Author's notes:
Hi! I hope you're doing well. As always, I want to thank you for all the comments, favs, follows. I really appreciate your support. :) ❤
Unfortunately I'm not sure when I'll post the next chapter. I hope to post it in four weeks (Sunday 09.05), but I can be late. If anything happens, I'll update author's notes and let you know.
The illustration for this chapter you can either find on my DoodleAddicts account (…/vincentthecat) or on the story Rooftops of New York that I post on Archive Of Our Own (VincentTheCat).
Chapter 17 "Sand Castles"
"For there is nothing hidden except to be made visible; nothing is secret except to come to light."
Mark 4:22 (NABRE)
The child's hands felt very cold. Neal looked terrible. His clothes were torn in at least five places, he was dirty, covered with dust almost from head to toe. He was shivering.
Letting go of his hand, Elle reached for the blanket and laid it on Neal's shoulders.
"Neal, sweetheart. Can you tell me what happened?" she asked, trying to see if his scraped knee looked worse than the day before. She breathed a sigh of relief, realizing it did not look serious. Only the bandage was damaged.
"They got him," Neal whispered.
Her eyes flicked to him. "Him? You mean your uncle?"
The child nodded, rubbing his eyes.
"Okay, Neal." Elle said, glancing towards the kitchen where the first aid kit was.
The injuries could wait. She did not want to leave the boy alone, not even for a second.
"Okay," she repeated, taking her phone. "I'm going to call Peter now. He'll tell us what to do."
/\_/\
='x'=
If the child somehow survived the experience, if they somehow managed to find him, Peter vowed to do everything he could to help Neal. He would still have to arrest him, there was no way around that, but that was not going to be the end. Neal was not going to be alone anymore. Peter was still not entirely certain how he would help the boy, but at the moment it did not matter.
First, he had to find Neal. And for that, he needed to talk to Elle. He had a gut feeling Neal might have told her something―
His phone rang and Peter was surprised to see that Elle was calling him. He immediately hit the answer button.
"Neal's here!" his wife announced. "I'm turning on the loud-speaker."
Peter nearly ran a red light.
/\_/\
='x'=
"Neal?!" Hearing the adult's muffled voice, Neal gulps.
Suddenly he remembers yesterday's words from Mister Morris that he doesn't like to mix his personal life with business. Coming here might be one of the dumbest ideas Neal has ever had.
He wants to get up, but the lady stops him. After actually giving him the phone, she starts examining his knee again. "It's alright, sweetheart. Neal's a bit hurt, Peter, but I don't think it's serious…"
"I'm not," Neal protests, staring blankly at the device in his hand. Smiling Mister Morris, one arm around equally smiling Elle, is staring at him from the screen. The contact is named hon. There is more personal information under the contact name. Like an e-mail for example. It starts with Peter Burke. Now, that is… Very sloppy, Neal thinks. And if someone steals Elle's phone, then what? Isn't Mister Morris worried that…
"…Neal?"
Neal flinches at the man's voice.
"I- I'm really sorry, sir!" somehow he manages to utter. "I should not have come here. I will get going." He stands up.
"What, where?" Elle asks. "Neal, no. There is no need to be going. Peter will help you. Both you and your uncle. Sit down, sweetie."
Neal drops back to the sofa. He does not understand.
"How?" His mumble is almost inaudible.
/\_/\
='x'=
Peter's heart clenched painfully in his chest. Neal was alive, he was well and he was at his home.
He once again made sure that the second call he made to the FBI was silenced, but the agents he left in front of his house could still listen in. Everything seemed to be in place. Harrison and Webster were alert, but knew better than to try to kick the door in to get to the child. Hopefully, they would remain just a precaution and Peter would be the one to make the approach and explain the situation to Neal.
"Hon?" he heard Elle's voice. "Say something, Neal's really worried and I'm not sure what's going―"
"I really should go," the boy mumbled again, and Peter stepped on the gas pedal.
"No need to go," he said. "Elle's right. You're in danger and I can help you." Just give me ten minutes.
/\_/\
='x'=
Help him? Neal frowns.
"You're skipping town too?" he asks.
"Yes," Mister Morris says, and Neal blushes. That was a stupid question on his part, he realizes. What should he say to sound smarter?
