusement, Neal was standing with his hands physically over his head, as though he could ward off his friends that way. He couldn't help but laugh.
The others froze, and Neal took the opportunity to point at him accusingly. "He's the CIA spook! Yell at him, not me!" he protested.
Bryce was about to laugh again when, to his horror, all three obeyed, turning towards him like trained attack dogs. "So, what kind of guns did you handle as Readling?" Diana was the first to ask.
"So, CIA?" Jones said, holding out his hand to shake. "Was it as fun as they make it sound?"
"So, CIA?" Peter echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Doesn't that kind of make you a sanctioned conman?"
Sara stifled a laugh and slipped away from his side and back to Neal, who wrapped an arm around her waist.
Bryce held up his own hands in defeat, then shook with Jones on the way back down. "Diana, I promise we can talk guns at the party tonight. Jones, parts of it were that cool, though other parts were terrifying. And some parts were even better. And yes, Peter, Neal has made that joke more times than I can count, since well before either of us had ever heard of you."
Sara snorted. "Oh, you're going to fit in perfectly," she crowed. Neal just offered him a relieved smile.
"So, how did you know about our connections between Neal and Readling?" Peter asked.
"It was in the information that the judge ordered you to turn over during the Le Joyau fiasco," Bryce shrugged. "You were required to hand over every document that the FBI had on Neal, and that included the links to Readling."
Peter looked disappointed. "Oh."
"You thought the CIA had infiltrated you?" Bryce teased.
"It crossed my mind," Peter admitted.
"I mean, I'm not going to deny that infiltrating other agencies is something of a habit for the CIA…" Bryce allowed.
"Did you ever—"
Bryce rolled his eyes. "No, I never pretended to be Neal to infiltrate White Collar: sorry to disappoint you." Which was true: he'd infiltrated as Anderson. "Nor have I worn his anklet or messed with its data so that he could do illicit things. I've never physically been inside your offices, either." Bryce hadn't needed to, with his own CIA mole on the inside. "But Neal's talked about you all so much that I feel as though I already know you."
"Ah, I see." Was it his imagination, or was Peter disappointed?
He decided to stir the pot a little more. "And of course, there are the recordings."
"Recordings?" Peter's head snapped around to stare at Neal.
Neal looked like he was about to bolt, so Bryce laughed to draw Peter's gaze back to himself. "We were tipped off that Kramer was going to try to screw up the commutation hearing. We were afraid that would be more along the lines of kidnapping him off the street, though, or "borrowing" him out of the office. Possibly messing with his tracking data to frame him, like Fowler did."
He could see the understanding on all of their faces, no doubt helped along by the fact that Kramer had tried exactly that this morning. Bryce grabbed his phone and pulled up the live feed for the tie clip before turning the screen to face them. "Say hi!" he prompted.
The shot was slightly angled into Sara's shoulder, but as they watched, Neal straightened out. For a few moments, the twins and Sara watched in amusement as the three agents kept looking back and forth between the camera and the feed. Then Bryce swiped over to the second one. "The first was the tie clip, the second is that pen in his pocket, in case he needed to take it off and drop it in a car or on someone else," he explained. "And his watch…" he quickly pulled up that app, "is the same kind you usually use, tracker plus audio."
"So you could prove that his movements didn't match any hacked data, smart!" Jones deduced.
Bryce nodded, then glanced at Peter, who looked upset. "Peter — I can call you Peter? Neal does, so I barely even think of you as 'Agent Burke' anymore—" Peter nodded mutely, so Bryce continued, "Peter, remember that Neal has been a CIA confidential informant for years. You're acting like he's a criminal who is spying on your office. What you're looking at is a CIA sting using a known CI."
"This is CIA sanctioned?" Diana asked as Peter clearly stopped to consider that.
"It can be," Bryce shrugged. "I filled out all the paperwork. But I didn't intend to turn it in unless Kramer made a move and forced us to defend ourselves. I mean, I know what he did this morning, but that was resolved by your boss. And hearing him announce his plans to the whole floor was what let me get to Neal's 'Contact' just as Kramer's goons were leaving."
