Author's Notes: I wanted to thank everyone who reviewed this story and who were kind enough to add it to their favorites or alert list. I am surprised and gratified by the response.
I hope you enjoy this next chapter; I had a totally different plan for it but the story grew and changed, and I had to go along with it.
Disclaimer: I don't own this, alas. Please don't sue me.
Long after Neal slept, Peter remained by his side.
Peter sat on the edge of the coffee table, hands clasped loosely on his lap as he stared blankly at a spot on the wall. Elizabeth let him be for the moment. She knew what he was doing. He was pulling apart the day, looking at every angle, putting pieces together and wondering what he could have done differently. It was always like this when an operation went south or when a criminal eluded capture. Past experience had taught her to let him work through things on his own for a while, and then approach him.
"Honey, I'm going to get the sleeping bags, all right?" she said to her husband. Peter mumbled a response; evidence enough that he had heard her but that he wasn't really listening. His attention had turned back to Neal, who had shifted and let out a small moan of fear. Peter rested his hand on the younger man's shoulder to comfort him. Neal settled back into his exhausted sleep with a little sigh.
Satisfied that Neal was resting once more, Peter rubbed a hand across his eyes and stood to take El in his arms. Elizabeth leaned against his broad chest and offered silent comfort to him. She ran her hands along his back. The muscles were taut with tension and she tried to rub some of tightness away.
"I love you," he murmured against her temple. He tipped her head back and pressed a kiss to her lips. "I'm sorry I wasn't listening. What did you say to me?"
"I'm getting the sleeping bags. I know we can't leave him, but we can try to rest a little," she responded, her voice soft. They kept their voices low so that their guest wouldn't be disturbed. At the moment Neal slept on, oblivious to everything around him. Elizabeth was glad; now if only she could convince Peter to get some rest as well she would be happy.
"Thank you," Peter said. His hands traced the curve of her body and then reluctantly let go. "I need to call Diana, see what all has been going on." He sounded tired but his expression was determined.
Elizabeth nodded in understanding. People had died; Neal could have been killed. Fowler was possibly in danger. For that matter, they were probably in danger too. Peter would want to know what was happening; would work on every angle until he was satisfied that no more harm would come to those he cared about.
"I have to call Mozzie and let him know how Neal is," she said to Peter. He nodded absently his thoughts already back on the case as he walked into the kitchen to have his conversation. Elizabeth watched him go, her heart aching. He was going to wear himself out if she didn't keep an eye on him.
Before she made the trek up the stairs, El tucked the blanket a little more around Neal. He was so deeply asleep that he didn't stir, not even when she kissed him lightly on the forehead.
Satisfied that Neal was as comfortable as could be expected, Elizabeth went up the stairs. When she reached the master bedroom she pulled out the new prepaid cell Moz had given to her a few hours earlier and used the speed dial to call his new number. For once she had agreed with his paranoia about the government. A small smile graced her lips despite the seriousness of the situation. He was certainly a character, but he was a good friend to Neal.
She barely heard the phone ring on her end before the bald conman's voice greeted her. "About time, Mrs. Suit," he said. He was trying to sound condescending. Even though she didn't know him very well she could still pick up the anxiety in his voice. "I was beginning to wonder if I was going to have to create a diversion to divert the safety brigade and come to the door to see what's been going on."
"Hello to you, Moz," Elizabeth said. She brushed her dark hair behind her ears and sat on the bed with a sigh. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting. They took a while at the office and then we were just trying to let him settle in."
"Are you sure these people can be trusted? I don't like Feds. You can't trust them." Any other day Elizabeth might have argued with Neal's strange friend, but after today she had to agree with him.
"I know, Moz. The team is led by Agent Jones," El assured him. Before Peter had arrived the team had been in place. Jones had vetted the people himself, and knew that they were all loyal to Peter – and to Neal. Despite what Mozzie may have thought, most of Peter's team liked Neal and would protect him as fiercely as they would any of their own.
"He won't let any harm come to Neal, I promise." There was silence on the other end, as if Mozzie was carefully considering what he was going to say.
"For the record, if he has to be with someone besides me, I guess I'm glad it's you two," Mozzie said with resignation. "But," he added quickly. "Don't tell the Suit I said that."
Elizabeth let out a short laugh. "Not a word, I swear. I'd let you talk to Neal but he fell asleep a little while ago…unless you want me to wake him…?" She let the question dangle, but she hoped Mozzie would let his friend get the rest he desperately needed.
