(Chapter 4)

"Danny!"

He turned, looking at his Aunt Ellen curiously, the 9 year old slightly embarrassed she'd found him at the pool hall. Most of the time he was on his own, his mother off in her own world when he was home or out so he took the time to do what he needed to survive and right now this shot was important. The older boys and men were smirking at him now, one of them, a large hispanic guy grinning with one gold tooth.

"Danny... I thought you said your name was Felix? You conning us kid?"

Danny narrowed his eyes up at the man, his mind still on the shot. Just one shot and he would have enough money to deal on his own for the rest of the month. Not that his mother didn't have money but sometimes she forgot to take care of him and he liked having his own cash.

"Middle name... 8 ball in the right side pocket."

The man smirked back, something in his manner dangerous but Danny only had to deal with him this once. He wouldn't have to come back for a while and this guy wasn't a regular. He had to get this shot. It took a moment, his manner tense but Ellen didn't call to him anymore as he concentrated and made his shot.

A few minutes later he was walking outside happily counting his dough, Hermi cursing that he'd been beat by a shrimp but honoring his promise. He'd forgotten about Ellen for the meanwhile a hand grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and pulling him aside.

"Pool sharking... Danny..."

He wasn't sure what to feel if it was shame or not although he was definitely proud of his feat and the $1000 he'd managed to win before she dragged him down around the corner like an angry mother. He pushed the money in his pocket but she held out her hand when they were alone and he handed it to her with a frown as she quickly counted it.

"1000 dollars... I can't believe you're pool sharking at your age. Figures. You won this fair and square?"

Ellen's tone had changed and finally he nodded, a slight smile on her face.

"Fine, keep it but don't let your mother know. Bad enough she asked me for a loan the other day but I guess if you're doing this for cash she's not getting you enough to eat. You're nothing but bones... come on. Dinner on you tonight. We'll take something back for Angie."

She wasn't mad at him, understanding how his life was. They weren't rich and with his mother drinking and working a few night shifts, he was always on his own. Ellen was the only solid thing he had in his life at the moment.

"How about that fancy place on the corner? I've always wanted to see the inside..."

He watched her smile back at him but shake her head.

"Burger and fries is better than lobster. Trust me. The fancy stuff is just big and empty, Danny. Not as fulfilling as you might think. I have the truck parked around the corner."

The memory started to fade, his mind fighting to keep it in place but the darkness flooded in like a tidal wave and slowly he came to.

"If he thinks we're going to let him go after everything we went through, HE's mistaken. If this doesn't draw him out then we kill both of them. Shouldn't take too much to get past security at the hospital."

It was Carson talking, the other voices unfamiliar as he opened up his eyes and stared down at a dirty concrete floor. He dangled a few inches above it, arms over his head bound and supporting his weight as the pain slowly came to him and he groaned softly.

"Looks like our guest has woken up. Go make preparations."

Neal struggled slightly, head throbbing as he tried to raise it and look around. There was a rag stuffed in his mouth, tape over his lips as someone walked over, footsteps ringing in the space as a hand came into view. It grasped his chin, raising his head up until he was eye to eye with steel blue ones he recognized. The man smiled coldly at him, removing the tape and gag as he kept hold of his chin securely.

"Glad to see you're awake once again, Mr. Caffrey. Shame we had to meet this way but it seems your friends know about me. Be glad I only left them with a small headache. Cooperate and they will remain safe."

Nausea threatened him as he listened to the man, comprehending only a little of what he said. Who had a headache? Was someone else with him? Neal felt his stomach rebel, his mouth opening despite any conscious effort to stop it as he threw up on the man. Carson glared at him, making a motion as he removed his soiled jacket and another man came and pulled him down. Neal collapsed to the cold floor and just lay there, stomach hurting, head aching and coughing up a bit more liquid but nothing more as he remained bound by the wrists.

"Clean him up and then bring him to my office. Mr. Caffrey and I need to discuss some things."

