Let Your Heart Hold Fast

Chapter 18

Neal knew he had to find a way to get away from the people who had taken him. He also knew that he was running out of time. Shawn had said that they would be leaving the next day, heading to Chicago, so Neal decided that he would have to leave that night. The problem was that he really didn't like the dark. It wasn't that he was scared of the dark; after all, he was five years old and almost grown-up. At least, that's what he tried to tell himself. He also knew that it was cold outside and probably raining. But, he really didn't have a choice. He had to get out of there.

That evening he made sure that he ate as much as he could, which wasn't much because the smell of the food made him sick to his stomach. Once dinner was over, Neal went back to the sofa and curled up with the blanket. Rhianna had still not come back, so it was only Shawn he had to worry about. Neal stayed on the couch, listening to the sounds that Shawn was making in the bedroom. Eventually, the sounds quieted, leaving Neal to believe that Shawn had finally fallen asleep.

As quietly as he could possibly be, Neal went to the front door and tried to open it. Unfortunately, the door was locked with a chain at the top that he couldn't reach. Walking into the kitchen, he noticed that the back door was locked in the same manner. Looking around, Neal figured that he could reach the chain if he could get a chair over to the door. Minutes later, he was able to get the chair over to the door without making too much noise. It didn't take him long to unlock the door and suddenly Neal found himself outside in the moonlit night.

Peter was relieved to hear from Agent Dawson that they had a lead on the whereabouts of Shawn Clayton. They had tracked down several of his former co-workers and one of them had remembered that Clayton had a great-uncle that he stayed with occasionally on the outskirts of Brooklyn. A few hours later they had an address and Peter joined Agent Dawson's team as they went to check it out.

His relief soon turned to devastation when they arrived to find the house empty. There was evidence that someone had recently been there, but it would take time to determine if it was Neal. As he watched the ERT techs gathering fingerprints, Peter silently prayed that he would find Neal, and that he wouldn't have to go home without him again.

Neal hadn't gone very far when he heard noises behind him. At first, he thought that it must be a lion or a bear or maybe even a giant monster, but then he heard Shawn calling his name.

"Neal! Neal, where are you?" Shawn called out. "Come on, kid…..it's cold and dark out here."

Neal stopped running and looked behind him to find out how close Shawn was. He was still pretty far back, but Neal was afraid that he would catch up. Without thinking about how dangerous it was, Neal ran to the tallest tree he could find and quickly climbed it. He was freezing and tired, but he settled himself against a branch, prepared to stay there for a while.

As he watched, he saw Shawn draw closer and closer. He could tell that the man was really angry at having to search for him, so he made sure he wasn't breathing too loudly as he hugged the tree tightly. Shawn was almost directly underneath him, still calling out for Neal, who by this time had his eyes shut as he prayed frantically for Shawn to move on.

Finally, to Neal's great relief, Shawn moved out of the area. Neal let out the breath he was holding, wondering what he should do next. He thought about going to one of the nearby houses, but he remembered what Peter and Elizabeth had told him about talking to strangers. He finally decided to stay in the tree for a little longer, making sure that Shawn was truly gone. Then, he would climb down and make his way home.

Elizabeth didn't know what to do with herself, so she decided to bake some cookies. She was tired of thinking of everything that could go wrong and had decided to focus on the fact that her husband, one of the best agents the FBI had ever had, was out looking for Neal. If anyone could find him, it was Peter Burke. She would much rather be out looking for Neal herself, but she knew that she would just be in the way. So, she just did whatever she could to keep herself busy.

As she was baking, she could easily picture Neal standing on the little step stool as he helped her spoon out the cookie dough. She could picture him checking the cookies eagerly, waiting for them to be done. She smiled at the memory of the milk mustache he always got when he ate his cookies and drank his milk. She wanted to make sure that she had cookies ready for him when Peter brought him home.