"This" and he gestured between the phone and Neal's cam "isn't about the CIA spying on White Collar; this is about me protecting Neal from what appears to be a rogue FBI agent. And since rogue government agents are within the CIA's wheelhouse…"
Peter exhaled heavily, but his tone was rueful, rather than upset. "You're misappropriating government funds for your own resources. I should have known: you're a Caffrey."
"Actually we're misappropriating Mozzie's Russian surplus," Neal piped up helpfully. He had put his arm back around Sara once the others were done looking for the cameras.
Thankfully, when Peter threw his hands up in exasperation, Bryce could see that there was no remaining anger in the motion. Neal saw it too, given the way he relaxed slightly. "That reminds me…" Bryce swiped into another app on his phone and pushed the talk button. "Moz?"
"I see you've finally had the big reveal," Mozzie's voice came through clearly. "Maybe now you'll listen to me when I tell you that government conspiracies exist, Suit!"
"Being born twins isn't a government conspiracy, Moz," Neal called out.
"Ha!" Mozzie scoffed. "That's what they want you to think!"
"Is he watching us right now?" Peter asked, gesturing at Neal's tie.
"Someone had to monitor the feeds while I was on my way here," Bryce agreed.
To his surprise, Peter just turned and stared right at Neal. "Mozzie, El said to go ahead with the extra bottle, since apparently we're having more people than she originally expected," he said clearly.
"Already anticipated, Suit," Mozzie replied smugly.
"Thanks for passing on my message, hon," El's voice suddenly blossomed beside his.
"El?" Peter stared blankly at Neal's tie. "Why is El there?"
Neal shrugged easily, "it's a bribe."
"You're bribing my wife?"
"Neal!" El scolded over the phone. "You make it sound so bad!"
"You and Mozzie are… bribing my wife?" Peter repeated.
"I had nothing to do with this, Suit!" Mozzie protested. "Blame the evil government clone!"
When the three agents looked at the phone blankly, Bryce raised a hand meekly. "That usually means me."
"Oh hon, I've got to take the canapes out of the oven now, but you did very well today!" El interrupted. "Neal, sweetie, that was as good as you promised, and I think it went really well in there. I'll see you in a little bit."
Bryce quickly hung up before Mozzie could interject again, then scrolled through his open apps. Peter had taken one menacing step towards Neal by the time he found it.
"Why are you two bribing El?" Peter demanded.
Neal held up his hands placatingly. "Peter, you told her that she shouldn't be at the hearing, because we didn't want to flood the room with people. When she found out about the cameras, we offered to let her watch instead. Mozzie's been over at your house all day; he set up his monitoring stuff there. They've been watching while they prepared for the party."
"And how did she know about the cameras?" Peter demanded.
"That would be this," Bryce said, drawing the attention back to himself. He held up his phone again, playing the video. "It's better on a bigger screen, but I couldn't bring my laptop into the hearing," he explained.
The video was clearly taken from Neal's bodycam, as it was currently showing his hands doodling on a piece of paper on his dining table at June's.
"Caffrey!" Bryce said sharply.
The cam jerked up, now catching half of the table and the opposite chair. "Yes?" Neal asked innocently.
"No good," Bryce said. "You're still only raising your head, not your whole chest. You need to lean back more."
Neal clearly did that, as the camera swung up to reveal Bryce lounging on Neal's couch, laptop open. "If anyone does approach you, you've got to actually capture him cleanly on the cameras."
"I know," Neal grumbled, the camera refocusing on the table. "I still think you should just hack into the security cams in the office."
"That won't do us any good if he approaches you at lunch or something," Bryce pointed out. "We'll need a shot of him, not your food. Besides," he muttered, "those cameras are low def crap."
"Well let's hear it for Russian surplus, then," Neal joked, even as he smoothly jerked up, catching less of the table and most of the door this time.
