Chapter Text
For reasons unexplained, the DoJ had booked out half a floor of the federal building for the hearing, but the room was almost empty: just a security guard at the door, a long table where the three officials were seated and a single chair facing them. It was a beautiful day, unseasonably warm, and the building's air conditioning was no match for the sunlight pouring in the floor-to-ceiling windows.
El sat down, feeling like she was the one on trial.
"State your name for the record, please," said one of the officials.
"Elizabeth Leslie Burke."
"This is a hearing to collect evidence about Neal Caffrey, to determine whether to commute the remainder of his sentence. How do you know Mr. Caffrey?"
"His handler, Peter Burke, is my husband. Neal is also a family friend." It was the line she, Peter and Neal had agreed upon. It chafed, but she could hardly say the three of them had woken up together in Neal's bed that morning, or that after her shower, Neal had grabbed a Sharpie and sketched Picasso's Blue Nude on her thigh for luck.
El studied the people she was addressing: one woman and two men, all wearing polite, neutral expressions. Listening attentively. Formal. They might have preconceptions about Neal, but they weren't invested in the outcome of the hearing; they just wanted to do a good job. It was up to her and Neal's other character witnesses to persuade them to set him free. If they failed—another two years of the anklet, of Neal going home at a so-called reasonable hour. Of being vigilant in public and strategizing in private. They were practiced at it now, they had routines and methods, but it was still a constant source of concern, especially for Peter. The possibility of commutation had been unexpected, a reprieve like divine intervention, and they'd spent the last six weeks on edge, waiting for today. If it didn't turn out well, they'd all be devastated.
El took a deep breath and remembered facing down Diana all those months ago. She could do this. Maybe she'd end up friends with these people too, once the hearing was over. Meet them for coffee.
The woman, who seemed to be the board spokesperson, made a note and then said, "Mr. Caffrey came into this legal system as a criminal. The question before this board today is: has he changed?"
"He's paid his debt," said El. Kate's death, the stigma of conviction, four years of his life in a cell—the losses were unfathomable, even to her, even knowing Neal as well as she did. "And he's changed. There are people who care about him very much, and he wouldn't let them down. I know this."
That wasn't the whole truth: she'd changed too, she and Peter. Their relationship with Neal had transformed all three of them, making them at once more reckless and sneakier, optimistic and guarded, and always fiercely protective of each other. El suppressed a grin. Maybe Peter had been right all those months ago: they had weaponized their marriage.
Sudden optimism struck now, in the large, over-heated room. Certainty that tonight and for the whole weekend—maybe for the rest of her life—she'd have both her boys home with her. Maybe it was time to subject Neal to the labradoodle mafia. She forced her attention back to the hearing and continued, cutting off the spokesperson's next question.
"The only reason Neal's wearing that anklet is because he believed the woman he loved was in trouble. He was right. She was murdered a few months later. His actions were wrong, but they were understandable. And he didn't hurt anyone when he broke out of prison. He didn't even threaten or restrain anyone, or try to evade capture or resist arrest.
"Since he's been working with my husband, he's been a model parolee." It was true as far as the official record went; the confrontation with Fowler and Neal's few misdemeanors had never been reported. "He's helped recover many valuable stolen items, including an entire U-boat of art and treasure stolen by the Nazis, and assisted in the arrest of the notorious criminal, Vincent Adler."
The spokesperson looked unimpressed, but El tried not to take that personally. They already knew about the U-boat and Adler being behind bars. She'd said everything she could.
The spokesperson met her gaze, openly assessing El's own character and her truthfulness. It all hinged on that. El did her best to look like a responsible business woman married to an upstanding FBI agent. Again, it was true—just not the whole truth.
"Should Neal Caffrey be set free?"
"Yes," said El firmly. "He's proven himself, and four years is too long a punishment for his crime. Neal should be free."
"Thank you for your time, Mrs. Burke." The woman smiled slightly, and the man on her right was nodding.
"Thank you." El desperately wanted to ask if she'd done all right, if they'd made up their mind or at least which way they were leaning, but disrupting the process would only undermine her testimony. She stood up and headed for the door.
Outside, Peter and Neal were waiting with June to take her to lunch.
"How did it go?" said June. She'd given her statement right before El.
El bit her lip. "I don't want to jinx it. Let's go eat."
She squeezed both Peter's and Neal's hands, because she could do that, no one would think anything of it. Neal was wearing the signet ring she and Peter had given him, and El could feel hope and optimism flowing between the three of them. Together they could do anything. Whatever happened, it would be all right.
END