Chapter Text
Everything went wrong when Neal came to the FBI.
Everything was better when Neal was at the FBI.
Peter had a sterling reputation, an excellent close and conviction rate, and he did amazing. And then Neal came, and everything was ruined.
His world sparked into life when Neal arrived, somehow.
The cases were harder, there were more closer calls, and Peter knew that there had to be a reason for it, but never, in a million years, did he expect that the answer was something as ridiculous as "my new CI is a vigilante from a family of vigilantes, who all have no respect for the law or common decency."
It shouldn't have been a surprise when Neal turned out to be Dick turned out to be Nightwing.
Thank god the CI he was pining for was never truly a criminal, nor truly imprisoned.
That last case, the one with Birdie's obvious forgeries and the way in which they had to clear out the FBI offices and all of it, felt like waking up. Peter finally realized exactly what was wrong, why everything was so difficult. The reason for his job being threatened so much. The reason for his life being threatened so much. It was like his eyes were being opened to one simple fact.
He couldn't wake up; please wake him up from this nightmare.
Dick was the reason for why everything was wrong. Birdie was the reason, too. He needed to bring them to justice, if only so that the Justice League realized that they couldn't meddle with the lives of everyday folks. They did everything they could. They didn't have to cheat by putting on a mask, or by using magical powers, or anything like that. Peter brought plenty of people to justice through the use of facts, and clues, and investigation. His intelligence. Not through sheer luck and punching power.
Maybe, if the Justice League found him, they could wake him up.
Elizabeth was the first option. She would understand, and she'd be able to help him figure out how to bring Dick to justice. He knew that she was soft on him, but she would understand. Sure, he arrived in a flurry of nerves and anxiety, having nearly been caught after almost attacking Birdie, but it would be fine.
"Hon, you know that Neal's been trying to do good—"
"Dick. His name is actually Dick. Like some sort of goon from a bad mystery novel." Peter paced back and forth, trying to ignore the anxious whines from Satchmo as the dog cowered from Peter's frenzy.
"Alright, hon. Dick, then. You know he's only ever tried to do right. And he's especially been trying since Kate died. He only left because you told him to, after all, and he's always tried to support you as much as he can." Elizabeth frowned as she looked at Peter before walking over and gently putting a hand on his shoulder. "What's this about, really? You were never this against him, even before you put him in prison."
Peter shoved Elizabeth off of his shoulder. It was a sharp movement, but it was enough to momentarily bring him back to himself as Elizabeth gave a bit of a startled cry as she stumbled into the table. "Oh, god, El, I'm so sorry. But you have to understand. I didn't even catch him. He just let it happen. Apparently, he didn't even spend his entire sentence in prison. You wouldn't defend him if you knew what kind of monster he was."
Elizabeth's eyes were wide, and Peter didn't know why there was the edge of nausea in his stomach at the way she was looking at him. She was his El, his hon, his world. Why did she look scared?
"Alright, Peter, hon. Why don't you sit down? We'll figure this out."
"I'm not going to sit down."
"Let me get you some tea, then?"
The phone rang, shrill and grating, and Peter couldn't help the full-body wince as Elizabeth quickly walked over and picked it up.
"Hey, Diana," she said, her voice as light and careful as it could be while in the middle of this conversation. "You—what? What happened? I—I'll let you know if I see him."
Peter took a shaking breath, staring at the table as he gripped the back of the chair tighter. "That was Diana?"
"Peter…Hon, what did you do?"
Of course Elizabeth didn't understand. Dick and Mozzie and Birdie had twisted her from the beautiful, perfect woman that she had always been. She wasn't his pillar of support anymore. She was a traitor. She was just as much a criminal as Dick and Mozzie, and it was only as a testament to his love for her that he wouldn't reveal that he knew she had impersonated an FBI agent at times, or had facilitated identity fraud, or any number of other things that he had let slide since Dick had come into their lives and began to drag them down like an anchor into the depths of depravity.
What was he thinking? Why was he thinking this? Why wasn't anything right? He didn't care about any of that. He just wanted this waking nightmare to end. Why couldn't he wake up?
Peter turned away from Elizabeth, taking a deep breath. "I'm making things right. Fixing things," he said before opening up the hall closet and dragging out the box. All of the various things from his time chasing the Caffrey ghost, including that damn wine bottle that had ended up back in his possession after Dick had ran from Kramer.
If only Dick had just stayed. Everything would have been fine. He could have helped to reduce the sentence under Kramer, found a way to get him back to New York, it would have been fine.
