Chapter Fifty-one
Peter left the office and headed home, calling Elizabeth to let her know he was on his way. He felt bad about leaving Neal on his own for the night, but Agent Hughes was right; he needed to be rested for the morning meeting with OPR. He had to bring his A game; Neal needed an advocate tomorrow more than he needed a babysitter tonight.
After talking briefly with his wife, mainly trying to convince her he didn't need a four-course meal when he arrived, he called Good Samaritan to check on Neal.
"Hullo?"
He'd asked to be connected to Neal's room, and though it was Neal's voice on the phone, he sounded strange.
"Hey, Neal," Peter began, "It's Peter. How are you doing?"
"Peter," came an oddly enthusiastic reply. "I'm doing great. How're you doing?"
Great wasn't the answer Peter had expected, and though it was nice to hear the upbeat tone in Neal's voice, he knew it wasn't natural.
"I'm good," he answered hesitantly. "I was just calling to check on you before I head home."
"I'm still right where you left me," Neal replied, his enthusiasm somewhat waning. "Can't you see that from your phone?"
It took Peter a moment to realize what he was talking about. Generally, the phase checking on you referred to his pulling up Neal's tracking data to make sure he was where he was supposed to be. That's must be what Neal thought he meant.
"I'm not calling to see where you are, Neal," Peter corrected him, "I'm calling to see how you are. And you sound a little bit..." he searched for the right adjective, "off."
"Off?" That Neal was surprised by the observation was just a further indication that something was wrong.
"Yeah," Peter said, "you know, off, addled, drunk maybe."
Neal's laugh traveled across the line. "How would you know?" he asked. "You've never seen me drunk."
It was true, he'd never seen Neal drunk but he'd certainly seen him impaired. In fact, Neal had been more or less impaired for the better part of the last twenty-four hours. However, he sounded different now. Before he'd been emotional, upset; now he seemed almost cheerful. It reminded Peter of how he'd sounded when he'd found him strapped to the bed at the Howser Clinic. At least he wasn't singing.
"Did they give you medicine, Neal," he asked, "for pain maybe?"
"Yeah, they gave me a shot a little while ago," Neal replied, "and I'm feeling sooo-" he carried out the word, "much better than I was."
He certainly sounded better and a shot of morphine, or other high-powered pain medication, explained Neal's cheerful but less than articulate responses. However, Peter had been under the impression going forward his medication would be given orally.
"I thought they'd switched you to oral medication, Neal," he ventured, realizing that in Neal's present condition, he might not be the best source of reliable information. "Why did you get a shot instead?"
"Well, they tried the other first," Neal's voice dropped as if he was about to betray a confidence, "but it didn't go well."
"Didn't go well?"
"I couldn't keep it down." Peter could hear the dismay in Neal's voice. "It just came back up." Both antibiotics and opioids were notoriously hard on the stomach, and apparently, the nausea medicine and the orange jello hadn't done the trick. Neal had battled it all day, but in the end, his unsettled stomach had won out. "It was so embarrassing."
"That sort of thing happens, Neal," Peter assured him, well aware had it been the other way around he too would be mortified. "I'm sure they see it all the time. I'm just glad you're feeling better now."
"I'm just glad 'lizabeth brought me extra clothes," Neal mumbled. "Tell her I said thank you, okay?"
Peter guessed by Neal's growing inability to enunciate he would be asleep soon, and that was good; he needed rest. He'd expected Neal to ask about the meeting with Hughes, but he hadn't, and Peter was reluctant to introduce any topic, including his conversation with Agent Parker, that might disrupt his relaxed state.
"I'll tell her," Peter promised. "Try to get some rest, Neal, and I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"
Neal mumbled a reply and the call was disconnected. Peter hoped the mood shift from distress to cheerful meant the detrimental effects of the Ketamine had finally worn off. Hopefully, Neal would have a restful night, devoid of nightmares and be more emotionally stabilized tomorrow.
Tomorrow would be a big day for both of them.
WCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWC
The first thing Peter had done when he got home, after hugging his wife and delivering Neal's words of gratitude, was shower and change into something comfortable. He'd returned downstairs to find Elizabeth had headed his council and fixed only a simple, though delicious, bite of dinner. Even so, he found himself talking more than he'd eaten.
The subject, of course, had been the events of the past three days. So much had happened and so fast that Elizabeth had only gotten bits and pieces of the story. She knew what they'd learned the first few hours about Eden, but there had been more to follow. He told her about the file Agent Littleton had brought; about the photo of Neal taken from the precinct's camera and about the letter that he'd left with the Chicago Detective. Her eyes had widened as he recounted what the letter revealed about the nature of Eden's other business.
"What an evil man," she'd whispered. "Why was he not arrested?" she asked. "How did he get away with it?"
