Title: Unbreakable
Part: 8/8
Author: angelita26
Rating: PG-13
Characters and/or Pairing: Neal, Diana, Peter, Elizabeth, Christie, June, Mozzie, Jones - Diana/Christie
Spoilers: Minor for Forging Bonds.
Warnings: Unbetaed. Angst. Brief mention of torment and violence.
Word Count: ~4100
Summary: It's a very big day for both Neal and Diana, in two very different ways.

Notes: Written for a prompt at collarkink that can be found at the end of this chapter. This is the last chapter, and I hope you've all enjoyed the ride as much as I have. This story would not have been possible if not for the encouragement from the ladies of wcwu chat. Special thanks to theatregirl7299 and embroiderama for taking a peek and assuring me that this was ready.

Part 1: Day 0/ Month 3
Part 2: Month 7
Part 3: Week 1
Part 4: Week 2 or so
Part 5: Month 1
Part 6: Year 1
Part 7: Month 9

Timestamp #8: Year 2

Peter took a deep breath as he stood in front of Neal's door, juggling a six-pack and a bottle of wine. It was after eleven at night, but tomorrow was going to be a long day. Peter wanted to grab a few minutes with Neal while they had the time. He steeled his nerves, mentally told himself to 'cowboy up' and knocked.

Neal was wearing a pair of drawstring pajama pants and little else besides colorful paint splotches when he pulled the door open. He'd been working on a painting all evening and had just put away his supplies a few minutes ago. There were some finishing touches that would need to be done in the morning, but he was relieved to have finished it before the big day.

“Hey,” Neal greeted with a tired and confused smile. “It's late.” They both paused a moment, remembering a similar scene when they'd been little more than FBI agent and semi-reformed conman trying to crack the case of Vincent Adler. It felt like a lifetime ago, and in many ways, it was.

“I thought it was time that we talked.” Peter moved inside when Neal took a step back to give him access. He handed Neal the wine while setting his beer on the dining table.

“About what?” Neal knew the answer, but he wanted Peter to say it. They'd been dancing around this conversation for the last two years; all previous attempts had failed due to Neal's inability to talk about it, Peter's inability to push Neal, and various work and personal interruptions whenever they'd been almost alone together.

Peter twisted the top off his first bottle and gave Neal one of his patented Burke looks. It said both don't screw with me and I'm only here to help at the same time. “How are you doing?”

“I'm fine, but you know that. You get the reports every month from Dr. Wilson.”

“Maybe I want to hear it from you.”

Neal busied himself with finding the corkscrew that Mozzie liked to put in a different place every time he used it. “You brought me wine with an actual cork. I'm impressed, Peter.”

“It was on sale,” he admitted. “You're not answering my question.”

“I did. I told you that I'm fine, and I am. It's been two years. I'm not having nightmares anymore, I'm off all the drugs, and I've decided to stop my sessions with Wilson.”

Peter watched Neal uncork the bottle of merlot and pour himself a generous glass. “Are you sure that's a good idea?”

Neal took a long drink of the wine. It wasn't the best he'd ever had, but it wasn't the worst either. And he was clearly going to need the fortification to get through this, if Peter's question was anything to go by.

“Neal?”

“I don't think that's any of your business, Peter.” Neal's tone wasn't icy, but it wasn't warm and fuzzy either. He'd always been honest with Peter about when he needed to leave work early for an appointment with his psychiatrist or if he needed a day off, but he didn't volunteer any other information.

Peter pressed his lips together as he tried to figure out what to say that wouldn't be overstepping the boundaries that Neal had set long ago. He briefly wondered what El would do. “I'm concerned about you. There are a lot of big changes happening in your life. I don't know that now is the best time to stop your counseling.”

Neal took several swallows from his glass. “I've got things under control, thanks.”

Peter huffed, annoyed with Neal's attitude and tone. “I'm trying to help you here. Stop being so damn stubborn.”

“I don't need your help, Peter. I haven't for a long time.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I got kidnapped and tortured working with the FBI, with you. I watched Diana go through hell – I went through hell – and you weren't there.”

