The Present
Hospital
Peter paced up and down in the waiting room; finally he was allowed in to see Neal, and that was only after he confirmed he had Neal's power of attorney. Dr. Walker warned him before he let him into the room, "Mr. Caffrey's resting; don't do anything to aggravate him. You can stay for a few minutes, and Agent Burke, I will need to speak to you about what we do next about Mr. Caffrey. When we examined him we found cuts to his upper arm; these are clear signs of self-harm, and this suicide attempt is a clearly a call for help we—"
"Thank you, doctor." Peter cut him off firmly; he didn't want to think about what they were going to do next—the thought that Neal had been cutting himself sickened him, because it was proof that he had already failed Neal on one level. But he pushed that to the back of his mind; first he needed to see him. As he approached the room, he nodded to the Marshal on the door; Neal's tracker had been removed when he was taken into surgery to repair the damage to his wrist, and so far it hadn't been put back on.
Neal was awake when he came in; the first thing he said even though his voice was raspy and dry was, "I didn't do it, Peter. You have to believe me." There was an almost frantic edge to it, as he pleaded.
He reached out to Peter with his good hand, and Peter took it as he sat down; looking into Neal's eyes he saw the pain and emotional turmoil.
"The doctor said that you've been cutting yourself." It had to be said.
Neal looked down and his grip tightened on Peter's hand. "I never wanted you to know that."
"When did it start?"
There was a long pause. "When, Neal?" Peter prompted.
"When I was in prison; it was the only way." Neal looked up. "I found it helped; it was the only thing that I had control over—I needed control, Peter." His breath was ragged with emotion. "But I would never try to kill myself; you have to believe me."
Everything that had happened over the last few weeks told Peter that logically Neal might have been pushed over the edge; that he had been cutting himself seemed to be the final proof, but looking at his friend now,his heart was telling him different. Neal would never try to commit suicide, so when he said, "I believe you," Peter was telling him the truth. He sat by his side; he could feel Neal's eyes boring into him. "Can you tell me what happened?"
Neal shook his head. "I can't remember anything," and then he added, "Why can't I remember, Peter? You have to believe me."
Peter, hearing the beginning of panic in the younger man's voice, tried to reassure him. "I know, Neal, I believe you. We'll find who did this to you and why." He broke off as he saw one of the doctors in the doorway. The doctor waved him out of the room. Pausing, Peter said, giving Neal's hand a squeeze, "I will be back, Neal; hang in there."
This doctor was older than Dr. Walker. "Agent Burke."
"Yes."
Peter watched as the doctor checked his notes and he readied himself for an argument about Neal. He could well imagine that once the Justice Department heard about this they would want him moved to the prison psychiatric ward.
"My name is Dr Appleton; I was the surgeon who operated on Mr. Caffrey. I see that you have power of attorney for him and since you are also an FBI agent, it make it makes it easier to talk about this."
"Is he going to be all right?"
"There is always the possibility of losing feeling in the fingers with that kind of wound, but with Mr. Caffrey, I am convinced that he should make a full recovery." The doctor paused and then added, "But there is something that we need to speak about in connection with Mr. Caffrey's injuries."
"His suicide attempt." Peter shook his head. "I know Neal; he wouldn't try to do that.… He said he didn't do it; I believe him, but he can't remember what happened."
But the doctor cut him off. "That's just it, Agent Burke; I don't think it was a suicide attempt."
"What do you mean?"
"Mr. Caffrey is right-handed?" The doctor paused, waiting for Peter to confirm it.
"Yes."
Taking his pen, the doctor explained as he demonstrated, "If a right-handed person was going to cut their wrist, they would cut it from left to right, but Mr. Caffrey's wrist was cut from right to left; that is not a natural cutting motion. I have seen suicide attempts, and I have never seen a right-handed person cut themselves that way. Also the depth of the wound is even; normally the first part of the cut is shallow, getting deeper as the person drags the knife across, and also there are no hesitation cuts. So there is certainly something wrong here." He paused. "I asked for them to rush a tox screen on his blood, to see if there were any anomalies before I had Mr. Caffrey taken into surgery; I am expecting the result.…" The doctor trailed off as he saw one of the lab technicians coming towards him. When the man hesitated he waved him over.
"Doctor Appleton, I have the tox screen you asked for."
The doctor looked at it and nodded to himself before turning to Peter. "Mr. Caffrey has Rohypnol in his bloodstream; that would explain why he is unable to remember what happened, and I'll be honest, Agent Burke, I have never heard of anyone taking that drug before they try to commit suicide."
