CHAPTER FOUR

"A man calumniated is doubly injured - first by him who utters the calumny, and then by him who believes it."

March 30, 2011

New York City

In the three weeks after Peter and Neal's deaths, Sara had buried herself in work. Everyone knew she was a workaholic, but this was extreme overload. She was barely getting sleep, talked to no one unless she had to, and her appetite had dwindled into an unhealthy state. Coworkers who thought they were friends of Sara's tried to intervene. They knew that she had worked a few times with Peter and Neal, but they didn't know much about the friendships. And they knew nothing about the romantic relationship that had begun to blossom between her and Neal.

Sara had always considered herself a hard person. No parents, her sister had run away; she was no stranger to loss. She didn't want to admit to herself that her wallowing was because of some love towards Neal. But finally, one night, she just couldn't take it anymore. For the first time since their deaths, she cried.

She curled up on her couch with a bottle of wine and started drinking, thinking about how life was terribly unfair. Her tears came for herself at first: unfair that her sister had run away; unfair that her parents had died so close together; unfair that her relationships were always doomed. And then at the thought of relationships, her tears came up at the thought of Neal and his untimely death. She cried about how it was unfair that Neal and Peter should die that way; men who hated violence and did what they could to prevent but only ended up dying in a violent way. She cried for Peter and Neal who had been in the prime of their partnership; going only up in the world. She cried for Peter and Elizabeth; the best couple she ever saw who were torn away from each other; for Mozzie who now seemed very much alone; for June whose house was quiet again. And then she even found tears for Jones and Diana, who had their team torn apart.

She cried because it was just so wrong.

And she cried until she was out of wine, and then she fell asleep.

()()()()()()

March 31, 2011

The next day, Sara called in sick. She woke up with one helluva a hangover, but had now resolved to start over. She had slept in later than she had in a while, and she could feel the good effects of it. She took a long, hot shower, and made herself a late breakfast before getting dressed in some comfortable clothes. She did her makeup, noting the circles under her eyes. She told herself that she had to move on. This wasn't the first time she had lost someone and it was probably not the last. She would give herself a few days to get everything straight in her head and her life, and then move on. And that meant that she needed to visit some people.

She debated on whether or not she should call ahead, the whole time she was on her way. But before she could make up her mind, the taxi was pulled up in front of the Federal building and she had no choice but to get out. The security guard knew her well enough and waved her through with a little look of sympathy. The deaths of Peter and Neal seemed to have dimmed down the place, but maybe that was her perception. After all, she had only come to FBI when she had dealings with the White Collar Division. Now, the division seemed to be lacking something. If she was wrong that people downstairs in the lobby were affected by the deaths, she wasn't wrong about the division being affected. As soon as she stepped out of the elevator, she could feel how wrong the floor felt. Even after three weeks it was apparent that people around here hadn't fully recovered.

She walked in through the glass doors and immediately there were several pairs of eyes on her. She knew that they were still investigating every detail of Alex's story. And everything seemed painfully true; the papers had already gone over all the wreckage of the blown up submarine out at sea. No doubt, this was taking its toll on the division. It was their people, after all.

Sara's eyes rested momentarily on Neal's desk. She was startled by how normal it appeared. It was as if nothing had been touched. It was like the desk was waiting for him to return. She tore her eyes away from it and started walking to the conference room. She could see Diana standing up and she got closer, she saw Jones sitting down beside Elizabeth. Hughes was there as well. Sara walked up the steps, ignoring Peter's dark office, and went into conference room.

"Hey Sara," said Elizabeth. Sara offered Elizabeth a small smile. She had meant to go see Elizabeth today, but hadn't expected her here.

"Hi," said Sara. "I don't mean to barge in if you guys are working on something."

"Actually, we were going to call you eventually," said Hughes. "Have a seat." He motioned to the table and Sara sat down, facing Diana and Hughes.

"What's going on," she asked.

"I was just explaining to Elizabeth that O.P.R. has launched an investigation into the Peter and Neal," said Hughes.

"You mean their deaths," asked Sara.

"No," said Diana. "They're investigating Peter and Neal."

"I'm not sure I understand," said Sara. "Do they suspect them of something?"

"They say that they suspect them of working with Adler," said Jones.

"What," screeched Sara. "That's the craziest thing I've ever heard!"

Elizabeth rested a hand on Sara's. "Sara, the point is that they're trying to get under our skin. Or someone is at least."

"You mean that this is Adler's work," asked Sara. "He's manipulating someone in O.P.R. just like he did with Fowler?"

"Right," said Diana. "He's trying to destroy Peter and Neal's reputations."

"But why," asked Sara. "And what kind of proof does anyone have of Peter and Neal working with Adler. Everything they did was against him."

