A/N: For the purposes of this chapter I'm taking pieces of the fifth season and combining them in a scene set at Christmas.

Chemistry Lab, Derleth Hall, Miskatonic University, Arkham MA. 1975.

The lab was filled with people. They were talking, playing with Satchmo and Bugsy, and reaching for the plate of brownies that Henry had carried in.

Dressed in a loden-green blouse and coordinating tweed skirt, Lavinia held a carpet bag in one hand, and a massive umbrella in the other. The umbrella was probably plain black when unfurled, but it was certainly not boring. The handle had a gnarled, natural shape rather than a smooth curve, and was made of a type of wood Peter didn't recognize. He supposed he should be reminded of Mary Poppins, but instead she brought to mind thoughts of Gandalf. There was an otherworldliness and sense of power to this woman, making you wonder if she should be carrying a wizard's staff. Or maybe the umbrella would transform into a staff if needed?

She pounded it on the floor once, gaining silence as everyone in the room turned toward her. "Those of you from Arkham will stay here," she announced. "June has my instructions."

As Arkham June took the brownies from Henry, he looked at them mournfully but didn't protest.

"The visiting Diana, Jones, and Mozzie will remain here with your June. She will help you prepare."

"Prepare for what?" Diana asked.

Instead of answering, Lavinia called out, "Travis!"

The New York and Arkham versions of Travis must have been lingering in the hall. They entered the lab now, still in the midst of an intense conversation. Peter heard them mention "SETI" and "wormholes" and "fascinating" before their words were frozen by Lavinia's glare.

"The two of you are responsible for dismantling Mozzie's experiment. His methodology and findings must never be published. The crude but effective methods he used have torn our reality. We will strive to heal it, but we cannot risk that others will learn of his experiments and endeavor to repeat them. The wine that he stole from my private collection will be found and returned to me. Not a drop will be left here. Understood?"

NYC and Arkham Travis nodded.

"The rest of our visitors, come with me. It is time for you to see the future." Lavinia strode forward and disappeared in a flash of light. Peter, El, Henry, and Neal looked at each other and then followed.

###

They arrived in Neal's loft in the mansion. It crossed his mind to question if Lavinia had simply sent them all home instead of showing them the future.

"I sense your doubt," Lavinia said. "Patience."

A painting was on an easel beside the table, and Neal leaned in to inspect it. He admired the craftsmanship, but why was this Neal reproducing a master instead of creating something original? Between the demands of his full-time job at the FBI and the PhD program at Columbia, he needed to focus on projects for his classes.

"Is that what I think it is?" Henry asked, pointing under the chair.

Neal felt his heart skip a beat. It was a tracking anklet. He'd worn one briefly last year, and he'd vowed never to repeat the experience.

"What's going on?" Peter asked. "Is this the same world where Neal was in prison?"

"It is called canon," Lavinia said.

The door to the loft opened, and canon Neal strode in. He hung up his jacket and sat down in the chair in front of the easel. He took a deep breath and then reached down for the anklet, snapping it around his leg. Then he added paints onto a palette and mixed the colors he wanted. He applied a few brush strokes to the painting, then leaned back and frowned at it.

"Did he mess up?" asked Peter.

Neal shook his head. Would it sound too vain if he said it was excellent work?

"Nah," Henry said. "I know that look. He wants to paint but he's too distracted by something else to give it the focus he thinks it deserves."

Lavinia pushed Henry, who took a step forward. With a glance back at her he said, "Okay, hint taken." He sat on another of the chairs at the dining table and placed his hand on Neal's arm. "Hey, what's with the anklet, kiddo?"

It was odd hearing him say that. Henry was used to being older than his cousin, but this Neal was in his thirties now, while Henry had turned twenty-nine over the summer.

Canon Neal put down the palette and clasped a hand over Henry's as if to hold him in place. He stared at him a few moments before saying, "Been a long time since I've seen your ghost. Last time, I was in prison."

"He remembers our visit," Neal said in an undertone to Peter and El.

"You're out now," Henry said.

"Yeah. I escaped near the end of my four years to rescue Kate. That didn't end well. Peter Burke found me and arrested me again within a day. They gave me another four years. I convinced Peter to let me finish my sentence consulting for him at the FBI, like a work-release." He glanced down at his anklet. "Now I have this thing and I'm barred from most museums because of my criminal record."

"Nice place you're living in, though," Henry said. "You're renting from June Ellington?"

Canon Neal nodded. "She's been great. I'll miss her."

Peter and Neal both inhaled sharply at that comment.

"Planning on leaving?" Henry asked. "Why?"

