Rambling Man Pt. 2 (g)kriadydragonDecember 9 2011, 22:35:46 UTC
"Yeah, you're right. It's not as funny as how I got those Russian Nesting Dolls out of the museum. They were huge but turns out all you need is a donkey and a couple of mail bags..."
"Damn it, Neal... donkey, really? We thought you'd come in as part of the crew meant to do security upgrades."
"That's how we got in. Getting in isn't interesting Peter, it's getting out that's interesting. Oh! Like with that Matisse..."
"Neal, focus!" Peter barks. Neal flinches, frowning.
"You're being mean, Peter."
"Yeah, well, for good reason. You were just about to sentence yourself to life in prison."
It takes a moment for Neal's brain to process this, and when it finally does, his features soften. "You're a good guy, Peter."
"Yeah, well..." Peter grumbles. He often wonders what being around Neal is doing to him, because anyone else would have jumped on Neal's innocent honesty like a starving man on a steak. They wouldn't have cared about pesky things like morality and being the better man by not taking advantage of a weaker man, even if it was only a temporary weakness.
But it doesn't just feel wrong, it feels... it feels like cheating. As much as you want the easy answers you can't trust the easy answers. It's like those "shortcuts" his dad used to take whenever they went on trips, so easy and time-saving on the map, a pointless, migraine breeding ordeal in real life.
Emphasis on the pointless, Peter comes to realize. Because what Neal has done, past tense, is just that - past tense, in the past. It's not taking advantage of a drugged man that bothers Peter, it's opening up cans of worms that could make all of their lives miserable when he doesn't need to, because Neal is right here, right now, serving his sentence and doing what he does best, not for himself but for the FBI. He is drugged and he is tracker free, and he still found his way to Peter. His addled brain could have told him to go anywhere, but it told him to go to Peter.
There's no reason to dig anymore, not into what happened years ago.
And Peter doesn't want to dig.
"My feet hurt," Neal says, wincing. "I must a walked a lot."
El came down at some point in time, concerned but silent because previous experience has gotten her used to the drill. She gives Peter a sympathetic look then goes to the kitchen to get the things they will need when the drugs start to wear off.
"Do you remember where you walked from?" Peter asks, like two men having a casual conversation. If he is forceful and urgent, Neal will get distracted again.
Neal's limp head rocks back and forth. "Buildings all looked the same. Really tall, kind of brown. Empty. Really empty." He starts humming.
"Neal," Peter says gently.
"Some guy stuck a needle in my arm." He lifts his arm to study it as though everything he's going through right now is the singular fault of that one appendage. "He was a jerk. Talked funny to, like Sylvester."
"Stallone?"
"No, Sylvester. Sylvester. The cat? Like that." He chuckles. "It was funny."
Re: Rambling Man Pt. 3 (g)kriadydragonDecember 9 2011, 22:36:31 UTC
Peter smiles, patting Neal on the arm. There is only one guy with a lisp and the means to kidnap someone with a tracker without getting caught: Eddie Valence, art thief with a side order of smuggling. Neal had figured out that the guy was going after a collection of large sapphires currently on display at a big time jewelers. But the FBI got to the jewels first, and with the cooperation of the jewelers made it look like someone had beat Eddie to the punch. Eddie must have assumed it was Neal. The guy was smart but was said to have a temper that made him stupid, because Neal's tracker should have screamed "can't steal anything."
"You stay here, Neal. I'm going to find the guy who poked you with a needle," Peter says, getting up.
Neal's arm flops as though waving Peter off. "Do that. Guy was a jerk."
Peter leaves Neal to El's tender care. It may be midnight, but Neal out of Eddie's claws means a limited window to act before Eddie panics and goes to ground. Peter slips off Neal's shoes, placing them in a plastic bag to conserve any evidence on them. Then he gets dressed and heads into the office, plastic bag of shoes in hand.
It takes the rest of the night and well into the morning to get what they need. Peter sends Jones for Neal's shirt, because forensic needs a little more to work with. Between the evidence on Neal's clothes (dirt, oils, various stains, etc) they narrow down a location. Neal's description of the building narrows it down even more.
