It wasn't hard to jimmy open the lock to the storage facility, and Neal had slipped inside – away from the bustle of night-time New York – within moments. It was risky, coming to the city, what with Peter Burke and his FBI buddies getting ever closer, but this was the only time he'd be able to retrieve his forged Botticelli before New York became completely out of bounds. And anyway, he lived for risky.
He'd already tampered with the alarm systems, and that gave him roughly twenty minutes in the place before they came back on. Wasting no time, Neal darted down numerous hallways, taking several turns before he reached unit 244. Smiling smugly to himself, he was just about to put his key in the lock before he heard a noise behind him.
Neal was spinning and hiding behind a corner before he'd even fully comprehended the fact that someone else was in there with him. The facility was closed at this time of night, so it was becoming apparent that this new person was unlikely to be a particularly nice one.
On the one night I need the place to myself, Neal grumbled internally. He just hoped it was nobody that was after him.
Commotion from around the corner made him slowly move to see what was happening, and he was privy to the sight of five men gathered around a unit, waiting for another man to break the lock open. Strangely, one of the men was holding a small child, a boy who seemed to be around two or three years old.
Not really the sort of profession to bring your child along to, but each to their own I guess, Neal mused. When the unit was opened and the child started crying as he was roughly given to one of the other men, Neal experienced an unsettling feeling in his stomach as he began to wonder if the child really was with one of his parents.
His fears were confirmed when the boy was placed in the storage unit, and then the shutter was pulled down on him, what the fuck? Neal could hardly believe what he was watching. If this is a kidnapping, who the fuck kidnaps a child?
From where he was stood, Neal was able to hear the boy's cries, and he couldn't understand how the men could simply amble off as if they hadn't just locked an infant in a small room. Even when he was merging with the criminal underworld, Neal tried to stay away from murderers and kidnappers and the like, because they were people you generally could not trust, but child kidnappers? He was going nowhere near these guys, not if he could help it.
As the men walked off, Neal was drawn from his thoughts when he thought he heard the word "Burke," uttered between them, and the unsettling feeling in his stomach became downright nauseous.
Please, God, don't let this be Peter Burke's kid, he thought to himself, because if it was, that meant Peter Burke would eventually come here. And riding on the fact that his son had been taken, it wasn't going to take too long for him to arrive.
Neal glanced at the unit where the boy was being held, and then looked back to where he'd stored his Botticelli. It'd be worth millions if he could sell it, but he was essentially choosing between a painting and a child. There was an obvious choice as to which option to leave with tonight. And besides, if it ever got found out that Neal was in the place where Burke's kid was and didn't do anything, the FBI agent would have his head.
You realise you'll have to actually hand over this child to Peter, or at least an FBI agent, a counter-voice in his mind argued. They will arrest you.
I don't know for sure if this is Burke's kid, he found himself arguing back, and again, this is a child we're considering. There's no other option.
So, risking the rest of his future, Neal crept forward, careful not to make too much noise lest the kidnappers were close by. When he reached the unit, it only took a moment for him to pick the lock and ever so slowly roll the shutter upwards.
Inside, the toddler was crouched against the back wall, his face red and blotchy with tears still running down his face. When light from the hallway entered the unit, he looked up to Neal and pushed himself further into the room.
"Hey," Neal whispered, planting an easy smile on his face. "It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you." He took a few steps inside and crouched down, holding out his hands in a placating gesture.
"My name's Neal." he continued. "I'm going to get you out of here, alright buddy?"
The boy sniffed and cautiously got to his feet. He didn't come any closer to Neal though.
A sudden idea striking him, Neal fished around in his pockets. "Want a lollipop?" he asked with a grin, holding up a green one. He ignored the possibility that this was how the kidnappers caught the child in the first place.
The boy nodded, and with a shy smile, wobbled over to Neal and took the candy.
"Want me to unwrap it?" Neal asked, and the boy nodded again. "Okay." He took the candy back and began taking off the wrapper. He eyed the dark hair on the toddler's head, and the deep green eyes. Yes, there was a passing resemblance to Burke, but that confirmed nothing yet.
"Hey, so we can get you back to your parents, what's your mommy or daddy's name?" he asked, handing over the lollipop.
The child sucked on the candy with a small frown a few moments before answering. "I – I dunno." he answered in a small voice, looking up at Neal with big eyes, as if afraid the conman would punish him for not knowing.
