10 - Burke's Seven
Neal heard the door open behind him, but didn't bother to turn around. In front of him, Mozzie lay on the hospital bed, unmoving, with far too many wires and machines surrounding him.
"You should be resting".
He didn't avert his gaze.
"Does it look like I'm doing fucking cartwheels?"
There was a pause, a sigh, and then the squeak of shoes on linoleum as Peter walked closer.
"Pain makes you mean, Neal. You should still be in bed".
"I'm fine".
"You came out of surgery less than two days ago!"
He blatantly ignored the throbbing in his side and wisely kept his mouth shut. He didn't remember much after leaving the Russian Heritage Museum, not since Diana had slapped cuffs on him and led him away from Fowler. He'd woken up in hospital with the mother of all headaches and half a dozen monitors attached to him, and yeah, maybe he was a little bitter about Peter not being there, but Alex had been there instead, and somewhere in between her asking about the music box and giving him her number, she let him know that Mozzie had been shot.
"You're more stitches than man at the moment" Peter continued quietly, "And the last thing Mozzie needs is to wake up with you bleeding out on the floor".
Damage control laparotomy, grade II lesion classification, angiographic embolization.
Neal didn't understand what the doctor's had said, nor did he particularly care. The only thing he knew for certain, was that he now had a nine inch scar curving across his chest and those stitches fucking itched.
"He's in a medically induced coma. There's nothing you can do for him here".
"Yeah, well, it's not as if I can do anything for him out there either!" Neal snapped, before immediately wincing and placing a hand to his side. The doctors had taken him off the good stuff only an hour ago, and now his entire body ached.
There was another sigh before Peter pulled up a chair next to him and held out a file.
"Our suspect. His name is Julian Larssen".
Neal blinked, surprised, before slowly reaching out to take it. A stranger stared back at him.
"This is who shot Moz?"
"We think so. And, according to Fowler, he's the right hand behind whoever's manipulating you. Kate, the music box, everything".
"Where is he now?"
"He's gone to ground. If he's smart, he'll leave town, and we need to make sure that doesn't happen. Hughes and I think we should burn his aliases, force him to make a new one" Peter explained, "Preferably, one that we can pick".
Neal slid the photo of the shooter out from underneath it's paperclip, and flipped the file shut.
"You want me to talk to the forger community?"
He could feel Peter's gaze burning into the side of his head.
"Can you?"
"For Mozzie? Of course".
"Neal… I know you want to help, and I'll be glad if you can" He started carefully, "But you're just as injured as Mozzie is right now. You shouldn't even be out of bed yet, and you're sure as hell not leaving this hospital for another week at least! I don't… I don't want you to forget that. Mozzie wouldn't want you to forget that. You need to take care of yourself as well".
Neal finally allowed himself to face the man. He was still a little pissed off with Peter, or, well, a lot pissed off, as the case may be. Between Fowler, Mozzie, and now Larssen… there were a lot of questions piling up that he didn't have the answers to. He knew Peter cared about him, and he knew that the FBI agent was only doing what he thought was right… but sometimes, that just wasn't enough.
"I won't do any of the leg work" He said, lying through his teeth, "I've still got a few contacts in the city that owe me favours… I'll ask one of them to set up a meet with all the forgers I know and they can explain the situation".
Peter's eyes searched his, looking for any trace of deceit because the older man had known him long enough by now to realise it was never that easy.
"You won't sign out of the hospital?"
"No. I swear".
He wouldn't, technically, have to sign out to just temporarily leave, after all.
"... Okay" Peter finally agreed, "But be sure that you can trust… whoever this person is. I'll get Diana to text you a copy of the details later on. Call me when your forgerer gets back to you, alright?"
He nodded wordlessly, and with a small smile and a reassuring pat on the shoulder, he was gone.
