Ch. 7
A/N: See, now this is why I hate writing crime stories like this… I have to make sure I cover all my bases. :D The problem with my writing is I rush it, then make mistakes and miss things, and there's all these loose ends… I'll try not to make this confusing, and cover everything, but if I miss something, please correct me. Anyway, on that note: here 'tis. Chapter seven. :3
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George Clemence leaned back in his chair, a dirty halo of smoke floating around his face. He chewed pensively on the end of his cigar. His op had gone… okay. Not like he expected. He'd caused Burke a lot of pain, to be sure… He chuckled at that. Not as much as he'd caused his little lackey, the ex-con.
Now there was an interesting person. Psychology had always piqued George's interest, but for the life of him, he couldn't understand what went through that blue-eyed consults mind. What would cause a perfectly good felon like that to turn all goody-two-shoes so suddenly? Yes, he would definitely like to take a closer look at Neal Caffrey.
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Peter pressed his foot on the brake and threw the car into park as it pulled up to his house. Next to him, tapping his foot impatiently, was Neal, who'd been released that morning. He turned to the agent, opening his mouth to speak. Peter held up a finger.
"Before you even say anything, yes you have to stay here, no you can not go back to June's, and no, you won't be working for at least another week."
Neal blinked, then visibly sagged. "Aww, come on, Pete… I don't want to be a burden…"
Peter opened his door, stepping out. "You know as well as me you're no burden. Besides, Elizabeth has been asking about you incessantly. She'll be overjoyed to see you."
Frowning slightly, Neal cocked his head. "Speaking of… just.. I mean, why didn't she just come to the hospital?"
"She did. You were always asleep."
"Oh."
Peter chuckled, grabbing Neal's bag. "Alright. Come on, and brace yourself."
Neal followed Peter through the door. "For what?"
Elizabeth suddenly came dashing out of the kitchen, pausing only for a quick peck on Peter's cheek before wrapping Neal in a huge bear hug. He grimaced, but returned it. Elizabeth pulled back, fluttering her hands and clucking like a mother hen. Peter grinned.
"That." He turned away to put Neal's bag in the guest room.
"Neal… I've been so worried! I mean, after the-the video, and I mean, I came to see you, but you were asleep, and you looked so pale and small and there were all those machines, and I mean you got shot and I was so worried and—."
Neal raised an eyebrow, sitting on the couch and folding his hands over his stomach.
"Elizabeth. I'm fine. See me, here? Fine. No worries." He flashed his brightest grin. It worked.
Elizabeth's shoulders relaxed and she came to sit by Neal, pressing her lips together in that cute little worried-yet-relieved-at-the-same-time look and hooking her arm through his elbow. It was at that moment Peter came into the room. He glanced at them and sighed, but said nothing as he plodded into the kitchen. Neal grinned crookedly.
"You'd better go love him. I think he's getting jealous," Neal winked, standing slowly with a hand subconsciously hovering over his stitched-up wound.
With one last glance and a sigh, Elizabeth nodded. "Alright. You go up to your room and get comfy. Lunch is almost ready."
Neal nodded and smiled as he climbed up the stairs, shaking his head. How these people had grown so close to him, he'd never know. But it felt good… to finally have a family again. After such a long time with no one.
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Clemence stared at a brightly-lit screen that showed a weary-looking Neal Caffrey trudging up the stairs in Burke's house. He'd ordered his goons to install small cameras all over outside the agent's house—posing as cable workers, of course. The villain smirked, turning round in his swivel chair to stare at a fuzzy feed that just barely showed the room in which the ex-con was staying. Neal sat on the bed, pausing a moment before opening his suitcase and beginning to unpack it. Clemence knew that if there was any time to strike, it'd be now, while the man was still weak from his wound. Lucky one, he was. Clemence had been sure he'd killed him, underestimating his strength. Ah, well. It'd only make it all the more fun next time.