"The deal with the FBI was interesting at first. Peter was a friend, almost like a father to me. But after my real dad showed up and spread his chaos, things soured."

"James found you?"

"Yeah. He's like a plague. Ellen was murdered."

"Ellen's dead?" Neal looked shaken.

Canon Neal continued, "A senator became implicated in Dad's old crimes. In the end, James took Peter's gun and shot the senator before making his escape, and Peter was arrested for the murder."

El gasped.

Henry looked at Peter in shock before turning his attention back to the conversation. "He's in prison?"

"Not anymore. Elizabeth told me to do whatever it took to get him out. There wasn't exactly a legal way to get the money needed to bribe the right officials before the deadline. Peter's out, cleared of all charges, but he knows there's something fishy going on. I took a massive risk to get Peter freed, and I'm being blackmailed over it. And after a few moments of gratitude, now all I'm getting from Peter is suspicion. Fortunately, Mozzie figured out how to hack the anklet. As of this week, my two-mile radius is no longer an issue."

"What are you gonna do?" Henry asked.

Canon Neal turned in his chair to face Henry directly. "I'm tired of being the FBI's puppet. My experiences with Agent Kramer taught me I'll never be trusted or treated fairly by them. When the time's right, I'm cutting all the strings and disappearing for good. Probably after Peter gets settled in D.C."

"We're moving to D.C.?" El murmured.

Peter shrugged. Who knew what his career would look like this far in the future?

Neal shook his head at his older self. "Flight instinct. Always bites me in the end."

"At last, progress," Peter said. "Admitting you have a problem is half the battle."

Neal looked ready to retort, but Henry gave them a pointed glance and then continued, "Speaking of D.C., did you connect with our family?"

Canon Neal snorted. "They wouldn't want to associate with me. I'm a criminal who's followed by death and destruction. Kate and Adler and Ellen are all dead. Mozzie was shot, the bullet barely missing his heart. Last time I tried to leave New York, I was shot and brought back in handcuffs. Next time I'm making a clean getaway."

"Did he go to Columbia?" Peter asked, and Henry posed the question to canon Neal.

Canon Neal shook his head. "I didn't remember you as such an optimist. How could I afford that on what the FBI pays? They'd notice if I used my stash from my old crime sprees for something like that, not that there's anything left. Anyway, can you imagine Columbia would want to enroll an ex-con wearing a tracking anklet? I took a few correspondence courses in prison, and added to the list of languages I speak. Studying art might have been fun, but the languages will be more practical. It opens up the list of places where I can go when I'm ready to leave."

"Is it really Christmas?" El asked. "There's no tree, no decorations, no cards."

"What day is it?" Henry asked.

"Christmas Eve," was the answer. "Are you planning some kind of It's a Wonderful Life intervention? I gotta tell you, I'm no George Bailey. I used to try helping my friends, but I've learned my lesson. I just make things worse and they either die or hate me in the end." Canon Neal looked and sounded pained, and the words made Neal's heart drop.

"Oh, Neal," El whispered.

Henry's free hand clenched under the table, but he kept his tone even as he said, "Remember when we were on the road, playing at being rock stars and planning to take down Masterson Music so they couldn't cheat any more musicians?"

"I haven't thought about that in ages. The Urban Legend con. How many times did we try to find the key to pulling that one off? I always regretted we didn't get to try it."

Henry let go of canon Neal to look at his cousin. "Well, there you go, George Bailey. Taking Peter's deal not only gave you a better life, it also meant we took down a corrupt corporate giant."

"It means more than that," said Elizabeth. "Because of that deal, Henry's alive, Neal's going to Columbia, and we're all friends."

"We're also family because of it," Peter said, adding, "We learned that in this reality Noelle and Joe don't meet and get married, so here I'm not your uncle."

Neal nodded. "My going to work at the FBI turned out to be the best for everyone." He thought he'd suppressed how troubled he felt, but apparently wasn't successful.

"Something wrong?" Peter asked him.

"I'd wondered if..." Neal stopped when there was a knock on the door to the loft.

###

Canon Peter opened the door and walked in before canon Neal finished turning around. "The tracking software showed you hadn't moved in hours."

Watching from a spot near the fireplace, El squeezed Peter's hand. "You aged well," she said, sounding like she was grasping for something positive to say.

Peter wanted to give himself the benefit of the doubt. Canon Neal may have been exaggerating how bad things were, but his gut was telling him something was wrong. The tension between them wasn't something canon Neal had imagined.

Canon Neal had picked up his palette and brush when Henry let go of him, but now he put them aside. "Guess I lost track of time. I get in a zone when I'm painting. You know how it is."

