A/N: Honestly, I don't know how these chapters always get so long. Also, thanks for the birthday wishes and reviews! Here we go with chapter four. Let me know what you think.
Peter was walking in circles in the living room when a knock on the front door interrupted him. They had muted the doorbell so no one would accidentally wake the baby. So far, they had gotten lucky. Little Neal was a fairly good sleeper. He loved to cuddle. The best way to get him to sleep was to snuggle with him. The bodily contact with mommy or daddy usually did the trick. Getting him to fall asleep in his crib was a different story. But they were currently picking their battles.
That's why Peter was carrying Neal strapped to his chest in a sling. Neal seemed to love it, and the truth of the matter was, Peter loved it even more. His time at home with El and the baby before he had to go back to work was limited. So he tried to make the most of it when it came to bonding with Neal and helping out El. She was still recovering from delivery, so carrying the baby around the house all day in between the constant breastfeeding, burping, and diaper changing wasn't an option. She was more than happy to leave that to Peter, and she had taken at least a gazillion pictures of them already.
With Neal snoozing peacefully, Peter went to open the door and let his two favorite agents into the house.
"Hey, is this a bad time?" Jones asked. He seemed to assume that any time was a bad time now.
There was some truth to that. They tried to follow the rule that said to sleep when the baby slept. But at the moment El was sitting on the couch, folding laundry. The dirty laundry had begun to pile up dangerously high, and if they didn't get on top of that now, they would probably lose that battle for good. Bodily fluids of every kind seemed to get on everything these days – mostly from the baby, but not exclusively. Yesterday Peter had fallen asleep for a few seconds as soon as he had sat down to eat and he had spilt a giant spoonful of tomato soup on his shirt.
"No, it's fine. Come on in!" he said.
Diana immediately came closer to get a better look at the baby strapped to Peter's chest. "That's a good look on you, boss," she said. "You should bring him to work like that."
Peter laughed. "I might just do that."
"Um, no, you won't," El chimed in when they joined her in the living room.
"Think about it, honey. Where could he possibly be safer than in a building full of FBI agents?" Peter tried to sell her on the idea.
El didn't look convinced, and Diana deftly changed the subject. "Hello, Elizabeth. Congratulations again. He's a beautiful baby boy," she said while she gave her a gentle hug.
"Thank you. And sorry about the mess in here," El replied.
"Oh, please, you should have seen my place! This is nothing," Diana assured her.
"But speaking of which, we have a gift for you. It's from everyone at the office," Jones said and set down a fairly large package.
Peter sat next to El while she unwrapped it. They shared an amused look. It was a robot vacuum cleaner.
Diana rolled her eyes. "The guys came up with that one."
"Yeah, 'cause you'll have your hands full with the little guy, and now you have one less thing to worry about," Jones explained.
"I wonder what Satchmo will think of this," El said.
When he heard his name, the Labrador got up from where he had been sleeping and padded over to them.
"Look at that, Satch! Mommy and Daddy got a new toy. It's not actually for you, I'm afraid," El told him.
Satchmo sniffed at the package, and since it didn't move or do anything else that was of interest to him, he turned his attention to Peter.
"Would you like to say hi to Neal?" he asked and shifted to the side so Satchmo could rest his head on Peter's arm and look at the baby.
Satchmo wagged his tail. When they had first come home from the hospital, he had been a little confused. Clearly, he associated the name Neal with someone else. And when the baby had started to cry, the old Labrador had looked at them as if to say 'Are you sure about this thing?'. But since then Satchmo had begun to understand that this Neal was part of the family, too, now and deserving of his love.
"He seems to be doing fine with the baby in the house," Jones commented.
"He's been great. But it's a good thing that he's sleeping a lot these days, because we really don't have enough time for him right now. Which doesn't mean that we love you any less. Isn't that right, Satch?" El reached out to give him a cuddle. "Anyway, thanks for the gift. It's very thoughtful," she said to Jones and Diana.
"I love it," Peter agreed. They were already behind on the laundry. He didn't even want to think about cleaning the house.
"Told you he would," Jones said to Diana.
"Yeah, okay, you were right." She shrugged her shoulders. "Now, how are you two really doing?"
"It's... exhausting," El admitted. "I have no idea how you did this on your own. I'm so glad Peter is home. Being together as a family has been wonderful." She rested a hand on his knee, and he smiled at her.
Diana nodded. "I could have used someone like Peter sometimes. But you figure it out. It's one of the first things I learned. You will do whatever you need to do for your kid. Doesn't matter what it is. And I know you're tired right now, but it really is true what everyone says. They grow up so fast."
"Yeah, you'll have to watch out when little Neal here learns to grab things," Jones joked, even though it wasn't particularly funny. Perhaps that's why he added, "Anyway, I've been meaning to tell you that they found the murder weapon that was used to kill Woodford in prison."
"Smooth, Jones, real smooth," Diana said.
"And you're wondering why I don't want you to take Neal to work with you. That's hardly appropriate conversation around a baby," El complained.
Peter looked at his son. "But he's asleep, honey. He can't hear us."
"Fine, but make it fast. He'll be waking up soon," El warned.
"Where did they find it?" Peter asked, giving Jones a nod that it was safe to continue.
"Somebody threw it in the trash. It was a sharpened toothbrush, and they confirmed the blood on it to be Woodford's."
"That seems awfully convenient."
"It gets better," Jones told him. "They found fingerprints, too. From the guy sitting in the cell across from Woodford, who is already serving two consecutive life sentences and is a known member of another prison gang."
"Did he confess?"
"Nope, but he was in the showers before the body was found."
It sounded like an open-and-shut case. Except for that possibly fake prison guard at the crime scene.