"Bastards," Neal sneers, trying to mimic Mister Keller's tone. "I was a good mile away from the mansion when I first heard the sirens. But it's experience, not luck, you know? They won't get me. I'm too smart for that," he pauses, suddenly realizing he might have gone too far in his story-telling. "Not that I knew anything about the cops, sir," he rushes to explain. "No. I had no idea."
"Okay," Mister Morris says. He does not sound convinced.
Neal clenches his fists. Oh, come on!
"It's obvious who ratted, sir! Travis!" Neal insists. "It must have been him. But you guys are gonna kick his―" he pauses abruptly. "Hey, Mister― sir. How did you get away?"
/\_/\
='x'=
Peter's mind went blank. He suddenly realized that staying as Peter Morris might have been a wrong choice after all. He could just about imagine the expression on Elle's face right now. It was the worst possible way she could find out about the horrible situation.
The few seconds he stayed silent seemed enough to jump Neal's mind to the next question. "Do you know what happened to Mist – my uncle?!" Neal asked hopefully. "You were together, right?"
Peter's hands clenched on the steering wheel.
"He hasn't contacted you?" he asked.
"No," Neal responded, confirming Peter's worst theory about Neumann.
He no longer had any doubts. Keller got kidnapped. And whoever kidnapped Keller must have also pursued the child. How could he make Neal aware of that fact without outright telling him he was with the FBI? How to make him aware that his best option was to wait for Morris? How to make him stay…
"I see," Peter paused, then deliberately continued. "He should have done that. We were running together, but then we split up."
/\_/\
='x'=
"Really!" Neal calls out. How nice of Mister Morris to tell him this! He was sure that the adult would just continue to make accusations. "It means the cops didn't get him!"
"Mhm," Mister Morris grunts.
Neal wrinkles his nose. But why didn't Mister Keller then contact him? He should have done that! "I don't understand," he mumbles.
"He said he had something to take care of. Any ideas what he meant?"
"He meant me," Neal says a bit distractedly. "But I've checked all my phones," he continues, then turns to Elle to give her the phone back. He pauses.
She is just staring at him with a pale face, completely ignoring the phone in his hand. But then, noting his gaze, she flinches and quickly picks up the offered phone.
Neal hesitates for a moment, then smiles encouragingly at her. "Mister Morris's great. You don't have to worry about anything," he says.
/\_/\
='x'=
Elle tried to answer the child, but she was just physically incapable of doing that. It was impossible, her mind kept insisting. The conversation she witnessed just could not be happening.
After a moment, Neal looked away. Dismayed, Elle watched him take out three black phones from his jacket pocket. He checked each of them with consternation.
"Nothing…" he sighed.
"Hm?" Peter asked, or rather Mister Morris. Morris as in Peter's alias.
Elle felt her incredulity turning to uncontrollable anger, fueled by her fear. She tried to tell herself she was reading the situation wrong, but no matter how hard she tried to find another explanation… There was none.
Peter was lying. He lied to her yesterday, he was lying to her right now. He was lying to Neal.
She watched the child pluck at his lower lip, and then sigh. "I thought maybe I was wrong," he said disappointed. "But Mister Keller hasn't really contacted me, sir."
Elle inhaled sharply, feeling angry tears prick her eyes. She covered her mouth.
/\_/\
='x'=
Hearing Elle's sharp inhale, Neal immediately looks up. Elle is crying! She is crying.
Neal's heart pauses, and the next moment he wraps an awkward hug around her. The burn-phones hit the soft carpet as he slumps down on it.
"Don't cry mum―" His vision blurs. She is not― "Ma'm," he repeats, his hands refusing to let Elle go.
Elle sniffs, and gently returns the hug. Neal takes in a sharp breath.
He wants to comfort her. He can do it. It will be just like when he used to comfort his mum. Easier, really, because Elle is crying very quietly, not shaking at all and―
"Listen, the cops won't find us―You, I mean. You and Mister Morris, they won't find you…" He pauses, searching frantically for things to say. Then he remembers. Something his mum used to tell him when they had to move. "And travelling is fun. You like travelling, right? All these new places and possibilities, and cats and―" His voice breaks.