Peter was startled into nearly dropping his beer bottle. He set it very carefully on the table and squeezed his eyes shut. “You have no idea how many times I prayed to switch places with you, wherever you were, Neal. Every day. Every night.” He opened his eyes and forced himself to look at Neal. “I looked everywhere-”

“Not hard enough.” Neal's eyes were dark with years of bottled-up anger and resentment. He'd talked to Dr. Wilson at length about these feelings, and he'd thought he'd locked them away, but Peter had dragged them right back out again with a few simple words.

“There weren't any clues.” Peter had to turn away. “Your anklet was cut in the alley where you were taken. Traffic cameras lost the van when it crossed over the bridge. Jones and I spent days combing through all the traffic footage in the city and in Jersey. You and Diana were gone.”

Neal pushed himself away from the table and crossed the room to look out the glass panes of the terrace doors. There was pale pink chiffon bunting and rose bouquets gently swaying in the breeze. It was dark, but there was enough light from the apartment to see many of the decorations. Diana had playfully argued about the color scheme and the material and the flowers, but Neal could tell how happy she was, and he was happy for her.

“I am sorry, Neal. So sorry that happened to you and Diana. And I'm sorry that I wasn't able to find you sooner. Some days I thank any god that's listening that we found you at all.”

“No god would have allowed that to happen,” Neal said quietly. He finished his wine and went back to the kitchen table for more.

Peter nodded and dropped into a chair nearby. They were both silent for a few minutes, lost in their own tumultuous thoughts.

Neal concentrated on breathing steadily, in and out, to calm himself. He hadn't been angry at Peter for a long time about the kidnapping, but tonight all those old feelings rushed to the surface when he heard Peter's concerned tone. It was almost the same tone he'd heard in the early days in the hospital and later when he called to ask for the day off to get himself together. He hated that tone but not the man using it.

Finally, Peter grabbed another bottle of beer and opened it while he said, “I should have been there for you when you-”

“You tried. I don't remember a lot about the first couple of days in the hospital, but I remember that you were there and that I begged you to leave. There was too much of everything then. Too many people, too much light, too many sounds. It was all overwhelming.”

Peter could clearly remember how frantic Neal had been amid all of the medical personnel and their groping hands and instruments and machines. All he'd wanted was to keep Diana in his sights, which was difficult with their injuries and physical conditions. Peter had tried to stick close to Neal, hoping that his presence would be calming and reassuring, but Neal's agitation only grew the more he was separated from Diana. Peter had never felt more useless in his life.

“I blamed you. I guess I still do in some ways. But I blame myself too, and the Bureau.”

Frowning, Peter leaned forward in his chair. “Why would you blame yourself?”

Neal shrugged. “I couldn't get us out. We tried to escape.” He unconsciously rubbed at his side, where his kidney had been damaged. “It didn't go well. Either time.”

“That wasn't your fault. I should have been there. I should have found you.”

Neal suddenly remembered cowering on a small cot with Diana when the door to their cell swung open and Peter and Jones were there, surrounded by the bright light of the hallway. He'd thought it was a dream until they'd stepped forward; a tentative rush of relief had swept over him, even as his body cowered away. “You did.”

Peter reached for another bottle of beer as he too recalled that day. He'd been so horrified at the conditions of the room and his people that he hadn't been able to move for a moment. When he had walked closer, Neal and Diana had both flinched away and clung to each other. It was an image that he carried with him every day.

After finishing off his second glass of wine, Neal poured a third and quietly quoted, “Survival is triumph enough.”

The Grandfather clock in the hallway started to chime the midnight hour, and they both started at the sudden noise. Then, Peter pointed towards Neal's anklet. “Are you ready for this?”

“Now?” Neal pulled up the hem of his pajama pants to see that there was no longer a green light illuminated on his ankle. This was it. His four years were up, and his two miles were expanding to the whole world.