Jones seemed to read his mind. "I can keep looking into the other guards. See if anything pops."
Peter furrowed his brow in thought. He felt Neal begin to stir. El had been right. He was waking up. "No, I'm not getting into a pissing match with Renner and Maxwell over this. If they say the case is closed, then that's what it is."
"All right. So that's how it's going to be from now on?" Jones asked.
"Yup, turning over a new leaf. Life is too short, Jones, and there are more important things than work." Neal's movements became more insistent and he started to fuss. "I think you were right, hon," Peter said to his wife.
El was smiling at both of them. "I know. He's hungry. I'll take him upstairs."
Peter decided not to ask how she had known that because he had a feeling that Jones would feel uncomfortable with hearing the answer. He gently lifted Neal out of the sling and handed him over to El, always remembering to support the neck. At first, Peter had been stressing out about that quite a bit, but with every day that passed, handling the baby became more second nature to him.
El on the other hand had always looked like a pro. "Hello, my darling. Oh, I know. Someone is really hungry. But mommy's got you..."
It was clear that Neal knew El's voice the best. He was learning quickly that hearing his mother's voice meant that she was going to make things better. And so El managed to soothe him while she carried him up to the nursery.
"Well, we need to get back. Somebody has to run the office while you're out," Diana said. She probably remembered that the patience for visitors was limited in those early days.
"Right, which would be the agent who has seniority," Jones pointed out.
"Then get your senior ass out of that chair!"
Peter laughed. "Be nice, you two. And don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"The new you or the old you?" Jones asked while he made his way to the door.
"I'm sure as the senior agent you'll be able to figure that out," Diana teased and pushed him outside. "Say goodbye to Elizabeth for us, and tell her to call me if she needs to talk about women stuff."
"Will do."
Peter waved goodbye to his team and went back inside the living room. He was about to grab some of the freshly folded laundry and bring it upstairs when his phone informed him that he had an incoming Facetime request from Sara Ellis. He would have been surprised, but he had a pretty good idea what this was about.
"Hello, Sara."
"Peter, hi! I'm so glad I caught you. I just got in from work. I hope I didn't wake the baby, but I figured you would be smart enough to silence your phone," the redhead greeted him.
Peter chuckled. "Don't worry. You didn't wake anyone."
"Great. Then can I see him?" Sara asked eagerly, trying to look past Peter as if the baby might be hiding somewhere behind him.
"Now isn't a good time. El is just nursing him," Peter told her.
"That's all right. I have seen breasts before. I have a pair of my own, actually. But you know that. You've touched them before."
Peter's eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?"
"You know, when we took those pictures, pretending to have an affair," Sara reminded him.
"I thought we agreed never to speak of that ever again," Peter muttered.
Sara made a face. "Gee, thanks. I didn't realize it was that traumatizing to make out with me."
"My wife was watching, Sara – my happily married, very loving wife," Peter now reminded her.
"That wasn't my fault!" Sara defended herself.
"It wasn't my fault either."
"Then whose fault was it?"
"Neal," they said at the exact same time.
They were both quiet for a moment, a sad smile on both of their lips.
"Okay, just let me see the baby, and I'll shut up. I promise," Sara said eventually.
"I'll ask El," Peter agreed and carried the phone upstairs with him. "Honey, I have Sara on the phone. She's asking if she can see you and the baby." He tried to tell El that Sara was not taking no for an answer without actually saying that out loud, but there was no need.
El was sitting comfortably in the beanbag chair with Neal latched on to her right breast. He usually took his time being fed. Sometimes he would even fall asleep. But at the moment he still looked completely on task. And El smiled when she looked up.
"Of course, bring her over here," she said, and Peter stepped inside the nursery to bring his phone screen closer and hold it up to El's face. "Hi, Sara. It's very nice of you to call."
"Elizabeth, wow, you look amazing!" Sara gushed.
El rolled her eyes. "No, I don't. But thank you for saying that."
"I'm serious. Everybody always talks about that special glow when you're pregnant, but I think you're glowing more now that you're a mom," Sara insisted. "Am I right or am I right, Peter?"
"That's the most sense you have made all day," Peter agreed with her.
El shook her head, but her eyes twinkled. "Okay, honey, turn the phone. She doesn't actually want to see me."
Sara's protest that of course she wanted to see El was interrupted by her own squeal of sheer delight when Peter followed his wife's instructions and turned the phone so Sara could finally see the baby. "Guys, he's absolutely gorgeous!"
This time, no one disagreed with her.
"And you really named him Neal?" Sara asked softly.
"Yes, I hope that's all right with you," El replied, even though Peter didn't know why they would have needed Sara's permission.
"I think it's beautiful," she said, heaving a sigh. "And Neal, I really hope I get to meet you in person one day."
"Of course, you will. Preferably when everything is a little less messy," El said.
Sara laughed. "If what you're having is a mess, then I don't know why I ever bothered to clean up my life."
Peter and El smiled at each other. They were both tired, in need of a shower or a decent meal, and overwhelmed by an increasing number of chores that needed doing, but neither one of them would have changed a thing.
There was one thing that had always been true about Special Agent Peter Burke, be that as a junior agent, a supervisory agent, or as ASAC.
He loved his job.
Until today.
It was Peter's first day back at work. He hadn't expected any nasty surprises. He knew that Jones and Diana and all his other agents could handle themselves without him. The New York White Collar division was running as smoothly as ever.
With the exception of the stack of files on his desk. That had gotten higher rather than smaller in his absence. And Peter already dreaded going through them all.
He tried to put his best foot forward. He gathered everyone in the office to thank them for their well-wishes for El and the baby as well as for the gift and commended them on their hard work and commitment. He listened to all the briefings on their current cases and voiced his thoughts and pledged his support. In the end, he told everyone to keep doing exactly what they had been doing because none of these cases actually needed his supervision.