After Neal thought he had been in the tree long enough, he climbed down and started walking. He wished that he had his coat, but he remembered taking it off when he got into the car at the bakery. Elizabeth had the heat turned up inside the car, so he didn't need his coat. Of course, Shawn didn't think to grab Neal's coat when he grabbed the kid out of the car. He had obviously just been thinking of getting away as fast as he could.

So, now Neal was freezing and to his dismay, it had started raining as well. Within minutes he was completely drenched, miserable and scared. Walking along the edge of the wood behind Shawn's house, he looked longingly at the warm houses he could see, wondering what the people inside were doing. His little legs were already hurting and his chest had started to ache again.

He didn't know how long he had been walking when he saw a garden shed with the door left slightly open. Without really thinking about it, he went inside the shed, eager to get out of the rain. He found an empty space among the garden tools and sat down, pulling his legs up to his chest and putting his arms around them.

Neal didn't even remember closing his eyes, but it was some time later that he was awakened by the sound of someone talking to him. He looked up into the face of a tall man who didn't look happy to find someone hiding out in his shed.

"Hey, kid….What are you doing in my shed? How did you get in here?"

Neal jumped to his feet and without saying a word, he ran around the man, narrowly escaping his grasp. He was surprised to see the sun shining outside when he went through the door. How long had he been asleep? Neal kept on running as fast as his little legs would carry him. He ran until his chest was hurting too much for him to run anymore and when he finally stopped, he found himself standing at the edge of a small brook. Seconds later, he had fallen to his knees in exhaustion and he couldn't stop the tears that were falling down his face.

Neal sat by that brook for a long time, his chest burning, his stomach growling with hunger, and his legs aching. He was still so cold, but the sunshine did serve to warm him up a little. He also drank a little bit from the brook, so at least he wasn't thirsty anymore.

He had no idea what to do and he was terrified. Where was Peter? Why hadn't Peter found him yet? Was he even looking? Neal felt tears burning his eyes again, even though he felt like he had used up all of his tears earlier. Feeling bone tired, he pulled himself up and started walking. He had no idea where he was. Even though he hated to admit it, he was lost.

As he walked along the brook, he was so lost in his anxiety that he didn't hear the man call out to him until he was almost right in front of him.

"Hi, kid…What are you doing way out here? Are you lost?"

Neal looked up to see a short, bald man with glasses standing in front of him. He was too tired and weak to run off like he did the last time, so instead Neal just stopped walking and watched the man warily.

"Are you okay, kid? Are you hurt anywhere?"

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," Neal said in a soft voice.

"Very wise, kid," the man answered. "You never know who you can trust. It's better to keep your distance, and to always watch your back." The man looked around as if he expected to find someone watching him. Looking back at Neal, he continued to question him. "I know you're not supposed to talk to strangers, but since you walked into my camp, maybe you could tell me your name."

Neal looked at the man suspiciously before finally answering. "I'm Neal."

"Neal…..that's a nice name, kid. How old are you…..four?"

"I'm five," Neal said, outraged at being thought a four year old. "How old are you? A hundred?"

"What?!" Now it was the man's turn to be outraged, although he had a small smile on his face. "What makes you think I'm that old?"

Neal giggled at this. "You don't have any hair on your head, mister. That's what happens when you get old!"

The man was still looking insulted, but Neal could tell he wasn't serious about it. "I'll have you know, Neal, that I'm nowhere near a hundred, I'm just follicularly challenged. Now, what are you doing out here all alone?"

Neal wanted desperately to tell the man, so he could help him get back to Peter and Elizabeth, but he was afraid to. This man was still a stranger, even though he was really nice. Before Neal could decide on what to say, his stomach growled loudly, as if to remind him that it was still really hungry.

"Wow, kid….you must be hungry for your stomach to growl so fiercely. Now, normally I wouldn't suggest that you take food from a stranger, but I think we have found ourselves in an uncommon state of affairs. You're hungry, and I just happen to have some food. Stay right there, okay? I'll be right back."

