A.N.- Set a long time in the past. This does not follow along with the storyline (except for the third chapter), so if you're looking for time reference, let's say like season 2, like 2010. This will probably be the longest story of this three-shot.
Tired. And cold. Cold and tired. That's all he knew. That's all he should know, honestly. Walking down the icy streets of New York at 6 A.M. tended to do that to people. But not Neal, typically that is. It probably just had to do something with the fact that today was Christmas Eve. Yeah, that pretty much did him in the moment he saw the calendar. But it should not have been any different than any other Friday out of the year.
This Christmas Eve was pretty much just the same as the last three. Mozzie, the only person next to June who still considered Neal family (in his mind, at least), had gone to Florida instead of staying in New York. Something about "needing the heat" and getting away from "The Man". Plus, he said he needed to get out of town for some reason that Neal would be better off not knowing about. Neal kind of tuned out the shorter man when he was on his tangent. They two had decided to skip presents this year. June was in California with her granddaughter sightseeing and enjoying the weather.
So, that left Neal. And after his bone-chilling walk to the office, he was silently dreading the work day to come. Surprisingly enough however, no work came. The group worked on filing and boxing up the latest case then moved on to cold cases, finishing most up around two in the afternoon.
Neal could not really focus on the paperwork in front of him. His mind kept drifting off to his Christmas present to Peter. It was two things; one, to catch him up on all of his paperwork, without him knowing of course; and two, a pair of tickets to the Yankees, front row and right behind home plate of course. Could not have anything less than the best for Peter. For El, Neal had gotten a pair of tickets to a museum opening in upstate New York. Could not have anything less than the classiest for Elizabeth. The three gifts were small enough that he could tuck them into his work suit and no one would notice a thing.
*********
It had been a phenomenal day for Special Agent Peter Burke. It was Christmas Eve, and he decided to let the team off three hours early. He forced himself to believe he had made the decision based on the fact there was a huge snowstorm blowing in, and it would be for everyone's safety to get home sooner rather than later. In all reality, it probably had something to do with the fact that there were absolutely no new cases; he was bored to tears and did not want to complete his large stack of paperwork leftover from the past, and he really wanted to get home for dinner with El. His sweet and wonderful wife.
The moment he made the announcement, all but two people scurried out the door; himself and Neal. He walked over to the CI and stood in front of his desk.
"Caffrey."
"Hm?" The man quietly replied. He was filling out one of his final reports. Peter felt a pang of shame, how could Neal be more productive than he had been? However, he pushed it down and made himself remember why he was there.
"What're you doing tonight?"
Neal was not caught off guard by the question. For the past three years he had been evading the annual Christmas Eve dinner with the Burkes. It was not that he did not enjoy the two, quite the opposite really, he just could not help but feel guilty when he intruded on them. Christmas is for family. "June is hosting a wonderful dinner with her granddaughter and invited me. Why?" He smoothly lied.
"Oh. Just wondering." Peter said with a dismissive hand. He stood up and pulled his coat on.
"When are you heading out for the night?"
"As soon as I grab my keys." He stated while heading back to his office.
"Cool." Neal muttered to himself, dotting his final i's and crossing his t's. He kept the file open and flipped back to the beginning, pretending to still be engrossed in the contents.
Peter began to walk towards the door that lead out of the office. "Need a ride?"
Neal glanced out the window behind him. "Uh, nah. It's not that bad yet, I'll just walk."
Peter stopped in his tracks and gave a disapproving glare. "Neal," he said in a warning tone.
"Peter." Neal mocked, the same glare etched on his face, but his with a glint of tease in his eyes.
The agent in question paused, trying to formulate a response, but gave in with a sigh. "Fine. Just- get out of here soon." He glanced out the window behind Neal, fat snowflakes beginning to fall down. "That storm is blowing in fast."
"Your concern is touching." Peters glare made Neal shrink back a bit. "Don't worry, okay? I'll be gone soon. Just have to tie up some loose ends."
Peter gave the don't-get-into-any-trouble look and finally left the office. Neal heaved a sigh of relief.
"Time to get to work." Neal muttered to himself, making his way to Burkes' office. He reached for the doorknob, only to discover that it was locked. "Silly, silly Peter." He sauntered over to Diana's desk, and slid open the drawer where he knew she kept her bobby pins. In seventeen seconds, a new personal record, he had the door open and the files out. He exited the small room, files in hand, and pulled the door shut behind him.
