Past Haunts: Chapter 21

Sorry to all those expecting Frank. Read on and you'll understand. :)

Enjoy:)

Warnings: -_- really guys? you should know the warnings by now...

Disclaimer: I don't own white collar, just this plot line and OC. *sigh*

Not Frank, Work, and Marked Cars

Neal was out like a light, and no one would blame him for it. He was exhausted; they all were. So the pillow and comfy mattress knocked him out as soon as he laid down. His rest was as peaceful as they come, that is, until about five in the morning. The nightmare had started out like most, Kate, the music box, Frank and his belt, Adler with a gun, heat and pain.
The flames from the exploding plane though soon morphed into hands and faces. Peter and El were in the fire screaming in agony, and when they saw him, their cries turned to rage.
"How could you We trusted you, Neal Look what you did to us " They reached out to drag him into the flames with him. He was petrified, but when they laid hands on him, he fought for his life. He kicked and screamed and did all he could, all with devastating tears running down his face. Then, above the flames and his own screams, he heard a stomach-churning laughter coming from everywhere. He recognized it immediately, and looked around for his uncle, but he was nowhere to be seen, but everywhere to be heard. Neal couldn't block him out, couldn't get away from the pain. He screamed as loud as he could-
Then he woke up, once again surrounded by arms causing him to enact his fight response. The arms tightened, and it took the slow circles on his back and the calming reassurances in his ear to make him realize he wasn't in a nightmare anymore. It was... Peter. Oh, good Peter. He was safe. Everything was okay.
"You're okay, Bud. You're safe here. It's okay. You're fine. Just breathe." After taking a moment to catch his breath, he felt blood rush to his cheeks in embarrassment. He was being treated like a six year old that had a nightmare about the boogeyman. And he was Neal Caffrey. And a full grown man. And that was unacceptable. Neal cleared his throat and pulled back. Well, tried to pull back. Peter held him in place as much as he could.
"Neal, I need this as much as you. Cowboy up and accept the fact that I am hugging you." Neal inwardly rolled his eyes and replaced his arms around his FBI agent/dad-like older friend? Why put a label on it. They are family, and that's all that matters. It seemed like forever before Peter let him go, and when he finally did, Neal couldn't help but be upset at the loss of warmth. Peter couldn't tell in the dark, but he was sure his son's cheeks were bright red, and to be honest that didn't matter.
"Neal, I know that was just a dream, but are you alright? Do you want to talk about it?" The con shook his head and then gave Peter a small smile in reconciliation.
"Sorry. Haven't had such a bad nightmare in years. Hope I didn't...wake... you?" Neal finally noticed that Peter was fully dressed for work. Thinking he was late, he made to jump from his spot on the bed to get ready. Peter laid a hand on his chest and pushed him back down.
"No, Neal. There was a situation at the Bureau, and they've called me in. You're staying here." Neal flashed Peter an incredulous look.
"You're kidding, right? What could have happened that they want you but not me there?" A thought struck him. "You're not in trouble are you?" Neal had been worried that Hughes would be upset with Peter being away from work so much with such a big case hanging over their heads.
"No, I'm not, but... Neal, Frank stole something from the Evidence Depository. It was something tied to Obadiah Crowley, and there's a lot of people upset over this. They're gonna be looking for someone to go after-"
"And if you show up with a con who happens to be related to the guy who did this, they'll come right to me." Peter nodded, and Neal dropped his head into his hands. Not for the first time, he wished he had a normal life. Well, relatively normal. Well, everything the same minus some perv sociopathic uncle. That is one thing he could always live without.

Peter left not too long after their 'moment in the bedroom' as El liked to call it. It made her giggle, while it just made Neal grumble. So here he was, stuck at the Burke's house, playing with the dog on the floor. Well, Neal thought, At least one of us is happy. And Satch was. Very happy. Elizabeth was in the kitchen making breakfast, and Neal was on the floor getting slobbered on and covered in short gold hair. Neal had to watch sometimes for a wild tail; he knew from experience the bruises that thing could make. He stared intently at Satch's smiling face, then sighed.
"Satch, you are never not happy are you?" The lab seemed to smile more then gave a short bark in reply. Neal couldn't help but chuckle. "I'll take that as a no."
"Neal, dear, breakfast is ready." Neal patted the dog on the head and glanced out the front window as he walked to the table. The marked car had arrived not ten minutes after Peter had left, and Neal, having the history with law enforcement that he does, was having a hard time not being tense about seeing it there. He felt like an escape route was blocked, which in a way it was.
Once the meal was finished and the dishes put away, El suggested they do something to distract themselves. Neal just shrugged.
"Um, sure. What do you want to do?" He would have loved to take Satchmo for a walk in the park, but he knew then he would have to be followed around by a squad car which would do nothing for his nerves. El seemed to give the question serious thought. Seeing her like that gave Neal an idea.
"What would you say to posing for a drawing?" Neal was already sketching her out on his mind canvas, when she brightened.
"I think that's a lovely idea " And so that's what they did. Neal had El sit in her arm chair and read. He settled on the couch opposite her and set to work. It wasn't long before the drawing was complete.
"Oh, Neal, it's lovely Can you do another?" Neal hadn't heard such enthusiasm in his work since Frank realized he could exploit it. It made him smile and readily agree. A couple hours later, Neal's sketch pad was filled with sketches of Mrs. Burke... and Satch, cause he had to admit, the dog was a ham and if he was going to go out of his way to pose for him, well, Neal wasn't going to object. El was beaming as she set out plates for lunch. Neal was in the kitchen preparing the meal... when the back door burst open.

Okay! Cliffie! There is a bit left, maybe 3-5 chaps worth. I'll write as fast as I can, so please bear with me :) Luv all of you kind readers!:)