And Peter did all that to hide the fact that he was texting with El the entire time. Well, mostly, he was texting her. Her enthusiasm for texting him back was rapidly declining. It was understandable. She had a baby and a dog and a house to take care of. She didn't have time to send him a play-by-play. All Peter was asking for were a couple of pictures so he wouldn't miss out on anything.
Like, every five minutes.
Their conversation went something like this.
Peter: How r u doing? Everything ok?
El: Neal & I are just fine. Did u get to work ok?
Peter: Yup. Miss you already.
El: We miss you too. Neal says hi.
Peter: Tell him I love him.
[…]
Peter: Did you tell him?
El: 👍
[…]
Peter: Did he have breakfast yet?
El: Not sure u can call it breakfast. Nursed him 4 times last night.
Peter: Guess he was hungry.
El: All the time. Sometimes I wonder if he doesn't get enough milk.
Peter: Do you want to ask his doctor?
Peter: El?
Peter: You ok?
Peter: Do u need me to come home?
[…]
El: Sorry. Took Neal and Satch on a walk. Everything's fine. Don't worry.
Peter: Good. Was Neal warm enough?
El: Don't u have work, hon?
Peter: I'm multi-tasking.
El: You hate multi-tasking.
Peter: Not anymore. I'm a dad now.
El: 😭
Peter: What? What's wrong?
[…]
El: Sorry, wrong emoji. 😂
Peter: Don't scare me like that, hon.
[…]
Peter: What are you doing now?
El: Trying to take care of my son while answering incessant texts from my husband.
Peter: Sorry.
Peter: I hate not being there.
El: I know, hon.
Peter: I'll stop now.
[…]
Peter: Don't forget about tummy time.
El: ...
[…]
Peter: Did he smile again?
[…]
Peter: Did you take pictures?
[…]
Peter: I love you.
Peter knew he was only making things more difficult for El, who was already doing it all on her own. But it was impossible to concentrate on surveillance requests and after-action reports when he felt like his heart had gone walking outside of his body, well, not so much walking yet as being carried. He had no idea what he was going to do when they got to the walking stage.
For now, what he did was to take a long lunch, get in his car, and drive back home. When he entered the house, he found Neal lying on his play blanket with a bunch of toys scattered around him. But he was currently focused on the book that El, who was lying on her back next to him, was holding up for him to see.
Now her eyes travelled from the book to her husband. "Honey! What are you doing home? I told you we're fine. I just left the phone lying around somewhere."
"I'm not checking up on you," Peter hastened to explain. "I just missed you terribly. Please don't kick me out again."
El's eyes sparkled with laughter and she nodded for him to come over there.
Peter laid down on his back on Neal's other side. "What are we reading?" he asked Neal.
His son looked at him wide-eyed.
"We're learning about all the different animals," El answered for him. "Isn't that right, Neal?"
"Oh, that's a good book," Peter said.
El nodded. "Yes, it is. And what is this? Is that a doggy? Like our Satchmo? What does the doggy say?"
Neal tried to reach for the book with his little fingers and turned his head from El to Peter.
"I think he wants you to help him out, hon," El said.
"Mhm, I think the dog goes woof. Woof, woof, woof," Peter echoed and gently tickled his son with every 'woof' he made.
El joined in, and then Satchmo gave a short, slightly confused bark.
That's when Neal burst out laughing. A sound so pure and full of joy it almost brought tears to Peter's eyes.
He met El's gaze over their son's head, who was still squealing with delight, and her own smile was just as bright and beautiful. Peter had to shift onto his side so he could lean over and kiss her.
They spent the rest of his lunch hour reading to Neal and making more animal sounds, trying to get him to laugh as much as possible. Ever since he had surprised them with his first smile, they couldn't get enough of it, and Neal happily obliged. Unfortunately, that also made it hard to leave. Peter knew there were many more 'firsts' to come, and he hated the thought that he was bound to miss some of them.
"I'll find my phone and send you more pictures," El promised when they were standing in the hallway.
Peter was holding Neal, stalling, but their play session had worn him out and he needed to be put down for his nap anyway. "Are you sure you're doing okay, hon?" he asked. Barely having slept last night and providing around-the-clock care for a baby and a dog, he had no idea how El even worked up the energy to smile.
"I'm fine. And Mom and Dad are flying in the day after tomorrow. I think I'll survive until then."
"Right." Peter had almost forgotten about that. He was glad that El would have some help for a couple of days, but as far as finding their way back to something resembling normalcy was concerned, having his in-laws in the house wasn't what he had in mind.
El laughed, reading his mind with ease. "Look at it this way, hon. With my father staying with us, I'm sure you'll have a much easier time leaving for work."
"Never thought I would need that kind of incentive," Peter chuckled.
"It will get better. Now, if Neal takes his nap like the good boy that he is," El said while she took the baby from Peter, "how about I make us a nice, actual, home-cooked dinner to celebrate your first day back? You can have a beer and tell me all about it. All you need to do is to be home by seven."
"Sounds great. I love you, hon." Peter kissed his wife goodbye and finally made himself leave.
When he was back behind his desk, he got a picture of a sleeping Neal and an 'I love you, too' from El. Peter smiled and decided to get through at least half of the files on his desk before six.
At around four Jones burst into his office. "Just got a call from NYPD. There was a theft at an art gallery downtown."
"Which gallery?" Peter asked.
"The DeArmitt Gallery."
Peter stopped writing and stared at Jones. "That's where Elizabeth used to work."
"Thought that might interest you," Jones nodded. "And the owner remembers you, too. Asked for you in person."