Peter cleared his throat softly and held up the key. Neal moved his foot onto one of the dining chairs, and Peter removed the device for the last time. He'd done this a hundred times before, but the tracker had never felt so heavy in his hands.

Neal hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until he almost choked on the rushed exhale.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I'm... Yes.”

“I didn't come over here tonight to fight, Neal. I never intended for us to rehash a lot of things that I'm sure you've talked with your doctor about, but I'm glad that we cleared the air.” Neal nodded and Peter rushed on before he could interrupt. “For what it's worth, I'm proud of the man that you've become.”

Neal didn't know what to say except, “Thank you, Peter.” He held out his hand but wasn't surprised when Peter pulled him into a hug and slapped him on the back.

Peter felt Neal tense at the contact, but after a moment, his partner's arms embraced him too. He was taken back, for a moment, to a similar hug on a faraway island and his own breath stuttered. So much had changed since then. They held for a beat and then stepped back.

“I should let you get some sleep. Tomorrow will be here before you know it.”

“I never thought I'd see the day that Diana settled down.”

“I don't think she's settling. Just finally allowing herself to be happy.”

Neal nodded and led the way to the door. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“We'll be here,” Peter confirmed, and then he was out the door and heading down the stairs with the anklet dangling loosely from his fingers.

Neal shut the door and leaned against it for a minute. He was exhausted after all the preparations for Diana's wedding, his frantic painting session, and the talk with Peter. Then he remembered the anklet and looked down at his bare ankle. He was finally free.

------

The sun was shining and a breeze teased Christie's hair as she and Diana shared their vows about love, strength and second chances in front of their closest friends and families. Neal had walked Diana down the aisle, their hands clasped tightly together until they reached the end, where he gave her a kiss on the cheek, whispered a few words in her ear, and stepped to the side.

June had graciously offered her home as the site of the ceremony and the reception, and Neal had insisted on using his apartment for both. Elizabeth's team had come in and moved most of the furniture out that morning; his bed had been screened off to keep party-goers from wandering back there, prompting Neal to offer it up to Diana and Christie as a joke.

Neal had worked the crowd as only he could, spending a little time getting to know Christie's friends and family, whom he hadn't met before. There was a pretty brunette doctor named Lucy that he noticed Christie was particularly diligent about introducing him to, but he wasn't sure how he felt about being set up.

When he spotted Diana slip quietly past the screens into his bedroom, he poured two flutes of champagne and followed her. “Hey,” he said softly to get her attention. “Is this a private party?”

She rolled her eyes and motioned for him to sit beside her on the bed. Very few things were private between them. He knew her deepest fears and regrets just as she knew his.

“Are you okay?” He passed a glass over to her and put his free arm around her shoulders.

Diana laid her head against his shoulder and nodded against the smooth fabric of his suit jacket. “It's all a little overwhelming.”

“Yeah, but you and Christie have the honeymoon to look forward to now. Where did you say you were going?”

She snorted. He'd been playing this game with her for days, but she and Christie honestly hadn't decided on a destination yet. Diana had pitched a last minute, spontaneous decision so that she could be sure Neal was okay before she left the city, if she left the city. “We didn't.”

“You know I can find out.”

“We should have at least one secret, Neal.”

“This is the worst secret, Di. By the end of next week, you'll come back with pictures and a little sunburn on the tip of your nose, and everyone will know where you were.”

“Who said anything about sun?”

“Frostbite, then.”

She chuckled and raised her head so that she could drink some of the champagne. “You don't go on a honeymoon to be outside. I don't really plan on leaving the hotel suite.”

Neal choked at the unexpected honesty, and she pounded him on the back.

When he calmed, she switched to rubbing small circles across his shoulder blades. “Thank you for letting us have the wedding here.”

He still had a hard time going more than a few steps out onto the terrace, but he'd wanted Diana's day to be special. His terrace was one of the best spots in the city to get married, in his humble opinion. “I'm so happy for you two,” he replied and lifted his glass. “I wish you the happiest of futures.”

