Author's note
Haaai everyone, so I'm really sorry for the long wait. It has become a habit to be late with my updates. Neal would disapprove, I'm sure. Anyway I'm so glad that you guys are still reading my story. It gives me a lot of inspiration. And thank you again for the great reviews. I will pay better attention to my grammar next time ;). Also when the story is finished I will review my grammar again, to take out the spelling mistakes that I missed. Thanks again for following, reviewing and reading in general. I hope you will enjoy this chapter, as much as I enjoy writing for you. Because I really, really enjoy writing for you guys. Please review and enjoy!
Chapter 10
'Sir, where there.' The cabdriver said, as he stopped in front of the Burke household. Peter Burke smiled at the sight of his house. Home. Peter had never liked traveling. In the beginning of his career he had traveled a lot. It made him miss a lot of important things. Like Christmas, New Year and birthdays. He couldn't visit his parents anymore. Most of all he hadn't felt at home in his own house. When Peter became part of the white collar crime division that all changed. He didn't have to travel anymore. Everything outside of New York was out of his jurisdiction and Peter liked it that way. He could kiss his wife when he got home, pat Satchmo and watch the game on the couch. It wasn't that Peter never wanted to travel. He just didn't want to travel alone. Airplanes were always busy. Annoying children who all wanted to sit next to the window, angry businessmen that screamed at their phones and old ladies who loved to make small talk about their cats. He wanted someone to talk to and the knowledge that he would go home after a couple of weeks. None of that mattered now though, Peter Burke was home.
After thanking the cabdriver, Peter got out of the cab. Quickly grabbing his suitcase. Peter returned to the front to pay the man. As he was paying he felt a set of eyes on him. Like he was being watched. Turning around Peter looked at his house. That was strange? He could have sworn he saw something move inside. But before he could investigate, his vision was drawn to another car. Peter smiled as the car pulled up. It was his Tartarus. Elizabeth Burke stepped out of the car, with a big smile on her face. She was wearing a blue dress with a black belt. The dress didn't have any sleeves. She was holding a jacket and some paperwork in her left hand, while holding on to her bag with her right hand. Her long brown hair curled on her back and her shoes clicked on the pavement. To Peter Burke she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Which he unknowingly said out loud. 'God you are so beautiful.' Elizabeth seemed to radiate at that. 'I love you, hon.' She said while kissing her husband.
It almost looked like a movie. When Peter pulled back from the kiss he smiled even wider. 'I love you too, hon. How was your meeting?' El's face fell at that and she frowned. Peter silently called it her angry frown. When something irritated her, she would frown that frown. 'It went okay, I think. We will have to wait on the board, but we'll see.' Peter raised his eyebrow. 'It went okay? Tell me, what went wrong?' Sighing El looked him in the eye. 'It's just… that curator gets under my skin. He is so… Slow and he needs to look over everything. In the meanwhile I have to entertain the owner with small talk and then in the end he makes it sound like he is in charge. Not that I would mind that, but he isn't. He is the curator. I secretly started calling him, mister potato and… What?' Elizabeth was interrupted by Peters laugh. Peter tried to stop laughing, but he couldn't. 'What's so funny?' she demanded. Peter shook his head. 'It's… haaahaa… Only you can think of potato as a mean nickname… hahaha…' Elizabeth raised her eyebrow and smiled. 'That's why I always choose the names. I'm just very good at it.' She kissed Peter again. 'But really El, how was it?' Peter asked when he retreated. 'Well I have to say Mister White has beautiful paintings. I'm sure the National Gallery will want some of them. I didn't see the master piece though. It wasn't there yet. He wants to draw more attention, but you should have seen it Peter. It was beautiful. The light that came through and I could nearly touch the paintings…'
Talking they walked towards the house. It was getting dark already. It took Peter several minutes to find the key and put it into the lock. 'We should really get a lamp here.' Peter said as he finally opened the door. Quickly Peter walked into the house and held the door open for El. She was still talking about the paintings. It was as dark outside the house as inside. Peter hadn't spent much time here, so he didn't even know if he had a lamp downstairs. There were lamps on in the kitchen though. Peter frowned, he didn't remember leaving those on and he had left last. Peter placed his bag by the stairs. He would bring that up later, now he needed to listen to his wife. Peter was taking off his coat, as El threw her bag on the couch. 'Umpfff…' El turned around and watched the couch. Peter quickly crossed the few meters between them, while grabbing his gun. 'Put up your hands slowly.' On the couch a person sat up, he massaged his eyes for a few minutes and then looked at the gun. 'Really Suit. You are just going to shoot me. I had expected more. Innocent until proven guilty. Well there goes our constitution. And who throws their bag on the couch these days anyway.'
