He stood beside the bed, frozen, gazing at the body there. The man was always so full of life, of movement… he was supposed to be squirming impatiently…grinning…cracking jokes… Peter took in the scene before him quietly, resisting the urge to lose control took all of his will… the scene was all too familiar…with a pained breath he studied the pale expressionless features, from the lightly closed eyes, dark lashes resting on grey white cheeks, to the colorless lips… parted slightly by the loose jaw, head drooping marginally to the side. He glanced at the quiet sagging limbs, right hand resting across the body… a sheet covering the bare frame to the waist… he took in the silent stillness… absolute stillness… the sunken motionless chest…
That, Peter decided, was the most disturbing part… Neal wasn't breathing… it sent a chill through him… the doctors assured him the younger man was alive… but the lack of physical evidence was horrifying. He didn't breathe… he had no pulse… his skin was cool to the touch. Tubes twisted away from his chest carrying blood to and from his body… to a machine that quietly did the job his heart and lungs should have been doing. Dr. Lindsey Cole had walked him through exactly how it worked… along with a list of potential complications that made his head spin. The machine, she said, really wasn't designed to be used more than a few hours… but in extreme cases such as this… it could maintain life for a few days…
Bandages covered most of his chest… his cheek… his wrists…bruises marked much of his visible flesh… a splint held his left arm rigid, though the fingers curled around it limply…
A litany of other tubes and wires cluttered the bed twisting into and around his quiet form … catheters… drainage tubes…IVs… he had no idea what the purpose of most of them were… only that they were there to sustain life in a body that did not breathe…
Peter took a breath… and touched his friend's cold arm gently…keeping him slightly hypothermic was necessary the doctor said… it lessened the chance of organ damage to keep his core temperature at 94 degrees… it still felt a h*** of a lot like death. He forced his hand to pat the arm reassuringly… to brush at the dark hair softly…to clutch a slim hand convulsively… to do anything but stand there utterly helpless…
He could leave … Neal wouldn't wake... they were keeping him unconscious through this… thankfully. They promised he wasn't in pain… that he was resting comfortably … peacefully… He could walk away, Neal probably didn't know he was there but… after the doctor's devastating news and the gut wrenching decision to let them stop the younger man's heart… after waiting through 8 hours of surgery to control the bleeding and stabilize fractures… he needed to be here, at least for a while. He wasn't a praying man but while he cradled that still hand… he sent a silent plea upward that this would work… and that if it did, the man that came out of it would still be the man he knew. Dr. Cole said brain damage was a real possibility… though she wouldn't discuss the potential severity.
"Let's just get him through the next few days" she said… "One step at a time." Her voice was gentle.
He lay his hand on the dark hair again…
"You will get through this… you hear me… I don't know what the future holds… but you hang on and we will deal with the rest when it comes."
Peter jumped slightly as the door opened.
"Hey Boss" Diana stepped into the room her eyes drifting involuntarily to the bed… she gasped, paling slightly.
"Diana ..." she pulled her gaze back to his face with a small shudder.
"I'm sorry boss…it's just… he looks…" she swallowed
"I know…"
"I'm sorry…" she collected herself quickly "I came to tell you Agent Reynolds asked me to talk to you."
"What does he have to say…"
"About … about the case… not much." Her smile was tight. "He is… contrite…" Diana gave him a hard look, her eyes expressing exactly what she thought of that. "He's told me a dozen times he's sorry" Peter snorted "he asked me to tell you how sorry he is"
"I don't want his apology!" he snapped harshly, tears threatened him but he blinked them away "Unless he can somehow make this right… make this go away…"
"I know boss, but he is working the case…"
"Yeah…" Peter sighed and sank into the chair suddenly exhausted. Something tickled at his memory… "Diana…" he looked up "Neal gave me a name… this morning… while they were trying… trying to get him out…"
"A name?"
"Yeah… Wilson… he said the man who took them… his name is Wilson…" for just a moment he was tempted to stop there but for the child's sake he continued "he said Reynolds should … keep Emily safe… that Wilson said something about teaching her daddy a lesson."
"I'll let him know…
"Thanks' he slumped back in the chair… "I'm going to stay here tonight… tell him I'll be in his office tomorrow."
