Word Count: 20,853 Rating:
PG13. Category:
AU. Angst. H/C. Friendship. Crossover of sorts with SGA (see notes below). Story Status:
Complete. Summary: Neal's been
running from his past for a long time. So when an old friend turns up
unexpectedly and Peter starts putting the pieces together, Neal is
worried where it will lead.
SGA Fans:
The fic is an AU set in the White Collar world. There is no Stargate or
aliens or Atlantis. Rodney McKay is the only character from SGA that
appears in this fic and I have taken a few liberties with his
canon-established background to fit him into this world. Spoilers exist
for his first name (S3, McKay and Mrs Miller).
WC fans: The fic is an
AU set sometime after the S2 episode 'Countermeasures', with the
proviso that the episode 'What Happens in Burma' did not happen. This
is because I have taken many liberties with Neal's background! Also,
the Haustenburg stolen in this story is not the one from 'The
Portrait', but one owned by a museum.
General Notes: I'm
ignoring the age of the actors. In 2010, when this fic is set, Neal is
28 and Rodney is 32. Also, due to in depth research having killed my
enthusiasm to write in the past, I have not researched all areas of the
law that are referred to in this fic, hence inaccuracies will most
likely exist. This is probably also the case for other areas too,
apologies for this.
Thanks: Thank you to
Jayne Perry for encouragement and betaing, plus writing a few
sentences/paragraphs here and there and part of a scene that I expanded
(she doesn't want credit for this, but credit has been given). Thank
you also to Sholio for her advice early on in the fic writing regarding
the pros and cons of crossover fics. And thank you
to frith_in_thorns for further betaing.
Peter sat in the van, his brow creased in worry. A simple case had
become complicated, placing Neal into more danger than he was happy
with. They were investigating an art forger and his fence who worked
together to steal paintings and then sell forgeries to several people.
No one was sure what happened to the originals, but Peter suspected
they were being passed onto another collector. They had yet to find any
evidence for this though, hence sending Neal in as Nick Delaney, a
buyer for a recently stolen Haustenburg. He was to pay cash for the
forgery and then confront Jake Price, the fence, with the fact that it
was a forgery and ask to be cut in on the deal. Nick Delaney's
background strongly suggested mob ties, and they were hoping this would
be enough to persuade Price to cut Neal in on the deal rather than take
him out of the picture altogether.
Of course, there was always the chance that Price wasn't concerned
about upsetting the mob, and so Peter had a team ready to move in on
the warehouse if the situation went south.
"You have the money, Mr Delaney?" Peter heard Price say over Neal's wire.
"All $500,000 of it. You have the painting?"
"Of course. My associate here will check that the money is all there.
Nothing personal, you understand, just business." Price's voice was
smooth and controlled.
"Sure."
There was a few tense moments before Price spoke again.
"Thank you, Mr Delaney. Here is the Haustenburg. As you can see, it is one of his more interesting paintings."
"Yeah," Neal said, and Peter could picture him carefully scrutinising the painting.
"There a problem, Mr Delaney?" Price asked, a dark edge entering his tone as, presumably, Neal continued his appraisal.
"Actually yes, there is," Neal replied. "This is a forgery. You trying to scam me, Price?"
"I can assure you that the painting is real."
"I can assure you that it's not. And you know it."
Just then, a new voice entered the discussion, sounding like the person was approaching from the back of the warehouse.
"I told you the forgeries were terrible, Price. Anyone with a decent
eye can see that. You really need to find yourself a better forger."
"Stay out of this, McKay," Price snarled.
"Huh, right. By the way, are you seriously about to shoot a guy who
runs with the mob? I really am working with an idiot, aren't I? Make a
deal instead - unless you want his friends to track you down? I hear
cement boots are still all the rage in mobland!"
"You should listen to him," Neal said, tense but calm. "I'm happy to
make a deal. You give me my money back and let me in on the scam, and
no one needs to get hurt."
"No," Price said adamantly, his voice low and dangerous. "The mob is not getting their hands on my operation!"
Peter had heard enough. If Price wasn't concerned about the mob, then
this was about to go badly for Neal. He ordered the team outside the
warehouse to go in and ran from the van, with Jones and Diana hot on
his heels.
------
Neal had known there was a strong possibility Price wouldn't go for the
deal and that he would need to buy time, but he hadn't expected Rodney
McKay to suddenly appear from out of the warehouse shadows. He
hadn't seen Rodney for years and had no idea he was back in New York.
"Look, we can come to an agreement," Neal said smoothly, putting on his
most charming smile. "Give me my money and I'll leave. No hard
feelings."
"No, you'll just come back with your mob friends." Price raised his gun.
"Hey, I didn't sign up for this," Rodney said, putting himself in front of Neal.
"Rodney," Neal hissed, but, as was often the case in the past, Rodney ignored him.
"Violence is never the answer. Only idiots and morons think that it is!"
"Get out of the way, McKay or I'll shoot you too. I'm getting tired of
that mouth of yours anyway," Price growled, using the gun to motion him
away.
"FBI, drop your weapons!" The shout echoed around the warehouse and
Peter's voice had never sounded so sweet. Once again Neal was grateful
that he had such good backup, even if it was the FBI.
Fortunately, Price and his goon proved smart enough to realise they
were outgunned and soon surrendered. Seeing that everything was in
hand, Neal turned to Rodney, who was starting to look pretty shaken.
"Boy, Neal, your Fed friends took their time getting in here," Rodney
said sarcastically. "Don't they care if their CI gets shot?"
"It's not like that," Neal protested, as an FBI agent, one Neal didn't
know, approached Rodney with handcuffs and in return received a full
blown patent-pending Rodney McKay glare, causing the agent to pause for
a moment before continuing to approach. Neal was amused - not that he
could blame the agent for pausing, he'd been on the wrong end of
Rodney's glares enough times to know how intense they could be.
"Peter, please tell your agent not to cuff my friend," Neal called out.
"Your friend, eh?" Peter said as he moved over to them and gestured the
agent away. "Sounded to me like he's involved in all of this."
"I freely surrender," Rodney said. "No need for cuffs or any of that
unpleasantness. I have a lot of information to trade - about Price and
his poor excuse of a forger, Davison." Rodney huffed and looked at
Neal. "Really, how Davison gets away with calling himself a forger I
can't explain. It's an insult to your profession."
"Alleged profession," Neal calmly corrected, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.
"Yeah, right, whatever." Rodney turned his attention back to Peter. "I
have paperwork that Price wanted destroyed that didn't quite make it to
the shredder. Plus copies of deleted emails and files." Rodney shook
his head, continuing in a scathing tone. "They thought that deleting
files and emails was enough to make them go away. Can you believe that?
Davison didn't even empty his Recycle Bin! At least Price knew to do
that - not that it stopped me, of course. Amateurs! Even a
kindergartener could have done better!"
"You haven't changed." Neal grinned and patted Rodney on the shoulder. "Still the same old Rodney."
"Yes, well, I have a lot of information to give about these two and
their operation, plus the person they're sending the originals to.
There must be a deal to be had here - preferably one that doesn't
involve jail time."
"I can't guarantee that," Peter said honestly.
"Yes, but I know you do make deals. Only got to look at Anklet Boy here to know that."
"Anklet boy?" Neal said incredulously. "That's the best you can do? You're slipping, Rodney."
"Oh, give me a break! I just wandered into a supposedly straight
forward exchange to find a friend in danger of a bullet to the brain!
And bringing in lots of Feds with him too!" Rodney rolled his eyes,
turning to berate Neal. "You honestly thought a fake mob background was
going to protect you, along with that infamous silver tongue of yours?
Wait, what am I thinking - of course you did!" Rodney threw his hands
up in despair. "Of all the harebrained, moronic schemes... You know, I
hate to tell you this, but you are not invincible!"
"Good to know you care," Neal said with a grin, knowing that Rodney's
biting words merely showed just how scared he'd been for Neal.
"Yes, well..." Rodney sighed. "I guess we should get this over with."
"Want me to call your lawyer?" Neal asked, suddenly looking thoughtful. "Does he know you're in town?"
"No."
"Oh, he's going to be pissed." And not just because he was back in town
and hadn't told him. Mozzie was still pissed at Rodney's disappearance
in the first place. Neal wasn't too happy about it either, though he'd
understood the reasons. Even better now than at the time.
"Yes, yes, I can handle the little guy," snapped Rodney.
"Mozzie." Peter grimaced. "Of course, who else?"
"He knows Moz?" Rodney asked Neal, surprised.
"Yeah, he knows Moz."
"Hmm. Well, don't call him in yet. I've got a feeling that I'll get the deal I want."
"You seem very sure of yourself," Peter said.
"Well, seeing as I'm about to give you enough dirt on Thomas Newman to
put him away for life, I believe I have every right to feel confident.
I think that deserves immunity, don't you?" Rodney looked smug and sure of himself.
"That..." Peter paused a moment. "That might be worth immunity. If your evidence is enough to get a conviction."
Thomas Newman was number five on the FBI's most wanted list, Neal knew.
Newman was also the reason why Rodney pulled a disappearing act on them
a few years back.
"You went after him - on your own?" Neal was pleased to see Rodney
flinch and look uncomfortable at his annoyed tone - and, okay, maybe he
was more pissed than he had thought.
"You were in prison..."
"And as Mozzie pointed out to me, you already had your disappearance planned weeks before I was caught."
"I didn't want you involved, okay?" Rodney answered defensively. "Newman is dangerous..."
"Which is exactly why Moz and I told you not to do this on your own," Neal pointed out angrily. "You should have trusted us to help."
"Hold on," Peter interrupted them. "You knew your friend here was after Newman?"
"Long story," Neal replied with a sigh, the anger draining out of him
suddenly. "I had no idea Price was linked to Newman, and certainly no
idea that Rodney was back in New York, let alone here."
"Sounds like an interesting story." Peter was giving Neal that look,
which basically meant he was going to do his best to pry it out of
them. Not that it bothered Neal too much, telling him about Newman and
Rodney was inevitable really. He just hoped Peter didn't dig any
further into things. Rodney knew his original name, and that was something he definitely didn't want Peter to find out.
"Newman murdered my family," Rodney said quietly. "So I've spent the
last five years trying to get close enough to gather dirt on him. It's
taken a long time as Newman is really careful, but Price was my way in
at last. He needed a hacker, I made myself available and was able to
hack Newman. You're going to love what I have on him. So long as I get
the deal that I want."
"Let's take this back to the office," Peter said, and it wasn't a suggestion.
"Fine. But no handcuffs," Rodney demanded.
Neal gave Peter a not-quite-pleading look and thankfully Peter agreed
to no handcuffs. Which was just as well - Rodney was quite liable to
put those cuff picking skills Neal had taught him to use, and that
would not endear him to anyone.
-----
Chapter 2 - Deals To Be Had
Peter arranged for Jones to take McKay back to the office, allowing
Neal to travel in the back with his friend despite serious
reservations. Neal had proven in the past that he could be protective
of his criminal friends, which meant Peter would need to keep a closer
eye on Neal than normal to ensure he stayed out of trouble. Something
Neal didn't make easy.
Back at the office, he had Diana lead Price's interview and organised a
warrant for the arrest of Jack Davison. Hopefully he would be in
custody before the day was out.
Walking into Hughes office, Peter had to admit that McKay's claim of
giving them Newman was exciting, though he couldn't help being
sceptical as well. Others had claimed they had enough information to
put Newman away in the past and yet Newman was still very much free.
That said, McKay did seem very confident that he could deliver, and
Peter's gut was telling him that McKay was no conman. Which meant that
either McKay really could deliver, or that he was better at the art of
the con than Neal - which seemed unlikely.
"Diana mentioned a friend of Caffrey's turning up," Hughes said. "Any trouble?"
"No, he gave himself up. Claims to have a lot of information about
Price and Davison's operation - paperwork they thought was destroyed,
emails and files they thought they'd deleted, that sort of thing."
"I'm taking it he wants a deal?"
"He wants full immunity."
"Unlikely," Hughes stated. "Though if the information he provides is useful, less time in jail may be on the table."
"He claims he can give us Thomas Newman," Peter said.
"What do you think? Is he trying to play us?"
"He seems very confident in his claim," Peter told him truthfully.
"And what does the infamous Burke gut say?" Hughes asked, leaning forward.
"That he genuinely believes we can take Newman down with his information."
"Okay." Hughes looked thoughtful. "If the
information he provides gives us is enough to arrest Newman, with a
good chance of a successful conviction, then full immunity can be
offered."
Peter nodded and headed to a second interview room just as Jones
arrived with Neal and McKay. Peter motioned to Jones to meet him
outside, letting Neal lead McKay into the room.
"Anything I should know about?" Peter asked quietly.
"McKay's got quite a way with insults, but Caffrey seems immune to
them. Actually, I get the feeling Caffrey enjoys provoking McKay. Like
some sort of game they play." Jones shook his head, clearly amused. "It
wasn't a quiet ride, that's for sure."