"What we think," said Hughes. "Is that Adler is worried about the kind of response he is going to get from all of this. Obviously, since he killed off an FBI Agent and his consultant, and then got away with billions of worth of treasure, he is going to have to lay low for a while. He wants to minimize that time, and the best way for him to do it is by distracting away from him."

Sara gave a slow nod. "So, by making this more about Peter and Neal, he figures he might be forgotten about a little bit?"

"Right," said Jones. "And if he could discredit their word…then that means he could get away with more. He knows that we won't back down on a search for him. Even while we're working other cases, we'll be looking for him. But if he can put doubt into other peoples' minds, then he would be able to minimize the pressure. So, instead of O.P.R. helping us in figuring out where Adler might be, he's got them discrediting Peter and Neal."

Sara shook her head. "What a bastard." She smiled. "Excuse my language."

"That's okay, I said the same thing," said Elizabeth.

"So, what do you need me for," asked Sara. "You said that you were going to call me?"

"Yes," said Hughes. He looked at Elizabeth as well. "We don't want the first time that either of you hear about this be from the television or papers. We're sure that no matter how much we do to keep it out of the media, it'll get out. We'll do everything we can to shoot down O.P.R.'s evidence. But listen, this is something Adler is doing for show to distract. No one around here with half a brain is actually going to believe any of these accusations. The problem will be the people outside of the Bureau and Courtrooms who don't even know what the hell is going on."

"Like the media," asked Elizabeth.

"Right," said Hughes. "This might be difficult for you both. Peter and Neal are about to heavily slandered no doubt."

"Well, we know it isn't true," said Elizabeth. "And we know that you don't believe it either. That's what matters."

Diana smiled. "Remember, if you ever need anything…"

"Just call," finished Elizabeth. "I got it. Thanks."

"Same goes for you, Sara," said Hughes. "If you ever need anything, you're welcome to contact us. Of course, we hope to continue to work with you on any of your cases."

"I'll drop by every now and then," promised Sara.

"Sounds good," said Hughes. "We'll let you both know when we find something else regarding Adler. We will find him."

"We know," said Elizabeth, as she stood up. "Thank you, Reese. I'm just going to get back to cleaning out their desks."

Sara frowned. So that was why she was here. "Would you like me to help?"

Elizabeth looked at her and smiled. "If you want to. I have a box for Neal's, if you want to get started on his."

They went into Peter's office, where two boxes sat on the floor behind the desk. Sara looked around the office. Neal's fedora was still on the desk, beside the picture of Peter and Elizabeth on vacation. Sara picked up the fedora.

"I should return this to June," she said.

Elizabeth nodded. "Probably. I wonder if she'll try and give those clothes away again."

"I wouldn't," murmured Sara. She swallowed at her slip of tongue, while Elizabeth picked up a box and placed it on the desk. "So," she said, trying to broach the subject as easily as possible. "How…how's everything going?" She managed to keep her face as straight as possible.

Elizabeth gave a small, tired smile. "Okay. And you?"

Sara shrugged. "I miss them. They were good friends to have around. But…well I wasn't married to Neal."

Elizabeth gave a slow nod, as if she could see right through Sara. And Sara wouldn't be surprised if she could; she had always known that Elizabeth was a perceptive woman.

"I see," said Elizabeth. "How about work?"

"It never ends," said Sara. She was assaulted by the memory of telling Neal that when he had brought her back home after her return to the living in their first case together. "What about you?"

"I went back this week," said Elizabeth. "Everyone said I should take off longer, but I couldn't find anything to do at home. And…it's easier when I have something to do. It takes my mind off the fact that he's not here."

Sara frowned a little, but not out of sadness, but more out of curiosity. The way Elizabeth said that he was gone—it was like Peter and Neal were just out of town for a while. Sara immediately felt pity towards Elizabeth. Perhaps she was more in denial than she could admit to anyone.

"Listen," said Sara, as she picked up the box for Neal's desk. "If you ever want to have lunch or something, let me know."

"Whenever I'm in your part of town, I'll call you," said Elizabeth. "Oh and your number is in Peter's phone so don't worry about that." She started putting Peter's things in the box.

Sara, slightly confused and worried for Elizabeth, juts nodded and went down to Neal's desk to get started.

()()()()()()

March 31, 2011

Munich, Germany

At that time, across the sea where the people were falling asleep, Neal and Peter were quite oblivious to work overload, floating wreckage, and O.P.R. investigations. Instead, they were waking up and getting ready for a night excursion.

After a week of tireless work of looking into every family named Adler, they had found something. It had taken persuading a bookish, older lady that they were German descendants from America and were looking into their family's past. After Neal charming her with his perfect German, and archaic Prussian manners, she had unveiled an ungodly amount of archives on all Adler families. Neal said it was much like looking for their friend who had skipped out from Ellis Island. Peter reminded him that this time there was no Sara to pass time with. Neal managed to blush only a little.

