People are like stained-glass windows.
They sparkle and shine when the sun is out,
but when the darkness sets in,
their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within.
Elisabeth Kubler-Ross
AN:
This story is quite different from my usual stories.
There is absolute no fluff. It's sad to no end. And please don't expect any sudden turn. Alex is going to die in this story.
So if you're looking for a light reading, this is not what you want.
"Peter, from now on I need to go to Colorado twice a year."
The senior agent stared at him somewhat perplexed. "Are you drunk by any chance? Right now, you should consider yourself lucky that you've not been sent back to prison – for good."
He was still mad about Neal's recent criminal activities and wasn't willing to accept them as an act of friendship carried out with the best intentions.
The CI looked deadly serious and was stone-cold sober. He understood it would be difficult to convince his handler. But once Burke had heard the full story, he might be willing to consent. He had to. Neal had given his word and didn't plan to break it. No matter what.
Two weeks earlier...
A courier service delivered a small card board box to June Ellington's residence, addressed to Neal G. Caffrey, without details about the sender.
The ex-con man has had long day at the FBI working cold cases in the filing cabinet. He was miffed about the boring task. His complains about having a dust allergy or undue hardship have been ignored. Therefore, Neal's mood was low when he took the package from his landlady and the mysterious box offered a most welcome diversion.
The anonymous sender and the unknown, very forceful handwriting held a lot of promise. Besides, he was desperate for a challenge to kill the boredom.
The box weighed little and when Caffrey took of the lid, he found a red origami crane. There was a short note included in the box as well. Neal didn't need to read it to figure out who had sent the package. Origami cranes had been Alex's signature ever since he got to know her.
The card contained an urgent request. "I need to see you. Please come. I have no time to spare. Alex."
Although the message was written in a scrawly hand, it was without a doubt Alex's handwriting, whereas the address details on the backside of the card have been written by the same person who labeled the courier package. Mount Sinai Roosevelt Hospital in Midtown Manhattan. There were also details given about the floor, ward, room number and visiting hours included. The ex-criminal concluded that a nurse might have written it.
The plain and straightforward message was frightening. Neal realized at once that these were no good news. Moreover, his old friend might be in danger or misery.
No, he didn't like hospitals or sickness in general, but he wouldn't ignore this plea. If his friend asks for his help, the ex-con wouldn't refuse. The last time Alex and he had parted, hadn't been on amicable terms. Despite all that, their friendship went back a long way surviving more serious trouble before.
Right after work the next day, Neal made a detour to Roosevelt Hospital on his way home.
The ward didn't look as ugly and daunting as you might have expected. Walls painted in dazzling colors with decent art prints; not the usual smell of cleaning or disinfection solution, instead an air freshener called up memories of an early summer day. Even the bouquet of flowers in the reception area was real giving a cheerful impression.
So far, so good. Of course, the nurses looked like nurses. Not the type you might find in the wrong kind of movies, but no-nonsense professionals. Apparently, the patients hanging out in the hallway looked obviously sick, too.
Neal found the room he was looking for and entered after knocking.
"Alex!?" Neal was overwhelmed. The woman he spotted in the bed was Alex. However, she didn't look like the Alex Hunter he knew. If he hadn't expected to find her here, but rather had met her in a coffee bar, he wouldn't have recognized her at first sight.
She was pale with dark circles around the eyes, irritated skin, yet a radiating smile on her face when she caught sight of her visitor.
"Caffrey, you came! I had some doubts whether you might be still sulky after our last encounter." Alex looked at him inquiringly.
Neal rejected her concerns with a shrug. "You took quite a sudden leave. Just like in the olden days. That's how we are. By the way, I like your hat, very Grace Kelly-ish."
A large white straw hat covered her hairless head, in addition she wore an elegant silk scarf which hid most of her blue and black arms.
Despite the consternation he felt, Neal kept a light tone. "I guess it's pointless to ask if you're okay. But anyway, how are you?"
Beating around the bush had never been Alex's style. "I'm dying Neal. There's nothing to be done about it."
Her friend wasn't willing to accept the inevitable. "Hunter, this is a hospital. You're here to be cured of whatever disease you were stricken with. You're negative mood is obstructing your self-healing powers. You have to think positive."
Alex shook her head sympathetically. "Caffrey, can't you read anymore? You must have seen the big sign when you entered the ward. Palliative care unit. Denial doesn't help. I'm affected with cancer and far beyond treatment. I'm here to spend my last days in dignity enjoying the best pain medication money can buy."
The young man just sat there staring at her, lost for words. So, she went on.
"I had my final chemo last week. Unfortunately, radiotherapy isn't helping either. Melanomas have spread all over. It's time to accept the facts and settle my affairs." Her eyes were sad, but she seemed to be very determined.
Neal wasn't so cool. "How can you be so calm? This is awful. We should ask Mozzie; he might know a specialist or untested medication. We should leave no remedy untried."
However, the terminal ill patient was less than thrilled. "No! No shaman, no spiritual healing, no exotic drugs or herbal cocktails. I don't have the time for this nonsense.
I can't deny the facts. I'm not angry anymore, stopped bargaining with any deity available, even made it almost through depression. Now, it's time to accept my fate. Speaking about time, I don't have any to spare. Please, pull yourself together! I need your help to take care of things. I know it's a lot to ask from you..."
