Neal sat back in the uncomfortable wooden chair, staring at the ceiling.
"It would only be for a few nights...I understand you're not on the list anymore, but with the storm we can't access our current database...I understand...yes...goodnight."
The haggard woman across the desk from him slammed the phone down and sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly. She reached for the stack of crumpled papers on the desk and flipped through them, not sparing a glance for the teen slumped across from her. Muttering to herself, she stopped on a piece of paper before carefully entering the number into her phone.
"Mrs. Burke? I'm sorry to call you so late..."
Neal tuned out the voice but kept one ear on the conversation, as he always did. Being aware of his surroundings was one of the reasons he was so successful on the streets - until recently, that is. Neal supposed his stroke of bad luck had started when Mozzie left town a few weeks back. Since then it had been one thing after another and now he was exhausted, hungry, and his ribs were smarting with every breath.
Any other day and Neal would be gone from the dreary social worker's office in an instant but he couldn't bring himself to go anywhere. It was freezing outside, with rain coming down in icy sheets. He hadn't eaten in close to two days and didn't have a clue where he could find a warm place to sleep so, for the moment, emergency placement in a foster home seemed to be his best option, and even that wasn't looking good. The storm had knocked out the internet, so his social worker was forced to use their outdated filing system. So far she had been unable to get in contact with any families currently fostering, nonetheless one willing to take in a delinquent teenager.
"Yes, ma'am, I would be happy to talk to your husband...Hello, Mr. Burke...Agent Burke, I'm sorry."
Neal looked up in alarm. Agent? Any profession that garnered that title didn't sit well with him.
"Like I was telling your wife, I've got a kid here that we're trying to place. I'm almost out of options; if I can't find a placement I'm going to have to take him to a group home until we can locate his next of kin."
There were so many things wrong with that sentence. First, Neal wouldn't go to a group home. He knew she wasn't talking about just any home, but the home for troubled teens located practically across the city. Neal had been there before and he was not going back. Second, he would rather sleep in a dumpster than be reunited with his 'next of kin.'
"Yes, sir, it will only be for a couple of days. A week at most," she paused to let the man on the other end of the line reply. "I'm required to tell you that we were called when Neal was turned in for pick pocketing. The victim decided not to press charges."
Neal scoffed at that. The only reason the 'victim' wasn't pressing charges was because he had knocked Neal around a little too much to be deemed self defense.
"I assure you, Neal is of no threat to you or your wife."
Closing his eyes, Neal decided he should start thinking about running. It was sounding like he was out of luck for the night, so he would have to go before Miss Martha got him in the car to go to the group home. There was a police escort outside of the office due to his status as a flight risk, but it would be easy enough to slip past him. The problem would be where to go once he was out. His first priority would be food. His stomach felt like it was eating itself, and he slipped one arm around his midsection at the thought. Maybe he could charm a late night waitress into a free burger or something.
"Oh thank you, Agent Burke. I appreciate it so much and I know Neal does too. I'll bring all the appropriate paperwork...we should be there within the hour."
So they were taking him? That was a surprise. Neal couldn't decide if he was grateful or wary at the thought. At this point, all he wanted to do was binge eat and curl up to sleep for the next week. A couple of Advil would be a welcome relief if he could nick them from the medicine cabinet.
Hanging up the phone, Miss Martha started gathering her various papers and files and sticking them into her over the shoulder bag. Rummaging through a file cabinet, she pulled a few more sheets before finally looking up at Neal.
"You're in luck, kid. Ready to go?"
"Sure thing," Neal responded smoothly. He stood and stretched, covering the sound of his rumbling stomach with a huge yawn. "Agent Burke, huh?"
"Yes. Special Agent Burke of the FBI. So no shenanigans, got it?"
"I would never."
Miss Martha snorted and, though she looked exasperated, there was a fondness in her eyes. "Of course you wouldn't, Nick."
