WARNING: Following chapter has violence, touches on adult themes, and contains some strong language.
White Collar: The Eye of Sita
Chapter Fourteen
Hard at work in his studio Neal was putting the finishing touches on the Monet. He had half a dozen or so paintings that he was working on at the moment that were all set up on easels around the studio. However the others were just there to give him something to do when he was too frustrated to work on the Monet.
Turning away from the painting Neal walked over to the large work table. He picked through the various bottles of linseed oils, paint thinners, spirits, and turpentines. Finding what he was looking for he diluted a small amount of antique oil paint powder into some fresh blue paint with one of the paint thinners. The powder would help the painting pass any age tests if the museum dared scratch the painting for testing.
Glancing up at the seventeenth century clock that Neal had picked up on his last trip to Austria Neal sighed. It was almost eleven and Daniel still hadn't come home. Neal wasn't sure what Daniel had been doing with the last three months of his life. They hadn't gone on any heists together, or really done anything together lately. Focused on getting the painting right Neal just hadn't had the time. He was starting to think that Robert was right and that Daniel was preparing to leave the nest.
"I hope you don't leave without saying good-bye."
Feeling heavy hearted Neal returned to the nearly complete painting. Having been born at eleven fifty-one at night he officially had just over an hour before he turned eighteen. Neal wasn't sure why he was so obsessed with completing the painting before he was an 'adult', but it was important to him. Staring at the original and turning back to his own work Neal made the final adjustment.
"Almost there..."
Picking up both paintings he tuned them upside down. Robert had taught him that the key to any convincing signature forgery was to turn the pages upside down. With the familiar letters now nothing more than shapes to be copied Neal dipped the thin brush in the blue paint that he had mixed. Holding his breath Neal carefully inscribed Monet's classic signature into the bottom corner.
Neal stood back and compared the signatures. Satisfied that it would fool even the most trained eye he smiled. Neal hesitated to put the final strokes on the canvas. Daniel's accusation of having a pathological need to sign his work was still on his mind. Neal reasoned that he had spent nearly two years perfecting this painting and he had every right to sign it. He'd put more time and effort into his version than Monet probably had with the original. With a clean brush dipped in turpentine Neal went to the corner opposite to the forged signature. Almost forgetting to use his new initials Neal signed the painting by simply disturbing the natural stroke patterns in the still wet oil paint.
"Congratulations, Neal."
Hearing Daniel's voice Neal jolted, this time however he managed not to ruin the hard won painting. Neal was always amazed by Daniel's ability to pick a lock nearly silently. Daniel said that Neal made it easy by being so preoccupied in his own world. Turning around Neal took a defensive stance in front of the painting.
"I swear to God, Daniel, if you ruin this painting I will kill you."
"I gave up on trying to stop you months ago, Neal." Daniel sighed. "Happy birthday."
"Thanks."
An uncomfortable silence fell over the pair. Neal looked Daniel over and for the first time noticed how much weight he'd recently lost. He was still muscular, but there was a hollowness around his dark eyes. When Daniel took a step forward Neal visibly tensed. Daniel smiled sadly and held his hands up in peaceful surrender. Feeling guilty Neal forced himself to relax.
"Are you afraid of me?" Daniel asked hurt.
"I'm sorry, Daniel. I just know how much you disapprove of my painting, and I don't want it destroyed."
"I don't disapprove, I'm just worried. But I'm over that. I have a new solution, one that I think will work out for us both. But, first I have a gift."
"You didn't have to do that. I'm just glad you came home."
"I almost didn't."
Daniel reached behind his back and pulled out an elegant long barreled revolver. Neal recognized the weapon instantly and gasped in surprise. Daniel smiled brightly and flipped the gun over to offer the grip to Neal. Taking the gun Neal was surprised by how heavy it was, nearly five pounds.
"Daniel...is this an actual Colt Walker 1847?"
"It is."
"Where did you find it? It's amazing." Neal held the weapon up and tested out the balance by aiming it at the far wall.
"Careful, it's loaded."
"Loaded?"
"I had a black powder guy load it for me."
"Daniel...you don't fire a gun like this."
"Then what's the point in having it?"
"For the same reason you have a Monet." Neal chuckled. "To admire it, to appreciate its beauty, to touch history."
"So you like the gun?"
"I love it."
Daniel smiled, but he looked uneasy. He was shifting his weight from foot to foot and kept scratching at his arms. Neal put the nearly one million dollar weapon down on his work table. He stepped up to Daniel and put his hand on his shoulder.
"Daniel? Is everything okay?"
"Did Caffrey give you his name for your birthday?" Daniel asked suddenly.
"He did." Neal admitted.