"Okay. I'll take it from here."
Jones nodded and headed back to his desk.
Peter entered the interview room. Neal was leaning against a wall to
one side, looking as nonchalant and unruffled as always, while Rodney
had already taken the seat on the other side of the desk and was now
looking expectantly at Peter.
"Full immunity is dependent on there being enough to arrest and convict Newman."
"Oh, there'll be enough for that," Rodney said confidently, a smug
smile on his face. "I was going to hand it all over next week anyway,
once I'd followed the original painting back to Newman. I want him in
prison where he belongs."
"So where is the information?"
"I split it over two safety deposit boxes, one at Midtown Mutual and
one at First Unity Bank, plus a storage unit at Manhattan Mini Storage
on Spring Street. You could send Neal to get them if you wanted,"
Rodney said. "I used one of his aliases for them."
"Which one did you use?" Neal asked idly, not seeming at all concerned or surprised about it.
"Nick Halden. I knew the Feds already knew about him, so hoped it wouldn't get you into too much trouble."
"You wanted Neal to be able to access the information in case something
happened to you," Peter stated, figuring that to be the most likely
reason. Rodney gave him an assessing look.
"He's smart," Rodney said to Neal.
Neal shrugged. "He caught me."
"Twice," Peter couldn't resist adding.
"I know, but I never figured out if it was because you were smart or because Neal made mistakes," Rodney said.
"I don't make mistakes," Neal protested. Rodney merely raised an
eyebrow. "Rarely make mistakes," Neal amended with a slightly
embarrassed look. Peter wondered exactly what story lay behind that
particular exchange - and how he could prise it out of Rodney later.
"Anyway," Rodney continued, "Yes, I wanted Neal to have access if
anything went wrong. I set up a program to send an email to Neal at a
set time and date. Each morning I log on and move the date to the
following day. If I don't alter the date, the email is sent."
"And I receive a cry for help," Neal finished.
"I never cry for help," Rodney quickly corrected. "Consider it as
insurance. The closer I came to bringing Newman to justice, the more I
needed a backup plan. When I found out you were working as a consultant
to the FBI, I knew you were it." Rodney shrugged. "I was hoping you
would pass the information on."
"Which I would, if only to rescue you and kick your ass for going after Newman on your own. Assuming you weren't dead by then."
Neal still sounded upset about Rodney going solo on this. Peter
wondered how well the two of them knew each other. Was Rodney another
Mozzie in Neal's life? Because despite his drug induced confession of
not totally trusting Mozzie, Peter knew Neal relied on him and would go
to great lengths to help his friend - and vice versa from what he could
tell. He wondered if Rodney was in that same category of friendship?
Now wasn't the time to explore that though, so he pushed those thoughts
to one side.
"I'll send agents to collect the evidence and start going through it.
In the meantime, we're placing you into protective custody," Peter told
Rodney.
"Can't I just stay with Neal? Or maybe with Mozzie - no one would find me at one of his hideouts."
"Including us," Peter pointed out mildly. "We want you where we can keep an eye on you."
"Fine," Rodney grumbled, looking anything but happy. "Just put on my tombstone that I died of boredom."
"I'll send you a stack of board games and puzzle books. And I'm sure
Mozzie has some science journals you can borrow. I know how you love to
scoff at the articles in them."
"Hmm." Rodney didn't look convinced. "What about a laptop or iPad?"
"I'm sure you'll survive without a computer for a while," Peter said
dryly. "You mentioned you knew Neal was working with us, how did you
find that out? It's not generally well known."
"I'm a hacker, one of the best," Rodney said, looking smug again.
Neal groaned slightly, making a chopping motion across his neck to tell Rodney to shut up.
"You saying you hacked the FBI?"
"Um..." Rodney suddenly looked very unsure of himself and went quiet.
Peter gave him a hard look and Rodney shifted in his seat looking
incredibly guilty and Neal put his face in his hands. Peter stifled a
smile. Clearly, Rodney was no conman.
"You better hope you get that immunity," Peter said, sitting back. "Hacking the FBI is a serious felony."
"I didn't say I hacked into the FBI," Rodney quickly protested. "And you'd never prove it if I had."
"Rodney, maybe now would be a good time to stop talking," Neal advised in exasperation.
"Okay, shutting up now," Rodney said, crossing his arms and looking at Peter defiantly.
Peter rolled his eyes and then stood, indicating that Neal should come with him. "I'll organise transport to a safe house."
"I'll talk to you later," Neal told Rodney as he followed Peter out of the room.
-----
Chapter 3 - Rodney's Past
Peter left the interview room with Neal in tow, calling down to Agent
Blake to keep an eye on Rodney and asking Jones to arrange for a safe
house. Neal followed Peter into his office. He hoped Rodney had the
sense to keep his mouth shut about previous crimes until after receiving immunity. It was bad enough that Peter had already worked out Rodney was not adverse to hacking government servers.
Neal sighed, Mozzie would be disappointed in Rodney. He'd tried really
hard to teach him how to lie and con convincingly, but Rodney's ego was
good at tripping him up - not to mention his too expressive face.
Rodney was not a born grifter.
"So what happened with Newman," Peter asked, taking a seat behind his desk. Neal sat down opposite him.
"There was a shooting at a restaurant when Newman was just starting
out," Neal began. "From what Rodney discovered five years or so ago, a
man called Jenkins was threatening to go to the police and grass Newman
out, so he hired someone to kill Jenkins. Newman didn't want it traced
back to him and so the person he hired shot the restaurant up. Jenkins
was just one of many casualties and the cops never realised that it was
a hit."
"He was hoping the police would think it was a shooting spree, probably by someone with mental health problems?"
"Yeah. The person Newman hired had a history of mental illness and when the cops caught up with him, he shot himself."
"Which all added to their belief that it was a random shooting," Peter said, leaning back in his chair.
"Rodney believed that as well until he ran across something somewhere
that tied Newman to Jenkins." Neal shrugged, Rodney had never told him
where the information had come from. "It wasn't enough to prove
anything legally, but enough to convince Rodney."
"Rodney said Newman had killed his family. They were at that restaurant?"
"Yes. Rodney, along with his parents and little sister, were there that
night. The only reason Rodney survived was because he was in the
restroom when the shooting started. The police found him in there
later."
"How old was he?" Peter asked.
"Ten."
"Damn."
"Yeah." Neal sighed. "He told me about it and I told him not to go
after Newman on his own. I wanted him to wait until Moz and I had time
to think of a plan, a way to bring Newman down without putting any of
us in danger."
"I take it he didn't listen."
"No. He disappeared shortly after you caught me. At first I thought he
couldn't wait for me to get out, but Mozzie was convinced Rodney had
been planning it weeks before I was caught. That he had intended to do
this on his own anyway."
"To protect Mozzie and you," Peter said, clearly remembering the conversation in the warehouse.
"Yeah."
Jones interrupted them, knocking on the door and sticking his head inside the office.
"Everything's ready to transfer McKay to the safe house."
"I want you to go with him. I'll have Diana relieve you later."
"Okay. Davison's been arrested and is on his way up."
"Where did they find him?" Peter asked curiously.
"At home," Jones replied with a grin. "Fortunately he hadn't heard
about Price's arrest yet. Found him watching football on his couch. He
was too surprised to offer any resistance."
"Good," Peter said, happy that things had gone smoothly. "Have him put
in an interview room. I'll see if Diana's got anything from Price and
then talk to Davison."
"I need to ring Mozzie," Neal said, getting his phone out. "Get him
started on the 'don't let Rodney die of boredom' box. Trust me, the
last thing any of you want to deal with is a bored McKay."
"Fine." Peter sighed, rubbing his brow before leaving the office with
Jones. As soon as they were gone, Neal pulled out his phone and called
Mozzie.
"Hey Moz," he said in greeting when Mozzie answered.
"Neal."
"Thought you should know that Rodney's back in town."
"Oh, so the Mighty McKay has decided to grace us with his presence again," Mozzie said sarcastically. "He in trouble?"
"Depends on what you mean by trouble," Neal replied and gave Mozzie a quick run down of the situation.
"Always knew he would turn to the system to get his revenge on Newman. He has far too much faith in 'The Man' for his own good."
"I know, Moz, but I'm glad he didn't try to take Newman on any other
way. He wouldn't have survived if he went after him in person."
"Not on his own," Mozzie agreed.
"Look, could you organise some things for Rodney? Puzzles, games, science journals, those pudding cup things he likes..."
"Ah, a care package to keep the Suits from killing him."
"Yeah. You know what he's like when he's bored."
"All too well. I still can't get Channel 42 on my TV after his last
visit. Thank goodness for downloads, or else I'd have missed Wormhole
X-Treme," Mozzie said, sounding outraged. "I'll see what I can do."
"Thanks, Moz. I'll pick it up from my place as soon as I can get away."
Neal ended the call and sat back. He had a horrible feeling Peter was
going to find out far too much about Neal than he was comfortable with.
Peter was bound to dig into Rodney's past, and some of that was tied to
his own childhood.
This wasn't good.
-----
Diana left the interview room when she saw Peter beckon her from outside.
"Anything?"
"No, Price isn't talking. He's requested a lawyer."
"Okay, get someone to take him to holding, I'm going to talk to
Davison." Peter looked round quickly before continuing more quietly.
"See what you can find on Rodney McKay. I'm curious as to how he knows
Neal."
"Sure, boss," Diana answered. Peter gave her a quick run down of what
Neal had told him about the restaurant shooting before heading in to
interview Davison. As Diana walked past Peter's office, Neal suddenly
appeared next to her wearing one of his most dazzling smiles - that she
was totally immune to.
"Hey, Diana."
"Neal. What do you want?"
"Who says I want anything?" Neal replied, giving her a wounded look.
Diana merely raised her eyebrows and waited. "Fine," Neal said,
dropping the act. "Mozzie's putting some things together for Rodney to
keep him occupied. I need a lift home to collect them and take them to
the safe house. Peter knows about it."
"I'm busy," Diana replied, heading down the stairs.
"Can I borrow your car?" Neal said following her, another of those smiles on his face.
"No way. Touch my car and I'll break both your arms."
Neal faltered a moment and Diana hid a smile. It was always a good feeling when she managed to put Neal off his stride.
"Ask Peter to arrange an agent to take you when he's finished with
Davison," Diana relented. "I'm sure you have paperwork to do until
then."
"Yay, paperwork," Neal said unenthusiastically, but headed to his desk after she gave him one of her glares.
Diana shook her head as she sat at her desk. The restaurant killing
would be a good place to start looking into McKay's background, she
decided, pulling her keyboard towards her.
-----
After a frustratingly quick and unfruitful interview with Davison, who
had immediately clammed up and demanded his attorney, Peter had the
forger sent to holding to be processed. He then headed to the bullpen
and arranged for Agent Blake to take Neal home so as to collect the
'keep McKay occupied' box and take it to the safe house. He told Neal
that he might as well go home after that as it was getting late.
Returning to his office, and always glad to hear his wife's voice,
Peter called El to let her know he'd be home late, before going to
report to Hughes what they had so far. Just as he was leaving Hughes'
office, the flashdrives and paper files were delivered, so organising
who was looking at what was next on his list.
Eventually, he was able to call Diana into his office.
"What have you got on McKay?" Peter asked.
"More than I should have after a couple of hours of digging," Diana
said. "Looks like Cyber Crimes had been looking into him before his
disappearance five years ago. They suspected he was providing criminals
with banned electronic devices, but couldn't get enough evidence for a
search warrant."
"So, what do they have on McKay?"
"His full name is Meredith Rodney McKay and he was born in Vancouver in
1978. His father was a college professor, his mother was a kindergarten
teacher and they had a daughter, Jean Louise, four years later."
"You couldn't tell he was from Canada."
"Apparently his mom was Canadian, but his dad was from Chicago. When
McKay was 9, his dad took a tenured position with the Science
Department at Chicago State University."
"So he's lived in the US longer than Canada, hence the accent. What about the restaurant shooting?" Peter asked.
"There's a copy of the police report included in his file. Someone shot
the place up and committed suicide when the cops caught up with him
later. Rodney was found hiding in the restroom."
"Apparently Rodney found some information that suggested Newman was behind the shooting."
"Agent Sanchez says there's something about that on the first of the flashdrives. You know they're numbered, right?" Diana said.
"I've been told. At least McKay's organised."
"Yeah. There's not enough proof to get a prosecution for the shooting,
but it does look like Newman was behind it. I can see why he wanted to
go after him. A pity he wasn't working for us though, we'd probably
have nailed Newman by now."
"Maybe. What happened after the shooting?"
"He went to live with his aunt in Sycamore, Illinois. She died of a
heart attack four years later. He was placed into a foster home close
by, but ran away after his aunt's funeral. Then we have a gap until
he's 18, when he was caught using a fake ID to try and buy an apartment
on the outskirts of Chicago."
