(Chapter 4)
Neal remember little if anything of his kidnapping from the hotel room. He had passed into a kind of catatonic state, his body relaxed while his eyes were partially open and staring blankly ahead. There was a hint of light and dark and then mostly the latter as he felt himself placed inside something then a sound like muted thunder before silence surrounded him. He lay in the silence for some time before light hit him again and someone lifted him up and out of the place he had been. It was Chris.
He tried to open his mouth to speak but no sound came out. He was unable to communicate, lips only parting a little with a slight hint of air escaping when he tried. He heard laughter from the Count in the background. Chris didn't make a sound as he lay him on a bed or cot, Alex off to the side on another bed or cot as he turned his head and saw her lying there.
Alex... Alex wake up!
He wanted to talk but his body was still not responding but in small ways, eyes moving around slowly to see where his captors were. Chris hovered over him dangerously to his right. He could read his expression clearly. The man wanted him dead.
I'm sorry Chris. I didn't... mean to leave you there. Forgive me...
He hoped the man could read minds but that look remained, Rudolfe's voice evident in the background as it echoed eerily around them.
"Let them rest. Soon your friend here will perform his final task as a living person before he surrenders to us totally. Come along, Christophe."
Neal watched the two men start to leave, Chris stopping briefly to stare at Alex with an almost longing look before Rudolfe's tone called him with a more annoyed manner. The dead thief turned to go, glaring one last time at Neal before they left them alone.
He felt tired, trying to move but noticing something stuck to his arm he hadn't seen. There was an IV hooked up there as was one to Alex. It was a slow drip but he felt the warmth begin to enter him again, filling his body with relaxed thoughts, eyes starting to roll back. He wanted to stay awake but he couldn't as the drug filled his bloodstream and all he could do was pass out. His mind started to dream, lucid images as if he were awake filling his mind as he lay there.
Neal saw himself walking as if in a trance, distanced from the scene as he found himself entering the Burke home through the backdoor after dark. The lights were on on the first floor but it was quiet. The agent on duty was in the corner slumped over, a coffee cup nearby. He felt himself smiling, moving past the sleeping agent up the stairs and down a short hallway to a door just ahead and to his right.
"Peter... honey is that you?"
He was quiet, moving to the door to open it up when he saw the knob turn on its own. He backed into the shadows, behind another door, waiting as a figure came out. It was Elizabeth Burke, her face worried as she walked out into the hallway.
"Peter? Agent Halloway?"
She started down the short hallway to the stairs as he watched her disappear downwards and gasp as she found the agent unconscious and drugged. He felt himself smile, moving quietly towards the stairs and down as he heard her move to the kitchen and out of earshot.
"Yes... the agent is unconscious. Someone drugged him. I heard someone in the house. Please hurry!"
He was already closer to her than she knew as she turned at the creak of a floor board, scared but suddenly very relieved.
"Neal? Thank goodness! What... how did you get here?"
()()()
Peter had spent the past three days looking for Neal. The con had disappeared like the dead man Christophe Dupris who had nearly run them both down. Something was hinky here and he was going to find out what if it was the last thing he did. They had searched all of the Waldorf for Neal and found no sign of him or his friend, Alex Hunter. Hughes had showed up with the warrant for the penthouse suite much to his delight as they headed up to serve it. What they found was not as great.
"Yes, I am the Count du Rudolfe but I have never heard of this Rebecca Chartres or Christophe Dupris. Why do you bother me with such nonsense? I am a diplomat!"
Peter was adamant on searching the premises, Hughes doing his best to soothe things as he explained the situation. The man seemed truly ignorant of what they spoke of but he allowed the FBI to search his rooms with him present, finding nothing.
"I will be reporting this intrusion to your government and my local consulate. I hope you are ready to deal with the lawsuit?"
The man was genuinely angry if nothing else and both Peter and Hughes realized the man they were looking for had lied to Neal and his friends. This made it so much harder to track the actual culprit if he wasn't the Count du Rudolfe. They would have to find out who he was and if the hotel staff had seen him. They had no idea what this man looked like but he had ties to Christophe Dupris. The agents left with many apologies to the man and more headaches than answers.