()()()

It was noon when they finally checked into a hotel under the name Mr. and Mrs. Cooper per Hughes telling them to stay anonymous. Satchmo was doing better but was left with their family vet for observation when he got sick. She said it was probably the after effects of the chloroform. Same symptoms humans get: headache, nausea and tiredness. He would be fine in a day or two. They told her to keep this quiet, the young woman understanding as she took the yellow lab under her care and the two left with Jones and some other agents as their escort. At least they were at a nice hotel, Reese telling them to just bite the bullet for a few days, Bureau orders while they were kept out of sight.

El went and took a shower first, the bathroom bigger than their bedroom but it was the Bureau paying out for their protection as they searched for Caffrey. He was actually surprised they sponsored it but Reese said it was due to both of their loyal service over the past 3 years. Much as Peter had been temporarily suspended, the higher ups understood the closure record that both Agent and Consultant had registered was significant to the department and bureau. Hughes had pulled some favors owed out of the wings to help. It made Peter glad for friends in the department like his boss but also that they were actively searching for Neal despite what some may say about him. He was a great asset to their department. He helped more than anyone wanted to admit and now they were finally admitting it when he was missing. He gave a heavy sigh as he slumped back onto the sofa and switched on the TV.

"In the news today, the body of a man was found behind a warehouse just hours ago. The fire department was called to the scene of a small fire where homeless often congregate and found the body on fire in a shed behind the Paragon building. A cell phone found near the crime scene, family being contacted before the name of the victim will be released publicly... in other news..."

Peter sat up, looking at the images on the screen and wanting to rewind it when El came out and glanced at him curiously.

"Hun... what's wrong?"

She looked at the screen but he turned it off before she could see, uncertain he should tell her unless it was absolutely certain. Lots of people had cell phones like that...

"Nothing... I'm going to take a shower and wash up."

They hugged, her eyes quietly asking him what was wrong but he just smiled. It couldn't have been Neal. He was almost certain of it as he went into the bathroom and closed the door, pulling out his cell from his pocket. It didn't ring and he gave a relieved sigh, shrugging out of his suit since he had planned on going to work when everything went down. He hung it up nicely, cell phone stuck in one pocket as he slipped into the roomy shower and turned on the hot water. A few minutes later he was out, drying himself off when he heard a quiet beep. He pulled on a pair of boxers and a robe, walking over to his suit jacket and pulling out his cell. He had a new text.

Jones: Be ready in 20 mins. Hughes wants to see you.

This didn't sound very good as he finished pulling on his slippers and moved out into the main room. El was looking up at him from the bed, a curious glance on her face as he started getting dressed.

"Where are you going, Peter? I thought we were staying in."

He sighed and shook his head, pulling on jeans and a green polo as he sat on the edge of the bed and put on socks.

"Hughes wants to see me. I'll be back soon."

She nodded as they hugged and kissed and he headed out the door.

()()()

"It's not him, Reese!"

Peter stormed out of the room and over to his old office and sulked inside. Forensics had found some signs that the man might be Neal but he was certain it couldn't be. His friend had been asleep in their guest room when he left the house. Why would he have his cell? He looked up at the knock on the door and saw his boss there, a frown on his face indicating he was just as upset by the news.

"They matched the blood and teeth, Peter. Even the anklet. It's Caffrey... I'm sorry. Take a few minutes. I'll have Barrigan drive you back. I've already let Patterson know you'll be off for a week."

He was too angry to reply, giving a terse shake of his head as he turned his chair and stared out the window of his office. The city lay stretch before him but his mind was going back to his friend. Neal wasn't dead. There wasn't... He suddenly wondered if Ellen knew, remembering her room number and dialing quickly.

"St. Anthony's Hospital, how may I direct your call?"

Peter hoped she was still there, that the Marshals hadn't moved her yet.

"Room 315."

He left it at that, hoping for the best when the operator became quiet then finally spoke.

"I'm sorry sir but that room is not able to accept calls."

She was about to hang up, he knew it so he did what he could.

