The alarm blared and Danny rolled over and for a moment tried to pretend he didn't hear it. He knew full well though that he couldn't ignore it anymore. There would be no loving mother coming into coax the tired 7-year-old out of bed with a hot breakfast before school. Most kids his age didn't even have alarm clocks but he had started to get attention for missing school, so Danny had swiped one from the trash and made it his own. His mother had checked out long ago and now spent her days either asleep or in a sleep like state in the living room. He was too young when they relocated from D.C. to St. Louis to fully remember the loving, energetic warm woman she had been. His daily life revolved around the depressed shell co-existing in the apartment. He was a reminder of life gone wrong and she treated him like an alien. They lived in this meager apartment on government assistance and her job as a waitress, when she managed to hang on to one. Many days he went without a proper meal or clean school clothes. This is the mother he'd remember. His father was a distant memory. His "aunt" Ellen told him many stories of him and his days as a cop. They both painted him as a hero and all 7-year old Danny could think about is the day he'd get to follow in his footsteps.
For now though, he had to get up or he'd be late to school again. This boy would grow up to be a suave, impeccably dressed man with a taste for custom tailored suits and fedoras, but now he was a scrawny boy in dirty clothes. He was a shy boy with large soulful blue eyes and a mop top head of dark wavy hair. Because he was quiet and withdrawn, Danny didn't have many friends and faced ridicule for his disheveled poor appearance. In fact, his real name wasn't even Danny. It was Neal. He hung on to that part of himself. It was his superhero alter ego. Neal would be a cop, a hero, a fighter. His teacher thought it was a cute imaginary friend; Danny's way of dealing with his life situation. She could tell he was neglected, but couldn't get the system involved with no evidence. Emotional & even physical neglect is harder to prove than outright abuse, of which Danny displayed none. Danny refused to acknowledge any problems so she was forced to sit back and keep watch on him. She didn't know Danny's family was in Witness Protection. Danny didn't fully understand it either. All he knew was one day people were in his house packing up bags. While they were moving, people kept referring to him as "Danny Brooks" and asking him to repeat it back. It was confusing to the 3 year old boy who had responded to Neal Bennett leading up to that day. If anything, Danny Brooks was the alter ego. It was even more confusing to not have his father along for the move. He hadn't seen him since that one day he left promising to take Neal to the Smithsonian Air & Space Museum after he got back from his meeting. He stood at the door waiting for him to come home, the man never materializing.
Danny gathered his backpack and headed off to school. There would be no time to stop at Ellen's today. Most 7-year-old kids were too scared to walk in the city alone, but not him. Danny Brooks would be scared; Neal wasn't. There was a comfort he found in his long walk to and from school. In the morning elegantly dressed (in his eyes) people hustled and bustled their way off to start important jobs. In the afternoon, the city buzzed around him, men sat on porches and played chess or cards, music blared from boom boxes as the older kids break danced for tips, buses and taxis sped by. He stopped at a bakery window and stared inside, a pang of hunger stabbed at him. The bakery owner looked out at the scrappy young boy mistaking him for a hooligan and shooed him onward.
He made it just in time and slid into his desk just as the bell rang. During class, he perfected copying the hall pass Ms. Gardner gave out to those students needing to leave during the day. Danny needed to eat today and the only way he could do that is by selling his fake hall passes in exchange for lunch items his fellow classmates brought. 2 months into the school year and he was a master at forging them by tracing over an old one. He couldn't wait to learn cursive writing so he could get into absence letters – that was where the real value lay. Danny would sit in class and daydream most of the day, until art class. He loved art class. The walls of his room were adorned with his artwork; the only escape he could find from reality. Someday he'd be an artist, or a policeman, or a lawyer, either way he'd be far from his impoverished surroundings. Today if he was lucky, on his way home he'd get to play cards in the park. He knew the guys running the games from his daily walk to school. They let the young boy play for free and many times let him win. He didn't grasp that he was inadvertently helping them draw in marks for their cons. All he saw was a fun little game to play and hoped one day they'd teach him how to do it too.
"Daniel Brooks! What are these?"
A hand reached down and picked up his stack of fake hall passes. No lunch and no recess today. Danny sighed and prepared for another noon hour spent at the principal's office. At least he'd escape the wrath of Billy Perkins and the other popular kids. Sometimes he played with the girls, but more often than not, he wound up hiding with some art supplies or a book.
