Disclaimer: same as Chapter 1

Author's notes:

- The last chapter! I'd like to thank my wonderful readers and reviewers for their appreciation and their support.

- To LvSammy: thank you for your review. I'm very glad I have made you go 'Awwww'! ;-)

- Details about the Greek goddess Athena come from Wikipedia.

- To all American fans of WC: the show comes back on January 17th, you bunch of lucky guys. Enjoy!

Chapter 14: The blue-green eyed goddess

The two men remained embraced for a long time, not caring about the possibility of somebody seeing them through the glass door of the conference room. Frankly, after the day's close call, they wouldn't have given a damn about anything. Peter, still hugging Neal close, could feel faint tremors under his hands and he understood his friend was nearing exhaustion. The Stone Case (as Peter had started to name it) had brought lots of stress on the ex-convict with a combination of fear, worry and constant closeness to danger so it was amazing he hadn't crashed yet. Peter felt a surge of pride at the thought: Neal was more resilient than the vast majority of F.B.I. agents he knew and his intelligence would put many persons to shame. Had he had followed training at Quantico, Neal would have graduated at the top of his class and the agencies directors would have torn each other to pieces like a bunch of wildcats to have him on their teams. It's too bad the sirens' call of cons had been too powerful to resist, depriving Neal of four years of freedom… But Peter Burke had sworn he would grant the young man a chance for an honest life and he would be good to this promise. His partner was so smart and gifted it would be criminal to put him back in jail again.

Neal burrowed his face deeper in Peter's strong shoulder, making the older man stroke gently the dark curls covering the nape of the young man's neck in a soothing gesture. Neal had a small smile and then he closed his eyes to regain a bit of composure but the day's events kept on running through his mind like a runaway train: June's warning, Stone attacking him in the bullpen, Taylor trying to interfere, Stone pulling a gun at the new kid, and then at Neal before threatening Peter; his own feelings of rage and anger after realizing Stone wanted to hurt his Peter; and then Socrates jumping right in his hand and doing a marvelous job in knocking out the maniac.

As on cue, a quote by the Greek philosopher sprung into Neal's mind: "Be slow to fall into friendship; but when thou art in, continue firm and constant"; good ol' Socrates, he was right as rain even centuries after his death. Painful past circumstances had forced Neal to be very cautious about friendships, even with Mozzie and Kate. He adored Mozzie but he also knew the little man wouldn't compromise his safety for anything in the world, not even to save Neal from great trouble. And Kate… Gosh, the woman had been the great love of his life, the one he had opened his heart to and yet she had dumped him like last week's trash. Neal had to admit – it hurt to do so – but Kate had ambitioned to make a con's career of her own without Neal's tutelage. She had prided herself good enough to play in the big league only to be fooled by Keller, entrapped by Fowler and meet a terrible end. Only Agent Burke had proved to be a true friend, the only one Neal had come to trust – no matter how aberrant it would appear to an outside eye. Real friendship was uncharted territory for the young man and at times, it was a little bit frightening but also most welcome, especially after dealing with a very dangerous situation.

After a long moment, Neal moved his head to whisper in the older man's ear:

"Peter?"

"Mmh?"

"What's going to happen?"

"What do you mean? Oh, you are worried about you defending yourself against Stone, but you shouldn't. Hughes said he would vouch for you, remember?" asked the agent, tightening ever so slightly his hold as if he wanted to protect his partner from potential enemies.

"I'm not worried about me, I'm just… wondering what's going to happen to Stone. How does the Bureau deal with this kind of situation?"

Peter let out a deep sigh, and then he broke the embrace to look at Neal in the eyes.

"I'm not going to lie to you, buddy. Cases like this are very rare but alas, it had happened in the past: agents cracking up from work pressure, PTSD, family matters… A few committed suicide or resigned but the rest have been sent to follow long-term medical treatments."

"Do you mean they have been institutionalized?"

"Some of them, yes. And that's what is going to happen with Stone: the man is a danger to him and others, there's no way we can let him go home with the hopes he'll take his pills like a good little patient. No, he has to remain under constant medical supervision and probably for the rest of his life."

"Do you think there will be a trial of some sort?"

"No, the top executives won't allow the scandal to come out of this building. They'd rather deal with the matter discreetly…"

"Mozzie would rather say they want to sweep it under the carpet."

"Probably and for once, I'd agree with him," said Peter with a half-smile. "I don't like this hush-hush situation too but a trial would bring us nothing but bad publicity. We know the perpetrator; there is an abundance of evidence and about thirty witnesses of Stone's aggression, plus Hughes' testimony about sending you undercover so it's an open and shut case. Stone was a loner and there's no chance he had any accomplices in his scheme to kick you out of the F.B.I."

