(Chapter 7)
Neal was only slightly aware of being moved from one pair of hands to another, Chris' face blurry but obvious as he was taken by two goons. The con watched him impassively, turning away as they disappeared around a corner. This place seemed familiar to him although he wasn't sure why. Flashes of memory made him twitch in the arms of his captors as they carried him along the corridor and finally cut him loose. He slumped in their grasp, muffled sounds escaping his gagged lips as they lifted him up and into something wooden. His hands languidly scraped the sides of the container, eyes looking up and around at the blurry ceiling above.
Don't... bury me!
He was remembering now. He had been shot by the FBI SWAT team. Peter had been trying to talk to him about something. His hand was gripping someone tightly beside him...
I'm... not dead! Don't...
Neal started to struggled but they pushed the cover over the top trapping him in darkness. His lips were still taped shut, muffling his yells as he pushed up weakly at the lid. He thought he heard the sound of the lid hammered down and dirt being dropped onto the top of the lid, a feeling like he was being slowly lowered into the ground. Neal yanked the tape from his lips and yelled, calling out for mercy, eyes wide in the darkness. He was banging on the lid, something gritty falling through the cracks of what smelled like a pine coffin. There was no lining, the wood roughly hewn as he felt splinters catch his skin.
"Let me... out! I'm alive!"
He felt himself starting to hyperventilate, body stressing out as he felt the coffin shudder and shake as it hit what felt like the bottom of the hole they had dug. They were burying him, his heart beating too fast as if it would pop out of his rib cage. Neal clawed at the lid but it was hammered shut as he screamed and yelled, throat growing hoarse and dry. The air felt as if it were growing thinner, his body slumping back finally against the rough wood of the box as he started to give in. He was dying but he had already died.
Nicholaus...
Neal shook his head trying not to listen but that voice was there in his thoughts.
Listen Nicholaus. Hear my voice and listen.
He fought but the stress and lack of air made him weak. His body started to relax, growing stiff as death washed over him again. He didn't want to die. Neal felt his eyes start to roll back in his head. The voice kept talking, low monotonous tones that breached his mind and pushed back the barriers till he was nodding in agreement with what it said. Neal Caffrey was dead and Nicholaus DeCarres sprung from where the ashes were.
Wake Nicholaus. You know what your task was. Find me the item and bring it to me.
He was nodding silently, licking his lips as eyes rolled forward again to find himself looking up at the ceiling above. Light danced there above him in a heavenly fashion, drawing his gaze and hypnotizing him. Nicholaus sat up and gazed around, his clothes exchanged for white robes. He was reborn, a new set of clothes beside him. He had to get ready. He knew what it was he had lost and where to find it.
()()()
Peter spoke quietly with the Count du Rudolfe, the man having agreed to call in Andre Sorenson so they could catch him in the act. Sorenson was supposed to bring back a valuable necklace the Count had thought was in his office but now said it was out for its annual cleaning and appraisal. Rudolfe knew better but he asked his assistant to come have a meeting to look over the ledger of all items in his possession. It was time for their annual accounting, a good excuse as any to tip Sorenson's hand Peter thought as they hid agents around the Count's offices downtown and waited for the man arrive.
The Count sat at his desk flipping through a log book that caught Peter's interest as he stood off to the side of the door. He was the only agent who would be present during the meeting for obvious reasons, the other agents outside disguised as office workers or visitors to the building. They were ready if Sorenson tried anything much less ran. Peter was thinking about what to do, his gun hidden underneath his jacket. Hughes had Jones bring his service revolver and badge back to him quietly while he entertained Mozzie at his home. He felt safer for having it but nervous at the same time. He wanted to find Neal but was afraid of what might have happened to him in the meanwhile. The con had not been himself the more he started to remember past the drug induced haze. There was no blame, just worry as he shifted slightly where he stood. The Count looked up at him with a curious expression.
"Sit, Agent Burke. You're making me nervous just watching you."
Peter didn't realize the man had been watching him, only the two of them in the office as he complied with the Count's wishes and took a seat before the desk. The seat was leather and quite comfortable but he was still feeling twitchy. He just had a feeling something was off. The Count sighed.
