Written for the Literate Union #1 General Writers Challenge. Betaed by Melissa.
"Fabulous dinner, Elizabeth." Neal comments as she returns from the kitchen carrying the dessert plates.
"Don't say that until you've had the cake." Elizabeth responds, while placing a plate in front of him.
"Gourmet dessert too? What's the occasion?" Neal asks, half joking as he digs into his piece.
"It's my bimonthly reminder to keep Peter over here coming home to dinner." She laughs, nudging her husband in the ribs.
"Ha ha ha. Very funny you two. But kidding aside I will admit this has been a near perfect day."
"Yeah except for the virtual monsoon outside." Neal points out.
Peter scowls. "You're overreacting it's just" A clap of thunder and the room goes dark.
"Knocked the power out," Neal finishes for him, with a smirk that Peter can't see but feels through the darkness. In response, Peter kicks his partner under the table. "Hey!"
"Boys enough."
"Yes dear."
"Yes Elizabeth."
"That's better. Now help me find a candle."
There is general fumbling around in the dark, as the three hunt blindly for a candle, until a flicker of light appears in front of Neal's face. "Got one."
Peter sulks a bit. "How did you do that so quickly? It isn't even your house."
"First I'm here a lot. And second, I may have spent a significant portion of time in lower lighting. Allegedly."
"Working on your publishing talents, no doubt." Both men share a look.
"I gather there's something I've missed. Care to fill me in?"
"Perhaps I should be getting on home to June's now? I do like candlelight dinners, but you aren't exactly my first choice for a romantic evening, Peter. No offense."
Elizabeth can't help but giggle which sets off both Neal and Peter. When things quiet down she's the first to speak. "Neal you can't leave now. There's a blackout, besides it pouring. You're bound to catch something."
"But it's only half past seven, what will we do to pass the time?"
"I can tell you the story of how I was almost pulled off your case, Neal. It'll even explain my publishing comment earlier for Elizabeth."
"Then I'm in" Elizabeth says, intrigued.
"Sounds like you've got an audience," agrees Neal.
"Well it all started a few years ago, during a lunch date with Elle...
"Peter, Peter." Elizabeth was just about to try the classic hand wave in front of her husband's eyes when he looked up. "Did you hear a word I've said?"
"You were telling me about your day?" Peter ventured, his gaze already drifting to the file in his lap.
"Okay." Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest. "What about my day?"
"It was...nice? I don't know." Peter admitted, defeated.
"That's what I thought. Give me the file," she said, reached over, pulled it from his lap, and tucked it next to her chair.
"But we just made a breakthrough in the James Bonds' case."
"I don't care. I'm tried of eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner with you and James. For once, I'd like to eat a quiet meal with Peter Burke, my husband. The file is staying put until" She was cut off by the buzzing of her phone in her bag, she pulled it out souring further with a glance at the display. "Lunch is over. My hour is up."
"I really am sorry Honey."
"It's okay," she said returning the file. "I knew what I was getting myself into." She gathered her things, pulling on her jacket, and asked as she got up from the table, "I take it I won't be seeing you for dinner?"
"Probably not."
"Just be sure to come home to get some rest okay? I don't want you falling asleep at your desk again tonight."
"You're the best, Elle."
Elizabeth smiled, walking off to her day and Peter sipped his coffee returning his concentration to the case file. The clues were right here somewhere. He knew it. He just had to see what he'd been missing. The sound of his own phone ranging snaps him free from his thoughts. Did Elle leave something? He withdraws his phone. Well it wasn't a number he recognized. He answered the call.
"Agent Burke."
"Always so formal, why can't it just be Peter and Neal? Your other friends call you Peter."
"We aren't friends." Peter began sending a text to other agents to be sure someone else would pick this call and if they were lucky start a trace.
"I'm wounded, Agent Burke. And is that texting I hear? You wouldn't be trying to trace this call now, would you? Such a shame, I'll have to cut this a lot shorter than I wanted to."
Peter could practically hear his pout through the phone. He abandoned his text message. Better to keep Caffrey talking. "Or we could just meet in person."
"Oh but we are. I considered joining you and Elizabeth for lunch. Since you seem to be fond of mixing business and pleasure."
"Leave my wife out of this." His tone was tense and clipped as he stood from the table scanning the upper portions of the restaurant for his elusive caller.
"See? That's exactly why I didn't come to lunch. Well, I must be going. Until next time." And the line went dead, the annoying sound of dial tone rang loudly in one ear. He scribbled the number into his notes, and following protocol, tried the number back.
"The number you have reached is no longer..." came the operator voice after a few rings. He shut the phone harshly, slugged the rest of his coffee, and headed back to the office.