"That was the name he gave me. I know Neal wasn't lying, I looked up the man myself. He showed up in town the day those presents arrived and Alex vanished. Reese... there's something else going on here."
The older agent nodded but frowned.
"Until you know what it is, stay in the office. I'm going to have enough headaches with this international incident we might be facing. Get me something to fix this so I don't have to bench you, Peter."
It had not been a great week, and no info on anything was making this so much harder. Peter needed an in to fix this for their department and to find the man who actually had Neal and Alex. They had found a possible answer to Christophe's disappearance but no cameras had taken footage and there were no witnesses to prove that had been the way he'd taken. It was a start but not enough to convict unless they wanted to dig up a dead man who's grave they had yet to find, and a false Count with a grudge against his consultant and Alex.
Peter sighed tiredly. He was late at the office, an agent staying with his wife just in case Neal showed up there when Jones came up with a strange look on his face.
"Peter... you might want to listen to what Diana just picked up over the scanner."
Peter moved out of his office and downstairs to where his team was sitting around listening intently to what sounded like a hostage situation.
"We have the home surrounded but he's not coming out."
There was a squeal of feedback and static before another voice cut in.
"He hasn't said anything about demands but he has a hostage. Yes... Elizabeth Burke. We're waiting for a negotiator now."
Peter's eyes widened in horror.
"I... did they say Elizabeth's name? Jones, come with me. Diana... call Hughes. I'm going to see what's going on. Keep me informed."
Diana nodded as he picked up his phone and dialed home. The phone didn't picked up, finally going to voice mail.
"You've reached the Burke residence. Please leave a message at the beep."
He was panicked as he waited for the elevator to get to the lobby.
"El, it's Peter. Pick up. El?"
He waited but nobody picked up. He was about to hang up when he heard a sound on the other end and a voice he barely recognized answered.
"Pe... ter?"
It was El, her voice choking with terror as he tried to imagine what was going on. He hoped it was for reasons other than those on that police scanner.
"El, hon... what's going on? Are you ok? Can you bring Agent Halloway to the phone?"
Her breath came in ragged frightened gasps as he waited for her to answer. They had reached the lobby and he was running for his car with Jones in tow as they made it to the garage and jumped into the car.
"Ne... Ne... al. He's not... some... thing's wrong."
He heard her gasp as if someone had hurt her, his heart wrenching. Jones offered to drive as they changed seats and finally took off. It seemed to be taking too long to get home even this late at night.
"Put Neal on the phone, El. Tell him it's me."
He heard her voice shaking in the background and then a gasp again as if she's been hurt, something in him wanting to hit the person doing it but wondering how it could be Neal. He wasn't violent.
"He won't talk... he's just, staring. He has a gun, Peter. I don't know..."
The call hung up, Peter cursing as he tried to call back but had another call coming in.
"Burke..."
It was Hughes asking what the hell was going on at his home. Peter told him he was almost there, Jones driving them into a mess of SWAT and Police cars flashing blue and red around his block. They managed to park and he flashed his badge to get to the front of the mess, telling them it was his home. Capt. Shaddock was there thankfully, the man letting him get to the front of the lines and use the megaphone.
"NEAL... It's Peter. I'm coming in to talk."
The cops and Jones were his backup as he moved forward, hands up to show he was unarmed. He walked through the door and saw for himself the scene he never thought he'd see.
"Pe... ter?"
El's voice wavered but he gave her a comforting smile as he turned his attention to Neal and waved off the cops just outside the back door. He pulled out his gun slowly, showing it to the con before he lay it on the coffee table, hands still up and moved closer.
"Neal... you don't want to do this. Tell me what's wrong. Put the gun down and we can talk."
He was watching his partner, the man he thought he knew, a cold look in those blue eyes but something else. They were glassy and staring off into the distance as if he had been drugged. Something wasn't right here.
"Neal... TALK to me. This isn't you. You don't want to hurt Elizabeth. She's your friend."