"Better," Bryce told him. "Again."
Neal had just looked down when the door opened. "Neal, sweetie, I had a question for tomorrow night—" The camera jerked up perfectly in time to catch El's flabbergasted expression. "Neal?"
"Damn," Neal muttered quietly.
"On the plus side, you did it right that time," Bryce said with a smirk.
"Uh, Elizabeth, meet my twin brother, Bryce," Neal gallantly introduced them.
"Oh good, for a minute I thought this was one of Mozzie's government clones," El said relatively calmly. Both twins in the video laughed.
The clip ended, and Peter automatically swung back to glare at Neal. "I told you earlier, I wasn't sure if Bryce was going to be able to make it," Neal explained. "I wasn't sure if I wouldn't be kidnapped again or something, either! I made El promise not to tell you until the party, and she agreed only if she could watch your faces when you found out." He gestured at his tie. "Hence…"
"You—" Peter suddenly looked down at the tie. "You knew! You knew Mozzie was coming over today, and this morning you still told me to pass on a message if I saw him! You… my own wife conned me," he muttered the last part weakly.
This time everyone chuckled at his expression. A moment later his phone beeped and he pulled it out. "Sorry Hon." he read, then looked back at Neal's tie and waggled his finger. "You're not sorry. I know you! You're laughing right now!"
Neal and Bryce both burst out laughing at that, while Sara's grin widened.
Just then, the door opened. "Mister Caffrey?" the bailiff called.
The group quickly calmed themselves and filed back in. As Neal took the central chair again, Bryce stole his spot with the others. After a moment's thought, Bryce grabbed Sara's hand and squeezed it reassuringly. She'd had almost as stressful a day as Neal, being told about the painting this morning and fearing that Neal had actually stolen it, combined with her own conflicting feelings when it wasn't true.
Once the commutation was over, he'd hack into her Sterling Bosch notes and see if there were any random things she had picked up about the Raphael that didn't tie to Neal. Any one off reference or misdirection he could use to create a different criminal with a different paper trail and lead her to the painting in the future. She deserved her finder's fee, all things considered, for what she put up with around Neal.
"Mister Caffrey," the head of the committee said, drawing everyone's attention. "This board has come to a decision, and have conveyed our judgement to the Governor. Thus, with his approval, it is the unanimous decision of this committee that you be released from your remaining sentence with time served."
Thankfully, she paused for their reactions. Sara even quietly squealed and hugged Bryce. The others were letting out breaths of relief, and Bryce knew he was grinning almost as widely as Neal.
"Agent Burke may remove your anklet, Mister Caffrey," she continued a moment later. "As of this moment you are a free man. We trust that you will continue to follow the good influences in your life, and use your very impressive skills in legal ways, whether that is by working for the government with Agent Burke or your brother, or in the commercial sector like your girlfriend." She nodded at each of them in turn, ending with Sara.
"On a personal note," said the one that Bryce had identified as their art expert — the one who had been most eager to see the folio of Neal's Readling work, "here's my card." He held it up and Neal quickly got up to accept it before going back to his seat. "If you want to join our replica team we'd be more than glad to have you."
"My boss wants him for the same reason," Sara whispered to Bryce. Bryce had noticed on the video feed that she had discretely snapped a photo of the Raphael earlier, likely to explain to her boss how the tip had panned out. For the short time frame, it was one of Neal's better works. If they'd had an extra week, it could have been flawless.
"Thank you, Sir," Neal said politely. "And you, ma'am. I know how rare it is for an ex-con to leave his sentence with four brilliant job offers. I'll do my best not to disappoint any of you." Bryce thought that might have been laying it on a bit thick, but then he reconsidered when he saw Neal glance his way. Neal wasn't making that promise to the board, he was making it to Peter and Sara. Maybe even El and Jones and Diana. Mozzie and Bryce had accepted him either way, but the others… his promise was for the others.
oOo
El and Mozzie eagerly greeted the smaller group when they arrived at the Burke residence just before seven. Diana was picking up Christie, but both they and Jones would be back soon, so for now it was just the Burkes, Sara, Mozzie, and Bryce with Neal.
