"These are perfect, Cara." Neal grinned at the semi-abstract sculptures, firmly not thinking about her career cut short by death at twenty one "they really are… your family must be so proud of your talent." The young woman shrugged. "Aren't they?'
"Not that I can tell. I'm sure my mother will brag about it to her friends if I become a famous artist, but right now…. Skiing with Edward in Zurich is more interesting."
"What about your dad?"
"Esmeralda on the beach in Cancun… I think." She shrugged again "she does have the body for a bikini, though."
"I'm sorry, Cara"
"Don't be, they split up a long time ago and I'm an adult…" she smiled "they call… make sure I'm still alive about once a month."
"What about siblings?" she shook her head sadly.
"I had a younger brother… but he died…leukemia"
"I keep bringing up painful subjects." He smiled wanly, she deserved better than what life had given her. Much better than what it was about to throw at her next. "Maybe, I should just stop talking and focus on your pieces."
"It's alright I don't mind." She shrugged again with forced casualness "Brandon was nine when he passed … I was eleven, but he'd been sick for so long… as long as either of us could really remember. My parents split the next year."
"I hear that's not uncommon after the loss of a child."
"That's what my therapist said after the divorce… they both need someone to blame so they blame each other…" she shook her head " and me… sort of… for still being alive … or something like that." She rolled her eyes "she told me about five thousand times it wasn't my fault. Like I was dumb enough to think I gave my brother cancer…" she was quiet for a moment "So you like my sculptures?"
"I do" he grinned "I love them, my boss is going to be thrilled."
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"OK. Out with it." Elle said gently, after watching her clearly distracted husband study his dinner for ten minutes without taking a bite. "What do you think Neal is up to now?"
"What? Oh… nothing."
"I'm pretty sure my mushroom tortellini is not that fascinating. Something is on your mind… has been on your mind for a while. I know that you feel like you need to protect me lately, but hon you obviously need to talk to someone."
"Hon…"
"You have that 'I don't know if I can protect him' look. Peter, maybe you shouldn't try. I know he is your friend, but Neal is an adult and you can't keep protecting him from the consequences of his actions."
"He hasn't done anything wrong this time, Elle…"
"Are you sure?"
"As sure as I ever am with him."
"But you are worried about him. Why don't you bring him over for dinner?"
"He wouldn't come."
"Let me guess, he's angry with you again."
"No. Although I'm not sure I would blame him if he felt the need to cut me out…"
"What does that mean?"
"It means I had a very uncomfortable conversation with the little guy a few months ago."
"Really? Is that why Mozzie hasn't been coming by lately?"
"Maybe, but… Neal doesn't seem angry. Hon, he's just… he's been pushing himself to hard lately. He never stops. He's exhausted and I don't think he's eating well…"
"On your cases? Couldn't you just refuse to let him work on some of them?"
"He has a second job after hours."
"Neal has a second job? How did you find this out?" She grinned, her eyes shining with amusement. Peter had to look away.
"He told me."
"He told you? Well that's… new."
"Yeah, so are the dark circles under his eyes, and the lines around his mouth and the way his bones stick out like he never takes time to eat… He's pushing himself to hard."
"Why is he pushing himself so hard? What is this new job?"
"Art conservation." He flinched, it wasn't a lie, but it was really only a tiny sliver of the truth. He was exhausted himself from keeping this secret from his wife.
"Well that is impressive and I'll bet he's good at it. Maybe he feels the need to prove himself to his new boss."
"It's not that, hon… there are… time constraints…" He sighed then took a deep breath. It was time to come clean. He couldn't keep a secret like this indefinitely…. "Elle… hon… there is something I need to tell you. I should have told you a while ago… but I kept putting it off because… because I couldn't think of a way to start..."
"The beginning is usually a good place to start." She smiled encouragingly, but he could see a dozen possibilities rattle through her mind.
"Well it began with Neal getting a job offer." He was glad to finally tell her, but it shattered his heart to see the way the color left her face as he choked out his explanation of the coming catastrophe. The stunned expression that slowly evolved into devastated as she understood the time frame tore at his heart. April… their baby was due in May… her hand moved protectively to her slightly rounded abdomen.
"Hon… are you sure?"
"Yeah. I'm sure." he wrapped his arms around her and held on tight "But don't give up. I'm going to do everything I can to ensure we get through this." He felt the tears slip down his cheeks as she clung to him for a long time. Her shoulders shuttered a few times before she gently extracted herself from his embrace and brushed her hair from her face.
"So art conservation…? Does that mean Neal has found a way to save himself?" she smiled wanly, wiping at her eyes.
"No, it means he's found a way to be remembered forever."
"I wonder if he could use some help." Her suddenly strong voice surprised him.