"Alright, that's alright, let's get out of here first, and then we'll think about getting you back home, okay?" Once again the boy nodded, and he continued sucking on the lollipop even as Neal lifted him up. He adjusted the child's clothing, doing up his blue winter jacket and hefting him around a bit until he was resting him on his hip.
"There we are. Now then, let's get out of here."
He peered out into the hallway, and when he saw that the coast was clear, Neal began a quick walk in the opposite direction of where the men had gone. Baby Burke, as Neal had taken to calling him, was bouncing quietly in his arms, still devouring the candy. Neal wondered if he should have given the toddler such a sugary sweet, but then he reasoned that the kid had just been kidnapped so he could have whatever the hell he wanted afterwards.
There was a sudden shout in the direction behind him, and Neal cursed himself when he remembered that he hadn't rolled the shutter back down. The pounding of footsteps coming nearer confirmed his suspicion that the kidnappers had found the empty storage unit.
Neal broke into a run, gripping the toddler with both arms and taking corner after corner after corner. Left, left, right, left, right, and then the fire exit was glowing in the darkness ahead of them like a life-saving flare in the Alps, and Neal burst through the door seconds later. He looked left and right before heading down an unknown street, and soon he was jogging down a spider-web of sidewalks, becoming more and more unsure as to where he was going.
"Hey, buddy, what's your name?" he panted quietly.
"Wobbie." The boy answered, and Neal frowned, confused, for a moment.
"Robbie?" he clarified, and the child nodded. "Okay, Robbie, can I take that candy off of you? I don't want it to hurt you." Neal had been aware as he had been running that due to the increased pace he was taking, Robbie had clung to him with both hands, sticking the lollipop in his mouth as a result. He could imagine the frustration if they'd escaped Robbie's captors only for the kid to choke to death.
Obediently, Robbie handed it over and Neal chucked it aside, pulling out his phone instead. Typing in the memorised number, he waited for an answer and continued to hope this wasn't a certain FBI agent's child.
"Caffrey, I'm really not in the mood for late-night phone calls right now." Peter Burke growled into the phone.
"Aw, Peter, I can't believe you saved my number." Despite the situation, he couldn't help tease the other man as he would do normally.
"Seriously, Caffrey, you'd better be calling to surrender or I'm hanging up. I'm too busy for this."
"Sounds important." Neal retorted, and then, "Okay, here's my question. Know anybody called Robbie?" He heard more shouts behind him and took a sudden turn, smiling reassuringly at Robbie when the kid looked up at him at the mention of his name.
He had noted, whilst plotting their escape route, that there had been an unusually long silence on the line before Peter answered again.
"El's father is called Robert." he said. "Happy?"
"I didn't ask about Robert, I asked about Robbie. Or, 'Wobbie'."
"What have you done?" Peter growled immediately. "I swear to God, Caffrey, if you're part of this–"
"Say hello to Daddy, Robbie." Neal said, giving the phone to the toddler and hoping he wouldn't drop it.
"Dada?" Robbie held the phone tightly in his little hands, and Neal only partially listened to the answers he was giving as he continued to navigate the maze of streets. The voices and footsteps didn't seem to be coming any nearer, but he couldn't risk slowing down. He passed a narrow alley shrouded in darkness with a high chain-link fence at the end and he darted down it, crouching behind a dumpster and hoping they were out of sight.
Neal set Robbie down on the slick ground next to him and asked to take the phone back, conscious that the toddler was talking rather loudly.
"They took him to Gotham Mini Storage." Neal said as soon as he got the phone back. "We're a few streets away now, not sure where exactly."
"I'm on my way." Peter said, in full agent mode, Neal could tell. "Stay there, Caffrey."
"Might not be an option, Peter." Neal replied, peering down the alley as the kidnappers got closer. "Gotta go, bye."
"Caffrey, wait–" He stuck his phone in his pocket, though – figuring that if Peter was smart enough he'd trace his phone – and put his finger to his lips, ensuring Robbie stayed quiet. He felt the toddler grip his sleeve and huddle closer as his captors came nearer. He could hear what they were saying, and it was just his luck that they stopped at the entrance of the alley to argue about which direction to go in.
Neal could tell Robbie was becoming more and more upset the longer the criminals stayed there. He rubbed his back soothingly, but Robbie's face screwed up and a few tears ran down his cheeks.
"It's okay." Neal whispered as quietly as he could. "Keep quiet and it'll be okay."