He saw a flicker of something in those eyes but it soon disappeared and someone else was there pulling the strings. Neal cocked the gun he had pushed up against his wife's temple, a determined look on his face.
"Change has to happen. Can't trust... any... one."
Peter felt his heart about to stop, the words forced from his friend's lips but not his own. Someone was controlling his partner but how to stop this.
"Neal... they're going to shoot you. You don't like guns. Remember? This isn't you. You're not like this. Don't let them control you."
He saw that flicker of something there, the young man blinking as he looked at him a moment with something resembling Neal Caffrey. There was a confusion there, eyes looking at the hand holding the gun to El's head as he pulled away and Peter made a motion for El to run to him. She did, rushing into her husband's arms before two officers led her away. Peter was alone with Neal now in his living room, holding up a hand to the officers and SWAT to let him keep up with his negotiating. Neal's face was full of conflict, one hand rubbing at his temples as if in pain.
"Voice... his voice is talking to me, Peter. Telling me... Changing... I'm... I..."
Peter was moving closer, hand held out.
"Give me the gun, Neal. El's safe. You're safe. We can deal with the voice now. Talk to me."
Neal continued to be in pain it seemed, eyes squinting against some ache in his head before he looked up with those bright blue eyes and stared coldly back at the agent.
"Change has to happen, Peter. I can't be... your... lapdog. I... I have to... end this... now."
The young man's voice had turned cold and firm, the gun pointing right at Peter as Neal pulled back on the trigger. He saw the officers and SWAT ready to shoot as he called out for them to wait. One sniper shot as Neal pulled the trigger. Peter waited for the shot to hit him in the heart, the gun pointed there but he saw Neal's hand move up higher as the bullet nicked his shoulder, grazing him. The con had purposely tried to miss him as the sniper's bullet caught Neal in the side, his partner going down to the ground before him.
"NEAL!"
Peter was at his side despite his shoulder wound, hands trying to pull him from the con who had become more than just his ward but a good friend. Those blue eyes saw the blood on Peter's shoulder and widened in horror, lips moving ever so quietly as he moved closer to hear.
"Tried... to... to miss. Could... n't do... it."
He saw the blood pouring from the wound in Neal's side, doing his best to stop it but the young man was fading fast, eyes losing their light as they rolled back and he was pulled away. Medics came in to look at his shoulder while another pair checked Neal.
"You've been hit, Agent Burke. I need to wrap this..."
He tried to push the medics away as he saw them work on Neal. He wasn't to blame for this. Someone had caused the con to do this as he moved to be closer, those eyes finally closing, as his partner's body relaxed and went limp. There was something wet and warm in his eyes as he watched his friend's body shut down.
"Losing pulse... no respiration... we're losing him!"
He was waiting for them to say Neal was ok but they had tried to resuscitate the con without result. Peter felt a pain in his chest as they pronounced the young man dead and pulled a sheet over him.
"Time of death was at 9:15 PM."
It wasn't true. Neal wasn't... he didn't do this! This was some kind of horrible nightmare and Peter was going to wake up. He kept waiting to wake up but he was led outside following the medics carrying the sheet covered form of his friend, Elizabeth waiting by the ambulance with a blanket around her. She saw the look on his face and then notice the covered stretcher.
"Peter? Where's Neal?"
Despite what happened, his wife was worried for their young friend. She was resilient like himself, her eyes going to the cloth covered stretcher. Peter didn't want her to know or see but El had already moved over and pulled the sheet aside, face paling. He wrapped her in his arms as she reached for the dead Neal Caffrey, tears rolling down her cheeks.
"Neal?"
The medics covered their friend up again, taking the body into the coroner's van as Peter held his wife and felt her body quivering in his arms as she cried and he tried to be strong for her. His own cheeks were warm with wet tears as they watched the van closed and their friend taken away. Someone moved closer to them and he saw it was Jones and Capt. Shaddock.
"Boss? What just happened?"