Neal watched as the man scurried over to a strange looking van that he hadn't noticed before. Scurrying back, he held out a picnic basket for Neal to see. "I hope you have a refined palate, young man, because this basket is full of some of the world's finest cheeses. I hope you like caviar, as well."

The man set about laying out a thick blanket and pulling out the different items from the basket. Once he had everything laid out, he told Neal to take what he wanted. Neal looked over the different cheeses, breads and fruits, his tongue sticking out with his concentration. Finally, he picked out some cheese that looked like the cheese that Elizabeth sometimes ate, and he eagerly took a bite. Which he just as eagerly spit out…..

"What is that?!" he sputtered, still trying to get the taste out of his mouth. "Mister, I think your cheese is bad!"

The man laughed at the shocked look on the boy's face. "That's limburger cheese, Neal. It really isn't that bad. In fact, I'd say it smells worse than it tastes, right? Okay, well apparently, your palate is about as refined as most five year olds." Looking through the different cheeses, he picked one out and handed it to Neal. "Try this one. I think it will be more to your liking."

Neal hesitantly took a bite of the cheese the man had handed him and was pleased to see that it was one that he liked. He ate it slowly and meticulously, as he studied the man, who was just as diligently studying him. Eventually, the man started asking questions again.

"I'd wager a bet that there is someone out there looking for you, Neal. They must be very worried. I think I could help you to find them, if you'd like me to."

Neal almost started telling the man everything, but stopped himself. Peter said to never talk to strangers. Never talk to strangers. Never talk to strangers. He kept repeating this to himself while he was munching on the man's food. What would Peter say about eating a stranger's food?

"Listen, Neal…. I know what you're thinking and I don't blame you for being so cautious. In fact, I applaud it. However, we've found ourselves at a little impasse, haven't we? In order for us to move forward, we can no longer be strangers, so I'm prepared to extend my hand in friendship. Hi, Neal…..I'm Mozzie. It's nice to meet you."

Neal shyly shook the man's hand and remembered to be polite, like Elizabeth had told him to be. "It's nice to meet you, too, M-Mozzie."

"There! Now we're not strangers anymore and as my first official act as your friend, I'd like to help you get back home. How do you feel about that, Neal?"

Neal smiled at the man, thinking that this first act sounded wonderful. "I'd like that very much, Mozzie. I miss Lizbef and Peter and I'm tired of missing them. They lost me and I think Lizbef is probably really sad."

"I think she is, too, mon ami. So, why don't you tell me how you came to be out here all by yourself?"

Peter was still at Clayton's house when he heard a commotion outside. Running out with several other agents, he saw a few of their men chasing someone into the woods behind the house. Peter knew it had to be Clayton and for the first time in a while, he felt something akin to hope shoot through him. It took everything he had to not follow them into the woods, but he stayed where he was. He had faith that the agents wouldn't let the man slip through their fingers, especially knowing what was at stake.

After what seemed like hours to Peter, the agents emerged from the woods, leading a young man that looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. Peter could feel his heart speeding up at the sight of them. Once they were nearly to where he was standing, he couldn't control himself any longer. He lunged forward, grabbing the front of Clayton's shirt, causing him to shrink back in fear.

"Where is he, Clayton?! What have you done with him?! I swear, if you've hurt him in any way, I'll kill you!"

Before Peter could say anything else, Agent Dawson was at his side, pulling him back. "Burke, let go! You need to step back! Let us do our jobs, okay?"

Peter fought to be let go from Dawson's grip, but quickly realized what he was doing. Throwing his hands up in the hair, signaling that he was willing to back off, Dawson let him go. Peter stood back and watched as the agents led Clayton to the house. He was surprised to see that somehow the sun had risen and that it was in fact almost mid-morning. He could barely recall the passing of the night. It was all just a jumbled mess of misery to him, as he had waited to hear something….anything.

