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One of the reasons this chapter took longer is because it's about five hundred words longer. And the other reason is I wasn't sure where I wanted to go with this chapter, but I figured it out eventually!
Well, on the story!
A week later, Peter went back to the Juvenile Detention Center to visit Neal. Peter had a few questions about Keller and the heist and he hoped Neal could - and would - answer them.
Peter sat at one of the tables in the visiting area while he waited for someone to bring Neal out. There were several other people at other tables, talking to their loved ones. The sounds of all of the voices merged together to the point where Peter couldn't make out any one conversation unless he focused.
After waiting about five minutes, a juvenile corrections officer brought a very small and young looking Neal to the table that Peter was sitting at. He didn't look very much like the kid that Peter had arrested a week ago. If the kid was skinny before, Peter didn't know how to describe the thin boy that was now in front of him. It might have been the large man that was escorting him and the grey jumpsuit he had on that made him look even smaller and skinnier though. He was also sporting several bruises on his face and Peter was pretty sure he was trying to hide a limp.
But when he saw Peter, he smiled, wide and happy. "Peter," he said happily, like he didn't look far too much like the malnourished dog in that alley all those years ago.
"What happened, Neal?" Peter asked as he stood up, not sure if the kid would keel over any second.
Neal looked confused. "What are you talking about?" If he was playing dumb, he was doing one hell of a job at it.
"The bruises," Peter said, gesturing at Neal's face. "And when's the last time you ate?"
Neal looked like he was thinking that over. "About an hour ago," he said after a beat.
Not getting the answers he wanted from Neal, Peter turn to the JCO that lead him in. "What happened to him?" Peter asked, indicating the boy next to him.
If anything, the JCO looked even more confused than Neal. "What do you mean, sir?" he asked, looking from Neal to Peter.
Peter got right up in the man's face. "I don't know what kind of operation you're running here, but if you think that the condition that this kid is in is acceptable, I'll personally see to it that everyone responsible for the mistreatment of him or any other kid in this facility is properly punished," Peter said, nearly shouting but somehow holding himself back.
By the time Peter finished his speech, the JCO was practically shaking in his boots. Neal, on the other hand, was watching with a expression that looked something like admiration, maybe even awe.
"I-uh, umm-" the officer stuttered.
"I want to talk to your supervisor," Peter demanded. The JCO rushed off in a hurry to get his boss.
Peter turned back to Neal, who was smiling up at him like he just did something heroic. "That was awesome," Neal said. "That guy's an ass."
"Watch your language," Peter chided, pointing a finger at the kid and suddenly feeling like the kids dad. Peter idly wondered what the kids life would be like if he was. He definitely wouldn't have broken into a museum and got thrown into Juvie.
Neal was still looking at him, a smile on his face. But his eyes weren't as bright or happy as they were a week ago.
"What happened to you?" Peter asked again, this time softer.
"Me and some guy had a disagreement," Neal said, shrugging, like it was no big deal.
"Did you report it?" Peter asked.
"Well, two of the guards saw it happen, so I didn't really need to," Neal said.
"Did they stop you two?" Peter asked.
"Two?" Neal questioned. "I didn't even hit the guy!" he defended, not happy about being accused.
"Why did he hit you?" Peter asked.
"He wanted my food, said it was his," Neal said, still not looking nearly as upset as he should've been. He seemed more upset about being blamed than being hit and having his food taken from him.
"And you've been giving it to him? Is that why it looks like you've barely eaten since the last time I saw you?" Peter asked.
"It was that or get beat up again," Neal said, almost dismissively.
"There's a third option here, Neal," Peter said. Neal looked and him questionably. "You tell the staff," Peter almost shouted.
"I can fight my own battles, Peter," Neal said.
Peter walked closer and slowly put a hand on Neal's shoulder so he didn't flinch back. "You don't need to," he said softly.