"Cognac? It always helps me when I'm tense."
The Count turned in his chair towards a small silver tray of crystal decanters, pulled the stopper off a thin bottle and started to pour two glasses before Peter held up a hand.
"My thanks Count but I'm on duty."
He saw the look on the man's face, the same expression Hughes gave him when he was insistent Peter do something.
"Take the glass Agent Burke. Drink it or not but I think just one sip won't hurt you."
Peter nodded as he took the proffered glass and leaned back in the chair. He wasn't much of a liquor aficionado as his partner was but he'd had cognac before. Strong and sweet from what he recalled. He sniffed it tentatively before taking a small sip. It was pleasantly dry with a hint of fruitiness he hadn't expected. The Count smiled at him as if noticing his surprise.
"Family brand from our private distillery. I can offer you a bottle or two if you like..."
Peter nodded with a smile thinking about Neal liking this kind of thing or June. At least he hoped to give the present to Neal, a small frown forming on his lips at the thought of his partner.
"You're worried about your friend. I was talking to your superior about this case. I'm sorry for the problems my assistant has caused you and my behavior to you the other day. My deepest apologies, Agent Burke."
The Count had bowed his head to him in respect, Peter doing the same back as two jade green eyes met his. The man had a certain bearing to him beyond the pompous diplomat he'd met only a week ago.
"No apologies necessary. Your help is more than enough."
Peter felt his phone buzz in his pocket, excusing himself as he pulled it out and saw the text there.
Sorenson is IN the building.
Peter texted back an affirmative as he smiled ever so slightly, clearing his throat.
"Looks like we're up. Sorenson is here."
()()()
Nicholaus was dressed in all black but stylishly so, leaving the room with the sparkling lights and voice that told him exactly what he had to do. He stepped into a dull metal gray hallway where he saw another figure stepping out across the hall. The man turned and looked at him with cold eyes, motioning for him to follow.
"Cat got your tongue?"
He was smirking at the man who stiffened at the remark turning to push him hard against the wall. There were no words, just the hint of breath as lips moved in a silent phrasing he could only just make out. Nick felt the man release him when he nodded.
"So I guess you're the tall, silent type. Understood. You're going to help me get back what Soren wants?"
The man didn't reply right away, finally turning and nodding with a glare as they exited the building into the bright sunlight of the afternoon. Shadows crossed the city where buildings blocked the low sitting sun. A car was waiting for them, the man sitting in the driver's seat as Nick took the passenger side. He continued to smirk which seemed to irritate the man helping him. Nick was having fun being bad, a feeling he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before.
"Let's get this show on the road!"
()()()
Peter started to stand but the Count motioned for him to continue sitting. There was a certain finesse to the man he started to understand as he nodded, cognac in hand as he leaned back and relaxed if only for the act of pretending to be so. The Count smiled as they understood each other, a knock coming from outside. Peter watched the man act as if they were just visiting as he spoke up clear and resounding.
"Come in."
The Count began to flip through the ledger from earlier again as if he hadn't stopped. Peter pushed the tenseness away from him as much as he could with another small sip of cognac. The stuff was strong but it was definitely helping with the nervousness. He heard footsteps behind him, wanting to turn but seeing the Count look up only quick enough to stop Peter from doing it as he remained leaning back and supposedly relaxed in the seat at the desk. There was a hesitation and cough behind him, Sorenson he guessed noticing the Count had a guest.
"I didn't mean to interrupt your meeting, Sir. I can come back another time..."
Andre Sorenson sounded less than enthusiastic to be there but Peter saw the poker face on the Count as he smiled up at the man in a manner that would make Hughes' scary smile pale in comparison. He fought the urge to turn, swirling the cognac in his glass as if he were going to drink it. He heard another cough as he saw the Count give him a tiny wink before addressing his assistant.
"Andre... you're not interrupting at all. I wanted to go over the ledgers with you this afternoon. There were a few things I needed to have prepared for an up and coming function."
