Chapter Text
Setting the nearly untouched glass of wine down, Neal leaned over the schematics Mozzie brought over, trying his hardest to ignore the building headache between his eyes. At first glance, Peter and Elizabeth’s vacation – and Peter asking him to dog sit Satchmo - was a blessing in disguise. The paperwork that he needed to help his father find Ellen’s box was practically thrown into his hands.
It was everything else that was the problem.
Neal hadn’t been at the top of his game lately. And with Elizabeth asking him to lie to Peter and his agreeing to do so, things had been more stressful than Neal was used to or comfortable with. There had been an increased strain between the two since even before Peter was released from the hospital. Now that he was closer to the storage box and not even able to let Peter in on it, the victory almost felt hollow.
Sleep had eluded him the last few days as well, his focus slipping from everything he had going on. Even going into work felt more like a chore than usual. He’d had to called out that morning, knowing he wasn’t going to be of any help. It wasn’t going to earn him any favors, especially from Peter, but he would rather sit in his apartment and stew over the weekend, returning fresh on Monday. As fresh as he could, all things considered anyway.
Neal sighed, rolling up the blueprints for now. He was glad that Mozzie hadn’t decided to make himself at home that afternoon, the headache he felt coming on fully formed now. His oldest friend had begun to pick up on Neal’s shift in mood, and as much as he appreciated the concern under normal circumstances, tonight was not an ideal evening for listening to pontificating the merits of birds over drones as government surveillance.
Scattered on the table was a week’s worth of mail that Neal hadn’t had the time or energy to go through. Deciding there was no time like the present to get rid of the junk, he picked up the envelopes, discarding anything he deemed unworthy in the trash, and keeping what he would be opening in his hand. An old newspaper, probably picked up and left by Peter, caught his attention.
“Bank Executive Dies in Robbery” was on the front page, including an extremely familiar face.
All the other pieces of mail fell from his hands as he slowly lowered himself onto the chair he had been leaning against. With shaking hands, Neal carefully picked up the newspaper, staring at the face of his – apparently dead – brother.
He thought very briefly that he ought to reach out to someone instead of doing this alone. Call Mozzie and have him come over. Call Peter and explain things. Hell, have Diana come over and snark at him. Instead, he sat a read the same words, over and over. The longer he read, the more he wanted to remain in this room alone with his thoughts and emotions.
It was all too much too fast: Ellen’s murder, his father’s reappearance and disappearance, Sara possibly leaving, Pratt’s attempt at taking out Peter…
Finding out his brother was dead.
Neal stood quickly, knocking his chair over. He didn’t even bother reaching for the newspaper as it fell back onto the table. Instead, his shaking hand went straight for the bottle of wine that was sitting beside the full glass he’d been ignoring all afternoon. He opened the patio doors and sat at the table facing the city.
He was getting drunk. Headache be damned.
Putting on his suit jacket, Peter stopped to look at himself in the mirror. He was mostly healed from the car accident, with only a few minor aches and pains depending on which way he turned his body. The bruising was gone, and he’d only been left with minor scars which were, thankfully, hidden beneath his clothes. If one didn’t know what happened, they wouldn’t even know that he’d been hospitalized.
Elizabeth wrapped her arms around him from behind with a sign. “Are you completely sure that you’re up to getting back to the office?”
Smiling at his wife’s concern, Peter turned in her arms to face her, pressing a kiss on her forehead. “I’m sure, hon. Someone’s got to catch the bad guys. Besides,” he said once he pulled away. “I’ve not heard from Neal in a few days, and that is never a good thing.”
Peter had entrusted Jones and Diana with being Neal’s secondary handlers while he was out of commission. Diana had let him know about Neal calling out on Friday, citing illness. He would have gone to June’s to check in but decided to leave Neal alone until they got to work. He would interrogate him then.
Elizabeth frowned, looking away, but leaned in when he bent down to kiss her lips.
On the bedside table, Peter’s phone rang. He saw the name on the screen – Jones – causing his eyebrows to furrow. The day hadn’t started yet, so why was he calling?
“Jones?” Peter answered.
“Hey Peter, I know you haven’t technically clocked in yet, but this wasn’t something that could wait.” There was a lot of commotion in the background and the sound of voices off to the side.
“Are those sirens going off?” Elizabeth sat on the edge of the mattress, giving him a concerned look.
“Jones, what’s going on over there?”
Jones sighed into the phone. “Long story short, I tried calling Caffrey a few times before I got to June’s to pick up pick him up. When I got here, one of the maids came running up to me. She had already called the ambulance by the time I got here. Said she’d found him on the patio, and he wasn’t responsive. I went upstairs to check on him, and he looked pretty rough. They’re taking him to the emergency room.”
