Shadowed
I've spent my life in a shadow, there isn't a time in all of my sixteen years that I remember being out of it.
When my dad congratulates me, he says. "That's my boy!" I hear the loving pride in his voice; I know I mean the world to him. But for once, I'd like to hear my name and see the joy go all the way to his eyes with no shadow of sorrow.
If I'm in trouble, I know the lecture is coming when my dad says, "Neal," it's one of the rare times he actually uses my name, and since he lectured my predecessor, he's well-practiced at letting me know exactly what I did wrong, why it's wrong, what I should've done, and how I should act in the future.
Although I love hearing stories of Neal Caffrey, they aren't my favorite. Sure, Dad lights up when he tells them, but afterward, there is a melancholic air for a few days.
The times that a story does come up, I try to learn a skill mentioned in it. Then I can make my dad proud when I've mastered it. It keeps him talking, and it gives me a way to distract him.
My mom doesn't struggle as much. But I still notice things.
She always flinches when Dad says "Neal." I think it reminds her of all of those lectures that Caffrey got.
There is also that pinched look her forehead does whenever I learn a skill related to Caffrey.
I'm just sixteen; it's not like I've decided what I want to do with my future, but my mom sees any new skill as something that's drawing me closer to either being a con man or an agent. She worries about me too much.
They lost Caffrey, and they can't imagine losing me too.
That's not to say that Caffrey is my brother. He was more like their little brother, but maybe a bit of a practice son since I get compared to him so often.
If he'd lived, he'd be my uncle.
It's something that's crossed my mind many times when I've gotten frustrated by being cast in the shadow of a man that I never knew, someone who died six months before I was born.
What if he hadn't died? What would it be like to hear his take on his 'alleged' crimes or the cases which he worked with my dad and his team?
I've met Jones and Diana, Mozzie, and even June. It's not like I haven't heard their perspectives, but there seems to be something missing from the stories.
Mozzie says it's the Caffrey element. No one can replace him and no words can capture his essence. A picture can show me his megawatt smile, but it can't conform to the situation the way the real one did.
His looks were a tool and Caffrey was a master at manipulating them to sway his mark any way he wanted.
I tried mimicking that once.
When I wanted something from my mom, I practiced my best smile in the mirror and asked her with my sweetest voice, and I regretted every bit of it when she burst into tears.
She knew exactly what I was trying, just an example of how little I can actually get away with, and she didn't appreciate it.
Between mimicking Caffrey and trying to manipulate my mother, I got it good from both of my parents! I'm not sure which was worse though, their anger, their disappointment, or their sadness, but I've never wanted to try that again!
Because my dad is an FBI agent and I'm an only child, I'm very close to my parents and they've invested a lot of time into teaching me. I knew how to observe my surroundings for danger, I had learned the code language of safe words, and I knew how to contact emergency services for help by the time I was five years old. By ten, I could tell you a great deal about art and could create a decent piece of my own. Then, despite my parents' misgivings, I'd also learned the foundational art of a con by fifteen.
I think my family sees me as a mini Caffrey, a what-if scenario for what might have been had life gone differently for him.
This is both good and bad.
For instance, when I recently asked to go abroad with a school program for a few weeks in Paris, I had my parents' fear of something happening to me to contend with. However, using the argument that I'd been taught how to take care of myself if I encountered danger was helpful.
If, and really a big if, as in the worst case scenario, I encountered something, wouldn't my ability to see danger and outsmart a threat or escape mean that I'd be okay away from them for two weeks?
It had been a difficult win, but I'd ultimately convinced them to let me go.
Now, I regret that.
Because, against the odds, I'd been kidnapped by one of my dad's enemies and I was being held for some kind of ransom. They wanted something or another and they'd only let me go if my dad complied.
Even I know that the FBI doesn't have jurisdiction in France. Not that they made deals with kidnappers anyway. So, I wondered what the intent of this group was.
They had grabbed me when I'd gone to the restroom at a museum the group was touring so I'd been separated from the others. That left me as a weakened target. Then they'd been waiting when I'd come out, caught me between two men, and injected a needle into my neck. What happened after that was blurry until I'd woken up bound to this chair.
I'd had a guard watching me so they'd quickly confirmed that they had me and what they wanted from my dad. Then they left, but the guard was still outside. I could see his shadow moving through the crack under the door.
