Fic: Questions
Mar. 7th, 2015 10:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
s2309Title: Questions
Characters (Pairings): Sara Ellis, Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke (Sara/Neal)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1040
Spoilers: S03E15 (Stealing Home), S03E16 (Judgment Day).
Warnings: Discussion of an eating disorder.
Disclaimer: White Collar is Jeff Eastin's brainchild. Not mine.
Summary: They're both honest with each other, but it still gets them nowhere.
Author's Note: Originally written for Elr's Promptfest IX, for the prompt Sara: Questions. This has been expanded a little. Episode tag.
Truth is wearying.
By the end of his story, Neal's slumped onto her, his head in her lap, trying his hardest to not curl into a foetal position too obviously. She's stroking his hair, because the way he closed his eyes and sighed when she first rested her hand on his forehead was just a little too heartbreaking, and there's not much else she can do. She stopped asking questions not too long after he started to look dull, hollow, frayed around the edges, but he kept talking. He’s giving her total honesty, right into her hands, and just trusting that she won’t use it against him.
She doesn’t know how he did it.
"So," she says. "Neal Bennett?"
"Yeah."
" I asked if your name was Neal, and it is. You could have just gotten away with a 'Yes'."
"I did say I wouldn't lie." His little whisper almost fades towards the end of that little sentence. She doesn’t know if he can’t speak up or if he won’t.
"I didn't think you'd be this honest."
He looks up at her. That small, worn-out little smile that's seen too much wear lately is on his face again. She hates it a little, even though it’s one of the most real smiles he’s given her.
Abruptly, he sits up and leans against the arm of the sofa. "So. That was my life story-"
"Minus a few pertinent details."
"You’re still an insurance investigator, and the statute of limitation is not up on some of the things I've allegedly done. Besides, it's your turn now."
She sighs softly and turns away. "I think one life story a night is quite enough."
"Come on. Truth for truth."
Damn it. Neal's been too honest. She can't hold back. "I was - am - anorexic. I’m not too sure, but I probably started cutting back on food when Emily ran away. Practically starved myself after Mom and Dad died. I was loaded on to an ambulance twice in college, they told me I nearly died both times. Then Allison – have I ever told you about Allison?”
Neal shakes his head slightly as he pulls her closer, close enough that she can hear his heartbeat.
“You’d like her. She’d hate you, though. Maybe I’ll get you two to meet next time she’s in town.” Sara curls closer to Neal and nudges him so that he wraps both arms firmly around her. “So she decided to save my life, after months of incredibly vapid conversations. I still don’t know why she bothered. I’d be dead if she hadn’t.” She closes her eyes, bites her lip. "I control my job with the exact same obsession that I controlled my diet then. If I stop working, I'll probably go right back."
She chooses that moment to look up at Neal, and regrets it. His eyes are alive with this deep, deep ache that she’s never seen before and never wants to see again. She suddenly feels like a monster, with guilt tearing at her heart. Telling him this is even more cruel than just letting him talk.
She doesn’t speak again.
Neal eventually says, "That sounds like the Cliff's Notes version."
"It is. I could go over it all again, in detail, but it’s a little too heavy for this time of night. And it isn't pretty."
"The past never is. Look at mine."
"Fine. Exactly one week from now, I will answer all the questions you have, and all the ones you don't know to ask, right here, same time."
"One week?"
"Crap. That's when the committee announces their decision, isn't it?"
"I wasn’t expecting you to know the dates that well.”
"Well, given my previous statement, I clearly didn’t."
"Either way, a week from now is fine."
"Are you sure, Neal? It’s a heavy day as it is.”
"Nothing I’d rather do," he declares proudly.
Sara watches him a little too closely as he drains his wine glass, paying less attention to the movement of his throat than to his eyes. “You really are planning on staying.”
“Why is that so surprising?”
“Because it’s you.”
“Ouch,” he deadpans as he sets his glass down.
She carries on watching him. He’s utterly adorable, he fidgets endlessly under what must be a gentle gaze (or maybe it’s harsh, she can’t tell), even swallowing nervously once. And then he pushes himself off the sofa and almost falls forward so he can kiss her, and then she pulls him closer with a hand in his hair that may have been harsher than she intended. And then she’s on her back, and Neal’s trailing hot, wet, messy kisses along her jaw, down her neck, and she hums contentedly. "You’d better not fall asleep in the middle of this,” she says with her eyes still closed.
"Well, now that you mention it, it's a little late..."
"Don't you dare, Caffrey."
-:-
The door to Neal's apartment is just slightly ajar. Sara frowns - Neal's usually very clear. The door’s either open or shut. Never in between.
She pushes the door open with the tips of her fingers and calls out, "Neal?"
He's not there.
They must have decided against the early release, she thinks, before she sees his anklet on the table.
She drops her purse, makes for his cupboards, flings them open till she finds the one with the junk food, finds a ridiculously large packet of greasy potato chips, rips it open and sits on the floor as she eats them one by one, every crunch an act of defiance.
She will not fall back into her old habits over one single stupid boy. She is better than that.
She doesn't even realize she's crying till Peter walks in.
"Sara-"
"I'm fine." She wipes the tears off her face before he can see them, smiles brightly, grabs her purse and makes for the door, keeping the chips as insurance. "I didn't touch the anklet, you should still be able to pull prints, if you need them-"
"We don't. I'll have to ask you a few questions, though. Protocol."
"You know where to find me." Not now.
"I do."
She smiles tightly, nods, and leaves.
