White Collar Fic: The Leap Part 1
Title: The Leap
Author:
iamhere23
Rating: PG-13
Characters and/or Pairing: teen!Neal, Peter, Elizabeth, Mozzie
Word count: this part ~ 7200
Warnings: panic attacks, violence to a minor, cursing
All mistakes are my own.
PART 1
Special Agent Peter Burke looked up as the door opened with an automatic click. It was noisy inside the visiting hall of Crossroads Juvenile Center. There were a lot of kids and visitors scattered in different tables around the room. A woman who looked just like the boy sitting in front of her in an orange jumpsuit was crying loudly.
He was directed to the last table away from the door he just entered. The Correctional Officer gestured for him to sit down as he explained the situation to Peter.
"We've been trying to contact his parents or guardians. We haven't found any yet. He hasn't used his phone calls to call them or his attorney, says he doesn't have one. He's having a Detention Hearing before a judge in two days. You've talked to his social worker? She'll come in with Caffrey when you talk to him."
Peter nodded. He had talked to the woman for a few minutes before making the trip to the Detention Center. His first impression, even over the phone, had been that she wasn't interested in helping. She certainly wasn't interested in getting in the way of the FBI for a criminal kid, which in this instance was alright with him. He really needed to get something out of him.
"Anything else I should know about?" Peter asked.
"Not really. He got into a fight with some of the other punks yesterday during lunch, but he's okay."
Peter nodded to acknowledge the information as the CO left him sitting down on the bench and went off to get the prisoner. Peter couldn't believe he was actually in a Juvie Hall. As part of the White Collar division of the FBI he never thought that he'd have to deal with a teenager criminal. Who has ever heard of a teenager forger/con artist?
After a few minutes the door in front of him opened and the same CO returned with a teenager in an orange jumpsuit and a woman behind him, whom he assumed was Carly Jackson, the social worker.
Neal Caffrey was not too tall for a fifteen year old. His head was covered with a mop of wavy brown hair. It was a bit greasy and fell over his face on the right side, but otherwise it looked perfectly styled. He had the brightest blue eyes Peter had ever seen. He moved a bit stiffly and had a nasty bruise on his arm, but as he turned to sit in front of Peter he flashed him an incredibly disarming smile. Miss Jackson took a seat beside the boy, far enough so they didn't touch.
"I'm Peter Burke, FBI. NYC White Collar Division." He set his badge in the table in front of him. "So, Neal Caffrey, adolescent criminal, I presume?"
Caffrey's smile widened as he took a searching look at Peter and decided that he liked him. "Alleged adolescent criminal, Agent Burke," he said.
"Cut the crap Caffrey. You were caught in the act. There were stolen and forged paintings right beside you in that warehouse."
"But you can't actually prove if I forged them or not," Caffrey replied.
"We still have you on possession of stolen property. Do you really think that if I look very hard, I won't find something to add forgery to that?" Peter asked.
Caffrey didn't even bother to answer. He was looking at Peter's badge, examining it, as if he could find something to prove that it was a fake.
"I've never met a federal agent before," he said as he handed the badge back to Peter.
"I think most fifteen year olds wouldn't have a reason to know one."
"Yeah, well I'm not most fifteen year olds, can't you tell?" Caffrey answered with another smile. Peter could see that the kid was good at deflecting and he was good at lying. He was smart too. He liked smart.
Peter opened the file he had carried along and started reading. "Neal Caffrey, fifteen years old. Mother deceased four years ago, father deceased thirteen years ago. Born in New Jersey. You have no other family except your mother's sister, who lives with her husband and their two children." He looked up to find Caffrey looking directly at him. He seemed to be paying attention, looking to see if there was something in the file he could actually refute or use to his advantage.
"It seems like you've been living on your own here in New York City for a while," Peter continued, "there's no record of you in school for at least 3 years. You got caught once before when you were 12 for shop lifting, got sent to a foster home after a week in Juvie. They couldn't locate any relatives, but it didn't matter because you ran away after a day. You've been in the Missing Children posters and alerts for years now, but nobody has seen or heard form you since then. How have you been able to stay underground for so long?"
Neal shrugged. "Good luck and charm of course, Agent Burke."
Peter sighed. He obviously wouldn't get anything by being subtle, so he tried another approach. "Caffrey, you know why I'm here, right?"
Neal raised his eyebrows, blinked once and answered truthfully. "You need me to provide you with information about the art heists and forgery scams that have been taking place with increasing frequency in the last few months."
"Yes," Peter said, deciding to be honest with him as well. "In fact, you are our only lead in this case. We've never been this close before and I've been working on this for 2 years. I need you to help me catch whoever is behind this, because I don't believe for a second that I have before me a teen criminal mastermind capable of pulling all of this off."
