Peter ran his fingers through his hair… he missed his home… his wife, his little boy… but he couldn't risk bringing them into this... Not while they suspected Flannery and Martinez might be connected to someone with serious connections in law enforcement… Even with them in New York he worried…
He stepped out of the elevator… following the familiar hallway to the small hospital room…with two stiffly alert guards … Visiting Neal for a few hours in the evening before going back to his hotel room had become a ritual… he sighed as he thought of his friend… 2 weeks since he woke up and 5 more surgeries and he was still in the ICU…Dr. Cole said she was impressed by his progress but the kid still couldn't breathe without support…his lungs were healing well but… the damage was extensive, she reminded him daily, he might never have more that 50% lung function… that even now he was not entirely out of danger… for all his progress, it would only take one thing… one complication… one moment of too much stress… he tried to physically shake the thought away.
He wished he could tell Elle how badly Neal was hurt… she didn't understand why he couldn't come home yet… she didn't understand the fear he couldn't suppress that if he left… missed even one visit…even after so much time… the young man would slip away… he wanted to confide in her… share this worry that gnawed at him…but he knew if he did, there would be no stopping her from coming… so he kept the truth from his wife … because keeping her safe was the most important thing…
When Peter stepped inside, it was quiet except for the normal soft sounds of the room. Briefly he wondered when the whooshing of a respirator had become normal, before he sat down to wait. At least they took the d*** tube out of Neal's throat a couple of days ago… a strange looking device covered his nose… still actively assisting his lungs…still pushing air into and out of his chest…but allowing him to talk… when he was awake… and had the energy… it was frightening how much a simple conversation seemed to take out of him…
Right now he slept, curled on his right side, left leg propped up carefully… the least painful position for him to lie. He still slept through most of Peter's visits… after various exhausting therapies …physical therapy for his right arm and leg to minimize muscular degeneration, his left side was still effectively immobilized by plastic and titanium… respiratory therapy, and, to Peter's amusement… psychological therapy. The first two were progressing as well as anyone expected… the third…well… given the need for discretion in an open investigation and Neal's own natural evasiveness…the therapist, after hearing he was inside a building when it was demolished and refused to discuss why… followed by a very drugged Caffrey informing him that he destroyed everyone around him… seemed to think he was suicidal and recommended restraints and anti-depressants. Neal had managed an offended smile at that…and refused, before changing the subject to the therapist's own past… the man left in defeat after just a few minutes that day. A new therapist was assigned to him the next day
A small tap on the door… Reynold moved inside guardedly … his look of trepidation every time he had to be near this room made Peter wonder for the thousandth time… What exactly happened in that collapsed basement? The younger agent had exuded guilt at disturbing levels in the three weeks since the incident…It was almost enough for Peter to feel for the man… almost. The agents on the protection detail had obviously heard what caused his change of heart… they had been nothing but competent, respectful and ashamed since that day.
"I thought you might want to know…" green eyes darting to the bed and back to Peter…restless eyes filled with horror and guilt…a convulsive swallow "Flannery and Martinez had dinner at the same restaurant at the same time tonight.'
"They had dinner together?"
"Not together, no… opposite sides of the place … it's nowhere near enough for any kind of warrant but…"
"It's something."
"Yeah"
"Peter?" they both started at the third voice, little more than a breathy whisper, turning to face him…
"Hey Neal" Peter's voice dropped slightly… becoming gentle…soothing… "Keep him quiet…absolutely no stress" echoing in his mind
"Hey… Peter…" He smiled... his broken mask still didn't even begin to cover the pain in his face. Blue eyes flitted to the other man nervously… "Reynolds…?" a panicky edge touched his voice "Emily? Is she ok?"
"She's fine… she's safe…" Neal's grin brightened dramatically, Thomas continued "I never did… I don't…I don't know how to…" he stammered uncomfortably. He pulled out a folded piece of paper… nervously opening it to reveal a child's drawing… a tiny stick person surrounded by the arms of a bigger one "she wanted me to give you this… a while ago actually but…it's you and her… I'm sorry, it's a little rumpled…" he finished apologetically
"Thank you…" the young man smiled brightly,as Reynolds placed the drawing in his left hand…though his eyes remained serious. "I'm glad she …is ok…" the silence was awkward. Neal broke it… "Peter… what… were those… names…?"
"The names?" he had been careful not to talk about the investigation with the younger man…trying not to upset him, remembering Dr. Cole's strict orders "keep him quiet… absolutely no stress… his system simply cannot take it."
"The suspects…Peter…I'm broken… not stupid. Flannery …and Martinez…right?" Neal might not be able to get more than a couple words out between gasps but the smirk was the same old Caffrey. Peter nodded...smiling slightly…
"Morgan Flannery and Tomas Martinez… why?"
"I know …those names…"
"Not old partners I hope…"
"Not my … kind of… criminal…" he smiled "you know… how I … feel about… guns…"
"I do."
"Drugs… not high … on my…list …either"
"Yet you know exactly what they deal in…" Neal shot him an innocent look…
"Helps to …know… who …to avoid."
"Or who might deserve ripping off.'
"Flannery …does have …some nice …Gaelic ant… antiquities"
"Please tell me none of them came from you?" he shook his head
"Thought… about it…" Neal's eyes sparkled "but…no"
"Good." Peter watched his eyes close a moment…his weakness evident… "You should rest… we'll take this conversation outside."
"I think… I can help…"
"Neal, you can't sit up… whatever you're thinking…it's not happening." That earned him a reproachful look.
