Past Haunts: Chapter 10
Lovelies! I have returned as I had promised! And I bring with me... a new chapter!
Quick read before I start babbling!:)
Warnings: Oh! and don't kill me! Has Neal whumpage, and some mentions of past non con. as stated above, never anything desrciptive. Read these warnings BEFORE you read please!
Disclaimer: I don't own white collar, just this plot line and OC. *sigh*
Flight Risk, Son?, and Properly Tossed Salad
Peter had come home early to tell El his news. Not surprisingly, Hughes had automatically approved it, and El had nearly tackled Peter in happiness. They both saw this as the perfect opportunity to help their 'adopted son'. Peter got settled and prepared himself for the hard part. He had to call Frank Bomer and tell him of the arrangement, all the while keeping his loathing for the man from seeping into his words.
El watched his face as he made the phone call. It was tense and held no hint of the careless content attitude his voice portrayed. Finally, after what felt like ages, Peter hung up and gently set the phone down. El looked at him expectantly.
"Well, what did he say." Peter turned to her, a relieved and extremely worried glimmer in his eye.
"He said he would have Neal over here in an hour." El was relieved but couldn't quite understand why her husband still looked concerned.
"Isn't that a good thing?" Peter sighed and shook his head.
"I'm not sure. He didn't say what kind of state he'd be in when he got here."
It had been forty five minutes, and Peter was pacing like a mad man in front of the door. Every thirty seconds he would stop, check outside, huff angrily, then repeat the process. Satchmo was watching his master and started to whine. El just patted the golden retriever's head.
"It's okay, Satch. Daddy's just stressed." It was in exactly one hour that Peter stopped, and flung the front door open. There was Neal, standing there with a duffle bag, and a usually disarming grin on his face.
"Hey, Peter. So, flight risk? Really?" Peter stepped aside and observed Neal as he walked by to greet El and Satchmo. The young man seemed stiff or tense, but more than usual? Hard to tell nowadays. Peter forced a careless shrug.
"Sorry, Bud. It wasn't me. Higher ups didn't like that stunt you pulled with the Finch case. Told you it would come back to bite you in the butt." Neal looked over at him to reply, but found he had a hard time twisting his body. To cover, he stood and faced Peter head on.
"Well, what can I say? I wouldn't be Neal Caffrey without the label 'flight risk'." Peter rolled his eyes.
"I know. I chased you for years, remember?" Neal just ignored him and turned to face El. She was having a much harder time acting like everything was fine, and Neal wasn't in pain.
"Sweetie, your room is the one right next to ours. You can go settle in. This isn't going to be prison, but it won't be a vacation either. I expect you to help out around the house." Neal put a hand to his chest.
"Oh, Elizabeth, you wound me." He grinned. "Of course I'll help out. In between case work of course." Peter nodded, and Neal went to put his stuff upstairs. As soon as he was out of ear shot, El walked over and wrapped her arms around Peter.
"Oh, Honey. I don't think I can do this, act as though he's not hurting. It's killing me. Why can't we just talk to him; keep him here until you get Frank out of his life?" Peter sighed and tightened his hold around her.
"I know, Hon. I hate this too, but if we talk to Neal right now, he might bolt again. He always gets into some kind of trouble when he feels cornered, and that's the last thing he needs right now. With him here for five days, well. We can keep him safe this long, and I'll have Diana and Jones and Mozzie keep working on this while he's here. Hopefully, we can get Frank gone before Neal has to go back." El just nodded against his chest.
"I know you're doing your best. I just... I just want to hug him and never let him leave."
"Me too, Hon. I promise, I will protect our son."
Neal found his room and nearly collapsed on the bed. His back felt like Frank had dumped gasoline on it and set it on fire with one of his nasty cigarettes. He was tempted to ask El for some aspirin, but he knew they were already watching him. If he even hinted at not feeling well, Peter would pull him off the case, and then go digging where he shouldn't be.
No. Better to just work through it. This was nothing. He could handle it. Frank's swing wasn't even as strong as it used to be. That's kept the con man going. He was strong now, not some scrawny nobody kid who couldn't defend himself. Besides, he had other people to protect now. If Frank found out that Peter knew something...anything... Neal shuddered. He couldn't let it come even remotely close to that.
