Title: Songbird

Rating: PG for language

Spoilers: Minor ones for first season

Warnings: Part IV refers back to "Out of the Heart of Darkness" from Chapter 4.

Paring(s): Peter/Elizabeth - non-sexual; Christie/Diana - non-sexual

Notes: Written as comment fic for Elrhiarhoden's Prompt Fest. Prompt: Songbirds.

I.

Neal loved to sit on the Burke's patio. They had a nice little backyard for being in Brooklyn, and he liked nothing more than to sit outside on warm days and listen to the birds singing. He was especially amused that a pair of Monk Parakeets had taken up residence in their small yard, and he enjoyed listening to them calling at each other.

With the sunlight slanting down on him and the birdsong filling the air, Neal was reminded of all the small things he'd missed in prison. He sipped at his iced coffee and started to read over a file while he waited for Peter to join him. Satchmo raced over to him, tail between his legs, and squeezed himself between Neal's out-stretched legs and the chair. Perplexed, Neal chuckled and rubbed the dog's ears affectionately before he closed his eyes, tipped his head back and allowed himself to be swept up in the natural symphony around him.

II.

Satchmo didn't like songbirds. He couldn't catch them and they would sit just out of his reach and taunt him. One time he'd found a little hapless one on the ground. He had nudged at it and couldn't decide what to do, especially with the larger birds swooping in on him and pecking him. He brought it to Mommy and Daddy so they could take care of it.

It didn't go very well. Daddy had scolded him, Mommy let out a yell when the little one flapped and flopped into his water dish, and Neal, his new friend, had just laughed. Satchmo spent the rest of the night in disgrace. He didn't even get to finish his food.

He didn't understand his pack's reaction but Satchmo learned his lesson. The next time he saw a wee little one flapping around with other birds around it he hid under the chairs on the deck, seeking refuge under Neal's legs for extra protection.

III.

To Elizabeth, songbirds were a reminder of the summers she spent with her grandmother, learning all the names of the brightly colored bids and memorizing their calls. They were some of the happiest memories she had, and in honor of those memories, she set up the small Brooklyn backyard to be a haven for the birds. Every time she heard a lark's song she thought of Nana and smiled.

IV.

The only fond memory Peter had of his parents was from when he was quite young. They had taken him to the zoo (one of their last outings as a family), and they spent the day wandering the park and looking at all the animals.

They had gone to the "bird house" at his mother's request. His father had laughed at her but had cheerfully acquiesced. They spent a long time there, and oohed and ahhhed over the bright little birds. It was one of the only times he could remember them all holding hands, and he kept that memory close to him on his loneliest days.

V.

June loved giving Neal an excuse to accompany her to the park. He never wanted to impose on her, but he lit up with happiness when she included him in her little family functions. Watching him brighten, and his spirits lift as he listened to the birds warmed her, and for a moment, sometimes she could imagine it was Byron beside her.

VI.

Hughes was born in New York. He knew all about birds - rats with wings. They pooped everywhere, were ridden with diseases and they nested in inconvenient spots. Then one day his daughter found an injured yellow finch.

Much to his chagrin she brought it to him because he could fix anything. It was like holding a ray of sunshine; bright, beautiful and delicate. He took it to the animal hospital, and spent the next two weeks constructing elaborate birdhouses with his children.

Despite the splinters, headaches and stubborn paint that he couldn't remove from his nails, he found those to be some of the best moments in his life.

VII.

"This is what I spent all week looking for?" Jones asked. It had been his first solo case and to be honest, he was not happy about the outcome. "This?"

"Yep," Peter confirmed, his eyes twinkling. "This is it."

"How much is this worth?" Jones asked, just to be certain he understood that the wobbly, copper songbird they'd found in a safe was indeed the Super Secret Item the bad guys had been wanting.

"Eight hundred grand - when it was new and undamaged. Now? Maybe about a hundred bucks. Really guys, stop laughing at Jones. He worked hard to find this…thing," Neal scolded as the other members of the team giggled. He was supposed to be the best liar out of the group and even he was failing miserably at trying to contain his laughter.

"I hate birds," Jones groaned as he glared at the ugly figurine he'd lost three nights of sleep over. As if on cue, the beak fell off the damn thing, and everyone, including him, burst into hysterical laughter.

VIII.

Christina proposed to Diana in the park one morning. They sat on the bench together and kissed as a pair of cardinals chirped in the tree above them.

IX.

"Secret government employees?" Peter demanded. Even Neal looked a little askance, and he was used to Mozzie's eccentricities. "Really? You thought the F.B.I. was using blue jays to spy on you?"

Moz had the grace to look embarrassed. "It was an old theory...Never mind. You want to go see the new Ninja film at the theater?"

Peter and Neal grinned at each other and Mozzie knew that his blue jay theory was going to get him a lot of teasing the next few days. On the bright side, he hadn't seen that smile of Neal's in far too long. A little bruised pride was well worth the cost of seeing Neal cheered up, and judging by the knowing look in Peter's eyes, he knew the F.B.I. agent felt the same way.

"Ah, but I didn't tell you my theory on the buntings," Mozzie said as they left Neal's place.

fin

Thank you to everyone who has been reading this, and big thanks to my reviewers. I'm working on a request from one of my reviewers; that should be up later this week. Thanks again!