Author's Note:
Let me first start with apologizing for this extremely long wait. I feel so ashamed for letting you all down and not updating sooner. The only thing I can do is hope that you will all forgive me and still will want to continue reading this story. I also want to thank everyone for reviewing and being so kind. I always appreciate the feedback. I will try and keep up writing, but I do acknowledge that sometimes it will take a few weeks/months. I however will not let you guys wait four years again though. Thanks again for following, reviewing and reading in general. I hope you will enjoy this chapter, as much as I enjoy writing for you. Please review and enjoy!
Chapter 12
Neal George Caffrey awoke to the sound of a buzzing fly. A fly? Frowning Neal looked around and blinked a couple of times. He was surprised to see an almost empty room instead of the panorama windows in his apartment at June's. Suddenly Neal remembered that he was in the Burke household. Frowning he listened again, the buzzing noise was still there. What is that buzzing noise? Slightly moving his position, Neal started looking around. On the salon table, right next to his head, was a small mobile phone. Biting his lip Neal looked at the phone that was still buzzing away and slightly moved across the table. He couldn't remember falling asleep, but it couldn't have been for long. However he was pretty sure that the phone hadn't been there before. It was a prepaid phone and the number on it read unknown. Taking a deep breath Neal reached out to grab it. Only to feel a sharp pain, go through his entire body. Groaning he stopped moving. The painkillers had worn of and Neal could now feel the many injuries he had sustained. Shaking his head Neal sat up slowly, as he tried not to move to many muscles. It had not been the first time these last couple of months that Neal had woken up with a great amount of pain. Nor would it be the last, he guessed.
The dizziness he experienced was new though. Or maybe it was the concussion. Again Neal reached out for the phone. This time successfully grabbing it, before sinking back on the couch. 'Hello?' Neal said as he answered the phone, his voice barely a whisper. However the voice on the other end of the line did not reply. Instead he heard heavy breathing. 'Hello?' He tried again, not really wanting the other person to respond. 'Mr. Caffrey, a pleasure to talk to you again. Seeing as you left us in quite a hurry two days ago. I do hope you had a pleasant trip home. It was a shame that you decided to travel back to the states alone, because I had arranged a first class seat for you on my privet jet. Nevertheless I'm glad that you made it, because you forgot to finish our last project. I do hope you intend to finish it.' It took Neal only a second to realize to who the voice on the other end of the line belonged to. 'I do have to say that your persistence is quite admirable, Mr. Caffery.' Mr. Whitehall continued. 'However I'm getting really tired of chasing you down. So I decided that I'm going to take a different approach with you this time. I'm sure you're wondering what I mean, but that would ruin the surprise. I suggest you hold on to this phone Mr. Caffrey, because you will need a way to contact me shortly. O and Mr. Caffrey I also suggest you leave the FBI out of our next dealings. Goodnight.' Then the phone call was disconnected.
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Inside the surveillance van Special Agent Clinton Jones stretched his back and grabbed the coffee cup Peter had just brought him. It was about 3 am in the morning and as expected the street was quiet and calm. Shaking his head Jones leaned back in his chair. Four hours ago Peter had called the office to inform Hughes that Caffrey had been found… Again. Apparently Neal had fled the embassy, because he had been threatened and after his escape had come straight to the Burke's residence. Which was not a surprise to Jones. Caffrey had a tendency to do what was least expected. The bureau however had not been amused. They had ordered Peter to arrest Neal and take him to the local lookup, so that they could transfer him to the supermax in the morning. Peter on the other hand had insisted that Caffrey's injuries were to severe and that he had valuable information about a big White Collar crime that was about to take place in New York. Taking Neal's statement and solving rate into account, the higher-ups had decided to let Neal remain in Peters custody. Which did surprise Jones. The only conditions were that Neal needed to be on his anklet right away. That he needed to be in the FBI building at seven to make his official statement and that there would be a surveillance team sitting outside the front porch. It had taken Hughs only a minute to call him to his office and confiscate his evening. Normally Diana would have been in the office last, but Teddy was teething so she had gone home early. Not that Jones really minded this. He took pride in his work, even if it took a otherwise free evening.
Jones looked at the house again and saw that the lights behind the curtain started to turn off. It had been strange to see Caffrey again. After finishing the correct paperwork Jones had driven to Peters house. Even before he had gotten out of the car, Peter had opened the door and had given him the double finger point. Quickly Jones had crossed the street and entered the house. 'Jones' Peter had acknowledged. 'Good of you to come so quickly. Hughs has been texting me every five minutes to check if Neal was still here. I'm glad they could find a working anklet.' Jones smiled slightly at that comment. 'And here I was thinking he actually cared about my wellbeing.' A sarcastic voice said from the couch. Jones had always admired Caffrey's abilities and appearance, not that he would tell him that. The young man always looked smart and in control. It was a front, of course. Still Jones didn't know many people that could look calm and collected every single minute of every day. The sight that greeted him from the couch was different though. This was not the Caffrey he knew. Peter had briefed Diana and him on Neal's injuries. However knowing was different than seeing. Neal looked like he had aged 10 years. Which was quite an achievement, because Caffrey normally looked like a twenty-five year old model. He had deep circles under his eyes and you could see that the suit he was wearing was 3 sized to big. His arm was in a sling and rested on a pillow. His left leg was on the salon table. Something Peter would never allowed in a million years, had this been a normal situation. That however was not what shocked Jones the most. It was the look in Caffrey's eyes. He had seen the that look before, while he was still in the navy. Marines who had been captured by the enemy had the same look. They had nothing left to live for and had lost hope. Somehow Jones could feel Neal's situation had not been very different.
