Thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story and sent me words of encouragement. Reviews really do motivate, so please keep them coming for just a little while longer. One more chapter will conclude Bonjour Encore. February marks the one year anniversary of my foray into fanfiction. I have enjoyed it very much, and that is because of those of you who have read and reviewed, followed and favorited my stories during that time. Many thanks to each one of you.
Chapter Twenty Six
When Neal returned from his adventures at the Waldorf late Monday afternoon, Peter had been a little surprised to see him; he'd thought there might be a chance he would remain with Elodie her last night in the city. He had chosen not to and looking at the strain of weariness and discomfort on his face; Peter could understand why.
After depositing Neal's bags in his room, Mozzie had made a hasty exit, turning down Elizabeth's invitation to join them for dinner. Shortly after his departure, Neal did the same thing, stating he had eaten an early dinner with Elodie at the hotel. Under the guise of putting away his things, he disappeared into his room. When Peter checked on him an hour later, he was already asleep. Fully clothes, he was sprawled across the bed; his bags of clothing where Mozzie had deposited them still unpacked.
The night passed without incident; neither Elizabeth or Peter heard a sound from him during the night. On Tuesday morning, he appeared well rested, confident that he had made peace with Elodie and that there would be no serious repercussions of her finding out about his past as Neal Caffrey. At his second sit-down dinner with the Burke family, he insisted he'd be fine if everyone-he looked pointedly at Elizabeth-resumed their normal schedule on Wednesday.
Neal's health had been steadily improving with each passing day. There was a hint of tiredness in his eyes that indicated sleep was still less than perfect, but his strength had returned, and the paleness of his face become less distinct. He moved with ease, and other than the sling he still sported, bore no signs of his injury. He emerged from his room Thursday morning looking particularly well. Dressed casual but classy, hair purposefully unruly, he was Nathan Clay, Gallery Owner, ready for his nine o'clock meeting with Agent Elliot, Agent Singleton and the representative from the Attorney's General's office. Once again, he looked like he had stepped from the pages of some edgy magazine.
After a quick breakfast, Peter cleared the table, and Elizabeth packed Little Neal's backpack, and they all disembarked on their respective days. Neal had passed on breakfast, a first since he'd been their guest. Peter could tell Neal had something on his mind; the first of the trip passed in relative silence in spite of Peter's attempts at normal conversation.
Finally, Neal spoke. "Thank you."
Neal wasn't cleared to drive, and as far as Peter knew, Mozzie still had possession of the rental car, yet Peter doubted he was expressing his gratitude about the ride to the meeting. But he responded as if he were.
"Not a problem. I have to be there, too."
"I wasn't talking about the ride, Peter." Neal's clarified quietly, confirming Peter's hunch. "I mean for everything. For staying with me at the hospital, for listening to me the other night ramble on about my…my issues." Neal's look was quick. "And most of all, for letting me figure things out without telling me what you think I should do."
Peter almost asked when telling him what he thought he should do had ever worked, but he refrained.
"I told you before," Peter said, "you're the only one who knows where you need to be and what's going to make you happy. As for the rest of it, well, I'm your friend, and that's what friends do."
"I just want you to know I appreciate it," Neal looked questioningly at him. "You haven't even called me Neal."
Neal had been in his house for six days, and Peter was pretty sure he'd avoided calling him anything. "Really?" He lied, "I hadn't paid that much attention."
"I have been called Unk Nay a few times, though."
"Well, Unk Nay," Peter replied, "little Neal likes you."
"He's not going to like me if I'm the reason he's called Little Neal for the rest of his life." His tone was amused.
Peter chuckled. "I survived Petie, so he'll be fine." He glanced at his friend. "It builds character."
The blue eyes lit up. "Petie?"
Peter winced; that information should have never been disclosed. "Don't even-"
"Petie Burke," Neal repeated, unable to keep the grin off his face.
"Now it's Agent Burke, and I carry a weapon," Peter warned. "Keep that in mind."
"Relax, Petie," Neal teased. "How long do you think this meeting is going to take?"
"Shouldn't take long," Peter replied. "They'll just go over the terms and conditions of the agreement, confirm that everything was followed and fulfilled; we'll all sign and be out of there. Half an hour tops. Why?" He asked. "Got big plans?"
"It's been nice, you know, staying with you guys." It wasn't an answer. "I appreciate everything you've done to make me feel welcome."
"You are welcome, and it's been nice for us too," Peter glanced at Neal, guessing by the subject change what his plans for the day entailed. "You thinking of checking out of the Burke Hotel?" He asked.
"Well, the week is almost up," Neal reminded him, "and I'm feeling better. I think I've disrupted the Burke household long enough."
"We have a two-year-old," Peter declared, "our household is always disrupted. But I can understand you needing your own space; especially If you plan to work from home. Have you got somewhere in mind?"
"Actually, I do," Neal responded. "I was thinking about asking June if she still has a vacancy." There was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "Thought the old place might be kind of nice to see again."