"Fake ID?" Peter said.
"It was in his name - well, Rodney McKay, he dropped his first name, Meredith. Not that I can blame him."
"No." Peter wondered what Rodney's parents were thinking naming him Meredith.
"The ID claimed he was 22. Apparently the apartment complex had a policy of not selling to anyone under 21."
"So he used a fake ID rather than find somewhere else? Must have really
wanted to live there. Any idea where the money came from?"
"He claimed it was his inheritance money, but according to the
investigation at the time his aunt inherited everything from his
parents and when she died, left it all to charity."
Peter frowned. "His aunt left him nothing?"
Diana shrugged. "Maybe she didn't like him."
"Hmm."
"The police never did get to the bottom of where the money was coming
from, and with no proof of anything criminal other than the fake ID, he
ended up paying a fine and that was it. For him, anyway." Diana grabbed
another file, opening it up. "There was a kid with him when he tried to
buy the apartment. His ID claimed he was Liam McKay, aged 18, Rodney's
younger brother."
"But Rodney doesn't have a brother, so the ID was fake as well."
"Yeah. Rodney refused to tell them anything about the kid, and 'Liam'
wasn't very forthcoming either, though he did admit to being 14, not
18. They placed him into a foster home until they could get more
information, but as soon as Rodney had paid his fine, the kid
disappeared - along with Rodney."
"The fake IDs, how good were they?" Peter asked, a suspicion forming in the back of his mind.
"Very good. If it wasn't for the fact the guy who owned the apartment
complex was a retired FBI agent who was used to spotting fake ID, they
might have gotten away with it. The thickness of the lamination was
wrong."
"Any photos of the kid?"
"Oh yes," Diana said with a grin, grabbing another file and passing it to Peter. "You are going to love this."
Peter opened the folder containing the police report on 'Liam McKay'
and stared at the photo on the fake ID. The 14 year old staring out at
him had the same mischievous blue eyes he was used to seeing most days,
along with an unruly mop of dark hair.
"Neal."
"He probably forged those IDs."
"At 14?" Peter rolled his eyes. "Actually, where Neal is concerned, I can believe that. Do you have a name for him?"
"Not yet, but I'm running the face through the missing persons database in the hope something comes up."
"He might not be in it. McKay virtually confessed to hacking the FBI
database when I spoke to him earlier, I'm sure the missing persons
database wouldn't be a problem for him."
"Something could have been missed," Diana said, though they she didn't
sound particularly hopeful. "You could ask Hughes to send someone to
the Chicago office to check through the paper files, though we can't be
certain Neal originates from there."
"Let's see what the database comes up first. What else is there on McKay?"
"In 2000 he set up a computer repair shop in Boston."
"Which is the same year that our first record of Neal Caffrey starts. In Boston, aged 18."
"Neal's file states he moved to New York sometime in 2004. The
following year, Rodney sells his business in Boston and sets up another
shop here in New York."
"So he follows Neal here. I wonder what the story is there," Peter
said, curious. "Okay, help with the Newman information while we wait
for the missing persons search to finish. Neal doesn't need to know
we're looking into him unless we find something solid."
"You sure about keeping this from him, boss?"
"For now, yes." Not knowing what lay in Neal's past, he needed to do
this carefully. Hopefully without spooking Neal into running - or
damaging their friendship.
-----
Chapter 4 - Safe House
Neal delivered two boxes of items that Moz had put together for Rodney
to the safe house - which was actually a room in a FBI monitored motel.
Jones seemed relieved to see him, Rodney being at his most annoying and
sarcastic self. Leaving the boxes with a palpably sulking Rodney, who
had wanted him to stay and distract him, Neal returned home. It wasn't
that he didn't want to talk to Rodney, he just wasn't comfortable doing
so with Jones there. Besides, he was still pissed at Rodney for going
after Newman on his own.
Entering his apartment, he wasn't surprised to see that Mozzie was
still there - nor that he was sitting at the table with a glass of
Neal's wine in his hand, as usual.
"Hey," Neal said, grabbing himself a glass.
"You've safely delivered the supplies then."
"Yes, though I had to phone Peter to get permission for the laptop."
"The Suit gave it?"
"Well, the fact the safe house has no internet connection or Wi-Fi helped."
"There are other ways of connecting to the internet," Mozzie said as he
poured himself another glass of wine from the bottle on the table.
"Which means you hid a dongle amongst the boxes." Neal smiled, not
really all that surprised. It was the sort of thing Mozzie would do.
"It is cruel and inhumane torture to deny a hacker the opportunity to go online."
"I'll remember that should Peter find out and chew me out."
"Do that." Mozzie took a sip of the wine. "You do realise that we will
have to be extra vigilant once Rodney is released from the clutches of
the Suits? Newman is dangerous and I doubt that jail will be enough to
stop him from getting revenge."
"Yeah," Neal agreed, sitting opposite Mozzie and pouring himself a
drink. "I'm sure we'll work something out to keep Rodney safe."
"He's insane, you know."
"Newman or Rodney?"
"Both, but especially Rodney."
"I'll be sure to let him know you said that," Neal said, suddenly
grinning wickedly. "Or you could tell him yourself. I'm sure I could
convince Peter to let you visit him."
"Oh no, no way am I willingly entering the darkness of a government
controlled so-called safe house. I will see him when he comes out the
other side, assuming they don't throw him in jail."
"Once Newman is convicted, they'll give Rodney immunity."
"We shall see."
Neal rolled his eyes at that and turned the conversation to other subjects.
-----
Peter arrived home late, tired and hungry.
"Hey hon," El said coming out of the kitchen and coming over.
"Hey hon," he replied as they hugged and kissed, Peter instantly starting to unwind.
"So how was your day?" El asked.
"Long," Peter replied, shrugging his jacket off and removing his tie.
"I'll heat your dinner up and you can tell me about it over food," El said, heading back into the kitchen.
Peter smiled, not for the first time glad he had a wife like El who
took his work and late nights in her stride. Giving Satchmo a quick
pat, he went upstairs to freshen up and change into something more
comfortable, and then came down just in time for his dinner to be
served.
"How was your day?" he asked.
"Busy. The art gallery I mentioned last week got back to me and have booked catering for a special event next month."
"That's good."
"So, tell me what made my husband late tonight."
Peter gave her a quick run down of the sting against Price, the
unexpected appearance of an old friend of Neal's with information that
looked like it would be enough to get an arrest warrant issued on
Thomas Newman soon.
"Sounds busy - and intriguing. Another friend of Neal's we never knew about. What's he like?"
"Not afraid to call people idiots, even when they're pointing a gun at
him. And certainly not afraid to chew Neal out about what he considered
a foolhardy and dangerous plan. Didn't faze Neal in the slightest. Saw
it as McKay being worried about him."
"Men," El said, rolling her eyes. "Why can't you just come out and say when you're worried about a friend?"
"We're not all like that," Peter protested.
"No, hon. I'm sure you tell Neal how much you worry about him on a regular basis." El smiled at him innocently.
"Okay, maybe we are." Peter gave in, knowing this wasn't an argument he could win.
"How did they meet?"
"Ah, now that really is
intriguing," Peter said, telling El about the fake IDs and the photo of
'Liam McKay' being of a young Neal Caffrey. "Diana's running it through
the missing persons database. If nothing comes up, then I'll see if
Hughes will send someone to Chicago to see if there's anything on
paper."
"Have you told Neal that you're looking into his past?"
"No."
"Don't you think you should?" El said, giving him one of her looks.
"You think I should," Peter interpreted.
"I think it would be fair to let him know. It might damage your friendship if you do this behind his back."
"I don't know. There's a reason we have nothing on him before the age
of 18, but not knowing what that reason is..." Peter paused. "I don't
want him to feel cornered, that's when he gets tempted to run."
"He won't run. He told you he wasn't going to go with Kate, that he's got a life here."
"I know." Peter sighed, not that it stopped him worrying. Having a life
here might not be enough one day, but at the same time he didn't feel
right about keeping it from Neal. "I'll talk to him. At least let him
know the bureau will be looking into 'Liam McKay'."
"It's the right thing to do," El said, gathering the plates and cutlery up and heading back into the kitchen.
Peter only hoped she was right.
-----
It was late the next day when Hughes called Peter and Neal into his office.
"An arrest warrant has been issued for Newman," Hughes told them.
"Hopefully he will be in custody soon, no doubt screaming for his
lawyer."
"Not that it will do him much good," Peter said, looking at the thick
file in front of him. "So far we have him for tax evasion, five counts
of art theft, seven counts of fraud and implication in the murders of
four people - and we haven't finished going through everything Rodney
provided us yet."
"The evidence is solid?"
"Appears to be."
"Good. The paperwork for McKay's immunity is being processed as we
speak." Hughes glanced at Neal. "Your friend has been helpful, but you
should warn him that future hacking will not covered."
"Oh, I will. So, if I was able to find this level of evidence against
one of the FBI's most wanted, would I get immunity too?" Neal asked
with a mischievous smile.
"Neal," Peter warned quietly, shaking his head negatively.
"No." Hughes scowled. "You'd be sent back to jail for breaking your parole agreement."
Neal shrugged. "No harm in asking," he said with a wide grin.
"We should keep Rodney in protective custody for now," Peter suggested. "Newman strikes me as a man who'll want to get even."
"Agreed." Hughes nodded. "Now get out of here."
Peter smiled and indicated the door to Neal, who got to his feet with his usual level of grace and followed him out.
"Rodney's not going to like staying in the safe house, he's already got
cabin fever," Neal said as they walked towards Peter's office. "A
protection detail would be better. He could stay... wherever it is he's
been staying and still be protected. Might even save the sanity of your
agents."
"Maybe in a few days," Peter answered noncommittally. "But he's staying
at the safe house for the time being, for his own safety."
"He's not going to like it."
"Then it's up to you to make sure he doesn't make any trouble," Peter responded.
"I'll do my best. How long will it take for the paperwork to be processed?"
"For his immunity? A couple of hours at least. You want to give him the
good news in person - I believe Jones will be relieving Diana around
then."
"Sure, assuming Diana hasn't shot him first." Neal grinned again, before taking the stairs into the office area below.
-----
Just over two hours later, Newman was in custody but refusing to talk -
which was no surprise to Neal - and the immunity for Rodney had finally
come through. Jones was getting ready to give Neal a lift to the safe
house and relieve Diana, and Neal was wondering who would be giving him
a lift back. As the safe house was outside his radius he needed to have
an agent with him, unless Peter had contacted the Marshals to make the
safe house exempt.
Mulling over his options, his thoughts were interrupted by Peter standing in front of his desk.
"Rodney wants someone to pick up a few things from the place he's
been staying," Peter said without preamble. "He was very insistent that
you accompany anyone I send."
"Okay, I can do that. What does he need?"
"I have better things to do than make lists, you can call him on the way. You coming?"
"Sure," Neal said getting up and grabbing his jacket and hat. "I thought Jones was taking me."
"That would make him late," Peter explained as they headed to the elevators.
"And that would make Diana unhappy," Neal finished.
"She asked me if she could gag Rodney when she called me. I told her no," Peter said dryly.
Neal laughed.
"It's not funny," Peter told him seriously, though Neal could see a
smile tugging at Peter's mouth. "I don't want to have to explain to
Hughes why one of my best agents harmed a protected witness."
"Hmm. I think she's made of sterner stuff than that. Doesn't explain why you're taking me on a run out to Rodney's place instead of another agent."
"There may be evidence there that Rodney forgot to mention."
"Uh huh." Neal looked at Peter disbelievingly.
"And I may have needed a break from the office," Peter admitted, sharing a conspiratorial smile with Neal.
"Your secret is safe with me." Neal kept things light, but he wasn't
too sure about letting Peter into Rodney's place. He had no idea what
sort of things might be lying around in plain view. After all, Rodney
had been intending to return home, not end up in a FBI safe house, so
there hadn't been a need to hide anything. With the immunity in place,
Rodney didn't need to worry too much if they found anything illegal,
but Neal was still concerned about what they might find there.
Especially on the photographic front - Rodney had a small photo album
that he liked to keep close to him and that he didn't always hide away
afterwards. A photo album that Neal didn't want Peter to see.
Reaching Peter's car, they got in.
"So where has Rodney been living?" Neal asked.
"He gave an address in a warehouse district," Peter answered, starting
the engine and driving out of the FBI garage. "I have visions of that
place Mozzie took Franklin and me to that time."
"When you were on the run."
"Yes."
"Which you said you would never do."
"Okay, why don't you get that list from Rodney now," Peter suggested
quickly, dialling Diana's number on the car's hands free device. Neal
grinned widely - score one to him.
"Boss?" Diana's voice answered the phone.
"Hey Diana," Neal said. "I hear Rodney wants some things from his place."
"I'll put him on."