Suddenly the lights in the living room turned on and the Burkes could see a very tired Mozzie sitting on the couch. He was rubbing his abdomen, where the bag had hit him. Which had fallen on to the ground, when Mozzie had sat up. 'I told you this would happen,' said a voice form the other side of the room. Elizabeth turned around so fast that Peter hardly saw her move. A smile appeared on his lips. He knew that voice. It was the voice of the one and only Neal Caffrey.
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Neal smiled as he saw the look of surprise on the Burkes faces. 'Yes, you said that, but how was I to know that would happen. Normal people don't just throw things on their couches. They know that there might be somebody sitting there or laying there.' Mozzie said mopping. 'A lot of people throw stuff on their couch, Moz. I don't, because I know that you could be lying there. Often diminishing my wine cabinet, if I might add. How is my wine cabinet anyway? Do I even have...' Neal was suddenly cut off by El fiercely hugging him. 'You're back. You're safe. God I was so worried. We were so worried. Where have you been? Do you know how worried we have been? I thought the worst and so did June. Neal, what happened?' Neal smiled at El's questions and returned the hug. 'I was… working on… something. Sorry I worried you. It was not my initial intension to disappear like that.' As Neal said that, he could feel El shaking her head.
'No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. You just got back. You have been through a lot.' El said as she pulled back from the hug. Neal smiled his million dollar smile, but he failed miserably. 'I'm fine, really.' He said. Not only trying to convince El, but also himself. El looked him straight in the eyes. Neal felt like she was looking right into his soul. It always made him feel uncomfortable. El had a way of knowing exactly what was going on in somebody's mind. Tears had begun to form in Elizabeth's eyes. Like she knew how he was feeling. 'O Neal! You're safe now. Do you hear me? You're safe. Nobody is going to hurt anymore. You're safe. It's over. It's over.' She said, while pulling him into another hug. Neal closed his eyes. That was what his mother had said to him.
When they had just joined WITSEC, Neal had been terrified of being alone. He would wake up screaming, thinking that his parents had left him. That everybody he loved was dead. In the beginning his mother had always come over. She would lie next to him, whispering that he was going to be okay. That he was safe and that the dream was over. Nobody was ever going to hurt them, but after a few years his mother stopped coming. Neal would lie awake in the middle of the night, hoping that his mother was still there. And after a while he accepted, that she wouldn't always be there for him. The dreams stopped and Neal never was afraid of being alone again. Now Neal felt the tears burning in the corner of his eye. He had missed this. He had missed the feeling of being safe, but he had never felt as safe as now. Biting his lip Neal closed his eyes even harder. Yet he could still feel the tears running down his face.
After a few moments Neal dared to open his eyes again. His tears had dried up, but El was still holding him. Mozzie was sleeping on the couch again. The trip back to New York had taken everything form the small conman. He was completely exhausted. Neal was happy his friend could finally take a break. Looking over the room, Neal realized that Peter had disappeared. Silently listening he could hear Peter pacing around on the first floor. 'Eh, Elizabeth? Not that I don't appreciate these hugs, but I think Peter might get jealous when he sees that you like hugging me more then you like hugging him.' Letting out a quiet laugh, Elizabeth let Neal go. He smiled at her. 'Thank you.' El tilted her head and winked at him. 'You're welcome. I don't want you dying on my carpet.' That made Neal laugh. 'I have to say, it is a very nice carpet. For the 50's. Did Peter choose this carpet?' At that moment Peter chose to decent from the stairs. Both Neal and El looked at him and started laughing. At that Mozzie woke up. He looked at the laughing couple and then at Peter. Just as clueless about what had the two laughing. 'You know what. I'm starving and if my nose is correct, I smell the delicious aroma of the Italian kitchen. Of which the irony does not escape me.' With those words Mozzie marched to the kitchen. Leaving a laughing Elizabeth and Neal behind.