Suddenly he cannot be good anymore. Not for mum, not for anyone else. He lets Elle go and curls up on the floor. "I hate travelling," he sobs. "I hate it!"
"Sweetie," the stranger's touch on Neal's shoulder makes him flinch away. He jumps to his feet.
"Don't―" he pauses.
Elle looks at him with wide eyes. Satchmo barks.
"Sorry," Neal mumbles, but he does not really mean it. His heart is beating wildly in his chest. Frantic, he looks around the living room. What is he still doing here? Neither Mister Keller nor his mum are coming back. There is no point in waiting.
Scrubbing his eyes angrily, Neal turns, then jumps up as Elle's hand grips his own again.
"Sweetie, don't―Sweetie don't go," Elle says while Satch rests his front paws on Neal's stomach, trying unsuccessfully to reach his face. He is whining. Neal does not care.
"Mister Keller left me!" he cries.
"I know sweetie. I know," Elle says. "But I didn't. I'll take care of you, it's okay―"
Neal tries to break free, break the embrace. "Mister Morris won't let you!"
He has to get out of here. He has to go. He has to run. Run as fast as he can. The cops. There are cops out there.
"But he will, he just―"
Suddenly the door bursts open. "FBI, freeze!"
/\_/\
='x'=
Elle did not think. She just reacted. Letting Neal go, she stepped in the line of the two agents who burst through the door.
"Don't shoot, he's just a child!" she cried in panic before she even realized that the two men were not even holding guns.
Satchmo's reaction was even more eloquent. Shocked, Elle watched the dog spring with a loud snarl at the two men. She had never seen him attack anyone and―
"Come on!" The child's hand tightened on her wrist, and the next moment she was running into the garden, being pulled by Neal.
"Sweetie, wait, it's okay―" They reached the fence and Neal jumped over it.
"Come on!"
Somehow, Elle managed to grab his hand again.
"Sweetie, it's okay, I know them, they are here to―" she paused abruptly. Satchmo's crazy barking was still coming from the house. "Dear God, Peter will arrest you," she realized aloud.
/\_/\
='x'=
This is not wise, Elle will hold him back, he cannot―
"Dear God, Peter will arrest you." This statement causes a sudden halt to all of Neal's previous thoughts. He turns to look at Elle. "I didn't mean it, sweetie, I meant―" she pauses, squeezing his hand. "Neal, you have to trust me and stay. It's not safe and―" Elle gulps, there are tears in her eyes. "Neal, I didn't know, I just thought― I thought your uncle was one of Peter's agents, not― but sweetie, you can't run away. Trust me, please, I think Peter's afraid that something bad will happen to you if―"
Neal does not stay to hear the rest. He pulls his hand away from her grip and runs.
/\_/\
='x'=
Peter pressed the brake, jumped out of the car, ran through the gate and up the stairs.
He saw his two agents, trying to shout to Satch for obedience.
"Out of the house!" Peter barked, grabbing the nearest man by the arm and dragging him outside. They listened.
"Satchmo!" Peter shouted, running past the growling dog. For a moment Satch's growls grew louder, and Peter thought the dog was going to bite him. He did not.
In a split second, Peter ran down the stairs and then into the garden.
Elle was alone, staring ahead. No sign of Neal.
"Hon!" She noticed him only after he had touched her shoulder.
"I could not― he ran," she whispered, deathly pale.
"I know," Peter nodded urgently. "Can you show me in which direction?"
Elle blinked. "Peter, how could you―" she paused and shook herself. Then she pointed a little dully to the southwest, into their neighbors' garden. "T-that way. He jumped over both fences and then I lost sight of him," she said in a trembling voice.
"Thank you. Now. Webster will take you to the Bureau. You will be safe there. Okay?"
Instinctively she nodded, and Peter released her hand. He ran up the stairs, then slowed as he realized that Satch was following him. The confused dog was growling madly again. He probably thought they were to attack his agents. Peter stopped in the middle of the living-room.
"Satch!" The dog made two more jumps before stopping to look at Peter. "Come here!"
Wagging his tail in distress, the dog ran up to Peter. Still growling quietly under his breath, he locked his gaze with Peter's.
