Hey guys :), thanks again for reading and your comments, they mean a lot to me! I had to split the next chapter again, so the ending is a bit odd this time. But it took too much time. The second half will be ready soon. And I promise there'll be more action then. Have fun!
Peter was sitting at the kitchen table, watching El how she prepared some pancakes for their breakfast. He didn't talk about the incident during the night, he somehow wanted to protect his wife and didn't think she necessarily had to know.
"You sure that you two will get along today? I'll probably be back late tonight. The exhibition starts next weekend and there's still a lot to prepare." El had been commissioned by a small museum to design the grand opening of a new art exhibition.
"Of course, hon. I mean, I'm a Special Agent, I should be able to handle a sick teenager, don't you think?", he joked half-heartedly.
She turned a raised her eyebrows. "First of all, I don't think handling teenagers or kids in general is one of your strongest abilities. And I suppose we do both agree he isn't really what you would call a "normal teenager, don't we?".
Peter sighted. "You're right. But I'll try my best."
She sat down across the table. "Don't push him too much, Peter. Try to be gentle, forget your FBI-habits from time to time.", she said softly.
He nodded. "I'll try to. I'm eager to get to know more about his past. Not only the criminal parts of it, although I guess these are what Hughes and the whole FBI are most interested in, but also who abused him, where he came from. What about his family? I can't believe that there's no one …". He abruptly stopped when he noticed footsteps on the stairs. They both looked expectantly through the open kitchen door and could see Neal coming in reluctantly, barefoot and still in his pyjamas. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked pale, but a little less tensed. His brown mob of hair stuck out in all possible directions.
He was standing in the bright morning light, which was shining through the kitchen windows and looked even thinner and younger in the far too big clothes than he did yesterday. The kid stopped in the door frame, obviously uncertain how to behave.
El smiled warmly at him. "Come in, love. Good morning! Did you sleep well?"
Neal glanced in Peter's direction for a moment and then nodded quickly. He hesitantly entered the room and sat down as far away from Peter as possible.
"Yes, thank you very much Elizabeth. I hope you did, too?"
"Thanks, honey, I indeed did. What would you like to drink? Coffee, tea or something cold like apple juice or water?", she asked him gently.
"Tea would be nice, thank you very much.", he replied quietly.
"And are pancakes all right? I didn't know what you like."
"Of course they are. Please don't make a fuss, there really is no need to. I'm not a picky eater at all and pancakes are perfect. I haven't had a proper breakfast for ages. Thanks again! But I have to admit that I don't have much of an appetite.", he revealed and offered a tired smile himself.
El didn't listen, shook her head and served him a cup of tea and a plate with three pancakes on it.
"You have to eat, Neal. You still look pale and sick and you're too thin, love. Your body needs help to recover. No resist talk, please!"
He looked at his plate. "I'll try my best!", he said chuckling and hesitantly started eating.
El put her mug into the sink and turned to leave. "I'm afraid I have to go now. Peter will stay with you today. I'll be back in the evening."
Peter noticed a hint of fear in the boy's face and a quick glance in his direction.
"We'll get along, won't we?", he said reassuringly. Neal nodded, looking unconvinced.
Peter stood up and kissed his wife on her forehead. "Have a nice day, hon."
But before El could leave the room, the kid raised his voice. "Elizabeth, wait please… I just wanted to apologize for my bad behaviour yesterday. I didn't mean to be rude or grumpy, it's just… it's simply a lot going on right now and I felt a bit overwhelmed. I really appreciate what you're doing for me. I mean… the two of you!", he said in a flat voice and didn't look up while talking.
El looked touched. "You don't have to apologize, love. Of course you were overwhelmed. Who wouldn't be in your situation? And by the way, your manners are far better than the ones I would usually expect of a teenager your age, even in your grumpy mode!", she said and smiled again. "Please don't worry love, everything is all right. But I really have to go now! I see you both in the evening! Have a nice day and try to rest as much as you can, Neal." She said and turned to leave the house.
After she had left, a heavy silence spread in the room. Neal stopped eating, but still concentrated on his plate. He was certainly feeling uneasy in Peter's company again.