Peter heard silence behind him but then a kind of choking cough as Sorenson moved closer to the back of his chair. The man sounded nervous but the agent didn't turn around yet.
"Yes sir... I didn't realize you had a function so soon. I must have missed that in your appointment books. I'll get on it right away."
The Count continued to smile, making a motion towards Peter as he spoke again.
"I didn't interrupt any business you were doing on my behalf, did I? I have a guest here to help us make sure there are no problems. Shall we get started?"
Peter turned to face the man he had only seen a picture of up till now. He looked up at the man who had taken his partner and hurt him and had Alex, wherever she might be. They had yet to find her but first they had to get him to speak. So far the man was turning paler as he stared at the agent and then back at the Count.
"Andre, this is Agent Peter Burke. He's here to help me solve some discrepancies I found in one of the ledgers. Would you mind coming over here and seeing what I mean."
Peter held out his hand but Andre only made the act of reaching for it before moving away, towards his boss as if from a ghost. He was definitely spooked. This might be a good thing. He watched the man stand by the Count and nervously move his glance from Peter to the book on the table.
"This necklace. It says it's out for cleaning and appraisal. Is it back yet?"
The Count held his tone civilly with only a hint of knowing in it. Sorenson was sweating with only just the little bit of push they'd given. This was going to be easier than Peter thought as he sat back down and pretended to sip from the glass in his hand. Andre nodded slowly.
"I have men picking it up as we speak. It should be back at any moment, Sir."
The Count nodded, looking quickly at Peter before he glanced up from the book to the man beside him.
"Andre... haven't I always been good to you? Why did you steal from me and lie about it?"
Sorenson stiffened, hands clenching at his sides.
"Sir... I don't understand. I've done everything you asked. I've never sto..."
The Count held up a hand dismissively, pointing at the book.
"This is not the real ledger. You've been, what's the term they use here in American Agent Burke?"
Peter sat up trying to act as casually as he could, glass still in hand.
"Cooking the books."
The man smiled and nodded.
"Yes, cooking the books. If I wanted a chef, I'd have hired one. I did not hire you for your artful cuisine Andre but your dependability. I am learning things about you I didn't want to know. Now... you will tell me where my late wife's necklace is with Agent Burke as witness. It was in my desk under my own care barely 2 weeks ago. I never sent you to clean or appraise it. Don't make this any harder than it is, Andre."
Peter was watching the man now, Sorenson looking more nervous than Mozzie in a room full of Feds. He could see the agitation there, the sudden wild eye movements as the man opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He was being indecisive if anything. Andre knew he had been found out but he was in shock it seemed.
"Sir... I..."
Peter could feel the man giving in when suddenly Andre pulled out a gun and held the weapon to the Count's temple. They had not anticipated this considering the intel they had on him. Perhaps they had underestimated Sorenson, Peter on his feet with his hands up as he moved to the door.
"Don't think about it, Agent Burke. You interfered with my schemes too much for me not to kill you if not the Count. Lock the door!"
The Agent complied, locking the door but hoping that everything was being taped as they had planned. He just hoped Hughes overlooked the cognac bit as he continued with his hands up and moved away from the door as the man waved a hand at him to sit back down.
"We're going to be civil while we wait. I have someone bring the necklace back. That will fix everything."
The Count shifted slightly where he stood next to his assistant, a look on his face as he glanced at Peter then spoke to Sorenson.
"Returning the necklace is not the only theft you performed, Andre. I've heard rumors that you pretended to be me."
Peter watched as the attention went from him back to the Count as he quietly shifted towards the door.
"You don't understand..."
The Count clucked his tongue, a fatherly frown on his face. The man was going to play what cards he could to distract as Peter moved closer to the door.
"I understand perfectly. Servants must know their place and you didn't. What other indiscretions have you performed in my name, Andre? Theft? Lying? Kidnapping?"
Andre had the gun but he was no longer holding it on the Count as he looked more like a boy discovered by his father playing hooky. Peter was already unlocking the door when Sorenson looked over at him then back at the Count.