It wouldn't have been fine! What was he thinking? Why was he leaving Elizabeth and walking out the door? Why did he feel like he needed to take the evidence of Caffrey's existence with him?
"It's good to see you, Peter."
Peter nodded, a twist of an expression on his face that seemed passable as a smile, though it didn't quite feel right on his face. "It's good to see you, too. I'm sorry about everything that happened. I should have realized that you were just looking out for me."
Where was he? When did he get here? Why was he here?
"I'm just glad that you saw reason, even if it took entirely too long. You said that your CI did something you can't overlook? Something that Hughes isn't helping you with?"
Peter nodded again as he settled down across from his old mentor. "He has. He's been teaching a kid forgery. I've seen the kid's work, it's impeccable, and clearly the same line of training as Caffrey. Not only that, but they're sending works to the mob."
"And Hughes isn't letting you go after them."
"No." Peter grimaced as he looked out the window. "I was hoping you could help me. I should have listened to you from the beginning, and I'm sorry that I didn't."
This was a nightmare. Peter was in a nightmare, and he couldn't get himself to stop talking.
Kramer nodded, pacing back and forth behind his desk before looking back at Peter. "Let's start from the beginning. See what we can figure out."
Peter nodded, shifting in his seat. "The kid's name is—"
A chime sounded from Kramer's computer, and the man turned with a frown. Peter frowned as he looked at it. It wasn't even eight in the morning. There shouldn't be any messages or alerts right now. There shouldn't even be any other agents in the building right now. Peter had specifically arrived here so early, taking the overnight train, in order to get here before anyone else could get out here.
"Peter, can you explain why I'm getting an alert about you?"
Peter stood up. "I'll figure it out myself."
"Petey, please, let me help you."
Please help, please help, Kramer, please help.
Peter stood up, glancing around before looking back at him. "Are you going to help me bring Caffrey to justice? And their little friend?"
"Petey, you know this isn't like you." Kramer walked around his desk, holding a hand out to Peter. "Something's happened to you. You look exhausted, let me just get you to a place to rest."
Yes!
"No." Peter practically growled the word as he pulled away. He couldn't believe this. Kramer, the man who had molded him and shaped him into the agent he was, who had chased Caffrey off a tram roof, wasn't going to help him. He was going to work with Caffrey, was going to make all of this so much worse, and no one would realize just how awful the Justice League actually was.
Peter ran, pushing past Kramer and out of the office. He'd have to figure this out on his own.
Good thing he had been learning just as much from Dick as Dick had been learning from him.
The most important thing of any break-in was to remain unseen by the cameras. That was one of the first lessons Peter had learned about breaking in anywhere.
The next thing that Peter learned was that the best entry points into any building were either the roof or the basement.
Luckily, the Justice League was just as prone to such an amateur mistake as any bank that Caffrey had consulted on.
Peter slipped in through the basement, keeping his head down and wearing the nondescript uniform that marked so many janitors in the world. The sewers led into the basement, and then into the wider building where he was able to track down the server room. The cameras were bypassed as he kept his head down, or by opening up a trash bag between him and the camera as much as he could.
He wasn't under any illusion that this would work forever. He just needed it to last long enough for him to access the computer files, and then get out.
He needed them to see through it sooner. He didn't even know why he was here.
The computers were easy enough to access, strangely. Peter would have thought a bunch of superheroes would have tried to keep it hidden better.
Unfortunately, Peter couldn't find anything about Dick, or Birdie.
Keep searching, keep wasting time, it'll be fine.
Peter stood up, and walked out the way he came.
Peter was a prisoner, and no one was finding him. He learned from the best, apparently, and it took three years for him to find the best.
Peter was running on fumes, but it didn't matter. He had another path. It wouldn't be much ammo against tracking down and prosecuting Birdie with anything, but it would prove that Dick was Nightwing, and hopefully that would bring the entire damn Gotham Aviary down with him. He could go through the Titans Tower. They were bound to have files on previous members, and the Titans were mostly a defunct team, meaning that he'd have more time to track down those files, too.
It was a perfect plan.
Another chance to wake up. Please, wake up.
It took longer to plan this infiltration, in part due to the way that he had no true idea of how to get on the island, get inside, and track down the server room.
Thank god, more time for Dick to find him.
Luckily, apparently, the seals had decided to help him. The Tower's perimeter lights shut down for nearly thirty minutes before kicking back on for another fifteen, and then turning off for another thirty minutes after that.
