Chapter 10: After Party

Connecticut. January 1, 2004 – Thursday morning.

After stopping for coffee, they returned to the car and Peter took the driver's seat. Once they were back on the road he asked, "You had a dog named Sasha?"

"Huh?" Neal said.

"You said, 'Sasha, stay.' Sounded like you were talking to a dog."

"I never had a dog." Neal sounded puzzled.

"But a dog was there, when you saw someone get shot."

"Peter, what are you talking about?"

"Your flashback, of watching someone get shot."

"I don't remember anything like that," Neal insisted.

"You said you repressed some memories," Peter said, trying to be vague since Jones didn't know Neal had been abused as a child.

"Yeah, but... She... They told me what happened. No one mentioned a dog, or someone being shot." Neal sounded upset now. "Why wouldn't she have told me about that?"

"You were nine years old. That might have been more intense than they thought you could handle."

"When I was nine, sure. But why not later?"

"Did you really talk about it later?" Peter asked.

Neal shrugged. "There's a lot we didn't talk about, I guess."

As they entered New York City, traffic became heavy. People who had gathered in Times Square for New Year's Eve were heading home. Peter offered to drop Jones off, first, but the junior agent declined saying, "I'd like to go along to Caffrey's place, if you don't mind. Say hey to Mr. Ellington if he's awake."

When they arrived at the mansion, Byron and June were in the music room, chatting with a short, balding man with dark-rimmed glasses. Peter didn't recognize him.

"... and that's how I came into possession of a bottle of Shackleton whiskey," the man was saying, as June laughed. And Peter knew the voice. This was Neal's friend Mozzie.

Neal paused before entering the room. When he straightened his posture and added a carefree grin, you almost couldn't tell how exhausted he was. Peter was impressed by the skill that made Neal perfect for cons and undercover work, while worried about the fact Neal was treating real life as a con. What lengths would this kid go to, to make his friends happy?

"Are we too late for the party?" Neal asked, as he strolled casually into the room.

"Happy New Year!" June stood to embrace him. "Peter, Clinton, won't you join us? Mozzie, another round of champagne for our guests, please."

Neal took a chair beside Byron, while the FBI agents followed June to a buffet table. Peter grabbed a plateful of finger foods and a cup of coffee. Jones took up the offer of champagne, but as the driver Peter was too tired to indulge. He brought his food back to the music room, planning to talk to Mozzie, but when he saw Neal and Byron deep in conversation, he couldn't resist listening.

"The thing is," Neal said, "Peter's been asking if I have any regrets, about the crimes I committed."

"Do you?" Byron asked.

"Well, no. But I can't win. If I tell him the truth, he'll be disappointed in me for not having regrets. But if I say I do have regrets, he'll be disappointed in me for lying to him."

"You can't live your life to please other people."

Neal eyed Byron in surprise. "Isn't that what you did? You gave up the life for your family."

"No, you can't look at it like that. I gave it up to have a family, because they were more important to me. If they weren't, I wouldn't have been able to stick with it. But I didn't regret the choices I made. How could I, when they led me to June and our girls? I wouldn't do a damn thing different." Byron reached out, and patted Neal's hand. "You gotta ask yourself, are you satisfied with where you are now?"

"Are you kidding?" Neal asked. "Living here. Working for Peter and finally getting some interesting work at the FBI. Friends like you. I wouldn't change that."

"And if you had to choose, between giving up what you have now forever to return to the life, or giving up the life forever to keep what you have now... Do you know what you'd choose?"

Neal didn't even pause to think about it. "I'd choose what I have now."

"But you enjoyed it. The cons, the heists."

"Exactly," Neal said. "It was fun. It was exciting. Every once in a while I'd join a crew and find out they planned to get violent, to hurt people, and I'd get out. I stayed with the jobs I enjoyed. And I was good at it. I was proud of what I was able to do. And... and I'm still proud of it. But I think the Bureau won't accept that. I have this friend who says that they'll label me a sociopath if they know I'm not sorry for my crimes."

Byron laughed hoarsely. "Sociopath. Folks always gotta complicate things. This friend, he think you're a sociopath?"

"No. Henry says I've got too much regret in my life, not too little. That I try to take responsibility for the safety and happiness of everyone around me, and blame myself if anything goes wrong in their lives."