Neal actually looked offended as he replied. "You hurt my feelings Agent Burke. Maybe you'd like to consider the fact that I'm that good."
"Oh, I don't doubt that you're very good. But this is a big operation, too big for someone of your stature to pull off," Peter said.
Caffrey seemed to consider his position for a few seconds before answering. "I can't give you anything Agent Burke," he said slowly. "I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"What about the forgeries?"
Caffrey's demeanor changed instantly and he asked in a conceited tone, "They are pretty accurate, don't you think?"
"Tell me you didn't do this." Peter insisted.
"I didn't do this?" Neal said with a shrug.
"Dammit Caffrey," Peter swore under his breath. He stood up and started pacing before the table. He took a look at the boy again. Too smart for his own good, he concluded. Something about him made Peter want to help him, but he couldn't. He couldn't do a single thing for him if he didn't give anything in return. He was a con and a criminal after all. He wasn't to be trusted. "They're putting you inside for good. You'll be here until you're 18. You know that, right?"
"Yes, I'm aware of that," he said as he looked away.
"You still won't give me anything?" Peter asked.
Neal looked at his hands and his bruised arm. Despite everything he had to fear inside this place, it still wasn't enough to go against the man that he knew would be waiting for him outside. "Sorry, no," he said quietly, not meeting Peter's eyes.
Peter took one more look at him and then turned to the social worker. "Miss Jackson, I guess that will be all." She stood up to shake his hand and went to call the CO to take Neal back inside.
Neal stood up and Peter saw him shudder as he looked back at the corridor filled with detainees in orange jumpsuits. Some of the guys in there didn't even look like kids, Peter thought, as he followed Caffrey's gaze. Some had stubble, and most of them were tattooed. Caffrey looked positively innocent and out of place compared to those other guys.
"Wait" Peter called as Neal started to walk to the door. Neal turned around to Peter and gave him a questioning look. "Just…" He paused trying to find something to say. "Be careful, Caffrey."
"I'll be fine Agent Burke. I'm always fine." He gave Peter a final dazzling smile, turned around, and walked confidently into the crowd to wait for visiting hour to be over.
As soon as he was sure that Agent Burke had left the visiting area, Neal tried to move as fast as he could to the other door at the end of the hall without bumping or touching any of the other guys. Neal couldn't help thinking about how big some of them were, or how dangerous. All the prisoners had to wait for visiting hours to be over in a common hall for the COs to take them back to their cells.
He could spot Keller and his goons on the left, looking at him. He avoided their gaze and continued moving to the end of the hall. There were 10 minutes left before they would take them back inside and he didn't really want a reprise of yesterday's fight. Four big guys had taken his lunch food and roughed him up until the officers decided to get intervene. Then, they decided he wasn't hurt enough for the infirmary, and they just took him back to his cell. It really wasn't fair. He had no chance against four guys. His hands curled up into fists thinking about it. He might not have looked hurt, he wasn't bleeding or anything, but he still felt hurt. He wasn't about to admit it to anyone, but some pain killers would have been heaven sent last night.
He reached the end of the hall and started thinking about the visit he just received. Peter Burke seemed like a competent agent. Although rarely honest himself, Neal liked the honesty and determination in Peter's eyes. He had done the right thing in not helping him. According to Mozzie no "suit" could be trusted. He wasn't sure helping Agent Burke would help him get out of here. He didn't need less time in Juvie, he needed to get out. He couldn't risk telling a suit about him if that didn't get him out in return.
He was still thinking about this when he noticed that everyone had drifted away from where he was. He looked around and saw Keller and two of the guys from yesterday approaching him. No… he turned to look at the clock in the wall behind him on the other side of the bars. Five minutes left. Great. Plenty of time for a nice beating.
As soon as he realized that he wouldn't be able to get away he just couldn't think anymore. His breathing was getting faster by the second, he could feel his palms sweating, and his blood pounding in his head. He didn't know if he could take this for much longer. He needed to get out of here. He tried to yell for a guard when one of the bigger guys grabbed him by the shoulders, but nothing would come out and he struggled to breathe. The last thing he thought before the pain and unconsciousness was that Mozzie had better hurry up with a plan because he didn't think he could last inside for much longer.
* * * *
Peter returned to his house that day feeling more conflicted that he'd been in a long time. Neal Caffrey was an enigma to him, and he just couldn't fight the thought running through his head in an endless loop.
He's just a kid. Fifteen, just a kid...
What had happened to Caffrey to make him go into a life of crime? Something was definitely wrong with the system if they had let an eleven year old live by himself in the streets. No wonder he had turned to a criminal life to survive. Nonetheless, he was a criminal now. He couldn't trust him, of that much he was sure. He was a con. The only problem was that if he didn't get another break in this case soon, then he'd have to go back to Caffrey and do the dance all over again. Caffrey wouldn't want to talk, again, and he'd be left with nothing. Again.