“Emergency room?”
“They’re concerned he might have a concussion, not to mention the bruising on his face.”
Peter was making his way downstairs, Elizabeth following, as he collected what he needed to head out. He grabbed his car keys from the hook, a determined look on his face. “Ok Jones. Keep an eye on him in the ER until I get there.”
“You might want to stop by his apartment first.”
“Does it look like he was attacked?”
“It’s hard to say. The place isn’t up to Caffrey’s normal standard. I think it’s something you’d want to check out.”
Peter found himself nodding, still trying to process most of the conversation. “Ok. I’ll head over there first. Just…”
“Don’t worry Peter. I’ll be here until you get here.”
“Thanks Jones.” The phone in his hand beeped indicating the call had ended. Peter stood at the door, the last few minutes on repeat in his mind.
“Who’s in the ER?” Elizabeth asked, having only gotten Peter’s end of the call.
Running a hand down his face, Peter answered, “Neal. Apparently one of June’s maids found him unconscious on the patio right before Jones got there.” Elizabeth gasped. “I need to head over to June’s and take a look. I have to make sure it isn’t a crime scene.”
“Are you going to see him?”
“Yeah, as soon as I’m done checking out his apartment.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“Hon,” Peter said as Elizabeth made her way back upstairs. “It could be a crime scene.”
“Or he could have actually been sick and by himself all weekend,” she called from their bathroom. Elizabeth came back down, her purse in hand. “I’ll stay in the car while you go through the apartment, but I want to be there when you get to the hospital.” There was something in her voice that made Peter want to question her, but her determined look stopped him from doing so. Right now, his attention needed to be on whatever situation Neal found himself in. And besides, he would never hear the end of it if he delayed seeing a sick friend because he was “playing FBI agent” as she called it.
The drive out of Brooklyn into Manhattan was quiet. Elizabeth kept her attention on their surroundings. Peter was clearly fluctuating between worried for Neal and worried about Neal in a pattern that she had grown used to in the years the CI had been under his watch.
Her own concern for Neal was real. After all, hearing that someone she considered a friend was being rushed into the emergency room was always a concern.
However, Peter had just finished recovering from his accident that was caused, in part, by Neal’s father, and unfortunately by Neal as an extension. And she couldn’t forget that fear either. Neal may have been a friend, but Peter was her whole world. Whatever had befallen Neal would no doubt pull Peter back into all of that, when she had just gotten Neal to agree to keep him out.
So she sat in the passenger seat of Peter’s Taurus, going between worry and guilt.
She hated the look on Peter’s face when he’d realized that Neal lied to him. And she hated that she was part of the reason that look had never really left.
They pulled up to June’s house, the commotion she’d heard through Peter’s phone long gone. Peter parked the car across the street and started to make his way out.
“I’ll be back soon, hon,” he said. His eyes were surveying the area, in full Special Agent mode. She nodded.
“I’ll be here. Make sure everything is ok.”
He grabbed her hand through the open window and placed a kiss on it before making his way inside. As soon as the door had closed, she rolled up the window and locked the door. Pulling out her phone, she began scrolling her contacts.
The number Mozzie had given to her came up and she hit dial. She let it ring, knowing he wouldn’t pick up. He always screened his calls from her number, “in case the Suit decides to try to influence you against me by luring me in with a false sense of security.”
“Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system. At the tone, please record your message.”
“Hi Mozzie, it’s Elizabeth. Listen, Peter and I are going to be making our way to Lenox Hill. Something happened to Neal, and he was taken there not too long ago. I know how you feel about hospitals, but I thought you would like to know. I promise I will keep you updated.”
Hanging up, she sat and waited for Peter to come back. She knew Mozzie would appreciate the call, but that it would also cause him to worry more. He had been by a few days ago under the guise of checking in on Peter. What he really was doing was expressing his own concern for Neal.
According to Mozzie, Neal had been more withdrawn since his father went back into hiding, and he was worried about his friend. He’d hoped that Elizabeth could speak with Peter and get him to talk to Neal. At the time they’d had the conversation, she had wanted Peter nowhere near Neal unless it was strictly work related. Now, she wondered if she had been too hasty in disregarding Mozzie’s concerns.
Almost 20 minutes passed before Peter was leaving June’s house on the phone. He’d hung up before he got back into the car and sat there for a moment.
“Was it a crime scene?” she asked.
Peter shook his head. “Jones wasn’t kidding when he said it was hard to tell. The place was a mess. But I didn’t see anything that looked like a forced entry. I’m just going to have to talk to him when I see him.”