Diana sounded harassed and pissed and, yeah, good thing that Jones was
on his way over there. Neal was sure she wouldn't resort to bodily
harm, but better safe than sorry.
"Neal."
"Hey, Rodney."
"Yeah, look I need some clothes. It was kind of Mozzie to throw some
boxers in, but the ones he got are too big and that's really not
comfortable..."
"Too much information, Rodney," Neal said with a grimace.
"Right, right. Anyway, I could do with some clean socks too. And I'm
sure everyone would be happier if I had clean t-shirts and pants as
well. Oh, hey, bring me the genius t-shirt will you?"
"Are you sure that's wise?" Neal asked, knowing the t-shirt in question
well and wishing he'd never bought the damned thing for Rodney in the
first place.
"Just bring it. And some toiletries. I really don't like the smell of
the deodorant Mozzie packed me and he didn't pack a razor and I hate
the stubble look..."
"Okay, I get it. Toiletries and clothes."
"Yes. Casual stuff - some of us only wear suits when we absolutely have to, you know."
"I do know," Neal said wearily, rolling his eyes.
"Good. Oh, and keep your FBI friend away from my computer, and you can
tell Mozzie to keep his mitts off it too. Last time he accessed my
computer without my permission he left all sorts of stupid pop up
messages on it. Took ages to clean everything out."
"Your computers will be perfectly safe," Neal reassured him, knowing how paranoid Rodney was about anyone touching them.
"Good. There's a suitcase under the bed, and you'll find a burner phone
in my sock drawer. Can you call Preset 1 and let Angela know I'll be
back to pick up Samantha, Monet and Hal as soon as I can."
"Who's Angela?"
"My neighbour."
"Your neighbour?"
"Yes, on Long Island. I only came back to New York last week to follow
the Price lead. Angela looks after the cats while I'm away."
"Fine. I'll ring her when I get a chance. Hal's new."
"Yeah, found him as a kitten last year, lost and alone. Samantha took
to mothering him straight away, though Monet wasn't happy at first.
They seem to have made their peace recently." Rodney sighed. "The
sooner I can be reunited with the little monsters, the better as far as
I'm concerned."
"I'm sure. Talk to you later." Neal disconnected the call.
"Cats?" Peter asked, surprised.
"Yeah, Rodney's got quite the soft spot for them. I was wondering where
they were, but figured that if they were here Rodney would have kicked
up a fuss about sending someone to look after them before now."
"Monet? Your influence I assume?"
"Rodney made the mistake of leaving Sam and his new as-yet-to-be-named
kitten with me. By the time he came back, the kitten was named Monet."
Neal shrugged. "Guess it kind of stuck. Word of warning, though. Don't
ask him about his cats unless you want to be talked at for hours on end about all their amazing antics, and why they're more intelligent than your normal pet cats."
"I'll be sure to remember that," Peter replied dryly.
-----
Chapter 5 - Warehouse Living
Peter was pleasantly surprised by Rodney's apartment. It was the top
floor of a busy import/export warehouse, but other than the location,
you would have thought it belonged to someone with serious money.
"Nice, though the neighbourhood leaves something to be desired."
"Yeah."
"You had no idea this place existed?"
"No," Neal replied, looking around the large living space. "The bedroom
will be through there at a guess," Neal said, pointing to a door at the
back.
"Lead on."
Peter followed Neal into a corridor. To one side was a kitchen and
dining room, the other side turned out to have three bedrooms, each
with an en suite, with one of the bedrooms having been turned into a
computer room and office. At the end of the building was a fourth
bedroom that was clearly the master suite, with a walk in closet and a
very large and luxurious en suite.
"I'll get the suitcase and start packing clothes. Do you mind getting
the toiletries? Or were you thinking of snooping around instead?"
"I'll get the toiletries," Peter said with a sigh, as Neal headed back
into the bedroom. Looking around, he shook his head at the two sinks,
double shower unit, large bath and separate Jacuzzi - talk about
overkill. In one corner there was even a chest of drawers - who needed
drawers in a bathroom? Especially as there were plenty of wall cabinets
for toiletries to be stored in. Though when he checked the cabinets,
they were empty - instead he found what he needed in the drawers, along
with a man's toiletry bag.
Curiosity getting the better of him, he checked the bottom drawer as
well and was surprised by the contents. A mix of electronic parts, CDs,
DVDs, a lockpick set and a small photo album - the type that held one
photo per page with a small section at the side to write a comment in.
What any of this was doing in the bathroom Peter couldn't explain,
other than perhaps Rodney had run out of places to keep things, which
seemed unlikely.
Flipping open the photo album, he couldn't help but smile at the first
photo. Neal was lying on a couch with a small black and white cat on
his chest having what appeared to be a staring contest. At the side of
the photo was written 'PC and Samantha have a stare off. Samantha was
victorious - as usual' and Peter shook his head. He thought everyone
knew that cats could outstare humans.
The next photo made him pause. It was of Kate staring down at a small
black kitten in her hands with a besotted look on her face - 'K and
Monet, mutual affection' was all the caption said.
There were a few more photos of the cats, some alone, some with Kate,
Neal and/or Rodney, all looking relaxed and happy. Peter started to
feel bad about looking through the album without permission, but
curiosity kept him turning the pages.
The last but one photo was of a younger Neal and Rodney outside a shop
called 'McKay's Repairs' and was simply captioned 'Boston Boys'. The
final photo was of a very young Neal, Peter guessed his age to be
around 11 or 12, and a slightly older Rodney, sitting on a park bench.
The caption simply read 'Chicago', though it looked like another
caption had been crossed through with a marker pen. Angling the album
carefully, he could just see the indentations of the words - 'Me and my
friend, the boy with no name. Toby or Liam or Nicky or Pete or
something else?'
Peter closed the album. Interesting. He was even more sure now that Neal Caffrey was not Neal's original name.
"Hey," Neal said from the doorway. "You done yet?"
"Oh. Yeah," Peter said, trying to hide the photo album and failing. Neal's eyes went wide as he spotted it.
"Where was that?"
"In the bottom drawer."
"Stupid place to leave it. If I'd thought it might be in here..."
"You wouldn't have asked me to get Rodney's toiletries," Peter finished.
"I didn't know whether he'd brought that with him or not."
"You didn't want me to find."
"Not really, no."
Peter knew Neal well enough to see that he was freaking out about this despite his calm exterior.
"Cyber Crimes had a file on Rodney," Peter said, moving past Neal into
the bedroom. Neal followed him silently. "We know about his shops in
Boston and New York, we also know about the fake ID he used in Chicago.
And the fake ID for his nonexistent brother, Liam. There was a photo.
Of you."
"So you already know that Rodney and I met in Chicago."
"Yes," Peter sighed. "Look, El said I should talk to you about it. I guess now's a good a time as any."
"No," Neal replied firmly.
"Neal..." Peter cajoled, but Neal shook his head and looked away from
Peter, though not before Peter saw a flash of fear in Neal's eyes.
"Are you running my photo through missing persons?" Neal asked.
"I asked Diana to. I've not heard back yet."
"You won't find me. Rodney did a good job at deleting everything from the system."
"I wondered if that might be the case."
"So what next?"
"I go to Hughes and ask him to send someone to Chicago to do some
digging, see if there's anything on paper. If that doesn't turn
anything up, then the photo will be sent to other agencies in case they
have something on file."
Neal looked back at him and this time Peter could clearly see his fear.
"That wouldn't be a good idea."
"What are you running from, Neal?" Peter asked, concerned.
"Who says I'm running from anything?"
"Neal..."
"Peter," Neal looked away sharply, clearly unhappy, before looking back
at him, a pained look on his face. "Please, just leave this alone."
"I don't know if I can," Peter replied honestly. "Maybe if you told me about it I could decide the best course of action."
"I need some time," Neal said, giving Peter a look that was as close to
begging as Peter had ever seen. "Just... some time to think things
through, okay."
"Fine," Peter relented finally, worried by Neal's growing distress. "I'll leave things alone. For now."
"Thank you," Neal said sincerely.
"Have you packed everything Rodney asked for?" Peter asked, changing the subject.
"Yeah." Neal seemed grateful for the distraction.
"Then let's go."
"Can I have the photo album?"
"Sure. Though I do have a question."
"Peter..." Neal warned.
"What does 'PC' stand for?"
Neal actually smiled at that. "Why, that would be 'Prince Charming', of course."
"Of course." Peter couldn't help but grin. "How very apropos."
-----
Neal used the car journey to try and regain his composure. What had
Rodney been thinking, bringing the photo album here? Let alone leaving
it in the bathroom, of all places. Though thinking about, Rodney
probably thought that was the last place anyone would think to look for
it - which was true, as he hadn't thought the bathroom would be a
dangerous place to let Peter search.
Though Peter had already known, thanks to the ID mess he'd made all
those years ago, so his annoyance at Rodney faded, quickly replaced by
anger at himself. He should have done a better job with the forgeries.
Rodney would have bought the apartment his family had owned when he
first came to Chicago - why he'd wanted to live there, Neal couldn't
really say, other than to be closer to their memories or something -
and Neal could have become his brother, Liam. Instead, they'd heard
rumours that someone was on the streets asking about 'Liam McKay' and
Neal had run, Rodney coming with him.
And now? Now he had to find a way to stop Peter looking any further
into things. He didn't want to lie to Peter, but he might have to this
time. To protect himself and those around him.
A part of him was telling himself not to panic, not to be so stupid,
that after all this time no one would be looking for him, but the fear
he had carried since his childhood was too strong.
He didn't know what to do.
-----
Peter could tell Neal wanted silence on the drive over, so let him be.
And when they arrived at the safe house, Neal's usual confident persona
slipped back into place, as if all was fine in his world and the recent
conversation had never happened. Peter didn't think it would ever cease
to amaze and frustrate him just how easily Neal pushed his emotions
underneath a façade.
"Hey Jones. Rodney," Neal said breezily, lugging the suitcase into the room. "Got you some things."
"At last!" Rodney exclaimed, grabbing the case and opening it, digging
through and pulling out two of the t-shirts inside. "You brought my
favourite ones, excellent." Rodney held up a blue t-shirt that read 'I
don't need your attitude, I have one of my own' on it - which made
Peter shake his head in amusement, being very apt for Rodney from what
he'd seen and heard so far - before dropping it onto the bed and
grabbing the second t-shirt. Peter couldn't see what was on that one as
Rodney disappeared into the bathroom to change.
"That first t-shirt seems," Peter paused briefly. "Very appropriate."
"Wait till you see the one he's putting on now," Neal replied. "You
can't imagine how many times I regretted buying it for him. It
definitely went to his head."
Rodney bustled out just then. "I heard that."
"Seriously," Peter said, staring at the t-shirt in disbelief. It was
grey-green with writing that said 'I'm with genius' and an arrow
pointing to the wearer's head.
"Hey, truth in advertising," Rodney said immodestly. "So how goes the investigation?"
"Newman is in custody and you have full immunity for any past crimes," Neal said.
"Excellent! And the cats, have you called Angela?"
"No, I was busy packing your case."
"I can call her," Rodney said, making a 'gimme' motion with his hands.
"No calls," Peter said.
"I'll call her when I get home," Neal promised. "I'm sure they'll be fine."
"Fine. How did you like the apartment?"
"Spacious and ridiculously luxurious," Neal replied.
"It was meant to be a present. For you... and Kate." Rodney looked sad.
"I'm sorry I wasn't around for you when, well, you know."
"It's okay," Neal said, trying to shut the conversation down, clearly uncomfortable with Jones and Peter overhearing it.
"No, it's not. I should have been there for you, I know how much she
meant to you. And Mozzie, I heard about the shooting. I should have
made contact..."
"Rodney," Neal interrupted him. "It's fine."
"Is it? I let my obsession get in the way of friendship. Not that I've ever been that good at the friendship thing, but..."
"Making contact could have put us in danger, because you know we would
have helped you even if you didn't want us to. I get that, like I get
what drove you to bring Newman down."
"So we're good?"
"Of course," Neal replied, sounding exasperated.
"I need to get back to the office," Peter interrupted. "Neal, you staying or do you want a lift home?"
"Stay," Rodney pleaded. "I'm climbing the walls here, you could at least provide me with some distraction."
"Okay, I'll stay for a bit."
"Agent Blake can take you home later," Peter said and Neal nodded.
-----
Chapter 6 - Snatch and Grab
Agent Blake dropped Neal off a couple of hours later. Neal opened the
door to his apartment and blinked at the sight before him. Just like
the night before, Mozzie was sitting at his table with an open bottle
of his wine, sipping from a glass. It was getting to be such a regular
thing, he wondered if June should be charging Mozzie rent too.
"I thought you would still be bound to your desk with paperwork," Mozzie said by way on introduction.
"No, thankfully I was able to get away from that particular hell."