She clinked their glasses and smiled at him. “And I to you. I didn't forget what today is for you either.” She hadn't intentionally chosen Neal's final day on the anklet as her wedding day, but she had been pleasantly surprised at the coincidence.

He grinned and lifted his pants leg to show her his bare ankle.

Her eyes widened. “When?”

“Last night. Peter came over, and we talked for a little while.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“You've been a little busy.”

“Not too busy for this. Neal, this is huge. You're a free man.”

He nodded, not sure how to respond to that. It was true. New York was his home, but he had the whole world to explore again and much of it had changed over the last eight or so years.

“What are you going to do? Where are you going to go?” She had a million questions. This was one thing they had rarely talked about. It was as if Neal hadn't wanted to jinx it; he'd neatly redirected any conversation she'd tried to start about it.

“The Bureau offered me an official consultant position. Peter basically created a job for me and got Bancroft to sign off on it.”

Diana's eyes lit up with excitement. “That's great. I was hoping they'd work something out.” Several months ago, Peter had been promoted to Assistant Director, and Jones had taken over the Special Agent In Charge position. Since then, Peter had been putting together a proposal to make sure that Neal would be able to continue working at the FBI after his sentence was completed.

Neal grinned. “Peter mentioned that you'd written a recommendation letter on my behalf.”

“Like that's a surprise.” She rocked her shoulder into his and drank the rest of her bubbly. “Where are you jetting off to first?”

He finished off his drink too and shrugged. “I'm starting with Paris, and then we'll see. Peter's only giving me one week of vacation, so I have to plan wisely.”

She laughed. “Eight years ago, I bet you never thought you'd ever say that or have to plan out vacations around a work schedule.”

“No, I did not. I've got to be honest; I don't really like it.”

“But?”

His eyes darted to the screen that separated them from their friends. “It's worth it. I've found a home here, and I have good friends.” He pulled her closer with the arm that was still around her shoulders, and they both turned to make it a full-fledged hug.

“There you two are.” Christie's head popped around the side of the screen, and she smiled at them. “Elizabeth thinks we should cut the cake now. Unless you guys need a minute.”

“No,” Neal replied, standing up and holding out a hand to Diana. “We're coming. Sorry for stealing her away, Christie.”

Diana scoffed at the obvious lie but let Neal lead her back out to her guests. He let go of her hand and melted into the small crowd Elizabeth had gathered around the cake.

------

Hours later, the sun had set over the city while the remaining guests sat around the largest dining table with their beer or wine. Neal had taken over the role of host and was refilling wine glasses while Jones made everyone laugh with a story about his German Shepherd, Kali, following a Labradoodle around the dog park yesterday like they were on a date.

When he was finished and the laughter had died down, June cleared her throat and moved over to Diana and Christie. “It was beautiful ceremony. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness with each other.” She gave each woman a kiss on the cheek and stopped by Neal's chair long enough to pat his shoulder. “Good night everyone.”

“Wait a minute.” Peter's voice stopped her in her tracks. He stood and handed her the half-full glass of champagne she'd been drinking before. “There's one more toast to make tonight.”

Neal's cheeks colored. He sat up straighter and opened his mouth to protest but Peter cut him off with a look.

Everyone knew where this was going and raised their glasses with smiles and a wink or two in Neal's direction.

“Eleven years ago, a case landed on my desk. It wasn't the most interesting of cases right off the bat, but the forger was clearly talented.” Neal grinned at that. “I could have done without the three year chase, and all the headaches and heart attacks between then and now, but the end result... Neal, I'm proud to have you as a friend and a colleague. On the right side of the law.”

Mozzie coughed at the last part, but Diana laughed and called out, “Hear, hear.”

Glasses and beer bottles clinked all around as Neal beamed. The praise was as good as he was going to get from Peter in public, and it felt good to hear it while in the company of their closest friends and co-workers.

“Does this mean what I think it means?” June asked, looking down at Neal's ankle, which was covered by his suit pants.

Neal nodded and lifted the hem. “As of midnight, I no longer have 24 hour surveillance on my every move.”