That Neal would want a place of his own for the next several weeks didn't surprise Peter but that he'd consider a return to June's did. He'd said that being in the city made him feel like Neal Caffrey, something that haunted his dreams. Being in his old apartment was bound to intensify that feeling, and yet that was where he wanted to go. Peter wasn't sure what to make of that. Perhaps it was a case of the hair of the dog. If he could learn to sleep in the apartment, any where else in New York should prove no problem.
"I'm sure June would like that," Peter said. "Does she know you're in town?"
"Not yet, but I'll call her later," Neal answered. "If she is willing to lease me the apartment, could you take me over there? Mozzie's tied up until the weekend."
Peter didn't ask, nor did he want to know, what Mozzie was tied up with. The little guy had been extremely busy and had declined two separate dinner invitations from Elizabeth.
"Be glad to," Peter replied. "I'd like to see June myself. It's been awhile." He didn't get into the circumstances of their last meeting. "She owns a Nathan Clay original, doesn't she?"
"Yes she does," Neal smiled.
"I wouldn't mind seeing one of those, either. Not to pry," He was prying; he couldn't help himself, "but a lease seems to indicate more than a five-week stay. Anything you want to tell me?"
"Just that Mozzie and I were talking investment strategy," Neal seemed pleased, "and he likes the idea of a Nathan Clay Gallery here in New York."
"So does Elizabeth," Peter added. So did he. "She's only mentioned it a half dozen times since you've been here." Peter paused, daring to hope. "A Nathan Clay Gallery would mean that Nathan Clay would need to be in New York, at least part time, wouldn't it?"
"It would indeed," Neal agreed with a smile. "Elodie runs the Paris gallery, and I could find an American counterpart to manage the one here."
"Is that the Artsy take on the adage A Girl in every port?" Peter teased. That was all Elizabeth needed; a local Elodie Angevine. "So what will you do?"
"I'll split my time between the two," Neal rolled his eyes at Peter's raised eyebrows, "the two galleries, Peter, not the two managers. I like simple, remember? I'll spend my time where I'm most needed."
By having galleries in both Paris and New York, Neal could realistically choose either city as his primary residence. The next few weeks, Peter guessed, were likely to be a determining factor. If things went well, Neal could decide the New York Gallery needed him most; if they didn't, Peter felt sure that Paris would require the bulk of his time. With a lease agreement in each city, Neal could travel out and back as it suited him. He had to make no concrete decisions.
Having arrived at their destination, Peter pulled into a front row parking place marked Visitor. Turning off the car, he looked at Neal.
"That certainly keeps your options open and with your new-found millions, I guess you can afford a place in both cities."
"I can," Neal replied. "And you know I like to keep my options open."
"I do know that. But I'm curious," Peter ventured, "Why stay at June's?"
The hesitation was slight. "Because it's the only place that's ever felt like home," Neal met his eyes and held his gaze steadily, "and I want to know if it can feel like that again."
The words surprised Peter; not by their content as much as the way in which they were spoken. Without shame, embarrassment, or fear of any perceived weakness the admission might indicate. That was what it was all about; whether or not Neal could find again what he regretted leaving behind. His friends, family, his sense of purpose and belonging. It was another of what Peter was beginning to think of as a Nathan Clay Moment; a moment of such complete, unabashed honesty that it left him stunned.
It took Peter a moment to find words. "I hope it can." If it did, Neal would stay.
After a moment of awkwardness, Neal dropped his gaze. "Time will tell." Neal pulled the sling off his injured arm and tossed it on the seat. "And time tells me it's time for us to get to the meeting."
Peter looked questioningly at the discarded sling as Neal flipped down the visor and checked his appearance in the mirror. "Sure that's a good idea?"
Neal ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it appropriately. Satisfied, he flipped the visor back up. "I'm sure Mr. GQ isn't showing up for any meeting wearing a sling." He grinned at Peter, "Remember, in my business image is everything."
WCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWC
Nathan Clay looked much better than he had the last time Elliot had seen him, in fact, had he not been there when it happened, he would have never guessed the man had been shot the week before. His posture relaxed, his demeanor reserved and confident, there was no indication of injury in either his movement nor expression. Clay appeared the same as he had the first time Elliot had met him; as a young, stylishly clad Gallery Owner from Paris. At that meeting, Elliot hadn't thought he could possibly deliver what he was promising. But he had been mistaken; Clay had delivered all that and more. Thanks to his work, Elliot was in the midst of the biggest case of his life, possibly a career maker. Over the past two weeks, Elliot had learned there was much more to Nathan Clay than his devil-may-care appearance and his sense of style. He was cool under pressure, thought fast on his feet and was loyal beyond compare. Elliot had first misjudged him; now he respected him.