Neal just looked away, shy or maybe embarrassed, so Peter took his hand back off of the kids shoulder.
The JCO came back with an older man that was wearing a suit. "My name is Walter Drisket," he said, extending a hand for Peter to shake. "You wanted to see me?"
Peter ignored the hand. He pointed at Neal. "Are you the one that's allowing this kid to starve and get into fights while under your care? He's skinnier than he was when I brought him in a week ago and he was living on the streets!" he said, not containing his anger anymore.
Neal looked offended. "I wasn't living on the streets," he defended. Peter and Drisket ignored Neal, much to his annoyance.
Drisket had put his hand down halfway through Peter's rant. "Mr...?" Drisket questioned.
"Special Agent Peter Burke," Peter responded briskly.
"Mr. Burke-" Drisket started, only to be cut off by Peter.
"Agent Brurke."
Drisket looked annoyed, but didn't comment. "Right. Agent Burke, I think we should take this somewhere more private. Don't want to cause a scene."
Peter looked around to see that quite a few people were staring, including Neal. Peter didn't want the kid to hear some of what he was planning on saying to Drisket, so he nodded. "Fine."
"Let's talk in my office," Drisket said. "Mr. Carter, take Neal back to his room."
The JCO grabbed Neal by the arm and lead him back from where he came from. Neal turned back to look at Peter as he was lead away, his eyes a little fearful. Then they became resigned as he turned to look ahead again.
Peter and Drisket left the visiting area through a different door. They traveled down a hallway and at the end of it was a door that Drisket unlocked. Both men walked through the door and Drisket walked around the desk that was in the middle of the decently sized office. Peter sat down in a chair in front of the desk after Drisket gestured for him to. He didn't want to be formal about any of this, but he figured he could at least try so he didn't get kicked out.
"Why are you here to talk to Neal, Agent Burke?" Drisket asked.
Peter sighed. He didn't want to go through all of this, but he figured it was the best way to get answers. "As you probably know, Neal was involved in a heist a week ago and I had a few questions about it," he explained.
Drisket nodded. "Okay, and why do you think that Neal isn't being treated properly?" he asked, not unkindly.
Drisket's naïveté angered Peter. "Do you not see that kid?" he asked angrily, then calmed himself before speaking again. "He told me that he got into a fight and his food has been taken from him - I think that's enough to warrant concern," he said. "Why aren't you doing anything about it?"
"There are over two hundred kids in this facility - we can't watch them all every second of the day."
"I understand that, but can't you see that he's a skeleton?" Peter said, not really agreeing.
"One of the only ways a kid can really get help here is if he asks. Neal just simply doesn't ask," Drisket said, shrugging as if it was no big deal. Peter could see that Drisket was a political man - someone that says he'll do what everyone wants, but never actually does, and then gets away with it. Peter hated men like him.
"You'd better start doing something about it, or I'm going to find all of your dirty little secrets and bring them out to the light of day," Peter threatened.
The man's eyes widened in response, but he didn't look very afraid. "Agent Burke, I'll do what I can about the kid that's been bullying Neal, but I don't appreciate threats."
"And I don't appreciate seeing kids being mistreated," Peter snapped back.
"You have to understand, we're not the ones mistreating him. High schools have bully's, just like this place," Drisket said.
Peter knew he wasn't getting anywhere with this man. At least he said that he'd try to help stop the bully. It was all he could hope for from the guy.
Peter stood up. "I think I've heard enough from you," he said, then walked out without another word.
On his way back to the visiting area, a man came up to him. "Sir, are you here to speak with Neal Caffrey?" he asked.
"Yes, I was, and I am going to talk to him now," Peter said as he went to walk around the man, but stopped at his words.
"I'm the man that checked Neal over when he arrived here a week ago."
Peter turned to the man and took a good look at him. He was wearing a white lab coat and had light brown hair that was starting to gray at the tips. The man's brown eyes were soft and kind as he looked at Peter.