He was surprised when Dawson allowed him to follow them into the house. He expected to be told to go home, but it seemed that Agent Dawson truly understood that he needed to be there. He knew that Dawson had kids of his own and he figured that that had something to do with it.

They pushed Clayton down into a chair at the table, cuffing his feet through the chair rail. The man looked terrified, which was always a good sign. Peter didn't figure it would take very long to get information out of the man. Looking around as one of the agents read Clayton his Miranda Rights, Peter noticed a chair that had been pushed off to the side of the back door. He wondered if Neal had used that chair to get out of the house. Maybe that's why Clayton was in the woods. Maybe he had been searching for Neal. For some reason the thought made him smile. The kid definitely wasn't lacking in the ingenuity department.

Seconds later, he was completely horrified to think that Neal was outside all alone. It had been cold last night and had even rained several times. The boy could have fallen down somewhere out there. He could have been kidnapped by someone else. So many horrible, awful things could have happened to him. Suddenly, Peter felt sick to his stomach.

They still hadn't gotten much information out of Clayton when the call came through. They knew that he was responsible for causing the accident that allowed him to take Neal, and they knew that he did indeed kidnap the boy. But, after that, the man wasn't giving up any more information. He had decided that the idea of having legal counsel present during the questioning was probably a good idea and he had shut completely up. They were at a standstill.

Agent Dawson received a phone call at that time, though, and was surprised when the person on the other end demanded to talk to Special Agent Peter Burke. "I'm in charge of the case, sir. If you have information pertaining to the kidnapping of Neal Caffrey you need to tell me."

Peter could tell that Dawson was growing angrier by the second and he was surprised when the agent held his phone out to him. "This man says he has information about Neal, but that he will only talk to you. He sounds like a nutcase."

Peter grabbed the phone and quickly identified himself. "Special Agent Peter Burke here. What do you know about Neal?"

"Tell Agent Dawson I heard what he said and that I am not a nutcase just because I don't prescribe to the common misconception that the Federal Bureau of Investigation is in charge of anything. In fact, by not prescribing to that misconception, I am substantiating the fact that I am of much higher intelligence than him."

Peter was quickly growing frustrated, too. "Please…..if you don't have anything worthwhile to tell me about Neal, I need to get off this phone, in case someone else does."

"I suppose that would depend on what you consider worthwhile, Suit. Is it worthwhile to know that Neal is sitting right in front of me at this very moment?"

Peter nearly dropped the phone at the man's words. "Are you serious?"

"Trust me, Suit, there is no way I would willingly call the FBI on my own. The little guy is right here in front of me, looking worried that you're going to be mad at him for talking to a stranger."

Peter couldn't stop the laugh that escaped him, or the desperation in his voice when he spoke again. "Please. Can I talk to him? I need to hear his voice."

Seconds later, he heard the sweetest sound he thought he had ever heard. "Peter?"

"Neal! Are you okay, bud? Are you hurt?"

"I'm okay, Peter. I just wanna go home, okay?"

"Okay, Neal. Let me talk to the man again, okay? He can tell me where you are and I'll come and get you as quick as I can."

Minutes later, Peter had discovered that Neal was just a few miles away. The man, who said his name was Dante Haversham, told Peter that he would meet them on the main road at milepost 33. Peter asked Dawson to only take a few agents, not wanting to scare Neal more than he already was. He also told him that he had promised the man that there wouldn't be any guns. It didn't take long to gather a few of his best agents, and within five minutes, they were on their way to get Neal.

Once they reached the appointed milepost, Peter watched as a multitude of cars drove by. He knew that they were looking for a VW van and he found it amazing that several of them had already passed. On any other day, he doubted that he would have even seen a single one drive by. Finally, they noticed a van slow down right by the mile marker, not coming to a complete stop, but inching along. Peter jumped out of the sedan with Dawson yelling at him to come back. He didn't care if he was following protocol or not. For some reason, he believed that the man only had Neal's best interests at heart. He didn't know why he felt that way, but he thought that maybe it had something to do with how Neal was on the phone. He didn't really sound scared, he just sounded tired.

