Past Haunts: Chapter 11
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AN: Thanks to BlueDiamondStar for making me laugh out loud at my mistake in the previous chapter. I just picked a random country, and I misspelled it! I meant to write Estonia. When I read your comment, I couldn't believe my blunder and actually looked to see if there really is an Astonia. I think there is a city in NY by that name, but the main thing, and this made me lose it, was a video game fantasy world. I could not believe it! So, sorry! Misspelling comes with some interesting consequences! Thank you for inadvertently correcting me and bringing me a good amount of laughs for the day.:)
Warnings: Neal whumpage, and some mentions of past non con. there may be triggers in this story from abuse sections. I apologize for not mentioning this earlier.
Disclaimer: I don't own white collar, just this plot line and OC. *sigh*
New York Taxis, A Forger at Work, and Bad Mental Images
Neal helped clean up the dishes afterward. Thank goodness the Burkes didn't have him put the plates and heavy bowls away. All they had him do was dry and pass the plates to Peter. Neal was unbelievably grateful. He wasn't sure he could handle much more that day, but he knew they had to work on the case. He passed Peter the last plate and leaned back against the damp kitchen counter.
"So, Peter, I didn't have time to grab supplies to pull of this Degas, but I need to get started on it, like now. Just point me in a direction, and I'll call Mozz to-" El placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Already done. I figured you would need supplies anyway, so I called Mozzie just a little bit before you got here. He should be here any minute." Neal couldn't help but stare at the amazing woman in front of him. Without taking his widened eyes off of her smirking face, he said, "Peter, if you ever do anything stupid, remember to give El my address again. How the heck are you so lucky?" Peter chuckled and clapped a hand, surprisingly gently, on the young man's shoulder.
"First off, no way in heck. Second, well I like to think of it as the Burke charm. Same thing happened to my dad. He found the perfect woman, and she managed to put up with him for forty years before he died." Neal smiled as he saw the love flowing between the two, but he also couldn't stop the pang of jealousy and hurt and loneliness. Looking back, he saw that what he had with Kate was nothing like this, just a fantasy built up in his head. A knock at the door broke the moment.
"Mr. And Mrs. Suit, I can feel the sickening ooze of government sanctioned feelings all the way out here! If you can pause for a moment, could you help me get this stuff inside?!" Neal rolled his eyes in sync with Peter, before they both went to answer the door.
The door swung open to reveal a comically burdened Mozzie with a tomato red face, his large glasses slowly slipping off his nose from the sweat building up under the support frame.
"Took you long enough! Do you know how far I had to drag this here?" Peter gave the short man an incredulous look as he took a large wooden easel out of his arms.
"You said you were five minutes away." Neal had to squelch the laughter that threatened to burst out at the look Mozz gave the agent.
"This is New York City! Five minutes means it will take me five minutes to get five feet by taxi! I refuse to sit in the back of those germ infested cess pools, so I walked. What I didn't know was they were doing construction on the sidewalk, sidewalk!, of fifth, so I had to cut all the way around to go through the park, but the park was closed, because they were setting up for some awful folksy concert, so I-"
"Mozz! We get it. Long walk. Thanks though." As Neal reached out to take the paints and brushes from Mozzie, he raised his brows when his friend pulled back.
"Mozz, I can-" Mozzie simply shook his hand at him and walked past. Neal didn't see the look his two friends shared behind his back. Once all the supplies were set up in an open space between the kitchen and dining room, Mozzie looked around and sighed.
"I am sorry, mon feir, (probs spelled that totally wrong! Sorry) but I must be off. Let me know if you need anything else." And with that Mozz was gone. Neal didn't even get to say goodbye. He turned to Peter.
"That was... odd, even for Mozzie." The agent simply shrugged it off.
"Maybe he decided to mess with us and have a non-Mozzie day. I can never tell with him." With a small shrug of his shoulders, Neal accepted it (he was too tired to argue) and examined the supplies.
"This is everything, but... oven's too small... Elizabeth, I'm going to need to use your hair dryer to help age this." El nodded eagerly.
"I can't wait to see how the great Neal Caffrey does it. Would it bother you if I watch?" Neal was grinning wide enough to compete with the Cheshire cat, and Peter scowled.
"Don't encourage him, Hon. The last thing we need is a con who forges, because he thinks people want him too."
"Aw, come on, Peter. El, just appreciates art in the making." El nodded as enthusiastically as the first time.
"That's right. Especially such a masterpiece like Degas." Peter just threw his hands up and threw himself down on the couch to put the game on.