"Thank you, doctor." Peter paused and then added, "I'll need you to put everything you told me in a report."
Dr. Appleton nodded. "I can do that for you, Agent Burke, and ..." The doctor looked at him keenly. "... Mr. Caffrey will need all the support you can give him; he may not have cut his wrist, but he has other cuts that appear to be self-inflicted. When this is all over, you will need to be there for him. He'll need a support team, and based on your concern, Agent Burke, you would be ideally suited to it. He will be, I believe, in good hands."
"Thank you, Doctor." Peter put his hand out and they shook. As he walked back into the room, the news that someone was trying to kill Neal was frightening, but at the same time anything was better than thinking he was trying to kill himself...
Peter sat down on the edge of the bed. "Neal, the doctor got the results back from your tox screen; you had Rohypnol in your system—that would explain why you can't remember. The wound on your wrist, the doctor said it was highly unlikely in his experience that you could have done it yourself; you have your proof there was someone else in your room with you. You have to tell me what else has been happening; you said you saw Kate on the street outside of June's, with Mozzie and with us. What aren't you telling me?"
Neal looked down, avoiding his eyes and he saw the shame in them. "Please, Neal, you have to tell me."
"Since we last talked about it, I've seen her on the street again; she disappeared when I followed her into a shop, and I've smelled her perfume again. And.…" He trailed off.
Peter leaned in closer. "I know you don't want to hear this, Neal, but Kate: did you see her clearly? Are you sure it was her?"
"Yes, no. I don't know." There was an edge of panic now in Neal's voice when he replied.
He caught Neal's good hand again. "Easy, buddy, we will find out who is doing this, but you have been set up; you do understand that, don't you?"
"She's dead," Neal said softly. He closed his eyes, and his tears seeped slowly from under his eyelashes.
"Yes, she is," Peter said softly. "Oh hell," Peter swore, then pulled Neal into his arms and just held him, rubbing his back as the tears that Neal had been unable to shed finally rolled down his face. Neal's whole body was shaking with his sobs, but for Peter there was nothing embarrassing in the younger man's emotions. Because this was Neal, this was his friend, and he needed this moment. Needed this final release, and Peter vowed that whoever had done this would pay.
Finally, Peter lowered him back on the bed, and with his thumb brushed the tears away. "Try to rest, Neal." When the younger man's good hand caught his wrist, Peter added, "I am not going anywhere."
Only then did Neal fall asleep clutching Peter's hand to his chest; only this time he didn't dream.
0-0-0-0-0-0
An hour later a nurse put her head around the door to tell him that Agents Jones and Berrigan were waiting by the nurses' station for him.
Peter reluctantly left Neal's side to meet Diana and Jones; quickly he told them what had been happening with Neal, and concluded with the findings of Dr. Appleton. "We need to get Dr. Khan from forensics involved; have him go over Neal's apartment to see what he can find. Someone is screwing with his head and I want to know how they're doing it."
Diana nodded. "When 'Kate' went into the shop, did he tell you which one? Because most shops have cameras and they might have caught her on it."
"No, but when he wakes up, I'll ask him."
They heard a loud clatter and yelling, and the emergency call light outside of Neal's room began to flash, and the orderlies came running.
When Peter, Diana and Jones got there, Neal was out of his bed and cowering against the far wall as two orderlies tried to grab at him. The FBI agents pushed past them, and formed a barrier between them and Neal.
"What the hell's happening here?" Peter demanded.
"Mr. Caffrey is being transported to the psychiatric ward, and—" Dr Walker started to tell him only to be cut off by Neal.
"Peter, you said, you said, you—" Neal's panic cut through Peter like a knife.
"I meant it," Peter said firmly but kindly, and then snarled at the orderlies and the doctor, "Neal didn't try to commit suicide; he was attacked. Dr. Appleton confirmed it, so back off him, or I'll have you arrested for assault."
Peter turned his back on them, trusting Diana and Jones to deal with them; bending, he carefully helped Neal to his feet and back to the bed.
The hand that clamped his arm was bruising, but Peter didn't try to break Neal's grip on him, surprised to find that he needed this connection as much as Neal did.
When Dr. Appleton arrived it didn't take long to have it all straightened out; the senior doctor tore into his colleague, demanding to know who had signed the authorization to commit Neal.