"I knew he would one day." Daniel said thoughtfully. "Neal, it's time we stop this before happens again."
"Stop what?"
"Caffrey."
"I don't understand."
"I don't know about you, but he lost interest in me a few months ago." Daniel said in a hushed tone. "I didn't want to do anything about it before because I knew the foster system would separate us, not being blood relatives and all, but now that you are a 'Caffrey' we can finally do what's right."
"What?" Neal asked confused.
"I broke into his safe a few nights ago." Daniel continued. "I found three files: Samuel, Alexander, and Travis. Six, nine, and seven."
"Daniel, I have no idea what you're talking about."
"He's replacing us, Neal, we're too old for him."
"We all have to leave the nest sometime." Neal shrugged. "It's only fair that someone else should have the same opportunities we had."
"Have you lost your senses?" Daniel demanded. "We can't let this happen to someone else. I feel guilty enough that I let it happen to you!"
"Daniel, I'm sick of you taking responsibility for my actions. I enjoy who I am, I'm proud of it."
"Tha...that's not what I'm talking about."
"What are you talking about?" Neal asked in frustration.
Daniel furrowed his brow in thought as he stared at Neal. Waiting for an explanation Neal said nothing. Daniel was clearly expecting Neal to say something, but he wasn't sure what to say. Daniel's confusion suddenly turned to anger. He turned and stormed out of the studio. Confused Neal wasn't sure if he should go after him or not. Before he could make a decision Daniel returned with a handful of photos that he pressed against Neal's chest.
"This is what I'm talking about!" Daniel growled. "I know we never talk about it, but we need to start."
Neal reached up and took the photos to look through them. Realizing what Daniel had found Neal closed his eyes for a second and sighed heavily. Dismissing the photos Neal tossed them onto his work table casually. Neal's caviler attitude towards the photos seemed to enrage Daniel further.
"Neal..."
"Where did you get those?" Neal asked calmly.
"They were in Caffrey's safe. Stop denying that this is a problem."
"Calm down. They are just art references, Daniel, anatomy poses for my paintings."
"This isn't art, Neal, it's pornography!"
"No, you're wrong."
"How old are you in these photos?"
"I don't remember, fifteen or sixteen. There is more than one set."
"Who's idea was it?"
"Robert said it would help me with my anatomy and perspective and he was right. It was a good idea, I don't see what the problem is."
"You don't see how this made things worse?"
"Daniel, it's art, I don't expect you to understand. Trust me, it's harmless."
"What about what he did to you after taking the photos? Was that harmless?"
"After? Daniel, if you're suggesting that any of this lead to sex you're wrong." Neal snarled defensively. "Robert has never touched me."
"Yeah...well...I wish I could say the same."
Neal's blood turned to ice at the pain in Daniel's voice. Daniel closed his eyes as tears suddenly streaked his face. Neal wasn't ready to have his entire perspective of his benefactor changed like this. Unsure of what to say Neal reached out to put his hand on Daniel's arm.
"Don't touch me." Daniel hissed as he pulled away.
"Daniel, I...I'm sorry."
"Don't be 'sorry', help me stop him. Come with me to the police."
"I...I don't..."
"He won't be able to hurt anyone else. We can have him arrested, and now that you're his 'son' his estate will be ours."
"Wait...that's what this is really about isn't it?" Neal accused. "This is that 'one last score' you were talking about, one last con. I'm not lying to the police about being abused..."
"It's not a lie!" Daniel shouted.
"Daniel, your nose is bleeding."
"It's nothing."
Daniel didn't seem surprised to be suddenly bleeding. He pulled out a square of silk from his back pocket that already had dried blood on it. When he did so a small ziplock fell out of his pocket onto the floor. Neal picked it up and held it up to see what was inside. Daniel made a desperate grab for it, but Neal was quicker and pulled it out of his reach. Neal took a closer look at the cloudy crushed white crystals in the bag.
"Daniel...is this meth?"
"Give that back!"
"Is this what you've been doing the past few months? Drugs? Is this why you don't come home at night?"
"Neal, give that to me...now!"
"No, Daniel, you need help. I'm sorry I've been so busy, I didn't reali..."
With his eyes still focused on the small bag of glassy crystals Daniel suddenly launched himself at Neal. Taken by surprise Neal was blindsided by a powerful strike to the jaw. He stumbled back and Daniel drove them both to the floor. Trapped under Daniel's weight Neal clawed at him and tried to escape.
Neal had never been a match for Daniel's strength. Daniel seemed to have forgotten about their previous conversation as well as the bag of drugs that Neal had dropped to the floor. His mind had been taken over by a violent rage and he attacked Neal like a rabid dog. Neal tried surrendering, but it quickly became clear that Daniel wasn't going to be pacified that easily.
