Partners 1a

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Peter walked towards his bedroom trying to figure out when he left the light on but not thinking too much about that detail as he just needed to run in to grab his service revolver and badge. He'd had the day off for once, running a few errands he'd been avoiding.

Elizabeth was off at a conference for her work and he was glad for that especially when he got the phone call that Neal had taken his anklet off. His wife liked the young con and although he had a bit of a soft spot for the kid himself, he had to be reasonable: Neal was a con artist, plain and simple. Neal meant well but his idea of helping didn't always bode well and if he had really taken off his anklet, there was nothing Peter could do to help him this time. They weren't working on a case so he couldn't make any excuse for the young man.

Peter sighed, pushing open the bedroom door and pausing briefly as he heard the cocking of a gun off to his right. He made a movement to turn towards the sound when someone pushed him out of the way as the gun went off. Peter fell to the floor and looked at the limp figure laying on top of him. It was Neal. The young man's hands were bound with plastic ties and his mouth gagged with duct tape. He was also bleeding heavily from a shoulder wound, his face tight with pain.

"Neal? What are you doing here?" Peter checked out the young man's wound quickly then turned his attention back to the gunman, but it was too late as someone cuffed him across the back of the head with something blunt. Blinding pain overcame him and he lay stunned, face down on the floor, voices and sound coming to him in bits and pieces, his ears ringing from the pain.

"We'll make it work." It was Fowler's voice that he heard, the rest of the conversation a vague murmuring.

Peter wanted to wake up, move... do something, but his body wouldn't respond. He felt hands grasp at him, his eyes still closed, body unresponsive, but he felt himself being moved. He winced slightly as the knot on the back of his head hit the floor but otherwise he was still paralyzed from the blow.

He heard the sound of a gun cocked again, the same silver automatic that had shot Neal he thought, just before horrible pain whacked his body. His chest felt as if someone had hit him with a 2 x 4 and then stuck a burning torch into it, his breath catching in his throat and making it hard to do more than gasp for air. His chest burned with pain, a slight warmth bubbling up and staining his shirt. He shuddered slightly before feeling something cold and metallic pushed into his hands and then removed. Peter could hear Fowler speaking and other voices fading slowly into the background as he lost consciousness completely.

(dream)

"Honey, he means well. You know that right?"

His beautiful wife, Elizabeth was speaking to him. She reached over and took the Leisure section from the pile of newspaper on the table in their kitchen. They were eating breakfast, the sun shining in through the window over the sink.

Peter scowled a slight bit but then nodded.

"I know he means well but this is my home. He has to know he can't just show up and invade my sanctuary!"

He took a bite of his toast, crunching it a bit harder than he meant to in his frustration, watching his wife smile at him knowingly.

"You know Neal worships you. You told me yourself he said he 'trusts' you."

Peter paused a moment looking at her thoughtfully and thinking about what she was saying.

Neal Caffrey for all his faults was basically a good person. He was dishonest, tricky and impulsive but basically a good guy from what Peter had discovered while working with him. He couldn't deny that his wife was right. She was always right.

Peter smiled across the table at his wife, standing up to give her a quick kiss when...

Peter heard another voice and felt a strong hand grasping at his right as he awoke from the dream. The voice sounded familiar but it was hard to concentrate when his whole body was wracked with pain. He fought around it, pushed it aside with some effort trying to hear the voice.

"Peter? It's Neal... can you hear me?" there was an audible sigh of tired frustration. Peter felt his hand squeezed gently and fought to respond, his hearing getting better as he started to gain consciousness.

"I'm sorry for everything... maybe if I had stayed in prison and served my term... none of this would have happened."

Peter's eye's opened partially, a blurry vision of someone sitting beside him. The figure slowly cleared to reveal Neal combing a hand through his hair, slumping back tiredly against a pile of boxes as he pulled his left hand from the agent's. Peter grasped at the young man's hand gently, drawing Neal's attention and a slight smile.

"Peter, you're awake! How are you feeling?" The young man looked pale, a guilty expression upon his face as he looked at Peter's wound.