"That's a heavy burden. That's what's got you worried now, isn't it? You're worried your new friends at the FBI will be unhappy because you aren't unhappy about your past life. You think you gotta be miserable to make them like you?"

"Maybe."

"You're not a sociopath, boy. You're an addict."

"What? No!" Neal protested. "I never –"

"Listen to me. A con is a rush. It's an addiction, like a drug. Most folks have to hit rock bottom before they can give it up. Me, I went to prison twice and almost went back again. I realized I wouldn't be around to see my girls grow up, if I didn't make a change. That was what made me stop. Now, you... You got a rare chance here. What you did tonight, did it give you the same rush?"

"It wasn't exactly the same. But yeah, the rush was there."

"If you can exchange an addiction they don't approve of, for one they sanction, you got it all. Don't even have to face any withdrawal. You've got it made, boy. You should be happy, and they should be happy for you."

"I wish they understood that," Neal said.

Byron looked right up at Peter, who had been lurking silently behind Neal. "You understand, Fed?"

"I'm starting to," Peter said.

Neal stared up at him, shock apparent on his face. "I didn't know..."

Peter set his plate down. "Yeah, and the fact that you didn't know I was here tells me you really need to get some sleep. It's a holiday. Get some rest and we'll talk at the office on Friday."

Byron said, "You look tired, Neal, and that's saying a lot coming from me these days. You give June one more hug and head on upstairs."

Neal squeezed Byron's hand gently, and then walked over to June. Peter watched his consultant wish everyone a Happy New Year and then make his exit.

"Sit on down," Byron said. "I can't stand up long enough these days to come up to your level and look intimidating."

Peter took the same chair Neal had used. "You're good with him."

"Helps that I don't think he's a sociopath."

"I never said he was," Peter stated calmly. "But I can see why he would be worried I might think it. I wish I had your wisdom."

"Comes with a price," Byron said. "Seeing the end of your life staring you in the face, that gives you some clarity you don't always have. I wish I had more time to help him through everything he's gonna face."

"I think you've already made a big difference."

"I hope that's right. He's a special one. You see it, that's why you recruited him instead of arresting him. I don't think he realizes how rare he is, and that's gonna be hard on him. Me, I had a friend I tried to turn around, but I finally realized Ford can't change. This Kate that Neal talks about, he'll want to bring her along with him. If she can't change, he's gonna suffer. I don't think I'll be around long enough to see him through that."

"What can I do to help him?" Peter asked.

"Remind him, he has value. The work he's doing for you, it has value. That's how you keep him. What he did before, that was fun. And what he's doing now is fun. If it's a choice between one form of fun and another, that's a toss-up, right? It's a flip of the coin. Keep reminding him, the difference is he's helping people, now. And the people in his new life, the ones like you, you care about him. That's how you keep old friends from dragging him back to his old life." Byron paused for a sip of champagne. "Don't tell my doctor about this. Peter, you keep reminding him, everything he did, every skill he picked up, he can use it for good. You're glad he has those skills, and you need to let him know it. Don't judge him on how he got those skills, 'cause there's nothing he can do to change the past. You need to let that go. He can work for the FBI, and still be himself. Be content with that, and let him be happy."

Peter had more questions for Byron, but the man looked as tired as Neal had. Instead he made eye contact with June, who made her way over to chat. After a minute, Peter wished the couple a Happy New Year, and said he needed to get home. Jones added his best wishes, as well. Mozzie had disappeared. But back in the car, Jones said, "That little guy, Mozzie? He is one strange dude."

"What did he say?" Peter asked as he started the engine.

"What didn't he say? At first I thought he was onto the tracking you asked me to do, using Neal's cell phone records to test of the data the NSA is pulling from carriers. But then I realized he thinks every government agency is part of a conspiracy, and privacy is a myth. And he says the moon landing was a fake. Makes me wonder how he and Neal ever became friends. I don't see Neal going for that kind of nonsense."

Peter shook his head. "I had a fascinating phone conversation with him when I was recruiting Neal. I didn't agree with his ideas, but I suspect he's brilliant in his own way."

"He has an encyclopedic knowledge of alcohol," Jones conceded.