Title: Soon, but not yet
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: G
Length: ~860 words
Notes: Peter gen, missing scene from 1.06. Also for wc_rewatch. A million thanks to mergatrude for beta. <3 <3 <3
Summary: Peter writes a memo.


Peter emerged from Hughes’ office with mixed feelings: they had ample evidence against Lao, at least enough to take down his money-laundering operation and punish him for the murder of John Costa. SWAT would move in and arrest him within the hour, and Peter could attend Costa’s memorial service and offer condolences to his widow with a clear conscience.

All the same, the operation hadn’t exactly gone smoothly, given Neal’s double agent act. He’d sat there with that helpful smile on his face, all the while trying to stop them discovering the truth about Meilin. Delaying long enough that they hadn’t been able to recover Costa’s body. In other circumstances, that misdirect could have been the difference between getting an agent out alive or not.

Peter was guiltily grateful Costa’s murder had preceded White Collar’s involvement.

And as for Neal, who refused to accept that his obligation to the Bureau had to take precedence, or how precarious his position was, let alone how much political capital it was costing Peter to keep him out of prison, this eternal obsession with Kate was a vulnerability that anyone with insider information could exploit. Which meant any day now Neal would find out Kate was working with the FBI—if the ring in the photo were anything to go by—and then the fragile trust that had been building between Peter and his CI would collapse like a failed soufflé.

Peter paused on the mezzanine. Neal had just arrived back at his desk. He dropped into his chair and slid a thumbdrive into the USB slot of his computer with an air of casual innocence that set Peter’s alarm bells going. Meilin must have slipped him some intel after all.

But what? How much did she know?

Cruz pushed through the doors from the elevators, and Neal grabbed a file from his in-tray and pretended to be engrossed in it. When the coast was clear again, he pushed the file aside and clicked around on his computer, probably opening the drive directory. For a moment, Peter thought this was it, the moment of truth, and time seemed to slow with the anticipation of disaster. Then Neal pushed his chair a few inches back from his desk, slumping in obvious disappointment, and Peter breathed again.

He went into his office, sat at his desk and brought up a new email window. The cursor blinked steadily.

Attn: Chief of INTERPOL Operations and Command Center, Washington

I am hereby lodging a formal complaint against INTERPOL operative Meilin Won for attempting to bribe and co-opt an FBI criminal informant, Neal Caffrey, in the middle of a highly sensitive investigation into missing federal agent Mark Costa, with the clear aim of obstructing that investigation. Agent Won lied to Caffrey and encouraged him to abuse his role to interfere with the operation. This is unacceptable, and constitutes a real threat to the continued viability of interagency cooperation. I will be apprising the FBI executive as soon as

Peter gritted his teeth. His hands stilled on the keyboard.

As soon as hell froze over. Dammit!

He couldn’t tell the Bureau. He couldn’t even tell Hughes the whole story. The more people who found out Kate was apparently working with someone from the FBI, the sooner Neal would find out, and Peter had no doubt Neal would raze his life to the ground for Kate. Again. To “rescue” her, when she was probably in exactly the same position he was (even if she wasn’t officially registered as a federal CI, as far as Peter had been able to discover).

Then Ruiz and every other department head with a bee in their bonnet about letting criminals out of prison and sharing information with cons would make it their business to ensure Neal ended up back behind bars, signaling the end of both Peter’s partnership with Neal and the not-inconsiderable bump in the White Collar unit’s closure rate.

Dammit.

Peter rubbed his face tiredly. There was only one real thing to do, and that was to continue on as he had been: closing cases with Neal and, off book, enquiring into which FBI department had Kate and to what purpose. He couldn’t strategize beyond that until he had the facts.

A knock on his door startled him out of his reverie. It was Neal. “Mr. Twan just called and invited us to lunch at his restaurant. You in?”

Peter glanced at the half-written memo on his screen and clicked delete, before Neal psychically figured out what he’d been doing. Neal was so close to getting himself on track, tantalizingly close. A couple more weeks, and Peter was sure he could convince him that this—working with the team, outwitting criminals and putting them away—was the right choice, the life he was made for.

And once Peter was sure Neal had made that choice, was steady on the path, Peter would tell him everything he knew about Kate. They’d figure it out together. But not yet. There was too much at stake. Soon, and definitely before Neal found out through other means—but not just yet.

“Yeah,” he told Neal. “I’m in.”


END