Chapter Three: Son
"Neal," Peter said breaking the silence between them.
"Hmm," Neal responded.
"Where did you go," Peter questioned.
"What…I'm right here," Neal answered. He knew damn well what Peter meant but decided to answer his question literally.
"Talk to me Neal," Peter begged.
Neal jumped up and walked over to the kitchen table where the remainder of the Pinot sat on the table. He emptied the bottle into his glass and took in a mouthful and swallowed.
"You know what I mean. Don't play stupid," Peter shot at him.
Neal moved his eyes to the side, staring at his apartment door that was still ajar. He then closed his eyes, taking in a full breath of air. "I can't…I won't tell you," Neal responded defiantly. He straightened up his back with the increase in testosterone and swallowed in two gulps the wine remaining in his glass.
Peter shook his head, not immediately having the words come to the forefront of his mind. "I saw you flinch. I know you thought I was going to hurt you," Peter stated.
With that, Neal took several steps backward, locking eyes on Peter. His wine consumption was becoming evident to the seasoned FBI Agent who was trying desperately to be the friend—not the FBI Agent—at that present moment. Neal continued to step backwards until he hit the wall. His startled facial expression disclosed his surprise at being as close to the wall as he actually was. Then, losing his balance, Neal allowed himself to slide down the wall into a seated position. "You're not gonna do this Pe..ter," Neal stammered.
"Talk to me. Whatever it is, we can resolve it together. I can help you. I'll protect you," Peter said, getting up to go to his young friend who was slumped over against the wall.
Peter's words and physical proximity to him caused Neal to pull back his head and smack it against the wall. It was louder than he had expected, but the physical pain felt good to him. He pulled his head forward in an attempt to smack it again against the wall, but Peter thrust his hands between Neal's head and the wall. Peter's physical contact pushed an obvious internal button in Neal as he buried his head in his arms that were resting on top of his knees. He began a slight back and forth movement in his upper body.
Peter reassured, "I can help you. I will protect you."
And that was all it took. Tears welled up in Neal's eyes. He forced his hands several times through his hair and over his face. Speaking slowly and softly through his hands, Neal said, "You don't understand…I can't do this….Please, I can't go there."
Peter sat quietly beside his friend, pulling him toward his chest and placing a protective arm over his shoulder. In a few moments, Neal muffled through Peter's shirt, "I feel like I'm gonna to be sick, Peter."
"Okay, let's get you to the bathroom," Peter answered, pulling Neal to his feet and guiding him to the toilet. Peter then lowered Neal down to the toilet. Crouched against the toilet, Neal hugged its side and vomited, heaving several times until silence once again enveloped the small apartment.
"You okay?" Peter asked.
Neal didn't respond, keeping his head level with the rim. Peter looked away.
After several minutes, Neal nodded his head and mumbled a garbled noise. Peter moved forward to help him get up off the floor. Scooping Neal up from underneath his arms and handing him a towel to wipe his mouth, Peter led Neal to the couch and sat beside him. "I know this is hard. I know you don't completely trust me, but we have to talk about this, Neal," Peter calmly and meticulously stated.
Leaning his head against the back of the couch, Neal exhaled deeply and nodded, "Okay…just give me a moment."
Peter continued to sit quietly beside him.
"It's not about trust, Peter," Neal said.
Peter's eyes revealed relief.
Neal's unwillingness to openly share wasn't about trust; it was about not being able to return to the place that had caused him so much pain in his past. He had moved on and simply didn't feel the need to face the ghosts of his past.
It seemed like hours but in reality only five minutes had ticked away. Only the sound of Neal's labored breathing could be heard in the apartment. Peter continued to sit beside him. He studied the young man like he had never truly seen him before. He recognized how beautiful his chiseled facial features truly were and smiled slightly to himself as he understood why people could be so easily sucked in to him. He recognized that he himself was one of those people.
"Hey," Peter broke the silence.
Neal turned toward Peter without lifting his head. His eyes acknowledged Peter's words.
"Let's go for a ride," Peter offered.
"Where to," Neal asked, finally speaking.
"Come on, I'll show you," Peter answered, handing Neal a jacket and waiting for him to put it on before heading to the door. "Is your stomach okay, or do we need to bring a trashcan?" Peter asked.
"I'm okay," Neal responded quietly. His stomach was killing him and the room was jumping a little, but he didn't think Peter needed to know that. It would only give him something else to harp on. After all, he had done this to himself, so he didn't need Peter rubbing that in his face.
"No vomiting in my car," Peter warned in a bantering tone.
They got in Peter's car and started toward his house. After Neal saw where they were going, he raised his head to protest. "Come on Peter…I don't want Elizabeth to see me like this," he stated.
"Like what," Peter bantered in an attempt to lighten the mood.
Neal knew he had been busted. "Nothing…never mind," he answered, psyching himself up for being able to put it all on for Elizabeth. Over the past two years, Neal had thought as Elizabeth as being easy to get over on as he played the role of the calm and cool ex-con-artist-turn-partner-turn-friend.
He put his head back against the Taurus's headrest and closed his eyes. The air was chilly to him, and he shivered slightly.
Peter saw his slight shaking movements and asked, "You cold?"
"Yeah…a little," Neal answered, keeping his head back on the Taurus's headrest.
Peter turned on the heat and flipped the blowers toward his partner and questioned, "Better?"
"Yeah," Neal answered, but his shaking continued, and he still felt cold.
Peter pulled up in front of his house and put the gear into park but left the car running so the heat would continue to warm up his partner.