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Miles Lancaster watched his crew work, his thoughts churning. The government had agreed to take all of his employees who worked on the bunker project into the shelters, but these men and women who had worked just as hard to build a place to preserve the cultural treasures of the human race… they were not included in that promise. It had been Neal Caffrey who had pointed that out to him. Lancaster found himself confiding in the young man frequently these days… it was good to have someone who understood the serious nature of the work they were doing, He couldn't discuss it with his wife. While he loved her with his whole heart, and trusted her without question, she did tend to be the slightly hysterical type. He didn't dare tell her about the asteroid until they were safely inside their shelter. Caffrey provided the sounding board that he needed and while he doubted the young man's moral fiber, Neal had been unfailingly sympathetic and surprisingly insightful. It was that very insightfulness that haunted the businessman this evening. As he had lamented his inability to save even his daughters' best friends and his longtime cook and housekeeper and her family, Caffrey had looked up at him and asked quietly.
"Why not?"
"Because I am only allowed immediate family."
"In the government shelters… but you have a private one."
"For the art."
"I haven't been inside, but are we really going to fill it up completely?" No, Lancaster admitted to himself. Not even close… he had planned for paintings in frames and crates full of packing material… but Caffrey's storage ideas had cut the needed space to a mere one third of expected…even at the increased rate they were accumulating pieces. Rolling the paintings and wrapping the statues and furniture in the soft items…it really was brilliant.
"So why couldn't you make a place for them here… they could look after the art and you would be able to save them. Seems like a win for everyone."
"It does, doesn't it…?" And if he and his family joined them that would open up a slot in the public bunker for someone else. The kid had watched the construction workers hurry in and out of the tunnel quietly for several minutes.
"What happens to your workers here…" He nodded to the construction crew, his blue eyes serious. "Seems a shame that they work so hard to save the history of humanity and then don't really stand a chance…" with that the young man stood and walked away. Lancaster did not miss the tired slump of the narrow shoulders.
Now the construction magnate sat in the falling darkness and pondered his options. His crew was working hard around the clock… it would be asking a lot to add to their job but… it would be for their own good.
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"Hey Boss?" Peter looked up at Jones noting the concern in his brown eyes and the slight frown on his face. "Can I talk to you a moment?"
"Of course," he gestured to a seat "What's on your mind?"
"Actually I'm more concerned with what's on your mind, Peter?" he shifted awkwardly "you and Diana have been preoccupied for months and Caffrey… he's been…" he trailed off and took a breath. "What is going on, Peter?"
"Jones, I'm not sure that I should-" he thought of the horrible reality he now lived in. Going about his life, solving cases as if any of it still mattered… pretending civilization wasn't going to collapse in just less than five months.
"It's Neal, isn't it?"
"Clinton-"
"Something's wrong with him?" the younger agent stared at his boss intensely "He's sick, right?"
"What makes you think that?" this turn in the conversation left his mind reeling.
"He's pale, with dark circles under his eyes that could be mistaken for bruises, he's lost at least fifteen pounds in the last couple of months and yesterday I caught him asleep in the break room…sitting up, with a cup of coffee in his hands…Besides he's been quiet, it's unnatural. What is it, Peter? Cancer? Or…did that Lancaster guy give him something that caused damage? That's when you found it, whatever it is, when you and Diana took him to be checked out after that case, tell me I'm wrong. Whatever it is, is it terminal?"
"Jones…" Peter sighed and stared at his hands for a long moment. He flexed his jaw, weighing his options tiredly. He could try to brush the younger agent off, he could attempt to explain the gut wrenching truth and possibly destroy a good man or he could go with the out Jones had provided. When he looked up he was shocked to see tears in his subordinate's eyes.
"How long?" Jones asked quietly as if he had already confirmed his theory "Were you going to tell me? D*** it Peter! Caffrey's my friend too."
"I know. Clinton it's not like that… Neal is…" he floundered into silence, hesitating, deciding "five months… unless something very unexpected happens he'll be dead in five months." He didn't even have to lie, the words were the absolute truth. He swallowed violently as the reality of his words sank in. Five months… He blinked at his own sudden tears. "Jones do me a favor… don't mention this conversation to Neal. He'd rather this not be common knowledge. You know how he is…"
"Sure thing, Peter" The younger man nodded stiffly "just… if he needs… anything… you know…"
"Yeah, thanks." Peter stood up and turned to his window, he heard Jones quietly slip out of the office. His mind spun with a sudden thought… If Jones was convinced Neal was sick then maybe they could use it…
He shook his head in disbelief. The world as they knew it was ending and he was planning to help Neal Caffrey arrange one of the biggest art thefts in history.