A/N: New chapter. Hope you like! Review, please! Love to hear from you!
As it turned out, Peter knew exactly what he was talking about. Neal awoke in a strange bed in a strange room, wearing very strange clothes. Feeling completely disoriented, Neal shot up in bed to explore his surroundings. The room was small but clean and decorated in a bright, asymmetrical style, almost as if a professional had added her own personal touches.
It didn't take Neal long to figure out that he was at the Burkes, especially since the ill-fitted shirt he was wearing was actually a two-toned jersey for an FBI softball tournament. Neal's mind felt like it was full of cotton, and he tried to think back to how he could end up sleeping in Peter's guest room instead of his place at June's hou-
June. The fire. The hospital. A torrential flood of memories invaded Neal's mind and the chilly November morning became a lot less quiet and peaceful in Neal's perception. June was all right though, the young man recalled, vastly relieved by this news. She wouldn't be awake for awhile, and until then he had to figure out a plan to get his stuff back.
Not only did the fire put a damper on his living quarters, June's life, and the granddaughter's home away from home, but it also meant that all of his research on Kate was burned up as well. Neal just prayed the fire department had saved the Bordeaux before it was too late. If they didn't, all of this, the escape, the capture, and the agreement, would all be for nothing, and then Neal would be stuck for four years of loneliness.
He needed to find the bottle. Kate was trying to tell him so much more than goodbye, and Neal needed to know or else take that dismal message at face value.
Tossing the covers off of his legs, Neal got up and sneaked his way out of the room, hearing the voices of Peter and Elle talking in the kitchen. He wasted no time in grabbing a pair of sneakers on his feet, not caring about the style or the fact that they were much to big on him. After tying the laces, Neal crept down the stairs, eavesdropping to ensure Peter and Elle were too preoccupied to notice his leaving, knowing if they found him, he'd lose his chance.
"Are you sure you shouldn't check on Neal?" Elle asked, making the conartist's eyes widen and breath hitch.
"Nah, he usually never eats breakfast. Just let him sleep." Neal exhaled heavily and finally found it safe enough to escape out the front door. As quietly as possibly, the young man slipped outside and shut the door.
A colder-than-usual New York morning made Neal wish he could go back inside to grab a jacket, but he was already wasting too much time by standing on the stoop, shivering. The tracker on his anklet would alert somebody (namely Peter) soon that he was on the move.
Jogging to get his sore muscles working again, Neal started in the direction of June's house.
"I think I'm just going to see if he needs anything," Elle announced, unable to deny her anxiety of just checking on the alleged criminal. As she was about to make her way up the stairs, she heard Peter call out.
"Don't bother. Neal's already on the move."
Elle stopped and reentered the kitchen where a disgruntled Peter was already slipping into his suit jacket.
"What?" she said, hoping her ears were just deceiving her, only the look on her husband's face said otherwise.
"That was Jones. Caffrey's escaped somehow and now he's heading in the direction of June's house. I knew I should've handcuffed him to the headboard." While ranting about this, Peter had reached for his gun and began placing it in his holster.
"Now is that really necessary? He's probably just going to survey the damage." Elle tried to reason for Neal's sake.
"In any case, he's a felon on the loose." Elle was frowning in irritation. Peter sighed, wishing Neal hadn't used such effective charms on his own wife. "I'm not going to hurt him."
"I'm coming with you." Elle announced as she went to grab her jacket from the coat closet. Peter closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, knowing arguing with his wife would only lead to a bigger fight.
After the one worried wife and one huffy husband climbed into the front seats of Peter's sedan, the two were off in the direction of June's place. It was easy to find because a faint smoke signal still bloomed into the cold New York air overhead.
The car slowed at the burned remnants of the once grand mansion. A few things still remained from the treacherous fire, even some walls were left standing in wake, but none of the leftovers seemed good enough to be salvaged.
Turning the car around one the corners, Peter and Elle parked the cruiser against the sidewalk and exited to explore the surroundings for Neal. It didn't take long as the small form was quivering right in the center of the house right where his room used to be. Elle ran over at the sight of him, immediately draping the blanket in her hands across his shoulders.