"Neal…", he began. "I promised I wouldn't talk about…what I saw last night, and I won't.", he paused for a second. "Try to relax a little, kid. Use this opportunity to rest and recover, you're safe here. No one will harm you and there's nothing to worry about at the moment."
Neal slowly raised his gaze and looked at him. "I know. I'll try.", he simply replied quietly.
Peter nodded. "Try to eat a bit more. How about some tv afterwards? You can lay down on the couch, with another cup of tea maybe, while I'll go through some files.", he tried to sound as encouraging as possible.
Now it was Neal's turn to nod, even though it wasn't really convincing. They both sat in silence for a few more minutes. Then Neal looked up again and hesitantly asked: "What are these files about?"
Peter felt surprised by his sudden interest. "Expensive wines. Someone broke into a wealthy landowner's estate and exchanged some of the most expensive ones for perfect counterfeits. We have to find out how he did that and first of all which ones aren't the real ones. It's not really our usual business, but the landowner is a friend of the mayor and… well, never mind. Are you looking for new working possibilities?", he smiled at Neal.
The boy smiled back nervously and shook his head. "Just so. Did you check the label's paper? They sometimes use old books to do it right, but it's difficult to find pieces of paper that are exactly from the right time and place and it's difficult to forge something without a proper template. They use certain methods to age the paper artificially, which are often easy to identify. But I suppose you're aware of the techniques. And did you know that if they are older than 1949, I mean manufactured before the Manhattan Project, there shouldn't be any Cesium-137 inside the bottles?" Neal was clearly in his element and looked much more alive now, his bright blue eyes were sparkling.
Peter laughed out loud. "You obviously know a lot about the topic. I don't assume it's worth asking where from?", he said chuckling.
Neal shook his head, the well-known Caffrey-Smile on his face now. Peter felt the tension in the room decreasing. "I tell you what. How about you finish eating and after that you sit down on the sofa with a nice warm blanket and I'll join you and we both take a look at these files? I'd really appreciate your help."
Neal paused for a moment, but then nodded. He took a few more bites and then they headed towards the living-room. They spent all morning together on the sofa, Satchmo to their feet's. At first Neal behaved very cautious, but soon relaxed and Peter made sure that there was always enough space between the two of them. Neal knew a lot and Peter could hardly keep up with writing everything down. It was almost noon when Peter leaned back and closed the file.
"Pretty impressive, kid.", he had to admit. Neal pulled up the corner of his mouth and looked at him expectantly. Peter met his gaze. "Where did you learn all of this?"
The kid shrugged, a neutral expression in his face. He really made a good con when he was in control. "Here and there. I've a good grasp, you know.", he answered undetermined.
But Peter wasn't ready to give up yet. "What about your parents? Were they part of your businesses?"
The Agent could see how the boy tensed again. He clenched both fists and concentrated on his lap again for a few seconds. Then, to Peter's surprise, he replied stiffly.
"Yes, kind of."
Peter felt breathless and anxious to say something wrong now. "Both of them?", he asked softly.
Neal shook his head. "Just… just my dad I suppose.", he answered hesitantly.
"What about your mum?" Neal paused again and Peter could see how difficult answering was for the kid.
"Can't remember properly. She left me when I was little. Said she would come back to get me… but she didn't. And then she died and was gone forever. End of story. Are you satisfied now?", he blurted out, still didn't look up and breathing heavily.
Peter didn't know what to say. Without thinking he raised his hand and put it on the boy's shoulder. Neal was startled and jumped up, terrified. He looked at Peter bewildered, coughing again, then slowly sat down again next to him, trying to regain his composure, a mixture of desperation and exhaustion in his face.
"I'm… I'm sorry. I just… I can't control it.", he quietly admitted and covered his face in his hands.
"You don't have to be sorry, kid. It's not your fault. Your abuser should be sorry. And he will be if I'll ever find him.", Peter groaned.
Neal leaned back warily, still looking down. "I told you I don't want to talk about it."
"I know, and I promised. I won't push you… for now. But if you'll ever feel ready to talk, please let me know."
The kid nodded slightly and ran his fingers through his hair. Peter could see a hint of pain again. "You need your medication, kid. And after that I suggest a nap upstairs, all right?". Neal nodded again.
"May I help you with your back again?", Peter asked gently.