As Peter stood there with his hands out to the side, showing the man that he had no intention of pulling out a gun, he watched as the driver's side door opened. A short, bald man stepped out and in his arms was a smiling Neal. The man put Neal down on the ground and within seconds Peter's arms were full of an extremely filthy, excited, and relieved little boy.

"I knew you'd find me, Peter…..I knew it!" Neal said.

Peter held on to the boy for a bit, but then gently pushed him away to get a better look at him. Other than being dirty and looking exhausted, he couldn't see any other physical signs of injury. Of course, Neal would have to get checked out at the hospital, but Peter knew that he would be okay.

Neal suddenly grabbed Peter's face with his little hands and looked him deep in the eyes. "I missed you, Peter. Did you miss me?"

"You have no idea, little man, how much you were missed!" Peter answered.

Peter looked up just in time to see the man who had brought Neal to him getting back into the van, despite being told to not move. To Peter's horror, several of the agents had their weapons out and trained on the man. Putting Neal down on the ground, he turned back to look at Jim Dawson.

"Agent Dawson," he yelled. "I told him there wouldn't be any guns. Please tell your men to lower their weapons."

At the same time that Peter was yelling that, Neal was yelling, too. "Don't shoot Mozzie! He's my friend!" With that, he ran back over to the open van door, escaping Peter's fingers by millimeters.

"Neal! Get back here!" Peter yelled. He couldn't believe the boy ran off, especially when there were several agents pointing guns in the same direction. "Neal!"

Peter yelled again at everyone to lower their weapons and they finally listened. Without wasting another second, Peter turned and ran toward the van, pulling himself up shortly in front of the door. "Haversham, hand him over!"

The short man gave Peter a sharp look before turning his attention on Neal. "Listen, Neal….they're not going to shoot me, okay? Your Special Agent Peter Burke gave me his word. So, you don't have to worry about me."

Neal didn't look convinced at all, especially when he saw Peter's hand resting on his holster. "Peter, please! I know I wasn't supposed to talk to strangers, but I had to because Mozzie said that we were at a um….a … uh….little um…..well, I don't remember what he said, but he helped me help you find me, Peter, and he doesn't deserve to be shot!"

Peter reached up and took Neal from the man's arms. "No one's getting shot today, Neal. I promise! Now, Mr. Haversham, if you could just answer a few questions for us….."

"I'll only talk to you, Suit. That other agent called me a nutcase, remember?"

"I'm sorry about that," Peter replied. "We were all under a lot of stress. I'd like to hear how you came to find Neal, if you don't mind."

After Peter had talked with the man that Neal had called Mozzie, he rode with the ambulance as it took Neal to the hospital to be checked out. Neal, of course, hadn't stopped talking since they got into the ambulance. Peter had to admit that the paramedics were exceptionally patient with the little boy.

"What does that do, John? Does that thing hurt? What about that? Do you use that a lot? You're not gonna use that on me, are you?"

The questions never seemed to end and Peter just sat back, savoring the sound of Neal's voice. Suddenly, he shot forward with a strange look on his face. "Damn it! I forgot to call El. She's going to kill me!" Pulling out his phone, he quickly called home. "El, I have someone here who wants to talk to you…."

He handed the phone over to Neal and smiled at the kid's words. "Hi, Lizbef...It's me, Neal! Peter found me!"

Author's note: Well, Neal is finally safe with Peter. Yay! And Mozzie has arrived! Things are looking up for our little family, but don't worry... it's not over yet. We still don't know who is behind the kidnapping, right? And do you really think they're going to give up that easily?

I hope you enjoyed the chapter. As always, thanks for reading and reviewing. And to all the guest reviewers, I wish I could reply to each of you, but just know that I appreciate all of you. Readers who take the time to review make me so happy! And when I'm happy, I want to write more, lol.