"Bryce!" El gave him a friendly hug, just as she would Neal. "So good to see you again!" she added as though they were old friends. Judging by the small smirk she sent at Peter, that was entirely on purpose.
Neal got a giant hug next. "Well, let me see them!" Neal obligingly took out the sheaf of papers from his pocket that detailed his commutation and why he was off his anklet. "Sweetie you should frame these," she declared.
"Jones is taking a copy to the office as we speak," Peter told her, wrapping his arms around her from behind and resting his chin on her shoulder. "As well as the anklet," which Peter had removed as soon as they were back in the lobby. He had also been given instructions to report to Hughes, and a request that Kramer be kept overnight before being told what happened. None of them wanted him to crash the party.
"And you," Peter pointed at Neal, "Take all that off before everyone arrives." Neal slipped upstairs, where Mozzie had stashed his monitoring equipment, and took off the tie clip and pen. Thinking about it, he kept the watch on, but pressed the button on the side to turn it off. No harm in being extra cautious, just until Kramer was dealt with, right?
Bryce had followed him, and quickly lost his tie, vest, and suit jacket. Then he undid the top two buttons of his shirt: he hated being so confined, usually. Neal just snorted and grabbed the regular tie clip from his discard pile, slipping it on and making sure his outfit was completely perfect again.
As Bryce preceded him down the stairs, Neal thought for a second and then ducked back for the clip cam. He'd keep it in his pocket, or slip it to Sara, but he wanted back up, in case he missed Bryce's reunion with Chuck. Neal had slipped a note to El via Mozzie a few days ago, warning her that there was going to be a little surprise tonight, and that there would be two more people for the party. He'd also hinted that she'd get a kick out of the whole thing. With the revelation of Bryce, she knew one of his guests, but had to realize that the other was still to come.
Come to think of it… Neal held up the cam to his face and murmured. "I assume you're hacking this too, since I didn't see you at the hearing. I'd suggest being fashionably late: get the biggest audience possible." If Chuck had taken his advice, then he'd likely get the message. If not, well Bryce was unlikely to review this footage, or know what it meant if he did.
Then Neal quickly bounded back down the stairs to the party. Diana and Christie had arrived, and Neal was a little put out that he had missed that reveal, though Diana had probably warned her in the car. "Wait, Neal, what?" Christie gaped as soon as he entered the living room. Her gaze flicked to the more casual Bryce and then back to Neal.
Neal beamed at Diana. "Aw, you didn't warn her! You saved the best part for me!" he teased. "Christie, meet my twin brother, Bryce!"
While Christie was still processing that, June elegantly strode through the door and immediately hugged Neal. "I'm so proud of you," she whispered, holding him tightly. Then, shocking everyone but Mozzie and the twins, she also gave Bryce a fond hug. "Bryce, it looks like all your worrying was for naught," she said.
"There was a minor incident this morning, but we made it through alright," Bryce confirmed.
"She knew?" Peter was the first to speak up.
This was a story that Neal was more than happy to share. "So, two months after I moved in with June, Bryce here got shot in the arm on a mission," he cheerfully explained. "June walked in on us as Mozzie was trying to clean his wound, told me to stop fretting so much, and called a doctor to fix it properly."
"They only winged me," Bryce protested. "It wasn't that big of a deal."
"You were bleeding everywhere, darling," June corrected him. "And Neal was about to pace a hole in my floor with worry. I'm glad you're behind a desk now, for his sake."
"So when you testified that one person had found out by accident…" Diana filled in the blanks.
"So Mozzie, June… I'm guessing Kate was the other one you told?" Peter deduced.
