diversified | with my sword and head held high [closed]

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with my sword and head held high [closed]

Case closed, bad guy's caught, and there aren't any new cases burning a hole on his desk that he needs to deal with immediately. Which makes his morning trip over to June's to see Neal pretty out of the ordinary, but Peter's not going there for business. No, there's something more important the two of them need to talk about and it's not something they can discuss at the office.

The maid lets him in and he makes his way up to the balcony apartment where Neal makes his home. As soon as he gets onto the third floor, he can feel the buzz of another immortal nearby and he has to keep himself from putting his hand near where his sword hides in his jacket. It's just Neal, he thinks to himself, but he knows he won't calm down until he sees him. Once he's out on the balcony and sees that yes, it is Neal, he pulls himself out of alert.

"Neal, I've been thinking about something. I think it's time we had a talk."

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Neal couldn't help but stiffen at the feeling in the back of his head. He had been riding high on the success of catching the Dutchman, the prospect of freedom. Well, it was a gilded cage over the previous one he had been in, but it gave him much more opportunity now that he had access to Mozzie and, through Mozzie, the world. Kate. He would find her. He would find her and tell her what he had been hiding — one of them, anyway. The one he was being reminded of just now with the Buzz rattling about.

He turned toward the door, eyes flickering between it and the terrace entrance, knowing who it was most likely to be yet unwilling to let his muscles relax until he could confirm it was Peter. Was here back again for the coffee? When the agent made his way over, Neal let himself melt back into the chair.

"I didn't do it," Neal said immediately. What was this about? Surely Peter couldn't be regretting his decision to have Neal on as a consultant already. He had done the song and dance about capability already, hadn't he? "Whatever it is."

The look on Peter's face is one of annoyance and exasperation as he sits down at the table, but it disappears as his eyes settle on the coffee. It's hard to really get Peter in a mood when there's good coffee and better things to talk about than Neal's supposed innocence.

"We can discuss what you didn't do later. Right now, I wanted to talk to you about the Game."

Neal let his brow furrow noticeably. Nothing had really been proven toward his real age, even when he had been arrested, and so there was no reason for Peter to think Neal was incapable of playing. Or, rather, there was no reason for Peter to think Neal could not keep his head despite the radius imposed upon him. It just made things more of a challenge, not necessarily more dangerous.

"Are you worried? That's a cute look for you, but I doubt Elizabeth would like knowing you're worried for another man," Neal said, bobbing his head to infuse the statement with something between eagerness and mocking.

Peter may not know how old Neal is nor that he hasn't been involved in the Game, but what he does know is that when he was arrested, he didn't have a sword on him and for an immortal of any age, that's really unheard of unless the immortal in question lived on holy ground. Pouring coffee into a cup and then taking a sip, he looks over at Neal and frowns a bit.

"El won't mind if it means I'm keeping you from losing your head." He has no problem hinting that she's aware of their immortality. "You don't have a sword."

Since they didn't seem to be on their way to the office on some confusing charge or another, Neal took the opportunity to work on his toast. Peter would likely sit here a while longer just to savor June's amazing coffee, and it would give him time to figure out what angle Peter was working toward. Of course Neal didn't have a sword. Sure, he could have asked Mozzie to bring something by and the younger man would have been happy to oblige helping Neal defend himself from a world of mystery, intrigue and unfairly beautiful people. However...

That just wasn't Neal's style. He never intended to take a life, and he would be damned if he started just because everyone else in his class was doing it too. So why did Peter seem to think it a topic worth talking about?

"Oh, was I supposed to be carrying?" asked Neal, brows raised. He took the Elizabeth revelation in stride; after seeing the two of them interact, it didn't surprise him that Peter's secret was really more of a Burke secret. "Me, the convicted felon? As you're so eager to bring up." He paused, taking a sip of his own coffee and readjusting his paper to glance over some headlines. "Besides, I didn't think you'd want me getting into fights anyway."

Taking the time to savor the most amazing coffee he's ever had was one of the reasons he arrived so early, but Peter did want to spend most of the time they had before they had to head into the office talking about this. It was important to know where exactly Neal stood when it comes to the Game and if he was honest with himself, Peter really didn't want Neal to lose his head because of the terms of his release. Neal was his responsibility and he wasn't going to let him die on his watch.

"As long as you're with me, you're not getting into any fights." If worst comes to worse, Peter would break the rules and cut off someone's head for challenging an unarmed combatant. "I don't want you carrying a sword around with you, but it'd be a good idea if you kept one in the apartment in case of emergencies."

"In case of emergencies," Neal said flippantly, "I could probably just hop off the terrace and hobble my way to the church down the road." He was guardedly amused at Peter's insistence, finding it at odds with what he knew to be Peter's MO: keep Neal out of as much trouble as possible. Wasn't acquiring a weapon one of those things the FBI tended to look out for?

He shrugged next. "If it'll help you sleep at night, I'll turn a few stones over. See if I can't find anything to hang over the mantle." Because if Neal Caffrey was going to own a weapon, it was going to be one worth displaying, something with the weight of history behind it to justify its bloody existence. He didn't intend to use it, anyway; his immortal life was much better served furthering his own interests rather than playing to the tune of a Game that no one knew the words to.

"If you even get that far," Peter muttered into his coffee as he took a sip. "They'd take advantage of your injuries if you try that."