Peter looked from the stack of files in front of him to his agent. Then a grin spread across his face. "I'll drive."
"I was hoping you would say that."
They got into his BMW and drove to the DeArmitt Gallery. Peter hadn't been here in years. But walking into the lobby took him right back. He almost expected to turn around and see El walk up to him – well, a seventeen years younger version of his wife. Not that it mattered. She was still every bit as beautiful. And just like that, Peter remembered why he loved his job.
He had to wipe a stupid grin off his face when the actual manager came to talk to them. "Could you show us what was stolen?" Peter asked her.
They headed for the postmodern exhibit, and the manager showed them a picture of the missing piece of art. It looked like someone had tried to build a coatrack using plastic straws coated with gold. Apparently, it was worth 750,000 dollars, and now all that was left of it was the empty pedestal.
Almost empty. In place of the valuable work of art now stood a miniature statue of Lady Liberty, available for purchase all over the city.
"Was that there before?" Peter asked the manager.
"No, definitely not."
"Maybe it's a joke or a play on words?" Jones suggested. "They liberated this piece of art by stealing it?"
Peter frowned. Seemed like a strange calling card. Then again, he had seen weirder.
"Were there any witnesses?" he asked.
The manager shook her head. "We had a bit of an incident in the expressionism exhibit at the time."
"What kind of incident?"
"Two visitors started a debate about one of the paintings that got physical. They knocked over a watercooler and triggered an alarm."
"Causing the security guards to respond?" Peter guessed.
"Yes, and we needed to make sure that the water didn't do any damage," the manager confirmed.
Peter and Jones exchanged a look. "The perfect distraction from the actual target."
The manager sighed. "It would appear so, yes."
"Have you pulled the security footage yet?"
"Yes, it's back in the office."
"We'll need that as well as this little statue here for evidence," Peter told her. "And what happened with the two visitors who got into that fight? Are they in police custody?"
"No, we wanted to hold them in case we needed to press charges, but then the actual theft was discovered..." The manager gave a helpless shrug.
"And they were free to slip away," Peter finished her sentence for her. "Did you get their names?"
The manager looked relieved that she could give them something at least. "Yes, I photocopied their driver's licenses."
"Might be fake," Jones warned.
"Still worth a look. We'll be in touch," Peter told the manager.
The last case he had investigated at the DeArmitt Gallery had changed his life forever. He couldn't help but wonder what this one would bring. He had never thought he would find out. The odds of this happening twice in a city like New York seemed infinitesimally small.
Nevertheless, the security footage told the story of a carefully planned and perfectly executed heist. The two men in the expressionism exhibit got into a fight, just like the manager had said, and when the entire staff responded to that crisis, a third man, dressed like a janitor, entered the postmodern exhibit and quickly disassembled the 750,000-dollar art piece and stuffed it into a non-descript box, which he dropped at the delivery entrance among similar boxes. All of them were loaded into a delivery truck by a bored delivery man who had just finished a delivery to the gallery's in-house café and then drove off.
They got in touch with the delivery company. The truck was back at the lot, but the box had disappeared by the time they got there to check it out. The old cameras at the lot didn't actually record anything, and the truck driver insisted that he always picked up empty boxes and that he hadn't noticed one of them being different. He had worked for the company for years and nothing in his background popped. The two driver's licenses on the other hand turned out to be fake, just like Jones had said, and the janitor on the security footage from the gallery wasn't actually the gallery's janitor. But they couldn't tell who he was because he wore a cap that covered his face at all times.
And that's when they ran out of leads.
"Let's put out a BOLO for the two guys who provided the distraction. We can't prove definitively that they were involved, but I would like to talk to them anyway," Peter said.
"Maybe we could ask Mozzie if he hears anything in case they try to fence that thing," Diana suggested.
Peter sighed. It felt strange to do this without Neal.
"Or we could simply arrest whomever you arrested last time," Jones joked to lighten the mood.
"That was a sloppy inside job. These guys knew what they were doing," Peter said. "But maybe we'll get a fingerprint of that Statue of Liberty when the lab's done with it. I have a special kind of luck when it comes to the DeArmitt Gallery."
Diana turned off the screen at the head of the conference table. "Think we can call it a night then, boss? My sitter already stayed three hours longer than she should have. I can't lose another one."
Peter glanced at his watch and made a face. This had almost felt like old times. A little too much so. First day back and he had missed dinner again. El was going to kill him.
Diana laughed. "I'll take that as a yes."
Peter pinched the bridge of his nose and gave a weak nod.
On his way home, he wondered why this kept happening to him. Apparently, you could take the agent out of the field and make him ASAC, but it took a lot longer to take the field agent out of the ASAC. Or maybe it had something to do with the DeArmitt Gallery. He still couldn't get over the strangeness of working that case again.
At the house, the only one who greeted him was Satchmo. When he went upstairs, he found both El and Neal in bed. It looked like they had fallen asleep after she had finished nursing him. Peter smiled at the sight of them. But they wanted Neal to get used to sleeping in his own bed. So Peter picked him up very carefully and carried him over to the nursery. He wondered if this was what it felt like to carry an explosive device. Thankfully, Neal didn't wake, and Peter exhaled.
El stirred when he finally slipped into bed next to her.
"Honey, I'm so sorry," he whispered.
"For what?" she asked.
"For missing dinner."
"I didn't make dinner. I was too tired," El mumbled, hugging her pillow.
Peter laughed softly, not sure if he should be relieved that she wasn't upset or feel worse because he had left his wife alone all evening and now she hadn't even managed to eat.
"But you can tell me about your case now," El offered, her eyes now open and a little clearer.
"How do you know we caught a case?" Peter asked.