Neal turned back to Mozzie and considered the best way to do this. He didn't like lying to Peter, although he tried to play off the dull ache in his stomach as a side effect of life-altering surgery rather than guilt. And he really shouldn't be up and about either, his doctors had been quite clear on that…
But this was Mozzie he was talking about.
And he owed his friend everything.
Pulling out his phone, he quickly texted June to ask her to bring a suit over, and then hit the speed dial for Alex. He wasn't, technically, lying to Peter about not doing the heavy lifting this time. It wasn't him that was going to hand out the cards, after all.
"Alright, I think that's everyone" Neal announced, stepping down into the large circular room, "Thank you all for coming".
It had been surprisingly easy to disappear from the hospital an hour ago, and after slipping the bellboy a few dollars when he arrived at the hotel, he'd been able to change into his Devore in the back room too. Appearances went a long way, after all, and if everything went to plan, then no one would ever realise he'd even left the hosptial to begin with.
"What's this about, Caffrey?"
He pulled out the photo of Larssen from his suit pocket and tried to hide his wince.
"The man in this photo is going to come to you looking for a new identity. When he does, I want you to make him the best I.D. that you can".
"What's the angle?"
He forced a smirk.
"I'm gonna tell you what name to give him. Justin Springer".
"Come on, Caffrey. It's bad for business".
Most of the forgers in the room nodded in agreement.
"It's not for me" Neal called after him, feeling clammy and cold and far too shaky to remain standing for much longer, "It's for Mozzie".
The girl he'd handed the photo to gave him a look.
"Is this the guy who...?"
Was the reason his best and oldest friend was currently lying in a medically induced coma in hospital?
"Yeah".
She slowly nodded, "And the reason for your… little stunt, as well?"
"And which stunt would that be?"
She rolled her eyes at him.
"The Russian Heritage Museum, Caffrey. That stunt".
"Hmm… No, sorry, doesn't ring a bell".
"Smashing through a window?"
"Nope".
"Attempted murder?"
"Of course not".
"So you know absolutely nothing about being rushed to A&E for emergency surgery two days ago because your liver and kidney were lacerated?"
Neal hummed, "... No. Can't say I do".
She handed him back the photo.
"And if I asked you to lift your shirt up right now?"
He grinned, as charming and suave as possible while frantically trying not to fall over.
"I'd ask you to at least buy me dinner first".
She snorted, as did half of the room, before sighing and shaking her head.
"You always were a crazy son of bitch, Caffrey. Get your ass back to hospital, alright? We'll sort out this Justin Springer guy".
Neal may or may not have ended up checking himself out of hospital earlier than Peter wanted, if the man's glaring was anything to go by. On the other hand, Peter had just been suspended from the FBI and Larssen was going to walk free so…
Desperate times, and all that.
He also may have ever so slightly lied about his recovery rate as they walked side by side down to the docks, but again, that was merely due to... extenuating circumstances. If he hadn't aggravated his surgical wounds by meeting the forgers, then he would be more or less good to go right now, but since Peter still didn't know about the former, Neal thought it was okay to simply… make-up the latter.
As it were, his doctors were furious with him too, his striped linen shirt chafed painfully against the bandages he'd slapped over his stitches in the hospital, and he was beginning to seriously regret not filling up that pain meds prescription before he hightailed it out of there.
"Hi, Sara".
"Hi, Peter" She greeted, smiling, "Neal. It's been a while. Nice to see you fully clothed. Love the hat".
Peter gave him a disbelieving look, and Neal decided to let his imagination fill in the gaps rather than admit that the redhead had seen him shirtless because she'd visited him in hospital just after his surgery, and not because of any other... fun related activites.
"So... You're a member?"
"My company insures a number of yachts here" She explained.
"Thanks for the assist… That's our guy".
They all turned as a tall man stepped out onto the deck of a yacht.
"Prince Bilal".
"A prince, huh?"
Neal smirked, "I've been a prince".
"When was that?"