That conversation will have to wait.
Characters (Pairings): Sara Ellis, Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke (Sara/Neal)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1040
Spoilers: S03E15 (Stealing Home), S03E16 (Judgment Day).
Warnings: Discussion of an eating disorder.
Disclaimer: White Collar is Jeff Eastin's brainchild. Not mine.
Summary: They're both honest with each other, but it still gets them nowhere.
Author's Note: Originally written for Elr's Promptfest IX, for the prompt Sara: Questions. This has been expanded a little. Episode tag.
Truth is wearying.
By the end of his story, Neal's slumped onto her, his head in her lap, trying his hardest to not curl into a foetal position too obviously. She's stroking his hair, because the way he closed his eyes and sighed when she first rested her hand on his forehead was just a little too heartbreaking, and there's not much else she can do. She stopped asking questions not too long after he started to look dull, hollow, frayed around the edges, but he kept talking. He’s giving her total honesty, right into her hands, and just trusting that she won’t use it against him.
She doesn’t know how he did it.
"So," she says. "Neal Bennett?"
"Yeah."
" I asked if your name was Neal, and it is. You could have just gotten away with a 'Yes'."
"I did say I wouldn't lie." His little whisper almost fades towards the end of that little sentence. She doesn’t know if he can’t speak up or if he won’t.
"I didn't think you'd be this honest."
He looks up at her. That small, worn-out little smile that's seen too much wear lately is on his face again. She hates it a little, even though it’s one of the most real smiles he’s given her.
Abruptly, he sits up and leans against the arm of the sofa. "So. That was my life story-"
"Minus a few pertinent details."
"You’re still an insurance investigator, and the statute of limitation is not up on some of the things I've allegedly done. Besides, it's your turn now."
She sighs softly and turns away. "I think one life story a night is quite enough."
"Come on. Truth for truth."
Damn it. Neal's been too honest. She can't hold back. "I was - am - anorexic. I’m not too sure, but I probably started cutting back on food when Emily ran away. Practically starved myself after Mom and Dad died. I was loaded on to an ambulance twice in college, they told me I nearly died both times. Then Allison – have I ever told you about Allison?”
Neal shakes his head slightly as he pulls her closer, close enough that she can hear his heartbeat.
“You’d like her. She’d hate you, though. Maybe I’ll get you two to meet next time she’s in town.” Sara curls closer to Neal and nudges him so that he wraps both arms firmly around her. “So she decided to save my life, after months of incredibly vapid conversations. I still don’t know why she bothered. I’d be dead if she hadn’t.” She closes her eyes, bites her lip. "I control my job with the exact same obsession that I controlled my diet then. If I stop working, I'll probably go right back."
She chooses that moment to look up at Neal, and regrets it. His eyes are alive with this deep, deep ache that she’s never seen before and never wants to see again. She suddenly feels like a monster, with guilt tearing at her heart. Telling him this is even more cruel than just letting him talk.
She doesn’t speak again.
Neal eventually says, "That sounds like the Cliff's Notes version."
"It is. I could go over it all again, in detail, but it’s a little too heavy for this time of night. And it isn't pretty."
"The past never is. Look at mine."
"Fine. Exactly one week from now, I will answer all the questions you have, and all the ones you don't know to ask, right here, same time."
"One week?"
"Crap. That's when the committee announces their decision, isn't it?"
"I wasn’t expecting you to know the dates that well.”
"Well, given my previous statement, I clearly didn’t."
"Either way, a week from now is fine."
"Are you sure, Neal? It’s a heavy day as it is.”
"Nothing I’d rather do," he declares proudly.
Sara watches him a little too closely as he drains his wine glass, paying less attention to the movement of his throat than to his eyes. “You really are planning on staying.”
“Why is that so surprising?”
“Because it’s you.”
“Ouch,” he deadpans as he sets his glass down.
She carries on watching him. He’s utterly adorable, he fidgets endlessly under what must be a gentle gaze (or maybe it’s harsh, she can’t tell), even swallowing nervously once. And then he pushes himself off the sofa and almost falls forward so he can kiss her, and then she pulls him closer with a hand in his hair that may have been harsher than she intended. And then she’s on her back, and Neal’s trailing hot, wet, messy kisses along her jaw, down her neck, and she hums contentedly. "You’d better not fall asleep in the middle of this,” she says with her eyes still closed.
"Well, now that you mention it, it's a little late..."
"Don't you dare, Caffrey."
-:-
The door to Neal's apartment is just slightly ajar. Sara frowns - Neal's usually very clear. The door’s either open or shut. Never in between.
She pushes the door open with the tips of her fingers and calls out, "Neal?"
He's not there.
They must have decided against the early release, she thinks, before she sees his anklet on the table.
She drops her purse, makes for his cupboards, flings them open till she finds the one with the junk food, finds a ridiculously large packet of greasy potato chips, rips it open and sits on the floor as she eats them one by one, every crunch an act of defiance.
She will not fall back into her old habits over one single stupid boy. She is better than that.
She doesn't even realize she's crying till Peter walks in.
"Sara-"
"I'm fine." She wipes the tears off her face before he can see them, smiles brightly, grabs her purse and makes for the door, keeping the chips as insurance. "I didn't touch the anklet, you should still be able to pull prints, if you need them-"
"We don't. I'll have to ask you a few questions, though. Protocol."
"You know where to find me." Not now.
"I do."
She smiles tightly, nods, and leaves.
That conversation will have to wait.