Peter had no answers as he found a place for them to sit, a blanket wrapped around his wife as the medics tried to dress his shoulder wound. Jones tried to shoo them away but Peter shook his head, removing his jacket as the medic worked on the graze. Shaddock looked at him with a pitying glance.
"I'm sorry, Burke. I know... he was your partner. I've already called Reese. He's on his way."
He didn't know what to say but to nod his head in shock. Neal was dead and he had tried to shoot him, hitting him on the shoulder. But those last words. Neal had tried to talk to him with his last words. He didn't understand what he said but if it took him a lifetime he would find out why his friend had done what he had. It hadn't been on purpose, Peter knew that much.
"Leave us alone... Jones, Call Diana. I..."
He couldn't talk but Jones understood as they sat there in shock at what had happened. This couldn't be happening. Neal Caffrey didn't use guns and he didn't take his friends hostage. Someone had set this up and it had to do with Christophe Dupris and the fake Count du Rudolfe. He looked up to see the drugged Agent Halloway being carried out to an ambulance. The agent was staring to wake up slowly as Peter watched them carry him to the bus and put him inside. He wondered if the agent knew anything.
"Peter... that wasn't Neal. He wouldn't... do that to us. This is a bad dream, right? We're going to wake up."
She was staring ahead in shock, body still trembling in his grasp as he tried to hide his own fear and dread. He couldn't speak but he nodded, pressing his cheek to hers gently as they sat there and tried to figure out how to wake up from such a horrible nightmare.
()()()
Neal woke up with a gasp, his mind blank as to where he was or how. He remembered seeing Peter crouched over him, worried and tired looking. He was begging him to stay and hold on but he didn't understand why. Everything was shutting down, his body turning cold as he finally felt himself fading into the darkness.
It was pitch black or he was blind but as he shifted his body, he felt the sides of the container that held him and a strong scent of pine. His mind was confused about what had happened as he tried to sit up and found the box was just big enough to hold him. The sides were wood by the feel, rough and splintery, his finger catching a small bit of wood in his finger making him wince as he gasped for air and blinked in the Stygian gloom.
Help...
Some... one
Help...
He couldn't speak, the darkness and something else suffocating him as he pushed up on the wooden lid to whatever box he was stuffed into. It didn't budge, his mind starting to imagine something out of a nightmare as he heard a gasp from his lips and finally a strangled cry.
"He... lp."
He felt something fall through as he hit the top of the box and realized it was dirt. He wanted to scream but his throat was tight as he beat on the lid and knew someone had buried him alive.
Let me out!
Someone...
Please...
He kicked and beat at the sides till he was exhausted, fingers sore from clawing at the lid and his chest tight. The air felt thinner and he was growing tired as even in the darkness he felt his eyes roll back. A voice spoke from the somewhere inside his head he thought, a hand gently caressing his hair.
It's ok dear Nicholaus... you're safe. Listen to my voice.
He fought against the fear that ate at him as the voice spoke. There was something insidious about it he couldn't place why as he twitched in semi-consciousness.
Rest the sleep of the dead. Change is upon you.
He felt his head pushed to one side, neck bared and something pricked his skin. Slowly his body relaxed and he felt his heart slowing to a mere beat or two, breath growing shallow as the voice continued.
Rest... Nicholaus... rest...
His body obeyed although he tried to fight the darkness, heart stopping as he felt coldness and then what could only be death.
()()()
When Neal woke up next he remembered nothing. His mind was blank of anything and everything. On the wall sat a calendar with a date circled. It was today's date but that was impossible! If that was today's date then... then he had lost a week!
He seemed to be in an office, a nice one with a desk made of what seemed to be walnut. The con lay on the floor, staring up suddenly aware of that sensation as he sat up and felt the world kind of spin around him. He moved towards a wastepaper basket and threw up in it. His body ached but he didn't understand why as he crawled away from the basket and tried to stand. A sharp pain hit him in the side as he looked down to see red on his hands and something dark staining his already dark clothing.