Neal removed his jacket and hung it up in the bedroom, shucking his tie
as well, before joining Moz at the table with a glass to pour himself
some wine. He stared into it for a few moments, before taking a sip.
"You alright?" Moz asked.
"Hard day."
"What about Newman? Word on the street is that he was arrested earlier today."
"He's in custody. Not talking, of course, and denying all charges. The
case against him is solid though, and more is being added even now.
Rodney did a good job."
"And how is the Mighty McKay?"
"Happy to have immunity for his past crimes, unhappy about being stuck
in the safe house for a few more days. He says 'hi', by the way."
"I know, he emailed me."
"Found a chance to use that dongle you smuggled him."
"That you smuggled him," Mozzie corrected. "I merely put it in the box."
"Right."
"So all's well, then."
"Rodney asked for some things from his apartment. Did you know he still had a place in New York?"
"No, I thought he sold his apartment along with his business before going after Newman."
"Yeah, well, he still has a place here. Peter drove me there to collect clothes and things."
"So?"
"He saw the photo album. You know, the one I told Rodney to lock away somewhere safe."
"Ah," Mozzie said, nodding in understanding. "So the Suit is looking into your past."
"He knew some of it anyway, thanks to that stupid fake ID mess."
"Have you asked him not to look?"
"No," Neal sighed. "I asked him to give me some time, but I don't know
how long he can resist looking into things. Officially or off the
books."
"You've never even told me about how Rodney and you met, let alone anything before that. You going to tell the Suit?"
"If he goes looking..." Neal paused, staring into his drink again. "If
the wrong person sees a photo of me as a teen and puts two and two
together, then... well, let's just say there's someone out there who
would very much like to see me dead."
"Hmm. Maybe if you tell him you could end up dead, he will stop looking."
"Or he might keep looking so he can deal with the person in question to
protect me. Peter believes in justice, but sometimes it's better - safer - to leave things well alone."
"Your choice, mon frere, your choice."
"I know," Neal said, standing up. "I need some air. Try not to drink the whole bottle before I get back."
"No promises."
-----
Neal walked the streets, trying to get his mind around how quickly
things were going bad. Rodney's return to his life shouldn't have
complicated things like this, and yet it had.
His past was a place he didn't want to go, for many reasons. The
nightmares were still there, pushed back but always ready to break
through when he least wanted them to. Childhood fears that were very,
very real. If Peter looked too hard, if the wrong person made
connections, if Carver... Neal shuddered. Just thinking that name
brought back memories he wished he could forget. If Carver came here to
find Neal, then everyone he cared about could be in danger.
Night had fallen as he headed back to June's. He was just passing the
local corner store when a black van screeched to a halt beside him -
which was never a good thing in his book, so he started to run even as
he heard the side door being opened. He didn't get very far before his
left arm was grabbed. Acting on instinct, Neal turned and kicked out at
the man while twisting sharply. It worked, his arm slipping from the
man's grasp, but before Neal could turn and run another person grabbed
him from behind, arms around Neal's chest trapping his arms.
"Let go," Neal shouted, hoping the noise would help attract attention
from the store owner. The first guy slugged him across his chin and
then he was being bundled into the van, the door closing behind him.
He turned from where he had sprawled and froze. There was a third guy in the van holding a gun pointed at his face.
"Sit down," the third guy said. "And don't think about moving, or I'll
shoot you in the leg. And maybe the other leg too while I'm at it."
Neal sat.
"What do you want?" he asked, letting a hint of desperation into his
voice in the hopes of lulling the bad guys into underestimating him.
"We want the address for the safe house where Rodney McKay is," the guy
with the gun, and a nasty scar down the side of his face, said
menacingly.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Neal protested, playing the innocent and scared bystander.
"Nice try, but we know he snitched to a FBI agent called Burke and that
you're his CI. So, I'll ask you again - where is McKay being kept?"
Okay, time for a new plan. "Fine, I work with Burke. But he doesn't trust me, not with information like that."
"I don't believe you."
The first guy - a blond with a mean look on his face, who Neal quickly
named Goon One - stepped forward and punched Neal in the stomach.
Neal's body jerked in response, pain flowing through him as he gasped
and coughed, fighting for breath. This was not good.
"Tell me what I want to know and maybe you'll live," the gun wielding
guy who was clearly the boss - Neal quickly named him Goon Boss -
snarled.
The other guy - Goon Two, Neal decided to call him - leaned closer to Goon Boss. "What if he doesn't know?"
"Oh, he knows. I'm sure of it," the deep voice snarled.
Neal glared but said nothing, receiving another fist to the stomach from Goon One when Goon Boss nodded to him.
And then the tracker anklet started beeping quietly, warning him that
he was leaving his two mile radius and also effectively drawing
attention to itself.
"Boss?" Goon Two looked worried as Goon One pulled up Neal's pants leg to show the anklet.
"Find something to cut it off with," Goon Boss growled.
The van had an area at the driver's end with metal cupboards built into
it and Goon One opened one of them, grabbing a pair of pruning shears -
Neal wondered what they were doing in the van. Maybe it belonged to a
gardening service? As Goon One approached him, Neal pulled his leg back
instinctively, eyeing the sharp implement nervously.
"Let him remove it or I will
shoot you," Goon Boss threatened. So Neal reluctantly let Goon One
remove the anklet, the shears making short work of it. He was relieved
it hadn't cut him.
"Throw it out," Goon Boss ordered and then smiled nastily at Neal as
Goon One did as he was told. "Now no one can track you now. They'll
think you cut it yourself and are running. So, tell me what I want to
know or things are going to get very unpleasant for you."
"I told you, they don't tell me this sort of thing. They don't trust me."
Goon One punched him again.
"Stubbornness will only cause you more pain," Goon Boss stated. "But
let's wait until we're out of the van. It's much easier to hurt you
when things aren't moving."
Neal curled over, making himself seem pathetic while checking the van
out. He wouldn't be able to get out with the three of them in here -
not that he liked the idea of jumping from a moving van anyway - but
when they stopped he might have a chance to run for it.
Ten minutes later, the van came to a halt and Neal readied himself. The
door opened and Goon One grabbed him, making him stand and pushing him
out of the van. As soon as Neal's feet touched the ground, he kicked
backwards causing Goon One to grunt in pain and let go in reflex. Neal
ran.
Unfortunately he didn't get far. Someone threw a tyre iron at him,
hitting him behind his knees and he couldn't stop himself falling.
Before he could get up, Goon One and Two were there, pulling him up and
pushing him roughly towards a warehouse.
So much for that plan. All he had done was annoy his captors even more.
"You're not getting away that easily," Goon Boss said nastily, giving a
pair of handcuffs to a fourth person, the one who must have been
driving and who Neal automatically named Goon Three.
He was dragged into the boiler room of the warehouse and his hands were
cuffed, the chain threaded round a pipe above him, causing him to have
to stand on tiptoe.
"Now, where is McKay being kept?" Goon Boss asked again.
"I don't know."
Goons One and Two laid into him with their fists and feet, punching and
kicking him. As much as he wanted to, Neal couldn't move to avoid the
blows, each one sending pain cascading through him - especially when a
fist or kick landed on a place already tenderised by previous ones.
Sometimes his feet would lose their tenuous contact with the floor and
he'd find his weight pulling against the cuffs, blood flowing down his
arms as they cut into his wrists. Neal wasn't sure how long it lasted,
but it seemed a very long time before the Goon Boss called them off.
Neal desperately wanted to hunch over but couldn't, instead hanging
from the pipe work panting, out of breath and trying to get his feet
back under him.
"Tell me the address."
"No."
Another beating, and then another. Neal knew this was bad, really bad.
Especially when his vision began to blur around the edges and his
breathing became laboured. He only hoped that Peter would be able to
find him. Soon.
-----
"Boss?" Diana stood in the doorway of Peter's office.
"Come in."
"The search has come back for Caffrey. There's no one in the database that matches his photo."
"He told me Rodney deleted everything."
"You talked to Caffrey?"
"Yes, and he's not being very forthcoming."
"So what now? Do we pass this onto Hughes?"
"No, not yet." Peter leaned back in his chair. "Neal asked me to give
him a few days, so I'm going to do that. I do know one thing, whatever
he's running from has him freaked out. He tried to hide it, but
something has him scared."
Agent Sanchez entered the office.
"Caffrey's cut his anklet," he reported.
Peter stood quickly. "Where and when?"
Agent Sanchez brought Neal's tracking data up on the screen and pointed.
"A few minutes ago, the Marshals are on there way now."
"That's outside his radius. Diana, come with me." Peter grabbed his jacket and headed to his car.
"Do you think he ran?"
"I don't know. He was pretty rattled about us looking into his past,
but I don't think he'd run like this. At least, not right now."
If Neal hadn't run, then something bad must have happened. Peter dreaded what the answer would be.
-----
Arriving on the scene, a Marshal came over with the cut anklet.
"Special Agent Peter Burke," Peter said, flashing his badge. "Where was the anklet found?"
"Over here. It looks like it was thrown there, probably from a moving vehicle."
"Damn."
"There's a traffic cam nearby. NYPD are checking it to see if they can
identify the vehicle, but it's a long shot - the camera might not pick
up something being thrown."
"I want a list of vehicles that have passed this way in the last forty minutes. You got people canvassing the area?"
"Yes. Maybe someone will have seen something."
"Good," Peter nodded, hoping that someone had witnessed what had happened.
"Boss," Diana approached him. "Just got a call from Sanchez. There's a
report of a man being abducted about thirty minutes ago. From the
description, it sounds like Caffrey. It was a couple of blocks from his
place."
"Did you get that?" Peter asked the Marshal.
"Yes. Sounds like Caffrey may have been kidnapped, not for the first time from what I've heard. I'll let my people know."
"Thank you."
"I asked Sanchez to send agents to where Caffrey was taken to help
canvas the area. He's also grabbing CCTV footage from a corner store,"
Diana told him.
"Call Jones, I want McKay transferred back to the office. If there's a
chance this is related to the Newman case, then maybe he can help us.
We haven't finished going through all his flashdrives yet."
"On it, boss."
They headed back to the office, Peter with a growing dread in his stomach. This was not good.
-----
Chapter 7 - Getting Away
Eventually the beatings stopped. The Goon Boss leaned in close.
"Time for a change in tactics I think," he said. "I didn't want to have
to grab an FBI agent, but clearly you're not going to help us."
"Boss, is that a good idea?" asked Goon Two nervously. "They come down hard on people who take their agents."
"If you want out, I can provide that for you," Goon Boss said, pointing the gun at Goon Two, who swallowed. "Do you want out?"
"N...No."
"Good. Come with me, both of you. We need a new plan."
Neal watched through hooded eyes as they left the room, leaving him
alone. Closing his eyes, all he wanted to do was just hang here and
hope everything just went away, but he pushed that away. He needed to
get out of here.
Managing to get his feet back under him, still on tiptoe, he steadied
himself as much as he could. He followed the line of the pipe he was
handcuffed to, noting that about three metres to the right of him the
pipe bent downwards a few inches to fit under a ceiling beam. There was
a lockpick sewn into his shirt cuff, but trying to reach it while
standing on tiptoe with his hands taking most of his weight would be
extremely difficult, and there was a good chance he could drop it - his
hands, as well as his arms, were already going numb. If he could get to
the section of the pipe under the beam, he could relieve the pressure
and have a much better chance of picking the cuffs.
Slowly, he eased himself along the pipe. His body was in uproar at the
idea of moving, but he had to do this. He had to get
away, because there was a good chance they would kill him. And he
needed to warn Peter. They were going after someone from White Collar,
and he couldn't let that happen.
-----
Rodney entered the conference room at the FBI, still feeling a little
shell shocked to hear that Neal had been kidnapped. Agent Burke was
already there, along with the female agent who didn't seem to like him
much - Bearigon, Barrigon? Agent Jones followed Rodney into the room as
well. At least his name was easy to remember.
"Rodney, take a seat," Burke said, using a remote to bring something up
on the room's screen. "This is the CCTV footage from outside the corner
store where Neal was grabbed. I'm hoping you might recognise the
abductors."
"Okay." Rodney sat, watching the screen as the footage showed Neal
approaching the corner store as a van pulled up beside him. Neal tried
to run, even getting free from the first guy who'd grabbed him, but
didn't stand a chance against two of them. Rodney closed his eyes,
wishing the images he was seeing weren't real. "Can we get close ups of
the guys who took him?"
"Already on it," Peter replied, rewinding and then pausing on the face of the first guy and zooming in.
"They didn't wear masks," Jones pointed out. "I thought that was Kidnapping 101."
"They clearly didn't know about the CCTV," Bearigon/Barrigon added.
Rodney wished he knew her first name. Maybe that would be easier to
remember?
"Or they're confident that they can get away." Burke sighed. "Which doesn't bode well for Neal."
"I don't recognise this guy, he might not be working for Newman,"
Rodney interjected, not wanting to think about a potentially dead Neal.
