Unintended Consequences

DISCLAIMER: White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin and USA Network.

A/N: Everyone have a Happy New Year! I meant to have this story done by the end of the year, but I guess that's not going to happen. Hope you don't mind too much that I'm ending the year with another compelling cliffhanger ; )

"Did I just hear the great law abiding FBI Agent Peter Burke just allude to tampering with evidence?"

"Who, me? Never, but I'm betting a certain forger would be quite willing to tamper with a certain piece of evidence created by himself to keep himself out of jail."

Chapter 15

"What if I refuse?"

"Your call."

"You two are insufferable. Why don't you just make up and get over it? I am sick and tired of hearing you two fight.

Elle sounded very upset at both and was unsure whose side to be on; both men needed to apologize, but both men completely ignored her.

"You don't have anything on me, Peter. You can't prove anything other than the bonds. I don't have to help you with this case. Who knows, this painting might just disappear and the thieves of the original painting may never be caught."

"It was your idea to use the painting as bait in the first place."

"Oh, so now suddenly it's a bad idea?"

"I didn't say it was a bad idea there are just issues that need to be worked through."

Elle shook her head and motioned for Mozzie to join her in the kitchen.

"I'm trying to help you solve your case and you turned it around as blackmail. I'm not taking the bait."

"Is that really what you want to do?"

"What I really want to do is to walk out of here right now and never come back! You thank Mozzie for saving Elle, but I don't get one word of thanks for saving your miserable hide much less trying to save your sister. I was trying to do what's right. I do listen...on occasion. I know that's not my default method of operation, but all I could think about was protecting you because you shouldn't have been involved with someone who had a grudge against me. Send me back to jail if you want, it would probably be safer and I wouldn't have to worry about protecting any so-called friends. I had no idea of Frank's relationship to you. I was trying to do the right thing and this is the thanks I get. Why should I bother?"

Neal didn't wait for an answer to his question. He wasn't expecting one as he got up from the couch again. This time he didn't care about his jacket as he moved to the door as quickly as possible without completely jarring his ribs. He opened the door, slipped through and slammed it as hard as possible. He hoped that sent a message to Peter that their partnership was in ruins and it was up to Peter to fix it.

Elle peeked out from the kitchen after hearing the door slam. Peter sat frozen on the couch and Neal was nowhere in sight. Looking at it from Neal's perspective, Peter could see how Neal had taken offense. He was going to apologize and thank Neal, but he just hadn't gotten to that point yet. He had been trying to stay on the offensive during their banter and get useful case information from Neal before the leads died out. He should have known better.

"Peter? Where's Neal?"

"Hmm? Oh, uh, he left."

"Without his jacket?"

"He must have forgotten it."

"Well, go after him. He's going to freeze if he tries to walk."

Elle was already moving to get Neal's jacket from the closet and thrust it at Peter.

"Get going. You can always track his anklet. Make sure you apologize for whatever you said that drove him away."

Peter uttered a small groan. Why was his wife always so perceptive? He knew this was a good thing and he loved her for it, but he hated it when she used it against him. Peter grabbed his keys and his coat and left to track down his partner before Neal got himself into even more trouble.

##

Neal was walking down the street in the general direction of June's. He thought about hailing a cab, but he was not in the mood for a chatty cab driver. His blood was still boiling so he hadn't really missed his jacket yet even though it was fairly cold out. Morning just beginning to break, and the sky was beginning lighten enough to see the outlines of the buildings beyond what was visible from the lights of the passing cars. He wanted to walk to release his pent up frustrations, but he was having trouble trying to concentrate on keeping one foot in front of the other in a straight line without moving his ribs more than absolutely necessary.

It was a vicious cycle - letting the cold numb him so that he didn't feel the pain from his ribs, but yet moving enough so that he didn't freeze and was making progress in walking toward June's. His slow progress was making him re-think his cab decision; he was never going to make it back to June's without freezing at this rate. Maybe all Peter would find would be his stiff and frozen body. He was certain Peter would eventually come after him. If there was one thing Peter was, it was predictable. Peter would then chew him out and tell Neal he was stubborn and bull headed, but at the moment Neal didn't really care. He knew this wasn't the first time Peter had been mad at him and he was sure it wouldn't be the last, but for once Neal couldn't think of anything he would have done differently. He had to save Grace and there hadn't been any time to plan a con or come up with different scenarios. He imagined Peter had felt the same way, but wouldn't admit it to himself.

##

Grace was sitting with Jones and Diana in the conference room at the FBI headquarters. Jones had pulled all the records on their storage rentals.

