When the World Bleeds Red
Chapter Two: Live
-.-
Life was at a standstill, or so it seemed. Elizabeth sat on the outer porch of her home nursing a cup of green tea. She should have left for DC yesterday. Peter's silent joy when she didn't hadn't escaped her notice.
"One more week, please." She'd asked the owner of the National Gallery. He granted her wish after hearing the situation.
"Our deepest sympathies are with you, Elizabeth. I hope your friend is found soon."
Now it was midday and Elizabeth had yet to move from the seat she'd taken up residence in since an hour ago. Her tea was cold and her legs were cramping from their folded position.
The flowers she'd left unpacked were nodding their heads in time with the wind. Tulips, Peter's favourite. He said they reminded him of her.
According to him, when he'd first spotted her and started following her movements with the surveillance van, he'd passed a flower shop with a bunch of variegated tulips in the window.
The shop lady told him that those particular flowers, when given as a gift, meant 'you have beautiful eyes.'
Elizabeth smiled. She'd laughed and blushed when Peter told her that story. It never ceased to amaze her that one flower could carry such meaning.
Love, as fierce and bright as the sun, filled her chest. 'Would it be selfish of me to move now?' Elizabeth wondered. 'To leave all this behind, to only see Peter on weekends when I can commute?' This question she had been asking herself all night. There was no simple answer. She loved her husband like bees loved honey. In other words, she couldn't live without him.
'And now Neal's been taken. How can I still consider going? Peter needs me here and I won't be able to work properly until I know Neal's safe.'
She bit her lip hard. 'But…what about me?' that tiny, selfish part of her brain thought, 'The National Gallery is a really prestigious job. I'm always playing the supportive wife for Peter. What about my life, my career, my future? Why is it so selfish to want more?'
An itch started on her left arm. She ground her fingers into the spot and didn't stop scratching, even after the sensation was gone.
"Stop." Peter's voice was sudden and jarring. His much larger hand wrapped around her smaller one. "You'll rub your skin raw."
"I didn't hear you come out." Elizabeth shifted on the loveseat to make room for him. Her train of thought slowly lost its steam, leaving her limp. She sagged against Peter when he sat. The dark circles under his eyes showed that he hadn't slept well. Elizabeth wondered if she looked the same. She felt his arm wrap around her and leaned further into the embrace.
"What are you thinking about?" Peter entwined their fingers. His touch was warm and gentle. Elizabeth swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat.
'If I move I won't be able to hold hands with him like this anymore.' She thought.
"Hun?" Peter traced the line of her wrist with his thumb. "Talk to me, I'm worried about you."
"You should be worried about Neal." Elizabeth replied. "How are you going to find him, Peter?"
Peter was about to protest the change of topic but then decided not to push the issue. Elizabeth would talk when she was ready.
"We'll start by reviewing the park footage. There are camera's all around maybe one of them picked something up."
"What about eyewitnesses?"
"Mozzie's taking care of that."
They both fell silent. Elizabeth rested her head on Peter's shoulder. She could feel his muscles clenching and relaxing beneath her head. 'My solid rock.'
"What do you suppose this is all about?" Peter spoke. Elizabeth looked up at him but he was staring at the horizon. He seemed to be talking more to himself than her. "Far too many people seem interested in Neal. Something hasn't sat right with me since the whole music box thing with Kate." He paused. "But that sounds ludicrous when I say it aloud."
"It is a little far-fetched, hun." Elizabeth nuzzled her cheek against Peter's shoulder. "But you'll figure it out. You always do."
"Because I have to." Peter looked down at his hands. "He's my responsibility, El." He twiddled his thumbs. "And he's my friend." He added, so quiet, that Elizabeth almost didn't hear him.
She didn't know what to say in reply, so she just squeezed her hand in his and together they just sat in the midday quiet bliss.
-.-
At two Peter left the house to meet Jones and Diana at the office. He stopped for coffee on the way knowing he'd need all his strength and then some.
Diana stumbled in looking like she'd had a night as bad as Peter's. Jones, ever stoic, wasn't showing much emotion.
"I pulled footage from all the park cameras, Peter." Jones dropped a DVD case on the long table in the meeting room. "Only two had angle's that caught sight of Caffrey."
"Let's see it then." Peter grunted. He took another sip of his espresso and tried to hide the slight shake in his fingers. Diana noticed. She sat beside him.
"How you holding up boss?"
"I'm fine."
Diana's look told him she saw right through the lie. "Now you know I know that's not true."
Jones was placing the DVD in the media centre at the front, not paying much mind to the whispering going on. Peter sighed.
"I don't even know what I'm feeling right now, Diana." He rubbed his temple. "I feel…" he trailed off and shook his head. "Never mind. Let's just do this. We need to find Neal."
"Boss…"
"I can't talk about this right now."
"Okay."
The silence was tense until Jones started the DVD player. When the footage came up Peter leaned forward in his seat.