"I need them to know that Danny disappeared. Tell them that."

There was silence again then a sigh and the woman replied.

"I'll do what I can sir. Thank you for calling."

The call ended, Peter leaning back in his chair and sighing heavily. Neal wasn't dead. Something about the whole incident stunk but much as it could have been his partner, it wasn't Neal. Too many coincidences and why would they hide the body in plain sight? He sighed again, turning the chair when he heard someone knocking on his office door. It was Diana.

"Boss... I just heard. I'm sorry. Are they certain it's Caffrey?"

He didn't know what to say, heartache evident but he had to find out the truth. Was this Neal? He was almost certain it couldn't be.

"That's what they say... I guess you're here to take me home?"

She nodded, a few other agents outside obviously backup. He nodded tiredly, pulling out his phone and making a quick call.

"Peter? Is everything ok?"

He wasn't sure how he was going to tell her what happened although he was almost certain it wasn't true.

"It's fine. I'll tell you everything when I get back. They're bringing me back now. I'll be there soon. Love you."

He heard El breathe a sigh and could imagine her face as she replied, the call ending as he followed Diana into the elevator with their entourage. She put a hand on his arm as the doors shut.

"It will be ok, boss."

()()()

He was exhausted, cold and tired. They put him in a freezer hoping he would cooperate but he had refused to tell them anything, not that he knew anything. Carson (the man hadn't given him any other name) let his goons beat him up, nothing serious but enough to keep him out of it as he was drugged and dropped in the freezer, wrists zip-tied behind him where he slumped against a wooden crate.

"Danny... I'll be home late. Don't wait up."

He blinked, turning to see his mother standing there in the freezer. What was she doing here?

He gave a tired nod, sitting back on the sofa and letting the TV take his attention as she left without another word. It was a surprise she bothered telling him anything. Mornings were his friend when she was asleep in her room or possibly still gone. Danny would fix breakfast, something he had become good at and set the table as if there were more than just himself there. He had started the ritual when he was 7 and it had continued even now when technically someone else should be raising him other than the 12 year old he was. Ellen was always happy when he cooked for her, teaching him a few quick and dirty recipes but mostly he watched the food shows and read lots of books at the library. Being on his own made for lots of spare time and he filled his mind with anything he could to occupy it. Cooking was only one of his hobbies and he was a growing boy so he had to eat.

The door shut and he was suddenly sitting up, a smile on his face. He was alone now and he had plans. Ellen was busy with poker night but said he could come join if he liked. For once he had declined playing cards, the 12 year old good at card sharking too but today he had other fish to fry. He was tall and lanky for his age but he needed to test something out, going down the hallway to his bedroom and opening up a loose board under the carpet.

Felix Jenkins / 18

He smiled at the ID and pushed it into his wallet, grabbing up some cash from his small stash, locking it all up. His mother went through his room sometimes when she wanted money but this was his. He had spent his afternoons doing errands for people, making a few fake IDs for the friends he did have and pool sharking to go where he wanted tonight. He went to the closet and found the clothes he had specially prepared for this night. If everything went right, he would be exactly where he wanted, nobody the wiser. Danny got undressed, walking over to the bathroom and showering quickly, smoothing out his hair and putting on some cologne he had hidden away. He could fake being older. Danny had done it to get on the city bus with his fake pass when he was 7. They thought he was 12 then. Now he could pass for 17 if not 18 under the right circumstances. He didn't often look the part but he could play it off with all the reading he did. Knowledge was power and people were often fooled by his ability to talk on many subjects most people his age would hardly grasp. Add that he was faking being an adult made it all the more interesting and fun. He toweled off, going back to his room and pulling on his clothes, looking in the mirror until everything was just right. Hopefully nobody would recognize him but he could blend in, vanish if need be. This was his special night.

()()()

Peter was happy to be back in the hotel room, El hugging him and looking somewhat sadder than he left her.

"I saw the news... You don't think..."

