Chapter Five

"Caffrey's actions not only make a fool out of you, Agent Burke," Hughes's voice was tight with anger, "but of all of us. I put my reputation on the line for you. You assured me you could keep him under control."

Like Peter, Agent Hughes had immediately placed the blame for the incident at Neal's feet. He understood the inclination-he'd done the same thing. But he'd thought learning Neal had been viciously beaten by four assailants, was currently in a medically induced coma with a machine breathing for him, would have at least quelled the man's outrage.

It hadn't. The recriminations not only at Neal but at him as well continued.

Peter tried to rein in his temper. It had been a long, stressful night. He was tired, after all, and Agent Hughes was his superior. And, it was true Neal's record was against him in this. The Detectives had jumped to the same conclusion. And to be honest, so had he.

"I understand your concerns, sir," he placated, "but at this point, we don't know what happened down there. All we do know is that Neal is the victim of a violent crime. The NYPD is investigating the incident."

"This is Caffrey, Agent Burke," Hughes shot back."And Vinegar Hill is a hotbed of criminal activity. What the hell was he doing there?"

It was a valid question. One he hoped to get an answer to as soon as Neal regained consciousness.

"I don't know, sir," He admitted. "But-"

"I knew this would happen," Agent Hughes cut in, his temper still boiling. "It was just a matter of time. Criminals are criminals, Burke; they don't change. This work release agreement was a mistake. I told you the first time he-"

"Sir," It was Peter's turn to interject. His face felt hot, and his heart was pounding in his ears. "We don't know what happened," He reiterated firmly. "It's premature, not to mention, unfair, to assume Neal is guilty without any evidence." He knew his tone was aggressive and inappropriate, but he couldn't help it. It was true, and he was too tired, stressed, and worried to curb it. "He was wearing his ankle," he pressed. "He had his phone and was carrying proper ID. He was within his radius. There is nothing at this point to suggest he was doing anything wrong."

There was a strained silence on the line. Heat, and a bit of regret, prickled up Peter's neck. He shouldn't have spoken to his boss that way. Hughes was right, the work release agreement was unconventional, and he had put his neck out on the line. If Neal had been involved in something illegal, it would reflect poorly on him and White Collar.

"Except that he was in a back alley in Vinegar Hill at eleven o'clock at night." Hughes's voice was unnervingly calm. "Can you guarantee Caffrey wasn't involved in anything illegal?" It wasn't fair of Hughes to ask that. Of course, he couldn't guarantee it. No one could. "That's what I thought. I will hold off on filing the paperwork to end the agreement until after you talk to Caffrey." That was something, Peter thought irritably. At least Hughes wasn't going to end the agreement while Neal was in a coma. He was at least going to give him a chance to defend himself. "I expect answers by lunch, Agent Burke."

Hughes ended the call without waiting for a response. Peter let out a hard breath. He'd known Hughes would be angry and, like him, assume Neal was up to something no good. But his lack of compassion or concern for Neal's well-being was inexcusable. He wasn't the only one who wanted answers, he wanted them too, but there was no guarantee they'd have any by noon. At least, not from Neal. Though the sedatives would be stopped at ten, the nurse had told him that didn't mean Neal would immediately wake up. It could be hours before he regained consciousness. And depending upon his condition when he did, even longer before he could answer questions.

Of course, it was possible the NYPD would have turned up something by then. He just hoped whatever it was, it didn't make talking to Neal a moot point.

WCWCWC

"Well, I feel better," Peter said, rubbing his freshly shaven chin as he exited the public bathroom on the main floor of the hospital. Elizabeth had been kind enough to bring a razor and a change of clothes to the hospital. He slung the garment bag that now held the rumbled clothes he'd slept in over his shoulder. It wasn't even eight a.m., and the day had already been long. It was partly because it more or less blended into the previous one and partly because he knew there was a lot of likely unpleasant territory to cover before it was over. "Do I look better?"