Peter explained the legalities involved and why, although Neal had specifically named him, Eden had managed to wiggle out of trafficking charges. There had been a lack of a paper trail, corroboration or witnesses willing to come forward to directly tie him to the man discovered to be behind the operation, Francis Douchant. Douchant hadn't faired as well, he assured her. The ring had been shut down, several victims rescued and Douchant had been arrested, convicted, and sent to prison.
"But Eden knew what Neal had done, didn't he?" Elizabeth asked, already knowing the answer, "That's the reason he came after him; that's the score he wanted to settle."
"Neal knew Eden would kill him if he found him, so he disappeared," he told her. "He became Neal Caffrey and came here, to New York."
"So he's been running all his life, hasn't he?" Elizabeth remarked sadly. "First from his home, then from Chicago," she paused, meeting his eyes. "Then from you."
It did bother Peter that he'd chased a teenaged Neal so relentlessly, but he also knew that, regardless of the reason why, the path the young man had been on did not lead to a good destination. Eventually, Neal would have wound up in jail or dead. At least, this way, it had been the former, and the jail had been in the US and not some prison in Prague, or worse, yet, someone's private dungeon in Italy or France. Neal had a life now even if it was hemmed in by a two-mile radius. He did good work and had people in his life who genuinely cared for him. It was Peter's hope that, by the time his sentence was finished, he'd realize that and choose to make it his home. Not because he had too, but because he wanted to; because he knew it was where he belonged.
"Yes, he has," Peter admitted, "but he doesn't have to run anymore. He has a life here, a home," he stated emphatically "He just has to learn how to believe that."
Peter had told Neal that before; on the tarmac before the plane Neal planned to leave on had exploded, taking Kate with it. Neal had wanted to believe him. Peter had seen it in his eyes. He wanted to believe he mattered, that he belonged somewhere, but he was afraid. And given what Peter had learned about Neal's past, he better understood why.
After Neal had fled Chicago, he'd been a one man operation. He hadn't joined anyone; no gangs, crews or organizations. He hadn't tried to belong, to fit in. He'd kept to himself and stayed on his own. The only people he'd made any connections to had been Kate, Mozzie, and oddly enough, the FBI agent who'd been chasing him.
Peter and Elizabeth moved from the dining area to the sofa, leaving their dishes untouched on the table, and Peter moved on to the more recent developments; what had happened during the past twenty-four hours when he'd been at Neal's side. Elizabeth knew Neal had been out of it, particularly in the beginning when he'd been experiencing the disassociative effects of the drug he'd been given. Peter had been at a loss; when Neal had been drugged at the Howser Clinic, he'd been loopy but surprisingly cheerful. This time, however, had been much different. He hadn't been cheerful; he'd been afraid, traumatized and heartbroken. Faced with such emotions, Peter had called Elizabeth for both direction and encouragement. But things had happened that he hadn't shared, either because he'd chosen not to at the time or simply because he hadn't had the opportunity. Now that he was home, he finally opened up about it all.
He'd learned more about Neal's past in the last three days than he had in eight years and he knew more about his time with Terrence Eden than could be found in any records or files. Some facts he'd learned from official sources; files and reports from the Chicago Police Department, Cyber Crimes, and Violent Crimes. He'd told Elizabeth about those. Now he related the other, less factual yet equally illuminating, information he'd gathered from Neal himself. Neal's drug-induced ramblings gave Peter an idea of how he had experienced his life in Chicago; as a life of fear and uncertainty. During his more lucid, yet still unguarded, moments Neal had revealed even more heart-wrenching details. The photo from the Chicago precinct, something Elizabeth hadn't seen, as well as Neal's current condition, which she had, confirmed Eden's reputation as a violent and vindictive man. None of these personal observations was something Peter could share with anyone except Elizabeth. He certainly couldn't tell Agent Hughes or include it in any report. It would betray Neal's trust in the cruelest way; revealing aspects of his past that even Neal himself refused to acknowledge.
He told her he now better understood the choices Neal had made and how he'd come to be the man he now was. He also admitted many of his assumptions about Neal had been wrong and many of hers had been right. He'd been reluctant to accept her theory that Neal was searching for a father figure but in light of what he'd learned, he now knew it was true. It also brought up his own guilt about the way he too, often used Neal's eagerness to please for his own advantage. He could justify that it was for the greater good, the Bureau, and a way for Neal to make amends for his past transgressions, but at the end of the day, Neal had been good for his career. That was an upsetting and emotional topic and although it seemed counterproductive to relaxing, talking through it was the only way Peter could ever hope to unwind enough to sleep. Elizabeth understood and listened, interrupting him only occasionally to either correct or encourage him.
