Everything Old is new Again

By Ldynwaitin

Chapter Nineteen

Saint Caffrey

Shoving the doors open, Sullivan stumbled into the parlor. "Lilith, what the fuck did you do to me?" he gasped. Holding his head, he shook it. "I got a headache the size of Yankee stadium. No one's every been able to out drink me like that."

"Aw, does it hurt bad?" Peter heard a woman say. Peter frowned when he heard kissing sounds. "Are you mad at me?"

"Nah, impressed," Sullivan said. "I finally met my match. Just never thought it would be from such a beautiful woman."

Lilith sadly smiled. Those were words she wished Neal would say to her. She lay her head back as Sullivan rained kisses on her neck. "My second husband showed me how to drink like that when we were in Paris. It was the only redeeming quality about him."

Sullivan jerked her into a tight embrace. "Once we sell Caffrey's painting, we'll have enough money to see Monaco together."

Lilith frowned, pulling out of his embrace she began walking to the studio. "He makes me so mad sometimes. But when I look at that handsome face, I find it hard to remember what I was mad at him for."

Anger flashed across Sullivan's eyes. "When we're in Monaco I'll make sure you forget all about him."

Lilith spun around, her laughter cut into him. "Oh, does he make you jealous?"

Sullivan slammed her against the door frame to the studio. "Jealous of what?" he growled. Peter rolled his eyes as he heard a zipper and more than kissing sounds.

"Get a room," he thought as the sounds continued.

Peter's legs were beginning to cramp. He glanced at his watch, he had been hidden behind the couch for over fifteen minutes.

"Oh, Rory," Lilith sighed. "You remind me of my sixth husband, his passion for me was just as strong."

Sullivan pushed away from her. "Stop talking about your fucking exes. I'm Rory Sullivan, you ain't never met a man like me."

"I love your fiery language. So barbaric." She looked into the studio, she saw the painting Neal was working on. "We are going to be making so much money from his work."

"Yes," Sullivan said. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her towards him. "And we'll be spending it for a very long time. I'll make sure of that." They slowly walked into the studio.

Peter now knew the name of one of Neal's kidnappers, Lilith. He waited until their voices became distant. Peeking around the couch he saw Sullivan with his arm wrapped around a woman with long black hair. They walked out of the studio and onto the patio. Moving into the hallway he hugged the walls. Searching and listening, he froze when he heard a man's voice. He could smell the night air. Peering around a corner he saw a large man standing at the end of a foyer. The front door was wide open, he was looking outside as he spoke into a walkie talkie.

With his back to him, Peter softly ran up the stairs two at a time. Reaching the top, he decided to go left. He quietly moved down the carpeted hallway. Passing by wooden doors he realized he had no idea how to tell which room had the barred windows. That was answered for him when he saw a certain a door.

"One of these doors are not like the others," Peter whispered.

This door had a dead bolt and hinges on the outside. Peter knowingly smiled, this room was made Neal-proof. Slowly he moved the dead bolt to the side. He then wiggled the doorknob. He found that it was locked. Wiggling the knob again he whispered, "Neal, are you in there?"

He heard someone whisper from the other side of the door, "Peter, is that you?"

"Who else would it be?" Peter hissed. He glanced behind him, he held the gun up when he thought he heard a noise. "Get this door open before someone sees me."

He heard something being pushed in the lock. As soon as the door opened, Peter rushed inside the room and closed the door. Peter couldn't believe it, Neal was standing in front of him. He found him.

Neal happily grinned at Peter and said, "Peter, you found me."

"Of course I did, and that makes five," Peter proudly declared.

It was the same old argument. All Neal's fears were washed away with Peter's words. "It's four Peter. I went out of my radius on purpose to catch the dutchman."

"Potato, potahto," Peter said. He looked back. "Have to say this place is a real fortress. I got a lucky break getting in here, I found a patio door open."

"You're welcome," Neal said. When Lilith began closing the patio doors, he realized that if Peter was here, he needed a way in, that was why he asked her to keep one of the doors open.

"So that was you." Staring at Neal, Peter said, "Why do you look like Wolverine's cousin?"