Neal slaved away over the paperwork, wishing upon a star that the endless pile would somehow manage to do itself. How Peter had gotten stuck with the most boring cases, Neal would never know. He had to pause often in his labors to rub his eyes, and even to turn on the lamp next to his desk, the only light in the entire office now. The sun had quickly disappeared and the snow was falling now, winds howling right behind his desk.
When the CI heard the elevator ding, his stomach dropped three floors and he felt his eyes open big in shock. He quickly jumped under his desk. Silently, he scolded himself for such a childish reaction, but it was for good reason.
Peter Burke walked with purpose through the nearly pitch-black office. Taking the stairs two at a time, he was at his office door in the blink of an eye. He placed one hand on the handle and the other in his coat pocket to pull his keys out. Something made him stop though; the fact that the handle was loose made his eyebrow arch and he pulled the door open.
Thought I locked it. Peter thought to himself. He glanced around behind him, getting an eerie feeling that made the hairs on his neck stand up on end. Wonder what Caffrey's doing. He retrieved what he had come back to the office for, then slowly began to walk out, stopping at the top of the stairs. There was a lone light on in the entire office, and it was the light located on Neal's desk. It seemed to be bright as ever. A half-smile appeared on Peter's face, and he returned to his office.
He picked up the phone and dialed Elizabeth's number. "Hi hon," he whispered after she picked up. "We might actually have that guest we talked about." She replied by telling him that she would have another place set at the table, quickly adding a "be safe on the drive home" before hanging up.
Peter quietly padded down the stairs and over to Neal's desk, plucking up a certain black fedora on the way. He stood in front of the workspace for a few seconds, glancing down at what was left. One lone file was opened and it's contents were splayed across it. James Bader the title stated. This was one of my files. Peter thought as he walked around to the other side of the desk and sat down in the chair. He immediately looked down to see a pair of bright blue eyes staring back at him in shock in the dim light.
Peter pursed his lips after a slight stare down between the two men. "What're you doing?"
"How did you know?" Neal quipped after a sigh, not moving from his scrunched up position.
"You're light was the only one on in the entire office."
"And that led you to sitting in the chair?"
"That, and you never leave this behind, do you?" He gently tossed down the hat to him with a spin. "Not your smoothest con. Are we really getting that sloppy?"
Neal smirked. "You wish." He began to climb out from underneath the desk. Peter shifted the chair back to give him room, but did not stand up.
"So you're doing my work, huh?" A playful smile on his lips.
Neal was faced away from the light by looking down at the floor, that way the older man could not see the flush on his cheeks. "It was supposed to be part of your Christmas present." He picked the fedora up and placed it on his head with as much grace as usual. "Surprise."
"Oh." Peter's smile dropped as a small amount of guilt set in the pit of his stomach. "Regardless, come on. It's five; call it a night. I'll give you a ride home."
"Don't worry about it Peter, the weather isn't that bad yet."
"I beg to differ." He gestured to the window. Snow was falling down at a heavy rate, and then wind blew it about like paper in a tornado. With that, the two men exited the building, and began the drive home. It was completely and utterly silent until the driver made a move that confused the other.
"You should've turned right back there to get to June's." Neal stated, jutting his thumb in the correct direction.
"I know." Peter's eyes never left the road and his hands never left the steering wheel.
Neal cocked an eyebrow and faced forward, watching the thick snow blow viciously onto the windshield with no remorse. "How am I getting home then?"
"You'll see." Neal rolled his eyes at his response. He hated when Peter was ambiguous.
It was not long before they pulled up in front of the Burke's home. Peter cut the power on the vehicle and climbed out, with his partner following in suite. A small smile appeared on Neal's lips at what was happening.
"Come on Caffrey." Peter stated, grabbing Neal's arm after he had crossed the car and the con had shoved his hands in his pockets. He gingerly stepped further onto the sidewalk. "You're not letting this old man fall."
"You're not old." Neal said with a laugh.
They were in the clearing for the house. Peter released the arm of the man standing next to him, and put a hand on the rail. Neal left his hands in his pockets. "Finally to safety." The older man said with a laugh.
