Disclaimer: White Collar and the characters borrowed for this story are the creative property of Jeff Eastin. This story was written and shared solely for the enjoyment of other White Collar fans. No copyright infringement is intended.

Forged Friendships

Chapter – 11 Hearts Desires

Neal exhaled with a soft whimper, turning his head in his sleep as Crystal disconnected the tubing used for the transfusion and disposed of it in the red bio-hazard container. Despite the administration of 2-units of whole blood, his complexion was still terribly pale in contrast to the mottled purple bruise blooming across his cheek and she decided it would be beneficial to allow him to continue sleeping. There was no medical necessity for the immediate removal of the IV catheter and she knew Vanessa would stand behind her decision if the task waited until the next shift started.

Pulling Mr. Caffrey's nutritional status card from the stack, Crystal placed it on the tray table while she scavenged in her pocket for a pen. Dr. Turner had highlighted the top of the card with specific orders to push for an increase in his caloric intake. So far, Neal had refused to drink any of the liquid nutritional supplements, saying that the artificial flavors made him nauseous. Turning the tray around, Crystal lifted the plastic lid that was partially covering the bowl of congealed cream of chicken soup. Wrinkling her nose in obvious displeasure at its' unappetizing appearance, she regretfully noted that the food was barely touched. Placing the lid back over the soup, she shook her head in frustration. She felt certain that Molly, the pretty student nurse would be able to coax him into eating more than just a few scant spoons of soup.

The nurse jotted a quick note on the card and stuffed the deck back into her lab coat pocket, as she silently watched her restless patient stirring in his sleep. Mr. Caffrey's expressive arched brows, drawn tightly together, his eyes rapidly tracing back and forth under closed lids. Fitfully tossing his head to one side, an incoherent mumble escaped his pale lips. Crystal reached to hold his hand but something about Neal's gentle demeanor again tugged at her emotions and she found herself lightly stroking the back of her fingers down his cheek and along the edge of his jaw line. He was already too thin and she knew the next step would be an unpleasant feeding tube, if he continued in this pattern. When he awoke, she was determined to make sure he ate something more, even if she had to go out and pick up his favorite take-out.

"Mr. Caffrey, please try to eat just a little so my report doesn't have to sound like you're completely refusing food." Crystal whispered as she straightened the twisted sheets, loosely tucking them around his slim body. "I'll be back in a little while."

Neal again tossed his head, burying it deeper into the folds of the pillow, hushed sobbing sounds quickly fading into the padded crevices. "So sorry, Caffrey." These few pitiless and vindictive words reverberated through the cavernous hallway as Neal was forcibly whisked towards the open doorway. His stomach knotting tighter with each advancing step as frantic turbulent thoughts stampeded through his mind. Extending his arms fully out to the sides, he seized the edge of the smooth metal door frame and leaned back on his heels with all his weight in a last futile attempt to resist any forward movements. "Give it up Caffrey. Don't you want to visit her?" The voice smacked with disdain as Neal struggled to maintain his stance.

All the reserved air rushed from his lungs as a sharp blow landed square between his shoulder blades. A pair of brusque forceful hands grasped his upper arms and shoved him through the entry, releasing him to collapse into a heap on the cold tile floor. His first deep breath was of the acrid sweet smell of strong hospital strength disinfectant. He gasped, working to pull himself up with the aid of a stainless steel table leg, his breathing erupting into violent coughing spasms. Sprawling prone over the edge of the empty autopsy table, he stared with horror at the brightly illuminated wall of compartmentalized refrigeration lockers. Each door tightly closed hiding their contents from view.

His eyes flashed with dread as an unfamiliar hand reached up into the light, opening the latch of a single brushed metal door. Terror pierced at his heart, as the hands pulled the heavy tray from its resting place, exposing a black zippered bag. Glassenger turned to watch Neal's expression, his brazen face cast with a merciless grin as he gripped the bag's fastener with cruel anticipation. "Caffrey, since you're the closest thing Violet had left to family, a private viewing seemed most appropriate. I'm sure you wanted a chance for a proper good-bye."

