Comment-A-Thon Round 4
Nothing special this time around, folks. Just the usual request and replying.
Authors, make a request using this format:
Prompt/Request:
Characters:
I would Like:
I Don't Want:
Writers, reply with a story.
Rules found here.
Authors, make a request using this format:
Prompt/Request:
Characters:
I would Like:
I Don't Want:
Writers, reply with a story.
Rules found here.
Peter tried to ignore the beeping on his phone. He was in the middle of an internal storm and didn't want to be bothered. It beeped again. Someone was texting him like mad. Someone was a little hyper. He groaned. He only knew one person who could babble in text. It was the person at the center of his storm. He couldn't help it. He sighed and looked at the texts.
Ptr, u gotta see dis
Peter wondered what happened to Neal's impeccable language skills when he got on to texting. It became a combo of text-speak, street slang, and well what Peter could call 'Nealisms'. He had jokingly labeled it Nealspeak.
Ptr
Ptr
U gotta c dis
Ptr
Plz Ptr
Plz
His phone beeped. He was being texted by Sara.
Peter, are you getting texts from Neal? Is he okay? His texting is just well - - odd. He wants me to come and see something. He's like in a daze. Wont tell me where he is.
Peter was getting ready to reply when his phone beeped again.
Ptr
Plz
He was curious what was going on. He still felt Neal was guilty as heck, but he couldn't help wanting to be wrong at the same time. His phone beeped.
Ok Suit, what did you drug him with? He's acting Dazed and Confused. Don't reply. Burning this one. I will contact you.
Ok, he didn't realize Moz was getting apparently weird texts. There were some days Peter wouldnt be surprised if Moz wasn't receiving messages from little men in Outer Space.
He got similar themed messages from El, Diana, Clinton, and Hughes. It appeared Neal was on a mass texting binge. However, no one had been able to find out WHERE Neal was.
He felt himself give up inside. If Neal was doing something illegal, it would be insane to call everyone you know in. He figured at the moment Satchmoe would be texted, if he had a phone. He pulled over.
Where are you? he texted
Hr
Her? Are you drunk?
No.
Are you with a woman?
Uh huh
Peter groaned. This could also mean Neal was finally getting laid, but then why tell everyone to come and see? You especially wouldnt usually call the gal you were trying to get to be your girlfriend.
Kate?
No.
Where are you?
hr
Here. Ok, well I am there. If I want to get to here, how do I do that?
?
Sometimes communicating with Neal could be equally frustrating whether by verbal or text. He gave up. He took out his official cell phone. He called up the marshalls and got the address. He was pleased Neal was in his radius. At least that was one less headache.
Stay. Coming.
:)
Peter smirked. He wondered again if Neal didnt have a slightly emo teen age girl stuck somewhere inside him. It would really explain alot. He set down his phone and drove. He got to the address and instinctively pulled out his gun. He went to the only open door. He looked in to see Neal, seated on the ground, just in awe. His jaw was open, his eyes shining. His fingers were madly texting at the same time. He didn't seem to react to the beeping nearby. Peter thought he looked like a kid staring at the Christmas windows in Manhattan. He walked in.
"Sweet mother." Peter couldn't believe his eyes. He heard part of him saying Neal was guilty, but the larger part said Neal was innocent.
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"It could make a con man rich beyond his wildest dreams." Peter said sarcastically. He wasnt ready to let Neal off the hook yet. He might just be showing off his heist.
"A con would. A man would be in awe and then want them returned." Neal said, no flinch or condemnation in his voice. "I can't believe how beautiful it all is."
"Did you obtain it illegally?"
"I didn't obtain it anyway." Neal sighed, still enraptured by the sight in front of him. He held up a key. "Here, this was waiting for me at home with a note. I forgot the note."
Peter walked over and took the key, picking it up with the tip of his pen. "Why did you text me?"
"I had to. I can't sell this. It's not mine. This is art, Peter. This is beauty. This belongs to the world to see again. It's not fair or right to have one man hoard it. This is to be shared."
"This is coming from the man who was an art thief and forger?"
"Was is the operative word, and I still say it is alleged art thief and forger." Neal said smugly, still not looking at Peter.
Peter called Jones and Diana, giving them the adress. "Neal, tell me what that painting your staring at is."
Neal made a tsking sound like a parent chiding an errant child. "That's not just a painting. That's . . . that's akin to the Holy Grail of Art. It's "Portrait of a Young Man" by Raphael."
Peter wrote it down. "How do I know you didn't just forge it? Trying to throw me off the scent."
"Peter, I'm genuinely flattered if you think I have the talent to forge Raphael. He's one of the great masters. I'm insulted that you would think I'd do that, but still flattered. The command of the brush, the use of color, the play of the light and shadow." Neal sighed in what to Peter reminded him of a man achieving orgasm. Against his better judgement he was believing Neal was innocent.
He called up the art heist department. "Look, you are going to think me crazy but can you check a piece of art for me?" Peter tapped his foot. "Ok, its "Portrait of a Young Man" by Raphael." He set his jaw and fingered his cuffs. "It's stolen then?" He heard Neal make a snort, like that was a given. "When?" Peter nearly dropped the phone. "Krakow? World War 2? . . . I think I have something that you really ought to see." Peter gave them the address.