Peter knocked on the door to June’s mansion and was let in by Lucy. He’d initially learned the names of the household staff because he’d needed to keep tabs on everyone who made contact with Neal while he was living here, but over the years, he’d gotten to know them as well. Lucy tended to work the earlier hours on weekdays so she could spend her off hours helping her daughter and grandchildren.
“Hello Agent Burke,” Lucy said. Her face a paler than normal, but considering the morning she’d just had, it was to be expected.
“Hi Lucy. Thank you for calling for help.” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “How are you holding up?”
“Worried, but your agent was with Mr. Caffrey this morning, thankfully.”
“Yes,” Peter agreed. “I’m going to check upstairs for a moment. Are you ok? Do you need anything?” The least he could do after the fright she’d had was ensure that she was doing alright.
“No, no. Thank you Agent Burke.” Lucy shook her head. “Could you let me know how he is?”
“I promise,” Peter smiled. Leaving Lucy at the stairs, he made his way to the loft upstairs. The door was left unlocked by Jones, so Peter just let himself in. “Not up to Caffrey’s standard” was putting it mildly. The entire place was a mess. Nothing was where it should have been. The dining chairs were scattered around the room and knocked over. There were papers everywhere. Way too many empty wine bottles – some lying broken on the floor – littered both inside the loft and out on the patio.
What the hell had Neal gotten himself into over the weekend?
The only solace Peter found was that the damage seemed to be caused by Neal and not foul play.
Righting the chair, he also picked up the discarded mail. Dropping the mail onto the table, seeing Neal’s face looking up at him from a newspaper caught his attention. He quickly went through the article until he came across what he was looking for.
He pulled out his phone, he took a photo of the headline and image, before dialing Diana’s number as he put the paper down and made his way to the car.
“Hey Boss,” she answered after a few rings. “I heard about Caffrey. How is he?”
“I’m about to check on him. I had to stop at his place first. I need you to check on something I found here.”
“Of course.”
“Get in touch with your contacts in DC. I want you to find whatever you can on a ‘Bryce Larkin’.”
“You got it. Just out of curiosity, is that someone of interest?”
“No idea yet. I guess we’ll find out who he is, and what he has to do with Neal. Bring whatever you find to the hospital.”
“Got it. See you in a bit.”
She ended the call just as Peter got to his car. Elizabeth unlocked the doors for him, and he sat for a minute. He really hoped that he hadn’t just found an alias Neal had kept from him. First the lying and now this? Was this related to his lie? Was his father involved?
“Was it a crime scene?” Elizabeth asked, shaking him from his thoughts.
Peter shook his head. Was it? The mess was not like Neal. Maybe he’d had a run in with his father. Could James have convinced him to flee with him?
“Jones wasn’t kidding when he said it was hard to tell. The place was a mess. But I didn’t see anything that looked like a forced entry. I’m just going to have to talk to him when I see him.”
As he pulled onto the road and drove towards the hospital, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something big.
After getting directions at the check-in desk, the Burkes managed to find Jones looking at his phone in the waiting area. He waved them over.
“Any news?” Peter asked. Jones led them to a room a bit off to the left.
“The good news is he started coming to right before he arrived. They drew some blood and are just waiting on the results. He’s in here resting. Whatever he had going on apparently really took a lot out of him. I checked the anklet data and he hadn’t left June’s all weekend.”
Entering the room, Peter and Elizabeth paused at the sight of Neal on the hospital bed. He was asleep again (hopefully he was just sleeping). An IV was attached to his arm.
The shocking part of his appearance was not just the mess of bruising on the right side of his face but how pale and worn he looked, even while resting.
“What the hell happened to him?” Peter asked.
Jones shrugged. “Still haven’t been able to get an answer yet. The doctor was in here a couple of minutes ago but wouldn’t talk to me since I’m not family or his medical proxy.”
Peter sighed. “He looks like he got jumped.”
“He was on the floor when I got there. It looked like he must have hit his head when he went down.”
“That would explain the bruises.”
A nurse came into the room to check on Neal. Peter introduced himself, letting her know that he was Neal’s medical proxy. After chatting with the nurse, and her promising to send the doctor in to speak with him, she began to rounds.
Jones took that opportunity to let them know that he was heading back to the office.
“Thanks for taking care of things Jones,” Peter said.
“Of course. Let me know if anything changes.”
The Burkes made themselves as comfortable as they could waiting for the doctor.
“I’ve never seen him look so unkempt,” Elizabeth says. “Maybe he really was sick.”