The greetings were brief and the meeting straightforward. The attorney asked a series of questions to verify that the terms and conditions of the agreement had been met by all parties. Once it was established that all had executed their respective roles accordingly, they each signed the closing document, officially concluding the business between Nathan Clay and the Federal Government.
When the meeting ended, Nathan Clay stood and extended his hand. Elliot watched his face for any sign of discomfort as he shook hands with each one of them. There was none. His grip was firm and steady. The agents left the office, Singleton rushed to another briefing, leaving Elliot, Clay and Burke.
"You know," Agent Elliot said to Clay, "if you decide to stick around New York and would be interested in some consulting work, the DEA could use someone like you. Art turns up all the time in the drug business, and we could use your expertise." He studied the man closely. "Any chance you'd consider working with me again?"
The question clearly pleased him; his blue eyes sparkled with joy. "Working for the Federal government?" Clay cast an amused look in Burke's direction. "What an interesting idea."
Elliot knew the history between Clay and Burke and that working for the Federal Government was something, Clay, as Neal Caffrey, was not only familiar with but very good at. Burke had said he was the best he'd ever worked with, and Elliot believed him.
As Neal Caffrey, he'd started out a criminal, his crimes as much about the challenge they presented as the profit margins they provided. It was the excitement of the game more than the score that drove his exploits, and when Agent Burke ended his criminal career, he seemed to derive equal pleasure out of his work with the FBI. He was an adrenaline junkie; he craved excitement and the thrill of a challenge. Working as a CI at White Collar provided Caffrey a way to stay out of prison and do what he loved at the same time. What had Burke said? The more dangerous it is, the better he likes it? He loved it, was good at it and was an excellent asset.
As Nathan Clay, he had left that lifestyle behind until Burke had been kidnapped and taken to Venezuela. Clay had rescued his friend, without backup and on foreign soil, and now, four months later, had come to New York with a plan to bring down the organization behind his kidnapping. Burke's endangerment may have prompted Clay's return to the game, but he clearly enjoyed being back. Elliot wondered if he could return to his former thrill-free life after all the excitement the past few months had provided.
"It could be a case by case thing," Elliot added, recalling Clay's response when El Rey had made a similar offer, "and you'd be compensated for your assistance."
Not that Elliot thought financial reward would be necessary. Clay loved the game, and if given the opportunity, would likely play it again and again. Agent Burke knew this about his friend and knew his value as an asset more than anyone. Neal Caffrey on his team had produced remarkable results, and Nathan Clay could doubtlessly do the same. But by the glances that had passed between them at Elliot's offer, Burke had not yet made one.
It surprised Elliot in a way; he'd think Burke would have jumped on the opportunity. But he had picked up on an underlying tension between the men that likely stemmed from their previous working arrangement. The relationship between a handler and a CI differed greatly from the relationship between co-workers. The men probably had some issues to resolve before they could make that move. But until then, Elliot would love to have Clay play for his team, even if only part time.
"We could use a man like you," He reiterated. Clay did have an ego, after all.
Clay's amused look turned to a more reflective one. "I will think about it, Agent Elliot."
Elliot glanced at Agent Burke, who was looking at his friend with an odd expression. "I'm sure your skills could be useful at White Collar, too," He ventured, "Agent Burke at some point might want to make you a similar offer on their behalf."
Burke and Clay locked gazes. Elliot felt an unmistakable tension in the air. Apprehension? Anticipation? He wasn't sure which it was. Perhaps some mix of both.
"If I did make a similar offer," Burke began almost hesitantly, "Would you actually consider coming back to work at White Collar?"
"Nathan Clay has never worked at White Collar," Clay corrected."That was that other guy."
It was anticipation he was feeling in the air, Elliot decided, unable to keep a smile off his face. Fortunately the two men were so focused on each other, his expression of mirth went unnoticed.
"My mistake, Nathan," Burke replied wryly. "Sometimes I get the two of you confused." His tone grew serious. "So would you?" He asked, "Would you considering coming to work for me at White Collar?"
"For you? I don't know," Clay replied honestly. "But with you?" He paused, "Yeah, I think I'd consider it. Just one thing."
Burke couldn't keep a smile off his face. "Let me guess, no mortgage fraud, filing or paperwork?'' Elliot surmised these had been common complaints of Neal Caffrey.
"Those are a given, as well as no van time," Neal added. "But I want a good coffee station at the office, you know with one of those machines that make a variety of beverages. No more having to run out for a decent cappuccino."
"As long as it comes out of your expense account and not mine," Burke replied, "you can have whatever coffee maker you want."
Whatever issues the two men still needed to work out from their past, Elliot had no doubt that they would be able to do so. In fact, he doubted there was much the two of them couldn't accomplish once the put their minds to it. Burke and Caffrey had been the dynamic duo at White Collar. It seemed likely that Burke and Clay would reprise those roles sooner or later. That was of course, if Nathan Clay decided to stay in New York. By the grins on both men's faces, Elliot felt the chances of that were pretty good.