Caffrey couldn't believe this. His friend had always been strong and vital, bursting with energy, as willing to rest as quicksilver.
He didn't know her exact age, but she was probably a couple of years younger than he was himself. No-one was supposed to die that young. The cat burglar had always been careful with the jobs she took on, obviating unnecessary risks. It wasn't fair. She had coped with so many dangerous situations so far, for what? All that to die eventually in a hospital bed?
Alex dwelt on similar thoughts. "I've never imagined breathing my last in a hospital bed, drinking chamomile tea, supervised by a medical team. I've figured it would be something spectacular, like jumping from the top floor of a medieval palace or going down in a blaze of gunfire." She sighed.
Neal cleared his throat. "Believe me or not, it's not easier for the ones you leave behind if you make a dramatic exit, like being blown to pieces in an exploding airplane."
It was hard for him to overcome the pang of grief and anger. However, he sensed that he hadn't been asked to come to exchange courtesies. He had always been quick to adjust to changing circumstances. So, he braced himself. "Tell me, why am I here?"
Thus, she told him the story about Daniel, her nine year old son who was living with her parents in Silverton, Colorado, having no clue about her profession. The son she visited regularly between jobs and whom she loved with all her heart. She loved him unselfishly; therefore, she had long since realized that a young child needed more stability than she was able to give. Her parents were kindhearted people who raised Danny with love and affection. He was good in school, played baseball and his granddad had built him a tree house in the garden. A perfect childhood.
Today was full of surprises. Neal tried to collect his thoughts babbling away. "Your son? I didn't know you're a mom. Wait! He's nine. He can't be... I'm not... I can't..." His confusion was obvious.
His baffled look made Alex guffaw. "No, you're not. Don't worry. You're not his father."
This question was answered, but the reply provoked the next question. "Then why am I here?"
The sick woman locked eyes with him. "His father is a miserable son of a bitch, so the best I can do for Danny is not to tell him about his dad - even more important, not to tell anyone else about him. It was a fling, no happy love affair. That douche bag has no clue about his offspring, and we'll all better off if it stays like this."
Within minutes, Neal had gone through an emotional rollercoaster. Being a father would have been strange, but not completely unwelcome. Only, it wasn't meant to be. There would be another time for him, time to build a family, time to become a father. Someday soon, when he was once again free to roam and find a love for himself.
"So, how do I come into play? How can I help?"
"My parents are kindhearted and caring and good as gold. Only, they've told Daniel that I'm an art historian leading a dull live in research projects in faraway museums. I don't want him to grow up thinking I've been a bookish sissy or, even worse, forget me completely.
I need someone to tell him how I really was without giving away to many incriminating details, of course. Someone teaching him to enjoy life and what really counts, like friendship. Even more important, that his mom was an extraordinary beauty."
Neal chuckled. "Goes without saying... Hm. Let's see... Art historian. That's material I can work with. A treasure hunter, a female Indiana Jones, rescuing the jewel of the Nile. When he's a bit older, I'm going to tell him how we both have extracted the Victorian necklace in England, a little bit glossed over, for his own sake."
"Oh yeah, please skip the details when I had to leave the duke's castle in the middle of the night, dressed in a translucent nightgown, chased by a mob of domestics armed with deer rifles."
Caffrey was a trifle annoyed. "Come on, I'm a con man. I know how to tell a good story without incriminating anyone. Don't worry. You'll be his hero. He will know that you danced with princes, dined with world famous opera stars and fought the bad guys. No-one was able to resist your allure.
I'll tell him that you were held hostage by dangerous criminals for an amber music box. I'll tell him his mother has been a bit crazy, but extremely good at what she was doing, and her heart was in the right place."
Now, Alex couldn't stop the tears running down her face. "Thank you, Caffrey. I owe you one. It means a lot to me."
But Neal wanted to know why she had picked him. "Why me? I'm a criminal. I've ditched you for Kate, and I'm not on the top ten list of responsible people. Truth be told, not even on the top ten thousand list."
Yet, his old friend hasn't chosen him without consideration. In fact, she had even picked this hospital because it was in his two mile radius. Therefore, the FBI consultant would be free to visit her without asking anyone for permission. She had planned it carefully.
"I don't have many friends. Not really easy to make friends in our industry... Of all the crooks, criminals and cons I've met you're the only decent one. You won't let down a friend. What is more, I figured you might understand how much a young boy might be longing for some stories about the parent who has died too early. After all, you grew up without your father yourself."
Neal nodded silently, unable to speak right now. She was right with that guess.
As an afterthought, she went on. "Not to forget, you might teach him how to dress with style, tie a tie and wear a hat. I don't want him to grow into a flannel shirt wearing hayseed with a full beard."
They spend another half an hour reminiscing, telling each other stories about cons they had pulled, good jobs and bad jobs. Finally, Alex was tired, obviously needing rest. Neal promised to return the next day.
Walking home, the finality and enormity of the news, he just learned earlier on, began to sink in. He might not have talked to Alex regularly over the years, but he always knew she was there. So, if he wanted to get in contact, he only had to find a way. She had been around, somewhere. She won't be any longer. She would be gone, for good.
No-one who knew the truth about what had happened years ago in the palace Amalienborg when they had found the music box for the first time.
No-one who shared those foolish memories of playful flirtations, the kind you only experience when you're young and haven't been disappointed by life yet.
No more surprise origami messages.
No more Alex.