"No... I mean... I had to do something to return the things I borrowed. My debts. I had to pay back the debts I owed and I couldn't do it on my own."
The man was trying to justify his actions, the door unlocking quietly as Peter turned the knob. Sorenson must have noticed, the gun raised and pointed towards him.
"Agent Burke watch out!"
The Count called out but it was too late as the gun went off and Peter felt the impact hit his chest. His head flung back as did his body, feet leaving the ground a moment as he collapsed to the tile floor with a loud thud. He thought he heard the crack of his skull against the shiny floor and another report before everything went dark and he passed out.
()()()
Nicholaus smiled as they parked at the address he'd given his partner in crime. Soren had said to trust the man to help him with the job. He wasn't sure as he unknowingly swiped the man's ID and looked at the name. Christophe Dupris.
"Your name is Christophe? Mind if I call you just Chris?"
The man turned to look at him with that same glare as if he'd done something to him. Chris saw him holding his wallet and grabbed at it but Nick was too fast as he slipped out of the car, wallet still in hand.
"This is a nice wallet. Soren buy it for you?"
Chris was out of the car and coming at him quickly, angrily as he danced around with the wallet. He was not taking this at all seriously but he was having fun with his new partner.
"Just ask for it nicely and I'll give it back. Promise."
He was going to annoy the man although a part of him felt some pity for a person who couldn't talk. It made for a great thief but at the same time it had to be hard not having a voice. He watched Chris pause and look thoughtfully at him, glare still apparent before Nick grew tired of playing the game and tossed the wallet back.
"Fine... Better if you don't talk. Shall we get going?"
Nick made his way towards the vent he had exited that night, Neal's memories telling him what he needed to know. Someone grabbed him and turned him around, slamming him against the wall.
"It was a joke. Ease up!"
Chris looked pissed but he made a motion that Nick took as "Do this quickly. I'll be waiting."
He nodded, climbing up with his small bag of tools and easing himself into the air shaft. It was a relatively clean duct, Nick making his way through the redundant looking tunnels to a particular vent. He was almost there when he heard voices ahead and then one gunshot. Nick paused a faint memory of himself standing with someone, his hand holding them closely and then a single report. He grabbed at his head as it started to ache sharply. That had sounded like another shot from the vent ahead, Nick moved away from the sound as his hand brushed something beside him. He forgot the headache a moment to look down in the dimly lit duct to see a faint glittering.
The necklace!
Nick pulled the item into his gloved hands, holding it up to give it a proper look before he pushed it into his bag. This was what Soren had wanted. His task was complete now.
"Agent Burke... wake up. Sacre' Bleu... Can you hear us? Your agent is hurt! Hello?"
Someone was talking down the way where he had heard the shots from. He didn't recognize the voice but the name. The man had mentioned someone he knew of. He couldn't be sure how but Nick found himself peering through the slats of a vent into a familiar office. He heard movement and voices on the other end and then saw a door open and other forms came in. Nick moved back, uncertain what to do as he saw them pull a familiar form up near the vent and sigh.
"He's dead. I'll have to take the gun you have into evidence, Count."
That voice, he knew it all to well but a part of his mind refused to yield who it was as he continued to watch the scene from the vent.
"Take it. It was an antique I kept but never thought I'd use. He would have killed your agent if not... is he ok?"
Nick found himself waiting to hear what was going on as they carried Soren away. Soren was dead. Soren... he had brought him back to life. Erased... his old one. What did he have to do now if there was no Soren? His head started to ache again as he moved away from the vent and started back to the exit for the duct. He had been their pillar. Nick couldn't think what to do as he exited the hole out into the shadowy back end of the building. Chris seemed to be missing but the car still sat there.
()()()
Chris had heard the shots, moving into the duct after Nicholaus / Neal had disappeared inside. He didn't follow the same path as the con, moving along another route till he popped open a vent and slid down into what looked like a janitor's closet. He heard voices outside, looking around quickly as he pulled a maintenance overall out of the locker beside him and put it on. He stepped out of the room with a bucket and mop looking every part the maintenance worker.