"Can't say I do. I wondered if the anklet was malfunctioning. Or hacked."

"It's the best on the market. Never been beaten."

"That was true when we first made our deal, but there've been several improvements since then." Canon Peter held up a box. "I brought you a present. I was going to wait until you were back in the office, but it seemed best to bring it by now."

Canon Neal rolled his eyes. He played it sarcastically, but looked a little apprehensive. "And I didn't get you anything. I'm not exactly in a Christmas mood."

Canon Peter opened the box, which held a tracking anklet. "It's time for an upgrade."

Canon Neal stood and placed his foot on one of the chairs. Canon Peter handed him the key to unlock the anklet. He handed over the old anklet and took the new one, holding it up to get a good look. Then he glanced at his handler. "When did you stop trusting me, Peter?"

"When I remembered that you're a criminal. I let myself forget that for a while, but I'm seeing things more clearly now. The whole team is like family. You know that, but you're not above taking advantage of it, either. El reminded me that I've been letting my emotions guide my decisions too much recently. I can't afford to do that anymore." He looked away, as if that had been as painful to say as it was to hear. "Put it on." He watched to make sure the anklet snapped completely shut. "There we go."

Canon Neal placed his foot back on the floor. "Yeah, there we go. So this is the new, improved, unemotional Peter Burke?"

"I'm not turning into a Vulcan," Peter protested. "I'm just remembering that part of my job is – was – keeping you from violating the terms of your release, and I haven't always had the objectivity to do that."

From where he was watching, Peter frowned. Why refer to that role in the past tense? Looking around, he saw that El, Neal, and Henry were all frowning, too.

"So now it's up to Jones, or whoever takes your place as my handler. Are you gonna find someone willing to risk his career by working with me?"

Canon Peter grimaced. "Did he tell you I said that? I realize it sounded harsh, but I was being candid with him. You present a lot of challenges, stuff I'd never considered when we first made your deal. You have... baggage. Your dad. WITSEC. Enemies like Keller. The impacts to El, to my career... I went to prison, Neal. Me!"

As canon Peter got more agitated, so did canon Neal. He ran his hands through his hair and there was a brightness in his eyes that might have been tears. "Yeah, and everyone rallied around to support you. We all worked our asses off hoping to find a way to clear you. Kinda like everyone did when I was falsely accused of stealing the treasure. Oh, wait. That's right. No one believed me. I had to handle that on my own. And with no one backing me up, Keller was able to jump in to take advantage of the situation. You know it tore me apart too when he kidnapped El."

That brought another gasp from the listeners.

Canon Neal sounded particularly bitter as he continued, "And your career isn't exactly suffering, is it? You got the big promotion and fancy new car. The team's closure rate is at record levels. And this is my reward." He gestured toward the new anklet. "Yeah, Merry Christmas."

"Don't make me out to be the Grinch here. You reap what you sow."

The visitors had been quiet as the drama unfolded, but Henry couldn't take anymore. "See? I told you! I told you two years ago that if you treated Neal like a criminal, he'd believe he couldn't change. This is exactly what I was warning you about!"

Peter patted him on the back. "I got this." He stepped forward and put a hand on the shoulder of older, canon Peter. "What the hell are you doing?"

Canon Peter stared at him, then glanced at Neal. "Is this some kind of joke? Neal?" He waved his hand in front of canon Neal's face, but the younger man had frozen as soon as Peter interacted with his alternate self. "What did you do to him? Who are you, some kind of impersonator?" He snapped his fingers in front of Neal. "It's not funny, Neal. This is not the time to be fooling around."

"I'm you. A version of you from an alternate timeline."

Canon Peter looked him over, studying him as if he were a puzzle to be solved. "Where'd you get those pajamas? I thought I convinced El to give them away."

"Watch closely," Peter said. He removed his hand and then touched canon Peter again a second later. "You think an impersonator could disappear and reappear like that?"

Canon Peter shook his head. "It's unbelievable, but how do I doubt the evidence that I see and hear and feel right in front of me? Okay. I — that is you — wouldn't pop into another timeline for no reason. What do you want?"

"I'm trying to figure out what turned me into Scrooge."

"I'm not Scrooge. But at least he believed in earning your way legitimately with hard work. Neal's too prone to taking shortcuts. He needs to learn he can't get away with that. I'm putting a stop to it the only way I know how."

"By moving to D.C. and abandoning him?"

"Listen, I won't deny Caffrey's brilliant, and he can lure you into a fun ride if you're willing to ignore all the rules he breaks. But in the end, he's a con and I'm a agent, and those don't mix, not if you're also trying to be both friends and colleagues. I've let him get away with too much, and now I'm admitting that it's gone too far. He needs to start over with someone who can be objective. For both our sakes, it's time to cut the ties."