El smirked. "Because you're making your 'I feel guilty because an important case made me miss dinner again' face."
"Ah, but you didn't make dinner," Peter reminded her.
"You're lucky I didn't," El countered.
Peter grinned. "You will never guess where I was today, El," he told her. "There was another theft... at the DeArmitt Gallery."
Finally, El sat up. "What? What did they take?"
"Some strange modern piece worth 750,000 dollars."
"Did you recover it?"
Peter snorted.
"Why is that so funny?" El asked.
"Because we're not even close yet," Peter said. "These guys are good."
El rested a hand on his chest. "You are better."
"Maybe not. I haven't worked a case like this without Neal in years," Peter admitted.
"You and Neal were a great team. But he was never the reason why you are such a good FBI agent. That was always you, hon," El reminded him. "And as I recall, you solved the last case at that gallery all on your own."
Peter pressed a kiss to her hand. "Well, I had ample motivation then."
"And now I'm not enough anymore?"
"Now, you are my reason for everything," he said simply.
El smiled and cupped his cheek.
Their little moment was cut short when Neal began to cry in the next room.
"I'll get him," Peter said.
He had to make up for today and he had some thinking to do.
"Do you remember what we're going to do today, Neal? We're going on a trip. Yes! I think that's pretty exciting, too," Peter said while he secured the car seat. "And do you know who we're going to visit?"
"Ah-goo!" Neal babbled.
"Close," said Peter. "We're going to visit your grandpa. Can you say grandpa, Neal?"
"Honey, he's still months away from saying mama," El reminded him after she had put their bags in the trunk.
"Unless he says daddy first," Peter argued.
El gave him a smile that made it perfectly clear that she was only humoring him. "Sure, hon. Now let's go. I want to get on the road before it gets too busy."
Peter's dad had offered to come and visit them so they wouldn't have to pack the baby and all the stuff that came with it into the car. But they had chosen to do so. Neal was now sleeping a little better and crying a little less, which gave them some room to breathe. A trip upstate had suddenly seemed less daunting. And El had wanted out. Out of the house, out of the city, out of her everyday routine, and she wanted Neal to see something new. It would be good for him.
It would be good for all of them. Peter still hadn't made an arrest in the DeArmitt Gallery case. They had managed to pick up the two guys who had caused the distraction. But they had insisted that they had nothing to do with the theft, and other than those fake driver's licenses the FBI didn't have anything on them, certainly not enough to hold them for long. Their best bet was to wait for them to fence the stolen art. And Peter could wait just as well at his dad's.
Robert Burke was eagerly awaiting them when they pulled into the driveway of the Burke family home. Peter wanted to tease his dad that he had never been this anxious to welcome them before, but then again, he had no idea what it felt like to become a grandfather. He was still getting used to being a dad.
"Out of my way, son. Of you I have seen plenty," his father said to Peter and rounded the car to get to where El was taking out the baby. "Elizabeth, I'm sure you're aware that you look as lovely as ever," he told her, which was a lot nicer than the greeting Peter had been given. "And there is my one and only grandson!"
"I don't think you want to hold him just now. He really needs his diaper changed first," El warned.
"Nonsense. I changed his father's diapers, I can change his, too. I'm sure the general principle hasn't changed. I'll take care of it."
"Um..." El handed him the diaper bag. Robert slung it over his shoulder, took the baby, and disappeared into the house. El looked from his retreating form to Peter. "Did he just steal our child?"
Peter laughed. "Well, if we need to file a missing persons, we'll have plenty of pictures to choose from."
They headed inside, bringing the rest of their bags.
"Oh dear, I wasn't aware you were going to move in here," Cecile greeted them.
She and Robert had gotten married a couple years back. Even as a grown man Peter had needed some time to get used to the idea of his father remarrying. But it would have been unfair to ask him to be alone for the rest of his life after losing his wife and Peter's mom way too soon. Robert and Cecile made each other happy, and that was really all that mattered.
"We apologize in advance for taking over your home," El said.
"No need. Robert has been looking forward to this visit since you agreed to come."
"Could have fooled me," Peter said. "Considering the way he greeted the two of us."
El shrugged. "Speak for yourself, hon. He told me I looked lovely."
"That's because you always look lovely," Peter replied.
"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or if you're saying that's old news."
"It's the truth."
Cecile laughed. "Oh, listen to you two! Didn't I tell you that you would make beautiful babies? Well, just the one for now, but you never know, right?"
"I think we're good with the one we have," El said.
Robert joined them with a happy Neal in his arms. Apparently, he was already done with the diaper change. "Of course, you are. You've got one very special kid here."
Cecile turned towards him. "My turn," she said.
Neal went from Robert's arms to Cecile's, and Robert used that opportunity to give his son and daughter-in-law proper hugs. "Sorry about earlier. I never thought I would get to be a grandfather after all." Since Peter was an only child and Cecile didn't have any children, his chances hadn't looked good before El's unexpected pregnancy.
"Don't worry. We know the feeling, Dad," Peter assured him.
His father nodded. "Let's get you settled in."
After the long drive, Peter and El were eager to stretch their legs. So they put Neal in the stroller and took a nice long walk together. Peter loved coming out here. They needed to do this more often, he decided, so Neal could enjoy the fresh air. And when he was old enough, Peter couldn't wait to teach him how to throw a ball in the back yard, just like his dad had once taught him. Actually, being with his dad reminded Peter of a lot of things he wanted to do with Neal as well. Now that Peter was a father, too, he saw everything his dad had done in a whole new light.
"How did you do it, Dad?" Peter asked.
