Avenging Angel

Chapter 1

Neal closed his eyes again and the picture came back: Peter shackled and in prison. He opened his eyes. His head hurt. It'd been two months since Peter's disgrace and demotion, but it seemed liked yesterday. The Bureau decided after thirteen fucking years of service he deserved rehabilitation. At the hearing clearing him of all charges, Amanda Calloway said Peter would have to earn her trust. Prove himself worthy of his former position.

Trust was something Neal knew little about. When you've never had it, you spend a lot of time trying to prove it or disprove it like some mathematical theorem. His success rate was uninspiring. None the less, he trusted Peter Burke with his life. And what Amanda Calloway wanted had nothing to do with trust. She wanted Peter drummed out of the Bureau and him back in prison.

Peter, the eternal optimist, said they had to take it easy, be smart. He couldn't protect him now. He was more concerned with Neal going to prison than his own career. So for the time being, they played the cards they were dealt, but his heart wasn't in it. This was a con he couldn't embrace.

The headache that had taken up permanent residence in his temporal lobe demanded his full attention. He got up slowly and stepped into the kitchen. The headache made him nauseous; keeping anything down more than toast, tea and a handful of ibuprofen was an ongoing struggle.

He looked at the clock it was close to 2 am. He needed sleep. But that wasn't in the cards either, that psychopath Collins had been calling him the last week in the middle of the god damn night. As if life weren't crappy enough, now this nut case had resurfaced. He laid his palm on the counter top and watched the almost imperceptible tremor in his fingers. He laughed.

Mozzie, after way too much tequila, once told him he was perfect. Said God was giving with both hands when he made him. He laughed at the idea that anyone would think him perfect. Perfect? Not a chance, not even close.

However leave it to Moz. He also reminded him anyone blessed by the God's were subject to curses, divine retribution…a cosmic loophole. Maybe Moz was partly onto something, the curse thing had some currency. Kate was dead and so was Ellen, James was gone, Peter's life was in ruins and much of what he had built was torn down by the revenge that consumed him. He was a patient man, one of his many talents; one he knew he hadn't inherited from James. He'd made a plan, set a trap and waited. James walked right in and now he was back in prison where he belonged.

Turned out he was as ruthless as his old man after all, a trait he apparently did inherit. He thought he would take some comfort in bringing him down, settling the score; he was wrong. The ibuprofen was starting to work; the pain in his head was getting to manageable levels. The phone rang. Collins.

"What can I do for you tonight Agent Collins?"

"Cut the crap Caffrey. You know why I'm calling."

"Rehab not working? You know you're going about this making amends thing all wrong. You might want to talk to your sponsor."

"You're a regular comic. I hear it's a barrel of laughs over at the White Collar Division. Ratting out your old man to save your ass, that's fucked up… even for you. "

Neal took a steadying breath. He's not in the mood for this tonight. He can hear Peter's voice rattling around in his drugged brain, "Don't do anything stupid." Like egging on a homicidal maniac, he stayed quiet.

"What's the matter Caffrey, cat got that silver tongue of yours?"

He could hear Collins breathing pick up, obviously excited by his "witty" comeback. All he had to do was wait out that smug bastard, soon enough he'd drift off into an alcohol induce stupor and end tonight's tirade.

"You know a lot of good men have gone down because of your bullshit; Fowler, Kramer, Hughes. You fuck over people for a living. That reminds me, how's your boyfriend Burke holding up?"

"You're the one drunk calling me at 2 am. I thought you were my boyfriend," so much for not doing anything stupid.

"Watch your mouth, you little shit; before I come over there and teach your sorry ass a lesson. When I finish with you you're gonna be begging me to stop."

"That sounds hot."

"Fuck you, Caffrey! You think you're so clever, so fucking funny. You won't be laughing when I snap your scrawny neck. I should have finished you when I had the chance."

"Yeah, you're a regular hero when you have someone handcuffed," Neal laughed.

"You don't know who you're fucking with Caffrey. I am a hero, the genuine article. I'm a fucking special agent of the FBI. You're nothing! Less than nothing, a fucking liability! You're a dead man! You hear me! You're…."

The line went dead.

Neal felt his nausea return, along with a certain amount of trepidation. He knew Collins was more than capable of following through on his threat. He ran his fingers along the barely noticeable scar on his thigh. He needed a drink. The vodka helped.

He woke from a fitful sleep around 4 in the morning needing to relieve himself and shuffled to the bathroom. The remnants of the vodka left him a little unsteady on his feet. As he made his way back to bed, he thought he saw something in the shadows near the balcony door. A shiver went up his spine. He could still hear Collins threat echoing through his brain. His mind was messing with him clearly.

He cursed himself for letting that rat bastard rattle him. No way could Collins be out there, most likely scenario he was somewhere passed out drunk. He was safe. He climbed into bed pulled the covers up to his chin. He closed his eyes as his body quieted, settling into a deep dreamless sleep. He never heard the footsteps on his balcony.

Wcwcwccwcwcwcwcwcwcwc

The next morning, Neal stood at the entrance to the White Collar Division looking through the glass doors. The world had changed. It was still a jolt to see Diana in Peter's office. She refused at first. It was Peter naturally, who ended up convincing her to accept it. He put on a smile he didn't feel, squared his shoulders and glided into the offices.

His desk was freshly stacked with cold mortgage cases courtesy Assistant Director Amanda Calloway. To complete Peter's humiliation his desk was now set to the back in the section relegated to probies.

Neal asked that at least Peter be given his desk. However, the new AD had other plans. She wanted Neal front and center as a cautionary tale for all who entered. Involvement with him would lead to their ruin, a certain path to career suicide. The desk he was once so proud to claim, was now his scarlet letter.