"I'm having trouble seeing where this is going" complains Neal, "reliving an old conversation may have been fun, but did you have to pick something so mundane?"
"And what does this have to do with Neal and publishing?"
"I'm getting there. Hold your horses, cowboy. Now then later that day...
"Burke. Go home." Reese Hughes said as he passed the Agent's desk.
"Are you sure, Sir? I could put in a little more time on this case, Sir."
"I am quite sure Agent. It is 7 pm. This case will be no closer to being closed if you say here all night than if you just pick it up tomorrow morning. Now, go."
Peter nodded. 7 pm, where had this last chunk of day gone? There was the mortgage fraud case he'd gone through and he did attend a meeting at 3...who was he kidding? Another day of his life had been lost to Neal Caffrey aka James Bonds and he'd never get it back.
The very next morning, Hughes gave Peter the classic two finger point on his way to his desk. "Looks like I'm being called," Peter muttered to no one in particular, and he ascends the stairs to Hughes's office. When he arrived, Reese Hughes was pacing back and forth, his features drawn and tired, and Peter knew immediately that the older man has been wrestling with a decision. "Sit, Burke," barks the older of the two.
Peter does as told and waits somewhat impatiently, though he hopes it doesn't show, for more information. "Sir?"
"You're good man, Burke. And a good agent."
"Thank you, Sir." Peter began but Hughes waves off further comment as his continues.
"And that's why I don't want to take offense when I inform you we're shelving that bond forgery, art thief case you've been working on."
"But-" Peter knew better than to argue, this was the sort of decision a department head made all the time. But this was his case and he was not letting all of his hard work go to waste.
"What is it Agent?"
"We just made the discovery of that contact."
"A dead acquaintance is not enough to sustain any more manpower and money on this case. You tried, I'm sorry."
"What if I said I had a new lead?"
"I'd ask why you've been keeping secrets from the Bureau."
"I just found it a few hours ago, Sir. I'll need a little time time to investigate before I start giving out bad information."
"You have three days, Agent Burke. I expect a full briefing Thursday."
"You won't be disappointed, Sir."
"I better not be."
"And with that I was dismissed. And scrambling." Peter pauses taking a sip of water.
"What do you mean? What was the new lead?" Elizabeth asks.
"I didn't have one."
Lying to your boss, even before me. I'm impressed." Neal smiles. "Mozzie always said there's a bit of a conman in everyone. I guess we found yours."
"Perhaps I was channeling you."
"But wait, then how did Neal's case stay open?"
"We have Neal to thank for that."
"Me? How?"
"Well that Wednesday I received my office mail..."
"Mail call!" Greeted a younger agent, while dropping a handful of letters on Peter's desk.
"Thanks," Peter replied, though Peter never even looked up to see who it was.
"No problem. I was getting mine anyway and saw yours still in the box. Besides, it got me an extra minute away from paperwork." Whomever it was walked away. It was then Peter looked it over. A memo in writing. Advertisement. A reminder to look over my insurance. And a postcard. Peter read through the rest of it, and then examined the postcard carefully. Peter didn't know anyone on vacation.
It read: Spend more time with your wife, I'd hate to break up a marriage. P.S. The term forging is so ugly, couldn't we use the word publishing instead? Love, Neal.
"And that gave me the right idea for the briefing. I used the postcard to convince everyone to look into any sector of the publishing industry. Books, magazines, music, newspapers. If someone so much as printed a pack of baseball cards, the FBI was there. Meanwhile, I looked at what I hoped was the double entendre in your message. I hoped the real insight was that first half. My hunch was that only a man in love could be concerned about were I stood with my wife. So, find your girl, I'd find you. And as we all know, I did both." Peter smiles again at his achievement.
"We all know you caught me and before you go around gloating, I'd work on your accents. You massacered entendre."
Peter grumbles, "Not all of us can learn our french in France."
Elizabeth ignores them both. "Neal, did you really tell Peter to spend more time with me?"
"Well I am a romantic, but if it Peter tells it correctly, you already knew that and it's I who should be grateful to you. You persuaded him to agree to my work release."
"I think we're all pretty happy with the way things turned out. Now then, Lover Boy, shall we all return to our candlelight dessert?"
"I have a better idea."
Peter waits for him to continue, but he doesn't. "Well?"
Neal puts a finger to silence him, the pause for several more tense moments. Suddenly Neal breaks the silence with a snap of fingers and the lights return, in what Elizabeth could only describe as a homage to Fonzie of Happy Days's jukebox thumping. "Let's watch a movie."
"How did you do that?" Peter asks flabbergasted.
Neal laughs. "A conman, like a magician never reveals his tricks."
Neal was glad the electric company had recently introduced text alerts as when an outage would be restored. That, plus a little luck, made being cool so much easier.