"No, p'ease, no." Robbie wailed, nice and loud for the men to hear. Neal swore and scooped Robbie up before the kidnappers even had a chance to turn around, and he sprinted to the end of the alley where, and Neal had no idea which deity decided to finally answer his prayers, an external fire escape sat attached to one of the buildings.
Neal jumped up and pulled down the retractable ladder, climbing it swiftly whilst the kidnappers ran to their position. Robbie had linked his arms around Neal's neck, tucking his head down so he wouldn't have to see the men that were rapidly getting closer. Soon, though, Neal had reached the first landing, and he yanked the ladder upwards, it sliding into place with a loud squeak. He found a small lever nearby and twisted it down, effectively putting the 'brakes' on the ladder so it couldn't be pulled down.
Then, he sprinted up the mini staircases, getting higher and higher and higher, gently shushing Robbie as he began to cry. Neal decided not to go straight to the roof, as had been his original plan, and instead ducked inside the building via an open window.
He found himself in a small apartment, the lights dimmed in the sitting room as a couple watched television. Upon his arrival the pair turned to look at him with disbelieving eyes, and he flashed them what he hoped was a disarming smile.
"Just needed to use your window." he said breathlessly. "I'll be going now."
Neal dashed through the apartment and found the front door, wrenching it open and sprinting up the stairwell.
"It's all right, buddy," he cooed to a crying Robbie. "They're not gonna get you, you'll be fine."
Up and up he went until they finally reached the door to the roof. He pushed it open and quickly shut it behind him, dismayed to find that there was nothing around to wedge it shut. The roof was long and rectangular, and the miniature structure containing the door to the roof was located near the edge on the left. Neal ran around the structure until he was on the other side of it, and then he sat down.
"Okay," he gasped, trying to plant Robbie next to him but the toddler hugged him tighter when he attempted it. He gave up and the boy leant against his chest, heaving and gasping as he continued to sob. "They're gone, and we're gonna be alright. Come on, buddy, it's okay." Neal rubbed his back again and stroked his hair, all the while trying to catch his breath whilst figuring out what to do if the men made it to the roof. The fire escape was on the other side of the building, and for the moment he couldn't hear anybody down below, so he hoped that meant they had all gone inside the building and nobody was standing guard of the staircase on the ground. So far, that was the only escape route.
Robbie's breathing had begun to slow down, and he had stopped crying. Now, he was hiccupping.
"There we go, it's okay." Neal huffed, patting the toddler aimlessly whilst closing his eyes and resting his head against the brick wall. "I'm out of running juice. We'll just stay here until Daddy arrives."
Which, apparently, was sooner than Neal had been anticipating. The fire escape rattled as someone climbed it, and Neal tensed, ready to spring up if an unwanted figure arrived. Instead, Peter Burke's worried and determined face popped over the ledge, and he froze when he saw Neal and Robbie sat a short distance away.
Then he was scrambling to get onto the roof and running across the space until he was crashing to his knees next to Neal and hugging his son tightly, who had wiggled out of Neal's grip when he spotted his father.
Robbie was crying again, and when he opened his eyes against his father's chest and met Neal's gaze, the conman grinned at him.
"We did it." he panted to the child. "High five." Robbie giggled through his tears and patted his tiny hand against Neal's larger one.
Peter kissed the top of Robbie's head and then looked over to Neal.
"I thought you were going to be inside the building." he said. "I was going for the surprise attack while my agents stormed the front entrance. I wasn't expecting you to be on the roof."
Neal smiled and lifted his hands in a 'what are you gonna do?' gesture. "When do I ever do what's expected?" he asked.
Peter huffed a laugh and shook his head. "For an awful moment, I thought you were one of the people who took Robbie." he admitted.
"Peter, I'm disappointed." Neal huffed in a mock-hurt voice. "Would you really associate me with those sorts of people?"
Peter's radio crackled before he could answer, and he unclipped it from his belt. "Diana?" he spoke into it. Robbie lifted his head and tried to take it but Peter leaned away with a smile on his face.
"They're all headed for the roof, Boss." Diana's voice crackled over the radio. "You should encounter them on your way down. We're close behind."
Peter's eyes met Neal's worried ones. "Take Robbie and go, Caffrey." Peter said, putting down his radio and proffering the toddler, who clung desperately to his father.
"What? No, that's crazy." Neal argued. "You're his father, you go with him. Or, here's an idea, we both go with him."
"I've got a job to do, Caffrey, now go."
"And that takes precedence over being a father? What if something happens?" Neal retorted. "What's Elizabeth going to do?"