The agent patted at the young man's arm and returned the smile.

"Don't... blame your...self, Neal." There was a short pause as he fought back the pain before he quipped.

"and I feel like I got run over by a train." Peter coughed, catching his breath, then continued.

"Your anklet... it's gone?" Neal pulled up his jean and nodded in response.

"Fowler. He had his guy cut if off to get to you. He made sure both of our prints were on the gun... Everyone's going to think I shot you, hid the body and ran!" The young man turned his face away, flushed with anger and maybe shame at not being able to do more.

Peter patted him on the arm and coughed a moment before speaking again.

"I know you, Neal. You'll do the right thing. I trust you."

Peter smiled at the young man a moment before he felt what little energy he had fade, the pain return and consciousness leave him. His last memory was of Neal looking down at him with honest concern and the following thought: "Maybe Elizabeth is right about him after all... she's always right."

(Meanwhile...)

Elizabeth was frustrated but more than that she was angry that she didn't know more about what happened between Peter and Neal at their house. She believed Agent Jones when he said it smelled like a setup. She knew, although it was more a feeling than anything, that Neal wouldn't hurt Peter.

Living with her husband all these years she had learned a lot about criminals but especially Neal Caffrey. The con wasn't a killer and with all her interactions with him he had always been polite, upstanding and unusually charming. He was impulsive and perhaps a bit devious for sure but that was part of his personality. He was gentle and in some ways naive like a little boy. He wouldn't hurt anyone, especially Peter. Something else was going on here and Elizabeth planned on finding out what had happened to her husband and Neal.

She turned at the sound of the bedroom door opening. Jones had volunteered for the detail to watch her which had come to a relief for Elizabeth and she smiled at him as he peeked inside.

"Is everything OK? We were thinking about ordering Chinese if you're interested." She nodded back at him.

"I'm good. Any news about Peter and Neal?" He smiled less confidently at her, closing the door slightly as he stood there looking at her with a contrite expression on his face.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Burke. This just isn't looking very good for finding Peter or Neal." He looked genuinely upset, moving to leave when she stood up and walked over, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you. I like broccoli beef if they have it and steamed rice." He nodded with a slight smile and exited the room, closing the door behind him.

Elizabeth sighed, walking around the room quickly, pacing the length as she tried to calm down. Peter was alive. She felt it in her heart and she wasn't going to think otherwise. She turned and walked back to the nightstand of the safe house room and sat on the edge of the bed.

It was Sunday afternoon already and there had been no clues as to where her husband might be (dead or alive) or Neal's whereabouts. Of course they checked out all the hospitals and clinics thinking Neal would get treatment for his wounds, but nobody matching his description had been found and no body matching her husband's description had been discovered, so for now she could only believe they were both OK.

Elizabeth rocked her feet back and forth along the edge of the bed, her mind mulling over everything she'd seen and heard over the last 24 hours when her phone buzzed. She picked up the cell and glanced at the screen. She had a new text message. The number wasn't familiar but she opened it up anyhow curious.

(From Thirsty:) I thought you looked like you could use a drink. Jimmy Burger has been out of commission but hoping for a come back. Keep an eye out for "specials" on Fowl. (end of message)

Elizabeth blinked at the odd assortment of words and then it hit her... there had been that case when June's granddaughter was bumped from the organ donor list: It was a case Neal had brought to Peter and they had ended up investigating a crooked doctor and clinic. She had found it cute her husband had been undercover and forced to flirt with a line like "You look thirsty." Then Neal had disappeared and they'd received a strange fax at home with the name "Jimmy Burger" that Peter had revealed was a secret code from Neal. So if she had to take a guess, the first line was telling her this text was from Peter and he was OK. She hugged the phone, reading the message again, and smiled. She read the second line and guessed it had to do with Neal and he was hurt in some way. She felt a motherly pang of concern for the young man then kept reading. The last line threw her though and she wondered what it meant when she heard the door open. She pushed the phone behind her and under a pillow and glanced over as an agent other than Jones peered inside.