Neal nodded, not really wanting to get into a discussion about Kate right now. He hadn't actually told her about Bryce, but she'd known about him — what with her being NSA and all — so they'd agreed to pretend that Neal had done it. The truth was, even though Neal had loved Kate, he'd never trusted her with Bryce's life. Fortunately, at that moment, Jones and Hughes entered and distracted everyone.
"Aww, did I miss it?" Jones pouted.
Hughes's eyes widened slightly, before he nodded at Neal. "Caffrey."
"Sir," Neal returned the nod politely.
"Here's a job description and application," he said, pulling a stack of papers out of his pocket. "I hope I'll be seeing you in the office again soon."
"Yes Sir," Neal replied quickly, tucking the papers into his pocket, next to the commutation ones.
As Hughes strode into the kitchen in search of El, Neal glared at Jones. "Hey, I'm not the one who warned him," Jones held up his hands defensively. "But you should also get ready, cause the rest of the office is right behind us."
Neal glanced at Bryce, who immediately smirked back. Moving as smoothly as though they had practiced it, Neal retreated further towards the kitchen, shifting around Diana so that she partially blocked him from sight, as Bryce walked towards the door and pulled it open.
"Welcome!" he called out cheerfully, as everyone in the room subtly angled to get the best view of the impending mayhem. In threes and fours — carpool groups, Neal quickly realized — the rest of the office trickled in, offered Bryce congratulations at the door, and then walked into the living room, only to be greeted by Neal's biggest smile and an identical, "Welcome!"
Sara later confessed that she hadn't laughed so hard in years.
Fortunately, the few people in the office that Neal wasn't on the best terms with didn't bother to show up, and everyone who did come accepted the twin revelation with good grace. Or, at least, the facsimile of it. Greg Samson — Bryce's CIA mole — was even doing a very credible job of acting like he'd never heard of Bryce before and was slightly suspicious of him.
Bryce's CIA shenanigans proved to be the biggest draw, and Neal was able to relax slightly and watch as the others mobbed him. Some — like Jones and Hawthorn — wanted to know about the glamorous life of being a spy. Some — like Diana, Shellis, and Green — wanted to talk shop, and hear all about the guns that he'd used or confiscated as Readling. And some — like Blake and Lucy the file clerk — wanted to hear all about what Neal was like as a child. Neal did his best to tune out that conversation, and not think about what kind of embarrassing stories Bryce was sharing.
Neal was just considering dragging Bryce out of the huddle when Sara shoved her phone in his face. He didn't recognize the phone number, but the text's message clarified it instantly. I'm coming in in two minutes. -C
"You grab June: I'll get the others." Exchanging a smirk with Sara, he glanced around for El and found her and Peter standing near the back door. Neal moved as quickly towards them as possible while still appearing casual. "Have you seen Moz?"
"He's avoiding all the 'Suits'" El said fondly, jerking her head towards the back door.
Neal stuck his head out. "Moz, you're going to want to see this," he warned. Then, looking back at the Burkes he hinted, "El, the second half of the entertainment has arrived." As El perked up and Peter looked confused, Neal took his tie clip back out of his pocket and slid it onto his tie, directly beneath the normal one. "Got to get a good seat," he said quickly, before making his way back over to Sara and June, who had picked out a spot with a perfect view of both Bryce and the front door.
The doorbell rang just as he reached Sara and draped his arm over her shoulder, and Neal turned in time to catch Green opening the door. It was Chuck, though he had grown up a bit since Neal had last seen him. "Hey! Glad you could make it!" Neal called to him. Chuck met his eye and smiled, though Neal could see he was faking it. Neal wasn't positive about the mix of emotions flicking over Chuck's face, but given his own past experience and Sara's report, he assumed that nervousness and anger were probably the most prominent.
Neal cocked his head in Bryce's direction just as they heard him laugh at some joke that cracked up the small circle around him. Chuck nodded and Neal watched him slip into his "game face" — something the old Chuck hadn't had. Chuck was a pathetic, floppy, adorable dork, from what Neal remembered, but he supposed that he shouldn't be surprised that that could change in a decade.