Peter's gaze hardened. "That'd be none of your business." he hissed back. "Seeing as you're a criminal and you're never going to meet El. It's bad enough Robbie's had to deal with you."
"I just saved him!" Neal shouted, not understanding why Peter was getting angry.
"Yeah, and you're gonna do it again. Now go!" He shoved Robbie onto Neal's lap and, knowing he wasn't going to win, the conman got to his feet, the child resting on his hip again.
"Get to the FBI if you can." Peter said as he took his gun out of his holster and the door on the other side of the mini building clanged open. He ran towards the commotion as Neal ran away from it, ignoring Robbie's cries for his dad.
He could hear shouting and yelling behind him, the FBI agents ordering the men to put down their weapons whilst the kidnappers continued to brandish them. Neal could hear one unfamiliar voice in particular – nearby he assumed, if he could hear him so clearly – repeatedly shouting at someone to "stop, or I'll shoot!", and he wondered who was running away from them, and where exactly they were going to go. He hoped the culprit wasn't following him.
Neal got to the edge of the building and looked down, realising that there was a bit of a drop between the ledge and the fire escape below, and so he decided to get down first and then grab Robbie.
He could hear the agent still shouting for this one person to stop what they were doing unless they wanted to be shot as he put Robbie down.
"It's just for a second." he reassured Robbie, bending down towards the boy who was looking up at him with a frown and a wobbling lip. "I just need to get down there and then bring you down after me, otherwise it'll be dangerous, understand?"
Robbie nodded and then peered over the edge, and Neal straightened up and stepped onto the ledge, grinning down at the boy as he turned his back to the fire escape.
It was as he looked up that he realised who the agent had been shouting at. Him.
The bullet tore through his side, and the pain slithered like fire over his body. Neal gasped and looked down at the blood spreading and staining his shirt, visible even though it was black.
The pain was unimaginable. Originating from his side, he felt as though someone was running a red hot poker over his chest, and then adding bolts of electricity to the mix. He could feel his knees weaken and he blinked hard, trying to rid himself of the black dots that clouded his vision.
Someone was running towards him. Peter. The agent was sprinting closer with a look of dread on his face, and a younger woman was running behind him. Peter was saying something, but he couldn't hear anything except for the blood pumping loudly in his ears, reminding him of the hole torn through his side. Neal frowned and tried to focus on Peter, to hear what he was saying.
"Forward, Neal!" he yelled. "Go forward! Robbie, move!" Forward? What was he talking about?
It was then he felt himself swaying, back and forth. Oh. Fall forward. He looked behind him and remembered that he was stood on a ledge, and that falling backwards probably wasn't his best bet for survival. In fact, looking behind him hadn't been his greatest idea either, because he found himself heading in that direction. He decided that closing his eyes might prompt the sweet release unconsciousness provided so that he wouldn't have to feel all his bones break when he hit the sidewalk.
He was denied the opportunity to disappear over the ledge, though, when he suddenly felt someone grip his shirt and yank him closer. Neal opened his eyes just in time to see Peter's chest come closer as his legs gave way and he crumpled into the agent.
Peter had his arms around him and was dragging him away from the edge as soon as he made contact, and he could feel himself being gently lowered to the ground. Then, the pain resonating in his side was awakened in an excruciating way as he watched Peter press his jacket to the wound.
"Hey, Neal, I've got you, now. I've got you. Stay awake, okay?" he said, leaning closer so Neal could see him. He was trying to stay awake, dammit, but everything was so painful, he didn't want to have to experience it anymore if he didn't have to.
He dimly registered a younger man coming forward to keep the pressure on his side, and then his upper body was being lifted slightly and Peter's arm was supporting him, his other hand cupping his face.
"Neal?" he demanded, and the conman trained his blurry gaze onto Peter.
"You c-called me 'Neal'." he gasped, grinning despite the torment.
Peter choked a laugh. "Yeah, I called you 'Neal'," he said. "I think getting shot warrants a first-name basis, don't you?"
"I already c-call you by your f-first name." he stuttered. "Who s-shot me?"
"A fucking probie." Peter growled. "Who doesn't work for the FBI anymore."
"S'dark." Neal argued, blinking heavily again. "M'wearing black like t-they are. Easy m-mistake."
"Right, it was dark, and he shot at you knowing there was a child close by. My child." Peter snarled.
"Where is h-he?" Neal asked, lifting his head to try and spot Robbie, but the movement made spikes of pain coarse through his body and he groaned, flopping back into Peter's arms.