"No, let him rest," Mozzie said. "I want to come by tomorrow." There was a pause, followed by a reluctant, "Please?"
"Of course," El agreed immediately. "He'll want to see you. Come around ten? That'll give him time to get his bearings."
"Yeah, of course. Don't worry, Mrs. Suit, the Feds aren't the only ones keeping an eye out for you tonight." With that he hung up before she could ask him where he was hiding.
~*****~
Elizabeth was in a happier mood as she carried the sleeping bags down the stairs. Reassuring Mozzie that Neal was safe had helped to remind her that their safety was one less problem they had to worry about. She was touched that Mozzie was staking out their house, watching the Feds and watching for any other trouble that might show up.
Neal hadn't moved much since El had gone upstairs. She noticed that he had nestled a little deeper into the couch and he had shifted so that his head was more comfortable. His breathing had deepened and an occasional light snore escaped from his parted lips.
She had to smile as she began to unroll the sleeping bags. She had just started to arrange the bedding so that it would be a little more comfortable when Satchmo trotted over to investigate the bedding. Anxious to help, he sprawled over the makeshift beds with a grunt and looked up at Elizabeth with a pleased expression on his face. After two failed attempts to get the dog to move, she gave up on making up their beds for the moment.
Satchmo let out a satisfied grunt and put his head down, already half asleep. Elizabeth gave the old dog a pat on the head and went into the kitchen to see if Peter had any news on the explosion. She bit down on her lip to hide her smile as she pushed the door open and heard Peter say in an exasperated voice, "No, that's probably Haversham. Short bald guy with glasses?"
Peter snorted at something that was said on the other end of the line. "Of course he looks suspicious. Don't worry about it; he's harmless. Make sure someone keeps track of him. We don't need anyone going after him too."
Of course Peter would think to keep an eye on Mozzie. Elizabeth felt her heart warm just a little bit. He tried to act like he didn't care, but Peter was a good man. He would protect everyone who was important to Neal. She briefly wondered how Mozzie would feel about Peter putting a protective detail on him, and she decided to ask the conman the next time she spoke to him. It would be an entertaining conversation, she was sure.
"All right, keep me updated," Peter said and with a weary sigh, he hung up the phone. He obviously hadn't heard El come in because he hadn't greeted her. Thinking that he was still alone, the FBI agent let his shoulders drop and he covered his eyes with a trembling hand.
"Peter?" Elizabeth asked in a quiet voice. He turned in surprise, his stoic mask carefully back in place. When he saw that she was alone, he slouched against the counter top and ran a hand through his hair. "Are you all right?" she pressed when he remained silent.
"Hey honey," he said with a small shake of his head. His mind was still wrapped up in whatever he and Diana had been discussing.. "I'm just…thinking. How's Neal?" Peter was not nearly as good at deflecting questions as Neal was. Elizabeth didn't push him. When he was ready to talk, he would.
"Oh, he's sleeping. Snoring, actually," El responded with a small smile. Some of the tight lines around Peter's eyes softened. That was exactly the response she had been hoping to get. Anything was better than her husband brooding all night. "I thought you were kidding when you said he snored."
Peter's lips lifted in a half smile. "He wouldn't believe you if you told him. He got offended when I told him." Peter toyed with his empty coffee mug and set it on the counter. "I wish I could fix this for him. I don't know what to do to help."
The smile slipped off his face and El hugged him. "Hon, you're doing everything right," Elizabeth assured him. He kissed the top of her head and leaned against her while she rubbed a hand along his back. They were quiet for a few minutes and his body began to relax.
"We have a full team watching the house," he finally broke the silence. "Jones is heading it up. No real news from the explosion. They don't even know how many casualties there are." He shivered against Elizabeth. "The flight manifest had eight passengers and two crew members, but I guess right now it's impossible to be certain…They're trying to track everyone down…"
His voice trailed off into choked silence. Elizabeth remained silent – what could she possibly say to make him feel better? She continued to rub her hand over Peter's back and waited for him to continue. When he didn't, she stopped with the back massage and kissed him on the cheek.
"It'll be all right," she said, because she couldn't think of anything else that would be more comforting. She remembered the conversation she had walked in on, and that reminded her that she had better let him know to expect company in the morning. "Mozzie is coming over in the morning. I told him to come around ten."
Peter nodded. "That'll be good. I have to go in to the office for more questioning. They were done with Neal but they wanted to keep me there to talk with OPR about Fowler." He sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I have to explain why I shot him. And we have to sort out the mess OPR made of the arrangement with Neal."