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"We are looking at the Nazi stolen art loot. Probably not all of it, I mean there is no way this size of a warehouse could hold everything, but at least we are looking at a good chunk of it. Marble statues, gold ones, antique frames, I just can't believe it. I didn't steal this and I didn't forge it. Honest."
"Shh. I believe you. If you had, frankly I never would have probably caught you." Peter sat next to Neal. "You know you are going to have to give this back."
"I knew it when I texted you. I didn't even think of keeping it for more then maybe a few minutes."
"Why, Neal?"
"Because . . . because it's just the right thing to do. Also, well. . .it's what a man would do and it's what you would want me to do. You hurt me and you pissed me off royally, I mean, this was the first time you just assumed I was bad without any real proof. I know I screw up a lot. I try and this is all a whole new ballgame for me. Even you would have to admit sometimes the rules arent cut and dried." Neal sniffled and tried to hide wiping his eyes.
Peter discretely handed Neal a hankie."I know. We still need to figure out how your picture got there but that's for another day." Peter couldn't resist mussing Neal's hair. "I was wrong. It doesn't happen very often but it does sometimes. I was mad at you nearly getting killed again. You are getting a little two close to men with guns who are better shots then you for my taste. Sometimes when I tell you to wait, I do have a good reason. You are proficient and a good shot but there is a big difference between Adler, and Fowler, and your father probably, and you."
"They didn't get caught?" Neal ducked out of the way of the fatherly cuff he knew was coming.
"No. They don't care what they do with that gun. Deep down, you are a very good boy who can be very naughty. You though don't have a mean bone in your body. You aren't a killer or a psychopath or really a sociopath. You and Mozzie dabble on the shallow end of sociopathy but thankfully neither of you want to go any further. You both just do it, you to prove you are just as good in your own way and Mozzie I think because somewhere inside Mozzie, the 60s slogan of 'Stick it to the Man' became an internalized anthem. Also, I have a good idea you bull crapped how you met Mozzie to keep me from knowing who he really is. As long as I don't need to know, then I won't make you tell." Peter sighed. "Good again?" He stook his hand out.
"Yeah, good again. I am though going to look up all the definitions of sociopath. I'm not sure whether or not to feel insulted. If I feel insulted I reserve the right to sulk and pout." Neal nodded as if that was automatically agreeable and a done and signed deal. Peter shook his head, it was a quirk of Neal that Peter found endearing and irritating at the same time.
Neal took a deep breath. "Are you proud of me? I mean that I went right to you and turned it in. I didn't even pocket anything. You can even frisk me."
Peter stared at Neal, such a mix of man and little boy. He was such an attention whore, hungry for every morsel of attention and praise he could get. He lapped it up. If Neal had a tail, Peter was sure it would be quivering and wagging expectantly. Neal was a puzzle, a challenge, an enigma, a riddle, a frustration, but he was also a partner, a friend, a joy, and a son. He was beginning to take baby steps into adolescence. He was on his way of moving out of being a child into a Man, but Peter didn't doubt that there wouldnt still be headaches and gray hairs as Neal tested his boundaries and grew up. He hoped the good Lord would give him the patience and strength to guide Neal into manhood, which to Peter looked very promising indeed. "Yes, yes I am very proud of you. El will be too. I don't think I need to frisk you. Besides, I don't think I want to know all of the places you can hide things. You're my best friend and family, but I really don't need to know all that."
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"Goodbye." He heard Neal softly say and drop an oragami rose. Neal got up. "Ok, Peter, I'm ready to go now."
"Go where?"
"Home, with you."
"What?"
Neal sighed. "June is gone and the tv is on the fritz. El cooks better then take out and they are showing a marathon of Antiques Roadshow tonight. Mozzie talks through it. I want to play with your dog. I want to spend the night. I don't want to be alone anymore."
"What's the goodbye and the rose?"
Neal sighed again, a sadder sound. "I said Goodbye to Kate, and meant it. I was tempted for a few minutes. So tempted I could taste it, I could feel it. I could smell it. But then it disappeared. I realized it wouldn't bring Kate back. I had to let her go. She's gone and I can't stay holding onto a ghost. I also can't go back to it. I don't want to end up like HIM, or like my Dad. I want something better. So I said goodbye to being a con."
Peter glasped an arm around Neal's shoulders. "Come on, I think there is a good bottle of wine at home waiting for a taste test. Touch my beer though and you die."
"Touch your beer? Your beer isn't even good beer. It's cheap beer."
"It's economical beer. We are going to have to start educating you on living within your means."
"That doesn't sound like all that much fun. Have you seen the size of my paycheck? I think I will still keep my emergency cash flow."
"Do I want to know about your emergency cash flow?"
"Ah...no. Probably, no definitely not." Peter smirked. He would let it lie. Rome wasn't built in a day and Neal Caffrey wasn't going to grow up in one day either. Great masterpieces take time and patience but reap huge rewards in the end. When there was something he wanted as much as Neal's rehabilitation, Peter Burke could be the most patient man alive.
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