Neal had known that Adler's family had Munich roots after a thorough background check on his former boss while running the long con on him. Obviously, it hadn't been thorough enough, but there wasn't any time to dwell on that. They had found a match on a rather large and old house in Munich, one that had been in Vincent Adler's family for a few generations. Not sure what to expect, Neal and Peter had paid a visit to the house, only to find that it was abandoned; no one had lived in it since the 50s. After discreetly inquiring about it through an insurance agency, they found out that the family that had lived there moved to Switzerland those sixty years ago.

Still, Peter and Neal were intrigued enough to want to have a look inside. But they had no desire to make their faces—under the names Paul and Matthias or not—known to anyone who might be acquainted with the house. So, they were going in at night. Yes, they were going to break in.

With Neal around, that wasn't all that peculiar or unexpected. But what was funny about it was that Peter had gotten to it before Neal did.

"Well," he had said with almost a disappointed sigh. "I guess we'll just have to go in at night."

Neal had smiled, then chuckled, and then said that once they got home, everyone was going to hear about how Saint Peter Burke suggested they break into a house. Peter glowered and vowed to call him Matti. That was the end of that conversation.

At nine o'clock on the dot, they were leaving the little hostel they'd been calling home. When they reached the house, which was overgrown and mostly boarded up, they slipped to the back and Neal tried the door. It was still locked and since Germans built things to last, they'd have to pick it.

"Would you like the honors, sir," asked Neal.

Peter rolled his eyes. "I might as well get some practice."

Neal smiled as Peter took out the tools. "You really do enjoy this."

"It's something new."

"I think we should get serious about that bank robbing duo," said Neal. He stared into space and moved his hand along an invisible sign. "BRB."

Peter frowned and looked at him. "Be right back?"

"Bank Robbing Brothers," whispered Neal with fascination. Peter just shook his head and went back to the lock.

"I think you're enjoying this whole being brothers thing a little too much," remarked Peter.

Neal shrugged. "I've never had a brother before."

"So glad I was chosen," said Peter. The lock gave and he smiled.

"You're getting better," said Neal.

"Thanks, teach," said Peter as he opened the door. With a click of his heels and curt bow, he gestured dramatically. "After you, Herr Hartley."

"Danke," said Neal as he stepped inside. They flipped their flashlights on. Even the furniture was left behind.

"Wow," said Peter. "This is a nice place. Someone must still own it if they left so much of the furniture behind." With a gloved hand, he pulled a white sheet off a chair. A dust cloud rose up in his face.

"Maybe they were in a rush," said Neal.

"Running away from something," speculated Peter.

"Probably," said Neal. "I mean, they went to Switzerland, which is the best place to hide if you have money."

"I'm assuming that's where we're headed to next," said Peter as he shone his light up the staircase. "Hey, check it out. Pictures."

There was a row of pictures up the wall along the staircase. There were pictures of children mostly. Peter and Neal studied them closely. "This kind of looks like Adler," said Neal, about a young man around his twenties, dressed smartly in a German uniform. "Obviously, it's not, or Adler would look great for his age."

"Probably his father or an uncle," said Peter. He looked up the stairs. "So, we're looking for anything that might say something about where they went in Switzerland."

"Right," said Neal. "I'll take downstairs and you take upstairs."

"Got it."

They split ways and Neal went back into the foyer, looking at the pictures and paintings. He was surprised it was all still here; that nothing had been stolen after all these years. Someone was definitely keeping an eye on the place, which meant that they would have to move out of Munich fast. Hopefully they would find something that would point them in the direction in Switzerland. He went through the den and the kitchen and then the dining room. There was a salon—modernly known as a man cave—and finally a study. That was where he found some answers.

He raced upstairs, where he found Peter in one of the bedrooms, looking through a photo album.

"Check it out, Neal," said Peter. "I think I know where they went in Switzerland. We just have to find out where they took these pictures. It's from a vacation."

"Me too," said Neal. "Come downstairs."

They went downstairs into the study, where Neal gestured to the wall behind the desk. There was a large, detailed map of Luzern, Switzerland. All around it, there were framed pictures of the scenery of the village and its surrounding areas. Some included the family, while others were only reveling in the beauty of the mountains.

Peter pointed to one of the pictures. "There's a smaller version of this one in the photo album upstairs."

"Then that's only more proof," said Neal. "Unless you want more evidence?"

Peter frowned. "We're not trying to convict anyone…yet."

"Then let's get out of here," said Neal. "I say that tomorrow morning, we leave Munich."

"Something spook you," asked Peter, as they shut the door of the study behind them. They were leaving everything as they had found it.

"I think someone is watching over this place," said Neal. "And I don't know how well. I just think that we ought to get moving, is all. We've already been here a week."

Peter nodded. "Alright then. How's the weather in Switzerland?"

Before they left the next morning, they sent two postcards to the States.