Most kids would have wound up in after school detention with their heads down on a desks. Danny was learning even at 7 years old that a charming smile coupled with his perfect blue eyes could get him out of most trouble. He was only in 2nd grade but had spent enough time in trouble he was learning the nuances to escape with the least amount of punishment. He would muster up the deepest regret he could feign, look the adult right in the eyes and apologize. He never looked down or outright admitted guilt. Today he wound up getting to spend his lunch hour inside reading a book. He also had to define forgery and write about how it applied to what he had done. A tough assignment for an average 7-year-old, but Danny, was no average kid.
Six years later and little Danny had sprouted into a gawky teenager. He was still small for his age, but was gaining more masculine features. He still had those powerful blue eyes though that caused most young women to swoon after the young man. Danny had also started to hone that charm into manipulation. Many years ago he had taken up passing interests in card games and magic. He honed those skills and put them into play on the streets of St. Louis. His hands were quick allowing him to smoothly pick pocket a stranger, pull the money out and put the wallet back in. He was long gone before the mark was any the wiser.
Danny's lucrative side business of forged absence notes was paying for more than just lunch now and he had even started to make fake ID's for his fellow classmates. Along with his growing side business of card cons & pick pocketing in the park, fake ID's & notes, Neal was gaining a reputation in the local pool halls. No longer was he wearing dirty clothes and skipping meals. He had a few close calls with the cops and was certain some of his less legitimate activities were starting to gain attention so the majority of his money was hidden. He was planning his escape from St. Louis, although Danny didn't know that yet.
"Neal, we have to talk"
No one ever called him Neal anymore and he almost didn't respond as Ellen walked into his apartment. Neal was looking forward to his 18th birthday, graduation. He still toyed with entering the police academy. The gawky teenager was now quite the heart throb but remained too guarded to actually let anyone close to him.
Ellen had a serious look upon her face as she pulled him aside.
His mother was out as usual. She made no effort to hide her resentment of Neal. He was her daily reminder of James Bennett and a burden. Her daily reminder of the life she lived versus the life she dreamed of. She tolerated his presence because he financially contributed to the household. Ellen had been more of a maternal influence in his life than his own mother.
"I want to tell you the truth…"
"What do you mean, the truth?"
"The truth about your father, how we ended up here in St Louis with new identities."
Neal's whole world crashed around him as he learned the man he had idolized as a hero was a criminal. He killed a fellow cop. He was in the Irish mob's pocket and Ellen had been the one to arrest him, her own partner. The man he thought he knew as his father was a lie and was the reason Neal had spent the last 15 years being Danny Brooks. The reason his family life crumbled. The reason he didn't eat and had to learn to fend for himself. The reason his own mother could barely acknowledge him. The anger curled around in his body and he tried to put on the façade of calm. He was getting good at the con man demeanor, but Ellen could see it in his eyes though. She had destroyed Neal Bennett/Danny Brooks.
"You needed to know. I couldn't tell you until now though because I wanted to ensure you were old enough to handle the news. You have choices in life and when you make them, I want you to have the facts and work with them instead of the stories you were raised with. "
He stopped hearing her. His head was swimming in anger. He wanted to scream. Ask why she perpetuated the lies his mother had raised him on. Ask her what good telling him this now actually did, aside from completely destroying his identity. Instantly he thought of nothing but escape. The night was a blur as he went through the motions. He assured her that they would sit down and talk about the entire story soon. Happy Birthday, yeah right? After Ellen had gone, Neal quietly packed his things. He penned a good-bye note to his mother,
"15 years later you get what you've finally wanted. I'm leaving. Maybe someday
we'll get past everything, but for now, I need to find my way. May you also find yours. "
With that closed the door on Danny Brooks, St. Louis and the life he had known. The only things he took were his money, his art supplies, and his hand crafted ID, "Neal Caffrey." He had borrowed his mother's maiden name if she ever decided to come out of her shell enough to care to look for him. Deep down he didn't really want to disappear but he could see no other alternative. His last stop was Ellen's where he slipped a different good-bye note under her door.
"Ellen, You're more of a mother to me than my real one. I do intend to have that chat with you one day, but I can't now. Once I figure some things out, we will find a way to be in each others lives again. Until then I must go out into the world. Don't look for me. When I am ready, I will send word to your address and hope it finds its way to you. Thank you for finally telling me the truth. I know that was probably the hardest thing you've had to do in a long time. -XOXO Neal"
He stared down at the ID once again. The name had a nice ring to it he decided as he jumped the bus to Chicago.