"Help! Hel..."
Daniel reared up, sitting back on Neal's hips and back handed Neal hard enough to momentarily knock him senseless. Getting back to his feet Daniel reached down and grabbed a fist full of Neal's shirt. Still having trouble focusing Neal held on to Daniel's wrist as he hauled him to his feet. Lost in a psychotic rage Daniel was panting for breath as though he'd just run a marathon.
"Daniel..."
"I should have known," Daniel interrupted "I should have known the moment I met you that you'd be the favored son."
"Neal?" Robert's voice came from the hall. "Are you okay? What's going o..."
Robert froze in horror as he stepped in on the scene. Daniel looked up at Robert and instantly dropped Neal. Not expecting to be released Neal fell back to the paint stained floor. When Daniel grabbed the antique gun off the work table Neal scrambled to his feet to stop him. Daniel had the gun aimed at Robert when Neal tackled him.
The gun went off with the powerful roar of a black powder explosion, leaving a distinct scent in the air. Almost simultaneously Robert cried out in pain and fell back. Neal released Daniel and turned to see Robert on the floor with his hands over his badly bleeding stomach. Rushing to his side Neal dropped to his knees and put his hands over Robert's to help slow the bleeding.
"Nea...Neal..." Robert gasped "...run!"
"It's going to be okay." Neal said with far more confidence than he felt. "Daniel, get help!"
Daniel had dropped the gun in shock and was staring at the blood that was pooling under Neal's hands. Keeping the pressure on the devastating wound Neal looked over his shoulder and saw Daniel just starting at him.
"Daniel!" Neal barked. "Call 9-1-1, now!"
"No." Daniel whispered.
Realizing that Daniel wasn't going to help him Neal looked to the phone against the far wall. Risking leaving Robert's side Neal jumped up to get to the phone. Daniel sprang into action as well. He caught Neal by the upper arm and yanked him back. Daniel threw Neal against the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf that covered the side wall. Neal's back slammed into the leather bound books, knocking him breathless. Before he could recover Daniel pounced on him, using his forearm against Neal's chest to keep him pinned.
"Daniel, please, don't do this!" Neal begged. "Let me help him, you're not a killer..."
"I will be soon."
"Dani..."
Tired of listening to Neal pleading with him Daniel clamped his hand down over Neal's mouth. Having already been panting for breath Neal renewed his struggling as Daniel made it even more difficult to breath. Daniel leaned in closer and used his full weight to keep Neal pinned to the bookcase. Daniel's hot breath brushed against Neal's ear as he rested his cheek against Neal's.
"It's going to be okay, Neal." Daniel whispered soothingly. "It will be over soon. He has so many enemies, no one will be surprise and no one will miss him when he's gone."
Neal whimpered under Daniel's hand to let him know that he disagreed.
"You can't be in our line of work and not spill a little blood now and then, Neal."
Neal strained to look over at Robert. There was more than a little blood spilled as he continued to slowly bleed out. With his arms wrapped protectively over his stomach Robert panted and moaned in pain. Deep in shock he didn't try to get to his feet or get away. The powerful weapon had ripped completely through him. It wasn't until he turned his head and saw Daniel holding Neal captive that true fear spread across his face.
"Daniel...let him go." Robert said weakly.
"I am, your death is going to set him free!" Daniel was yelling at Robert but he kept his eyes locked on Neal's. "I'm setting us both free."
"I...I...should have gotten help..." Robert panted. "I'm sorry, Daniel..."
"The only thing you're sorry about is that I'm not more like Neal!"
"I...I failed you..."
"You hear that, Neal?" Daniel demanded. "He failed me? He gave up on me long ago. He knew I'd never be the studious, sophisticated, art snot willing to fetch whatever he sent me after that he'd been trying to raise. So he went out and hunted down a new victim to brainwash. A young sprayer with more talent than common sense."
"Daniel..." Robert pleaded "don't hurt him...please..."
"Are you afraid of losing Neal or is it your 'legacy' you're looking to protect?" Daniel spat angrily. "You don't even care that you're dying do you? What use is a blind artist anyway? You already have everything you want in life through Neal, don't you?"
"Th...this isn't...his fault...please..."
Neal's heart was racing painful as Daniel became increasingly crazed. Blood was still dripping from Daniel's nose from where the meth had been ruining his body and mind. Unable to free himself Neal stared at Daniel pleadingly. Already locked in his gaze Daniel began trembling violently.
"Don't look at me like that!" Daniel roared.