He's dealt with other immortals in the past and some of them had been real bastards. But he can deal with Neal's issue of not carrying a sword as long as somebody (namely Peter) is keeping an eye on him. For now though, he can at least give Neal a sword to keep around the apartment.

"You don't need to look for one. I've got a sword you can hang up." It was at that point that Peter put the cup down on the table so that he could draw his sword and hold it out for Neal to inspect.

In a busy city like New York, even an attack in the middle of the night wouldn't be unnoticeable. There were about a hundred different ways that jumped to mind on how Neal might escape some headstrong immortal busting into his place, not the least of which being to charm his way out of it.

"Peter," Neal said, haltingly, as the enormity of that gesture settled upon him. He took the proffered moment to sit up and lean toward the sword, one hand hovering underneath the blade to hold it there by respect alone. Not actually touching, because even swords made him uncomfortable when outside the context of their artistic value. Sometimes even in that context. He had to admit, however, that for all the value it lacked in Neal's world, it was absolutely taken care of and more than sharp enough to do its job should the need ever arise.

"Peter," he tried again, "I can't take your sword. That's like assisted suicide with us, and I'm really not into that."

It probably said something about him, Neal mused, that when Peter had drawn his blade, he hadn't even flinched at the thought of all this being some sort of elaborate set-up. What it said and in what language was something Neal was not going to try to decipher right now. (Is this what trust feels like?)

For a moment, Peter thought that he had made the wrong choice in drawing his sword, but when Neal reacts to the gesture instead of the actual drawing of it, he knew that he made the right choice. He's almost amused by the response, knowing that Neal is unaware as to just how prepared he is when it comes to protecting himself from other immortals.

"Neal, you can take this sword. I keep a spare in the car." There's more than what Peter's saying, but he's not planning on bringing it up with Neal right now. "You won't be committing assisted suicide by taking it."

Neal stole a glance to watch Peter's expression while he spoke, obviously still not sure what to do with the offer. It was easy to see that the agent was completely sincere about handing over his sword for Neal to use in case of an emergency. Neal did not want the excuse when he knew that he would rather avoid the fight all together.

Despite that, Neal reached for the handle to test the weight of the sword. He played up his hesitancy as much as he thought he might get away with (and even then, he pushed it a little) and frowned as he considered the implications of keeping a sword on him, in some capacity or another, for the first time in his immortal life.

"And the Bureau isn't going to come breathing down my neck for having acquired a deadly weapon?" he asked. That was another issue. There was nowhere Neal could put the blade that would keep it in easy access without making it highly visible at the same time; jokes about the mantle aside, he would likely end up displaying it on the wall to try and hide it in plain sight. If anyone but Peter were to come into his home and discover it... what then? "That's the kind of thing the law usually frowns on."

There's a sigh from Peter at Neal's question. It was something Peter had already thought about when he first planned to get Neal out of prison before anybody noticed he wasn't aging and he already had an idea as to how he could make it so nobody would harass Neal over having a bladed weapon in his possession.

"Neal, you're a nonviolent criminal, so you having a weapon wouldn't have anywhere near as many problems as someone who was put away for violent crimes," he explained patiently with that tone of voice most people would use when exasperated with children, but with Peter was turning into his default tone when dealing with Neal. "And do you expect any agents other than me coming over?"

"I don't know, Peter," he said measuredly, looking over the flat of the blade to inspect the agent across from him. "Do I?"

It was something of a challenge. For all Neal trusted Peter Burke, there were plenty of other elements at hand that were completely outside of his control. His life was only partially his right now and denying it would do no good in a situation like this. Much as he hated to sound like Mozzie, there were always times when it better suited to play things close to home.

Setting the blade down carefully in the center of the table, still undecided on accepting it, Neal continued, "If anyone found me with a battle-ready sword on hand, they'd probably arrest first and ask questions later which isn't going to help my deal with the FBI."

"You don't," Peter answered firmly. "You're my CI, which means you're my responsibility."

When Neal put the sword down on the table, he went over and picked up the sword once again, holding it in a way that was showing that it was something important to him. That sword had a lot of history and giving it to Neal, even temporarily, was a sign that Peter had some hope about him. It was the sword his teacher gave him and Peter would one day pass it on to his student.

"I'm not the only Immortal at the Bureau, Neal. I'll get in contact with someone higher up and make sure they turn a blind eye towards you having a sword, even if you somehow piss off another agent enough to make a house call."

Neal tilted his head in deference to that. Peter wasn't all-powerful at the Bureau but he definitely had a good amount of pull and Neal was willing to let that dog lie for a while longer while everyone else settled into their new arrangement. Other agents getting curious or suspicious was bound to happen, but Neal gave it a month or two before they would act on it. Plenty of time to figure out better alternatives or get Peter to reconsider the whole keeping-a-sword thing.

With the way Peter was handling the blade, Neal could make some connections. Whether it was his first sword or not was hard to say, but it was important and had not only the weight of old history behind it but the power of personal history as well. His brow furrowed as he took in the offer that had been made in light of that new understanding. Peter was willing to lend Neal something that important?

"Didn't think you knew how to turn a blind eye," Neal teased instead. That was one of the things he both liked and found infuriating. Just another piece to Peter Burke. "Do I get to know any names of the others like us in our alphabet soup?"

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with my sword and head held high [closed]

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