Peter grinned.
When it happened a second time, a couple of days later, Peter knew that was his way on. All he had to do was wait for another set of seals.
Excellent, that was unlikely to happen. Someone would find him. Dick always found him. He'd be found and—
The opportunity came that night.
The infiltration, once Peter managed to get the motorboat on the island, was easy, and quick, and the files were laughably easy to find once Peter found the computer terminal. In, collect the files, and shove the hard drive back into the—
Peter stared at the wine bottle that he had entirely forgotten putting into the backpack. The wine bottle from Kate, that Caffrey had given to him, that had kicked everything off.
Why had he brought that with him?
Time slowed to a crawl. He knew that he needed to leave, that he had only a few more minutes before he needed to leave, but he couldn't help but stare at the bottle before his hands reached out to grab it, pulling it out without him thinking.
Turn, just turn, then the bottle will be in the security camera's frame.
Peter turned, letting the light illuminate the bottle better before frowning and shoving it back into the bag with everything else. That apartment would be a good place to stay while he figured out where next to go and what to do.
Thank god, Dick would be able to find him, then.
The apartment was still abandoned, thankfully. It helped that it wasn't actually an apartment, but an office space that had been purchased by one of Caffrey's aliases ages back, passed through several shell LLCs that Caffrey had created, and was most likely under Mozzie's control.
It didn't really matter, though. What mattered was that it still had power, still had water, and Peter could hunker down with the laptop to sift through the files in order to find the most damning evidence against Dick. He needed it to be air-tight. He needed to show proof that the League knew the damage they caused but didn't care so long as it was a way to get the results they wanted. If he just found something, some sign of their guilt, it would drag the entire complex down. No one would trust them. No more cops would be dragged into this situation that he had been, where their entire career would be proven to be a sham. It wouldn't happen again, and Peter could rest easy at night knowing that this wasn't his fault.
It wasn't his fault, no, but he still needed to wake up
The minutes filtering through the files turned into hours, and then Peter frowned as he had to keep getting up to turn on and turn off the lights. It was annoying, but he was almost there. He could feel himself getting close.
He could feel his body threatening to shut down after days on the move without a break.
"Peter."
Peter froze at the sound of the voice. It wasn't possible. It wasn't possible.
"Peter, put the knife down."
When had he picked up a knife? Why would he try to use a knife?
He left his gun at Elizabeth's. He hadn't had a gun in weeks. When had he picked up a knife?
"How did you find me?" Peter asked, his voice low as he forced himself to set the knife down on the counter before turning to look at Caffrey. Dick. His best friend. His worst enemy.
"You had the wine bottle. I figured you were using it as a taunt."
"Why would I do that?" Peter frowned, shaking his head as he looked at him. "I'm trying to destroy you. I wouldn't taunt you. You need to get dragged down. You stupid—"
"Peter, take a breath. Let's sit down. Talk about this. We always talked." Dick was quiet as he took a few steps towards him, hands outstretched and empty.
Peter could…he could sit. Peter took a shaking breath as he sat down on the floor. It felt more like collapsing, more like something was crumbling inside of him now that Dick was here. Dick, with his piercing blue eyes, and dark curls, and the soothing voice that he had heard constantly for years now. He had been around Dick almost more than Elizabeth over the past few years, particularly once he had warmed up and started inviting Dick over to his house for dinner.
Dick had always been there. A quiet presence with a cocky grin and stupid hat, and Elizabeth adored him, and Peter had found himself warming up and coming to life more than he had for years. He had been going through the motions more than anything else after locking away Caffrey. Meeting Caffrey, meeting Dick had been like waking up.
He was waking up.
"You have to help people," Peter whispered, not sure why it felt like the world was spinning, considering he was sitting still.
"I'm here to help you, Peter. Not anyone else."
Dick walked over to Peter, putting a hand on his shoulder.
That was the wrong movement. That was the wrong thing to do.
Peter shouted, pushing back against Dick and wrapping his hands around the man's throat. Dick was supposed to help others, the people that needed him. Peter didn't need him! Peter was trying to make sure that the Justice League realized that they weren't helping people anymore with these undercover operations. He was supposed to help keep everyone else from getting hurt.
[He needed to wake up. He needed to move his hands. He shifted his thumbs from pressing against Dick's windpipe, and loosened his grip.
Dick took an opening, his blue eyes wide with surprise, but he didn't let the opening go to waste.
Peter was out like a light before he realized that Dick had injected him with something.