“Is your cell phone on?” Mozzie asked, pointing to Neal's chest, where he'd tucked his iPhone into the inner pocket a little while ago after taking a picture of Diana and Christie on the dance floor.

Everyone laughed, and June gave Neal a hug before making her way out of the apartment. She paused long enough to drop the needle on the record player set up by the door, and Louis Armstrong started singing about trees of green and red roses too.

Neal stood and held out his hand toward Diana. “Would you care to dance? If Christie doesn't mind.”

“No, no. Take her away,” Christie said, pushing Diana out of her chair. She loved to watch her wife – her wife - dance, especially with Neal. Her lips curled up at the thought of having a wife, of having Diana by her side for the rest of their lives. It was an amazing, exciting feeling.

It only took a moment for Jones to step over to Christie's chair. “May I?”

She nodded and let him pull her up and spin her toward the cleared space where Neal and Diana were giggling and swaying in time with the music.

Peter and Elizabeth were right behind them while Mozzie took the wine bottle and his glass and went out onto the terrace. He was glad to see Neal smiling and happy, but he was not, under any circumstances, going to dance in front of anyone.

“You should try the Greek islands for your honeymoon,” Neal spoke into Diana's ear. “I can make you a reservation.”

She pulled away so that she could look into his eyes. “Are you trying to get me out of town for some reason?”

“I just want you to have a good time. I will be fine. Mozzie's going to tour the better European museums with me for a few days.”

“That's... concerning.” She was mostly teasing, but there would always be a part of her that was worried about what Mozzie could drag Neal back into, if given half a chance.

He gave her his best innocent smile. “There will be no forging of the art, I promise.”

“What's this about forging?” Peter asked as he danced Elizabeth closer. He hadn't been intentionally listening in, but he'd heard Neal nonetheless.

“Nothing, nothing. Mozzie and I are going to take the next week and visit some museums.”

“Visit?”

“As tourists.” Neal spoke the words loudly and clearly so that there wouldn't be any misunderstandings.

Elizabeth laughed and pulled away from Peter to reach out to Neal. “Let's switch.”

Peter blinked and Diana was suddenly in his arms while Neal spun Elizabeth away from them.

“Peter told me that you took the job. He's very happy about that.” Elizabeth had been concerned that Neal would choose a different path, but she too was pleased about his decision.

Neal nodded. “I'm thinking about going to school too, but I didn't see any reason to turn down the offer. Peter and Jones are good bosses and being a recently released felon would be a little more troubling in most other offices.”

Before Elizabeth could reply, Christie tapped on her shoulder. “My turn!” she said, when Elizabeth shifted to look over her shoulder. Christie took Neal's hand and pulled him into her arms.

“How much have you had to drink?” he asked, surprised by her forwardness.

“I have no idea,” she replied. “It's my wedding day.”

“I know,” he laughed. “It was a great ceremony.”

She leaned closer and said, sincerely, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Diana. I know how hard it must have been for you to share her over these last couple of years.”

“I never looked at it like that. You two have always been meant-to-be. Diana and I are just...” he trailed off with a shrug, unable to put their relationship into words. “She's your wife now, Christie, and I would never-”

“That's not what I meant. You and Diana will always be close, and I wouldn't take that away from either of you.”

“So you're okay with sharing her with me every now and then?” He said with a twinkle in his eye that not even a drunken Christie could miss.

She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck when she stumbled. “You're a good man, Neal. Thank you for taking such good care of my wife.”

He blushed and nodded as the song faded. Diana moved over to them and threw her arms around both of them while Elizabeth and Peter moved back to the table to retrieve her wine and his beer. It was getting late, but everyone was having such a good time. One more drink wouldn't hurt.

And I think to myself .....what a wonderful world
Yes I think to myself .......what a wonderful world.
~ What a Wonderful World, Louis Armstrong

~Finis

Thank you for reading!

Note: The quote "Survival is triumph enough is by Harry Crews.

Also posted at AO3

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.