"No, I can do it. But…thanks!", the boy quickly replied.
When Neal went upstairs, he couldn't believe what he'd just told Peter. He didn't know why he did it. He felt somehow attached to the Agent, but he knew he couldn't let it happen. He had to betray him in the end, there wasn't another possibility and becoming close wouldn't help to let that happen. Furthermore, he wasn't even sure of all this simply was part of a strategy to make him talk. Peter would always be an FBI-Agent and surely couldn't change that, so he had to keep his cover up, no matter what.
After all this mess, in his new life with Mozzie, he wouldn't need a Federal Agent who knew too much. By now he doubted Peter would ever leave him alone anyway. He sat down on his bed and struggled not to cry. He wished he could just leave the house and start all over again, but he knew it wouldn't work like that. With a huge sight he tried to calm down a little, lay down and curled up tightly, even though his rips felt like fire in his chest. But the pain somehow reassured him, he felt more alive and able to control his surroundings. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the pain. Within minutes he was fast asleep.
After two hours, Neal came back down, in his shabby clothes now, and looked much better. He even smiled a little.
"Hey buddy, do you feel better? You definitely look like that.
"Yeah, thanks, I'm fine.", he replied and noticed the new files on the living-room table. "So… what about these files? What is this case about? May I have a look?", he said, his bright blue eyes glittering.
Peter grinned. "You must have found a taste for it!", he teased him. Neal shrugged, still smiling. So, they both spent another two hours together on the sofa with a bunch of files and Peter felt once more impressed. How could a kid of just fifteen know so much about all this stuff?
He was horrified to confront Neal with this and other questions, but he knew the time would come. When Peter felt it was enough for the day, he closed the latest file and turned on the TV. They had a short discussion about what to watch, because Neal came out as a football and sports in general hater, but convinced him – using his I'm-the-Agent-I-can-determine"- joker, so they both sat and watched the game, provided with a hot tea for Neal and a beer for Peter.
At first, Neal grumbled periodically how stupid this and that was, but soon went quiet and Peter could see his eye lids closing gradually. After a little while, he fell asleep and slowly slid to the side, so that his head was suddenly resting on Peter's shoulder.
He didn't dare to move and looked down at Neal. The kid looked so relaxed and peaceful, the tension almost disappeared. A teenager full of contradictions. They sat in silence for about half an hour like that, when Peter could finally hear the front door.
"I'm back, boys.", El shouted and entered the living room. She immediately fell silent when she saw Peter holding his forefinger to his lips and Neal resting on his shoulder, her expression full joy.
She kissed Peter's hair and whispered in his ear: "Hey hon. That's so sweet. I'll prepare dinner for the three of us."
Peter smiled and nodded slightly, so that the kid wouldn't wake up. It took another half an hour before Neal finally moved during a touch down of his team, which made a lot of noise in the TV. He was startled again and looked around in confusion, backing away from Peter.
"Please don't say your sorry again!", Peter chuckled. "It's all right, I liked it to be your pillow!".
Neal slowly relaxed and grinned sheepishly. "I bet you haven't had the honour of a criminal sleeping on your shoulder before, have you?", he asked mischievously.
Peter laughed again. After that, they joined El in the kitchen and spent a nice dinner together. Neal ate well and thanked El several times for cooking. When they had finished the main dish, El stood up and took away the plates.
"You two wait here for a minute, I have a little something as a dessert especially for Neal.".
Peter could see the confused expression on Neal's face. He didn't know what his wife was talking about, either. She left the room and came back a few minutes later. She turned of the light, a cake with 15 candles in her hand, singing "Happy birthday". Peter smiled, full of affection for his precious wife. He had told her, that Neal hadn't have a proper birthday and of course she couldn't ignore that.
But when he looked away from her and concentrated on Neal, he could see something was wrong. The boy didn't move at all and looked at the cake, horrified. Peter could see his hands trembling again. When El reached the table, she could see the horror in his face too and stopped singing.
Neal suddenly stood up and left the table mechanically. He headed out of the kitchen and they could hear the front door slap.
"What did I do? What is this about?", El said, close to tears.
Peter shook his head. "Don't worry hon, it wasn't your fault.", he hastily said and followed Neal out.