He made himself a coffee and one for Peter, who was already deep into a stack of cold cases.

"How you holding up?"

"From the looks of it, I should be asking you that." Peter's eyes narrowed, noticing the shading under his friend's eyes.

"I'm fine, just peachy. I see the dragon lady's been busy; he nodded to the stack of cases. What, did she send over to Jersey?" hoping the misdirection would shake off Peter's scrutiny.

Diana came up, trying to suppress a grin as she watched the finely tuned choreography of detection and misdirection. The easy repartee, the genuine smile on her boss's face, it had been missing too long. She hated to break it up.

"The AD's called a meeting. Violent Crimes wants our take on a case and she wants both of you."

"The both of us?" Peter looked up curiously. If the AD so much as thought he and Neal were having anything more than a three minute chat, she hauled him in to acquaint him again of the rules regarding their conduct in the office. She wanted them separated.

Neal cleared his throat pointedly, pulling Peter out of thoughts he hadn't realized he slipped into.

"What?"

Neal pulled out his cell, "I'm checking Google news to see if the flying pigs have made their way to midtown. You and me in the same room, and on an FBI case. I knew she would come to her senses."

"Don't get a head of yourself J Edgar. Let's see what this is about."

When they get to the large conference room, everyone is already seated. Jones moves over and makes a place for Peter at the conference table. Neal perches on the sill of the window across from him. There is a blank screen up. Then the AD enters with a tall brunette.

"This is Agent Margaret Grace, eastern director of the Violent Crimes Division. We will be providing assistance on their current case. Agent Grace, if you would bring everyone up to date."

Everyone had heard of her, even Neal. Agent Margaret Grace widely respected, tough as nails, brilliant profiler, Quantico's best. Her rise through the old boys club of the FBI had been nothing less than meteroric. He hoped this might be something he and Peter could be involved in; it's just what Peter needed, a puzzle to crack, a chase and a brilliant mind to play off. He was starting to feel excited. It didn't hurt that Margaret Grace was stunning.

"I'm sure all of you are familiar with MacLeish a former FBI's most wanted, his picture flashed on the screen. He was arrested and taken into custody last year. Two days ago he was murdered in a holding cell while waiting transfer to a maximum federal prison upstate. As you all know, MacLeish was apprehended by Agent Kyle Collins with the assistance of Agent Burke while securing Mr. Caffrey's return."

Calloway turns to Peter. "I have asked Agent Burke and Mr. Caffrey to join us. This is Neal Caffrey and Agent Burke his former handler."

"Hi Peter," Agent Grace says looking at Peter.

"Maggie," Peter nods.

Neal sees an expression cross Peter's face, a look…..one that is only reserved for Elizabeth. His antenna goes up, way up.

"So you know Agent Burke then? "asks Calloway.

"Yes Agent Burke and I go back, way back. He was my supervisor when I was first recruited. The best supervisor and agent the department has ever had, in my opinion." Jones gave an emphatic nod. "I'm glad to have you both on board," she looked from Peter to Neal.

Maggie Grace was a tall, athletic brunette with piercing blue eyes that almost came close to Kate's in intensity. She was Elizabeth without the unabashed sexuality. Peter had a type; brainy, blue eyed brunettes. Neal grinned inwardly.

"The manner in which MacCleish was killed is consistent with the MO of a serial killer we have been tracking. Ambrose Snow's picture was up next. We have been tracking Mr. Snow since his escape from prison. As you are aware, Mr. Snow was involved with and almost apprehended by your Division last year."

Peter saw Neal flinch the moment Snow's name was mentioned. It was a complicated case for them. Neal still felt haunted by it and felt responsible for him being injured. It wasn't his fault. Ambrose Snow would have certainly killed him. Neal saved his life that day on the roof.

"We tracked Mr. Snow to Cape Verde last year. He arrived there, we believe shortly after Mr. Caffrey came to the island. He fell off the grid until MacLeish's murder. There was one other murder on the island that we have tied to Snow, a local businesswoman." She pointed to the screen and a woman's face appeared. Neal's eyes widened. Then the next slide of the crime scene caused a gasp from the veteran agents in the room. Neal's coffee cup slid through his fingers and crashed to the ground.

"God, Maya." He fled the room.

Peter was on his feet.

"Peter?" Maggie looked puzzled.

"Maya was Neal's friend."

Peter found Neal in the men's room, bending over the row of sinks. His hand was clapped over his mouth as he tried not to be sick. He was pale and shaking.

"Neal, I'm so sorry."

"Why? She was innocent; she had nothing to do with this. She didn't deserve that, his hand went to his stomach. What could Ambrose possibly want with her? She was no danger to me."

"We will find out what happened." Peter placed his hand on his friends shoulder to steady him.

Diana eased into the room.

"You Ok?" She looked at Neal, who had his arms wrapped around himself. "Boss, the AD sent me. They need you both back in there."

"Boss?" he looked at her knowingly.

"Sorry, habit."

"Neal's going home," Peter said flatly.

"Peter, that's not necessary. I'm OK now and besides I want to help."

"No discussion. Until we find out what's going on your not safe. I'm having a detail placed at June's and…."

Neal and Dianna looked at him as he slowly came to the realization, he didn't call the shots anymore. He couldn't ensure Neal's safety. He smiled at them sadly.

"Sorry, habit."

"It's OK. I'll have someone take Neal home and set up the detail at June's. But for now I think you need to get back to the meeting, boss."

As Peter walked away, Neal turned to Diana. "It's not me he has to worry about. I'm not the one that's unsafe."