"My name is Kevin Harper. I'm the resident physician here," he said as he extended his hand to shake.
Peter took the man's hand in his. "Peter Burke. You wouldn't have stopped to tell me who you are unless you wanted to talk to me about something. I'm assuming it has something to do with Neal."
"There are a few things that I thought you should know about Neal," he said, then looked around. "We should discuss this in my office."
Intrigued by what the man had to say, Peter nodded then followed as Harper lead the way to his office. This one was much smaller than Drisket's, but it had a homier feel to it.
Once they were seated, Harper began. "When Neal came in he had quite a few bruises on his abdomen, so we did some X-rays. They revealed something that I thought you should know about."
"What did they show? Is he all right?" Peter asked, a sinking feeling forming in his gut.
"The X-rays showed that he has two cracked ribs...but it also showed signs of extensive abuse," Harper said slowly.
"What do you mean?" Peter asked. He knew what the doctor was saying, but he didn't want to believe it.
"The X-rays showed that many of Neal's ribs had at one point been broken - more than once," Harper said. "And he also has some scars on his body. When I asked him where they came from, he just shrugged and said that it didn't matter."
"Oh my god," Peter said quietly.
"I only took X-rays of his chest, but I would assume that the rest of his body looks about the same."
"He flinched away from me when I got close," Peter said, feeling a little numb. He had just thought that he was wary of others because of his time on the streets.
Harper leaned forward and put his hands on his desk. "In my line of work, I deal with far too many kids that had been abused, so I know the signs, and I can tell you with certainly that Neal is one."
"Why are you telling me this? Can't you get into trouble?"
"I thought you should know more about him before you speak to him," he said, then a small, secretive smile appeared on his lips. "Besides, I won't tell anyone if you don't."
"Thank you," Peter said sincerely. Harper seemed to really care about Neal and Peter appreciated that. At least someone was looking out for him in this place.
After shaking hands with Harper, Peter left and found his way back to the visiting area. He asked a guard to bring Neal back out then sat down at the same table as he had before.
A few minutes later Neal and the guard came out. Neal looked surprised to see Peter. "You didn't leave," he commented, though he didn't sound so sure of the statement even though Peter was right there.
"Of course I didn't. I barely got the talk to you," Peter said.
The JCO went to lean against a wall a few feet away - out of the way, but close enough to watch them.
Neal sat down across from Peter and smiled. "Talk away," Neal said, gesturing with his hands. He seemed far happier than Peter expected an abused child would be. Of course Peter had never known an abused child, so it was hard to compare.
"Well, I looked you up, but it seems you don't exist," Peter commented.
"A lot of kids my age aren't in the system," Neal said, shrugging.
"Well, what about your parents? What are their names?" Peter asked, trying to get some more information out of the kid.
Something in Neal's eyes darkened and Peter had a feeling he knew why. "It doesn't matter," he said.
Peter knew there was a risk to pushing Neal, but he needed answers. "I bet they would beg to differ."
"What does it matter to you anyway?" Neal asked, his voice rising a little.
"It matters because I need to know where your parents are," Peter said, trying to sound kind but authoritative.
"They don't care where I am," Neal said, looking more resigned than sad - he was used to the fact. Why would a parent not care where their child is? The thought made Peter's heart clench.
"How about I call them and ask just to make sure," Peter offered.
Neal sighed. "You're not going to give up on this, are you?" he asked, looking annoyed.
Peter shook his head. "Nope, now spit it out."
Neal was quiet for a minute, but Peter didn't speak up. He could tell that the kid was working up the courage to tell Peter about his parents. "My mom is dead and my dad is in jail," he finally said, his voice quiet.
Peter's heart ached for Neal. He couldn't think of not having his parents there for him when he was a kid. He still relied on their love and support from time to time when things got tough. Neal didn't have that option.
"Can you tell me their names?" Peter asked quietly.