Neal had the decency to blush a little. He had tried to pass off as his alter ego Nick Halden on arrest, but he was unfortunately recognized by one of the officers from a previous run in. He really was losing his touch. They exited the building together, Neal with a backpack slung casually over one shoulder. He hid a shiver and stuck his hands deep into the pockets of his hooded sweatshirt.
oOo
Elizabeth and Peter Burke were curled up together on the couch in their bedclothes, fingers intertwined as they watched a movie when the phone rang. It was past ten o'clock and they shared a quizzical look before Elizabeth reached for the wireless phone on the end table. It was unusual for someone to call their house phone so late; if it was work then they would have tried Peter's cell phone first. He quickly dug the electronic from his pocket-no missed calls.
"Elizabeth Burke speaking." She listened for a few moments. Biting her lip nervously, she glanced at Peter before looking away. "Oh dear, I'm afraid that we had ourselves removed from the list a while back. We haven't fostered in almost a year." At that, Peter's heart jumped in his chest. No. Absolutely not.
"Elizabeth, give me the phone," he held his hand out. She met his eyes but ignored him.
"So this is really his last chance before the group home?" She paused again, listening intently. "One second and I'll let you talk to my husband."
She covered the mouthpiece to the phone but held it out of Peter's reaching grasp.
"Peter, listen."
"No. How do they still have our number?"
"I don't know, Peter. But I think it's about time we moved on. You know how quiet it is around here when you're gone."
"Exactly. When I'm gone. I'm not about to leave you here alone with one of these kids again!"
"Please, hon. I want to do this. He doesn't have anywhere else to go." She gazed at him with her big blue eyes and Peter couldn't help but feel himself relenting. "I need to get over this. Do it for me?" Trust Elizabeth to say the only thing in the world that could change his mind.
"Fine," Peter sighed in exasperation. "Give me the phone."
Peter hastily corrected the woman when she referred to him as 'Mr.' Burke. Let it be known that he was an agent of the FBI, damnit, and no funny business was going to happen in his home. He almost hung up when the social worker mentioned the kid was a thief, but one look at Elizabeth's pleading face had him gritting his teeth and agreeing. He would keep a close eye on him, that was for sure.
When they were first married, Peter and Elizabeth agreed that they wanted a big family but as the years went on with no children, their goals changed and they were content with just each other. Their careers were both time consuming and fulfilling, but Elizabeth wished more and more for company on the long days she worked from home.
They became an emergency placement foster home to help fill the void. It went wonderfully for a few months, Elizabeth doting on every kid that walked through their doors. One night a 17 year old was ushered in with a black eye and split lip, straight from an abusive home situation. Elizabeth fussed over him like any other and set him up in the guest bedroom with a heavy comforter and an ice pack. The next day, after Peter had left for work, she walked in on him dumping their nicest silver into his book bag. Peter found her on the floor hours later, bruised to hell and confused from a blow to the head that had knocked her out.
The boy was found and sent to a juvenile detention facility a few days later, but it shook her up enough to allow Peter to remove them from the program. Elizabeth received two threatening letters in the mail before Peter demanded a restraining order, and they hadn't heard from him since.
They rarely talked about it anymore, but still some nights Elizabeth woke in the night, sweating and scared and Peter would wrap his arms around her and whisper in her ear until she fell back into a peaceful sleep.
That was why Peter couldn't believe he agreed to this so readily. His wife was still clearly suffering from the aftereffects of a traumatic event, and here he was signing them up for it to happen again. If Elizabeth thought this was what she needed to help her heal, then Peter wasn't going to stop her. But he would make sure that she didn't spend even a moment alone with the kid. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
Glancing at his watch, Peter stood and stretched, reaching down a hand to pull Elizabeth to her feet as well.
"You sure you're ready for this, El?"
His wife gave him a shaky smile. "I'm sure. I think this is what I need to finally put everything behind me."
Peter studied her. She looked a little shaken but her eyes were sure. "Let's go get the guest room ready, then."
oOo
Let me know what you guys thought :) In other news, it's been AGES since I've been on this site. I just re-read my old stories and have decided to work on some updates for those as well (even though it's been over a year. yikes). Coming soon.