"There's… something…" he hesitated… breathing heavily… "I have…something… a contract…"
"Another one?" Peter's lips twitched... Neal just rolled his eyes.
"Signed by…Morgan…Flannery… Tomas… Mar…tinez… and…"Neal grinned weakly "Clarence…Walker…" Peter's heart froze…a glance at Reynolds said he knew that name too…
"Clarence Walker?" his voice cracked. "East coast regional director of the NSA, Clarence Walker?" his friend nodded…Reynold gulped audibly.
" Recently retired…"Neal amended
"D*** it Neal." He stumbled over the horrified words that tried to tumble out all at once. "You knew that and… d*** it Neal!" the younger man opened his mouth to answer then wisely decided to keep quiet for once. "Why didn't you tell us…?"
"Wasn't… sure… it was… connected." He panted "until… you mentioned…the others...I hoped… it wasn't…"
"You have this contract? How?" Reynold broke in…
"Was in… Nolen's… safe…" Neal didn't meet the agent's stare.
"You stole it…? Those boys died because…"
"NO!" the pure agony in those blue eyes stopped Thomas more surely than the word ever could. "Were going…going to …kill us… anyway…"his breath whistled sharply in and out "thought… if…I had… something…on his…letter head… when…we were…found…"his face paled and his lips trembled with the memory… Keep him quiet… no stress…
"Ok Neal, shhh…you can tell us later, you need to-."
"You took it after…"disbelief stole the color from Reynolds' face as he interrupted. "After they beat you…?" the dark head bobbed slightly. It was quiet for a long moment… The horror of that image seeping into Reynolds mind…a teenager, badly injured, three broken ribs… painfully aware that he was going to die…that his friends were going to die… hoping that when his body… his body was found, the stolen papers in his pocket would guide the investigators to his killers… the absolute despair that drove that action…
"You wanted justice…" he stared at the top of the young man's head "why didn't you report it…? I get that you were scared at first but… anonymous tip…something?" Humiliation tinted the glowing eyes…but he didn't answer.
"Thomas…" Peter's voice became a bit sharp before dropping to a near whisper "don't pressure him…" Reynolds looked at Neal, and drew in a harsh breath, nodding in understanding. The pained silence broken only by Neal's shallow raspy breathing
"Need to …contact… Moz…" Neal directed finally, his eyes turning to Peter.
"I'm sorry, I can't" he sighed "he disappeared the day after I found the locker… he left the lady… I assumed he went looking for you…"
"Got… a …way…" his eyes were bright despite his obvious exhaustion "for… em…er…gen…cies…" he gasped for a moment
"Through your nose Neal" he dropped his head back against the pillow… breathing raggedly through the device on his nose… "That's it…Let it help you"
"En…crypt…ed …email…" he looked at his friend knowingly
"No pigeons?" he grinned, teasing he was rewarded with a responding smile
"Pigeons…only… work… if he's… in the …right…place"
"Of course"
"Worked…it out… after…Liz...beth…" he swallowed hard at the memory "always … have a … way to… con…tact… in…case" Peter nodded "send… burner… number… he'll call…"
"Tell him…you… need 127… brown… envelope…" Neal's left hand opened… "Phone…" he wearily typed the address into the phone… before his eyes closed… apparently asleep already.
)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(
Neal didn't listen to their nervously whispered conversation. He lay still, willing his body to give in to sleep…pleading for oblivion to shut out his swirling thoughts…but for the first time since he found himself here, he couldn't drift off…because cold despair seeped into his aching bones… he told Peter to contact Mozzie… as naturally as breathing, but as soon as the words left his mouth, a sickening realization hit him like a physical blow… he couldn't picture his friend… he could hear Mozzie's voice… remember the way he moved… playing find the lady in the park… but he could not see the little man's face… at all.
He heard Reynolds leaving… felt Peter lay his hand gently on his head for a moment… he felt the worry that radiated though that soft touch. He considered opening his eyes, telling him not worry... and maybe asking Peter if he had a picture of Mozzie… but that was ridiculous… Moz was one of his best friends, he didn't need a picture… Besides Peter was gone now… following Agent Reynolds out, with one last strangled "D***it Neal… why don't you ever talk to me…?" and a gentle pat on his shoulder.
It wasn't the first time since he woke up, a memory he knew he should have recalled easily… simply wasn't there… the idea tormented him… but he had been able, up to this point, to dismiss it as a side effect of to many powerful drugs in his system. He promised himself his faded memories would return when his mind was clear again, but what if they didn't… Some things were easily recovered… Mozzie's face… could be replaced in his mind the moment he saw the man… but how many things were gone that he could not get back… he clenched his eyes tighter trying to force himself to remember… if he could pull up one lost thing it meant the rest were still there… somewhere… right? He saw the shape of the little guy… silhouetted against his mind… but the details were just gone… his face blank… the harder he tried to grasp the raveled threads of the image… the more it faded like wisps of fog before a winter breeze…
He was cold… an agonizing chill that started in his stomach and wrapped insidiously around his heart… spreading hungrily through his limbs… paralyzing him... choking him. He couldn't get air passed the frozen lump in his throat… he gasped… desperately. "Breathe through your nose…" Dr. Cole's calm voice floated through his panicked mind… he did… letting the respirator take the brunt of the effort from his faltering lungs… "Memory loss is common in a case like yours…" Dr. Cole had mentioned in passing a few days ago…as if she knew… as if she was giving him the option to come clean… to admit…but… he wouldn't… couldn't … not yet.