"Yeah, when was that?" Peter added, in full-on bad dog Neal mode.
"You want me to talk to him?" He asked in response.
"Why you?"
"'Cause of your... situation?" He muttered, but still loud enough for Sara to overhear.
"What's wrong?"
"You make it sound like I'm dying" Peter scolded, "Things are complicated at the FBI. But I don't need a badge to do good detective work".
"Alright, then what's your in?"
They watched as the man disappeared into the bar.
"He likes horses. Keep an eye on his boat".
Neal smirked as Peter walked away, before stepping closer to Sara, grimacing as the movement pulled at his stitches.
"He's like superman without his powers".
"Oh yeah? Well last I heard, it was you who was the one smashing through windows".
He groaned, "Must we talk about this now?"
"I can save it for later if you prefer. But shouldn't you still be in hospital?"
Yes.
"No. I'm fine. Mozzie is awake, we're closing in on Larssen, and I'm needed out here".
Sara hummed noncommitingly and glanced him over once before turning back to the bar.
"Well, Clark Kent seems to be doing pretty well for himself. What now, boy wonder?"
"You're mixing your superheroes".
"Oh, god. And you're working guard duty".
"'Keep an eye on something' is code between me and Peter, okay?" He shot back, "It means do some digging, see what I can find".
She grinned, "Does Peter know that's what it means?"
"Larssen?" Bilal asked, stepping into the marble room. Neal smirked and turned around, far more quickly than he would have liked.
"Not quite. Guess you were expecting someone else".
"Shoot this man" He ordered his goons, and the conman felt a brief flash of fear. He knew he could duck and run if he had to, but not without causing some serious damage to his already pretty fucking sore injury. Luckily, he didn't have to.
"Hey again" Diana smirked, her own weapon drawn and loaded, "Over there. Go!"
Peter also grinned as he appeared, satisfied at the look of shock on the Prince's face when he realised who he was.
"Told you you shouldn't bet the chalk".
Walking over to the large crate, he held up the crowbar.
"Let's see what's so important to Larssen's boss".
Neal strode around the statue to join him, but every step pulled at his side, and when Peter asked him to help lift the lid off the crate, he couldn't hold back a wince.
One that his handler, of course, picked up on.
"You alright?"
"Fine" He said quickly, reaching into the crate to distract him.
"Dinnerware?"
"It looks like China" Neal replied, brushing the hay off of a ceramic plate, "From the '30s or '40s. This looks like the contents of someone's house".
"What's so valuable about this stuff?" Diana asked Bilal, but the man shook his head, "I don't know. I never look in the crates".
Flipping over the plate, Neal tried desperately to focus on the symbol in front of him as his vision suddenly blurred. Swallowing thickly, he finally realised what he was staring at.
Holding up the Nazi symbol, he gave Peter a look.
"Definitely the '40s".
"Can we get a little farther away?" Neal asked, holding up the binoculars to watch Larssen be arrested, "My nose isn't bleeding yet".
"We're close enough" Peter replied dryly, grabbing them from them.
Neal turned his head as Sara joined them, careful not to twist his actual body. There was a dull throbbing in his side that was steadily beginning to increase, and as much as he wanted to see Mozzie's shooter be put behind bars, he also wanted to not pass out in front of the cute redhead.
"How's it going?"
"We're about to find out" Diana replied.
"There it is" Peter announced, passing back the binoculars.
"Now there's a sight" Neal grinned, watching as Larssen was led out in cuffs. A split second later, he realised maybe not. There was a smug smirk on the man's face that Neal didn't like the look of, and a split second later, his unease was justified as the bastard slipped the handcuffs, punched Roe in the face, and ran.
"No. No, no, no. He's got Roe's gun".
And Neal couldn't run right now, he couldn't, he knew he couldn't so he needed- they needed- he needed a- a-
"Where's the car?!"