"Okay." Burke moved the footage along, pausing and zooming in on the second guy.
"Oh," Rodney exclaimed softly. "Yes, he's one of Newman's people. He's
new. You'll find information on him on flashdrive 28, under the file
'Newman's goons'. I'm kind of wishing I hadn't saved everything in
chronological order now. One file with all his known associates would
be better than several scattered over the flashdrives. I wasn't really
thinking about that at the time though, just trying to get the
information..."
"Rodney," Burke interrupted him, "You did what you thought was best. You're here, you can guide us to what we need."
"Yes, okay." Rodney took a breath, pushing the dread down and
concentrating on trying to find Neal. He drew from his anger at Newman
to help steady himself. "Right. There are files about properties that
are tied to Newman on flashdrives 5, 17, 22 and 30."
"Jones," Burke started, just as Jones interrupted with a 'on it, boss'
and left before Burke could give the order. Rodney was impressed with
the way this team worked.
"Diana, get photos of the men from the footage and put out BOLOs on
them," Burke ordered, Diana - and thank goodness her first name was easy to remember - already rising to go.
"On it boss."
"They took him to get to me." Rodney looked shaken. "I tried to keep Neal out of this. If they kill him..."
"We'll find him before that happens," Burke stated confidently, and Rodney wondered if Burke was always that certain.
"They'll hurt him. This is all my fault." And it was, it was all his
fault. If he'd never gone after Newman... but no, he'd had to do that.
He couldn't have lived with himself if he hadn't tried to bring Newman
down - and yet now Neal was paying for it and that...
Rodney vowed that he would never do anything on his own as stupid as
this again. If he'd let Neal and Mozzie help, maybe things would be
going better now.
"No." Burke said, disturbing his thoughts and looking at him seriously. "Newman is to blame. Remember that."
If only it was that easy.
-----
Neal had carefully and agonisingly managed to make it to the section of
pipe that moved downwards a few inches. Now able to stand without being
on tiptoes, he was able to take the weight off his hands and arms to a
large extent. Slipping the lockpick out of his shirt cuff was a lot
more difficult than he had expected, and he almost dropped it a couple
of times, making his heart beat wildly. But finally, the cuffs on his
left hand unlocked and he fell to the floor with a pained grunt.
He took a few moments to collect himself, rubbing his hands and arms to
try and restore circulation, before using the wall to pull himself
upright, pushing away the temptation to just sit there and give in to
the pain. He had to get to the door, he just had to concentrate on
putting one foot in front of the other.
It was slow going, using the walls and pipes to help steady himself,
but eventually, finally, he reached the door. Which was locked, of
course. Bending down, he bit back a curse, but he knew if he got down
on his knees to pick the lock there was a good chance he wouldn't make
it back to his feet. So bending it was.
The lock clicked open after a minute - longer than it would normally
have taken him - and Neal sighed in relief when the door opened
quietly, no ominous creaking to give him away or bar across the outside
of the door to keep him in. Not even a guard outside waiting to shoot
him.
He didn't know the layout of the building, but the corridor in front of
him only led one place anyway - a staircase leading upwards, presumably
up towards the warehouse floor. Sighing, he started along the corridor,
silently praying that no one came to check on their prisoner.
By the time he reached the stairs, he was sweating profusely. Looking
upwards, a part of him groaned at the thought of trying to climb them,
but he couldn't stop now. He had to keep going. One step at a time, he
made the torturous journey to the next floor.
There was still no one in sight as he left the stairwell, which
appeared to lead into a back corridor containing offices. He could hear
voices down the corridor to the right, so he turned left, following the
wall until he came to a door - which led into a garage. Finally, luck
was on his side as he spotted a black van inside it.
He staggered to the driver's side of the van, smiling when he realised
the door was unlocked. A quick search revealed the keys to be tucked
under the sun visor. Sloppy, he thought, but he'd take sloppy if it
meant he could escape more easily.
Hauling himself into the seat, he started the van up and then realised
his mistake. Garage doors. He should have opened them first.
He could hear voices approaching, sounding angry, so he gunned the
engine, closing his eyes and sending the van slamming into the garage
doors. The doors disintegrated, the wood clearly not up to the force of
the van hitting them, and Neal grinned as he shot out into the street
and down the road, leaving the goons far behind him.
He soon orientated himself to where he was, a warehouse district near
the Brooklyn bridge. Calculating distances, he decided that the Burke's
house was closer than the Federal offices. As he had no idea how long
he would be able to keep driving in this state, he chose the closer
option. He had no idea if Elizabeth was home. He knew Peter wouldn't be
as he'd be looking for Neal. But if no one was home, he'd just have to
let himself in and call Peter.
Plan made, he headed the van for the Burke's side of town.
-----
Elizabeth had been home when Peter had called to let her know he
wouldn't be back for some time. When he'd briefly told her what had
happened, worry had set in. Over her brief association with him,
Elizabeth had found herself liking the young forger and the thought of
anything happening to him made her shudder. She busied herself with
household tasks, trying to take her mind off her worry and failing
miserably.
She was just debating whether to call for an update - knowing that if
they had found Neal, Peter would have called, but wanting to know if
they had any leads at least - or whether calling would be a distraction
that Peter didn't need right now, when she heard a knock on the front
door.
Opening the door, she stood in shock for a few moments.
"Hey, Elizabeth. I need to call Peter. And maybe pass out sometime soon, that kind of sounds good too."
"Neal!" She moved to one side to let him in, before slipping her arm
around him as he all but fell into the house, shocked at the state he
was in. "Come on, sit down before you fall down." She led him over to
the couch and carefully helped him sit down.
"Peter..."
"Stay there, I'll call him," she told Neal firmly as he started to
rise, glad to see him nod and sit back down. She grabbed her phone and
dialled Peter.
-----
Peter was in the conference room with Rodney and Diana trying to track down leads when El called him.
"Hey hon."
"Hey hon," El said sounding slightly in shock. "Neal's here."
Peter stood, instinctively grabbing his jacket even while putting his phone on speaker.
"Neal's there?" he said, stunned. Rodney and Diana looked up sharply at his words.
"Yes. He just turned up at the door. He should be in hospital..."
"How bad is it?" Concern coloured Peter's voice.
"His wrists are bloody and someone's beaten him badly."
There was a murmur from Neal.
"Neal says they wanted to know where Rodney was being kept and that they're planning to go after an agent."
"Okay, we'll take precautions. Can he tell us anything about his kidnappers?"
"I'll put you on speaker," El said. "Neal, Peter asked what you can tell us about the people who did this."
"Four of them," Neal's pained voice replied. "Um, warehouse district.
Near Brooklyn Bridge. Sorry, left in a hurry. Wasn't paying a lot of
attention."
"That's okay," Peter said. "We have a place to start. How did you get away?"
"Lockpick in my shirt cuff, the goons having an argument in another room and a van left unattended in the garage."
"Diana," Peter turned to her. "Get a team down to the warehouse
district and send forensics to my house for the van, along with an
agent and EMTs."
"Sure thing, boss," Diana replied, leaving the room, already giving
orders into her phone as she went down the stairs into the office area.
"El, an ambulance will be on its way to you soon as well as an agent.
Let me know which hospital they're taking Neal to and I'll meet them
there."
"Okay. I'll grab a lift with your agent," El said and Peter didn't bother to argue with her.
"I'm coming with you," Rodney said, worry clear on his face.
"No, you're not," Peter said sternly. "You're staying here where I know you're safe."
"But..."
"Rodney," Neal's voice came over the phone. "I'd feel a lot better knowing you were safely ensconced at the FBI."
"Okay, fine, I'll stay - but only under protest."
"Protest noted," Peter said dryly.
-----
Chapter 8 - Battered and Bruised
Peter, like most people, didn't like having to visit ER and now was no
exception. It was noisy and confusing, clearly a busy time with people
seemingly everywhere, not helped by a guy having a loud argument with
the nurse on reception. He was thinking of pulling his badge in
the hopes of bypassing the arguing man when El was suddenly there in
front of him, her arms slipping around him.
"How bad?" he asked anxiously.
"I don't know. They're assessing him now. It looks bad."
"Where is he?"
Slipping out of his arms, El's hand linked with his and she towed him towards a cubicle in the back.
"He's just come back from x-ray," she told him, trying to keep the worry out of her voice.
El towed Peter towards a cubicle at the back of the ER. Pushing past
the curtains, El moved to one side and Peter finally got his first look
at Neal, noting the multiple bruises on his face, arms and chest, plus
bandages on his wrists. It looked painful, to say the least. A nurse
was just settling Neal into the bed, putting pillows behind his back.
Neal was wincing and groaning, and Peter wondered if maybe they should
have waited a few moments before barging in on him.
The nurse glanced at them, raising an eyebrow in query.
"Peter Burke, FBI. Neal is my CI," he told her.
"They can stay," Neal added, sounding strained.
"Okay." The nurse nodded, before turning her attention back to Neal.
"The doctor will be along shortly to discuss what he found on the
x-ray," she said, giving him a sunny smile, which Neal returned. Peter
fought the urge to roll his eyes. Even beat up, Neal was flirting. Just
typical.
As the nurse left, a female doctor entered with a chart in her hand.
"Mr Caffrey?"
"Yeah. What's the damage?" Neal asked, avoiding Peter and El's eyes.
"Severe bruising over the torso, legs and face and a cracked rib.
There's a small internal bleed that we think will heal nicely with no
need of surgery. All in all, you've been pretty lucky, though I doubt
you'll feel that for the next few weeks."
"So, when can I go home?" Neal asked, and this time Peter did roll his
eyes. Not that he could blame Neal, he didn't like being in hospital
either.
"We need to keep you in for observation until the bleeding stops."
Peter saw the disappointed look on Neal's face, but was relieved that
Neal would be kept in. Internal bleeding, no matter how small, was not
something to mess with.
"You'll be admitted shortly," the doctor added, before leaving the cubicle to attend another patient.
"I'll get Mozzie to collect some overnight things for you," El said,
taking her phone out and exiting the cubicle. Peter knew that it
was also her way of leaving them to talk.
-----
Neal watched as Elizabeth left. He knew he must have scared her,
turning up like he did, but she seemed to be taking it remarkably
calmly.
"Rodney called while I was on the way over here. Apparently he's
changed his mind about staying safe and is insisting on seeing you.
He's even threatened to refuse protection if that's what it takes."
Neal turned his attention back to Peter, who sounded exasperated, and
Neal couldn't help smile. "It's not funny."
"Oh, it is." Neal grinned. "Rodney can be very
awkward when he puts his mind to it. Kind of fun to watch, actually."
"Unless you're the one he's being awkward towards."
"True," Neal allowed. "Maybe you should let him come."
"Maybe."
"You should go home," Neal said as Peter rubbed tired eyes with his
hands. "Dealing with Rodney can be tiring when he's in one of his
moods."
"He's worried about you. He's not the only one either."
"Aw, are we having a moment?" Neal asked, smiling innocently at the annoyed glare Peter gave him.
"No, we're not having a moment. I meant El, June, maybe Mozzie."
"Of course you did." Neal knew better but decided to let Peter off, not
really keen on going into that emotional territory anyway. "I'll be
fine. Doctors think I can be released soon."
"I'm arranging for you to join Rodney at the new safe house."
"Peter," Neal protested as Peter put his hand up in a stop motion.
"I don't want to hear it," he said. "You're going to the safe house until we can be certain Newman is no longer a threat."
"I don't get a say in it?"
"No."
Neal sighed, leaning his head back against the pillow. "Fine."
"Besides, the doctors want someone with you for the first week or so. This way kills two birds."
"Great. Rodney makes a terrible nurse. And I really don't feel up to
dealing with a McKay Guilt Trip of Epic Proportions right now." Because
he knew Rodney would blame himself for this, and he also knew that
trying to convince Rodney otherwise would be difficult, maybe even
impossible. For someone so lacking in social niceties, he certainly
knew how to do guilt well when someone he cared about got hurt.
"Cowboy up," Peter said with a grin.
"Thanks," Neal muttered sullenly.
"You know, I can't quite get my head around you and Rodney. He seems to
care about you a lot, but you don't seem keen to have him around."
"He sees me as family."
"But you don't."
"I..." Neal trailed off, not sure how to answer. "Rodney's a friend."
"Like Mozzie?"
"Yeah, something like that."
"But you don't fully trust him," Peter said.
Neal sighed again. "He got himself a business, put himself through college and appeared to go completely legit."
"And you didn't go legit," Peter stated.
"Allegedly." They shared a grin at that. "Which, yes, makes it
difficult to trust him completely. Especially as he trusts the system
too much. Just look at his revenge on Newman for example. He went
outside the law to get the information, true, but then he handed it
over in exchange for immunity."
"He gets his justice through the system."
"Exactly. When we were kids, it was different. It was about survival.