'Caffrey nice to see you again.' He said before Peter could respond to Neal's remark. He walked over and shook Neal's left hand. 'I feel the same way. I heard from Peter that you picked the short end of the stick, sorry about that. I told them I did not need a anklet. I mean running would be counterproductive at this point, I think. Nevertheless they insisted on putting Candy back. So how are things at White collar?' Candy? He gave the thing a name? Shaking his head Jones took out an electronic monitoring anklet out of his jacket. 'A little quiet,' he answered honestly, 'I mean most of the agents were reassigned do to the reorganizations in DC, but we still solve enough cases.' Neal's gaze dropped as Jones bent over to reattach the anklet. Usually they placed it on Neal's left foot, because Neal insisted that the fit was better. Jones doubted that sincerely, but did what Caffrey requested. One foot or the other did not matter to him, as long as it was done properly. This time however he hesitated. Neal's left ankle had mean looking, red marks on them that ran all the way down. Feeling his hesitation Neal put his right foot on the table to, which of course, provoked a reaction from Peter. 'You do know that this is a salon table, not your personal footstool.' Raising an eyebrow Neal looked at Peter. 'I know I lived in a room with only a bed for three months Peter, but I did not suddenly forget what Livingroom furniture looked like.' Jones smiled at the exchange and stood. 'All done. I will be heading back to the van now. You both look like you could use some rest. If there is anything you need boss, I'm right across the street.' Peter smiled and nodded. 'Thank you Jones. Really appreciate it.' Neal waved from his place on the couch. 'Thanks for coming over and giving up your evening.' Jones nodded and took a couple of steps to the door. However before he went through he turned around again and looked at Neal. 'Really Neal, it's good to have you back.' Neal stared at him for a moment, disbelieve lurking at the surface of his mask. Apparently Neal had not expected him to say that, but to be honest neither had he.
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After Jones had left, Peter had gone back to the kitchen to make another cup of coffee. Not Neal minded that. He needed a moment alone to gather his thoughts and regain control. When he had recalled his time chained to the wall of the basement cell, he had lost control. It had felt like there was an elephant on his chest and there were ants under his skin. He couldn't sit still and he had started pacing. If there was one thing Neal Caffrey did not do, it was pacing. 'Pacing is a death sentence. You show your insecurity and therefore are an easy target.' It was another one of Mozzie's ultimate wisdom quotes, but that did not mean he was wrong. It had saved him in many prison yard fights and cons. Nervous people got noticed and that could blow a cover in minutes. Neal had made an art out of looking calm, but somehow he had the feeling 3 months captivity had undone all his hard work. Sighing Neal took his feet off the salon table, while glancing at his anklet. That was something he hadn't missed. It had been inconvenient that the FBI could not track his anklet to Italy, but the absence of Candy had given him a certain sense of freedom.
Suddenly Peter emerged from the kitchen with two hot coffee cups and a glass of water. 'Thanks' Neal said while quickly picking up the coffee cup. He had a feeling the water was for another round of pain medication and that was just not an option right now. He needed his mind clear to tell the last part of his story. Which Peter undoubtedly wanted to continue as soon as possible. 'Do you need anything else?' The question sounded innocent, but Neal could hear the underlying worry. 'No it's okay, really. I'm good. I just really want to get this over with. You know.' Peter nodded and took place on the only chair that was left. Taking a deep breath Neal started again.
'When the door opened I realized that I was in a basement. I could see the concrete stairs through the open door and I could feel the cold coming from the floor. It was Mr. Whitehall that came in first. He took place in the right corner of the room not saying anything, but his gaze made me feel uncomfortable. Then big Wil came in, with a baseball bat and an iron bar. Thomas came in behind him, though I did not know their names then. He looked scared. Like he really did not want to be a part of what was happening. And dare I say he looked like Mozzie, a little crazy, but with a good heart.' Shaking his head Neal looked at Peter, who was listening intently. Still a slightly worried look on his face. 'I somehow succeeded in getting myself of the ground and into a standing position, when all the fun began.' Neal still couldn't believe how he had managed. The only thing he could remember was that he felt that sitting on the ground would be a disadvantage. 'Mr. Whitehall still had not said a word, but he nodded and Big Will immediately responded. He took the iron bar and hit me.' Biting his lip again Neal thought about that moment. Big Will must have hit his heat, because next he saw stars and he was on the ground of the basement again. 'Then Mr. Whitehall began to speak. "Mr. Caffrey. Please stay seated as I will not be here for long. I did tell you there would be consequences if you tried to escape. Big Will here is going to show you that in a minute. I have other engagements so this time I can't stay. However I will inform you that your punishment will not only take place today. So I will be back when I think you have learned your lesson." Mr. Whitehall had left the room and Big Will had instructed Thomas to hold me up right. Well they beat me around a bit after that, but nothing to serious, really. When Big Will was finished they left me alone in the dark cell. Must admit you thought the New York underground was dark, this was nothing in comparison.'