"Oh, honey, what have you done?" Elle said as she crouched down beside the trembling young man, whose face was sorrowful and teary-eyed from the sight before him. The was a gross collection of broken glass in his hands, causing blood to seep out of his fingers and palms at a slow rate. Neal began shaking his head miserably.
"She's gone… She's… Goodbye." Neal said breathily, clouds of cold air being exhaled from his nearly blue lips.
"Come on, Neal, time to go," Peter said, looping a hand around Neal's bicep and pulling him up roughly. All the emotions in the world wouldn't excuse the fact that Neal had once again escaped to find more information on Kate. Something that Peter had deliberately placed in their agreement for Caffrey to work with him. Not only that, but Neal was being irrational, running in ungodly weather, shoving glass in his palms like an insane vagrant –Peter was intent on putting a stop to all of his drivel the only way he knew how: brute force.
In a daze of total anguish, Neal allowed himself to be pulled along, the blanket slipping off his shoulder in the process. Flabbergasted at her husband's behavior, Elle picked it up and watched incredulous as Peter shoved Neal into the back of the car. Furious, the brunette woman marched right up to Peter and slapped him openly on cheek.
"What was that?!" She yelled shrilly, not caring who saw or heard.
Peter almost had the gall to look shocked but then sobered with an equally angered expression. "If you keep babying him, he's never going to learn that escaping and running off is going to get him locked up for good."
"Right, and pushing him around when he's injured and defenseless is going to make a change?" Elle's cheeks started to turn pink with the chill in the air and the fury flooding through her.
"Yes! He has enough people falling for his charms, and treating him like he's made of glass. He's gotta learn that things aren't always easy and to just suck it up." Peter said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. With the death glare Elle was giving him, he would guess it wasn't so obvious.
"Are you saying I'm just falling for his charms? I don't find him all that charming right now, Peter. I find him downright sorry! And he doesn't need you making it worse for him. I mean look at him!" Peter tilted his head a bit to see behind his wife and into the window of the car.
Neal sat trembling, blood running freely from his open hands, and a look of haunted sorrow masking his handsome features. Peter had to admit the sight was heart-wrenching, but the cop inside of him wouldn't let him see much more. Caffrey was a con and the agent had every reason to be suspicious of him.
Peter looked blatantly into Elle's expression and simply lied like a professional, if only to be done with the maddening argument. "You're right, sweetie, I'm sorry."
She smiled, the stress in her face just melting away, and placed a hand on the cheek she had slapped him earlier on. "It's okay. Let's just get him back home."
After an awkward ride back to the house, mainly consisting of Elle trying to make a conversation with an unresponsive Neal staring impassively into the back of Peter's chair, they all arrived back at the house. Elle went straight away to cleaning the shards out of Neal's hands and wrapping them up into gauze.
Afterwards, Peter, under the careful supervision of Elle, led Neal upstairs into the guest room and stayed until Neal had lied down on the bed and turned his back away as if to signal he had surrendered. Peter and Elle exited the room, and Peter took out a key locked it from the outside. Elle looked incredulous.
"What was all that about you agreeing helping Neal was best for him!?" Elle asked, eyes imploring Peter for an answer.
"Look, we both have jobs that we can't be late for today. Letting Neal stroll around free, especially in this state, that would only make matters worse. By locking this door, I am helping him."
Elle pursed her lips, struggling to weigh the options. She was in the process of planning one of Manhatten's elite couple's wedding, and to miss that would be like telling the apocalypse to wait until she was done watching TV. Not to mention, Peter did have a point. If Neal were to wander off, Neal would get caught and have to go to another trial, risking the chance of being thrown back in prison. With a sigh, she grudgingly conceded to the terms.
"On one condition," And at that phrase, Peter found it appropriate to cringe. "I want you to come back around lunch and make him some food. The poor guy looks like he hasn't eaten in days."
Peter gave an acquiescent, albeit reluctant, nod to the terms, hoping he would remember that when lunch came around. After a quick peck on the lips and another promise from Peter that he would indeed watch Neal for lunch, the two parted ways to their respective jobs.
Peter wasn't about to miss work. Not when he had an arson case to investigate.
A/N: Loved it? Hated it? (like that's possible, haha!) Please, please leave a review, and don't just story alert it. Got that, kid? Yeah, I'm lookin' at you with the weird hair, bub!