"Elizabeth and I bought this house when we were first married nine years ago," Peter said looking up toward his house. He turned to see if Neal was still leaning back with closed eyes or if he had turned his head to look at the house.
"I know, Peter. You've already told me that story," Neal interjected with a little attitude in his voice, but he had lifted his head to look in the direction of Peter and Elizabeth's house anyway.
"No…what I want to tell you right now is not necessarily about El and me. I mean, it is and it isn't," Peter answered calmly, forgiving Neal's attitude.
"Sorry," Neal said softly.
"When we were first married, I had just started working on your case in what was called the White Collar Task Force. The hours were long, but El never complained and was always there to listen to me and offer me advice when I was stuck. I shared everything about you with her, so she knows as much about you as I do," Peter said.
Neal nodded, suddenly realizing that Elizabeth knew more about him that he had known.
Peter continued, "But in all my digging…in all my chasing…in everything about you, I could not find anything about you before your 18th birthday. That's a mystery to me. I know Neal Caffrey is your real name, but it's like you don't exist until you're 18. You dropped on me several weeks ago that your dad was a dirty cop. You also said one time that you hadn't finished high school. But I can't get my hands on anything tangible about you until you're 18…no school records…no Juvy records…no nothing."
Neal regretted telling him about his father being a dirty cop, but it was too late and he knew that. Thank God Peter didn't know anything else about him. His earlier life was gritty and dirty, and he had never allowed anyone to completely enter into that aspect of his world…not even Mozzie or Kate. He certainly didn't want to start now.
The Taurus continued to run. The heat blasted on Neal, but he continued to shiver.
"Neal, you have to understand this. I never thought we would become friends. I never thought El and I would feel about you the way we do," Peter's discomfort with his confession was apparent to Neal.
Neal closed his eyes to avoid even seeing Peter in his peripheral vision.
Peter persisted, "El and I decided after a few years of marriage that we probably wouldn't have children. It just wasn't happening, and we made a conscious decision not to worry about it and to just love one another with all of our hearts."
This information was new to Neal. He had never really thought about them and children.
"So you see," Peter said, "You're the closest I have to a son."
At that, Neal could feel the blood draining from his face. He flashed back to his father and the sarcastic way he spoke the word son when he was drunk.
But Peter's son was not the same son his father had spoken. Peter's son was honest and affectionate.
Neal focused on his breathing so he wouldn't lose it right there in Peter's car in front of him. Nodding his head back and forth and biting his lip, Neal began, "When I was 18, I left home for good. I haven't seen my father since then. It's been twelve years now."
Peter sighed, recognizing that Neal was struggling about allowing him to enter into his dark and secret world. He wanted to ask Neal why he had left home. He wanted to know about Neal's mother, but he maintained his patience with Neal's slow timing. He acknowledged how difficult this had to be for the young man. "Do you want to go in for some coffee or back to your place," Peter questioned.
"It doesn't really matter," Neal answered, "But I don't want Elizabeth to see me like this."
Peter then recognized that Neal was not talking about his intoxication, and he respected Neal's right to continue his façade with El.
Neal didn't know that El had been able from the very beginning to see through him completely. She could read him far better than Peter ever could, and she had been the one who had suggested to Peter that Neal was possibly an abused child. Peter didn't want to believe that about his young partner, and he didn't want Neal to know that El had these suspicions.
"She won't be home for awhile. Let's go get some leftovers to eat," Peter offered.
He turned off the ignition and got out of the car.
Neal followed behind him, feeling an enormous weight on his shoulders. He struggled with what to do and how he could possibly reveal the sewage of his childhood to Peter. He grappled with how much Peter really needed to know. But most importantly, he couldn't bear the thought of Peter treating him like a victim. He had been resilient; he had survived.
The chilly air slapped Neal in the face and caused him to shiver even harder. It wasn't really that cold, so Peter realized it must be a combination of nerves and alcohol that was causing his friend to tremble.
"Sit at the table and I'll bring you a cup of coffee to warm you up if you'd like," Peter suggested.
Neal obliged, realizing that Peter was seeing him shiver.
"Are you hungry," Peter asked.
Neal honestly couldn't remember the last time he had eaten anything.
Not waiting for an answer, Peter made sandwiches and put chips in a bowl. He poured Neal a large cup of coffee with cream and no sugar, the way he liked it. Putting the items down on the table in front of him, Peter noticed the strangest expression on Neal's face. "Is something wrong," Peter wondered aloud.
"Why are you doing this," Neal asked.
"Doing what," Peter replied.
"Being so nice to me right now. Giving me food and coffee…" Neal grumbled.
"Huh?" Peter questioned.
Neal continued on without any hesitation, "…Wanting to know about my life. Why is it so important? What does that have to do with anything between us?" Neal's voice disclosed his apparent agitation.
"Neal," Peter answered, "Understanding your life has everything to do with us. I care for you. Don't you get that? I love you like a son," Peter responded.
"Oh," Neal said softly, shaking his head slightly, shocked by Peter's words. He hadn't really gotten that. He knew they had a bond between them, and he had grown to love Peter as a friend and father figure but had never really known exactly how Peter regarded him.
Peter's words penetrated his heart and mind. He struggled to keep down the emotions that were rising up inside him. At that point, he realized that their shared bond was actually deeper than he had been cognizant of. Most of the people in his life had used him—had put conditions on their love toward him. But now, here was Peter…wanting nothing except to just help him find his way.
He determined at that moment that he would try to let Peter enter into his world.
"I just don't even know where to start," Neal confided.
"Just start somewhere," Peter answered. "Okay…start by telling me why you left home at 18."