Using my time, it took some work, but I managed to find a sharp point where a nail stuck out of the chair. It cut me which stung, but that didn't matter since I could use it to wear away at the zip ties binding my wrist. My feet weren't bound so there was only one tie to deal with.
Working on that, I learned that the guard would occasionally open the door and visibly check on me.
When the handle shifted I'd freeze until he'd checked, and then I'd go back to scraping the plastic until the next round. Counting in my head proved that I'd have about fifteen minutes to check my space once I'd freed myself.
Eventually, the tie snapped and my wrists were free. I got up and took a glance around. It seemed to be a basement with storage, but beyond that, I couldn't tell where I was. To be safe, I put the ties in my pocket, and resumed my position.
While I waited, I decided that my next chance would be spent checking the window. It was small and high up, but I could probably escape out of it if it could be opened and there was somewhere to escape to.
After the next check, I'd gotten up and climbed an old crate up to peek out the window.
The view was limited, but I seemed to be looking out at a random alley with junk covering part of the window. It was either morning or evening, but there didn't seem to be anyone around to catch me.
My next challenge was getting the window open without alerting my guard.
Checking, I found some oil on a shelf against a wall.
Using the oil, I put it on the hinges and resumed my seat for another check.
This time, my guard took a longer glance in and around the room. Then he yawned and grumbled something before closing the door. There was a scrape and four smaller shadows of chair legs showed under the door.
I assumed it was going on night and he was planning on sleeping on watch. It was not something his people would appreciate, but it was great news for me.
Giving him a little time to drift off, I checked the space over for any useful tools. A flashlight could help me see, there was a blanket in the corner for covering things, and a few other makeshift items were collected and bundled together.
When I was ready, I made the climb again and began to slowly push the window open so that it wasn't too noisy. After it was open enough to get my hand through, I began shifting the junk so that it wouldn't fall over and give my efforts away.
The air coming in was a welcome relief as it smelled of food like I was in the city near busy streets of businesses and shoppers.
Once I could climb out, I pushed my bundle ahead of me and pushed my feet off of the wall while using my arms to pull myself through the gap.
Outside, I pushed the window closed, replaced the junk, and retrieved my bundle. Taking a look both ways, I opted to go the shortest route to the street and pedestrians to hide in the crowds.
Choosing a random direction, I had no idea where I was or how far I'd need to go before finding help.
Walking along the street, I was busy taking everything in when I passed a man. I'd noticed him. He was wearing a nice outfit showing expensive taste and he had a hat cooked at a jaunty angle shadowing his face. His hair was flecked with gray but was mostly dark. There was something familiar about him and I feared he was connected with my abductors.
Taking off at a run, I hoped to lose him in the crowd, and after a few moments, I looked back to see that he was no longer following me.
That's when I ran into him.
He clearly knew the environment and had found a way to get ahead of me based on my trajectory.
It had been stupid of me to keep going the same way, but I was going for distance first.
"Whoa, there kid! I'm not going to hurt you, but you remind me of someone and you look like you're in trouble. If you want sanctuary, there is a place I can take you." The man caught my arm as I tried to run again. But then he'd let go and held up his hands.
Stopping to look at him, to really look at him, I realized where I recognized him from. He looked like Caffrey, just an older version! "Caffrey?" I said the name before I could think about it, I was too surprised!
"Come on little Burke, we need to get you to safety, and then we'll talk." He put a hand on my shoulder and guided me to a cab.
What followed was an elaborate game of losing the tail just in case my escape had been noticed before we stopped at a flat.
Hauling me upstairs, Caffrey made me sit on his couch before he took a seat opposite of me. "Talk" he directed, which reminded me of my dad in his professional interrogator mode.
Explaining my situation, I filled him in on everything that I knew.
Listening carefully, he took note of every detail and asked pointed questions when needed.
When I'd finished, he showed me to his personal bedroom and pulled out some pajamas. "You can crash here for tonight. Why don't you clean up and change? I'll get some food for you."
While he was gone, I took a shower and changed into more comfortable clothes for sleeping. By then, he'd returned with some food and set up a couple of plates on the table.
After eating, he directed me back to his room for the night.
"I'm going to get a few things for you to let your dad know you're okay and do some checking around. We'll see what needs to be done to handle this."
Going to sleep, I knew the situation would be okay. My dad and Caffrey would make sure of it.