Neal scratched his bearded chin. "It's not on purpose, they didn't allow me to have razors."

"I wonder why?" Peter said, as he eyed the door's lock.

"Peter, I knew you were here when I heard Mozzie's alias mentioned. I realized that he was running Mansel in distress."

Peter happily grinned, "The con was his idea to distract them and give me a chance to sneak in here, and it worked." Peter looked serious. "He's been really worried about you, Neal. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Mozzie's help."

"I'm glad you figured out that the pigments would help you find me." Neal knew that had to be the only way he found him.

"Yes, and you actually helped me. I remembered what you said about the girl with no eyebrows."

"Pearl earring," Neal corrected him.

"Her too, I never would have thought of using the pigments to trace you if it wasn't for Mozzie. He received an email from an 'anonymous' sender. The email was advertising that Le Peintre was going to resume selling paintings with a new painter. Apparently, you have a new alias, Le Maitre Peintre. Can I call you Le for short?" he said with a smirk. His smile faded when he saw how angry Neal was hearing the name. He couldn't imagine what happened to him since he was taken.

"I hate it," Neal said, his voice was deep with anger. "Peintre would have been furious that they used it that way." Slowly his anger began to wash away. Peter was here, his chances of getting away just skyrocketed. "When I saw the advertisement, that gave me the idea for the pigments. I was hoping that you or Mozzie would get one."

"I was looking at your Pearl earring girl with Kramer when it hit me."

"Wait a minute," Neal said. "Back up, Kramer came to New York?"

"He came the night you were taken. Apparently, you're still on the top of his most wanted list."

"Not a position I want to be."

"Anyway, I was talking to him about your painting. As I was looking at it, I remembered what you said about the pigments during the meeting. We found a store that sold pigments close by, Mozzie was able to get the store owner to talk to me. Benny was extremely helpful by the way. He gave us the PO box of where the pigments were being shipped. Benny also said that if you come back alive, he would give you a free sample of that laps lazi."

"Lapus Lazuli," Neal corrected him. "And I'll believe it when I see it. Benny is so stingy he'd overcharge his own grandmother."

Peter continued, "Mozzie and I arrived in St Louis yesterday. We stayed overnight in Willow groves. In the morning we waited to see who would pick up the pigment. We followed a man with a cane that led us to this place."

"That would be Albert, he's Peintre's son. His daughter Lilith is here too, be grateful you didn't meet her."

"Didn't actually meet her, but I heard her, she was with Sullivan. I was hiding in the room next to the studio when they came in. I would have been here sooner, but they were, uh, they, let's just say the sounds I heard are forever burned in my mind." Peter made a sour face.

Neal didn't have to imagine what Peter heard. "It didn't take her long. That's how she control's her men. Sullivan is now her current lover and future ex-husband.

Peter, everything that happened, my kidnapping, the robberies was well planned. They couldn't have done it without Sullivan's help." He picked up the folder and showed it to Peter.

Opening it, Peter was shocked to see a photo of Elizabeth and him. Under the photo was personal information. Personal facts that Sullivan must have investigated. He also saw photos of June, Mozzie, Diana, and Jones. Looking up he said, "Neal, this is why you stayed here?"

"They threatened all of you, Peter. I couldn't let anything happen to you, or El."

Peter saw a look of remorse on Neal's face. Once again, the people close to him was threatened because of him. Being one of those people, he tried to bring up his spirits.

Peter let out a heavy sigh. "Neal, there is something I have to tell you. I never realized this before, but you are a saint."

"Really?" Neal was confused. "Well, I couldn't let them hurt…"

"No, not that." Wickedly smiling he said, "I don't know how you're able to put up with Mozz. All night long in the hotel room it's this theory and that quote. In the car he wouldn't stop talking. I just wanted to…" Peter feigned choking an invisible Mozzie.

Neal gave an all-knowing nod. Peter was trying to let him know that he didn't blame him for what could have happened. Taking the bait he said, "Peter, Mozzie is like cilantro. You either love him or hate him, there's no in-between. But once you acquire his taste, he's worth it."

Peter smiled with relief. He found him, alive! "It's good to see you, Neal."