They had returned to the house, and now he and Robert were sitting in the living room while El and Cecile were out in the garden. Peter had put Neal on his play blanket and laid him on his tummy so he would practice lifting his head. He could do that with ease now, but he liked to roll over onto his back so he didn't have to.
"How did I do what?" Robert asked.
"Raise me right," Peter explained.
His dad laughed as he watched Peter turn Neal back onto his tummy. "Doesn't look like you're doing anything wrong."
"That's because this is easy. I mean, not when it comes to the sleep deprivation or the smells and chaos involved in diaper changing and cleaning up all kinds of other messes. But he's not exactly mobile yet." Lovingly, Peter ran a finger over the soft hair on his son's head.
"I'm worried that when that time comes, he won't listen to a word I say because he thinks that he knows better. That he'll refuse to stay put and always do the exact opposite of what I tell him to do. And that whenever I turn my back on him for even a second, he will already be gone."
Robert's brow furrowed in confusion. "Are you sure we're still talking about this Neal?" he asked, pointing at the infant, who was laughing because he had managed to roll over twice so he could reach for his favorite toy.
Peter only heaved a sigh.
"Look, son, I never met that Caffrey guy. But from what you've told me, I know that he did a lot of good for the FBI. Doesn't sound to me like you did anything wrong with him either. And you certainly won't do anything wrong with your son."
"But how do I know that?" Peter wondered.
"You don't, really. All you can give him is love."
"What if it's not enough? I just don't want to lose him again." Peter quickly reached out to stop Neal from rolling all the way off the blanket and put him back in the middle on his tummy, which he did not seem to like.
"There's one thing I can tell you about parenting," his dad said. "The more you try to hold on, the more they will want to let go. But as long as you let them know that there is nothing they could ever do that you could not forgive, you won't lose them. Because they will never find that anywhere else in the world." He rested a hand on Peter's shoulder. "You will figure it out, son. Because it's like you said – I raised you right. And you met a wonderful woman and had a beautiful boy, and if I wasn't sure that you will do right by them, I would kick your ass from here to Sunday myself."
Peter laughed. "Thanks, Dad."
"I hate to interrupt this little moment between three generations of Burke men, but I think that's enough tummy time for today." El and Cecile had come back inside.
"I'm just teaching him that as a Burke he can do anything he sets his mind to, honey," Peter replied. He realized that he was pushing his son a little, but he believed that it was never too soon to always do your best.
Meanwhile, Neal rolled over in the direction of his mother's voice and reached out with his arms.
"I think he has set his mind on something else right now," Robert said when El bent down to pick up her son and then got ready to nurse him.
"Understandable," Peter nodded. He would love to set his mind on that, too.
Perhaps the look on his face was a little too obvious because Cecile said, "But it looks like he's not afraid of strangers yet. So why don't you two go out tonight and leave Neal with us?"
El had settled with Neal on the couch. "Oh no, we didn't come here just so you would feel obligated to babysit."
"Of course not. But when was the last time the two of you spent some time alone – and not passed out from exhaustion?" Cecile asked.
"Um, the day before I went into labor?"
"Exactly. You need to make time for each other, and, of course, we would love to watch Neal. Right, Robert?"
"Sure," he nodded.
El looked hesitantly at Peter. "I don't know..."
Cecile wouldn't give up. "Just go and have dinner. Just for two hours. There's a lovely Italian restaurant not too far from here."
"Italian sounds nice," Peter had to agree.
"I do love Italian," El said with that smile that took Peter right back to when she had held up that sign for him. Suddenly, he really, really wanted to go.
"It's settled then." Cecile clapped her hands and then quickly apologized for making a sudden noise like that.
But Neal was nursing without a care in the world. He was perfectly fine. Unlike his parents.
The walk from the house to the car took them forever. El stopped several times. "Maybe we shouldn't do this. What if Neal feels like we're abandoning him?"
"I don't think he knows what abandonment is. You heard Cecile. He doesn't have separation anxiety yet," Peter reminded her.
"That's great, but maybe I do," El confessed. "Don't you miss him?"
"Of course, I miss him, but I also miss my wife. And right now, I would really love to take her to dinner."
El smiled and took another step towards the car. "And you're sure Robert and Cecile can handle him?"
"I think the fact that I'm standing here is proof that, as far as babysitting is concerned, my dad has pretty good credentials," Peter said.
"Good point," El agreed, kissed him on the cheek, and got in the car.
Peter started the engine and put the car into reverse. Then he paused with his foot on the gas.
El looked at him questioningly. "Everything okay, hon?"
"We're only a phone call away, right? 20 minutes tops," he said to himself as much as to El.
His wife smiled at him and rested her hand on his arm. "We can do this."
Peter nodded and backed the car out of the driveway. Once they were on the road and his father's house was no longer in his rearview mirror, he relaxed somewhat. "See that wasn't so hard," he said.
They both laughed.
At the restaurant El decided that she could make an exception and have a glass of wine since she wasn't going to breastfeed Neal in the next couple of hours. So they ordered wine and their favorite pasta.
"To us," Peter said when they clinked glasses.
"Right, and since we are doing this for us, I think we should do it properly – which means no talking about the baby the entire time," El said.
Peter nodded. "Makes sense. So... what do we talk about?"
They both fell silent for a moment.
"Wow, that's what our life has come to," Peter joked.
"I don't think that's a bad thing. Neal needed us to be there for him 24 hours a day, and so we were. This is our first chance to be us again. We just need to figure out what that means now that we're parents."
"Any ideas?" Peter asked.
El watched the wine in her glass swirl. "I was thinking I could get back to Burke Premiere Events. Ever since I took the job at the National Gallery, Yvonne has been managing the place beautifully, and I absolutely want her to keep doing that. But maybe I could offer to help out with a few things from home."