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After Mozzie's statement, they had followed him to the kitchen. Quickly Neal had jumped to the stove and turned the pit lower, as the pasta nearly boiled over. El had eagerly stepped in to help Neal prepare. She loved Italian cuisine and she noticed that Neal had to work with one hand. This left Mozzie and Peter with the task of preparing the "table". That "table" turned out to be the salon table. As Peter put down several plates, he could hear Neal instructing Elizabeth on what ingredients to use. Peter smiled as he heard Elizabeth question every instruction.
Peter sighed. His first reaction when he had seen Neal was anger. Where the hell had he been? Why hadn't he waited? What had he done? Why hadn't he trusted Peter? Why did Neal always do stupid things? Peter was about to interrupted Neal's conversation with Mozzie, but El stepped in first. She hugged Neal and started asking questions that, even Peter hadn't dared to ask. The reaction on Neal's face was immediate. First he seemed to tense at her words, but then he started to change. Neal straightened his shoulders, hand casual at his side and a smile appeared on his lips. Neal looked like the conman, he used to be. The cocky Caffrey that had caught many criminals over the years. His partner, but there was something different. The smile did not reach his eyes. They darted around the room, making sure he could find a way out. And for the first time Peter got a glimpse of what a hunted man looked like. It was something he never wanted to see ever again. So the anger was replaced with concern. Apparently El realized the damage that she had done. She quickly hugged him again, telling him it was going to be okay. In that moment El sounded like a worried mother. Peter smiled. She would be a great mother. Peter was surprised to see that Neal's mask broke down at that and he was even more surprised when Neal started crying. Though, Peter could see he was trying very hard not to. It was actually more of a shock than Peter would ever admit.
Suddenly Peter realized that he hadn't seen Neal cry, ever. Not even when Kate had died. The haunted look had been there though. Neal had turned straight to vengeance instead of grieving. It just wasn't Neal. Neal hid his feelings, pushing them away so he wouldn't have to deal with them. Not that Neal hadn't been a wreck, but prison was just no place to get emotional. So Neal had done the only thing he could do to survive. He had hidden and ran away. Peter decided that Neal probably did not want an audience so he turned to Mozzie. Mozzie on the other hand was sound asleep on the couch. Crushing his teeth Peter had gone upstairs to unpack his luggage.
About half an hour later Neal's Italian cuisine was ready. A delicious smell emerged from the pan. 'Good I think everything is ready. Even though it is not how I imagined eating in my living room. I guess it will have to do.' Elizabeth said as everybody sat down. Neal on the other hand was still standing. His arms slightly crossed and looking intently at the table. Peter raised his eyebrow and looked at Neal. 'Missing something Dino?' That seemed to work, because Neal suddenly smiled and ran back to the kitchen. When he returned Neal was holding a '72 Bordeaux. The moment to relax and think about nothing else except the cooking, had done Neal good. His eyes sparkled and his smile was genuine. El smiled back at him when he started pouring glasses. Yet Peter noticed something else. When Neal poured wine in one of the glasses his hand was slightly trembling. Quietly Peter stood and took the bottle from Neal. Neal raised his shoulders and sat down on the couch next to Mozzie. Peter looked at Elizabeth, who in response stood up and walked to the kitchen. Only to return with aspire and a glass of water. Peter and Elizabeth didn't even have to communicate, that's what years of marriage brought to a relationship. Neal took the glass and downed the pills without as much as a second glance. Which made Peter worry even more. Normally Neal would refuse drugs of any kind.
Peter had to admit that Neal had outdone himself this time. The meal they were currently eating was delicious. The salad was spicy, but the feta made it creamy. The pasta was just terrific. The spices made it sweet and the wine was perfectly chosen. Though Neal did not get to enjoy that. Mozzie had snatched his wine away, even before Neal could as much as reach for it. Before Neal and Mozzie had gone to the Burke household, they went by the store. Neal, being as snobby about food as El, had taken everything he needed to make a sure the meal was delicious. Peter did not complain. Neal was a terrific chef.
'Well Neal I must admit that this was terrific.' Peter said after he finished his second plate. Neal was seated on his left side, sitting slightly sideways. Probably to relief his brushed ribs. His dislocated shoulder was resting on a pillow. Neal got a mischievous grin. 'Well, it certainly beats deviled ham.' From the kitchen Peter heard a clear laugh. El was making coffee for the gentlemen. Peter hoped it was Italian roast. He shot Neal a dirty look, at which Neal grinned even wider. 'I'm sad to report that I have to agree with the Suit on this occasion. Also the wine was excellent, could you pass me the bottle please.' They all laughed at that. El came back a moment later, with the coffee. Peter sat back in his chair, as the others started talking. It was moments like this Special Agent Peter Burke felt most at home.