Waking up in the morning, it took me a moment to remember where I was and to convince myself that it hadn't been a dream. Caffrey really was alive and protecting me!
In the main area, I found him stretched out on the couch napping. He looked tired, like he'd worked all night.
Keeping quiet, I went to the kitchen and started checking for food.
Despite trying to be quiet, my efforts woke him up and soon Caffrey was cooking breakfast and making me eat it all.
"Peter and El would kill me if I didn't take care of you," was all he'd say to me until I'd finished.
After breakfast, he gave me a burner phone. "I know you have codes and Peter probably taught you how to handle situations like this. Let them know you're safe." Then he left me while he went for a shower.
Texting my dad's number, I encoded my message to show that it was me and that I was safe. Then I waited.
His response was quick so I knew they were waiting for anything about me. He was overjoyed to know I was okay, but the message could only show a sample of that through the language we were using.
I didn't have much for him about who'd taken me or where they were, but I said that I was being protected and my contact would probably have more after they showered.
This caused worry and fear in his response, but I told him that Jimmy didn't mean any harm.
I'd heard of Jimmy Burger.
Then he was confused, but I promised to explain more later if he promised that he and Mom would personally come to Paris to get me.
They'd need to see Caffrey for themselves.
He promised me anything as long as I got home safely so I knew it was a done deal, just a matter of time.
When Caffrey returned, he started corresponding with my father sharing what he'd learned through another burner phone, but he didn't update me.
I was instructed to remain at his place while he handled everything to get my kidnappers arrested and resolve the case so that I could go home safely.
That led to boredom until he showed me his art supplies and gave me free rein to do with them as I pleased.
Thinking about it, I decided to attempt an image of my family, the one he'd left behind, with him and I included—a keepsake he could have to remember us by.
Catching him watching me one evening, I asked why he'd left.
After some persuasion, he'd told me that the Pink Panthers would've wreaked vengeance on my family killing them because he crossed the gang. So, he left to protect those he loved even though it meant sacrificing them too.
Sad, I realized that my family was right, he was a one-of-a-kind man and more than I'd expected even after hearing their stories.
Once the case was done, I messaged my dad with our location using what I'd picked up off of a piece of Caffrey's mail. Then I waited.
It was the next morning when I heard the doorbell ring.
Caffrey was still asleep so I let my parents in only to be passed back and forth between them in the entryway as they were each eager to hug me and look me over to reassure themselves that I was fine.
The noise woke Caffrey up so he came out in a robe and pajamas. "Little Burke, just like your father." He hadn't asked me my name; he just kept calling me Little Burke.
Gasping, my parents were shocked, as I expected, and although they literally drug me with them, their attention shifted to include Caffrey.
Standing with my parents, I finally got to be witness to someone else getting a "Neal" lecture!
Grinning, Caffrey took it in stride, and somewhere in the midst he managed to explain about the Panthers but he added in that the FBI never would've let him go, they'd have simply pulled a Kramer and gone after him for another crime even if they had to reach for it.
My dad ultimately agreed, but he still wished that Caffrey had reached out to him and let him know he was okay. Then he cited the effects on Mozzie, June, and the others who also loved him which made Caffrey wistful, but he didn't back down.
Finally, my parents were settling in to eat breakfast while catching up with Caffrey as they ate.
"Little Burke, huh? Have you even asked what his name is?" Dad questioned Caffrey after a while.
Cocking his head, Caffrey looked at me, but I just smirked. Let my dad tell him.
"Neal," Dad said.
"What?" Caffrey looked at him making my dad smile.
"His name is Neal, after you." My dad watched Caffrey closely as the man looked between us.
"Me?!"
"Yes, I named him for my best friend." My dad smiled softly, finally getting to tell his best friend, something he'd lamented missing out on.
Blinking, Caffrey's eyes misted despite his smile so my dad couldn't resist getting up and wrapping him in a hug.
As I watched them relish the moment, I couldn't help but be glad everything had happened. I'd found my dad's best friend, the uncle I'd missed out on.
Now as I stood with my mom's arm across my shoulder as she wiped away her own tears, I knew that this was the future that I could look forward to.
It was like I'd stepped from his shadow into the light of his megawatt smile.
Neal Caffrey wasn't a dead man I reminded my parents of. He was alive, and now those reminders would bring smiles of joy and shared stories with the man I was named for.
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