"Two blocks in the wrong direction" Diana answered which-
Fuck. Okay. He'd have to run. He'd have to run and then die and then wait fifty years for Mozzie to join him in the afterlife so he could apologise and-
"Officer, I need to borrow your horse".
"FBI. We're in pursuit of a fugitive".
"Go get him, boss".
Neal watched in disbelief as Peter leaped up on the horse, grabbed the reins, and took off.
"Would you look at that?"
"Come on, we'll try to cut him off" Diana said, grabbing his arm.
"We'll- Uh, actually, I think I should-"
"Caffrey!" She snapped, yanking him forward, "Come on!"
Sorry, Moz.
"You got him" Diana grinned, as they finally came to a stop on the other side of the park.
Neal couldn't help but smile as well, even as his chest heaved and the pain in his side became blinding. He was beyond grateful that he'd taken off his leather jacket the hour before, because he was one-hundred-percent certain that the extra weight would have flattened him.
He was also grateful that he'd chosen to wear a dark coloured shirt because the dampness in his side was… more than a bit not good.
"Nice riding, Butch".
Peter smirked.
"Thanks, Sundance".
Handing over the horse, he shook out his hand.
"Larssen's got a hard face".
"Oh, it felt good, though, didn't it?" Diana teased, and the man reluctantly nodded, "Hell yes, it did".
"Before you get your badge back, there is a seven-man con that I have been meaning to-"
"No" Peter interrupted, "The Burke Seven is hereby disbanded".
"We made a good team".
Neal very forcefully ignored the sudden wave of nausea that came over him.
"Oh, come on. Admit it… You enjoyed yourself".
"A good con never admits to anything" Peter shot back, following Diana, "You taught me that".
Neal forced a grin and lingered behind,turning subtly so that neither of them would see the ever widening stain on his shirt.
"I'm gonna call Moz, give him the good news".
Right after he called an ambulance…
"You colossal fucking idiot".
Neal groaned and slowly opened his eyes.
"Pain makes you mean, Peter".
The man slowly swam into view, hovering above him, furious.
"Oh I'll show you pain once you're out of this damn bed again!"
Neal smirked, and slowly, stiffly sat up. Around him, familiar machines and monitors beeped reassuringly.
"What happened?"
"What happened, you moron, is that you collapsed at the park. Diana and I rushed back to you, called for emergency services, and you had to go into surgery. Again. Why didn't you tell me?!"
"I didn't-"
"If you finish that sentence with I didn't know, I'm going to stab you myself" Peter growled, "Your phone was on the ground next to you, Neal, and you already had 911 dialed in. You knew full well what had happened".
"... I didn't know it was bad enough to need surgery" He said quietly, "I just thought the stitches had torn, that's all".
"Oh, no, don't worry, they did. And not just the external ones, either, hence the need for fucking surgery!"
Neal avoided his gaze, and after a moment, Peter sighed and dragged up a chair next to his bed.
"... You promised me that you were okay".
"Well, no, actually, I promised that I wasn't going to do any leg work, and then I didn't, and then I signed out, and then…"
"Then you ran to cut off Larssen" He finished, a wry look on his face, "I don't know if you realise this, Neal, but running counts as leg work".
"I didn't want to! Diana made me!"
"Diana thought you were able to!" He snapped, "You were out of hospital, you were walking about, and you were as snarky as ever!"
"Uh, I am not snarky-"
"Neal".
He sighed and looked away.
"He shot Mozzie. And then he went after you. What was I supposed to do, Peter? Just stay here, in bed, useless?"
"I'd rather you be useless and alive than dead because of your own stupidity!"
"My stupidity caught us a killer! Kate's killer!"
Peter stared at him for a moment before taking a deep calming breath.
"... You need to take better care of yourself, kid. The ends don't always justify the means, no matter who those means are for".
Squeezing his hand once, Peter got to his feet.
"Rest up, alright? El and Mozzie will be by later… I got the impression that the little guy had something big to tell you".