Nobody gave him a second look as he continued down the hallway. He only paused when he saw two medics looking over a figure on a stretcher. It was Soren.
"Time of Death, 6:15 PM. Cover him up."
Chris felt a kind of relief at the man's death but he also sensed a loss. The man had brought him back to life. He couldn't have functioned without the Soren's help and yet here he was, the bringer of life... dead. He kept his head low, passing down another adjacent corridor as he made his way around and back towards the office they were at.
()()()
Nick wasn't sure what to do when he returned to find the car opened but unoccupied. He dropped off the bag and item but what use was it now? Soren was dead. There were no keys so he'd have to hot wire the car if he wanted take off. Was anyone looking for them? Where had Chris gone? He was pondering this when he heard sirens approaching. He grabbed up the bag with the necklace, pulled it back over his shoulder and moved to the duct again. He hid inside as unmarked cruisers pulled up to the car and he saw an agent come out and call it in.
"Suspect car behind embassy offices. Sending in the plates."
He glanced at them from his hiding place, moving backwards and turning as he headed back into the building. He'd have to hide out for a bit before getting away with the loot. He could always find someone to fence it off for him.
His head started to ache again, visions of a pretty young woman with dark hair filling his mind before the headache eased up a bit and he heard voices again.
"I'm fine. Just let me sit a moment."
He knew that voice. Nick moved closer to the vent to see someone standing in front of it. Once they moved he could see a familiar face he should know sitting before a large wooden desk. It was the office from before where he had gotten the necklace originally.
"You sure boss? I'll be right back."
He watched the one agent speaking leave while the one sitting nodded tiredly. Nick watched him with a cold passivity but a part of him was interested in the agent. They had met before if only briefly. The man pulled a glass from the desktop and took a long pull of it, smiling afterwards.
"That hit the spot."
Nick continued to watch him, something flashing in his memory that the scene reminded him of. They were... sitting somewhere talking.
What makes you think with all you know about me that I'd like to do that?
He held his head a moment, the memory drawing a bit from him and making him lean back in the tight space to rest. Peter was the reason for everything that had happened to him in his former life. Soren had told him to kill all ties to the past but Soren was dead. He no longer had to listen to him but he no longer had anyone to rein him in.
"That you Jones?"
He watched the agent, curious who he was talking to as another figure came through the door. The vent was low so he could only see feet. The agent turned but something that sounded like a thud met his ears, the agent collapsing off the chair. The other figure crouched down in a maintenance outfit. It was Chris.
()()()
Peter felt the bullet hit him straight in the chest, pushing him backwards to the ground till his head slammed into the tiled floor. He was knocked out cold hearing one more shot before he blacked out.
He was dreaming, Sorenson standing over him with a gun with Neal standing beside him. Both were leering at him as Sorenson passed the gun
to Neal who cocked it, pointing it straight at his heart.
You made a mess of things, Peter. Now I have to clean it up.
Peter wanted to respond but the pain was too much, his body not reacting as he hoped as he lay there helpless. He heard a report before waking as someone smacked him hard across the face.
He tried to talk but his mouth was full of some cloth and covered in tape. Christophe Dupris crouched over him menacingly. The man didn't speak but he could see the fury there not at him but at Neal. Their eyes met but Chris didn't flinch, turning as he left the room and locked it behind him. Peter was alone, head hurting him as he smelled something. He tried to turn his head, groaning slightly from the bump he already had from hitting the floor. Chris had hit him again, his eyes seeing something just around the corner of the huge desk. It was a rattan waste basket smoldering and slowly growing to flame as he watched. Smoke rose up in dark curling wisps that started to grow and fill the room as the fire grew in earnest. He pulled against his bonds but he was cuffed around the leg of the huge desk, his body too tired in it's current state to raise the wooden structure and free himself. He wondered if someone would notice the smoke but saw that Chris had pushed some cloth under the door before he left. The smoke would be trapped in the room and he with it as the fire burned.