His mouth opened to speak but nothing came out, his lips dry and cracked as he swallowed hard and tried to think. Where was he? Why was he here? Who had shot him? He managed to stay on his feet, reaching for a pitcher of water on the desk as he sipped from it greedily. Neal felt like he hadn't drank or eaten in days, his eyes spying a jar of candy and quickly grabbing up a few of the morsels to chug them down hungrily. It made his stomach feel a bit better but not by much as he stumbled towards the door and heard a voice.
"He's around here somewhere. Find him!"
That didn't sound good and he was bleeding. Were they were looking for him? He didn't want to find out as he glanced around and found a vent near the floor behind the desk just out of sight. He might fit in there if he could open it fast enough.
"Try the office..."
He heard them open up the door as he pulled the vent back in and hid inside the wall duct. He held his breath, pain pulsing up his side but he had to be quiet or they'd find him. It was only a minute and they were gone, closing the door behind them. He stayed in the duct moving around till he could crawl slowly but painfully down the narrow tunnel hoping for a way out. Neal wasn't sure how he got to where he was, hoping he could contact Peter and get word to him. His memory was fuzzy but he remembered being with the agent at the office a week back then...
"He can't have gotten far. I saw traces of blood in the office. Soren wants to be sure he's still viable and if he's not... bury him."
Neal knew they were talking about him as he passed another vent and heard the voices speaking in a hallway outside. His strength was waning quickly but he had to get away and find Peter. The agent would know what to do. The con kept crawling till he heard street sounds and realized the vent had led him to an outside fan. The blades weren't running so he kicked it out as best he could and escaped into the alley, limping along until he found himself out on the street. It was early morning, a sign indicating it was 2 AM. What was he doing running around at that hour? He glanced down and saw he no longer had his anklet on which meant he had either been on assignment by Peter or...
His mind refused to tell him anything beyond his last big meeting with Peter. He'd been on the roof talking to Mozzie about something when Peter had snuck up on him.
"Peter..."
Neal was like a deer in headlights and totally unprepared for this.
"Mozzie helping you with the case details, Neal? I didn't realize this was such an interesting file. Mind filling me in?"
Neal licked his lips, a mistake he shouldn't have made because Peter's brow arched as an angry look appeared on his face. The agent suspected something but what, he wasn't sure.
"You never hesitate, Neal. Spit it out! There must be a reason this theft interests you. Don't lie to me..."
He had looked at the agent and finally answered but he was sure it wasn't going to be helpful to the case.
"I might have known a man who used a similar style. Very accomplished cat burglar if I might say so."
Peter rolled his eyes but motioned for him to continue.
"This is his style most definitely but he's not our suspect. Has to be a copy cat..."
He'd been certain it was someone copying his friend, knowing beyond a doubt his friend couldn't do this job. He heard a cough, his attention back on the agent.
"Why are you so certain it's not this 'man' you may have known? Neal, there's something you're not telling me."
Neal swallowed hard remembering that night and knowing it was one of the few jobs that still haunted his nightmares.
"Peter... it can't be him. He's dead. Trust me, I was there."
Neal's mind fade back to reality, the pain in his side bothering him more than he realized. It looked like an old wound that had never been taken care of and had reopened. He was glad his clothes were black as he felt around for money but found none. He went into a 24 hour drug store trying not to stick out as he moved to the bandages and grabbed what he needed, leaving the store without anyone the wiser. He found a doorway that was open and slipped inside. It wasn't the best side of town so he went down the hall till he found a door that was obviously not used. He picked the lock as best he could and went inside. The place was empty but there were signs someone did live there, a phone on the kitchen counter and a lamp off in the corner.
Neal found a bathroom and pulled off his jacket, sweater and tee as he looked at the wound. It was a gun shot wound, red and angry looking as he turned on the water and got it hot enough to clean the wound out so he could put the stuff he stole on it. He found some pain meds in the cabinet which were still good and took one before he went to the main room and tried the phone. It worked. He waited tiredly as the line rang, listening to the hallway outside in case anyone found out he was there. The apartment was ratty at best, with newspapers scattered around as if the people had left in a hurry or didn't care about the filth. Neal leaned on the counter to take the weight off his hurt side as the phone finally picked up.