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Peter leaned against the kitchen sink, absentmindedly staring out the startlingly clean window. He smiled. Elizabeth cleaned when she was nervous. That was a lesson he'd learned very quickly after they married. The very first night he'd worked late, he'd come home to a spotless house. Surprised, he'd asked her the occasion. She, of course, being young and not used to his work then, had simply started sobbing. She'd gotten much better since then, though. The window fogged from the contented sigh that escaped his mouth. Had he ever been lucky.
"And how are you doing?"
Peter turned around, pulling the very woman he'd been thinking of into his arms. "Whatever do you mean?" He queried, eyes twinkling as he twirled her round so she was facing him. Her beautiful face beamed up at him.
"You know very well what I mean. You were actually with Neal, had to… so how are you doing? And tell me the truth, you know I can tell when you're lying."
Peter nodded, blowing a breath out his nose. "I'm fine. Got a little worried in the middle there, but…. Don't worry about me." He pulled away. "Need any help finishing dinner?"
Her lips quirked. "No. You go out in the living room and relax, I've got it." She gave him a gently shove.
"Alright." He started out the arch.
"Oh, and tell Neal to wash up."
Peter nodded obediently, heading to the stairs. He frowned at a strange sound from above. Was that coming from…?
"Oh, crap."
Peter sprinted the rest of the way up the stairs, taking them three at a time. He reached Neal's doorway and paused momentarily, putting an ear to it, listening intently. The silence scared him more than any amount of noise would. Peter backed up and kicked the door in, gun out and extended. His heart sunk to the floor at the sight. Neal was nowhere to be found. Peter swore violently and kicked at a stray scarf on the floor. He heard a noise in the doorway and pivoted, gun straight out in front of him. He lowered it in surprise at the sight of Neal, pale and shocked. Peter swore again, holstering the weapon.
"Wow, Peter… a little jumpy?," Neal inquired, examining the now-weakened door hinges with a cocked eyebrow.
"Agh… I'm sorry, Neal. It's just, I heard something, and then you weren't here, and I just…"
"There is such a thing as using the bathroom, you know," Neal chuckled, moving to walk into the bedroom.
Peter was giving the door hinges a closer look as well, now. "Man, Elizabeth's going to kill me…."
Neal chuckled, but the laugh soon turned to a hiss of pain. Peter turned around just in time to see the blood drain from Neal's face and his knees buckle. Peter's eyes widened and he managed to catch him, but in the process, accidentally pulled on Neal's injury. Neal cried out and Peter cursed yet again, pulling Neal to his feet and onto the bed.
"Geez, Peter… gotta get a… cuss jar, huh?" Neal managed a weak smile.
Peter rolled his eyes. "What the heck was that, Neal?"
Neal grunted, turning to lie down. "Accidentally strained it, I guess." He glanced at Peter, who didn't look convinced. "Really, I'm fine."
Peter sighed, but decided not to push the matter. "Okay." He rose. "Anyway, I came up here to tell you that Elizabeth said to wash up. She's almost got dinner finished." He walked to the door, but paused, glancing back at Neal.
Neal sighed. "Peter… I didn't know any better, I'd swear you were getting soft." He grinned cheekily at the agent's scoff. "Get down there and help Elizabeth finish."
Peter shook his head, but strode off. As soon as he was out of sight, Neal turned onto his side, groaning softly. His arms were wrapped around his middle, face locked in a grimace. Shallow breaths were all that could be heard throughout the room for a minute. Neal gritted his teeth, suppressing another moan.
"Why is this happening?" He whispered. They'd said everything was better…. And it should be.
Slowly, he relaxed.
After hospital twinges, he assured himself. Nothing worse. Happens all the time….
And he almost believed it.
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A/N: *grins slyly* Ahh, yes. I do believe we're getting somewhere, here. Honestly didn't expect to write that much (meaning all in one sitting… yay! Getting it back!), but here 'tis… you're New Years present, complete with a dash of Neal whumpage. Reviews are the…. Well, the new to my year. :D Any fanfic resolutions??