"I take it this is Bryce's missing paramour?" June asked quietly.
"You are a very perceptive woman," he smirked. Neal felt a presence on his other side, but didn't turn to see if it was Mozzie or El. His eyes never left Chuck as he wove through the crowd, mumbling apologies and shifting to stay in Bryce's blind spot.
Once he reached Bryce, Chuck took a deep breath, and something in his face must have clued them in, because Neal saw Diana and the others shift away from Bryce's side, giving them room.
"Huh?" Bryce started to turn, and before he fully could, Chuck grabbed his head and planted a huge kiss on him. Prepared for it, Neal led the wolf whistles, with Sara joining a beat behind him. The rest of the room quickly got in on the action, but Neal kept his eyes locked on Bryce. The moment his twin relaxed, reaching out to wrap his arms around Chuck, Chuck broke the kiss. Then, leaning back, he belted Bryce right across the jaw with a vicious right hook.
"Oh!" Neal couldn't help it: he could practically feel that. Diana took half a step forward, but Neal called out, "Don't worry, he deserved that, and more." The agents in the room clearly took that information to heart, as Neal saw the subtle shift of them dropping out of defensive positions. "Hey Chuck, welcome to the family, finally," Neal offered. Chuck gave him a half hearted smile, but didn't look away from Bryce.
Bryce, for his part, slowly stood upright again, then swiped his thumb across his lip, catching a bit of blood on it. "I guess we need to talk," he said quietly.
"Yeah, I would say we do," Chuck agreed.
"You're welcome to go upstairs," El offered immediately from beside Neal.
"Thanks," Bryce agreed, then started walking toward the stairs. When he drew abreast of Neal and Sara, he shot them a glare. "I'll kill you later," he said mildly.
"Oh, I think you'll be too busy for that," Neal teased back as Chuck pushed past Bryce to climb the stairs.
As soon as they were out of sight, Neal found that every eye was on him. He suppressed a sigh: he had asked for the witnesses, after all, though that was back when he assumed his commutation would fail. Thankfully, El pushed a glass of wine into his hand, and Neal took a bracing sip. "One of the things they tell you about joining the CIA is that sometimes you'll be in life threatening situations, and sometimes you need to kill off an alias if the heat is on. One of the things they don't tell you is that sometimes it suits their purposes to kill off, not just your alias, but your real name. Bryce has been "killed" in the line of duty twice, that I know of—"
"I told you the government can bring people back from the dead!" Mozzie's voice was muffled, but still fairly audible among the gasps from Neal's audience.
"Yeah, Moz, it's called CPR. The only difference between the CIA and a normal hospital is that the hospital doesn't then hold a funeral and invite all your family to it after they revive you."
"You thought he was dead — twice," Peter connected the dots.
"Oh sweetie," El grabbed his free arm, while Sara squeezed the hand draped over her shoulders.
"The first time was when I was in prison," Neal admitted. "I couldn't actually attend the funeral, but Chuck did," he glanced at the stairs. "The second time was a few weeks after Kate — I refused to believe it, after what they did before. But Chuck… Chuck was there when it happened. Bryce died in his arms."
Neal had gotten that information out of Bryce when he was incredibly drunk and loopy on pain meds which he should never have combined. His vaunted "resistance" the CIA had developed hadn't been able to combat both substances together, apparently. Or maybe something genetic about the twins made them both more susceptible to pain meds, Neal considered, given his own history. Regardless, if Bryce hadn't wanted this shared, he should have listened to Neal and talked to Chuck sooner.
"Holy shit," someone — Neal thought it was Blake — whispered.
"Bryce spent the last… six— eighteen?" Neal did the quick math, "Yeah, about eighteen months, thinking that Chuck knew he was still alive but just didn't want to see him ever again, while Chuck didn't know the truth. I got sick of his moping and enlisted Sara to help me reunite them."
"So you picked tonight, Caffrey?" Diana snarked.