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Thomas stared at the computer screen…his eyes blurring. He was tired… exhausted, but he couldn't go home… he had to find something… a clue to go on. He couldn't fix this… couldn't undo what he had done but… maybe if he could just find …something…insure that justice was done… maybe that would… He ran his fingers through his hair… midnight… he had been up almost 21 hours…he wished he could go home and sleep but… he closed his eyes… he could still see…
A black wrought iron sconce nearly 8 feet from the ground…the wall beneath it was smeared with blood, the ground splattered with it…he could imagine the pain that position must have caused…the broken twine lay on the floor… still damp with the scarlet liquid… Jim found it …amid the chaos of the rescue. A crime scene oddly preserved … 15 feet from the yawning chasm in the floor... the man would have been safe if he had just stayed there… or fled through the door… but he had gone to the other side of the room… toward the danger… the implications were clear…even to the younger agents… Not that Reynolds needed any more proof…
Emily cried out in her sleep. Tossed her head pitifully as she slept on the couch. He should have taken her home but he couldn't bear to let her out of his sight. "DAAADDDYY!" She screamed, bolting up. He caught her gently…
"Its ok baby…its ok daddy's here."
"d- dad-dy" she sobbed clinging to him. "Bad man grabbed me."
"I know baby, I know"
"He grabbed me and then everyting broked…" his heart froze as he realized suddenly who she meant.
"Emily… baby…"
"The other man made me go with him…"
"I know…"
"The bad man singed to me… but I membered what you said… and I tried not to let him grab me… I hit him… and bited him but he grabbed me and … and… everyting broked"
"You fought him? Oh baby…" he didn't really want to hear the rest, but he desperately hoped she was talking about their abductor "how long after he grabbed you did everything break?" she looked at him confused…
"When he grabbed me…. And…and den he didn't let go…and it was dark and scary and …and…I heared you but he wouldn't LET ME GO!" she was sobbing now… Thomas clutched her to him… tears in his own eyes.
"Emily… baby?" he felt sick as the reality hit him… his own words… Emily could have died because he told her to be afraid of the man… Caffrey probably would die…might be dead already… "I did this …he might have been able to get them out… at least get them to the other side of the room … the relatively undamaged side of the room… I did this!" he thought. "Baby…I'm sorry…I shouldn't have told you Mr. … Mr. Collins was a bad man…"
"But…"
"Emily listen to me, daddy was wrong…"he took her little hand in his and looked straight into her eyes "Mr. Collins was trying to take care of you… to make sure you got home to me…he did take care of you" now for the hard part "baby… he was hurt … really bad… to make sure you came home to daddy…and now… now he might go away like mommy did."
The little girl considered that… "Daddy…" she said softly… "Would Molly and my blankie make him feel better?" he smiled at her
"I don't know baby… I just don't know." he cuddled her close as she drifted off easily…
A knock brought his head up. Agent Berrigan stood in the door way… she looked as exhausted as he felt… a dark haunted look lingered in the back of her eyes… sending a chill through him. He knew what that look probably meant.
"Did you see… agent Burke?"
"I did."
"Any news… how is…?"
"Alive… technically… for now" She clipped bitterly, then she took a steadying breath, a bit calmer she continued in a coolly professional tone "Peter…said Neal gave him a name for their abductor…"
Thomas stared at her. "He gave us a name?" disbelief laced his voice.
"Wilson…" she glanced at Emily hesitantly. "Agent Reynolds… Neal gave Peter a message for you… he said to protect Emily… that Wilson was supposed to teach you a lesson." The urge to be sick was back… Emily was still in danger… the man he threatened to kill this morning was still protecting her… even as he was dying … Worse he was supposed to protect the young man… he placed his life in Thomas' hands… and Thomas threw him away…like so much garbage… and he still lay down his life for Emily. Reynolds wondered if the guilt would ever wash away… he glowered at his hands… he had a feeling he would see blood on them… for a very long time.
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Diana carefully lay the pictures out in front of the foreman… Reynolds ran the name Wilson through the system overnight, both as a first and a last name… narrowed by those known to be in the area… narrowed it further by their criminal history… he came up with four names.
She had hardly gotten the pictures arranged when the sturdy man grabbed the third one…
"I know him." his eyes flicker to her face nervously
"How?" She stared him down "Did you see him yesterday?"
"Yeah," he gulped "yeah I did. He was the inspector who cleared the building."
"He's the one who told you the building was empty? Are you sure?"
"Yes" another gulp as he handed the picture back to her with a trembling hand "he's the one"
"Thank you." She gave him a stiff smile... she reached for the door handle.
"The young man…" the foreman's voice shook "From yesterday… did he… did he make it?" Diana scowled. She really didn't want to discuss this but…
"We don't know yet…" her voice cracked slightly "he's still… hanging in there but…it's bad." the man nodded. Diana hurried out then before he could catch the hint of tears in her eyes.