Hearing the doctor's argument, Peter got a feeling that this wasn't a mistake; too many things were happening around Neal for him to believe that anything else was by chance.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
The next day Peter called in to see Neal and found El sitting with him; she had brought a comfort basket, along with a drawing tablet and her iPad with art books on it. Peter was pleased to see that Neal was looking better, and took a seat on the other side of him. "I need you to look at this, Neal."
He opened the laptop up and then slid a CD in. "Diana went back to the shop you chased Kate into, Neal, and this is the tape she found. I am sorry." He pressed play. The video was black and white and jerky; the woman had the same long dark hair, and slender graceful body, but it wasn't Kate. El reached for Neal's hand and squeezed it as she saw him blink away tears. He knew that Kate was dead and last night had cried out his grief and pain, but this was the death of a dream.
"Diana talked to the shop assistants, and asked why they had told you no one had come in. It turned out she told them you were an old ex stalking her. So they covered for her. Do you recognize her at all, Neal?"
The young con man shook his head. "No.… Sorry."
Just then there was a knock on the door and Ruiz stood there. Peter got up; he didn't know why the agent was there, but even though he'd heard from Diana how Ruiz had sympathized with Neal earlier, it didn't mean that he was there for any good reasons. Peter positioned himself between Neal and Ruiz. "What do you want, Ruiz? This has got nothing to do with Organized Crime. If you're here to—"
Ruiz cut across him, "Hold your horses, Burke; I brought the forensic report. Dr. Khan found scratches around the lock on the back door to the house, suggesting that it's been tampered with. He also found a small bottle of Eau d'Hadrien perfume at Caffrey's home." When Neal was about to protest he put a hand up.
"Whoever left the bottle wanted us to think that Caffrey had bought it to feed his fantasy about his girlfriend; we found traces of it all over his pillow. Dr. Khan ran the fingerprints on it and they do match Caffrey's prints that we have on file, but the position of them on the bottle isn't conducive to someone holding it. The other point in your favor, Caffrey, is that it's Eau d'Hadrien perfume, and that is only stocked in four shops in the whole of New York, and all four of them are out of your radius. And they don't do mail order."
Ruiz paused, looking at Neal thoughtfully. "Someone has been working real hard to sell the idea that you were so grief stricken and deluded that you tried to kill yourself."
Peter nodded in agreement. "Whoever it is knows, sorry, knew Kate—that time in LA we nearly got you when you stole that large $500 bottle of perfume for her. So who else would know that she loved that particular scent?"
"She got her first bottle, a small bottle, as a present from Adler as a bonus; it was her..." Neal trailed off and then added, "It was her favorite from then on." Neal tried to change the subject. " So why are you doing this for me?" He didn't think that Ruiz would answer him but the agent did.
"Because I had someone kill themselves because they were pushed too far; I couldn't stop that, but I can stop this." He turned to go, and then paused, looking over his shoulder back at Neal. "But that doesn't mean I won't kick your ass if I find you've been messing with one of my cases, Caffrey." But he smiled as he said it.
"Special Agent Ruiz, thank you," Neal said, and meant it.
Ruiz nodded, and to Peter said, "If you need any more people on the ground, let me know; I've cleared it with Hughes and my boss," then left, leaving Peter looking after him in disbelief, but proud that the man could put aside his own prejudice against Neal being a consultant to help him.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
It was three days later that Neal was sent home, and he woke in the middle of the night to the scent of perfume; he switched the light on as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He ran a hand through his hair. "It's not going to happen this time, so why don't you come out of hiding?"
Instead of a woman, the person that stepped through the door was a man in his early thirties, with long greasy-looking hair pulled back in a ponytail. In his hand he held a gun. Over his shoulder he had knotted sheets.
"This time, Caffrey, you're going to die. You should have last time; you couldn't even do that right."
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"Look at you, you piece of filth, you took Kate from me, and you got her killed."
Neal frowned. "I've never met you."
"Of course you have, only I was 40 pounds heavier, your name wasn't Caffrey, and I was just Adler's IT guy; remember me now, Nick?" he drawled. "There had been other boyfriends before you, but somehow they never lasted, and I always hoped that she would notice me. But once Kate saw you she didn't see me; I was just some fat computer geek. I bought her her favorite perfume that Christmas, it was expensive, but it would have been worth every penny to see the look of joy on her face when she opened the present. But she walked straight past me to get to you, and all you had was a rose.