Was combining his party and their reunion the best idea he'd ever had? Maybe not. But it was nowhere near the worst, either. "Hey, if my commutation failed, I had to have something to brighten up my evening," Neal shrugged. And possibly distract Bryce from killing Kramer, if he succeeded in railroading Neal.
That broke the tension nicely, and people started to turn towards their neighbors to continue previous discussions, or gossip about what had just happened. Once most of the eyes were off of him, Neal took another deep sip of his wine as he turned towards El and Peter. He noticed that Jones and Diana had drifted closer as Mozzie half emerged from the coat closet where he had been hiding. Peter shot him a look, but Mozzie was unrepentant. Neal quickly pulled off the tie clip cam and slipped it back into his pocket.
"They really let you think he was dead?" El said, sorrow in her eyes.
"He was never supposed to tell me the truth," Neal explained. "Once the CIA kills you they expect you to stay dead."
"Well, Caffreys aren't exactly known for following the rules," Jones teased.
"So that whole time you were dealing with Kate's death, you were also dealing with Bryce's?" Diana asked, referencing when he had been diagnosed with PTSD after the Fowler incident. Christie had drifted to her side as well, and they embraced. Neal knew that, like El, Christie must be wondering what it felt like to get that call, to be told that their loved one was dead. June just gave him a sympathetic, knowing look, and he nodded at her.
"Yeah, that was part of my problem. June knew that Bryce's job was dangerous — I mean, she'd seen him shot — but nothing more than that. Mozzie was the only person I could tell the whole truth to. As far as the world was concerned, Bryce had died two years previously, and neither of us even had a brother. Once you got me that therapist — I think she had to sign piles of non-disclosure agreements —" There was no way that Neal was going to blow her cover with the CIA, and he was sure that they'd made her sign some kind of forms anyway, so it wasn't a lie.
"— but I was finally allowed to tell someone besides Moz what had happened." He continued with a light smirk. "She had the added benefit of not trying to convince me that Bryce came back a brainwashed killing machine, or actually had died and been replaced by an evil government clone." Though Bryce had appreciated what he called the 'Winter Soldier' reference, when Neal told him the story.
"That was one time!" Mozzie protested. "Lest you forget, I'm also the one who got you the confirmation that he was alive the second time."
"Yeah, you did, Moz, thanks," Neal acknowledged.
"Well, no wonder you took a shot at Fowler, " Jones said. "You couldn't get your hands on the CIA, so…"
"He was the only one within my grasp," Neal agreed. "Yeah, that's what my therapist figured out. But she helped fix that, and now I'm a functioning, productive member of society again." Neal lifted his left pant leg slightly and added, "And a free one!"
And thankfully, his family let him change the subject.
oOo
Many hours later, in Chuck's hotel room, as Bryce absently tangled his fingers in Chuck's hair, feeling the comfortable weight of Chuck's sleeping head on his chest, he thought back to Neal's words. Yeah, he was too busy to kill Neal tonight. And given the hints Neal had dropped about putting a 'do not disturb' sign on his own door, Neal was too busy as well.
Of course, the fact that Chuck was currently wrapped around him, having forgiven him, meant that Bryce wasn't exactly in the mood to kill Neal anymore either. He'd tried being angry, but he was just too damn happy and grateful for it to stick.
His phone lit up on the nightstand and Bryce reached out to grab it. It was a text from Neal, and Bryce realized he might not be the only one unable to sleep.
Still want to kill me? it read.
"No killing Neal," Chuck mumbled. Bryce looked down and saw that Chuck had woken up, eyes squinting against the screen's glare.
Bryce sighed. "I wasn't going to," he admitted.
"Good," Chuck mumbled and snuggled in. "Gonna be my brother-in-law."
That thought thrilled Bryce so much that it took him a full minute before he could send Neal a reply.
It would be a waste after all the effort I put into your commutation hearing.
Clearly Neal wasn't fooled, as he quickly replied. We'll see you both for brunch today. June's cook makes excellent pancakes and a divine Italian roast.