"Burke... How did you get this number?"
Peter's voice was testy with sleep, something he was familiar with and glad to hear. He swallowed hard to speak, throat dry and sore.
"Pe... ter."
He could spit out little else, quiet on the line making him think he had lost the call when a gasp made him jump.
"Whoever you are. This isn't funny. I'm a Federal agent. I will track this call."
Neal wet his lips before trying to speak again.
"It's... me... Peter."
There was silence again but then a sound of another voice in the background before he heard movement and a door shut.
"It can't be. You're... I'm tracing this call. Whoever you are, stay put and expect me and several Federal agents to be at your address in the next few minutes. (Honey who's that on the phone?)"
He heard Elizabeth in the background, the sound of a door opening up and footsteps. He felt a smile on his lips.
"Trace it, Peter. I don't know where I am. I'll be outside waiting."
He heard the agent huff as he heard the agent moving around, walking somewhere inside their home.
Neal was just happy to be found, forgetting what had happened to him as he looked outside at the gloom and knew his friend would soon come for him.
"Peter... I've lost a week. I can't remember anything."
He heard a huff then a click as the call dropped and he hung up the phone. Peter didn't believe he was him but he didn't understand why. His mind was a blank other than the day he told him about Chris and waking up in that office bleeding. His side still ached despite the pill, his head a bit fuzzy from it as he moved out of the apartment and back out to the stoop. It was a cool night but he would survive, his head leaning on the stone railing as he closed his eyes and waited. Everything would be fine once Peter showed up. Everything...
()()()
Five days ago:
Peter had had the worse week ever since Neal had been shot. Elizabeth was far from consolable, Mozzie had come by and blamed him for what happened to Neal then promptly disappeared, while June had stopped by with her condolences, the woman looking more depressed than himself or El. Hughes had put the agent on administrative leave till the investigation was finished, Capt. Shaddock explaining Peter's role in getting Neal to release his wife. There was no blame but considering the circumstances and Caffrey being a con, nobody was willing to do much to look into the situation despite Peter's pleas for a full investigation. They knew Neal had been kidnapped but the higher ups were trying to say it must have been some kind of a ploy for the con to run if not get revenge on Peter who had put him on work release. It made no sense to him but to those above him they wanted their hands clean of the situation and Neal Caffrey for good.
To make matters worse, when Peter and El had gone to see Neal's body in the morgue, they were told there had been a mistake in the system and his body had been cremated already. All they had were ashes to bury, the jar still sitting on his mantle in the living room below. They had not been able to find the time or will to bury their friend even in that form, their mourning far from over. The hospital had apologized for the mistake, taking full responsibility. It didn't help things but at least they had Neal with them forever now. He could cause no more trouble in this form, Peter not finding the thought of any comfort. If Mozzie would come out of hiding they would ask him what Neal would have wanted but the con had vanished off the map.
El had finally gone back to work, her manner less than enthusiastic, their conversations quiet and hushed as they stared at the jar on the mantle and knew they still felt as if Neal Caffrey were haunting them. Maybe he was in a way but Peter could do little about it but curse under his breath and feel helpless. He had seen his friend die and for the moment he was still on leave and unable to do anything to find the people who had done this. No personal research into the fake Count Rudolfe had brought up any names or faces to pin the original kidnapping on. Neal had been taken, drugged and Alex was still out there maybe with those people if she hadn't been killed as well. She had been lost in the shuffle of things, their mystery dead man in the sports car untraceable. He rolled over in bed and tried not to think about the case but it haunted his mind waking and asleep.
"Burke... How did you get this number?"
His phone had rung, the time on the clock after 2 am. He couldn't think who'd be calling him at this hour when he was still on leave. The number wasn't one he recognized when his sleepy mind finally looked at the cellphone screen.
"Pe... ter."