Daniel dug his fingers into Neal's arm and threw him to the floor. Staying down on all fours Neal scrambled away from Daniel and back to Robert's side. Weakened by the continuing blood loss he was no longer holding the wound. Neal put his hand down on the gory injury, however he found the blood was cold and thick. Neal carded his fingers into Robert's hair, but his mentor was gone. Neal reached up and closed Robert's sightless eyes.
Neal sat back on his heels and bowed his head as tears slipped silently down his face. Robert had been the only one who had ever encouraged his passion for art, even his own mother had dissuaded him from what she had considered a disgraceful way for a Texas man to spend his time. Not even Daniel had accepted Neal for who he was or who he wanted to be.
The sound of the antique gun being cocked once more pulled Neal's attention away from his sorrow. He looked over his shoulder and found Daniel taking unsteady aim at him. Neal's eyes darted to the discarded and now empty bag of meth on the floor at Daniel's feet. Neal didn't even recognize the man threatening to end his life. Daniel had probably taken the meth to stop his shaking, but the drug mixed with his own adrenaline only made matters worse.
"Daniel, he's dead...it's just you and me now." Neal said in an attempt to calm Daniel. "Please, put the gun down."
"I...I..." Daniel stuttered as he kept the weapon trained on Neal. "I can't let you turn in to him..."
"So you're going to gun me down in cold blood?" Neal asked seriously. "Daniel..."
"Be quiet! Stop talking!"
"No." Neal snarled as he got to his feet and turned on Daniel. "I'm not going to make this easy for you. You want to kill me you have to look me in the eyes and do it!"
"Neal, I...I just want..."
"You want what?" Neal demanded angrily as he stepped up to press the muzzle of the gun against his chest. "What's best for me? You want to save me from myself, is that it? Then do it! Save me from myself! Pull the trigger and save me!"
"Neal..."
"Pull the fucking trigger, Daniel!"
Despite being the one with the gun Daniel was the one with the expression of terror painted across his face. Breathing heavily Neal just stood with the weapon pressed over his heart. He stared Daniel down, silently daring him to finish what he'd started. Neal wasn't even sure why he was doing it, but he had no plans to back down now.
Neal nearly collapsed in relief when Daniel dropped the gun. He reached up and put his hand on Daniel's cheek. White powder from the crushed meth still stained Daniel's upper lip. Neal had been so used to Daniel being the one protecting him that it had never occurred to him that Daniel was just as young as he was.
"I'm sorry, Daniel."
"So am I...forgive me."
"Is it tru..."
Before Neal could finished his question to ask Daniel if he had been telling the truth about the abuse Daniel's expression returned to one of rage fueled determination. Grabbing Neal's arm in his vice like grip he spun him around and slammed him down back first onto the sturdy work table. Sweeping his arm across the table Neal knocked over bottles of spirits and caustic chemicals that were part of his trade. Daniel held him down with one arm while he grab a steel flask and opened it with his teeth.
"Daniel!" Neal cried out. "What are you doing?"
"If you can't see, you can't be his legacy."
"Daniel, no!"
"I'm sorry, Neal, I have to do this."
"No you don't! Let me go!" Neal weld his eyes shut as Daniel threatened to pour the dangerous chemical on him.
"Open your eyes!" Daniel demanded.
"No! Daniel, this is insane, pleas..."
"I swear to God I will kill you if you don't let me do this!"
Startled by the serious threat in Daniel's voice Neal made the mistake of looking up at him. Daniel took the opportunity and splashed the corrosive agent across Neal's face. The powerful turpentine was cold against his skin at first, but it quickly turned to a searing pain as it seeped into Neal's eyes. Crying out in shock Neal bucked hard against Daniel.
Assuming that the damage was done Daniel released his captive. Neal instantly reached up and clawed at the burning turpentine. His eyes were watering, but it didn't seem to be alleviating the pain. Free from Daniel's grip Neal frantically scrambled away from him, crawling over the work table. Neal fell off the far side of the table and landed in a tangle on the floor.
"Neal? Are you okay?"
Disoriented and blinded Neal kept seeking an escape from his friend turned foe. He bumped into a small set of drawers that he kept his best paint brushes in. Neal also kept his father's gun in the top drawer. Everything was out of focus but he could still see the outlines of shapes. When he caught sight of movement he ripped the drawer open and drew the weapon on Daniel.
"Neal..."
"Stay away!" Neal barked and he flicked off the safety and cocked the gun.
"I'm not going to hurt you." Daniel said as he continued to approach. "It's done, it's over. Let me help you."
"Get away from me!" Neal got to his feet, keeping his aim in the direction of Daniel's voice.
"Neal, I'm so sor..."