"Accomplices, no… But I'm sure some colleagues would have appreciated his efforts," said Neal, his sapphire eyes getting darker at the recollection of Agent Ruiz's notorious contempt towards him and Agent Rice selling him to truants without a second thought.

"Neal…"

"I don't care about what people think of me outside the White Collar Unit, Peter. After I've accepted Hughes' mission, the only worrying matter was how your people considered me: a pet convict, a troublemaking C.I. or a friend? Another hostile in a suit would have made my undercover situation unbearable. Remember that day in your office, when I asked you if I were tolerated within the Unit? That wasn't part of the cover. I had to know if I could count on your Harvard Squad to watch my back – and my front – in case of confrontations with Stone while you'd be stuck in a meeting somewhere. Well, at least, this mission has confirmed me that I can rely on Jones, Diana, Price and the others as much as I can you. Diana told Stone off after he tried to dump his files on my desk; Price told you about the maniac ambushing me in the men's room; Jones was ready to shoot Stone in the Pit… Heck, even Taylor stepped up to protect me and the poor kid got the fright of his life."

"And what does that tell you, Neal?" asked Peter, his brown eyes shining in pride at the thought his team members would defend their C.I. unconditionally. They were people gifted with both brains and heart intelligence.

"It tells me that I'm actually tolerated within the Unit, and maybe even a little more… And it's not just because of I am good with clerical work, huh, Peter?" added Neal with a little uncertainty in his voice.

The agent let out another sigh but this time, it sounded like the usual 'Neal-you-are-brilliant-but-sometimes-you-get-on-my-nerves' one that Burke let out about four times per day at the office.

"Don't tell me you have believed the line I've fed to Stone, earlier?"

"I know you were cajoling Stone to get his gun from out of my throat, Peter! It's just that, for a second, it sounded real…"

"I'll take it as a compliment for my acting skills and here's another newsflash for you, kid: I loathe lies but I don't mind using them when the situation calls for it, like during a sting or trying to talk to a madman about letting go of his gun. However I don't like lying to my wife, co-workers or partner in real life because it's a breach of trust and, as El could confirm it to you, trust doesn't come easy to me."

"Then why did you agree to our deal?" asked the young man. "I must be the least person you can qualify as 'trustworthy' on this little blue planet…"

"Because I am convinced you can be great, Neal. Once you'd be cured of your dangerous love for glittering things that belong to other persons, you'll realize that the said little blue planet won't stop turning if you don't become the unsurpassed, world's most famous con artist of all times. That's a title for losers, which you're not, and it won't bring you happiness in life; your competitors may think you have gone traitor but you have done the right choice while they are all bound to meet a dark end. The same thing goes for your friends: Alex relies on her looks to get what she wants but she will find herself in a situation where being sexy won't be enough to help her. Mozzie is excessively prudent and that explains why he has managed to survive in the criminal world for all these years, but for how long will his luck hold? And Kate… I don't want to speak badly of the dead but she was a little fish with delusions of grandeur. She made a fatal mistake on the day she dumped you."

"I know," said Neal, bowing his head so the agent wouldn't see his eyes brimmed with tears, but Peter wasn't fooled. He brushed the young man's cheek and added in a softer tone:

"I'm not saying this to upset you, kid. I'm just stating a fact to make you understand why I am so keen in keeping you on the straight and narrow. And after what happened today, I am certain concluding our deal was the right thing to do."

"Thanks," said Neal, his features brightening with one of his trademark smiles, his first genuine one since the day had begun. The smile erased the tears and this sight warmed Peter's heart: his friend was indeed getting better.

"You're welcome. Now, how about getting out of here, Sundance? Hughes gave us the rest of the day off and I can't wait to be home with El."

"Likewise, Butch, I'd appreciate a bit of peace at June's."

The two men left the conference room and Peter stopped at his office to grab his coat and briefcase. Neal walked down the flight of stairs and noticed that the Pit was deserted. Obviously, the rest of the gang had been informed by Hughes to go home early and no one had been keen on staying in a place haunted by the recent presence of a maniac armed with a gun. The office wouldn't be proceed like a usual crime scene; as Peter had stated earlier, the top executives would want to hush up the scandal and police reports would bring too many questions. The Pit had been cleaned up, desks and chairs were back to their initial places and the only visible trace of Stone's violence was the remains of the small statue of Socrates, dumped unceremoniously in a trash can.

Neal gave a silent apology to the Greek philosopher and then he picked up his raincoat and hat, relieved to see this infernal day coming to an end. After a minute, Peter walked down the stairs as well and the two men found themselves waiting for the elevator. Suddenly, Neal asked: "Did I tell you I've started painting again?"

"No, you didn't," answered Peter, pleasantly surprised by this revelation.

