Chapter 36

'Double scotches all around' Neal called out as the three men settled into a quiet booth in the corner of the pub.

The reception had ended shortly after seven o'clock and Sara had encouraged Neal to go out and have a quiet drink with Peter and Mozzie before heading home. It had been an exhausting couple of days and she could see he needed time to re-boot and re-energize after the emotional events of the day. He had sent her home with the kids, glad for the opportunity to sit with his two best friends and share a couple of drinks while they told their best June stories.

Neal managed to pull himself up to his feet long enough to shift his weight onto the edge of the booth, abandoning the dastardly chair by the side of the table. He loved it when he could leave it behind for a few minutes and sit on a normal piece of furniture. Over the past few days, he'd gotten better at shifting his weight and with the pain slowly starting to fade in his chest, movements were becoming a little less cumbersome. He'd begun to get some semblance of sensation in his legs, something he'd been reluctant about admitting even to Sara – just in case it was his imagination.

'Aren't you taking pain medication?' Peter asked, as he stared down at the drink the waitress had set down in front of his best friend.

'I skipped the afternoon dose so I could have a drink' Neal said dismissively as he took a long slow sip from his glass.

He hadn't had a drink since the shooting and the amber liquid tasted amazing as it passed his taste buds and coated his parched throat. Ever since the accident, Neal felt like he was being treated like a child by both Sara and Peter. He knew they had his best interests at heart but they seemed to be forgetting that he was a middle-aged man, more than capable of making his own decisions. He wondered at times if he should invest in a sign he could wear around his neck that read: 'Only the legs are out of commission'.

The place they'd chosen, at Mozzie's urging, was a quiet little pub not too far from one of his safe houses. He'd confessed that he and June often met there on Wednesday afternoons for gin martinis.

'Used to sit right over there' Mozzie said, pointing to a small table by the window. 'June loved to people watch. We used to make bets with each other about where they were going, who they were meeting...'

'So, how did you know which one of you was right?' Peter asked, clueless.

'Oh, that's easy. June was always right' Mozzie answered with assurance.

Neal chuckled at his friend's response; he was right of course – June had always had terrific instincts when it came to people and their motivations.

'She had an uncanny knack of sizing people up the moment she laid eyes on them. Look at me…' Neal boasted. 'She trusted me from day one despite me confessing that I'd just been released from prison.'

'What about me?' Peter chimed in with a frown. 'She didn't trust me for the longest time and I was an FBI agent.'

Neal took another sip of his drink and gave Peter a knowing look, eyebrows raised. 'I rest my case' he said as Mozzie chuckled.

'The only time I ever saw her 'people radar' on the fritz was when Byron's friend, Ford, came to visit' Neal said wistfully.

'Well, luckily we had her back that time' Peter said, recalling the case where the older man had tried to con his way back into June's life.

'She was blinded by her memories of Byron – she missed him so much' Mozzie added, his voice nostalgic.

'To June' he added as the trio lifted their glasses in unison.

'You know, I'll never forget the first time I walked into the house at 87 Riverside Drive' Peter recounted. 'There stood June with that annoying little yapper of hers…'

'…Bugsy...' Neal interrupted, batting his eyelashes in that no-it-all way of his.

'Whatever' Peter continued, waving him off with his hand as if he were a pesky bug. 'There she stood with that ugly mutt in her arms and her high heel shoes, all decked out at 7:30 in the morning. When she pointed me up to your place, I thought for sure there had to be some mistake.'

Neal smiled, recalling Peter's face as he'd walked out onto the terrace that day, incensed to see him having the best coffee money could buy as he relaxed with gorgeous Cindy sitting nearby.

'But that was before I realized what a charmed life Neal Caffrey lived -' Peter said, stopping suddenly as he looked over at Neal's wheelchair, feeling bad about his comment.

Neal saw the look on his best friend's face. 'It's okay, Peter. You're right; I rode on fumes for a really long time…' he admitted.

He was enjoying the company of his two best friends and nothing was going to ruin the moment, least of all a passing comment by Peter who'd spoken without forethought.

'Well, June must have recognized a kindred spirit when I knocked on her door because she didn't hesitate to let me in' Mozzie said, staring down Peter who was feeling like the odd man out.

'She was a sneaky board game player though' Mozzie added. 'Especially when we played Candyland; I once lost a bottle of Shackleton to her in a high stakes game. She was the only person I ever met whose tells I couldn't figure out.'

'As I recall, she donated that bottle of Shackleton to a worthy cause when we tried to duplicate it to draw out Dennis Flynn' Neal reminded him.

'June was always a team player' Mozzie agreed.

'Yeah, when it was 'team Neal'' said Peter looking over at his best friend. 'She would have done anything for you, buddy.'

'Including help train you so you could break into that place on the Stanzler case' said Neal, recalling how Peter had briefly played the role of conman.

'... and you were not an easy person to train' Mozzie reminded him. 'You would have made a terrible criminal, Suit.'

'Well, she did pitch in on a lot of our cases back then – she helped me print those phoney symphony tickets when I was working on the Stradivarius case with Sara...' Neal recalled.

'... and she did lend you Byron's pool cue when we worked that theft at Yankee Stadium' Mozzie added.

The trio grew quiet as all the memories of June came flooding back. She had definitely been unique – one in a million.