Peter didn’t say anything. The mess in Neal’s loft indicated something more than illness, but he couldn’t help but agree that maybe before all of…whatever it was that led to this, Neal really had been under the weather. Even when he was plotting his biggest cons, he kept a strong game face on to not bring more attention to himself than was necessary.
After about 10 minutes of waiting, there is a tap on the window outside Neal’s room. Peter and Elizabeth both turn to see Diana waving.
“Does this have to do with what you found at Neal’s?” Elizabeth asks, waving to Diana before turning to Peter.
“Yeah, it does. I’m gonna step outside to talk to her before the doctor arrives.” He glances at Neal briefly before joining Diana in the hallway. She greets him, handing over a folder.
“My contacts were pretty quick with the information,” she says as Peter begins going through the few pages in the file. “The only problem is most of the information on this file is redacted. Except for this part.” She points to where the information on this page is not completely blacked out.
Larkin, Bryce
DOB:03/21/1977
Status: Deceased
“What is all this?” Peter murmurs.
Diana sighs, “That’s not even the most interesting part. Go to the last page.”
Doing as she said, Peter flips to the end of the papers. A picture of a serious-looking Neal is staring back at them with a CIA seal stamped on the page. There are a few credentials that are visible. He pulls out his phone, pulling up the picture of the newspaper article he saw. He turns his phone to Diana, showing her the same image.
“Tell me this isn’t a coincidence,” he said gruffly, his anger and annoyance at Neal building. He was using the same alias to fake being a bank employee as well as impersonating a federal agent. And all the while, he was doing it right under Peter’s nose. After everything they had managed to work through these last couple of years, not to mention his most recent involvement of hiding things and lying to him.
Diana’s expression mirrored his own. “It doesn’t look like one to me.”
“Damnit.”
The door opens and Elizabeth steps out. Peter snaps the folder shut. “Hi Diana. Hon, Neal is awake. He was asking for you.”
“What’s the plan?” Diana asks.
“Hon, would you mind staying out here for a few minutes? I have to talk to Neal about a few things.”
“Sure.”
Peter nods, looking to Diana. “Stay out here too. Keep an eye on him. I’m going to need another pair of eyes to gage his reaction when I confront him with this.”
Peter took in a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the lies he was almost guaranteed he was going to hear. He opened the door and had to pause as he took in Neal. The other man sat there, gently pressing a hand to his eye. He still looked incredibly ill sitting there, the bruising on his face pronounced.
“Good morning,” Peter says, moving towards the bed. Neal glances up, nods, then focuses his eyes back to the bed. Peter frowns. “I heard you were out on Friday. And clearly this,” he motions to his face, “doesn’t seem to help matters.”
Lower his hand, Neal sighs. “It wasn’t the best way to end my week, I must admit.”
“Neal, what happened?”
Closing his eyes, Neal leans back into the pillows, crossing his arms. “I wasn’t feeling well on Friday, so I called Diana to let her know. Saturday night I got some…not great news.” He shrugged, motioning to his face. “I didn’t handle it well.”
That was the opening Peter was hoping for.
“That bad news wouldn’t have anything to do with Bryce Larkin, would it?” he asked, keeping an eye out for Neal’s reaction. The man’s face pales, the heart monitor connected to him jumping. He looks up at Peter, an odd expression on his face. They stare at each other for a few seconds, Peter taking Neal’s reaction as one of guilt. Without hesitating, he passes the folder to Neal.
“I managed to come across another one of your aliases this morning after speaking to Jones,” Peter said, his tone sharp. Neal takes the folder with trembling hands, shaking his head. He appears to be attempting to say something, but no words are coming out, so Peter just continues. “Neal! Impersonating a federal officer! I don’t know even know how you managed to burn a CIA agent. How long did you think you could get away with this?” he all but yelled at the man.
“…not an alias. He’s not…”
“If I hear even a whisper of this supposed ‘Agent Larkin’ before I can investigate this, your ass is back in prison for life,” Peter hisses in anger. Neal wasn’t looking at Peter at all, too focused on the image attached to the folder in his hand. Peter says nothing else. Neal obviously isn’t listening anymore.
He makes his way out of the room, waiting for the door to be completely closed before he closes his eyes, trying to calm his racing heart. After a second, he turns to Diana, who along with Elizabeth, is still watching Neal from the window.
“What do you think?” he asks.
Diana turns away from the window and hesitates for a moment. “I don’t know, boss. It doesn't look like he’s upset about burning an alias. He just looks upset.”
“Hon,” Elizabeth says, placing a hand on his arm. “Something about that file is upsetting him. He’ s crying.”
At this, both Peter and Diana look through the window again, watching Neal stare at the folder in his lap. And just as Elizabeth stated, tears were falling down his cheeks.