Peter thought about Neal but most of all he wondered about his wife. Elizabeth. He told he'd be safe and now... he was going to either die of smoke inhalation or burn to death if nobody came back for him. He coughed as the smoke filled the room in a thin but deadly haze. His eyes were already burning from the ash as the fire took off and spilled onto the floor, following a small line of what appeared to be the Count's cognac. His head still hurt from the crack to the floor and more so from the hit Chris had given him. He felt his eyes starting to roll back as the injuries made him sleepy again. Peter let his head roll to one side, resting against the side of the desk as he fell into a semi-conscious state. He thought he heard the scraping of metal and something clang nearby but didn't react.
"I thought I killed you?"
His eyes rolled up and opened for a moment, a blurry figure in black looking down at him before they closed again. Peter was just aware of someone shaking him and then the hint of flames and heat nearby. There was a sound like something big moving and then a loud thump and he was laying flat on the ground, arms still behind him. His arms were freed only to be cuffed again before him before someone half carried him to a hole and stuffed him inside following after.
"Wake up before I leave you here!"
He was too tired to react but a slap on the face made him roll over and look at the person over him. It was Neal. He was still gagged so he couldn't say anything, the cold look on the con's face letting him know this wasn't his Neal.
"Move it before I shoot you myself."
He saw a gun in his friend's hands, not believing what he was seeing but remembering the knife from before and the situation with El. He nodded weakly, drawing himself to his knees and pushing off in the direction pointed with Neal pushing him along with the gun. This Neal would probably kill him so he would comply to prevent that as long as possible.
"Soren's dead. I don't have to listen to him anymore but you... you're the last tie to my old life. I'll figure out what to do with you."
There was a sense of confusion there. He wanted to ask the young man what he meant but couldn't with the tape and rags gagging him. He trudged on despite the pain in his chest and head. At least Neal was alive, that meant there might be some chance to get him back.
"Stop here."
The young man hissed at him as he gratefully paused to rest and Neal moved ahead to peek out some vent.
"We exit here."
()()()
Chris made his way back to the janitor's closet and changed back, leaving the maintenance overalls on the floor as he climbed back into the vent and started back towards the car. If he couldn't get at Neal, he would at least kill the man he considered a friend and mentor. They had killed Soren so it was the least he could do. Now he was free to go get Alex and start his life again. He smiled to himself as he moved back towards the exit where the car was. He was about to slip out when he heard voices and noticed a flashing light in red and blue colors. Cops if not other Federal Agents. Dammit!
He peeked through the slats of the vent and saw the agents towing his car away while skirting the area for any signs of him if not Neal. The con may not know who he was but Chris did. He would find a way out and back to Alex one way or another. He wasn't going to die again. He turned back into the ducts and went to find a path away from here and back to Alex.
()()()
Peter felt a hand grab at his back and stop him. He turned to see Neal glaring at him, gun waving.
"We exit here. Don't try anything or you'll be a dead agent. Understand?"
The agent nodded to his friend, hoping he would come back to himself. He'd had ample opportunities to leave him behind or kill him but he hadn't. Satchmo had sensed the young man's duality but led them to his bag in the backyard meaning the dog knew Neal wasn't himself. Peter pushed the vent open into a back street opening that faced another building. It was a narrow little road, almost an alleyway of sorts ending in a dead end on one side and out into a main road on the other. He slipped out as best he could, legs shaky as he stood there leaning on the wall. His vision was still blurring in and out of focus as he heard the sound of Neal drop down beside him, gun pointed at him dangerously.
"Ok FED... I'm going to free you and remove the gag but I need you to promise not to call for help. First time you do, you're dead. Understand?"
This was like another person, the shock of his wounds making him too tired to fight. Besides, it was Neal. He didn't want him hurt if there was a way to get him back. He nodded, the con removing the cuffs and putting them in his pocket while Peter pulled the tape from his mouth and spit out the rags.
"What... do I call... you?"
It was more a statement than anything but the personality was far from the man he had grown to call friend and partner. This was a stranger created by whatever Soren had done. He saw Neal think about it a moment then smirk slightly.
"Nicholaus but I prefer Nick. Move it and act normal."