"Sure, if you're feeling up to it, hon," Peter agreed. He wasn't surprised to hear that. El had always been a hard worker, a go-getter, a force of nature. She still was all those things as a mom, but the transition hadn't been easy. "Do you miss it?"
"I miss the challenge sometimes," El admitted. "Don't get me wrong. Raising a child while also caring for an older dog and maintaining a household is definitely a challenge. But figuring out a wedding menu or a seating chart would make for a nice change."
"Actually, I think Neal could help you with that. He loves to rearrange his toys."
"Right, I've heard that Mr. Bear can absolutely no longer sit next to Snuffles because they both think that they are his favorite."
"Sounds like a serious diplomatic incident waiting to happen."
"Nothing a nice wine couldn't fix." El laughed, sipping her wine. "I can't even begin to tell you how good this is."
Peter smiled. "I'm sure Neal will be eternally grateful that you abstained for so long on his behalf."
"Mock me all you want. You weren't the one who was forbidden from drinking even one bottle of beer for almost a year!"
"I didn't drink any beer when you were around," Peter reminded her.
El snorted. "Yes, it was very considerate of you to wait until I had gone to bed and then try to hide the empty bottles from me."
"I was under a lot of pressure," Peter defended himself. "I had to prepare myself for becoming a father."
El's eyebrows shot up. "And I didn't?"
"No, but it seemed like you had it all figured out from the minute you told me you were pregnant," Peter said.
"Well, you don't have much of a choice when that tiny human is already growing inside of you."
Peter looked at her thoughtfully. "Do you sometimes wonder what our life would look like if you hadn't gotten pregnant?"
"No. I don't want to think about that," El shook her head.
"Neither do I," said Peter. "They probably would have loved you in Washington, though."
"But I wouldn't have. When they told me that I was pregnant, I was so happy, of course, but also relieved, because I knew I could go home now," El told him.
Peter reached across the table for her hand. "Honey, you could have come home either way."
"But if it hadn't been for the baby, you would have felt bad for making me give up the National Gallery, and I didn't want to put that on you, on us."
"I still feel bad sometimes for changing my mind like that."
"You did the right thing, honey." El squeezed his hand. "Who knows what would have happened if you hadn't been there when Neal was kidnapped."
"We might not have gone after the Pink Panthers," Peter mused. "He might still be alive."
"No. I don't know what would have happened. But I do know that Neal would not have been better off without you, without us," El said firmly.
Peter thought about that. Then he smiled. "Seems like we can't help talking about someone named Neal, no matter what we do."
"He was an every-day part of our life for a long time. That doesn't just go away."
"I guess so. And you and I have certainly been together for a long time," Peter said. "And I'm more grateful for it every day."
El leaned forward with a curious smile on her lips. "If I didn't know any better, I would say you're trying to butter me up."
"Well," Peter replied, leaning forward as well. "If I'm not mistaken, the last time we went out to have Italian we made a baby afterwards."
El laughed. "Oh, we're so not making a baby tonight."
"We could go for one of each," Peter suggested.
For a second he could see the temptation in El's eyes when she thought about having a little girl, too. Then she shook her head. "No, I'm just beginning to feel like a normal human being again, and I would like to enjoy that, thank you very much."
"You never looked any different," Peter assured her.
El only rolled her eyes at him.
Peter reached for his phone and held it up. It showed that old surveillance picture of El. "See, still exactly the same."
"You need to get new pictures, honey."
"Oh, I have plenty. But this one is special. This one is when I knew."
El bit her lip to keep from smiling. "When you knew what?"
"That one day I would look at this photo after a lifetime of being happily married to you," Peter said.
"Okay, now you're pushing it, honey," El laughed.
Before Peter could respond, the phone in his hand actually began to ring. Their playful mood vanished when they both immediately thought it might be Peter's dad calling because something was wrong with the baby.
But then Peter saw the caller ID and signaled El that it was okay. "Hey, Jones. What's up?"
"They pulled off another heist. Hit a jewelry store this time," Jones got right to it.
Peter sat up straight in his chair. "You mean it's the same thieves that stole from the DeArmitt Gallery?"
"I think so. They left another statue behind."
"Lady Liberty again?"
"Nope, Chrysler Building this time," Jones replied.
Peter frowned. This only got weirder. He looked at El, who looked questioningly back at him. They hadn't even finished eating yet.
"I know you're at your dad's..." Jones filled the silence.
"I am. But that's okay. You are going to run point on this one, Jones," Peter said.
"You sure?"
"Yup. I'll be back in the office, waiting for your report, bright and early Monday morning. You're in charge, Jones. Make me proud."
"Will do."
Peter hung up and put away his phone.
"What was that?" El asked.
"That was me being an ASAC who trusts the people he trained, and, more importantly, a husband who really needs to spend more time with his wife," Peter said and raised his glass to her.
They clinked glasses again and finished their dinner.
Afterwards they walked back to the car, parked in a corner of the restaurant's parking lot, and Peter opened the passenger door for El.
"Thank you, hon," she said with a smile, and when he had circled round the car and gotten in as well, she added, "I'm really glad we decided to do this tonight."
"Me, too," Peter agreed.
"I missed us," El said.
"Me, too," Peter agreed.
El laughed and leaned in to kiss him. Peter didn't hesitate to kiss her back, and when their kiss deepened, he dropped his hands from her cheeks to her shoulders to pull her closer. Her lips were soft and inviting. God, he had missed kissing and holding her like this. Dr. Chontos had given El the green light to start exercising again, which theoretically included having sex. But they had been waiting for El to actually feel like she was ready. Of course, tonight, while they were staying under his dad's roof, was exceptionally poor timing.