They catch Eddie just as he is coming back to the hideout. He tries to pin the theft on Neal, but Peter telling them about the Fed's own play makes the story fall short. Peter manage to make a deal with one of the thugs who confesses everything; how they took Neal, cuffed him to a chair, drugged him to get him to tell them where he hid the diamonds. They had tried to find Neal, which was why they'd been pulling in when the Feds showed up.
It's late afternoon, Eddie and his men are behind bars, and Peter returns home triumphant. Neal is still sprawled on the couch, an ice-pack on his head and rings under his eyes. El is just now setting a cup of herbal tea within his reach on the coffee table and he thanks her gratefully.
When Neal looks at Peter, he's pained and wary going on full-blown nervous, and the smile he offers is brittle as cracked glass.
"Judging by the smile on your face," he says, "All's well that end's well, I take it."
"We got the jerk who stuck you with a needle and sounded like Sylvester the cat."
Neal's forehead scrunches. "Is that what I said?"
"More or less. Very helpful, those drugged rambling of yours."
"What else did I say?" Neal says, trying to be neutral, but because he's drugged, and achy, and probably tired, a little fear manages to slip through.
Peter shrugs. "To be honest," he says. "Nothing that really matters."
Re: Rambling Man Pt. 3 (g)sholioDecember 10 2011, 00:45:28 UTC
This is really cute and sweet! :) I thought it was neat that Peter cut off Neal before his drugged rambling could get him into legal trouble. Drugged Neal is always adorable, and I am very amused that the Burkes seem to share this view. *g*
Re: Rambling Man Pt. 3 (g)imbecamielDecember 11 2011, 05:09:09 UTC
Awww... so cute. I love the trust, and all the different ways Peter takes care of and protects Neal here - physically, making sure he's alright, legally, not allowing him to incriminate himself while he's mentally incompetent, and then, of course, going out and getting the guys who did that to him. :D So sweet, all around.
Re: Rambling Man Pt. 3 (g)noiproksaDecember 11 2011, 15:37:33 UTC
How cute! I love drugged!Neal. The very first sentence already paints such a cute picture. Made me go all "awwww!" that Neal, although the world doesn't really make that much sense to him at the moment (or maybe because of that), goes to Peter. And I love Neal's drugged ramblings and how Peter stops him because he doesn't want to have to send him back to prison - Neal's right: Peter is such a good guy ;)
Re: Rambling Man Pt. 3 (g)ext_840786March 31 2012, 17:44:26 UTC
aww, funny and sweet and so totally Peter and Neal. I love how they catch him because he was "the jerk who stuck you with a needle and sounded like Sylvester the cat." and of course, Peter not letting Neal tell him anything is so sweet. I totally love the last line.
Re: Rambling Man Pt. 3 (g)kriadydragonAugust 20 2012, 19:31:37 UTC
So, I'm apparently YEARS behind the wc fanfiction game, but I'm doing my best to make up for lost time... If you've seen a recent surge on hits on all your fics, that's me!
this one was absolutely sweet and lovely and generally "ooooooooh!". I really loved that you kept Neal in character when drugged-- ie, not maudlin, like I see so often, but childishly chirpy. It totally makes sense.
"Yeah, you're right. It's not as funny as how I got those Russian Nesting Dolls out of the museum. They were huge but turns out all you need is a donkey and a couple of mail bags..."
"Damn it, Neal... donkey, really? We thought you'd come in as part of the crew meant to do security upgrades."
"That's how we got in. Getting in isn't interesting Peter, it's getting out that's interesting. Oh! Like with that Matisse..."
"Neal, focus!" Peter barks. Neal flinches, frowning.
"You're being mean, Peter."
"Yeah, well, for good reason. You were just about to sentence yourself to life in prison."
It takes a moment for Neal's brain to process this, and when it finally does, his features soften. "You're a good guy, Peter."