Peter slowly placed his foot on the fourth step, just for it to swing out under him after landing on a thick patch of ice. Neal watched in slow motion as his friend toppled backwards, and fell against him, shoving him to the ground. Neal thrashed, trying to get his hands out of his pockets to catch him from the fall, but to no avail. His head cracked against the pavement, and his breath rushed out of his body when a heavy object landed on top of his body.
He must of blacked out for a few seconds, because the object was too soon off of his body, he was staring at the snowing sky, and there was a feminine voice. "Peter! Oh my God, are you okay? Neal!" She sounded miles away for some reason. He continued staring at the snow, flakes large and small coating his hair and eye lashes.
"Careful hon, the fourth step is total ice." The muffled and warped sound of Peters voice resonated in his ears. "Just stay there."
Neal's muddled mind barely connected the realization that he was being shook by Peter. "Come on Caffrey. Let's get inside."
He hauled himself up, closing his eyes momentarily to try and stop the dizziness. The two made it up the stairs and into the house without any other incidents.
Dinner was wonderful going down. Conversations were light hearted and fun, and the food was absolutely divine. But the pounding in Neal's head was becoming impossible to ignore and it was slowly but surely becoming more and more unbearable, and now that headache was messing with his all-too-full stomach. The man had done an astonishing job at acting fine, although Elizabeth kept asking if he was okay. It was not until they began watching Home Alone (according to Elizabeth, the only decent Christmas movie on right now) that he finally got up the courage to do something about it.
"Restroom." Neal simply stated in response to the inquisitive glances he received. He quickly walked over to the stairs and up them, stopping just close enough to the top that they could no longer see his figure, and he knelt down on the top step and put his head in his hands, willing the black spots that were dancing in front of his vision to dissipate.
While finishing his trek to the bathroom, Neal had to use the wall for assistance. His legs did not want to co-operate and the closer he got to the small room the bigger the spots in his line of sight. He let out a quiet sigh when he stumbled into the room and quietly shut the door with a click behind him, leaning against it. Turning on the light, he winced at the brightness of the fluorescent bulbs. He padded over to the toilet and sat down on the closed seat, putting his head between his knees to get some blood flowing back to where he desperately needed it to be.
Neal sat up slowly and inhaled and exhaled, but the screaming in his head and the churning in his stomach was not a good combination not matter what he did to quell it; and in one fell swoop, he had turned on the faucet to the highest setting and was on his knees in front of the now open toilet emptying the contents of his stomach.
After he flushed the toilet and got to a somewhat steady position leaning on the sink, he stared into the mirror for a few moments, taking in his rough appearance. Neal tried to force thoughts to coherently pass through his muddled and pounding head. Nausea, dizziness, and a never-ending headache. Sounds like I have a concussion. Wonderful. Prior to rummaging through the medicine cabinet to find a bottle of Advil, he turned the faucet down to a lower setting. Pouring out three of the capsules into his open palm, he placed the bottle back to its original location, shutting the cabinet. He tossed back the tablets and filled his hands with water to get them to go down. He splashed some of the cold water on his face and dried off, adjusting his suit and hair before heading back downstairs.
The second his foot hit the bottom stair, he knew he would be in for a rough night. "You okay, Neal?" Elizabeth questioned, taking in his look. It was pristine, almost too perfect. The two remained in their place on the couch though, with Peters arms wrapped around her waist and she leaning against him.
He plastered on his award-winning smile. "Yeah, why?" He knew he needed to keep his responses short and simple.
She tilted her head slightly. "You sure?"
He just nodded in response, taking his place on the other couch. They continued the rest of the movie and started the next one: The Polar Express. Neal silently thanked whoever would listen that El had chosen ABC Family for their Christmas Eve movies, for they rarely ever played It's a Wonderful Life; he had worried coming in to this that if they did, he would not be able to handle it. His mind drifted away from the movie, and he ended up staring at the Christmas tree that was wonderfully lit and, now that the medication had kicked in, not that painful to look at. His thoughts varied all over the place, but eventually it landed on who he was spending this holiday with. He could not believe that these two wonderful people would take him in like this. That is when the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. You have overstayed your welcome. Leave as soon as possible. The clock chimed at midnight, and a small smile crept its way on to Neal's face when both Elizabeth and Peter jerked awake, but Satchmo could not be bothered to even open his eyes.
"Wow, it's that late?" Elizabeth commented with a yawn and a stretch, jostling the dog enough to wake him.
"How long were we out?" Peter asked, rubbing his eyes then facing Neal.