Peter was sitting in his dining room table going over Caffrey's files when he heard the door open and Satchmo got up from his place near the sofa to greet his wife.
"Hi hon," Elizabeth said in a cheerful voice looking over the papers spread around the table and reaching over to kiss her husband.
"Hey El. How was your day?" Peter lifted his head to kiss her, and she pulled her arms around him in a hug.
"A bit frantic. One of the places where we order flower arrangements got robbed last night and they won't be able to finish the orders we had for this weekend, so I spent half the morning going to other places and trying to arrange everything for the Martin wedding on Saturday." Elizabeth waited for Peter to say something but he seemed absorbed in the file he was reading.
"How about you hon? How was your day?" she asked as she sat down beside him.
"Well, we finally got a break on that big art forgery case," Peter answered, still reading the file on his hand.
"That's great honey," said Elizabeth watching him closely.
Peter frowned at something he read on the file.
"It's not great?" she asked curiously.
Peter put down the file and turned to face Elizabeth. "It's not what I expected. We'd been keeping tabs on 3 museums over the last week. I had a hunch that one of them would be the next target. We struck luck and caught one of the criminals with an impeccable forgery and the original painting that was being stolen."
"That's good then. You finally have a lead to investigate who's behind all of this."
"Like I said, it's just not what I expected. The policemen saw three people, but they only caught one: fifteen year old Neal Caffrey. I went to see him today at Crossroads Juvenile Center." Peter explained.
El frowned at the unexpected information. "Fifteen? What was he doing there? Where are his parents?"
"No parents. His dad was a dirty cop that died in a shooting when he was two. Caffrey probably doesn't even remember him. His mom was shot by a thief on her way back home from work when he was eleven. He's been living with God knows who for the last four years. Apparently he's kept busy building up a criminal career as well." Peter looked perplexed; there had to be something more to the story.
"So he's not telling you what you want to know?"
Peter shook his head. "No. He wouldn't say…anything, which doesn't make any sense. He's already caught. He's been to Juvie before so this is his second offence. He'll be locked up until he's eighteen for this. If he talks then I can get him a deal."
El raised her eyebrows. "So, if he talks he gets less time in jail and then a foster group home for delinquents?"
"Yes. Either way it doesn't look good for him. He's got to know that a foster home is better than where he is now." Peter moved some papers around and started going through one file while he talked. "In the same holding area with Caffrey there's a seventeen year old charged with the attempted murder of a pregnant woman, a fifteen year old sentenced for beating to death another teen, a fourteen year old convicted for murdering his father with a hammer…"
Peter lifted some of the papers in the folder while he scanned them. "Teenagers in for murder, robbery, assault, rape, drug offenders…" He let the papers drop on the table and rested his head in his hands. He couldn't go on. He knew that White Collar crimes where the 'elegant' type of crimes, but that didn't mean a thing inside prison.
"I've read every file on him. Caffrey might be a liar and a con but he's not violent. I don't think I want that to change. Why won't he talk, El? He's smart, smarter than a lot of the Harvard probies around the FBI."
She grabbed his hand and started rubbing small circles on it with her thumb. "If he's that smart then he knows that someone outside is watching him. You said he's got a boss somewhere that's behind all of this? Neal probably knows that nothing good will come out of ratting him out. He'll probably be in more trouble than he already is in Juvie," she concluded.
"El, I don't know how I got to marry someone so brilliant." Peter smiled and reached over to give her a kiss. She kissed him back and got up to get dinner ready. Peter watched her leave and continued going over the files. He needed to catch a new break with this case. He would have to go back to talk with Caffrey.
* * * *
Neal stared at his ceiling. He felt cold, despite the blanket he had wrapped around his shoulders. He was hurting again. It had been 3 weeks since they've caught him, 20 days since he'd turned down Agent Burke's offer. Less time in Juvie for selling out Adler, it was starting to look like a sweet deal after all.
Keller and his goons: Stupid, Jackass and Dumbass - as he referred to them in his mind - had been treating him like a human punching bag ever since he entered Crossroads. He'd been in the infirmary four times in 21 days. Neal thought it was almost as if they were trying to make him hurt slowly. They hadn't managed to break anything yet and the doctor wasn't worried about extensive damage, but his bruised ribs, arms, and face begged to differ with his assessment. Neal had tried everything he could think of to get out of their way. He'd stayed inside his cell every single time he could, but he couldn't avoid breakfast, lunch, and dinner in the common hall. They liked to steal his food, and Neal couldn't remember a time when he'd felt more hungry and hurt in his life.