"Yeah, well..." Peter grumbles. He often wonders what being around Neal is doing to him, because anyone else would have jumped on Neal's innocent honesty like a starving man on a steak. They wouldn't have cared about pesky things like morality and being the better man by not taking advantage of a weaker man, even if it was only a temporary weakness.
But it doesn't just feel wrong, it feels... it feels like cheating. As much as you want the easy answers you can't trust the easy answers. It's like those "shortcuts" his dad used to take whenever they went on trips, so easy and time-saving on the map, a pointless, migraine breeding ordeal in real life.
Emphasis on the pointless, Peter comes to realize. Because what Neal has done, past tense, is just that - past tense, in the past. It's not taking advantage of a drugged man that bothers Peter, it's opening up cans of worms that could make all of their lives miserable when he doesn't need to, because Neal is right here, right now, serving his sentence and doing what he does best, not for himself but for the FBI. He is drugged and he is tracker free, and he still found his way to Peter. His addled brain could have told him to go anywhere, but it told him to go to Peter.
There's no reason to dig anymore, not into what happened years ago.
And Peter doesn't want to dig.
"My feet hurt," Neal says, wincing. "I must a walked a lot."
El came down at some point in time, concerned but silent because previous experience has gotten her used to the drill. She gives Peter a sympathetic look then goes to the kitchen to get the things they will need when the drugs start to wear off.
"Do you remember where you walked from?" Peter asks, like two men having a casual conversation. If he is forceful and urgent, Neal will get distracted again.
Neal's limp head rocks back and forth. "Buildings all looked the same. Really tall, kind of brown. Empty. Really empty." He starts humming.
"Neal," Peter says gently.
"Some guy stuck a needle in my arm." He lifts his arm to study it as though everything he's going through right now is the singular fault of that one appendage. "He was a jerk. Talked funny to, like Sylvester."
"Stallone?"
"No, Sylvester. Sylvester. The cat? Like that." He chuckles. "It was funny."
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"You stay here, Neal. I'm going to find the guy who poked you with a needle," Peter says, getting up.
Neal's arm flops as though waving Peter off. "Do that. Guy was a jerk."
Peter leaves Neal to El's tender care. It may be midnight, but Neal out of Eddie's claws means a limited window to act before Eddie panics and goes to ground. Peter slips off Neal's shoes, placing them in a plastic bag to conserve any evidence on them. Then he gets dressed and heads into the office, plastic bag of shoes in hand.
It takes the rest of the night and well into the morning to get what they need. Peter sends Jones for Neal's shirt, because forensic needs a little more to work with. Between the evidence on Neal's clothes (dirt, oils, various stains, etc) they narrow down a location. Neal's description of the building narrows it down even more.
They catch Eddie just as he is coming back to the hideout. He tries to pin the theft on Neal, but Peter telling them about the Fed's own play makes the story fall short. Peter manage to make a deal with one of the thugs who confesses everything; how they took Neal, cuffed him to a chair, drugged him to get him to tell them where he hid the diamonds. They had tried to find Neal, which was why they'd been pulling in when the Feds showed up.
It's late afternoon, Eddie and his men are behind bars, and Peter returns home triumphant. Neal is still sprawled on the couch, an ice-pack on his head and rings under his eyes. El is just now setting a cup of herbal tea within his reach on the coffee table and he thanks her gratefully.
When Neal looks at Peter, he's pained and wary going on full-blown nervous, and the smile he offers is brittle as cracked glass.
"Judging by the smile on your face," he says, "All's well that end's well, I take it."
"We got the jerk who stuck you with a needle and sounded like Sylvester the cat."
Neal's forehead scrunches. "Is that what I said?"
"More or less. Very helpful, those drugged rambling of yours."
"What else did I say?" Neal says, trying to be neutral, but because he's drugged, and achy, and probably tired, a little fear manages to slip through.
Peter shrugs. "To be honest," he says. "Nothing that really matters."
The End
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Donna aka dmk0064
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this one was absolutely sweet and lovely and generally "ooooooooh!". I really loved that you kept Neal in character when drugged-- ie, not maudlin, like I see so often, but childishly chirpy. It totally makes sense.
Thanks for sharing!
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