He glanced at the clock and realized, he had been up there longer than he meant to. Neal was headed back downstairs, when he heard Peter and El talking. He knew he shouldn't eavesdrop, but this sounded important, and he didn't want to interrupt. What he heard next made him freeze on the stairs.
"I promise, I will protect our son." Neal's eyes widened. What was he supposed to do?! He had warring emotions inside of him. Confusion-are they talking about me or someone else? Frustration-who else would they be talking about? That's a stupid thought. But what if it isn't me, and I make some giant fool of myself and ruin everything? Fear- if Frank hears any of this... Anger-They're my family, not Frank. I hate that man. Hope-could Peter...help? Love- they see me as family too! Oh my Gosh... I could actually have a family again. But despite all of these thoughts, something more physical brought the fear forefront.
As he moved, he felt his back flame, and it pressed back into his mind the one thing he had given himself over to a long time ago... Resignation. His eyes dropped, as he let go of his moment of pure happiness and sense of hope.
I can't acknowledge this, or encourage it. I can't let Frank hurt them, because I know he would if he caught wind of anything like this. Even if Frank left when the job was over, it's not like Peter and Elizabeth's feelings would continue. This is just some under-used paternal instincts they have from not having their own children, and seeing my black eye the other day. Besides, they do not need someone like me ruining their relationship and lives. A criminal in the family? Yeah, right. I'm no good for people like them. Good people. It's better this way. Just simple friends. Friends.
He was so lost in thought he didn't hear Peter and El separate, or El head to the kitchen, and Peter towards the stairs he was standing on.
"Hey, Neal! Lunch is ready! Ya hungry?" Neal waited a moment before continuing his path, as though he hadn't been standing there the whole time. Nothing happened Nothing happened.
"Starved." Peter wasn't looking at him any differently. Good. Let's keep it that way. Neal walked into the kitchen and sat in the same chair he had a couple nights ago.
"You're not just gonna sit there and be served Neal. Just cause you have to stay here for five days, doesn't mean this is a hotel." Neal looked up, blushed, and went to help El and Peter in the kitchen.
"Sorry. Not my intention at all." It wasn't to be honest. Neal was just so tired and felt like he was ready to collapse any minute. Peter felt bad when he saw how tired Neal was. The agent was just trying to act normal. He didn't want to see Neal hurt, but right now, he knew the young man in front of him would not react positively if confronted. Neal had to hide a wince when carrying a slightly heavy bowl to the table worked some abused back muscles. Despite what he thought, it didn't go unnoticed.
"Neal, Sweetie, actually could you toss the salad for me while I grab the chicken out of the oven? Peter, set the table, will you dear?" Neal gladly changed tasks and tossed the salad with as much vigor as possible. He heard the chuckle and giggle behind him.
"Neal, this isn't a sitcom. You don't have to play with the food." Neal just picked up the, thankfully, considerably lighter bowl, and rolled his eyes at his mentor.
"Peter, I can't say I'm surprised that you probably fell asleep during the cooking shows El puts on when I leave, but I'd think that even you would know how to properly toss salad." Peter just took the bowl from his hands, and they all sat around the table.
"Sorry. I thought you were just supposed to eat the food, not do acrobatics with it. How do you know that's how you 'properly toss salad'?" Neal gave him a small smile.
"Well, when you have to pretend to be a famous chef catering to an exhibit showing off their newly acquired Monet and Gauguin that you have your eyes on... You at least have to learn the basics of high end cooking. Including how to properly toss salad." Peter sat there, fork stopped mid air.
"That was you? We thought you were in Astonia then. Paris? Really?" Neal just smiled and asked El to pass the salad.
Just a nice little fluffy bit at the end for you before the angst of the next few chapters. Who knows, the moment you've all been waiting for, might just be in the next chap... You'll just have to read it when it comes to find out ;) Well? R&R:)
PS I don't know if there really is a way to properly toss salad. I'm Peter. I just eat the food. :)