"Good to see you too, Peter." He was so happy to see Peter, he hugged him, he felt Peter hug him back.

Stepping back, Peter kept his hand on his shoulder. "You had all of us worried about you."

"I was worried for me." Neal realized what Peter said. "Us who?"

"All of your friends, of course."

Neal tiredly sighed, "I'm glad they're all right."

Peter's happy look changed to one of concern. He noticed a purple bruising on Neal's face. He gently touched his cheek. "Neal, what happened?"

Neal couldn't hide the bruises on his face, but he would keep the knife wound and bruised ribs a secret for now. He didn't want him worrying about that. "Sullivan happened, this was his way of thanking me for getting him in trouble. He told me that his DNA was on the back of my hat. I'm glad I managed to throw it out of the tent."

When Peter hugged Neal, he felt him flinch and unconsciously touch his ribs. He knew that Neal was hurt a lot worse than what he was letting on to. He also knew Sullivan well enough that he did more to Neal than just give him a love tap on his face. He was furious. He was not just his handler, he was his friend.

If he were here when it happened, he really didn't know what he would have done to protect Neal. Just that it would have been equal to what Sullivan did to him. "I imagine he was pretty steamed about that." He looked at Neal's open window. "Mozzie is waiting for us on the other side of the wall. There's a lot of guards out there. Now that I'm here," he held his gun up. "What's the escape plan?"

"You're asking me?" Neal said. "You mean you came here with no escape plan?"

"Mozzie and I have been winging it so far. I figured once I got here, you'd have one. You mean you don't?"

Neal looked hurt. "Of course I do, it just would have been nice if you had one too, as a backup." He actually had several plans. For now, he would use what he felt was their best bet of getting out of here. He went to his bed and pulled back his bedspread. Sticking his hand inside a slit in the mattress he pulled out two objects that looked like cloth ropes. Neal looped them over his right shoulder.

"Let's go," Neal said. "We need to get to the fourth floor."

Peter suspiciously looked at Neal, "Why the fourth floor?"

Devilishly smiling, Neal said, "I hope you've gotten over your fear of heights."

"And if I haven't?" Peter asked, with a large gulp.

Neal patted him on the back. "Don't worry, Peter, it's a great plan. Better than yours."

"But I don't have one," Peter replied.

"See, I wasn't lying." Entering his bathroom, he turned on the shower and closed the door. Using his lock pick he locked it. Getting a confused look from Peter he said, "They'll think I'm in here. It should buy us some time." He then opened the door to his room a crack. Listening for a sign of someone in the hallway, he swiftly left his room with Peter right behind him. Closing the door, he pulled the dead bolt across and using the pick, locked the door.

He whispered, "Let's go, we need to go this way."

Neal led Peter to a staircase at the end of the hallway. Climbing up the stairs, Neal rushed down the hallway to another set of stairs. Reaching the top, he turned right. Quietly moving down the corridor he stopped at large double doors. He stood silently in front of the doors.

"What's wrong?" Peter whispered.

"This is Peintre's bedroom," Neal reverently said. Taking in a deep breath, he kneeled on one knee and began picking the lock to the door.

"I can't believe they let you keep your lock pick," Peter said.

"They didn't," Neal said, as he felt for the tumblers. "An old friend of Peintre gave it to me." As he worked on unlocking the door, he saw Peter reach into his pocket. He pulled something out, then swiftly shoved it back in his pocket.

"What was that?" Neal asked.

"Insurance," Peter cryptically said.

Getting the door unlocked, he ushered Peter into the room. Closing the door, he relocked it. Grabbing a chair in the room he jammed its back under both doorknobs.

Turing around, Peter saw a look of shock on Neal's face. "I can't believe they would have done that."

"Done what?" Peter asked him.

Looking around, Peter saw empty walls. On the patterned wallpaper was outlines of paintings that must have hung there for years.

"His room," Neal choked. The emotion was thick in his throat. "It was filled with his favorite paintings."

Something caught Neal's eye, he walked to the nightstand. There stood a photo. On it was a picture of Peintre, standing next to him was a face he had not seen in years. He couldn't believe it, all these years he kept that photo. It was then that he realized just how much Peintre cared about him.