He looked so unhappy; Elizabeth wished there was a way to make things easier for him. She had nothing to offer him but herself, and hope that somehow that would be enough to carry him through this ordeal. She had forgotten about him shooting Fowler; their conversation from this morning may as well have taken place a century ago. She remembered that her biggest concern at the time was that he would lose his job over what had happened with the crooked OPR agent. The fear was still there, but Peter seemed confident that he would come out on top of things.
As if he was reading her thoughts, Peter pressed a kiss to her forehead and said, "Things will be fine. Fowler is the one who has the tough explanations, not me. The meeting tomorrow is just so the bureau has its paperwork in order. I'm going to take a shower. Why don't you make some coffee and watch a movie?"
He was really asking her to make coffee because he was hopeless with the coffee maker and he didn't want Neal to be alone. She didn't mind.
"All right," Elizabeth agreed with a smile. One last kiss and he left her alone in the kitchen. Only when she was certain he was gone did she hide her face in her hands and let a few tears fall.
~*****~
Peter walked as quietly as he could through the living room. Neal was sound asleep on the couch and he didn't want to wake the younger man. Satchmo was curled up on the sleeping bags. His tail thumped a few times when Peter came in the room, and for a minute Peter thought the dog might follow him. Satchmo seemed to consider his options. Then he snorted and put his head back down, indicating his dismissal of Peter's importance.
It figured that even the dog wouldn't leave Neal. The younger man was a royal pain in the ass. Being mixed up with him for a few months had put Peter's career in danger more times than he cared to count. He drove Peter crazy almost every day – on purpose -- the little snot. And yet…even with this mess with OPR and Kate, Peter didn't have any regrets. He just hoped that when the grief abated Neal wouldn't have any either.
A fond smile tugged at the corners of Peter's mouth as he looked at the slumbering form of his friend. Neal seemed so young in his sleep, curled up on the sofa with his dark hair tousled and his face still blotched from tears. The blanket had slid off his bare feet, leaving them exposed. Without thinking about it, Peter tucked the blanket back around him. Neal let out another snore and moved his feet, trying to get them warm.
The FBI agent watched for a moment longer and then turned away. He made his way slowly up the stairs, feeling the aches from struggling with Neal on the tarmac. That was only part of his excuse for wanting – no needing – a shower. He felt like he could still feel ashes on his skin and hair. He remembered after September 11th, after the towers had fallen, how many showers he had taken to try to get rid of the ashes and dirt from that terrible day.
Felling old and worn, Peter turned the shower on and stripped out of his clothes. He tossed them in the hamper and then hopped into the shower without waiting for the water to heat up. The cool water helped revive him a little as he scrubbed down. Unbidden, the image of Kate going back into the plane as he arrived took over his thoughts.
He closed his eyes, but that only made things worse. He could see the plane explode. Neal's horror and anguish beat at him like a physical blow while he struggled to keep the younger man from racing to the blazing plane. The worst moment was when the fight left Neal's body and he collapsed against Peter. He'd pressed his face into Peter's chest and keened. Then he had been silent. The wind shifted and they were hit with a fine dusting of hot ash.
Kate's ashes.
He had never liked Kate. He had discouraged Neal from looking for her. He had even warned her off of Neal. When she refused he had offered to get her whatever she wanted from him. He didn't think she loved Neal (still didn't think she loved him). But this…he didn't want this. He would never have…he should have helped Neal with the music box. He could have maybe found a way around Fowler, or offered shelter to Kate. He could have…
Tears leaked out from beneath Peter's closed lashes. He had thought that it was strange that OPR had Neal as an undercover agent. Why hadn't he gotten Kate off the plane? He should have realized that the young couple would be in danger. He may not have been able to save everyone, but he maybe could have saved Kate.
Kate, whose ashes he had washed down the drain earlier that day. Who, he was trying to be rid of in this very instant. Guilt and shame clawed in his belly, twisting his burning gut until it was a different kind of pain.
His stomach twisted and he gagged, barely making it from the shower to the toilet before he became ill. He retched several times as the explosion played over in his mind. Neal could have been on that plane. The thought of having Neal's ashes cover him was too much for Peter to bear. He vomited until he cried, and then he cried for what was lost, and what might still be lost in the coming days.
Later. When he could be with El he would let himself go again. Right now he had to hold on and hope that Neal would someday forgive him for his failures. When his stomach calmed a little, Peter struggled to his feet and stumbled back into the shower. He let the warm water pelt down on him and wash away the traces of his tears.
~tbc