8 - Company Man

"Hey" Neal said, tapping Mozzie on the arm, "Alright, let's make this quick. I need to get back to the office".

"First week, you're already a corporate shill?" He countered, "My condolences on your departed integrity".

They started walking.

"How did it go with Diana?"

"I saw some sheet music in her briefcase".

"Maybe she's learning the violin".

Mozzie came to a stop.

"It was Mozart's Piano Sonata No.2 in F from 1775".

"The year the music box was made" Neal realised.

"Need I go on?"

"I'm sure you will".

"I wil" He agreed, "There's no historical record of what song it's playing. The only way she would know it's Mozart is if she's heard it".

Which meant… No.

Neal shook his head.

"Peter trusts Diana and I trust him".

And he wouldn't lie to him… right?

"Could be something, could be nothing" Mozzie said, taking off his sunglasses, "I just thought you should know".

Holding up the shades, he used their mirrored glass to show the girl in the blue dress hovering a few meters behind them.

"Also, you got a tail".

"Yea, I noticed a couple blocks back" Neal replied, glancing over at her.

She immediately spun around and started heading back the way they'd come.

"Listen, I'll worry about my shadow. In the meantime, stay close to Diana".

"Why don't I have coffee with Hughes while I'm at it?" He countered.

"You're a hero, Mozz".


Separating, they went in opposite directions, Mozzie off to do whatever it was he did and Neal to track down the woman following him. He watched as she ducked into a construction sight, close enough to the road to yell for help, but far enough away that no one would see them.

Smart girl.

"Jessica" He greeted.

A gun stabbed into his chest.

"Who do you work for? With Kent?"

He immediately held up both hands, eyes trained on the weapon.

"No, no, I'm with the FBI" He replied quickly, "I was sent to find out if you murdered Hayes".

"I didn't murder Joseph".

She lowered the gun an inch, the steel glinting off the sunlight as it trembled in her hold.

"Then who did?"

Jessica lowered the gun even further, hands still shaking and finger on the trigger and Neal realised that if there was anything he hated more than guns, it was guns in inexperienced hands.

"That's what I wanna find out".


*BANG*


Peter frowned as his phone rang and an unfamiliar name flashed up on screen. After a moment, he remembered it was the number they assigned to an alias in case his team needed to contact him while in Kent's building. Miss Samuels was in the process of bringing up the employees files, and he mentally swore.

The timing was less than perfect, but if his team was ringing him at 'work' then it had to be something serious.

He hit the accept call button and raised the phone to his ear.

"Hey, hon'".

There was a beat of silence.

"... Is Kent with you?"

Diana.

"Almost" He answered, giving Miss Samuels an apologetic smile.

She merely smiled back, obviously ordered to keep him as happy as possible.

"His assistant?"

"Yep".

"Alright, I'll keep this quick. We need you back at the office".

His grip tightened around the mobile.

"Has something happened?"

"You could say that" Diana replied wryly, "It's Neal".

Peter sighed, "When is it ever not him? Alright, what's he done this time?"

"It's not what he's doing, rather what he's refusing to do".

Miss Samuels was sneaking surreptitious glances in his direction, very likely trying to memorise this conversation to tell her boss later on. He had to phrase this carefully.

"What do you mean?"

"Neal's been shot".

"What?!"

Miss Samuels jumped as he leapt to his feet.

"Sorry, I should have started with Neal's fine. But he's been shot. It's just a bad graze, but he's refusing to let the paramedic do her job".

"Oh, for- I'll be right there, hang on".

"What about Kent?"

Peter closed his eyes.

Kent. Right. The bastard he was here to arrest. And he couldn't arrest him if he didn't go through these books and if he left for the office then he wouldn't be able to go through them today… But was his job really more important than Neal's safety?

"I'm on my way" He repeated, "Don't worry about it".


Hanging up, he stared at his phone for a minute, head spinning.

Neal had been shot.

Grazed, his mind helpfully corrected.

Neal had been grazed.

"Is everything alright?"

He startled and looked up only to find Miss Samuels staring back at him.

Right.

Yes.

The job.

Fuck.

"There's been…" He floundered for an excuse, "An accident".

The best lies were always 95% truth, right?

"Oh no" She said, fake sympathy colouring her voice, "Was that your wife?"

"Yes. I mean, no!"

Shit.

"I mean, yes, sorry, that was- that was my wife, on the phone, just now, but she wasn't the one in the accident".

Smooth, Peter.

"Oh" Her brow furrowed, "I heard you mention a 'he', was it your… son?"

He bit back a laugh at the face he knew Neal would pull if he heard someone call him Peter's son. The ex-con was as close to being Satchmo's pup as he was to being his own.

Which actually gave him an idea…

"No, no, not my- not my son. It's our dog, actually. He's been hit by a car, and my wife has taken him to the vet but he keeps snapping and trying to bite him. My… dog never lets the vet treat him unless I'm there. He's… contrary like that".

"Oh, the poor thing".

This time, her sympathy was more realistic.

"Will I tell Mr Kent you have to leave?"

"Please" He rushed, grabbing his keys, "It should only be for an hour or two, and I'm afraid if I didn't go then I'd only be thinking about it and I wouldn't get much work done anyway".

"Of course" Miss Samuels replied, also standing, "Please, go right away, I'll inform Mr Kent".