Neal bolted awake, alone, breathless and momentarily disoriented, gripping the fabric of the sheet tightly between tense white knuckled fingers. "Only a dream … get a grip Neal … it was only a dream." His body shuddered with the fear that something had again triggered the endless string of nightmares that for months had chased his unconscious thoughts. He pulled his hand free of the restraint and grasped his forehead, feeling his pulse throbbing against his temples. "What time was it? Had Mozzie found the location?" Neal held his breath and counted slowly, holding the phone in the palm of his shaking hand as he nervously retrieved the two missed messages.

NC- Our buddy, Reid Hallorand is taking a night class at Columbia. Graduate student in charge. Lab storage has a clean room view. Ventilation system adjusted and UV tracer added in a miscible blend. MG owns original. Alex agreed to jump the fence for you on this one. Relax all eyes to be on V. –DH

NC- And for god sake, breathe … It will all be over soon. –DH

Neal opened the attachment and stared at the photo of Violet that Mozzie had taken. He recognized the warm inviting setting as the place he called home. Violet and the little pug were snuggled together sleeping in June's over-stuffed chair beside the crackling fireplace. For a second, he imagined himself seated on the floor, his head supported in her lap, the fire slowly turning to embers as they drifted off together. Was this just another idyllic dream … like the white picket fence? Was Mozzie right … that this wasn't a life available to guys like them? Neal knew that his longtime friend had intended the image to set his mind at ease but instead it only acted as a catalyst to intensify his feelings of apprehension and guilt.

The emotional storm brewing quickly shifted guilt to anger as he internally chastised himself for foolishly falling into Glassenger's trap, ending up incapacitated, unable to protect her. Neal knew Mozzie had followed his lead and was in place to observe the meeting and intervene if necessary. Now, he just had to believe that Peter would entrust his reputation in support of the plan that Mozzie had set into motion.

His attention rapidly dissolved back to the image of Violet's face, resting his fingers delicately against the screen, he slowly traced the outline of her cheek, imagining the feel of her smooth hair as it slipped freely through his fingers. It seemed like an eternity since he'd held her in his arms and tenderly kissed her good night, confessing his love to her sleeping countenance. If he had only stayed the night, this could have ended so differently.

Neal glanced upward, his daydream abruptly ending as a woman's hand reached across the bedside railing into his periphery and anxiously tapped the top edge of the phone. His gaze met with Crystal's in a stunned reaction, mouth-dropping open as he gradually lowered his hands into his lap, loosening his grip. Wide bands of color washed across Neal's pallid cheeks as his naturally polished veneer splintered into a stammering confession. "Ah… Crystal … i-it's not what you think. W-well act-ually it probably is what you th-ink. I … planned to give it back to-morrow."

The nurse lifted her phone out of Neal's hands and looked at the smudged screen. Absentmindedly wiping the smear away with the edge of her lab-coat, she hesitantly asked, "Is this your friend? The one you've been so concerned about."

She carefully studied her patient's face, his unchecked emotions broadcasting that he was terrified of losing this woman. The events from the past four days finally fell into order for Crystal and she felt awful that she hadn't recognized it sooner. Mr. Caffrey had been brutally beaten, nearly died twice, tortured himself by going without pain medication, fought with strength he couldn't spare and now stolen her phone, all mounting into a consolidated effort to save his friend, a woman he must love.

Neal lowered his gaze, his dark lashes fanning out over the deep circles that framed his usually animated vivid blue eyes. Staring down at his empty grasp, he nodded his head acknowledging both his defeat and fear. "Her name is Violet and our relation-ship has al-ways been com-plex. Be-cause of me she's in danger." He struggled to continue, clenching his hands in frustration. "Look at me … my ac-tions were … sloppy and now I'm un-able to protect her … and it's becoming in-creasingly apparent that if my friends don't succeed to-night … I may never see her again." His voice trailing away, softer with each breathy word, "Cry-stal, I … I love her deeply … but I've never told her."

The by-the-rules professional nurse couldn't allow this kind gentle man to continue suffering alone. He needed a compassionate caring touch, not just medical procedures in a sterile environment. She smiled at Neal as she removed her lab coat and badge, draping it across the end of the bed, giving a quick glance down at her watch. "I'm due for a break. Would you like someone to talk to?"