But as soon as he could leave that life behind, he did. I know now that
he continued hacking, but back then I didn't. It felt like a betrayal
at first, though I've come to terms with it now. And maybe, in some
ways, he's right. Revenge through justice, it's better than..." Neal
trailed off, not really wanting to finish his thoughts.
"It's better than holding a gun to someone's head," Peter finished for him.
"Did I thank you," Neal asked suddenly. "For stopping me?"
"Not in words."
"Then thank you." And he meant it. Killing Fowler would have destroyed
him. It would have made him like Carver, and that was the last thing
that Neal wanted.
"I guess we are having a moment after all," Peter said with a wry smile.
Neal laughed, and then winced as his cracked rib protested.
"I should get back to the office. I have a lot to do. Like catch the ones who did this to you."
"You'll get them. They didn't strike me as the smartest criminals around."
"I'll drop by later."
Neal watched as Peter left to find El and go home, and decided to blame their talk on the powerful pain meds he was on.
-----
The following day
Rodney hated hospitals, but he needed to see for himself that Neal was
in one piece, so put his dislike to one side. He nodded to the agent at
the door to Neal's room and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly,
before entering with Burke.
"Hey, Rodney, Peter." Neal greeted them with a smile.
"You look terrible," Rodney blurted out, staring the dark bruises on
Neal's too pale arms and the bandages peeking out from under the
hospital scrubs.
"I see your bedside manner hasn't improved," Neal said dryly.
"You're never allowed to complain about my bedside manner again," Burke
stated, dragging a chair over to the bed and sitting down.
"You'll be glad to know they caught the thugs who did this to you,"
Rodney said, ignoring their comments. He couldn't help it if he
preferred to call a spade a spade.
"You did?" Neal asked Burke.
"Yeah. Rodney identified one of them and we caught him trying to fly
out of JFK. He gave us the names of the other three, who were trying to
leave the city by bus. Looks like they were too busy running after your
escape to try and grab an FBI agent."
"That's good. What about Newman? Is he still a threat?"
"Price and Davison have started talking and we've been pulling in more
of Newman's associates. His criminal empire is falling as we speak."
"Which is why I'm being released from protective custody," Rodney
added. Burke had tried to argue that Rodney wait a few more days, but
with the 'empire' collapsing, he'd refused to be holed up any longer.
"I bet that's a relief - for everyone," Neal said. "Back to the warehouse apartment?"
"For now, but not long term. I've got someone interested in renting it and it's not really my style."
"Heading back to Long Island then."
"No, I'm putting that place up for sale and looking for somewhere in
New York. Going to buy a shop as well, get the old business back up and
running."
"Preferably without the illegal electronic goods," Peter added.
"Contrary to Cyber Crimes' suspicions, I never sold anything illegal,"
Rodney told him seriously. "That was one of my employees, who I sacked
just before selling the business on."
"Still, I'm curious about where your money comes from." Peter looked at Rodney a little too interestedly for his liking.
"Not that it's any of your business, but the computer shop was doing
very well and I was contracting my services out to the rich and
powerful. Custom made computers, software, that sort of thing." Which
was true, though maybe not quite all the truth. His start up capital in
Boston had come from more nefarious sources, and there was that
sideline only he knew about. Hacking could make good money if you knew
what you were doing - which he did. Had. No more hacking, he reminded
himself, determined to stay on the straight and narrow from now on.
"I'm looking within a certain two mile radius for both the shop and house, though it does depend on what's available."
"So Neal can visit you. That's nice, isn't it?" Peter asked Neal.
"If it means Rodney doesn't have to be coming to June's all the time,
then I'm happy. Mozzie's virtually moved in as it is. It's hard to get
any privacy," Neal moaned good naturedly.
"Hmm, well, it'll take a few weeks to get everything sorted, not to
mention pack everything up and collect the furry monsters. Maybe you'll
look less like a punching bag by then."
Neal rolled his eyes and tried to cover a wince the action caused.
"This is my fault," Rodney said, the guilt he'd been trying to ignore suddenly flaring.
"It's really not," Neal answered firmly.
"Tell me how it's not, because it looks very much like my fault from here."
"This isn't your fault," Neal reiterated. "It's Newman's. He sent them after me..."
"Yes, to get to me, which he wouldn't have wanted to do if I hadn't..."
"Peter, tell Rodney it's not his fault," Neal said in exasperation.
"It's not your fault, Rodney. Newman is to blame, no one else," Burke
stated with authority. Rodney looked at Burke and then back at Neal,
unconvinced but realising they weren't going to budge on this.
"Fine. Apparently it's not my fault."
Only it was, and they weren't going to convince him otherwise.
Fortunately, Neal asked Burke for details about the case against
Newman, and Rodney found a second chair to sit on, making the
occasional interjection now and then.
-----
Chapter 9 - Neal's Past
Four days later
Neal was glad to finally be back in his apartment. He'd been
cooped up at Peter's once he'd been released from the hospital -
Elizabeth having insisted that he stay until he was able to manage the
stairs at June's and bend down without wincing from the cracked rib.
Of course, almost as soon as Peter and Elizabeth had brought him home
and, eventually, left him to himself, Rodney had arrived, not convinced
that Neal was well enough to be left on his own. Neal really just
wanted to be alone for a while, but he let Rodney stay, knowing that he
was still feeling guilty over the beating Neal had taken. That said,
his patience only went so far.
"Will you stop it," Neal asked in frustration.
"Stop what?" Rodney replied, confused
"Stop hovering."
"I'm not hovering!"
"Yes, Rodney, you are."
"Well forgive me for being worried about a friend!"
"I'm fine."
"Oh sure, the bruises and cracked rib are nothing..."
"Rodney," Neal stopped him, looking at him seriously. "I'm okay. Yes,
I'm sore, but I'm okay. I'm alive. And you're not to blame."
"I'm not blaming myself, you've already said that I'm not to blame."
"Right. So the hovering has nothing to do with guilt?"
Rodney looked away briefly before sighing heavily. "Okay. Maybe a
little. But look at you, all beat up because Newman wants me dead - and
okay, maybe that's not my fault, but I never meant for you to get
dragged into this. Never meant for you to get hurt, and yet here you
are, hurt. Because of my obsession, my need for revenge."
Neal carefully levered himself up into a sitting position and Rodney
was there, hands fluttering as he tried to work out how to help without
hurting him. Neal raised an eyebrow, and Rodney backed off, looking
sheepish.
"Hovering," Neal stated as a matter of fact. "Look, I understand the
need for revenge. Believe me, I do. As well as obsession, the need to
find someone, or in your case, something to bring down Newman."
"But I wasn't here for you when you needed me," Rodney said morosely.
"When Kate died, when Mozzie was shot... I knew about them, but I
didn't contact you."
"You were keeping us safe by doing this alone."
"It didn't work, did it? You're hurt, and I wasn't there..."
"You're here now," Neal said quietly, emphatically. "And we're getting through this."
"I'm not good with people."
"You're better than you think you are," Neal said, and meant it. Rodney
had been there for him when they first met. Had known how to help him,
even if the help came in a gruff and offhand manner. Their friendship
wasn't perfect, they'd had their ups and downs, and Neal could never
totally trust Rodney - the same way he couldn't totally trust Mozzie,
though he trusted him more these days than he used to. Both Rodney and
Mozzie had a life outside of Neal, both involved in things he knew
nothing of and didn't want to know anything about. Mozzie was loyal,
but that loyalty had a limit and Neal feared one day that limit would
be reached and Mozzie would leave. Rodney was loyal - more than loyal,
he knew Rodney considered him as family - but again, difference of
opinions and stubbornness on both sides made Neal nervous. Family could
disown you and leave, and so Neal never let himself think of Rodney
that way. Just a friend, a good one, but one to hold lightly.
"You really don't blame me for this, do you?" Rodney said quietly, after a few moments of silence between them.
"No, I don't."
"Okay. I'll try not to blame myself, no promises though."
"And you'll quit it with the hovering?"
"Who's hovering?" Rodney said, an innocent look on his face. "Not me, not anymore."
Neal smiled, taking the small victory for what it was.
"But..."
"What?" Neal asked, suspiciously.
"Mozzie and I have been communicating by email and, well, he mentioned that Burke was looking into our past..."
"Rodney," Neal said, interrupting him. "I'm not telling Peter about my past."
"But..."
"No. You know about Carver, you know what he'll do, not just to me but
my friends as well." And Rodney did. Neal, aged 13, had gotten totally
and utterly drunk one night, and Rodney had taken advantage of the
situation to get the whole sorry story from him.
Neal had woken the next day with a horrible hangover. Then Rodney had
told him what had happened and that he knew about Carver. Neal had
stormed out, only to come back a week later after he'd calmed down.
Rodney had taught him a valuable lesson about not getting drunk - and
Neal never had gotten that drunk ever since.
Rodney sighed, looking pensive - and maybe a little uncomfortable. Neal closed his eyes briefly, knowing that look all too well.
"What did you do?" he asked.
"Um... Well, I know you told me to never look for Carver, but when I
was hacking into various databases for information on Newman I couldn't
help myself."
"Rodney."
"I know, I know, but... Carver's dead, Neal. He's dead and you need to
know that he will never hurt you or anyone you care about again. I
wanted to tell you, but I needed to take down Newman and then when I
saw you, we were surrounded by feds and..."
"He's dead?" Neal asked, interrupting Rodney's explanation, not able to take it in.
"Yes. He was operating as a gunrunner down in DC, under the name
Greaves. There was a raid on his operation seven years ago and he died
in the ensuing shoot out. Dental records and fingerprints confirmed him
as Carver."
"He's dead," Neal repeated, stunned. Then he laughed, until tears slid
down his face. All this time and Carver was dead. Dead and gone and no
longer a threat to him or those he cared about. All his fear, all his
worry, for nothing. The relief was overwhelming and it took a while for
him to gain control of his emotions.
"I guess there's no reason not to tell Burke now,"
Rodney said quietly, watching as Neal wiped his face with a
handkerchief.
"No," Neal replied, relief making him smile. "Other than to annoy him."
Rodney gave him one of his glares. Neal merely smiled in response.
"Thanks, Rodney."
-----
Peter looked at Neal; the bruises on his face were still stark, though
beginning to fade. He was still slightly hunched up, the rib taking
much longer to heal than the bruises. Maybe this wasn't a good time,
maybe he should leave Neal's past alone until Neal no longer looked
like a stiff wind could blow him over, but Neal had called him here to
talk and Peter wasn't going to let Neal change his mind.
"There's beer in the fridge," Neal said, staying on the couch and
leaving Peter to help himself. "I asked Moz to get some in. I'm still
on meds, so I guess I'm doing this without alcohol."
"You're sure you want to do this now?" Despite his intention of not
giving Neal an out, it seemed he couldn't help but offer one.
"No, I need to do this now or..." Neal trailed off, wincing as his rib reminded him of its displeasure.
"Or you might not be able to," Peter finished for him. "This really is a big thing for you, isn't it?"
"Yeah. Look, only Rodney knows about this, and he doesn't know all of
it. Wouldn't know what he does if I hadn't gotten drunk as a kid and
spilled it out to him." Neal smiled deprecatingly. "I've avoided
getting drunk like that ever since."
Peter sat himself on the chair opposite the couch, beer in hand.
"Maybe that's what I should do one day, get you drunk off your ass and start asking questions."
"That wouldn't be nice."
"No, so I'll resist the temptation. For now," Peter said with a smile, making himself comfortable.
"Thanks. I think."
"So, your past?"
Neal sighed, wincing again. "I guess starting before I was born is a good place to start."
Peter waited as Neal fell silent for a moment. Patience was often a
virtue when dealing with Neal and it was something he was working on.
"Okay. My mom was an artist who became a forger when her art didn't
take off. Her brother, Edward Carver, was a drug and gun runner, not
averse to killing anyone who got in his way. She didn't like him or
what he did, but he was family and she was afraid of him. Then my dad
turned up. He was a conman, art thief and all rounder charmer..."
"Why doesn't that surprise me?"
Neal shrugged. "I am my parents' son."
"You don't have to be," Peter said. Neal looked unconvinced. Peter
could only hope that time would prove to Neal that he could be better,
that he didn't have to con and steal and forge to survive. "So, what
happened next?"
"She fell for him, and he fell for her, and things were going fine
until her brother told my dad to get lost or get killed. They eloped
instead, got married in Las Vegas under new identities and then
travelled the country, pulling cons to survive. Things were good, and
then I was born and they started to move less often. Instead of staying
in one place for a few weeks, now they stayed a few months. Even so, it
wasn't easy for me. Always being the new kid in school, never staying
long enough to make friends. I learned to charm the bullies and
reinvent myself in each school I went to. Trying out new identities
despite having the same name. It was a game."
"A game you still play, but with different names."