"You two have fun breaking the law, for a case don't forget, and I'll just enjoy my basketball. Oh, and Neal, we're gathering more info on Crowley as we speak ,but it's taking longer than the techs thought. So we should have more to give you for your undercover op in a day or two. Hughes is giving you that time off to get ahead on your Degas." Neal couldn't believe it. Hughes was giving him time off to work on a forgery? That had to be a first. Typically, he was just expected to get it done in his after work hours, but he had to admit, with his sore body (it would be even worse tomorrow), he would have trouble being as precise as he needed to pull this off. The extra time would be a great help. So he set up and got started.
El pulled up a chair for him and herself, and took a seat. She wanted to watch him work, yes, but she also just wanted to be near him. She could see he was in pain, and wanted to comfort him. El knew Peter and Moz were right in telling her to act like nothing was going on until Neal came to them, but at least this way she felt like she was still able to keep an eye on him. Her son.
Neal lost track of time. In some back part of his mind, he registered Peter and El going to bed. He didn't acknowledge it, too consumed by his work. It was like a drug, helping him forget. Erasing the pain and shame for just a moment. Everything felt perfect, like he was painting himself a different reality. He felt safe for the first time in a while.
Neal woke with a start. He was on the couch with a blanket draped over him, and paint smears on his hands. As he heard El and Peter talking at the table, he realized what had woken him up. Breakfast. His stomach grumbled loudly enough to make Neal blush. Peter and El didn't mention that they heard it where they sat, just simply shared an amused smile across the table. Neal had a time getting up with out jostling his seriously sore body. He was surprised he could even sit up. Passing out on the couch was not the best idea, but in the middle of the night, the couch was a lot closer than his room upstairs.
Neal came up and rubbed his eyes, as he got a view of the couple eating. He simply stole Peter's cereal and poured some into a bowl already set out for him. This would seem rather rude to an outsider, but to the Burkes, this was Neal. The first real glimpse of him they had seen in a while. Peter noted the dark circles under his son's eyes.
"Sleep well, Bud?" For the first time that morning, Neal actually looked at them instead of through them. He immediately straightened his posture and became Neal Caffrey, the suave con man, who was not relaxing at a Fed's table for breakfast like he belonged there. The only thing genuine was his comfortable smile.
"Yeah. Sorry for just collapsing on your couch though. It was calling to me after about two in the morning." Peter snorted and shook his head. El gave him a mother look.
"Neal, Sweetie, you have to actually get some sleep while you're here."
"Yeah, Neal. Hughes gave you these two days off so you can work during the day, and you have to be awake to get that Caffrey mind to work." Neal playfully brushed off the hand Peter was ruffling his hair with.
"Peter! Yeah, I'll sleep. I just got caught up in the painting is all." In truth, Neal didn't want to fall asleep, afraid he would wake up back at home with Frank. That it would all be a dream. He was glad to see it wasn't though.
They finished breakfast together. Then El and Peter got up to go to work. It was a very odd scenario for Neal, who always went with Peter. He felt like a kid left home from school for being sick. It was an odd analogy, but an amusing one to his sleep addled mind.
"Neal, Honey, could you take Satch for a walk today at some point? He really likes going out to the park with you." Peter shook his head at her and gave her their daily morning kiss.
"Hun, Neal's got work to do today-" Neal waved a hand at Peter.
"Peter, it's fine. I haven't spent time with Satchmo for a while, and it'll only take like thirty minutes. I'd be happy to do it." El grinned smugly at her husband.
"Ha. Thanks Neal. Help yourself to anything in the fridge."
"Don't burn my house down, Kid. I don't want to come back to find cops at my door." Neal finally got them to leave. They were going to be late if they kept telling him the Do's and Don't's as if he hadn't house sat for them before.
"I'll be good. Now go before Hughes gives your office away. I'm sure you wouldn't want to see Clark with his butt in your chair." That image got him going with a disturbed shudder.
"Thanks for that image." And they were finally gone.
Hope you enjoyed that:) Never forget to review, it helps with writers block:) Sorry the moment was not in this chap, but I assure you it is (I think...) in the next one! So, next time on Past Haunts: A phone call puts in motion events that can go very right or very wrong... will Neal still have a family? Stay tuned... :) Probs a bit over dramatic, but I gots to leave you hangin' somehow;)
PS. I love hearing suggestions for directions of stories (like.. IDK what to do with Frank... food for thought). Also I am open to writing stories for people:) Keep in mind I don't do crossovers, slash, or rated M material. Keep it F/M and rated T or below and I'll be happy to give it a go.:)