"Mrs. Burke, just wanted to be sure you were safe." She scowled a bit at the stout agent, his white blond hair one of the reasons she remembered him along with his beady little eyes. He opened the door wider and walked in without asking which bothered her even more. Jones stood behind the agent looking somewhat apologetic.

"I just wanted to assure you, we are doing everything in our power to find Caffrey and find out where he may have left your husband's..." She cut him off there, her face livid.

"I refuse to believe my husband is dead yet, Agent..." He finished the sentence for her.

"...Fowler of OPR." She nodded stiffly, eyes flashing in anger.

"So until you or I hear otherwise, please refrain from speaking about my husband as if he were already dead!" Elizabeth didn't hold back on the agent, regardless of how everyone else treated him, she wasn't going to put up with him telling her what he thought was right. Something about him rubbed her the wrong way, raising her hackles and making her want to slap him.

Agent Fowler blinked at her but smiled regardless as if he didn't care for her opinion one way or the other and found it all amusing. Elizabeth wanted to smack the smirk off his face but refrained from violence, her voice calm but firm.

"Agent Fowler was it?" he nodded at her with that smirk still firmly planted on his face.

"I hope you will give due justice to more than just circumstantial evidence? There were no witnesses, and I remember seeing items that could prove otherwise..."

His face seemed to pale a moment, the smirk softening to something a bit more to the effect of anger but anger from being discovered. Elizabeth hid that she noticed his discomfort, putting it on her list of things to investigate.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to be left alone." She stood up to the agent despite being a good head shorter than him and he backed away and nodded in a way that made her think he knew more than he was telling.

"I'll keep in touch, Mrs. Burke." She nodded in a not so friendly manner back with a tight smile and reached for the door. She noticed an almost "way to go" smile from Jones that was quickly hidden as Fowler passed him just before she closed the door completely.

Elizabeth sighed, pacing the floor again and feeling alot more scared than confident now that she was done with the man. Something about Agent Fowler grated at her and made her want to find out what was behind that smirk. She thought about the evidence she had seen in the bedroom. Among the items had been what appeared to be a "gag" consisting of one of her scarfs and duct tape along with what Hughes had described as "ties." Someone had been tied up or otherwise immobilized which made her wonder about things. It wasn't like Neal to tie people up and she doubted Peter used ties when he had handcuffs...

She pulled the phone back out from under the pillow and reread the message. Peter was alive and well! Who else could have sent her such a message? Elizabeth wiped a few tears of relief from her face, turning as someone knocked softly on the door and it opened up. It was Agent Jones and he held a box of Chinese food, a paper plate, napkins and plastic utensils.

"Mrs. Burke, your food is here." He placed it on a dresser next to the door and started to leave when she motioned for him to come back in.

"Agent Jones, I have a question for you." The young man looked at her quizzically then closed the door partway behind him and leaned on it, nodding at her to continue.

"Thank you first off. I heard you volunteered for this detail?" He nodded at her smiling.

"Your husband is a great agent and I would do anything to help him and his family out." She smiled at his reply and continued.

"You said something about a "set up?" She whispered the last phrase so he could read her lips and then continued.

"Any ideas?" He shook his head with a helpless shrug.

"I'm sorry. I can't give you any names because I don't have any but I'll keep my ear to the wall for you. Anything else?"

She looked at him as he made to open the door and thought about telling him about the text then thought better of it for now. She didn't want him to be compromised between helping her and doing his job.

"Thanks for the food, Clinton." He nodded back at her and closed the door behind him as he left.

Elizabeth walked over and grabbed the plate, Chinese take out box and utensils. She opened up the box and started to shovel a bit of the food out onto the plate when she heard the buzz of her phone again. She put the items back on the dresser, locked the door quietly and walked over to the bed. She had a new text message.

(From Thirsty:) Jimmy is doing better and plans are to go "national." Your drink order will arrive soon. Watch out for the Fowl. Have our plans ready to visit in June. (end of message)

Elizabeth smiled and tried to work out the details of the message as she walked back over to her food and brought it back to the bed to eat.