Neal shook his head and didn't say anything. Peter doubted he would get that out of him.
Peter didn't want to ask his next question because he was pretty sure he knew the answer and he really didn't want to hear it out loud. "Do you have anyone else I could call? An aunt or uncle?"
Neal shook his head. "No," he said simply, and Peter believed him.
"Well, I'd like to talk to you about Keller and the heist," Peter said after a minute.
"What's in it for me?" Neal asked, already wheeling and dealing.
"You'll get the satisfaction of helping out the good guys," Peter said.
Neal laughed at that, then thought for a minute. "I'll help you," he said, then paused for affect before continuing. "On one condition."
Peter sighed, not sure if he liked where this was going. "And what's that condition?"
"You get me out of here," Neal said, making it sound like it was just that easy.
"That's not going to happen," Peter said immediately, shaking his head.
"I know you're not going to just cut me loose and let me me merry way, but I could be in your custody, as a consultant," he said.
"The FBI doesn't hire sixteen year olds," Peter said.
"You're not hiring me, I'd just give you guys advice and help you with cases."
"You want to be a snitch?" Peter asked, doubtful.
"Snitch is such a harsh word. I think consultant sounds better," he said, flashing Peter a winning smile.
"Whatever the name, it's still not gonna happen," Peter said, shaking his head.
"Come on, Peter. You're not going to even see what I could do to help?"
"And what would you know that we don't?" Peter asked, doubtful that a kid could know more than the FBI.
"Do you know how to tell a counterfeit hundred from the real thing? Do you know how to break into a 1943 McKenzie safe under ten minutes? How about getting past the security cameras and guards at the Guggenheim?"
"And how would you know these things?" Peter asked, deflecting Neal from his astonishment at the kids abilities.
Neal shrugged. "I dabble."
"Right," Peter drawled. He thought a few things through, trying to find a reason why Neal couldn't help. "And where would you live? Back on the streets?" Peter asked after a thought crossed his mind.
"I wasn't living on the streets," Neal argued, looking annoyed by Peter's question.
"I saw you sleeping in an alley three weeks ago," Peter said. "Most people don't do that willingly."
A shamed look came across Neal's face and he looked away, making Peter regret his words. "I got a place after that," he said.
"Well, I'm still not letting a sixteen year old out of Juvie just so he could skip town the first chance he gets," Peter said, feeling a little regret by not being able to help him.
"But you could if you put a GPS tracking anklet on me. You'd know where I was at all times," Neal bargained. "The new ones are tamper-proof."
"You've been planning this," Peter said, realization dawning on him.
"I've had some time on my hands," Neal said, shrugging.
Peter said nothing for a while. "This is a little unorthodox," he eventually stated.
"Let's call it a trial run," Neal said, putting a dazzling smile on his face. He definitely would have been a great conman.
"There are a lot of things to work out, arrangements to be made," Peter said, hesitant.
"I know you'll figure in out," Neal said, confident in Peter's abilities.
"I'm definitely not making any promises, but I'll talk to my boss about it. See what he has to say," Peter said, still hesitant.
Neal smiled, wide and happy. There was a lot more joy in that smile than the previous ones. "I'll be here."
"You'd better be," Peter warned, but with no heat behind the words.
"I won't breakout until I know if you can get me out or not," Neal said. Peter believed that he could manage to get out of this place.
"In the meantime, speak up the next time someone steals your food," Peter said.
Neal nodded, smiling. "Deal," he said as he stood and reached a hand out to shake.
Peter took his hand in his own. He wasn't sure if he'd regret making this deal, but he didn't think he could say no to him either.
I think I'm going to do Neal's point of view next Chapter, at least a little bit. For some reason, I feel like Peter is easier to write.
At the end of my last story, I asked people to send me their ideas for stories or scenes, but sadly, no one gave me any. If you guys have any ideas for this story or any other that you wanted to share, I'd like to see if I could do something with them.
Reviews make me smile!