Bursting through the glass doors of the FBI, he immediately saw that all the blinds of the conference room were pulled shut and Diana was pacing back and forth outside the shut door.

He immediately headed straight for her, taking the steps two at a time, and she gave a sigh of relief when she saw him.

"What happened? Where is he?"

"In there" She nodded at the wooden door, "Jones in with Jessica in the interrogation room".

"Jessica?" He asked, surprised, "What's she doing here?"

"She's the one who shot him".

Peter blinked.

"So our theory of her being Hayes' killer is… right, then?"

"Not quite" Diana said wryly, "Apparently, the gun went off by accident. A story that Neal is fully backing up, by the way".

"How the hell did she accidentally shoot him?!"

"She followed him when he left the building for lunch. He realised who she was, turned the tables, they started talking. Apparently, she thought he had killed Hayes, so she pulled the gun".

"And shot him? As- As what, revenge?"

"No, actually. Neal told her he was FBI, she agreed to come in and talk, but she was so scared that her hands were shaking and… well, she accidentally pulled the trigger".

"... You're joking".

"Nope" Diana smirked, "And now boy wonder in there is refusing treatment".

"Why?" He asked, beyond exasperated.

She raised a solitary eyebrow.

"Why do you think?"


Pushing open the door, Peter stepped into the conference room only to find a very agitated young woman and a scowling Neal standing with the table between them.

When he saw the intruder, his scowl faded and turned into a blinding grin.

"Peter! Hey! How are you?"

He blinked, and turned to the paramedic.

"Morphine" She bit out, "I didn't know just how strongly he would react to it".

In other words, his pet con was as high as a kite.

Turning back to him, Peter sighed.

No wonder Diana had called.

"Hey, Neal".

"What are you doing here? I thought you were all…" His hands made a few strange gestures, "... finance-y".

He wished he had a video camera.

"I am" Peter said instead, "But Diana rang me-"

"Diana's here?!"

"Yea, of course Diana's here, Neal, she works here".

"Oh… Yea, that makes sense".

"Right" He shook his head, "Well, Diana rang me and said that you're refusing to let this nice lady here stitch up your leg".

As if suddenly remembering the paramedic, Neal blinked in surprise and turned to her. After a moment of silently staring, he turned back to Peter and quickly waved at him to come over.


Seriously wishing that he had a video camera, Peter obeyed the weird request and made his way around the table. Once he got to the other side, he could see that the conman's shoes had been discarded elsewhere, and he was also missing one sock.

The sock that he was wearing was stained a deep red.

Swallowing thickly, he traced the dark line that was slowly spreading across the entire leg of his trousers, until he reached a short but wide rip in the fabric about four inches above the knee. On the other side of the tear, he could just about make out a fleshy wound cutting straight across Neal's thigh.


"Peter!" He hissed, catching his attention.

"What is it?"

He gestured for him to step even closer, and didn't stop until their heads were mere centimeters apart.

Neal gave a meaningful glance towards the paramedic before meeting his gaze urgently.

"I don't trust her".

"Why not?"

Leaning even closer, he lowered his voice.

"She keeps trying to get my pants off!"

He snorted, before quickly schooling his features as Neal gave him a hurt look.

"I'm not lying!"

"I know you're not" He reassured, "I believe you, Neal, trust me, I one-hundred-percent do believe you… Not sure why it's a problem, though".

"I don't even know her!" He exclaimed, genuinely distraught by the thought.

Peter seriously seriously wished that he had a video camera.

"Right, well, as… helpful… as it is, telling me your thoughts on one night stands, Neal, she's here to fix up your leg".

"What's wrong with my leg?"

"You were shot. Remember? Jessica got scared and accidently pulled the trigger. The bullet clipped your leg".

Neal frowned and looked down.

When he caught sight of all the blood, he paled drastically.

Peter leapt forward to catch him as he staggered, and lowered him carefully into the chair that the paramedic wheeled forwards.

"There we go, you're alright, you're okay".

"I was shot".

"I know, buddy".

"Peter, I was shot!"

"I know" He repeated, "And now we need to make you better again, okay?"

He quickly nodded.

Peter gave a sigh of relief before stepping to the side to let the paramedic actually do her job.

"Now this nice lady is going to fix your leg, alright? But to do that, you need to take off your trousers".

He started to agree, before suddenly turning somber.

"Peter?"

His voice was strangely serious.

"Yes, Neal?"

Sincere eyes looked up at him, matching the troubled expression on his face.

"Isn't there a rule about taking your pants off in the office?"

He immediately bit back a burst of laughter.

"Yes, Neal, there is" He said instead, forcing his voice to remain even, "But, you see, that rule doesn't apply when someone gets hurt".

"Oh" He replied, shoulders relaxing, "That's smart. Rules should always have a loophole".

"What? No! That's not- I didn't mean- You- You really shouldn't-"

"Agent Burke?" the paramedic interrupted.

"Yes?"

"Mr Caffrey's wound isn't life threatening, nor is it very serious, but blood loss is still a thing".

She was beyond irritated from Neal's dopey ramblings, and Peter didn't blame her for one moment.

"Yes, of course, sorry, here, let me get these damn trousers off".

Neal was no help at all, of course, but Peter's annoyance quickly faded as he remembered where they were.

This particular conference room had security cameras, after all.