His weariness didn't escape his wife's notice. Sympathy filled her blue eyes. "You look tired," she replied. "Did you get any rest?"

"I think you have to be in a coma to get any rest in a hospital." He spoke only in half jest; between the alarms, announcements, and staff checking in every half hour, he'd only managed a few brief catnaps since he'd begun his vigil hours ago. "How about you?"

"I got more than you did," she answered. "I don't sleep well when you aren't home, and I was worried about Neal. But at least I had a bed."

Peter gave a slight shrug. "The chair wasn't that bad," he told her as they started back toward the lobby. "It's just the ICU is a busy place, even at night."

She nodded in understanding. "I can imagine. And I know how worried you are about Neal. I'm just glad there weren't any complications."

"Yeah, me too," Peter agreed. "He's still not out of the woods yet," he cautioned, "but the nurse this morning said the signs were good."

"That sounds encouraging," she noted. "Have you had anything to eat?"

He shook his head. "No, I had coffee before I called Agent Hughes, but that's it." He nodded to the hall to their right. "Want to grab breakfast in the cafeteria?"

She agreed, and soon they were seated. He had a plate of bacon, eggs, and several sausage links. She had a bagel: just one, a small yogurt, and some fruit.

"How did Agent Hughes take the news?" She asked, pulling at the top of her yogurt cup.

"Not well," Peter answered tersely. "I'm sure his blood pressure spiked at about six-thirty this morning. I know mine did."

She frowned at his tone. "What happened? Oh," she continued without waiting for his answer. "Let me guess. Like you," she waved her fork at him. "he blames Neal for being there."

She wasn't wrong, but the accusation stung, especially after his exchange with Agent Hughes. He did blame Neal for being somewhere he shouldn't have been, and he had been angry. But once he saw Neal and realized how badly hurt he was, his concern had quickly outpaced his anger. That hadn't been the case with Agent Hughes. The fact that Neal had been viciously beaten by four assailants and could have died in that alley hadn't seemed to phase Hughes in the least. He'd been more concerned about the reputation of White Collar and, yes, his professional reputation than he had been about Neal's health. That had angered him more than Neal's unexplained appearance in that alley.

"Yes, I do blame Neal for being there," he admitted in a bit of a huff, "But right now, I'm more worried about him than mad at him. There's time for all that later." He let out a breath. "But Hughes is furious. He's so certain Neal was at fault he's ready to end his work release agreement."

She stared at him in disbelief. "You mean send him back to prison? Without even talking to him?" Her face flushed in anger. "You don't even know what happened yet," she protested hotly, echoing almost verbatim his words to Hughes. "Neither one of you do. Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?"

"Well, unfortunately, where this agreement is concerned, it doesn't matter whether he's guilty or not," he pointed out. "Working at White Collar isn't a right, El, it's a privilege, and Agent Hughes can revoke it any time he feels like it." As could he, which he'd pointed out to Neal on many occasions. "But," he added at her growing fury, "He has agreed to at least wait until we can talk to Neal."

"I would hope so," she retorted, cheeks flushed. She started to take a bite of her fruit-infused yogurt but then placed the fork on her plate instead. "It's unfair of everyone to automatically assume the worst of him," she stated. Then she leaned forward, her eyes meeting his with intensity. "You've said he works harder than anyone you know. That's he's gone above and beyond to help you close cases." She lowered her voice. "He tries so hard to please you, Peter. What you think about him matters; You know that." They had discussed this topic before. Elizabeth was convinced Neal, without a family of his own, had for some reason picked him, the agent who arrested him, as some kind of surrogate father. He'd sent cards, little drawings, and gifts during the years he'd been incarcerated. Though Peter had never responded to them in any way, they had continued up until, he now knew, Neal had begun his plan to escape and find Kate.

Elizabeth straightened but held his gaze. "Without any evidence to the contrary, I think you should have a little faith in him."

No mom or dad. No girlfriend or friend. Just Agent Burke. He was as close to family as Neal had. If he wasn't willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, who would?