While telling this part of the story Neal had avoided looking at Peter. Of course he had downplayed the beating. Big Will had been a professional boxer before he had joined Mr. Whitehall, Thomas had told him. So he knew where a hit would cause pain, but not so much that you would pass out. Also he knew what injuries to avoid. When they were done Neal had honestly thought he would die. Not from the injuries, believe it or not he had been beaten worse. No from insanity. Dark places did not bother Neal, not when he knew there was a way out. Prison had been extremely dark, but the lights from outside had always provided a little light and he could look forward to the yard time. In his basement cell however there were no lights, or sounds even. Neal had silently searched the entire room for as far as he could go, shivering and to his embarrassment whimpering the entire time. Never finding anything that could loosen the chains. When he had almost given up the search, Neal had found a warm spot on the ground and wall, probably form the central heating system. Because it was the only warm place in the entire room, Neal had stayed there.
The next day however, or maybe only a couple of hours later. Neal couldn't really tell, because there was nothing in the room that looked like a clock. Big Will and Thomas returned. They repeated the treatment and then left again. This pattern was repeated about ten times. Big Will liked to shake up the time, leaving Neal wondering when the door would be opened next. They didn't bring any food or water and he could feel the cold creeping into his bones. Also the inflicted injuries had increased in intensity and the lack of food and water made it difficult to remain indifferent. Neal could feel the cracks in his shield and he knew that sometimes fear leaked out. That were the moments Big Will seemed to enjoy the most. Neal could see it in his eyes and usually Thomas had to put a stop to the beating. Thomas hadn't enjoyed. The young man had always looked at the ground when they had come in. Also Neal suspected that his injuries would have been a lot worse if Thomas hadn't pulled Neal backwards before some of the intense punches could hit. After one punch had missed and hit him in the head, Neal had found himself back in his old cell with the bed. The room now had metal bars on the windows, but it was a relieve to see sunlight again. Also he had found food and water. Hope started to grow again, now that he was free of the basement. Later Thomas had told him he had been in the room for about a week. Neal still could not believe it had been that short. However Mr. Whitehall's tactics had worked. For the next three weeks Neal did everything they asked of him, fearing every moment that he would do something wrong and end up in that basement again.
Suddenly Neal felt a hand on his arm. His initial reaction was fear, but then he realized it was Peter. He quickly smiled and pulled up his mask a little higher. It wasn't difficult to figure out why Peter had moved over. Neal probably had zoned out for a moment and showed his real feelings. I will have to work on that. 'You know it is okay to be afraid, right Neal? You don't have to pretend with me. I know I downplay my emotions and I have told you to cowboy up, but that doesn't mean you aren't allowed to have feelings or act like you have. Having feelings is human and I would never hold that against you. You do not have to hide here. When were in the office you can do whatever you feel comfortable with, but here Neal. This is my home and you know it is yours too. We are family, you, El, Jones, Diana and even Mozzie. A family doesn't need to keep their feelings secret.'
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Peter had listened to Neal telling his story about the basement with silent anger and growing concern. Anger for whoever this Mr. Whitehall was and worry because of the fear and disengagement Neal was showing. It was like the young con-artist had forgotten where he was. Peter knew that reliving bad memories could have that effect. That you felt like you still were in the situation. Even though Neal had lost his connection to reality, he still hadn't told Peter everything that happened. Peter could see the struggle for control in his eyes. When Neal had stopped speaking, Peter had decided to help him regain his control. In these three months Peter had come to except Neal was never going to tell him everything. That would take a lifetime, but he could at least tell him that it was okay to let go.
The effect of his touch on Neal was immediate. The man looked terrified and shaken. When Neal realized who had touched him, he had smiled and tried to pull up his mask. Somehow Peter had gotten the feeling it was his fault. Peter had never been good with emotion, or at least not with fear or grieve. He had tried to avoid emotional conversations, but with Neal he never had to avoid them. Neal pulled up his mask and avoided the conversations himself. So Peter decided to give him an incentive to open up and to his surprise it worked. Neal had given him a half smile and had pulled him into a hug. Slightly smiling Peter had returned the hug. He could feel this was special, as did Neal. It was Neal's way of returning trust and gratitude. Finally they had acknowledged that they were really home and that they were going to catch Mr. Whitehall just like they had always done.