That voice... he must be asleep. Peter sat up in bed pinching himself as he tried his best not to wake El but heard her start to murmur. He thought this had to be a joke, threatening the person by telling them he was a Federal agent. The person continued, their voice so much like Neal's it had to be him but it couldn't be. Neal was dead! He finally got up, left the room and talked to them to make sure he heard the voice clearly and knew he was awake. At some point he had to call Jones, hanging up the call as he apologized for waking up his junior agent.
"Neal? But... Peter you're dreaming right? It's after 2 AM. You have his ashes over your mantle."
He knew that was true and yet...
"Call Diana. I want to be certain who this is and why. There must be a reason they called. It may have something to do with Neal's death and the disappearance of his friend, Alexandria Hunter. She's still missing."
Peter heard the other agent grunt sleepily as they hung up and went to search for the number on his computer. El had peeked out just before his call with the supposed Neal Caffrey had ended. She was watching him now as he went downstairs and turned on his laptop.
"Honey, tell me what's going on. It's barely 2:30 am and you're acting strangely. Did you have a bad dream? Why did you call Jones?"
He didn't want to answer a bunch of questions, his eyes moving to the mantle a moment before going through the trace program and finding the name for the number.
"They're in Hell's Kitchen. Tenement off the main road. Honey... I'll tell you everything once I know the story. I just... I have to do this. I'm sorry I woke you. It's probably nothing."
There was a part of him that hoped what he'd heard was true. It had only been a week but he had seen his friend and partner die, the coroner giving them a death certificate. If Neal was alive... but he couldn't be. He had to go and prove this was a hoax if anything. Someone was fooling with them. That's all it was and he was going to prosecute them to the fullest.
"I'll call you once this is done. I promise."
He heard a car pull up outside and a knock on the door soon after. He told El to answer the door while he ran up to change, the voices of a sleepy Jones and Diana wafting upwards.
"He's upstairs getting dressed. He was tracing some number. I don't know what's going on. You're as much in the dark as I am."
El's voice was clear as he started back down the stairs in jeans and a tan polo shirt. Peter grabbed up his jacket, hugged and kissed her before he and his team headed out.
"Be careful, Peter."
He smiled back at her before she closed and locked the door and they took off. Diana was sitting in front with Jones, Peter in the back as they headed out in one car.
"Boss, it's 2:30 in the morning. Why are we up again? Jones wasn't very clear. Something about a clue to Caffrey's death?"
She said it very matter of fact but they were all very tired so emotion wasn't as easily noticed in their voices. He nodded with a sigh.
"Someone called telling me they were Neal. I think it has to do with his death. We'll park around the corner and go find the person and see what they know. The strange thing is... it sounded just like him."
He couldn't help but think it was Neal but how could it be? He saw Jones nod as he drove the car.
"What's the address?"
Peter told him the street number the tracer program had given him as they headed to Hell's Kitchen and parked just around the block. Peter was the only one without a gun, the other agents going ahead of him. They noticed a person on the stoop of the building as they came around the side. The person was sitting in shadow, leaning against the stone railing tiredly. Peter tried to ID them but they were still too far to see who it was as Jones and Diana took the lead.
"Boss... stay behind us!"
Diana took the lead, moving in closer when he heard her gasp and crouch beside the figure on the steps. Jones came a bit closer ready for a fight when he took gave a little gasp. Something was wrong but Peter didn't know what till he saw both Diana and Jones put their guns away and stare at the figure curiously. Diana was checking for a pulse it seemed, her hand gently nudging the figure without result.
"What's up? Who is it?"
Peter had finally moved close enough he could see the figure for who they were. His legs grew weak and he thought he might faint when he saw their face. Their eyes were closed, body relaxed as they sat slumped against the railing but it was obvious who he was looking at. It was the one and only Neal Caffrey.
()()()
Neal felt a hand touching his neck, voices speaking as if from far away as he finally opened up his eyes and gazed up at three blurry forms. He knew them, his lips curling up into a relieved smile.
"Diana? Jones... Peter?"
He felt secure suddenly, his smile fading as he started to pass out. Someone caught him. A jacket placed warmly over him the last thing he felt.