"Yeah," Neal said with a wry smile. "When I was ten Carver found us. He
busted the front door of our home down, yelling and shouting. He
threatened my parents and they tried to talk him down, but he hated
them. Hated my mom for leaving the family business and my dad for
taking her away. Then he shot them both dead." Neal paused, hands
shaking.
"You were there?" Peter asked gently, appalled that Neal - that anyone - had witnessed something like this.
"Yeah. I hid behind the couch, but he knew I was there. He must have
seen me run behind it when he came in." Neal paused. There were tears
in his eyes, but somehow Neal was holding them back. "He took me with
him to LA, where he was based. I hated him, but he terrified me.
Threatened me with a slow death if I ever turned against him like my
mom had."
"You were a kid," Peter said, feeling sick. He could only imagine how
traumatising it must have been. He knew things like this happened in
the world, no FBI agent couldn't, but to know the person it had
happened to, for it to be Neal, made it worse.
"Which is why I did whatever he asked. I was scared and alone and... no
one was going to help me. He did a good job with his threats and lies."
Neal paused again, looking annoyed and sad. "He made me learn about
guns - makes, models and so on. He also made me learn how to shoot
them. I was made to practise every day, for hours, shooting at targets
until I got really good at it. I hated it. Mom and dad were against
violence, priding themselves on never resorting to it, always being
able to find other ways outs of situations. He was making me into
something that they would have hated, something that I hated. But I was
too scared to say no."
"That's how you got so good with guns. I've always wondered how someone who hates them so much was such a crack shot."
"Now you know."
"Were there other things he made you do?" Peter asked gently. He wanted
to know more, but part of him didn't want to push too hard.
"I was a go between, taking drugs to his contacts and bringing back the
money. I hated that as well - some of them looked at me in ways I
didn't like. But Carver kept me safe from the worst elements on the
street. I guess that's something."
Neal didn't look very impressed by it though. Peter was struggling to
imagine young Neal on the streets involved with drug dealers.
"Just before my twelfth birthday, Carver got one of his goons to bring
me to a warehouse on the docks. There were more goons there and a man
who' been beaten badly. Carver told me he was an undercover cop," Neal
swallowed, looking stricken before continuing in a quiet voice. "He
gave me a gun and told me to kill him."
"What?" Peter hadn't seen that coming. Carver was a real nasty piece of work to try and make a kid kill someone.
"I refused. Shooting targets was one thing, but a person? I couldn't do
it." Neal stopped, looking away and breathing heavily and wincing as it
hurt his rib.
"Neal," Peter stood, moving over to kneel in front of him. "Neal, it's okay."
"Sorry," Neal said quietly, beginning to hyperventilate, his face
looking pained. Peter had a horrible feeling that he was about to hear
something even worse, hard as that was to imagine. Peter put Neal's
hands into his own.
"Slow down your breathing," he said. "Come on, follow me. In, out. In,
out." Slowly Neal's breathing evened out, panic attack aborted. Peter
stood carefully, before sitting next to Neal, shoulders touching. He'd
not seen Neal like this since that time on the airstrip, after Kate's
death had sunk in. "It's okay. You don't have to go on."
"No, I need to."
"Okay." If Neal wanted to continue, Peter would listen and try to help him through it. "So what happened next?"
"Carver took my hand and..." Neal closed his eyes, clearly making a
conscious effort to keep his breathing even. "He killed the guy with
the gun in my hand."
Peter closed his eyes, feeling sick to his stomach and vowing to find Carver and make him pay.
"It was... I didn't..." Neal struggled to speak. "I know I didn't kill
the cop, it was Carver, but it felt like it. Still feels like it
sometimes."
"You know it wasn't your fault?"
"I know, but..."
"It doesn't always feel like it," Peter said, knowing Neal all too well. "I get it. Don't like it, but I get it."
"As soon as Carver and his goons turned their backs on me, I ran. There
was a cop car a block away and I remembered what my dad had said. That
sometimes turning to the cops was the best way to survive. I told them
about the dead cop, about where to find Carver, where to find evidence
of his operation. The cops sent SWAT in and they caught him red-handed,
the dead cop still in the building. I don't know what he told them, but
I fell back on the skills my parents taught me. Lied about what
happened in the warehouse, that I was merely a spectator."
Neal closed his eyes briefly and Peter could see he was struggling to
keep his calm. He wanted to say something, but wasn't sure what to say,
so instead gave Neal time to collect himself.
"I was good, but so were they," Neal said finally, after drawing a deep
breath. "My fingerprints were all over the gun, gunpowder residue on my
hands. But some of Carver's men told them what really happened, maybe
as part of a deal, I don't know. I kinda went into shock, which I guess
helped my case too. I ended up in a foster home for troubled teens."
"I'm sorry this happened to you. I wish I could have been there to help
you." Peter meant it, wishing he could have been there for Neal.
Neal smiled ruefully.
"The cop had a partner, a Lieutenant McGillion. He tried to help me turn my life around. Never really understood why."
"Maybe he saw something in you worth saving?" Peter suggested, making a note to look up McGillion, to assuage his curiosity.
"Maybe things could have worked out okay, if Carver had gone down."
Neal shrugged. "But he escaped and disappeared. I ran away as soon as I
heard, went to Chicago and started again. New name, new life. Ran into
Rodney and, not that I'll ever tell him this, he saved my life. He
helped me in so many ways without even realising it."
"You had both lost your parents in acts of violence," Peter said.
"Yeah. And he took no nonsense from me. I got drunk, he took advantage
to get a lot of my back story from me and then told me that's what
happens when you get so drunk you don't know what you're saying. I
never got drunk like that again. Stopped me from using alcohol as a way
to escape my feelings, becoming an alcoholic. Gave me the riot act
about drugs as well."
"Drugs?" Peter struggled to imagine Neal ever taking drugs.
"I may have, once, tried cannabis," Neal reluctantly admitted. "Rodney
found out and, well, the stuff he said about drugs and their effect on
our minds... It put me off trying anything like that again."
"Neal..." Peter started, and couldn't help sounding disappointed, even though it was long ago.
"I was a mess, Peter. I was trying to find ways to forget it all."
"And Rodney stopped you from self-destructing." Peter sighed, but
nodded, finally understanding how Rodney had saved Neal and being
grateful that Rodney had been there for him.
"Yes. But if you ever tell him any of this..."
"You'll deny it."
"He already has enough of a hold on me without giving him more ammunition."
Peter shook his head, smiling, before turning the subject back to Neal's uncle. "You think Carver is still looking for you?"
"I did. Which is why I didn't want to tell you. I knew you'd look into
him and I was scared of what he would do if he found me. He killed my
parents, and I wouldn't have put it past him to kill my friends too.
But he's dead. Rodney found out. I told him not to look, but apparently
he couldn't help himself." An exasperated laugh escaped Neal at that,
and Peter smiled, beginning to understand Rodney a little more. "But
Carver is dead, so..."
"So you can tell me," Peter finished, not sure whether to be glad that
Carver was dead. Part of him wanted to talk to Carver face to face and
make sure that he paid for what he'd done to Neal. The other part of
him was glad that Neal no longer had to run from the man.
"Yeah."
"Neal Caffrey isn't your original name."
"No. Paul Nicholas Baker, that's the name my parents gave me, but that's a long time ago now. I'm Neal."
"I'm glad you told me," Peter said genuinely. Neal smiled shakily.
"Does this become official?" Neal asked.
"When you're ready for it to be," Peter said. "Thank you. For telling
me." Despite all of Neal's secrets, his schemes, to know that
Neal would trust him with this meant a lot.
-----
Later that evening as Neal lay in bed, the conversation with Peter kept
going round and around his head, together with the memories. Talking
about it had reopened a lot of old wounds, leaving him feeling open and
vulnerable. Even now he could remember in intimate detail the bullet
hitting the cop, the way the blood had splattered over the body, the
smell of it. He shuddered where he lay.
What Neal hadn't told Peter was that his sadistic uncle had used his
finger to pull the trigger not once, but repeatedly, until all the
chambers were empty. The first bullet had killed the cop, but Neal
remembered all too well how the body had jerked with each hit, and Neal
could still feel the recoil of the gun in his hand. He knew,
intellectually, that he hadn't killed the cop, but there were times,
like this, when it still felt like he had.
The rest had been a blur. All he'd known was that he had to run, no
matter what the risk or cost - and he did run, as fast as he could. Had
still been running in some ways, even now.
Neal twisted on his bed, desperately trying to push the memories away,
only to have them replaced by Carver throwing his weight against their
front door and his mom screaming. He may have been hiding behind the
sofa, but he'd heard everything - the talking, the shouting, his mom
screaming after Carver shot his dad, the second gunshot - and
afterwards, when his uncle had pulled him from his hiding place, he had
seen his parents covered in blood, their sightless eyes staring up at
him.
Knowing that sleep would avoid him, and unable to stay in bed any
longer, Neal quickly changed into his jogging clothes, hoping to jog
away the pain. The jog became more like a run, as he pushed himself,
hoping for mind numbing exhaustion. His body protested, especially his
rib, but he pushed the pain away and concentrated on putting one foot
in front of another.
He'd run a lot as a child, running from bullies, running from one
scrape to another, and as he ran, the memories were still there, but he
was able to close the door on them, even if it was only partially.
Eventually he made it back home, his battered body and muscles
screaming for him to stop moving. He took some pain meds and showered,
before once again trying to sleep in the futile hope that he might
drift into a dreamless sleep. He knew that the memories would haunt him
for a while yet, but eventually he could hide them away again, only to
resurface in his darkest moments.
Neal knew he was in a better place now than he was back then. He had
friends now - or what the prison psychologist would have called his
'support group'. Neal couldn't help wonder what the psychologist would
have made of Mozzie, and with his mind on other thoughts, Neal
eventually fell into a fitful asleep.
-----
Chapter 10 - Welcome to the Neighbourhood
Two months later
"I've bought a house!" Rodney entered Neal's apartment without knocking, sounding excited and carrying a laptop.
Neal inwardly sighed, there were times his apartment felt like Grand
Central station. Mozzie had been and gone, after demolishing a bottle
of wine, and then Peter had arrived, wanting to show him some photos of
art that had been recovered at a crime scene and now, oh look, here was
Rodney barging his way in without any warning.
"Hello, Rodney," Neal said pointedly, trying to ignore the way Peter was quickly sweeping the pictures back into the case file.
"Yes, yes, hello and all that," Rodney waved Neal's comment away. "I
thought you'd want to know that you can visit me once I've moved in."
"Found somewhere within Neal's radius, then?" Peter asked curiously.
"Well, technically it's outside his radius, but I don't think it will
be a problem. I bought this house in Brooklyn that's been sitting on
the market for a few weeks. Nice people, interesting neighbours. One of
them is a FBI agent..."
"No," Neal said suddenly realising where Rodney meant and bursting out laughing.
"You bought the house next door to me?" Peter asked incredulously.
"I'm sure the Marshals won't mind if Neal visits me there. I mean, your
house is already exempt, surely the one next door can be too?" Rodney
asked, though it came across as more of a statement than a question.
"They might not agree," Peter warned.
"Oh, well, in that case I guess I'll be visiting my new neighbours a lot..."
"But I'm sure they will," Peter added quickly.
Neal laughed again. The look on Peter's face at the thought of Rodney popping round on a regular basis was just priceless.
"Stop laughing," Peter ordered, pointing his finger at him.
Neal reined himself in, grinning broadly at Rodney. "And you couldn't find anywhere within my radius that was better?"
"I like Brooklyn," Rodney defended. "And houses of that size around
here are pricey. I could afford it, I've made a nice profit on the
warehouse loft and the house on Long Island, but really, why pay more
than you have to?"
"Great," Peter muttered.
"Hey, how does your dog get on with cats?"
"Satchmo doesn't understand that cats are supposed to be his enemy.
El's sister has a cat and Satch lets it walk all over him, literally
and figuratively."
"Oh good. Two of my ruffians like friendly dogs, the other, well, he'll just keep his distance." Rodney smiled, smug and happy.
Was that a groan Neal heard from Peter?
"I'm sure Rodney will be the perfect neighbour," Neal said, not trying in the slightest to hide the amusement in his voice.
"Yeah. Well, can't wait to tell El," Peter said, taking that as an
excuse to make a hasty retreat. Neal couldn't help but snicker at
Peter's retreating back.
"Of course it needs renovating and redecorating. I'm thinking of taking
a couple of walls down. I've got the blueprints on here," Rodney said,
putting the laptop down and booting it up. "Which colour do you think
would best for the master suite? I was thinking maybe gold fittings for
the bathroom, green for the bedroom wall..."
Neal grimaced, knowing he was in for a long night.
The End
If you want to see Rodney McKay wearing the 'I'm with genius' t-shirt, I have a behind the scenes photo uploaded here.
If you want to see a cute gif of a cat tackle-glomping a labrador - something I foresee in Satchmo's future! - go here.