"It happened during the case – of all moments! But it felt good to pick up a piece of charcoal and started drawing again. It's like finding something I've lost and thought never to see again. After Kate died I tried to paint but it was no use, I couldn't get her out of my mind. And then, right in the middle of a dangerous case, I feel the need to compose a painting instead of trying to salvage the little hours of sleep I had left. Crazy, huh?"

"It's not crazy, kid; it's the proof that you are starting to heal from your loss. Every person has his or her own way to deal with pain: yours is to paint and that's not surprising, you're an artist to the core. There are many examples of artists who have tried to overcome grief through their art: Victor Hugo wrote hundreds of poems about his eldest daughter Léopoldine after she died in a boat accident; Rudyard Kipling wrote one of his most famous poems after his son Jack was killed in action during WWI…"

"But does that mean I will forget Kate? At times, I feel guilty about playing with color tubes instead of mourning her…"

The elevator arrived with its usual 'ding' and Peter ushered Neal inside the cabin.

"Neal, you will never forget Kate. You're too generous and good-hearted to dismiss her memory like an unwanted burden. She's an integral part of you now and the souvenir of your love will make you grow stronger, instead of crippling you."

"Yeah, yeah. Life goes on, eh?" said Neal with a half-hearted attempt of cynicism.

Peter pressed the 'Ground Floor' button before answering: "No, buddy. Life is beginning".

The next day, Peter picked up Neal at June's mansion. The young man had fallen asleep as soon as his head had touched the pillow of his comfy bed, lost in Dreamland for twelve hours straight. He would have stayed there for an extra two hours if it hadn't been for Naomi knocking loudly at his door, bringing him breakfast on a tray. June had joined him on the terrace and Neal had told her all about Stone, his pathological obsession and his various attempts to send him back to jail. Between two mouthfuls (the first hearty meal he had eaten since Kate's death), Neal had confirmed June the "prowler" she had spotted near the mansion had indeed been Stone with deadly intentions, and her fast action had foiled the rogue agent's assassination attempt. June had grumbled softly under her breath, wishing she had ripped Stone's ear off his head instead of clipping it and about how "it would have served him just right".

Neal had thanked June for her intervention and he had invited her for dinner and a dance on Saturday night. June had chuckled in contentment since the restaurant was frequented by Mrs. Baxter: that jealous gossipmonger would be green of envy to watch June Arbogast dancing with such a beautiful, talented partner!

A quick shower, shave and change of clothes, and Neal had rushed downstairs to find Peter waiting for him in his Taurus. En route, the young man had asked if they could stop at his bakery to pick up two boxes of muffins.

"Again? You're going to fatten us up, Neal."

"Yes, well, it's part of my master plan to prevent your team mates from running after me," said the ex-convict with a mischievous smile. "I stuff them with muffins for months, the guys get overweight and they won't be able to run fast enough to catch me!"

"Hey, what about me?" protested Peter good-naturally. "I won't fall in your trap after what you've said so how are you going to stop me from running after you?"

"Simple: I drive you crazy, you get locked up in the loony bin and the coast is clear."

"Dream on!" grumbled the agent, making Neal chuckle lightly in the background.

Fifteen minutes later, Peter and Neal were in the F.B.I.'s building elevator, the former holding his briefcase with both hands and watching the latter carrying two big boxes with the familiar caption of 'The greatest cakes of NYC'. Judging from the delicious smells emanating from Neal's burden, it wouldn't take long before the Harvard Squad would rally round the kitchen's table, coffee mugs in hand and paper plates on the ready. Maybe Neal's crazy plan would come to fruition, after all…

"Peter?"

"Yes?" answered the agent, snapping out of his reverie.

"I forgot to ask you yesterday, but… What's going to happen to Stone's family? The guy was a nutcase, that's certain, but his wife and kids were as much in danger as we were. How are they going to cope now that Stone is out of the picture? They will be deprived of his salary, his medical insurances, his pension… Mrs. Stone and her boys are also victims of his madness; it wouldn't be fair they should be punished for his actions."

"Don't worry about them; I've talked to Hughes on the phone last night. Mrs. Stone told him she was filing up for divorce; apparently, Stone was a domestic tyrant and she got sick and tired of hearing him yell after their sons for the littlest things. Now that her husband is in psych ward, she won't have any trouble regaining her freedom and start anew. Hughes assured me she will be granted a comfortable sum of money, enough for her to move out of the city and raise her kids upstate New York, in the town where her mother lives."

"I guess she'd rather not stay at their townhouse; it must be filled with unpleasant memories of her husband…"

"Yes, and the selling of the house will also help to get a good start in their new life. I've met Mrs. Stone once, at last year's Bureau commendation dinner. A decent sort of a woman and I remember wondering what was she doing with such a jerk."

"Peter, you have to realize that not everyone is as blessed as you are in choosing of spouses," said Neal, winking at the older man. "By the way, does Elizabeth have a sister?"