He was shocked she knew, something he hoped to let her down easy with but he was almost certain it wasn't Neal. It just... he had to hope it wasn't.

"No... but everyone else does."

They were alone, Diana leaving to have a date with Christie. She bid them good evening, their guards outside and one in the outer room. It was odd not being at home or having the dog with them but they could pretend for a bit it was a vacation from their lives if not for the element of danger and their missing friend.

"Peter... does Ellen know?"

He shrugged, the agent now in sweats and a tee, his wife in yoga pants and a loose tunic top, both comfortable on the bed and trying to relax despite the news. It wasn't easy.

"I left a message at the hospital. They said the room couldn't take calls which means she might still be there. I wish I could tell you more but there's just so much I can't."

El nodded, her arm wrapped around him as was his around his wife, her head gently resting on his shoulder.

"It's ok. I know he has secrets. I'm guessing it has to do with whatever happened with his family? Ellen wouldn't tell me much at all but I heard what you two talked about when you went searching for Neal."

She curled up a bit closer, a slight tremor as if she were cold. Peter wrapped his arms around her, pulling a blanket over them both as they just lay there trying to find comfort in the other. Neal was alive. They both felt it. It was evident she didn't want to believe the news any more than he did. For now he would leave out what he'd been told. They had enough heartache.

()()()

Danny smiled, slipping out of the cab across the street as he watched people entering the gala at the art museum. He had forged his invitation weeks ago when he found out the cost of the entrance fee. If he'd had the money he would have gladly donated to such a worthy cause but he was 12 and lucky he had enough money to subsist for the month. It was casual dress for the most part, his clothes carefully picked when he cased the few patrons (mowing yards for cash) to get a copy of the invitation for his own means and learned more about the event in general. He could always say he had wealthy parents. There were some younger people here as he moved across the street to blend in and smiled as someone took his invite.

"Welcome Mr. Jenkins."

He walked through the crowd, going to the main exhibits and looking at the prize he had worked to come see. They had some very rare pieces here, mostly why the show cost so much to get into. Seeing a real Matisse, an actual Picasso up close made him shiver in delight. It was more fun when someone approached him asking what he thought of the pieces, a 20 something man who appeared to think he knew it all. Danny blew his socks off but the man smirked slightly obviously unimpressed with his idealistic view of the art. The man was only concerned with price which upset the young man. To each their own. He was in hog heaven, all these rare pieces things he wished he could own but alas... he was not that person.

"I have a Gauguin in my collection. If I could get this one, but it's a private collection that donated it for the show. Not for sale..."

Someone was talking about the item so callously, it almost made him feel sick. Neal didn't like the atmosphere, moving around to find patrons with more opinions about the pieces that he felt fit his own ideas. Nobody did, most of these people here for the prestige of the event rather than the art. What did he think he would find here? He left after a half an hour, not feeling the same as he had before. These people spent so much money to just have bragging rights and nothing more. They didn't appreciate what they had where others would be happy with much less. The cab ride home was quiet, his mind taking in all he had seen and heard. He learned so much about the world and sometimes he wondered if he really fit into such a cold cruel place. The idea of his father came back to him when he saw a police car pass, lights on. If the art world didn't satisfy him, he could be a hero like his late father. It had passed through his mind once or twice to do that. It seemed the natural route to take if he wanted to be a better person, fix the world.

He shivered, looking up as his breath frosted in the air. It wasn't that cold was it? It was the middle of July. He wrapped his arms around himself, body trembling some until slowly the scene seemed to melt and warp and another took itself place. Someone was touching his neck, their hand warm, face blurry.

"He's alive. You sent the message didn't you? His friends think he's dead but HE will come for him and we'll be waiting. You told him where didn't you? The sniper is waiting and this one... he'll be a popsicle before any one's the wiser. This place won't be found... anytime soon."

Now he remembered. Carson, the false agent whoever he really was was using him but for what purpose he didn't understand. The man grasped his chin and made him look up at those steely blue eyes. There was no emotion there.