"Sit," Peter said, gesturing to the dog to stop and Satch obeyed him. "Good boy." He petted Satch's head, and the dog's growl turned into an agonized whimper. He got up and started running in circles. "Sit," Peter repeated.
Satch sat down.
"Good," Peter said again, partially noticing that there was no blood on Satch's snout. He did not bite anyone. Satch got up again. He howled.
Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw Elle running up the stairs. Seeing her, Satch ran up to her. "Sit," she said and when Satch sat down she met Peter's eyes. "Go, hon. We'll be fine."
Peter hesitated.
"Go," Elle repeated. "I know how to calm our dog."
"I'll leave you Webster. He'll take you and Satch to the Bureau."
"Okay," Elle nodded briskly. "Go find Neal."
"…Okay." As Peter slowly stood up, Satch immediately ran towards him. Elle called the dog back.
"Come on, come here boy!" She led Satch into the kitchen while Peter slowly made his way to the front door. The moment he closed it he heard Satch barking, but it was just one lost and confused sound that faded as soon as it appeared. They were fine.
"Sir, I'm sorry―" Harrison broke off, looking uncertain.
Peter turned to look at Webster. "My wife will calm the dog down. Soon she will call for you to come in. You will listen to her instructions, and once Satch accepts you, you will take them both to the Bureau. Can do?"
"Yes, sir!" Webster said crisply, red in the face.
Peter turned to look at Harrison. "I'll take right, you left. We can still intercept him."
Harrison nodded and they sprang forward.
/\_/\
='x'=
Elle has told Neal that Mister Morris is a fed. Not even a cop, but an actual fed. No! Even worse! He's a combination of a rat and a fed, a freaking undie!
Mister Keller's job was to keep the rats, the feds, and other grubs out!
Running blindly, Neal feels the tears streaming down his face.
And Satch! His wonderful best friend! Satch… He is a fed's dog!
Taking a sharp bend, Neal quickens his pace. He cannot get nabbed! He will not!
He has to run, he has to leave New York, he has no friends here anymore. Perhaps every adult he knows is a part of it. Perhaps not only Travis, but also Mil and Mister Keller are those who ratted! If Satch was in on it, maybe even Vincent was in on it or Claude The Original or―
Neal comes to an abrupt halt. Vincent!
He nearly forgot! Where is the cat?!
"Workshop," Neal mumbles under his breath in disbelief. Yes. Workshop. Yesterday he left his friend in the workshop and, and―
"Taxi!" Neal cries, running madly out into the street.
/\_/\
='x'=
Somehow during the ride, Neal managed to stop crying and calm down. His face is mostly dry and he has a plan in his head. He hands the taxi driver a hundy and does not wait for a change.
He is ready to skip the city. He will take Vincent with him. Just him.
Mister Keller has left him. Satch has never been there for him. Travis is a traitor and if Mil has not been nabbed yet, he will be soon. Neal will take only Vincent. Other cats only care for tuna, not for him.
But Vincent is cool. Vincent cares. He is going to stay just like he always does.
Quickly, Neal crosses the street. He sees that some of the residents must have left the front door open. Again. Rolling his eyes at their carelessness, Neal runs upstairs.
Adults are like that. It does not matter if they are the feds or the good ones, like Mister Keller or Mil. Neal will never be like any of them. He promises himself this over and over again.
He will always stay. He will stay for Vincent and they will run together and never look back!
"We don't need anyone," Neal mumbles under his breath as he stops at number 25.
He puts the key in, it does not want to turn. It is almost as if the door is open and unlocked, but Neal would have never left the door open, so why…
A beat.
It really is open, Neal realizes.
A beat.
His door was left open.
A beat.
By someone else, not Neal.
A beat.
Very slowly and cautiously, Neal steps back away from the door. Suddenly he does not want to go inside anymore. Perhaps he should just give up and come back later when the door is locked again and whoever opened it will not be inside―
"Don't move," someone says. Neal spins around.
The gun is aimed straight at him.
Frozen, Neal watches the stranger emerge from the shadows. The adult roughly takes hold of Neal's arm. The deadly weapon presses into his back.
"Go ahead," the man commands in a low voice. "I'm taking you on a trip."
Next (09.05): Bad Times