"Diana's got him. El's gonna be arriving in a bit so he can sit with her while I'm with you."
"Y-you don' have to do tha'." Neal muttered, trying to push Peter away but only succeeding in tapping his chest. "M'fine with… wha's your name?" he asked in what he hoped was a louder voice, and the guy pressing Peter's jacket looked up.
"Clinton." he answered with an amused smile.
"Me an' Clinton g-got this." Neal murmured, closing his eyes and patting Peter's chest. "You go."
He heard Peter laugh. "If I left you with Jones you'd end up stealing his watch or something… Neal?" Peter asked, and Neal 'mmhmm?'ed.
"Stay awake."
"S'hard." he whispered. He could feel the soothing dregs of unconsciousness creeping closer.
"I know, but please, you've got to keep your eyes open. Come on, let me see those baby blues up close." He jiggled his arm so that Neal's head bounced, but the conman only groaned.
"M'just gonna sleep for a bit." he slurred. "Don' worry."
"No, Neal don't! Neal!"
He couldn't answer though, and he finally gave in and let unconsciousness wash over him.
He woke up to a rhythmic beating somewhere to his right, and Neal frowned, trying to place the sound. Blearily, he opened his eyes and blinked a few times to clear his vision.
He was in a hospital room.
Well, that would explain why he felt so good. Neal could remember being shot on the rooftop and how painful that had been, but he could feel none of that now. He imagined that wasn't going to last very long, though.
"You're awake. About time." a voice said, and Neal lifted his head to see Peter leaning against the wall near the door.
"How long?" he croaked, his voice rough from disuse. Peter pushed himself away from the wall and stepped closer, offering him a cup of water which he gratefully took.
"Two days." the FBI agent replied, sitting down on the chair next to Neal's bed.
Neal handed the cup back to Peter. "How's Robbie?"
"Getting better." Peter replied, leaning back in the chair. "Won't stop asking for you though." he muttered.
Neal grinned. "Great, when can I come round and see him?" he teased.
"Nope, you are not coming anywhere near my house, Caffrey."
"Please?" Neal whined.
"No."
The conman sighed heavily. "Fine," he huffed.
The two fell into silence and Neal closed his eyes. He was still incredibly tired, and he was just about to drop off to sleep when Peter spoke.
"I never thanked you for saving him, Neal." he said quietly, and Neal opened his eyes.
"S'fine." he replied sleepily. "Little bit worried you were going to arrest me, though." he smiled. He went to rub his eyes but his left arm was restrained by something. Frowning, he glanced down to see he was handcuffed to the bedrail.
"Why were you in that storage facility at that time of the night, anyway?" Peter asked in a mild manner, smirking.
Neal didn't answer. He was actually surprised Peter had cuffed him; a small part of him had expected the agent to just let him go once he got out of hospital. He cursed himself for thinking like that and getting his hopes up. Peter was an FBI agent, of course he wasn't going to let a criminal go.
Peter must have seen the anxious look on his face because his smile slipped away. "What, you can't pick these?" he gestured to the handcuffs, and Neal's bitterness was replaced with confusion.
"Peter?" he asked with a frown.
Peter heaved a great sigh, looking around the room. "You saved my son," he began. "And that means I… owe you." Neal could tell he was saying it with obvious difficulty, but that didn't stop a smile from spreading across his own face.
"Peter…" he said, smiling sweetly.
"This means we're even." Peter said, still serious. "Stop smiling."
"I don't think I can." he teased. "You really are a big softy."
"I'm not. I'm making sure I don't owe Neal Caffrey a favour." Peter answered grumpily. He got to his feet.
"You've got 24 hours once you leave this hospital, and then I'm back on your trail." he said.
"24? Peter, I've been shot. 72, at least." Neal argued.
"48 hours, and that's final." Peter ordered, heading towards the door. He paused before he left, his hand on the door handle and his head bowed.
"Thankyouforsavingmyson." he said in a rush.
"What was that? I didn't hear you." Neal asked loudly, smiling at Peter's blush.
"You heard me, Caffrey. Now get some rest." He opened the door, and looked back at Neal one last time.
"See you around, Peter."
"God, I hope not. Only when I'm arresting you." the agent retorted.
"Once I'm out, can I visit Elizabeth and Robbie?"
"No. Never." Peter snapped, but Neal could see the twitch of his lips. With that, he left the room, leaving Neal with a grin on his face.
FIN