"A while." Neal said with a light laugh.
Elizabeth turned around to face the window. "Oh, that storm is really ripping, huh?"
"Yeah. I couldn't believe it could get any worse but it just kept going." Neal stood up, stretched, and used the side of the couch to guide him over to the front door where his coat was hanging.
"Excuse me, Neal. Where do you think your going?" Elizabeth continued, her voice still thick with sleep.
"Home?" He inwardly cursed himself for making it more of a question then a statement.
She was wide awake at that. "No you most certainly are not. Not with the weather like it is."
Neal looked at Peter for help, who was turning off the TV.
"Sorry buddy, she makes the rules." He replied to the helpless look with a shrug and a smile.
Elizabeth smiled at her husbands response. "You know where the guest bedroom is, there is an extra pair of sweats for you to sleep in." She began to walk up the stairs, Peter following right behind.
Neal put his coat back on the hook, another small smile now dancing on his lips. "Thanks, and Merry Christmas." He murmured the latter part.
Elizabeth stopped in her walking up the stairs and turned to look down at Neal. "No one should be alone on Christmas." She gave him a smile, and there was a twinkle of sadness in her eyes.
He could not make eye contact with either of them as they finished walking up the stairs.
Neal set an alarm every hour to make sure the concussion did not knock him out for good. Around 6 in the morning, he got tired of waking up and decided to get up for good. After retrieving some more Advil, he quietly padded downstairs to the kitchen, started up some coffee, and placed his gifts under the Christmas tree next to a few presents already there. One specific beautifully wrapped box caught his eye, primarily because it had the name Neal attached to it.
He smiled, and decided to do add little more to the Burke's present. They had done so much for him, it's time he returned the favor. He went upstairs, put on another pair of sweats, returned back downstairs, and rummaged through the closet near the doorway for a large coat and a pair of boots and gloves. Lucky for him, they were just his size, if not a little bigger. He took a glance downwards at his appearance. He looked like a burnt marshmallow, but it would have to do. Neal grabbed the snow shovel placed on the shelf above, and headed outside to begin his work.
It was an hour and a half or so later when he was halted in his labors. "Neal Caffrey!" A voice resonated through his frozen ears. He looked up to see Peter, standing in his robe in the doorway.
"What?"
"What're you doing?"
Neal looked at the snow shovel in his hand and gestured to it. "What does it look like I'm doing?" It would not be that bad of a response, if Neal's teeth would just stop chattering.
Peter rolled his eyes. "Get in here!"
Neal followed the orders, dropping off the boots in the doorway as to not trace in any snow. Elizabeth helped him peel off the rest of the layers.
"Why are you shoveling us out?" Elizabeth asked, hanging up the coat and gloves. "There's gotta be at least a foot if not two of snow on the ground!"
He put his hand to his temple, gently rubbing. He eventually managed, through chattering teeth, to spit out the word "present".
"Well thanks, but that was not necessary, especially with the freezing temperatures." Peter gestured Neal to come into the living room where the tree was. "Come on, let's warm you up and open some presents!"
Neal squinted harder the more he walked into the house. "Why is it so bright in here?"
"It's not." Peter replied with a questioning tone.
They all sat down and began opening gifts. Neal kept rubbing his head, for a headache was beginning to form again. He did not want to make a scene about it though, and he continued to try and convince himself that it was the fact that he went from the extreme cold temperatures outside to the warm house inside.
Elizabeth and Peter were on the floor at Neal's feet, playing with some Lego's that she thought Peter would enjoy building. Satchmo jumped up and laid his head on Neal's leg, sighing.
"Aw good boy, Satch!" She looked up at the the blue-eyed man, whose face was in his hands. "Neal, sweetie, what's wrong?" Elizabeth's concerning voice asked as she place a hand on his knee.
He nearly jumped at the physical touch. The lack of sleep seemed to make him very sensitive to nearly everything. He dropped his hands and forced that smile on to his face. "Nothing!" He quickly covered.
"Don't lie to me. You're face is still very flush!"
It only took Peter ten seconds to connect the dots. The rubbing of his temples, the light bulbs, the mysterious fact that he turned on the faucet when he went to the restroom the night before- he looked over at his partner. "You have a concussion, don't you?"
Neal paused, pursing his lips, then finally held out his index and his thumb, holding them about an inch apart. "Just like this much of one."