The angle from the first video wasn't too good. It barely caught Neal walking up to a fellow reading a newspaper. What happened next was anyone's guess because Neal stepped back out of the frame. The second video caught Neal walking from the park railing overlooking the water. Peter blinked rapidly.
"That's it?"
"That's all. No other camera's were recording those areas." Jones sounded apologetic. Peter wanted to shout at him that it wasn't enough. He would never be able to continue convincing the board with such circumstantial evidence.
He pressed his lips together to refrain from saying something he'd later regret. Diana sensed his distress.
"Maybe Mozzie will have better luck with the eyewitnesses." She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You'll find him, Peter. You always do."
Peter pushed away from the table with a huff. "I wish everyone would stop saying that." He strode from the room ignoring his colleague's surprised expressions and went straight for the washroom where he stood at the sink staring at his reflection.
In the silence of the bathroom his thoughts were far too loud. Peter splashed water on his face and tried to block out the noise. He couldn't. He kept replaying his talk with Neal over and over in his mind. The way his shoulders had dropped when he heard the news, the way the light had dimmed from his eyes…
Without thinking Peter punched the mirror. It cracked where his fist connected with the surface. Pain flared through his arm, blood began oozing from his knuckles. He didn't care. Diana's words came back to him.
'You'll find him, you always do.'
Peter closed his eyes. Everyone had such faith in him finding Neal and he was only filled with doubt. If he were being completely honest with himself he'd only found Neal the first time because he'd willingly walked into the storehouse looking for Kate. The second time he hadn't been running he'd been sitting in an empty apartment with nothing but a bottle for company, and the third time Ellen had given him the pager number.
'You'll find him, you always do.' Peter punched the mirror again. What if this was the one time he couldn't?
-.-
When Neal came to he was lying on something soft. He rolled over, groaning when his side screamed in protest. Memories came flooding back. Kinky boots had found him; he'd been re-captured and chloroformed.
'Great.' Neal thought. He rubbed his eyes feeling absolutely miserable. 'Nothing can ever go right, can it?'
He was never one to wallow in self-pity, but after everything that had happened he felt he deserved at least five minutes of sulking. He didn't allow himself to go over the allotted timeframe though. It wouldn't do to get too depressed, it would cloud his judgment and he needed to stay sharp.
Neal sat up when five minutes passed. The pain in his side had dulled from harsh to a low throb. He assessed the situation with a critical eye. He was in a dark room on a small cot. The door was ajar giving way to the only source of light.
The sound of voices reached his ears. They were conversing in low tones with occasional pauses. Neal approached the door with caution. He poked his head around it so only the tip of his nose and one eye showed. A long corridor was before him. No one was in the sight. The voices were coming from the end of the corridor.
Neal withdrew to think. Dare he sneak out? 'These people wouldn't be so lax unless they were sure I can't escape.' He thought. 'They left the door open in all confidence. Maybe they have cameras recording the hallways or grills on all windows. Either way, escaping will not be as easy as last time.'
The room was large enough to allow ample pacing. Neal walked back and forth trying to formulate a plan. Walk, walk, walk – pause, shuffle – turn, repeat. For almost ten minutes he trod back and forth and at the end, still had no plausible plans for escape.
"This is useless." Neal sat on the cot and buried his head in his hands. His fingers curled into his hair like tree roots digging into dirt. 'Don't panic, you cannot lose it now.' His mind told him. Neal tried to agree with the logic but he was slowly losing hope. His life was just one big mess. What was the point in living anymore?
Quick as lightning, another memory hit him. It was so vivid that Neal almost passed out from the sensation. He flopped back on the cot holding his head.
Kate…two days before the plane incident she had contacted him. It was just a simple voice message left in their code. She'd told him how much she loved him and that she was sorry for all the mysterious notes.
"But, Neal." She'd said. "Regardless of what happens after this, no matter what. I need you to promise me something." She paused, and Neal remembered how his heart had clenched, how in that moment, he'd stood on his balcony overlooking the city and felt an icy fear clawing its way into his heart like it knew what was coming ages before he did.
"No matter what happens." Kate's voice was a whisper now. "Promise me you will live." The line clicked dead. Neal lowered the phone from his ear and stared at the city lights until dawn came.
'Live.' Neal thought. His headache was fading. He swung upright still feeling a little woozy from the memory. Kate wanted him to live. He bowed his head for a brief moment. For four years her request had kept him going.
'Promise me you'll live.' Even when he'd felt like giving up after his commutation went south, even after he wanted to call it quits when Ellen was murdered, even when everything in his life seemed like it was crumbling 'promise me you'll live' was what kept him going.
"I promised you." Neal said quietly. "I went back to the hanger and promised you I would."
Neal jumped up. There was no time to lose. Dying was not an option. Giving up was unthinkable.
'I am Neal Caffrey.' He told himself firmly. 'My life may always be hell, but I'll NEVER back down.'
And with those words echoing in his mind, Neal Caffrey strode right out the door, down the corridor and into the unknown.
'Live.'