'You know what I miss most of all' said Mozzie as he took a long pull on his drink. 'Just hanging out with her, having a nice martini, chatting... and she could throw a cock block like no other -'

'I beg to differ' Neal interrupted as he recalled how Mozzie had interfered vigorously in his relationship with Sara in the early days. 'I think that distinction goes to you Moz!'

'But, one thing's for sure, she did cover my ass a couple of times...' Neal added as he stared into space '... hell, more than a couple of times. When Sara walked in that day with the police looking for that FAA envelope, I thought June was going to tackle her to the ground to keep her from coming up the stairs…'

He smiled wistfully; he couldn't believe that the incident he was recalling had happened over twenty years before. Where had the time gone? Neal temporarily shook off the nostalgia and motioned for the waitress to bring over another round.

June might not have been Irish but she deserved a good old fashioned wake.

WCWCWC

'I'll ne'er forget it' Neal laughed, his speech slurred.

Peter and Mozzie exchanged quizzical looks. They were on their third scotch in just over an hour and were starting to mellow out but Neal seemed to be way drunker than either one of them was. He'd yanked off his jacket, throwing in carelessly on the seat beside him and taken off his tie, not caring that it had slipped off and onto to the floor. Peter had been noticing over the past few minutes that Neal's movements were becoming increasingly clumsy, his usual poise unaccounted for and his speech messy and slightly incoherent.

'Neal, are you sure it's safe to have alcohol with that medication?' Mozzie asked.

'I'm tellin' ya, it's fine' Neal said, gesticulating wildly.

'I really don't think so, buddy' Peter said, a little more firmly this time.

'What do you say we head back to your place and meet up with the ladies?' he added, trying to make the suggestion sound casual.

The last thing he wanted to do was upset Neal on a day such as this but one thing was for certain, he couldn't in all good conscience let him imbibe any more alcohol. Regardless of Neal's assessment of the situation, they were obviously witnessing a dangerous combination of pain medication and fine whiskey.

'Well, I can't drive anyway, sooo whadoesitmatter?' Neal managed to say as he pointed unsteadily to the wheels on his chair.

'You know, theeese are greaaat wheels – bet I could outrun the two of ya' Neal said as he made a move to grab for his chair.

For a moment, both Peter and Mozzie were terrified he was actually going to climb on board and take off in a cloud of dust and they relaxed when Neal returned to his drink, staring into the near empty glass.

'I loved her, I really, really loved her' he lamented, his head hanging down and his voice growing unsteady.

Peter brought his hand to rest on Neal's shoulder. 'I know buddy. She was one in a million, that's for sure.'

He glanced nervously in Mozzie's direction. If they didn't want to have to pick Neal up off the floor in a puddle of tears, they'd better make a move and soon. Peter stood, bringing Neal's chair a little closer so he could climb aboard.

'What do you say we head back, it's getting late' he said in an attempt to get Neal home safely.

Neal stumbled as he tried to manoeuvre himself back into the chair, Mozzie's arm catching him before he tumbled to the ground.

'Thanks, buddy' Neal murmured as he finally found his way into the chair.

'I've been wanting to name her' Neal said loudly, seemingly out of the blue. '...was thinking of calling it... Mildred... or fuckin' Edna. Whadda you guys think?'

The patrons nearby looked up as Neal swore like a sailor, buoyed by the attention he was getting from the rapt audience.

'I think... we... we should have a contest' he said, louder, attracting even more attention.

Peter and Mozzie were ready to take their leave, eager to avoid making a scene but Neal seemed to be hitting his stride as he continued addressing everyone within earshot.

'How many people vote for 'Mildred'?' he was shouting as Peter tried desperately to grab the chair's grips in an attempt to leave.

'Wai, wai, wai, wai, wait' Neal said, shooing his hand away from the back of the wheelchair.

'What about 'fuckin' Edna'? Any takers?' Neal shouted out as everyone giggled.

Even impaired, Neal still had irrefutable charm and the patrons began to react, some of them calling out one or the other of the two names Neal had suggested. Before long, Neal had the whole crowd involved in voting, with 'fuckin' Edna' the clear winner.

Mozzie and Peter watched the spectacle in awe and Neal finally settled down, pleased with the outcome.

'O-kay, now...' he finally said as he looked up at Peter '...you can push fuckin' Edna.'

WCWCWC

Sara hung up the phone and stared up at her best friend across from her at the kitchen table.

'What's the matter?' El asked as she took in the concerned look on her friend's face.

'That was Peter. He says Neal had just a couple of drinks but he's totally wasted' she said as she reached for her purse. 'I'm going to call his case coordinator just to see what she says.'

Elizabeth listened with interest as Sara explained things on the phone, noticing her face begin to relax at whatever explanation was being given to her at the other end. She finally hung up, turning to El as she spoke.

'She said that there's a buildup of medication in Neal's system and that he's just having an amplified reaction to the booze he's ingested. He just needs to sleep it off' Sara explained, relieved.

'Drunk Neal' was a very rare occurrence indeed; she might have witnessed it three or four times since she'd known him but generally, Neal didn't do well with altered states of consciousness whether it was alcohol or pain medication and on the few occasions he'd been given meds in hospital, he had given her quite a show. She wasn't quite sure what to expect when he finally made it home but she was grateful to Peter and Mozzie for keeping an eye on him and keeping him from getting into trouble.

She didn't have to wait long; within half an hour the threesome arrived and she could hear Neal belting out 'Oh Danny Boy' at the top of his lungs from their front porch.