Hey!! White Collar is my new obsession and Neal Caffrey my inspiration. So for all those who think that Peter acts like he's Neal's dad, here's my fic. Hope you like it, Love Brownie
Finding Neal
Chapter 1: Prologue
Peter sat slumped on his uncomfortable chair in the waiting room, his elbows resting on his knees and his head cradled between his hands, thinking about the events that had taken place over three hours ago.
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Over 3 hours ago
"Hey," yelled Neal, as he ran toward him, a serious look covering his usually relaxed face, and causing Peter to turn to face him. He came to a halt in front of Peter, only to take off again after he'd said, "We're jamming his call, get the belt off of her. Do it! Do it!"
Peter refrained himself from commenting on Neal giving him orders because he knew the kid meant well and turned to face the terrified model. Ruthlessly suppressing every instinct that told him to run after Neal and make sure he didn't do anything stupid and get himself hurt, Peter thought, Neal's a big boy, he can take care of himself, and focused his attention on doing his job.
Just when he'd successfully removed the belt, he heard the loud bang that he associated with a gunshot, and, before he knew it, his feet were moving toward the path that he'd seen Neal take less than three minutes ago, the belt aka potential explosive still in hand. Damn it, I knew I should have followed him! He's gone and gotten someone hurt.
He arrived at the scene of the crime, where the shot had been fired to see Lauren Cruz, his new agent bent over, her weight resting on her heels and her back facing him. He also saw Neal next to her, his back leaning against the trunk of a huge oak tree, his eyes closed, his head tipped back as if he didn't have a care in the world, and saw red. And, before he knew it, he was standing next to Neal, grabbing him by the white collar of his precious Devour shirt and slamming him against the tree, causing his fedora to fall to the ground.
He didn't register the groan of pain that escaped Neal's mouth at his action and started ranting, "I told you, one wrong move and you're back in prison. Now you've gone and got someone hur…"
"Stop it!" interrupted Lauren, who was now standing and trying to peel Peter's hands off Neal's collar, "Can't you see; you're hurting him!" This time, Peter heard Neal's groan as he was jarred in their struggled and jumped back as if he'd been burned, causing Neal to slide how the tree, leaving a trail of red behind him. He saw Lauren kneel next to Neal, so that she could pull him forward, causing his head to fall and rest on her shoulder, giving her access to his wound. Taking advantage of that fact, she wrapped her arms around him and, then, without warning, pressed down on the bleeding wound on his back. Neal's only reaction was a shudder, before he was back in his position.
Worried, Lauren tipped Neal's head back, revealing dazed eyes, and placed her hand on his head, before turning to look at Peter and said, "His skin is clammy and cold."
"He's going into shock," explained Peter as he knelt down next to Lauren, shrugged his jacket off, and tied it around the GSW on Neal's back, wincing at the howl of pain that resulted from the action, and unconsciously shifted Neal so that now he was in his arms. It was such a contrast to the way that he'd just been with Lauren that Peter couldn't help, but notice the little sigh that escaped Neal, as if he thought that no harm could come to him while he was with Peter, and the way he practically melted into his arms.
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He was jarred from his thoughts by the feeling of someone shaking his shoulder and the sound of that same person calling, "Sir? Sir, I need to check you out."
"What?" asked Peter, "I'm okay, I wasn't hurt." Even as he said it, Peter knew that the nurse wasn't convinced and he figured out why when he followed her line of sight of his clothes. His pants and shirt were fine, but the rolled up sleeves of his shirt and his arms and hands were drenched in blood – Neal's blood.
"This..," he started, his voice hitching, "This isn't my blood; it's my partner's." There he'd said it.
"Oh, I'm sorry," said the flustered, elderly Latino lady, who obviously had no idea what to say, "Would you like to get cleaned up? I could get you a clean pair of scrubs."
"Yeah, thanks. That'd be great actually," answered Peter, as he pushed himself up from the uncomfortable chair.
"Okay, the staff showers are just down that hallway – first door to the right," said the kindly woman pointing to Peter's left.
Peter started to walk toward the aforementioned door, then paused and turned back toward nurse, looking at her nametag, before saying, "Um, Sam, my partner…his name is Neal Caffrey; could you tell his doctor to find me and update me, as soon as he can."
"Sure, Honey," she assured, then, after hesitating, continued, "And I'm positive that your boyfriend is fine."
Peter blushed bright red when he realized what the woman had thought when he'd said the word "partners" and quickly went about setting her straight, "He's not…We aren't...I am a cop,"
Now it was Sam's turn to blush, but she didn't stammer her way through an exclamation, Peter guessed confidence was a trait that was perfected throughout the years. "Oh. So you work with you son?" she questioned.
"Why would you think that?" Peter answered her question with one of his own.
"Because the worry that I'm seeing on your face; I've only ever seen that worry on the face of parents, when their children are hurt, and lovers, when their spouses have come to harm."
Peter didn't know what to make of that or how he should respond, so he settled for, "Oh, okay, I'm gonna go take that shower," and waited for her nod before he left.
As he stared at his bloodied hands, Peter wished that he'd adhered to his instincts, but more importantly that he'd trusted Neal, Come on, the kid didn't even use a gun.
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At the Nurse's station
Samantha Juliana Cortez tried to pull up Neal Caffrey's file, but kept coming up blank. Finally, after her fifth try, she called her shift supervisor, Pete Brewing, who happened to be Neal's surgeon and attending physician.
He showed up twenty minutes later, the front of his scrubs bloodstained and peeling off his surgical gloves, "What's up?"
"It's about your new patient: Neal Caffrey."
"What about him?" asked Peter, as he dispensed some Germ-Ex onto his hand and went about ridding his hands of germs.
"I can't pull up his files."
"That's because Neal Caffrey doesn't exist," declared a third voice that had joined their conversation, causing Sam to jump. When her heart stopped racing, she turned her head toward the direction of the voice to see a semi-bald, excessive, but sharply dressed man, who was wearing glasses step out of the shadows and into the light.
…TBC…
(If you want me to)
Please R&R. Constructive Crit is always appreciated.