"Do you have any idea which one of these rentals the painting might be in?"

"Agent Jones, I wish I knew. It has to be in one of them though. I am certain it's not in our apartment, so it has to be there somewhere."

"Mrs. Corleone, would you please sign here stating that we have your permission to search your storge lockers. It will be later this morning."

Grace signed her signature, put the pen down and looked over at Jones.

"Nobody has told me anything, but I was wondering is Neal ok?"

"I'm not really sure ma'am. I haven't been to the hospital, and I don't know that Peter has either. Have you heard anything, Diana?"

"No, but why don't I call them and see."

"Thank you. Agent..."

"Barrigan, Agent Diana Barrigan. I guess we haven't been officially introduced have we? I'm sorry."

Diana reached over and shook Grace's hand.

"I assume since you know his name, you've met Neal before?"

"Yes, I knew him several years ago, he and my husband did a couple jobs together. I knew Kate as well."

"Ah. Ok. Well, why don't we go over to my desk so I can call the hospital."

Diana got up and motioned for Grace to follow her. She turned back to look at Jones.

"I'll let you know when we are ready to go."

Diana walked toward her desk and indicated a chair next to it for Grace to sit in.

Diana picked up the phone and dialed the number for the hospital, identifying herself as FBI and asked for the status of the FBI consultant that had been brought in several hours ago. Grace noticed Diana's face turn into a grimace before she hung up.

"Is Neal ok?"

"Apparently, he didn't want to stay overnight, so they checked him out and let him leave a couple hours ago. It must not have been too serious then."

"Thank you for checking, Agent Barrigan. I really appreciate it."

Diana looked over at Grace with a sad smile.

"I'm sorry, Grace. We have to go, I can't stall any longer. NYPD will need to book you, but you should be able to get bail as soon as the paperwork is processed. I'll tell them you're not a flight risk. We'll just have to wait until they have a trial date set and then we'll testify on your behalf. You won't have to go through this alone."

"I'm just glad Peter is still alive. We all have to make choices, and I'm willing to accept responsibility for it and let justice prevail."

Grace looked down at her hands, and half chuckled looking back up at Diana.

"You know, a year ago, if you would have asked me about my life or doing what's right, I would probably have laughed in your face, but I've been slowly realizing how wrong I've been. I've been following Peter's career, but I don't really think I understood him until he forgave me even when he thought I was going to pull the trigger and kill him. He is a wonderful brother and I'm sorry I waited this long to get to know him."

Grace stood up signaling she was ready to go, and Diana signaled to Jones who had returned to his desk. He reached for his jacket and joined the two women opening the door for them as they walked out to the elevators.

##

"You look cold."

Neal knew the voice but didn't turn around or stop walking; hoping against hope Peter would go away, but he was well aware of the agent's persistence.

"Come on Neal, its cold out here. You need a coat."

Neal increased his pace slightly, but otherwise failed to acknowledge Peter's presence.

"Look, I'm sorry. I meant to thank you earlier, but I didn't. Can we talk?"

"Isn't that what we have been doing?"

Neal didn't stop walking until Peter grasped Neal's shoulder and forcibly turned him around shoving Neal's jacket into his hands.

"If you catch a cold Elle will hold me personally responsible. At least accept the jacket."

Neal wasn't sure he could get the jacket on, but he wasn't about to ask Peter for help. Peter however saw his hesitation and figured out the problem.

"Here let me help you."

Neal begrudgingly accepted Peter's help as he slowly slipped his arms in the sleeves. The jacket was warmer.

"Why don't we grab some coffee and get you warmed up?"

"You know you're schizophrenic right? One moment you're angry, then you're black mailing me and now you're being nice?"

Peter turned and motioned Neal in the direction of the Taurus parked several hundred feet away.

"And whose fault do you think that is?"

Peter started the car and Neal turned all the vents he could reach toward him for warmth. He rubbed his hands back and forth for a few seconds before he turned to look at Peter with his completely innocent look.

"Seriously, Peter all the troubles of the world cannot be blamed on me. You give me too much credit."

Peter noticed the innocent look present on Neal's face and grinned; all hope was not lost.

"Any gray hair I may have now or in the future will most definitely have your name written all over it."

"And which name would that be? You know I have several."

Peter couldn't help but smile.

"I don't think you really want out of this partnership, Neal. You enjoy sparring with me. Who else trusts you? Who else do you trust? I do have your back. I would have told you about the kidnapping, but you called in sick and I didn't want to bother you."

"I know. I should have called you."

Peter resisted the urge to say 'I told you so' as he found a parking spot not too far from a coffee shop they frequented and shut off the car.