"It's a shame you don't remember anything about your past when you look so much like him. (Seal the door shut.)"

Carson let go, Neal slumping back, his body unresponsive from whatever they'd given him and the cold. The door shut, leaving him in the dimly lit room, only enough light coming in through the glass window. He wondered who the man meant. His mind was as numb as his body, wrists tightly bound behind him as were his ankles. He let his eyes close, unable to stay awake any longer as his mind wandered back into the past again.

"Kid... we're back."

Had he fallen asleep? Danny nodded at the driver, paying the man and slipping out. It was just after 10 PM. His mother wouldn't be home for a while if at all. Ellen was still at her poker game he thought as he slipped inside and went upstairs to change. The gala had not been the event he had hoped for, nothing but stuffed shirts there and no real art lovers he could identify with. It left a bad taste in his mouth as he pulled on some loose knit pants and a tee, laying back on his bed as he stared up at the ceiling and sighed. He was still taken with the sight of such famous pieces, amazed at how small or large they were compared to store reproductions. He had many fakes he'd paid for with his own cash in his room but also some of his own he'd made that were close to but not perfect matches to the original. He was still learning for someone his age but it was fun to try and copy the masters he idolized. He heard footsteps down the hallway, something making him sit up and listen. They were too heavy to be his mom's or Ellen's.

()()()

Peter had a nightmare, a young Neal narrowly being missed by a car. He heard the boy crying, watching as two blurry figures he couldn't quite make out came to the boy's rescue. What did Neal look like as a child, he tried to imagine and his father. Did he look like Neal? The face changed to one that matched his partner's features, the mother too but it was only his imagination filling in blanks for things it didn't know. It wasn't real as he thought back to Ellen's tale. This had happened before.

He woke up, glancing around the room and relaxing some when he felt his wife still curled up in his arms. Her breath was soft, tickling his neck as he tried to figure out what had woken him from the dream he had been having. A quiet buzz caught his attention and he gently extracted himself from his wife's grasp, kissing her before he went into the bathroom and gazed at the glowing screen of his cell in the darkness.

Unknown Number: Argon Frozen Foods. Warehouse 8.

What was this? Peter read the message a few times uncertain what to think as he closed it and made a quick call.

"Think in the morning. Act in the noon. Eat in the evening. Sleep in the night. (Blake) You're doing it wrong Suit."

Mozzie's voice was raspy with sleep, a not so happy sound to it as Peter sighed.

"I apologize Mozz but I think I found Neal... or at least a clue to his possible whereabouts."

He heard a sound of something clicking on which he figured was a light or lamp, footsteps evident and the scraping of a chair on a floor.

"I'm listening..."

Peter told him about the news report not so surprised the con had come to the same conclusion.

"Whoever his father burned, they aren't playing games. They want Neal's current life to forget about him but probably looking to use him for something. Move him somewhere else. What's the clue?"

Peter read him the text, the little guy making a sound like he was writing something down.

"I'll check it out. Thanks, Peter."

Mozzie's voice was quiet, the agent realizing his name had been used but the con had already ended the call. Just like Mozz to do that, Peter sighed as he put the cell away and went back into the bedroom.

"Hun... who were you talking to?"

He slipped back into bed but he was far from sleepy as he wrapped his arms around his wife and hers around him.

"Just a hunch. Go to back to sleep, honey."

She nodded sleepily, her head leaning on his chest as he tried to relax and rest. Too many thoughts were running through his head like who had sent the message and what did it have to do with Neal. He wanted to call Jones or Diana but it was 2 AM and this was unsanctioned, especially with him and El being in protection. Nobody could know they were here and he couldn't leave with the agents actively watching them. Mozzie was the only hope he had to see what was going on with this lead if it was that.

oOoOoOo

Author's Note: Neal is in danger still from his past, Carson (or whoever he is) using him as bait for some mysterious person. Peter and El are in protective custody and Mozzie is following a mysterious text. More excitement to come and my guesses on Neal's past as Danny Brooks.