But it was okay. This was good, too. At least until they got a little too carried away and Peter hit his head, trying to find a position he could work with. El winced when her leg got stuck in a weird angle, and both of them jumped when either one of them accidentally hit the car horn.
"I feel like a teenager again," Peter muttered.
"Except, we're not. We're too old to do this in the car," El realized.
"Right, not to mention it would look really bad on my record if I was arrested for indecent exposure."
They both collapsed into their seats, laughing.
"Well, I appreciate the effort, hon. And it was still a wonderful evening," El said.
"To be continued?" Peter asked.
El rested her hand on his leg. "Definitely."
As promised, Peter was waiting in the conference room on Monday with fresh cups of coffee for everyone.
"I thought having a baby meant that you were always tired. You look more awake than I am," Jones complained when he accepted the coffee.
"Let me guess. Neal's been up since five and you've already had three cups of these," Diana said when she took her seat.
"Something like that," Peter said with a smile on his lips.
In truth, it wasn't the coffee that had him feeling so refreshed but having spent a whole weekend with the people he loved most. His dad might have been the one who had been most excited, but it brought just as much joy to Peter's heart to watch him and Neal together. And of course, Peter was glad that he and El had taken the first steps to being intimate again, provided they would find the time. So yes, Peter was in a good mood, but he was not going to tell his agents why.
"So, where are we with the investigation?" he asked, sipping his own coffee.
Jones activated the screen on the wall and started with a picture of the jewelry store. It said 'Raffyen's Rare Jewelry' on the storefront. "This was their target. The store had a collection of rare jewelry on display with about five million dollars in diamonds split between the different pieces," Jones said and switched to a couple of pictures of diamond necklaces, earrings, and bracelets.
"Not surprising that those will get you the attention of the wrong kind of people," Peter noted.
"Right, but the owner was careful. All the pieces on display were actually fake. If someone wanted to buy something, they were taken to the back room. The store would check out their credentials, and only then they would open the vault to see the real thing."
Peter nodded approvingly. "So, what went wrong?"
"Meet Jolene Coderro." Jones called up an image of an attractive Hispanic woman in her mid-30ies. "Suspected in a number of thefts and break-ins, but nothing ever stuck. She talked the owner into showing her the real pieces in the vault, and then this happened."
Jones hit play on the surveillance footage, and it showed the storeowner and two security guards, who remained in the background but made their presence felt, as they accompanied Ms. Coderro into the vault. She was about to admire a diamond necklace when she suddenly began to foam at the mouth and to have violent seizures that caused her to fall over. The storeowner rushed in to help, and someone called 911. Mere minutes later, three paramedics arrived. Two of them worked on Jolene Coderro while the third one, whose face was hidden by an NYFD cap, carried the equipment and made sure that everyone else stayed back so his partners had room to work. Eventually, they carried Ms. Coderro out of the store on a stretcher.
Jones stopped the video. "When the dust had settled, the owner noticed that the jewelry was gone, and all they were left with was this." The miniature Chrysler Building popped up on screen.
As much as it pained him, Peter had to hand it to these guys. He hadn't seen such a cleverly executed heist in a while. It impressed and disgusted him at the same time. Something he hadn't felt since… well, Neal. He would have loved this. Unfortunately, he wasn't here to help them solve it.
"Did you check with the 911 operator?" Peter asked.
"Yup, never got the call. They must have intercepted it," Jones answered.
"And the paramedics?"
Jones called up more pictures. "Justin Henry, served three years for counterfeiting, and Michael Weston, got away with two counts of art theft on a technicality. We have BOLOs out on both of them. Third one, never got a face."
"So, other than the third paramedic, no one who was involved in the DeArmitt Gallery theft," Peter noticed.
"Either this isn't connected or they've done some expanding," said Diana.
Peter shook his head. "This is definitely the same gang. I don't know what's behind those figurines yet. But this is exactly the same MO. Provide a distraction, get away clean, and make sure the one person who commits the actual crime doesn't have a face. Even if we find Henry and Weston, all we got them on is impersonating an NYFD officer to save a woman's life."
"But how do they choose their targets?" Diana asked. "A small art gallery and a fancy jewelry store in Manhattan? There doesn't seem to be a pattern."
"Both places didn't have topnotch security. Easy to case, find a way to get in and out, and keep a low profile," Jones suggested.
"Whatever it is, they got away with it twice now. They're not going to keep a low profile for long. They will go bigger, and when they do, they will make mistakes. They always do." Peter leaned back in his chair. This was turning into a huge case. If it hadn't been already, the chase was definitely on now. But this time, it wasn't his. "So, how do we get them?" he asked, looking at Jones. This was still his investigation.
Jones barely hesitated. "I think for now Coderro is our best way in. NYPD picked her up, but they have nothing to hold her on. It's not illegal to have a seizure."
"Which means we can't hold her either," Diana said.
"No, but I was thinking I could go down to the precinct and let them put me in the holding cell with her on pretend charges. I'm no Caffrey, but maybe I can make her talk to me, gain her trust by forcing the NYPD's hand, get them to let us go, which they would have to do anyway."
Peter sighed. This was the kind of thing Neal would have excelled at – also, the kind of thing that had gotten him killed. "It's risky. If you do get in touch with any of the others through Coderro, they might recognize you from the DeArmitt Gallery investigation."
"I was at the gallery, but you and Diana handled the interviews," Jones argued. "I don't think they saw me. And this is our best bet."
The hardest part wasn't sitting back and letting others do the work. It was watching them take all the risk, Peter realized. But there was no way for him to get involved in such an undercover operation and make it to mommy-and-me class this afternoon. That made his decision rather simple.
"All right, your case, your call. Trust your gut, Jones. Let's get them."