Lowering the protective railing, his nurse carefully sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out, offering him the comfort of her arms. Neal sat motionless, the tension in his face intensifying as the contractions of the muscles rippled along his angular jaw line. Crystal moved closer gathering him into her arms and lightly running her palm over his warm back. Neal swallowed hard against the tightness migrating down his neck, leaning forward he rested his head on her shoulder. "Mr. Caffrey … Neal, I feel certain Violet already knows your feelings for her. You may have been an accomplished conman but in this case, your eyes tell on you."

She stroked his hair softly, avoiding the long line of sutures that closed the massive gash in the back of his head. "Are you in pain? There isn't any reason for you to be uncomfortable."

Her question went unanswered as he allowed himself to lean heavily against her shoulder. Reaching down, she helped him dispense a dose of morphine, her free hand coming to rest at the nape of his neck, her fingertips lightly massaging downward in soothing repetitive motion. "You've been through enough. Agent Burke and his wife were very concerned about you this morning … and I could tell your partner was sorry the two of you had words. He assured me that he would take care of your friend … and I got the distinct feeling that the word of Peter Burke is never given lightly."

She again stroked her fingertips through his hair, noticing the warm sensation of moisture seeping through the fabric of her scrub top as Neal broke down in a labored pattern of hushed sobs. She held him close, quietly comforting him, his fragile body now lax in her arms.

Resting on her shoulder at the edge of slumber, Neal instinctively nuzzled closer to her neck, his eyes drifted open and closed. For the first time in days, he was in a comfortable warm easy place devoid of pain. Crystal rocked back and forth slightly as she patted his back. "Shhh my dear man. It's going to be okay, Neal. You just concentrate on getting better and trust your partner and friends. Just you rest now. Shhh."

Languidly shifting back to consciousness, Neal pulled back, apologetically smoothing down the damp wrinkled fabric pressed to the nurse's neck. Crystal gently clasped her finger around his nervous hand, temporarily calming his tremors. "This, this will dry … it's okay Neal … sometimes you just need to let it out." She carefully pressed a tissue into the corners of his red swollen eyes... "Are you feeling any better?" She stood, fluffing up the pillow and holding it in place as she slowly reclined him back in a more comfortable position. "Are you going to be okay alone?"

Neal nodded, a tremor radiating outward and down his fingers, quickly masked by a shushing wave toward the door. "Y-you're right a-bout Peter Burke." He rolled his lower lip under, sucking in a quick breath as he considered the stress Peter must be experiencing.

"Are you certain? I can stay as long as you'd like."

"I-I'm fine …really. You have other pat-ients."

Leaning against the edge of the bed, Crystal tilted his head to the side until his temple rested against her forehead. "If you need anything and that includes just talking, please use your call-bell." Taking the phone from her pocket, she placed it back into Neal's unsteady hands, folding his long fingers around its edges with a reassuring squeeze. "Here … do what you need to keep her safe."

Mozzie trudged across the parking lot, wispy white snow devils stirring around his feet like little ghosts rising from the black pavement. He reached and pulled the collar of his coat up to shield the back of his neck from the windy assault. Twisting his shoulders from side to side, he shifted the heavy backpack to a fresh spot. His back ached under the uneven load that was sinking into the padded layers of his winter coat. "Neal, I am getting to old for these physically demanding jobs, I am rapidly becoming more suited to the sedentary and cerebral. Holding up those weighty serving trays at the Italian Consulate nearly drove me to a chiropractor last year." Mumbling to himself, he dropped the pack with a solid thud onto the metal slatted park bench. Turning to scan the area, he pulled his phone out and snapped photos from all directions, forwarding them on to Neal along with the lab layout. A second pair of trained eyes couldn't hurt with what was at stake tonight.

Tugging his coattail underneath him and wrapping his scarf one more twist around his upturned collar, Mozzie braced himself for contact with the icy metal of the park bench. "Global warming, my buttocks. Not feeling the warmth of impending doom here." The chill penetrated through the back of his thin trousers sending protesting shivers down his legs as he bumped a Camel Straight from the pack and dialed the Suit's number.

Nothing guaranteed privacy like a frigid metal park bench and cloud of noxious cigarette smoke. He held up the reflective face of the phone and scanned behind him. There were only a few cars in the parking lot. Most of the students were in warm libraries preparing for final exams and those that ventured out were walking with a purposeful pace not lingering in the open areas.