"I have requested that Jones searches all the storage units that Frank & Grace had rented. I'm sure we'll find the painting in there and I do like your plan, but first I need coffee."

Neal and Peter both exited the Taurus and entered the coffee shop. There were a few early risers sitting at various tables, but it wasn't the bustling crowd that would come later.

"I'll get the coffee, would you find us a table?"

Neal nodded his ascent and scoped out the layout. He really didn't want a table, but then he noticed there was a deserted corner of the store that had two couches and a couple stuffed chairs. Neal made his way over and carefully lowered himself into the plush chair. There were some low hanging lights with a soft glow and paintings scattered on the wall that created a relaxing atmosphere. He sighed deeply and let himself relax for the first time in many hours. He was just going to close his eyes until Peter got back with the coffee.

Peter ordered two coffees from the barista as well as two blueberry scones. He finally found Neal fast asleep on a plush chair near the back of the coffee shop. He set the tray down and sat on the nearby couch. He picked up his coffee and observed his partner. He wondered if Neal had been sleeping well lately, but with the events of the last couple days, it was probably a given. He waited for a few more minutes just to see if Neal would wake up on his own, but he didn't. He reached for Neal's coffee and tried to get the young man to wake up.

"Neal."

The figure didn't move. Peter gently tapped Neal on the shoulder and stepped back in case Neal was startled or tried to put up a fight. Finally Neal's eyes flickered open and there was a look of panic before it was replaced with relief and he slowly reached for the coffee in Peter's outstretched hand.

Peter looked him directly in the eyes.

"Everything ok?"

"Yeah, it's fine. I didn't mean to fall asleep."

Neal was not about to tell Peter that he had been reliving the shooting incident over again in his mind for however long he had been out. For just a second when he saw Peter holding something out to him, he thought it was a gun.

"It's ok, Neal. We're both tired. It's understandable. I know you are upset, but I assure you I haven't forgotten what you did. I know you tried to save my life by throwing yourself in the path of Grace's bullet, but what I didn't tell you was that it was actually Frank who fired the shot. Frank was holding a gun on her demanding she shoot me. When she pulled the trigger she apparently turned and shot Frank instead. Frank took shot his while he was falling, realizing what Grace had done. Grace should be cleared because her shot was in self defense. I was wearing a vest, but there's no way you could have know that. What you did Neal was heroic. You should be proud of yourself, and I am proud of you even if I didn't tell you right away."

Neal blushed after the honest praise from Peter, but proceeded to misdirect in typical Caffrey fashion.

"Yeah, well that's what consultants are for, to step into the line of fire."

"Neal, don't belittle this or misdirect. You are not a secret service agent, you are not trained to be a secret service agent, and despite your good looks, I don't think anyone would mistake you for Clint Eastwood. This could have been prevented. Communication before things go wrong is critical. I need you to talk to me; tell me what's going on and maybe we can prevent a crisis like this from happening again."

"So, you're not mad at me and you're willing to overlook a few of my indiscretions in the past few days?"

"There's another aspect that comes with justice, Neal, and it's not revenge, tempting though that may be. No, it's mercy. As Peter I am offering you mercy because I know what you did. I heard your explanation and I am choosing to forgive you. I'm also asking if you would do the same and forgive me for shooting you. It could also be considered unconditional love. I love you like a father to a son. I know what you did and I love you anyway. As far as Agent Burke is concerned, I wasn't aware that you had admitted to any wrong doing and I have no official evidence to charge you with. However, Neal…"

Peter waited until Neal looked up at him and locked his gaze.

"Next time, I am begging you to contact me first before you do anything, and I mean anything, no clarification required. I mean it."

"I understand, Peter, and I forgive you, too. Partners again?"

"Yeah, partners. I've got your back."

"I'm still wearing a bullet proof vest just in case."

Neal tried to shift just slightly away from Peter just in case he tried to flick him on the shoulder for his comment, but then realized Peter was just sitting there smiling at him.

"By the way, Neal, how many more people might possibly have grudges against you that I don't know about?"

"As numerous as the stars in the sky or the sand on the seashore."

"I thought that was the number of Abraham's descendants…"

"There's very few people that don't have a grudge against me."

"Okay then…yeah, this is going to be fun."

##

Grace had almost reached the entrance of the police station accompanied by Jones and Diana on either side of her when a sudden impact drove her forward and she crumpled to the ground, motionless. Jones quickly lifted Grace and entered the building as Diana opened the door, weapon ready and scanning for the shooter. Seeing nothing, she followed Jones into the relative safety of the police station.