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I've been here, I've been there // Honey, I been somehow everywhere
Neal isn't really sure what's going to happen when the Admiral sends them home. To his home. Where by now, somewhere in the world, Kate is alive and healthy. It's strange to think of her somewhere unknown and not feel the immediate need to go find her. To save, protect, avenge her. It's also strange that even knowing she's out there, even seeing proof, Neal can't shake the guilt of killing her, either. It feels like things should have shifted, that some monumental internal change should have taken place. He still feels the things he always had, but with new knowledge counter it.
It's all swirling in his brain when Norton meets him in his cabin. Still roiling there when Neal squeezes his hand and tells thin air that they're ready.
It snaps to background when, on his next blink, Neal and Norton find themselves in the conference room of the FBI's New York City White Collar division, and Neal is still holding Norton's hand. The door from the office floor swings open and admits a small flood of people in the forms of Peter, Diana, Jones, and... Mozzie?
All four of them stop dead, seeing Neal and a stranger at the far end of the room, plus whatever Norton chose to bring. Neal stares at all of them, bemused.
"I knew it! I told you." Mozzie says, pointing at Neal. He glares at Peter and company in triumph.
Peter's jaw works for a moment before he takes a deep breath, clearly trying to focus on being relieved instead of furious. "Neal. Who's your friend?"
It's all swirling in his brain when Norton meets him in his cabin. Still roiling there when Neal squeezes his hand and tells thin air that they're ready.
It snaps to background when, on his next blink, Neal and Norton find themselves in the conference room of the FBI's New York City White Collar division, and Neal is still holding Norton's hand. The door from the office floor swings open and admits a small flood of people in the forms of Peter, Diana, Jones, and... Mozzie?
All four of them stop dead, seeing Neal and a stranger at the far end of the room, plus whatever Norton chose to bring. Neal stares at all of them, bemused.
"I knew it! I told you." Mozzie says, pointing at Neal. He glares at Peter and company in triumph.
Peter's jaw works for a moment before he takes a deep breath, clearly trying to focus on being relieved instead of furious. "Neal. Who's your friend?"
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Two ‘burners’ of an acceptable quality, anyway. Neal almost kisses Norton, almost moves to do it, but catches himself before he does more than lean in a little. This time when he points, it’s at the Flatiron building. “Madison Square Park is right across from that, it’s where they put the Christmas tree every year.”
He tries to spend the rest of the ride, short as it is, playing tour guide, pointing out the things that can be seen from their route and talking about the things that can’t. When they climb out of the cab at June’s house, Neal takes a moment to study the building and orient himself to where they are.
He tweaks one of the buttons on Norton’s jacket, a brief and subtle touch. “We can trust June. Not with time travel and aliens immediately, maybe, but with the important things.”
A little teasing, a little true.
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And best of all, from what Neal says, it's a proper home where they can be their proper selves (mostly). He grins.
"God bless understanding landladies."
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He draws in a deep breath and leads the way up to the front door, palming his key and letting them both inside when he gets there. It feels almost strange to do it, like he should still be knocking or ringing the bell to let June know he's back. Except for her, he was never gone.
"June?" He takes Norton's hand as soon as they're safely over the threshold and the door is closed behind them. "June, are you home?"
"Upstairs, dear," she calls, her voice slightly muffled by the distance.
Neal gives Norton's hand a squeeze. "Mind if I bring a guest up to introduce him?"
"Oh! Hang on, let me make myself presentable for company."
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"Feels almost as if I'm being introduced to the family. Never had that happen before," he murmurs to Neal. "Being a bit nervous about making a good first impression is part of the experience, right?"
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He almost says as much as I do, but catches himself. Just in case that would be too much. Just in case it would scare Norton off. Just in case.
He picks up the suitcase himself with his free hand as he hears June starting down the stairs, drawing Norton forward to meet her at their base. She’s dressed for an evening in, but flawlessly polished, right down to the present but understated touches of makeup and the little flashes of gold on her fingers and earlobes.
Neal lets go of Norton’s hand for a moment when she’s in reach, hugging her tight with one arm. “You look lovely as always, and I’m sure you did when we walked in, too. June Ellington, may I introduce Norton Folgate?”
He looks at Norton, gesturing him over. “We’re…”
It occurs to him that from June’s perspective Neal himself has barely had time to even process Rebecca’s betrayal, never mind find someone new.
“We met when I was abroad, and Norton is in the States to help me with some work for the FBI.” If Norton allows it, Neal will slip his arm around the other man’s waist. “He… We… were involved, and I’m very glad to say the change in scenery hasn’t changed any of our personal feelings.”
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So when Neal wraps an arm around his waist, he doesn't pull away or tense. Neal said she's family and that she's understanding, and Norton trusts Neal's judgement.
"Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Ellington. Neal speaks very fondly of you."
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She takes one of Norton's hands between both of her own and gives it a little squeeze. "I don't know if Neal has told you much of what he's been dealing with lately, and it's not my business to share if he hasn't, but I'm very, very glad he has someone close here on his side."
Neal smiles down at his feet, pleased and embarrassed at the same time. "He'll be with us for a little while, if that's all right? With me, upstairs."
June turns her attention to Neal, giving him a kiss and a pat on the cheek. "Absolutely."
She looks between the two of them. "If there's anything at all you need, Norton, please don't hesitate to ask."
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"I'll take good care of him."
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June gives Norton’s hand a little squeeze before letting go. “I’m glad to hear it. I won’t keep you, but I would love it if the three of us did breakfast tomorrow.”
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"Still recovering from the trip. Such a beastly flight." A twelve hour trip in 1955, with two refueling stops along the way, and it doesn't quite occur to him that it might have improved in the last sixty years. "It was worth it to be here now, but I have an absolute horror for aeroplanes and I'm completely knackered."
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He knows she has no idea that it's been a couple of months for him, but he can't resist hugging her one more time before they go upstairs. She returns the embrace warmly, though there's a little worry on her face when she lets go.
When they get to Neal's apartment, it's very, very much like his space on the Barge. Almost identical, in fact, except that the veranda isn't backed by a painted cityscape. It's backed by the real thing.
Neal gestures at the space as he closes and then locks the door behind them. "Welcome to the original. Accept no substitutions. Or forgeries."
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"Gosh, that view... You know, if it weren't for the leash and the kidnappers, I'd say you have a perfect home here. Of course, a leash and kidnappers are fairly significant drawbacks."
He turns away from the skyline and slides his arms around Neal's waist. "Thank you. For inviting me home with you. I'd offer to return the favour sometime...but it's probably not a good idea for me to return home, I think. And anyway, a slummy two-up-two-down doesn't make for nearly as nice a holiday as this. Is that a Château L'Angélus?" His attention is distracted by the wine collection.
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He goes over to select the bottle, holding it up. "Should I crack it open? This seems suitably worth celebrating. You and me, here."
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Neal pops the cork and pours them both a generous serving. "We should toast."
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Norton takes the wine glass and raises it. "What shall we toast to? The future? Freedom? I'm on a roll with words that begin with 'F,' so maybe throw in 'fortune' and 'flirtation' as suggestions too."
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short timeskip… lmk if you want to roll back!
He doesn’t draw attention to his word choice, but it’s intentional. Shy, and sideways, and ultimately deniable, but intentional.
When they go to sleep, Neal actually smiles a little as he drifts off. His cabin on the Barge is great, as close as it’s possible to be to the real thing, but it’s still different. The quality of the air, the smells that linger most prominently in his mind. Falling asleep in his apartment, his real apartment, with the man he would drink to that he hopes will drink to him, is a gift and a strange kind of joy.
He’s still very deeply asleep, curled around Norton, when the veranda doors open quietly in the middle of the night. A narrow-faced man in a leather jacket stands just inside the apartment, watching the two of them in bed. When he speaks it’s with an unapologetic Jersey drawl.
“You know, he only ever sleeps that deep when he trusts somebody. Really trusts them. I’m amazed he managed to keep you so quiet that I don’t even know who you are.”
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But since his pistol is somewhere scattered along with his clothes, he decides that the safest approach for now is to play harmless. He puts on an expression of wide-eyed nervous confusion and pulls the blanket up higher for modesty.
"Why would you know who I am? Are you a stalker? Oh my God, of course he has a stalker."
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“Norton? S’matter.”
“First name’s a start.”
Neal wakes up after that, very, very fast. He sits up, hand going to Norton’s shoulder both protectively and for support. He starts to ask who’s there but the words shrivel up half-way to being said.
“No,” is what he says instead. “That’s impossible. You’re in a Russian prison on the other side of the world.”
Keller saunters a little further in, going to open the fridge and give what’s inside a once-over. “Clearly I am not.”
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He doesn't get up from the bed yet, though. Keller hasn't killed them, so he must want something (although it's possible that "something" might just be some time to play with his prey before he murders them), but Neal knows him better than Norton does, so he'll follow Neal's lead.
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Keller snorts, drawing one of the beers that Neal keeps on hand for Peter out of the fridge and knocking the cap off with the edge of the kitchen table. "Plains, trains, and automobiles, sweetheart."
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"Funny, I didn't think Neal's veranda was a stop on the train line, petal. And there's definitely not a road through it."
He lets go of the blanket, kisses Neal's cheek (and adds in a wholly unnecessary caress over his chest), and then starts to move to slide out of the bed.
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