"Well, they agree on that at least," Henry muttered.

"Sniping isn't helping." Before canon Peter could ask who he was talking to, Peter grabbed Henry's nearest wrist and turned back to canon Peter. "His name's Henry. Do you see him?"

Canon Peter nodded.

"Henry, time to show off those degrees in psychology. I hadn't realized how much the things you told me two years ago stuck with me, but I can see now it made a world of difference. Talk to him."

Henry nodded. "If you want Neal to act like a consultant for the FBI instead of acting like a criminal, then you need to be consistent. Treat him like a consultant. If you keep treating him like a criminal and calling him one, then you essentially brainwash him into thinking that's all he'll ever be. In that scenario, don't be surprised if he acts like a criminal. Not just a criminal like he was before – out to take something because it's there and he enjoys the challenge – but one with a grudge because he feels betrayed by his so-called-friends in the FBI."

Peter glanced around to see where Neal had gone, and saw he'd put his hand on his canon counterpart's shoulder. "Both of you hear that?" Peter asked.

Both Neals nodded.

Canon Neal looked around his apartment in wonder. "I thought Henry was a ghost, frozen in time as younger than me, but that doesn't explain why I'm seeing a younger version of myself and of Peter. I'm grateful for what Henry's trying to explain but... What? How?" He spread his hands in a gesture of defeat. "I don't even know what to ask."

"How about a glass of wine?" Neal suggested. "This could take a while."

Lavinia pounded her umbrella on the floor again. This time it made Peter think of a judge pounding a gavel. "You may continue this conversation without remaining in constant contact."

Peter and Neal removed their hands from their counterparts. "Still see us?" Peter asked, and the canon versions of themselves nodded. "Okay. Let's get comfortable and have what I call a Caffrey Conversation."

The Neals bumped into each other as they stepped toward the wine cabinet. "Sorry," said the visiting Neal. "It's your place. You do the honors."

"No," Lavinia said. "The wine must wait."

With a shrug, they joined Peter and Henry in pulling dining chairs toward the living area. Everyone but Lavinia sat down. She seemed determined to stand guard.

"We're from another universe," Neal told his canon counterpart. "In our timeline, it's December 2005 and I didn't go to prison. I ran into Peter when he was working undercover on a case two years ago. The crew was led by someone too violent for my taste, and I helped Peter catch him. After that I started working as a consultant for the FBI."

"How'd you avoid prison time?" canon Neal asked.

"I gave a confession in return for immunity. Working for Peter and the FBI... It's like learning a new language. They think differently than I'm used to, but it's been worth the effort of learning how to communicate with them."

"Absolutely," Peter agreed. "You've done great work. You've helped people and made a difference. We've both had to make some compromises along the way." Turning to his counterpart he added, "Not breaking the law, but being willing to approach things differently from what I learned at Quantico." He paused. "Sounds like you need to talk some stuff through with El and with Neal. What I've heard is that they both feel they need to keep things from you. Has it always been that way?"

Canon Peter started to answer, and then paused to think it over before saying, "El, too?" He looked to canon Neal for clarification.

"She was desperate to get you out of prison," was all he'd say.

That made canon Peter sigh. "Okay, I'll talk to her about that when I get home. But to answer your question, no, we haven't always been at odds. There were times we made a great team, and that only works when you communicate and trust each other. Or even if there wasn't trust, at least there was faith." He looked at his version of Neal. "Remember breaking into the U-boat? Talk about a leap of faith."

Canon Neal studied him, as if looking for something. Or longing for something. "Yeah. And I remember being Butch and Sundance, breaking into a bank to stop the thieves already inside. You're right. We made a good team sometimes. But lately, especially since you got out of prison, you seem like someone else. Instead of the friend who was with me on the U-boat, you seem more like the agent who accused me of stealing the treasure. Henry was right about that. I felt betrayed and that feeling turned me against you. If you'd listened to me when I'd said I was innocent, things could have gone very differently."

"Are you innocent this time?" canon Peter challenged.

"There are a few things that I did recently with the best intentions, but the Bureau wouldn't see it that way."

"Again? After everything we did to get you back from the island and reinstate your deal? Did you get homesick visiting me in prison and decide you wanted to go back?"

"How many times are you going to remind me that you can send me back to prison?"

"That isn't... I'm not threatening to send you back. But don't you see what you're doing? Jeopardizing your deal is bad enough at any time, but now is not... Don't you see the position I'm in?"

"Yeah, you're safe and cleared of all charges. I'd love to be in your shoes."

They glared at each other.