Author's note:
This is a sequel to The Ends Don't Justify The Means.
I appreciate everyone's boisterous upset over my epilogue...I thought it was kind of clear by "I'm working on a few more White Collar fics" that I didn't intend to leave it hanging! I meant for the epilogue to segue into this story...I'm sorry, put down your angry pitchforks!
Also, this is *not* going to be a part of Neal's backstory. This is a continuation of the Ammon saga. I've taken some small liberties, naturally, with my creation of Ammon and how he has managed to exert such control over Neal's life...but I do plan on doing a Neal backstory, staying as cannon as possible, except, of course, where the creative license will need to be in place to discuss Neal's exploits as a young hustler in the Pool Halls of Saint Louis.
Same warnings as last story: consensual spanking of an adult, and no slash.
... Peter walked down the stairwell in June's house. His phone beeped, and he realized he had a text message from Jones. "You might want to come into the office. Got some evidence you should see."
Peter sighed, texted Jones that he was on his way, and then called his wife.
"Hon, I'm gonna be another hour or two. I need to go back to the office." He could practically hear the irritation in El's voice, even though he doubted anyone else would be able to pick out her frustration with his late hours.
"All right. I'll be here, hon." El sighed and got up to dump Peter's food into Satchmo's bowl. Peter told his wife goodbye, and vowed to bring her flowers, or something, tomorrow at lunch.
It was a quick drive to work. Peter walked into the almost-empty bullpen. Despite the text-summons into work, he was surprised to see the lights were on and that Jones still working. At this hour, especially after such a high-profile case, he expected the office to be entirely empty. "What are you working on, Jones?"
"Ah, nothing much, boss. Something just doesn't seem right about this whole thing. I'll show you." Jones shrugged and tossed a stack of eyewitness testimonies onto the table. "Have you reviewed the footage from the take-down?" Peter shook his head no, and sat down at the large conference room desk.
Jones thumbed through an index and then consulted the pile of boxes. He found the corresponding box and retrieved two DVDs. "Here." He slid them down the table to his boss.
"Thanks." Peter popped one into the computer and fiddled with the projector. After a few seconds he saw Neal standing at the subway with his phone pressed to his ear. He pressed fast-forward and amidst all the high-speed traffic he saw Ammon's taxi arrive. He hit play and watched as he and Neal exchanged words, and then the FBI agent arrest Ammon. Jones grabbed the remote and rewound the segment and played it back, this time in slow-speed. He watched as Ammon slipped something into Neal's pocket.
"Boss. You see that?" Jones hit pause.
"Yeah. What was it? Rewind the clip again." Jones obliged Peter. They both watched Ammon and Neal move in slow-motion.
"I don't know. Could be a key, or thumb drive, or a folded piece of paper." Jones shrugged.
"God dammit." Peter heaved a sigh of frustration and popped the disc out. "I'm gonna load this onto my computer so I can refile the disc, and then I'm done for the night."
Jones nodded and returned to the evidence spread out on the table.
Peter consulted the evidence list and tucked the DVDs back into the correct box. He decided he'd give Neal through the weekend before confronting him about Ammon's "gift." If he kept a close watch on his tracking anklet from the house, there wasn't that much trouble Neal could get into before Monday morning. Peter still hoped that Neal would call him and tell him about it-but Peter wondered if he'd end up having another painful discussion with Neal about keeping dangerous secrets.
Neal woke up, glad it was the weekend. He wasn't sure if he was prepared to go into work and have Peter watching his every move after yesterday. He walked to the bathroom, and gingerly stepped out of his pajama pants. Neal was relieved to find that his bottom didn't smart anymore. After some finagling with the angle of the medicine cabinet mirror in the bathroom, he gave up on being able to inspect his bottom's condition. He walked into his giant closet and stood in front of the full-length mirror. He was a little surprised to see that there were no marks on his skin. Last night he was sure it would stay red for a long time. He felt his face flush at the memory. It was embarrassing, and painful, but Neal had so many conflicting emotions about the whole experience. He didn't know prior to last night that Peter cared for him like a father should care for his son-and he certainly didn't expect to feel cared-for while flipped over his lap. He was mad at himself for worrying Peter, and he even felt guilty over lying to Peter. He had zero desire to repeat the experience, but Neal had to admit that Peter taking the time to hold him, and rub his back, and even sit with him until he fell asleep was nice. He would probably never admit it out loud, but Neal wouldn't mind if Peter were to do those things again.
He sighed and headed back into the bathroom to step under the shower's spray.
Dressed in comfortable slacks and a nice button-down shirt, Neal grabbed his laptop and opened it on the kitchen table. He started his coffee machine, and decided to quickly scramble some eggs, fry some bacon, and make toast for breakfast. He placed his meal on the table and then reluctantly retrieved the thumb-drive that Ammon slipped into his suit pocket yesterday.
He opened the drive and saw three files, labeled, "Read Me First," "Proof," and "This one's for Peter." Neal felt his gut twist and he pushed the plate of food away. Hesitantly he clicked on the Read Me First word document.
Danny,
In a gilded golden cage
300 feet above the waves
Is a book that I desire.
Go where it's lit without light,
No resistance and no fight-
Of your antics I do tire.
You should know the case is thin,
I walk free-to Peter's chagrin.
Your betrayal I'd seen days prior.
To ensure that you will comply,
Please imagine with your mind's eye,
Other forgeries I have on file.
Frank
Neal's brow wrinkled in confusion-what the hell was Ammon talking about, golden cages? With a start, he realized that Ammon was blackmailing him. He'd have to solve the first paragraph of this stupid riddle. He hesitantly started to click on second file labeled "proof," even though he had an idea what was in it. When the images loaded he felt a tight knot of anxiety form in his stomach. The first was a high resolution image of the painting Neal had "sold" to Ammon. The next photo was a zoomed in, and circled, picture of the two letters Neal used to mark his forgeries. They weren't even skillfully hidden, in Neal's opinion, the large and glaring N and C didn't have to be circled with MS Paint to catch his eye. The third item in the file was another note.
"The longer you take to give me my prize, the more forged pieces with your signature will start turning up while their originals go missing. Keller and Hagen are pissed at your betrayal, and more than willing to help me add to my collection."
As Neal realized the ramifications of Ammon's threat, the knot of anxiety in his stomach felt much larger now. He could feel his pulse thumping in his ears as his blood pressure rose. Feeling dizzy, Neal stumbled across the house to grab his phone. He sent a text message to Estelle's keeper, and prayed that Mozzie would be quick to respond.