Peter nodded as they moved ahead, Neal pushing the agent ahead of him with one hand holding on to make sure he obeyed. The gun was pressed into his back out of sight. It was still partially light but early enough in the evening that people might have been drinking.
"We're just two guys out having a few drinks."
They continued on their way, Nick leading them along till they entered the basement door of a building for lease and headed down towards what looked to be maintenance tunnels. Peter didn't know what to think as they stared across the track of subway from one door to another. He heard the chink of metal and turned.
"Put your arms behind you, Agent."
Peter thought he might take his friend but the gun worried him so he did as he was told. He felt the metal cuffs tightened and hooked around each wrist before he was led at gun point towards another maintenance door and they entered a long gray tunnel. They kept walking till Nick stopped him before a door.
"Behind this door is death. You step inside and you come back changed. Soren was the master of life and death. I wonder if I shouldn't try my hand at it this once."
Peter turned to plead with him but those cold blue eyes that weren't Neal's stared back at him. His friend must be there somewhere but he couldn't see him in the shuttered angry stare. The door opened and Nick pushed him inside.
"You let Neal die. You killed him when he needed you most. That badge..."
Nick took it from his belt and tossed it aside.
"It means nothing here. The worms eat you either way. Good or bad."
Nick was angry with him, a part of Neal that was normally hidden away and pushed aside. Neal was nothing like this person he saw now. He could only nod as the young man motioned for him to move backwards with the gun.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, Neal. I don't blame you. Soren did this to you. Twisted your life into something he could use to manipulate and control you with. He did it to Chris and he's still out there. Soren is dead. He can't make you do anything you don't want to do."
He watched as Nick stared at him blankly then clapped and smiled.
"Good speech, if only Neal were here to listen."
Nick looked wild, blue eyes flashing but there was something there that reminded him of Neal. Something slight despite this other persona.
"You killed him! You caused his death and now all that is left is... me."
Peter waited, hearing the gun cocked and Nick turn and stare at him from across the room. The gun was pointed at his head first, then his heart as he saw this shell of his friend pull the trigger slowly back.
"It has to end this way, Peter. You have to change as Neal did. Transform."
He heard the gun go off but felt nothing. Peter had closed his eyes but opened them now, Nick shooting at him again but missing each time. His hand would point the gun at the agent but jerk last minute up or away to the side and miss. Finally the gun clicked empty, Nick staring at him with a look like an angry child that had thrown a fit. His face was flush at the cheeks with a reddish hue, eyes wet and shiny. Peter was no longer alone. Neal was in the room now.
"Why didn't you... let me end this? He killed you!"
Peter watched his friend struggling between himself, two people within one fighting for control. He heard something fall to the floor with a metallic clink before Neal turned to leave the room. The door shut behind the fleeing con as Peter made to follow. He looked down to see the key to the handcuffs on the floor where Nick had stood. He moved to pick it up, freeing himself as he followed after his friend.
"NEAL!"
He opened the door and ran through, calling out as he hoped his friend would hear him but Neal had disappeared. He was about to call again when he heard a shot outside. Peter moved towards the door they had entered from the subway tunnel ducking back in as a bullet narrowly missed him. He reached inside his jacket remembering suddenly he still had his pistol hidden from before.
More shots followed from down the tunnel as he went towards the sound and saw Christophe standing there with another figure over his shoulders. It looked like a woman. It looked like Alex Hunter.
oOoOoOo
Author's Note: I hope you're enjoying the story. Looks like Neal is more there than his alter ego realizes. Something going to have to shock him back into reality and quick. And I watched a couple of episodes of a very cheesy 1930s serial and now I'm tempted to make my next story a cheesy White Collar serialized story. I just have to find an outrageous storyline, bad cliffhangers for the end of each chapter and very bad punny chapter names like "Bonds of friendship" or "Con as you are." ;) If you can ever catch any old serials especially the Republic Picture ones, they are ever so fun to watch! I liked "Rocketmen from the moon" and a few others like "Nyoka and the Tigermen." Funny stuff and lots of whump!