"Then you took her on the dance floor and danced the tango with her, and everyone, fuck it, everyone said you were perfect for her. I was the one that loved her, and you know what you did, Mr. High and Mighty? She came over and asked if I wanted to dance, and I was so happy she had seen me. My beautiful Kate had seen me, but then she said it was all right because you had asked her to ask me.
"It was your pity, NICK, and the people around me laughed, NICK." His voice was loud now as he came closer and spat the name at Neal. "They laughed at the fat man who could only get a dance if the handsome NICK allowed it." He paused, gasping for breath. "I read about her death and knew that I had to do something; you caused it, and if you hadn't been a criminal she wouldn't have died. So I had to make you suffer, and I did." He began to gloat. "Did you really think you were seeing her, NICK? The perfume, laced with the drug I pumped in here, gave you a real ride. I even left a bottle of it here for your FBI pals to find, so they would think that you bought it yourself. Now you're going to die; you're going to hang yourself. It's a pity, NICK; it's a pity that they couldn't save you."
"I am sorry you felt that way but Kate didn't love you; we can't make people love us, and it wasn't my fault that she died. I know that now." Neal gave a small shrug of the shoulders.
"You're going to take this rope." Todd threw the sheets at him. "You'll like it—it's pure Egyptian cotton—and you're going to put it over that pipe there in the kitchen and you're going to hang yourself, once and for all."
"No." Neal got up slowly.
"You've got a death wish, Caffrey," Todd demanded as he cocked the gun.
"You're not going to pull the trigger, because you weren't the one that did this to me." He touched the bandage around his left wrist as he spoke.
There was the sound of slow clapping, and a woman walked into the room.
"Mary, you should have stayed in the car," Todd said.
"What, and missed this?" She was the woman from the picture, Kate but not Kate. "You might be wondering who I am; maybe I should tell you." She had a gun in her hand.
"Mary Kay Mor—" That was as far as Peter got before the woman spun around; there was the crack of a gun and hers went flying from her hand as the bullet hit her arm. Todd dropped his weapon.
"Kate's older sister," Peter said as a way of explaining, as he came in with Jones and Diana.
The woman broke into tears, sobbing as she clung to her bleeding arm, then she turned on Neal; she said the most vile things that Peter had ever heard, and that was saying something. Neal didn't say anything in his defense, but his swayed slightly as if they were physical blows, not words hitting him.
Jones dragged her out of the room, with a protesting Todd being taken out by Diana; by the time they got down to the car, Todd was trying for a deal.
Peter walked past Neal, leaving the younger man staring down at the floor; he hadn't moved since she had started yelling at him. Picking the black bag up from where Neal had left it when he came in, Peter dumped it on a chair, and then picked up the battered leather jacket and thrust it into Neal's hand.
"What?"
"You're coming home with me."
When Neal opened his mouth to protest, Peter shook his head. "You're coming home, mister, so accept it."
As Peter shepherded his friend down the stairs, Peter was thankful that their plan had worked; they had set up surveillance equipment behind the two-way mirror in the apartment, and had it manned round the clock. Then it had just been a waiting game, until the bad guys had decided to move in on Neal and finish what they had started. It was then the trap had been sprung, and thank God it had worked.
Now they had them; Neal could continue with his life.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Two weeks later
The weather was overcast when they gathered in the cemetery; slowly the coffin was lowered into the ground. Neal stood by the side of the grave, with Elizabeth on one side of him holding his hand, with Mozzie standing next to her. On his other side was Peter; the older man's arm was around his shoulder, allowing him to draw on Peter's strength and support. When the graveside service was finished, Neal threw a rose into the grave, his eyes never leaving it as it arched into space before dropping down onto the polished coffin.
The one secret they shared that Neal didn't was that the coffin was empty; there hadn't been enough of Kate left to bury, but that wasn't important. What was important was that Neal now had a place to grieve, a place that he could visit and move on from. It might have seemed selfish, but for Peter, Elizabeth and Mozzie, all that mattered was Neal, his safety and his sanity.
It was Peter that thanked the priest, leaving Neal in Mozzie and Elizabeth's competent hands. Neal stopped long enough to shake hands with and thank Diana, Jones and—not so surprising as it may have once been—Ruiz for coming; the FBI agents fell into step with him as he was shepherded to Peter's car. One life was over for Neal now. No one was fool enough to think it would be easy—Neal had demons to exorcise—but he was with friends now and a new life could finally start.
The End