There were things that, as an agent, he was bound by duty to share but had not done so. He knew before Neal had been Neal, he had been Danny. He also was fairly certain Danny had been Eden's forger, not simply a boy who'd worked for him. Yet he'd stood in Agent Hughes office and listened to Agent Parker's erroneous assumptions and said nothing.
On the other hand, there were things he shouldn't share that he had. He'd told Neal about the old case; had warned him that agents from Violent Crimes would be coming to talk to him. He knew that was strictly forbidden yet he had done it anyway. Of course, that was a point in which Elizabeth reminded him that had been the right thing to do; it would have been cruel to allow Neal to be blindsided in that way.
He also told her about Neal's morning breakdown and his promise that, if Neal chose not to cooperate, he'd find a way to get him out of it. That hadn't only been an emotionally driven and unprofessional response; it had also been a foolhardy one. There was precedence for crime victims not being required to assist the prosecution but only when it was determined that doing so would be detrimental to their mental health. That had been his only plan of recourse; to get Neal to speak with someone qualified to make that determination and just that seemed like a longshot.
But for a change, things seemed to have taken a positive turn. Neal had made his proclamation at a time of great emotional stress, and yet he'd still finished the statement for Agent Littleton. The effects of the Ketamine were wearing off, and as Neal became less emotional and more pragmatic, he'd realize cooperation or at least the pretense of it, would serve him better than outright refusal. His situation was further improved by the fact that Violent Crimes did not plan to pursue the trafficking case against Eden. They realized, and rightly so that even if they found the letter writer, getting corroboration would be difficult and after a decade, his testimony would be easily challenged. Cyber Crimes had a solid case, and it was in everyone's best interest to let them prosecute Eden to the full extent of the law. With the charges levied against him the man would be sent away for half a century.
"If they're not going to pursue the trafficking case anyway," Elizabeth began, "why do they even need to talk to Neal?"
Peter explained what Agent Parker had said and told her since the purpose was to tie up loose ends and not build a case, the discussion with Neal wouldn't be as intense as they'd previously feared. There would be no need for vetting or digging into his backstory. There would be no testimony or cross examinations to prepare for. Agent Parker wanted to talk to Neal, but it would just be a conversation; not an inquisition.
Of course, Neal didn't know that yet, and he'd need to before Agent Parker arrived at the hospital to speak with him. Hopefully, being aware of the limited purpose of the visit would quell Neal's fears and make him more willing to answer the agent's questions. How much he'd share, Peter was uncertain, but since the case wasn't bound for trial, it didn't matter. Again, as an agent, Peter shouldn't be giving Neal any information on the investigation, but again, that's what he planned to do.
"That explains what Agent Parker wants with Neal," Elizabeth said when he'd finished. "But what about the detective? What is he here for?"
"Retired detective," he clarified. "He's not here in any official capacity," Peter told her, recalling what the man had said in Hughes's office. "Said he was just tagging along." At her questioning look, he added. "He's the detective Neal left the letter with."
"Is he's here to make a positive identification?" It was a logical assumption. One Peter had made himself.
"Maybe," he conceded, "but I think it's more than that." He shrugged. "Everyone has those cases, El," he explained wearily, "those that stick with you. I think this one was his. A kid shows up in his precinct, beat up, leaves that bombshell of a letter on his desk and then disappears without a trace?" he shook his head. "It's bothered him, all these years, not knowing what happened to him."
"So he's come see him," Elizabeth surmised, understanding softening her eyes. "Just to put his mind at ease."
"That was my impression. I think he, like everyone else, expected a body to eventually turn up; not an actual living, breathing person."
"They thought he was dead."
"It seemed the most likely explanation for his vanishing the way he did," Peter told her. "Eden has a reputation; they thought he'd killed him."
"And they didn't know who he was or where he came from? Even back then?"
Elizabeth knew the effort he'd put into trying to find background on Neal Caffrey. Part of any investigation, any search for a suspect, included research into their past. It was important to know where they'd come from, who their family was, where they'd felt most secure in their lives. Most criminals, at some point, would want to reconnect with the familiar, to something that made them feel safe. Sometimes it was a call to their mother or favorite aunt; others it was an ill-advised return to a favorite old-time haunt. Many suspects had been nabbed simply because an agent had done their homework and had surveillance in the right place.
Of course, his search for information on Neal's past yielded no results. As far as he could tell, Neal had no past. But he had found something to use to trap his prey; Kate Moreau.
"No," Peter replied. "They couldn't find anyone who'd identify him. They ran his description through the Missing Children's Database and checked all missing person reports but got nothing. Whoever he was," he added, recalling Agent Littleton's words, "No one was looking for him."
"That's the saddest thing I've ever heard," she remarked quietly. "I know it's been a hard road, but at least he's here now. He's not alone. Like you said," she added. "he has a life, a home. He has us."
Peter knew all that was true, but still, Neal had to learn how to believe it.