The elevator stopped at the nineteenth floor, avoiding Peter to grumble at his cocky partner. But a surprise greeted the two men after they had stepped out of the cabin and pushed open the glass doors of the White Collar Crime Unit: the whole Harvard Squad was waiting for them, clapping their hands and cheering loudly. A startled Neal instinctively took a step backwards but the discreet presence of Peter's hand on the small of his back reassured him that he had nothing to fear. The ex-convict stared at the men and women shouting "Here comes the man" and "Bravo, Neal" for an instant, as if he didn't know what they were talking about and then a brilliant smile graced his handsome face.

"Well done, Caffrey!" said Harris, the tank-sized agent.

"Yeah, great job my man," said Jones. "You pulled our hides from out of the fire, for sure!"

"I can't take all the credit, guys," answered Neal, blushing a little after Diana had kissed him on the cheek. "You all kept your cool and…"

"What's going on here?" asked a loud voice, and all heads turned to see Reese Hughes leaning on the mezzanine's railing in his usual bird of prey posture, not to forget the frown on his face.

"Er… We're just welcoming Caffrey back, Sir!" said Diana.

"I can see that, Berrigan, but how about getting back to work? Those cases are not going to be solved by themselves!"

"Aw, you can't possibly ask those good people to work without having a taste of these delicious De Luxe muffins provided by 'The greatest cakes in this beautiful city of New York' and compliments of yours truly, Sir. It would be inhuman!" said Neal, presenting the two big boxes he had been carrying.

Hughes' blue eyes widened at the mention of pastries.

"De Luxe muffins?" repeated the Director of the White Collar Unit.

"Why, yes! There is a variety of Hearts-of-Chocolate, Strawberry Supremes, Cream of Oranges, Grand Marnier Specials, Desert Dates…"

"All right, Caffrey…" said Hughes, his lower jaw moving ever so slightly to dissimulate his growing hunger.

"And we have also Dreams of Blueberry, Shards of Caramel, Extreme Almonds…"

"Caffrey! You get those muffins on the kitchen table right now, and that's an order!" roared the Director while running down the stairs, unable to wait for having a go at the muffins. The members of the Unit had a hard time not to laugh out loud at their superior's sweet tooth but they nonetheless escorted Neal to the kitchen's corner. The boxes were opened, revealing indeed mouth-watering pasties and the federal agents didn't waste time in pouring coffee in mugs and making their choice through Neal's latest temptations. Peter took a Strawberry Supreme and walked to his office with Hughes in tow, carrying a Grand Marnier Special and a Banana Madness on a paper plate (plus a Cream of Oranges for Barbara). Then, someone tapped Neal lightly on the shoulder; the young man turned about and saw it was Jonathon Taylor, looking shyly at him while carrying a small white box between his hands.

"Hi, Jon," said Neal with a kind smile.

"Hi, Caffrey. I-I just wanted… Er… Well, I'd like you to have this," said the youngster, presenting the box.

Neal stood dumfounded for an instant and then he realized the other agents had stopped raiding the muffin boxes to look at him.

"For me? Jon, I didn't get you anything."

"Y-You don't have to. It's a thank-you present for saving my life yesterday."

"Taylor, you don't have to…"

"I insist, Caffrey. It's not much, considering the debt I owe you, but I t-think you'll like it… Well, I hope so, anyway."

Neal accepted the box and, knowing all the other agents' eyes were focused on him, he took his time in opening it to make the suspense last longer. But his hands shook a little after he took out the present hidden under the light grey silk paper: it was a small statue carved in the most exquisite classical art, the bust of a woman wearing an elaborated helmet and Neal identified her in a snap.

"Oh my gosh! It's Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom, courage, inspiration, civilization, law and justice, just warfare, mathematics, strength, strategy, weaving, arts and crafts!" exclaimed Neal.

"What, she supervised all this? Quite a busy woman!" said Jones.

"Oh yes, she was the incarnation of the disciplined, strategic side of war while her half-brother Ares embodied violence and bloodshed. That's why she's often represented with the image of Nike, 'Victory' in Greek. In Homer's 'Iliad' and 'Odyssey', she is constantly referred as 'the blue-green eyed goddess'. She would make a great patron for the F.B.I.! Thank you, Jon, I really appreciate this."

"I thought you'd like it and… I wanted you to have another statue to decorate your desk, since you smashed the former one on Stone's face to save us all."

Neal shook Taylor's hand, earning another round of applause and cheering from the agents, and then he looked up and noticed Peter watching him from the mezzanine, a muffin in hand and his favorite mug in another.

Neal took the statue and raised his arm for his friend to have a better look at it and then, he saw something that made his heart melt inside his chest.

Peter had his 'Proud Papa' grin on his face.

THE END!