Peter sat hunched over in the confined space of the surveillance van, flipping through his operational notes one last time. His concerns weighing heavily on his conscious, knowing that this plan was tenuous at best. Violet wasn't a trained agent and Glassenger and his men had a history of violence. Neal's current condition was a vivid example of just how brutal these men could be when they wanted something. His only hope was that she could hold it together long enough for his men to locate the meeting place and get her to safety.

Looking down, Peter again nudged the service dog's muzzle away from his leg as she panted heavily, contentedly whacking his chair with her thick tail. "Jones, please move the dog. He's in desperate need of a breath mint."

Jones perked up, chucking at Peter's obvious displeasure as the large dog flopped her head sideways on top of Peter's thigh, licking at his hand. "HER name is Ruby." He said, reaching for the service dog's lead to direct the gray and black shepherd to the back of the van. "Hey, pretty girl, don't listen to Agent Burke. He just hasn't had his Italian roast today." Vigorously rubbing behind her head, he slid his hands down the smooth fur of her ears, leaning forward he allowed her to lick his face.

"Jones, speaking of coffee." Peter extended his arm, holding his empty travel mug out into the isle way as he reached for the vibrating phone tucked in his inside jacket pocket. "Elizabeth now is not good." He grumbled under his breath as his slid the phone open. "Honey can this wait?"

"Suit we're not that close." Mozzie scoffed as he crossed his legs and took a long drag off the cigarette, watching the smoke cloud billow upward into the crisp clear night.

"How did you … no … why do you have this number?"

"Suit, I have the location for the meeting. I just sent you the address and photos of the building's exterior and the lab layout. Check your other phone." Mozzie stretched arching his back to gain a quick glance behind him. "I don't trust one line of communication for sensitive information. You never know who could be listening."

Peter pulled out his Blackberry and retrieved the message waiting on his FBI issued phone. "Haversham we have to talk when this is over. The Bureau frowns on hacking and other disreputable forms of obtaining Intel." Scrolling down to the meeting address now visible on the computer monitor, Peter exhaled and ran his hand back through his hair. "Columbia … dammit their smart. They know it will be a hard target to raid on short notice with students in the building." Peter propped his head up against his clenched fist. "Haversham, you're sure about this location? Street chatter isn't going to cut it tonight."

"There are two ways of meeting difficulties: You alter the difficulties or you alter yourself to meet them. Relax; this is a first-hand account. "

"How did you get into a secure campus building?" Peter paused sucking in air through his clenched teeth. "I don't want to know how you gained access to this lab … do I?"

Mozzie shifted away from the back of the cold bench and coughed into the phone. "A close friend of Neal's, Reid Hallorand likes to audit classes at night. After all, a mind is a terrible thing to waste."

"So let me get this straight, Neal's friend has eyes in the lab."

"I can only confirm that he too is a mutual friend of Violet's and loves to do a little research of his own. Tell Violet to be sure to clean the FTIR lens really well with ALCOHOL."

"Alcohol?" Peter exhaled as he attempted to stretch out his cramped legs, shaking his head in disbelief.

"She'll get the message. Just get your men to this parking lot. MG owns the original so he isn't about to show his face. Vi is going to have to make a batch of the coating and running the tests. To end this, you're going to have to follow his men back to the source. After all when lightning strikes, the mouse is sometimes burned with the farm, Phyllis Bottome … I will keep you apprised when to make a move."

"Haversham … Haversham … Mozzie? … He hung up on me!" Peter gave the phone an exasperated flick, tossing it alongside the keyboard. "Unbelievable!" Peter stood leaning heavily on the counter, staring down at a map of Columbia campus. "Jones, it's time to go. I can't even begin to fathom that I am saying this but Mozzie needs you to pass a message to Violet. Tell her to clean the FTIR lens really well with alcohol. Whatever the heck that means."

Jones' eyes widened as he turned to face Peter. "Mozzie? Neal's little buddy with the surplus spy gadgets?"

"One and the same." Peter scrubbed his hand down over his face. "Neal … your trust better be well founded … because I'm not sure how I am going to explain taking my lead from a street smart myopic conspiracy theorist."