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Neal Caffrey felt happy, something he did not expect to feel again. Cooking had always been a hobby. It was an art, just as painting was. Neal could lose himself in the different spices and tastes. El had been nice company, mainly because she understood. She loved cooking just as much as he did, but she also understood the art. Also El wanted to learn. Neal had made her taste the dish every so often to explain what he meant. Smiling she would nod and write something down. Sometimes Elizabeth reminded him of Ellen. She too understood the value of unique cuisine.
During dinner Elizabeth and Peter hadn't said a word about Neal's disappearance. Something Neal really appreciated. He really didn't want to talk about his 3 months in captivity. Not because he didn't want to, but he just couldn't. On the way back to New York Neal had tried to tell Mozzie everything that had happened. It had been one of the hardest things he had ever done. Neal was never one to share and even if he did share, he would only share parts of the story. That was the personality trade that drove Peter mad. That and my poor impulse control and instinct to run. Neal sighed. Now that he was back in New York he would have to tell the story again. Now that they were home, Peter would insist on talking about what had happened. Then there was the Bureau. If Neal wanted to stay out of prison he would have to make a full statement of the things that had happened. Two times. Neal thought. He would only have to tell the story two times. That shouldn't be so hard. Sighing Neal looked at Peter, who was staring at him intently. Or maybe a it would be hard.
Quickly Neal turned his attention back to the conversation at hand. This moment they were discussing El's new job at the national art gallery. Mozzie hadn't mentioned El moving to DC, so Neal decided not to comment on that either. 'But isn't the national art gallery in DC?' Neal asked. Elizabeth nodded. 'Yes, it is, but that doesn't mean I can't do work outside of DC. I was the logical choice. Seeing as I lived in New York.' Neal smiled. He could see why El missed New York. New York had something different, something that could never be replaced. He could also see why they would want to send Elizabeth. She was not just good at her job, but she loved it that's what made her so good. Her enthusiasm, her kindness and her strength. 'So what's the job? Anything interesting?' He asked while smiling his one million dollar smiles. From across the salon table Peter sent him a frown. Neal blinked innocently. 'What?' 'You know what.' Peter replied. 'No, I don't.' Neal quickly answered. 'Yes, you do.' 'I don't believe I do'
'Ehh. Boys, behave.' El interrupted. Neal smiled at Peter. It felt good to argue like that, like nothing had changed, but the moment was shortly lived. 'Yes, quite interesting, actually. You see there is this new exposition. They have amazing paintings Neal. You have to see it. Mozzie you should come to. They are so amazing.' El explained. Almost looking like a kid in a toy store. She had a bright twinkle in her eyes. 'They are all considered lost and there all from great masters. The owner found them a year ago in an old mansion in northern Italy. He first wanted to keep the paintings to himself, that's why he did not mention his discovery to anyone. But this year he decided that he couldn't hide the paintings from the world any longer.' Meanwhile Neal looked at Elizabeth in disbelieve. No it could be. Could it?
'If you ask me he wanted to drive up the price, by restoring the paintings.' Elizabeth looked at Peter. Unaware of the panic that Neal felt rising inside. The words "lost paintings" kept echoing through his head. It all makes sense now. That's where the paintings had gone. That was his plan all along. Everything started to fall into place. The never ending painting, the time limit, the detail, the ageing. 'The center piece was still missing though. I'm betting he wants to drive up that price to. I'm excited to see it though. If it is as good as the rest it will sell for a pretty high price.' El told them. She frowned as she said it. Of course the center piece. Neal was only half listening to what El was saying. The con Mr. Whitehall was running unfolding inside his head. 'Very strange man, that owner.' El continued while looking at Peter. 'I mean. One moment he looked like a decent man. And in the next he looked like someone you would avoid on the street, because you think he is going to kill you with his eyes. Neal you would like his style though. Very traditional. Except for the shoes. That was kind of a mismatch. I mean what man wears snake leather shoes in New York City.' At that Neal's heart skipped a beat and he quickly came to a few conclusions. Mr. Whitehall is in New York. He is selling the paintings. He is still missing the centerpiece. Mr. Whitehall and Elizabeth have met. He knows Peters surname. He knows Elizabeth is Peter's wife, because of their surname. This means he knows where to find me and he knows how to hurt me.