In the car she looked at the picture he selected… Henry J. Wilson… freelance enforcer… 25 years in the business… he never been convicted of anything but simple assault but he had been suspected in close to a dozen aggravated assaults and 4 or 5 disappearances/ murders. Unlike most enforcers he was a slim built man with thinning grey hair and steel grey eyes… his methods were known to be unconventional… a building demolition was right up his alley actually… his methods and being a known associate of a man that matched Neal's drawing of one of the shooters…had placed him at the top of the list… now with an ID, it just came down to finding him…and his friend Lance Chambers… she swore they wouldn't get far.
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Peter focused on his coffee…he couldn't stare at the computer … or the papers scattered across his borrowed desk any more…his body ached with fatigue, sleeping in a hospital chair was uncomfortable at best. Doing so under the current circumstance was… almost impossible… the only reason he slept at all was sheer collapse.
Dr. Cole assured him this morning that nothing had changed…Neal was doing as well as could be expected…there was no evidence of blood clots or worsening organ failure, his bruised kidneys and liver were still holding up … they would know more when they tried to upgrade him to a ventilator in a couple of days, until then… he remained in a medically induced coma and the machine would keep him alive… there really wasn't anything else to assess…the conversation was both comforting and devastating.
After that he just couldn't be there anymore, couldn't think about a vent being an upgrade in status. He needed some space …something else to focus his mind on. . He could be more useful at the office. So he left… leaving his number with the staff and stipulating they call if there was even the slightest change.
He promised Neal softly he would be back soon… he knew it was ridiculous, but part of him hoped for a response… even a tiny one…but the young man continued to lay as motionless and pallid as death… his icy hand as pliable and unresponsive as a wet dish rag. Not even the slightest quiver of an eyelash acknowledged his words… Peter sighed, squeezing the lifeless hand once more before draping it tenderly across the still abdomen… and turning away.
Guards were posted outside the room… young agents who yesterday morning had sneered at his defense of Neal's innocence… this morning they stood at solemn attention with chastised expressions and did not meet his eye. He noticed their fugitive glances into the room, regret … shame… and something else he couldn't quite place, in their eyes. Whatever happened in that collapsed building… it was more than just finding Neal there… there was something no one was telling him…
Reynolds didn't say a word when Peter strode through the door and announced that he was going to be part of the investigation… simply waved him to an empty desk and gave him access to the case files without meeting his eyes. The entire office was looking for Henry Wilson… Peter wanted them to find him…but he was more interested in who he took his orders from… because if they couldn't find that person…there would be more Wilsons…assuming of course, he sighed almost hopelessly, there was still a target.
Three hours in and he allowed himself a break for coffee…because his weary eyes refused to focus anymore…
"Agent Burke?" Reynolds sounded surprised…and nervous "I didn't realize you were in here." He turned to go…then paused… looked back and steeled himself "I should have listened to you from the beginning and I will understand if you recommend a review board for disciplinary action."
With an effort Peter quashed the desire to lash out at the man…to put his hand around his throat and throttle him… to bust his lip…and kept his voice low… "I'm interested in one thing from you right now…and one thing only…you help me find whoever is behind this… and when we do… they go away… for good."
"I guarantee it. Agent Burke…"
"Good" he turned away dismissively, finished with the conversation.
"I…know it doesn't change anything but…I'm-"
"Don't!" He hissed, "Don't you DARE say you are sorry…" his look could have stripped the paint from the walls, his quiet voice dangerous "I'm not the one you need to ask forgiveness…After Neal says he forgives you … then you can ask me to" Peter sank into a chair, they both knew the likelihood of that ever happening. Silence enveloped the room… lingering heavy in the air…
"Still if there is anything I can…"
"There isn't." his voice radiated ice
"I should have known-."
"Yes. You should have"
"For what it's worth… if I could go back…"
"But we can't!" Reynolds suddenly found a small stain on the carpet very interesting…
"I know" he turned to go
"I hoped …" Peter said mostly to himself but Reynolds stopped in the door. "just this once the system would work for him…he deserves it after everything we've done to him…all we've put him through…Justice is supposed to be for everyone… I'm not sure I believe that now." Then remembering he wasn't alone he pulled himself together
"You don't think the system works Agent Burke?"
"Most of the time it does…" he sighed "but not for Neal...not ever for Neal…" he stalked back to his desk.