Backing up to get away from Daniel Neal tripped over an easel in the cluttered studio. Falling backwards Neal landed hard. Spasmodically gripping the gun tighter the blood on his hands from Robert caused his fingers to slip. Pulling back on the trigger the gun went off with a sharp crack. Daniel didn't cry out, he didn't make a sound. He simply collapsed to the floor like a dropped rag doll.
Fighting to catch his breath Neal laid in the pile of broken easels and torn canvas. He expected to feel Daniel's hand around his throat at any moment, but he'd lost the will to fight any further. The minutes ticked by and there was nothing but silence. Slowly sitting up Neal rubbed at his eyes to try and clear them, but all he could see were indistinct colors and shapes. His heart slammed painful against his ribs as he realized that there was no motion in the room.
"Da...Daniel? Daniel? Daniel!"
Back in the present Neal couldn't continue the rest of the story. Peter didn't press him for any more details, he already knew how it ended. Neal dragged his hands through his hair a few times before leaning forward and resting his elbows on his lap. Peter stayed quiet while Neal worked through the memory. Neal was staring at the mostly untouched wine cooler on the coffee table that had long since gone warm.
"I never meant to hurt him, Peter, I swear." Neal whispered. "I certainly didn't want to kill him. I loved him like a brother, and I miss him every day."
"I believe you."
"I shouldn't have taken the safety off, I should never have pointed the gun at him in the first place. Never point a weapon at anything you don't intend to kill, that's like the first rule of gun ownership, right?"
"Daniel was a threat, the fact that you didn't shoot him the first chance you got says a lot."
"I really thought that I was going to be blind the rest of my life. I almost turned the gun on myself that night...but in the end I was too cowardly, I took the only name I had left and ran."
"Opting out of suicide is never the act of a coward."
Neal nodded half heartedly and fell back into silence. Peter could see him losing focus once more as he drifted back to the past. Peter was surprised that Neal managed to normally be so light hearted and care free in his everyday life. Somehow he had recovered and learned to love life and forget consequences once again. The events had left a scar, but not a wound. It became a bit clearer to Peter why a simple four years in prison had done little to temper Neal's love of his con artist life style. Still right now Neal was eerily quiet and detached.
"Neal? Are you okay?"
"Fine. It's actually a relief to finally to have shared it."
"A secret like that is a difficult one to live with alone."
"It has been, although clearly it didn't change me that much." Neal said, mimicking Peter's thoughts.
"Well, what other skills did you have once you were out on your own?" Peter asked with his new understanding.
"None." Neal managed a slight smile. "Can I tell you one more thing before you pick up your badge?"
"Of course." Peter replied.
"The Monet, the one Walters has," Neal hesitated "it's not a forgery."
"What?"
"The painting that Walter's showed me was aged. I had just finished the Monet, the paint wasn't even dry, let alone aged. It's the original, I probably destroyed my own painting when I fell and killed Daniel."
"So all this nonsense about art fingerprinting?"
"Just a con. If they had even a basic program it would have picked up on the Monet being different than the others. I'm not that good."
Peter nodded thoughtfully. This would be something he could use against Walters if he could find a way to keep Neal's name out of the original theft.
"Can I leave now?" Neal practically begged. "I'm exhausted."
"You can go. I'll deal with Walters today."
"Thank you."
Neal slowly got to his feet and headed towards the elevator. He was a few feet away when his anklet once again screeched out a warning. Neal took a single step back and stood as still as a statue. Peter got up quickly and hunted down his discarded phone. He released the tight hold on the anklet. Neal didn't move, he continued to stay bound to the spot just inside the short range.
"It's off." Peter said gently.
Neal said nothing, he just took the few extra steps it took to get to his destination. The elevator came quickly and he stepped on it. Peter wondered if Neal was going to just go down stairs or if he'd go over to Sara's. Peter didn't have any intention of staying in the penthouse much longer, but he figured that Neal needed some space at the moment so he'd wait a few minutes before leaving. The phone in his hand started ringing. If it was Walters he wasn't going to answer it. When he saw that it was Diana he decided to take the call.
"Burke, here."
"Hey, Boss, I don't have the record unsealed yet, I'm coming into some red tape since I don't have an official case open on Daniel White. But I found out why it was sealed."
Peter listened to the rest of what little Diana had learned. Stunned by the reason behind the sealed file he barely noticed when Diana hung up. He closed his phone and stared at it for a moment before putting it away. Despite the fact that this new information contradicted the story he had just heard Peter knew that Neal hadn't lied to him, he simply didn't know the truth. Unsure of what to do next Peter put his hands on his hips and stared out over the grassy Washington Mall.
"Daniel survived..."