Alone. You feel alone, he thought. But he'd always felt alone. He'd spent most of his life alone. Mozzie hadn't visited him yet. Not that Neal had ever thought he would. He had sent letters, every time with a different alias and a different address. Neal knew he shouldn't respond to any of the letters anyway.
The plan was almost finished. A small guy who was known for getting and distributing contraband inside had brought him a package yesterday. It contained street clothes (a pair of jeans, tennis shoes, a faded blue t-shirt, a black hoodie sweater, and a baseball cap), there was an electronic access card, and a paper labeled "Instructions". He had read through the plan more times than he could think of. He'd memorized the steps and had then flushed the paper down the toilet.
Thank God for Mozzie. Everything was ready for his escape the next day.
Neal tried not to think about it, but he knew things were getting too hard for him to handle. He knew what happened when he was too anxious... The beatings were getting harder to avoid. He'd been passing out more than he usually did. He couldn't take three years of this. He couldn't take another day of this. Keller had warned him the last time they saw each other, after Kate had joined Mozzie and him to work for Adler. It had been her choice.
Mathew Keller was in for murder. He'd killed two security guards after stealing some paintings from the Channing. Kate had dumped Keller six months before she'd ever even seen Neal, but that didn't deter Keller from forming an unusually strong dislike towards him.
It didn't matter at the end…Kate was dead.
Neal closed his eyes and tried to remember her smile, the fruity smell of her hair, her gorgeous blue eyes, and her wonderful laugh. She had been a friend. His girlfriend, the first girl he'd ever liked. One of the only persons in his life he'd ever cared about. One of the only ones who'd cared about him. Mozzie had explained it in a letter, and Neal still couldn't believe that he would never see her again. Adler's men had killed her after they had messed up their last job. He was caught and she was dead. Mozzie was too good to get caught by either the suits or Adler, so Kate had paid the price for their failure.
He tossed around in his bed and turned to face the wall. It was night and hardly any light made its way through the window above him.
I didn't even say goodbye. She didn't say goodbye. She just...left…
He turned around and wrapped the blanket tighter around his shoulders.
Tomorrow. I'll get the hell away from here tomorrow and everything will be okay.
He felt tired. He closed his eyes and tried to rest, even though he knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep.
* * * *
Neal sat down for a few seconds, trying to compose himself. It was visiting hours during Saturday. It was the busiest time of the week and little attention was put to the ones that stayed in their cells. He grabbed the bag with the clothes from inside the toilet and dried it off with a towel. He opened it and took out the security card, but left the clothes. He pulled down the zipper from the orange jumpsuit and put the bag with the clothes inside. He had a bit of trouble zipping it back up, but he managed it. Neal thought he probably looked like a chubby kid in clothes way too tight. He sat back down in his bed and waited.
He tapped his foot nervously, his breathing getting faster again, until he heard his cell door click open. Neal looked carefully outside to see if anyone had noticed a door opening but there wasn't anyone near his cell, and if some of his neighbors heard, they didn't seem to care. He got out and walked as normally as he could down the corridor. The last thing he needed was someone to spot him running in the surveillance cameras. He hid behind a turn in the next passageway and waited for a CO to pass with a small kid that looked scared out of his wits. He walked in the opposite direction and made his way to the laundry room.
He had the security access card in his hand. He held it up and swapped it through. The little flashing light turned green and he quickly stepped inside. It was a big place but there was no one inside at the moment. They had an hour for lunch break. He followed a small clearing between the washing machines all the way to another door. He swapped the card again and went through. The food company's truck was parked a few feet away, as promised. He looked both ways, walked over, opened the back door to the truck, got inside, and closed it behind him. It was big and he made his way to the back. There was a small space behind some boxes. He took out the bag of clothes and changed. He pushed his hair back and put the cap on.
Neal sat down to wait, and ten minutes later he heard muffled voices from outside, then some doors slamming and the truck being started. He felt it move and smiled.
Thanks Mozz.
He was on his way to freedom at last.
* * * *
Neal had always liked New York City. It was a wonderful place for someone that didn't want to be found. Neal had made his way out of the food truck when it stopped at a red light after 15 minutes of pulling away from Crossroads. He made his way to a nearby park and sat down in a bench that was in a quiet area. Mozzie hadn't really specified what he should do or how they would get in touch after his escape.
Neal did a mental inventory of everything he had and what he should do. The officers in Crossroads probably wouldn't notice that he was gone until they went through the rounds at dinner time. Neal smiled at the thought. They would go inside his cell and find a perfectly good imitation of a body in his bed, made out of a pillow and books beneath his blanket. They would probably sound the alarm then, but he still had a good two hour head start before he would really have to worry about it.
His clothes made him look like any other teenager on the streets. Although he usually preferred something a bit classier, like a button down dress shirt, some nice pants, and his fedora, he admitted that his current look was for the best. At least the clothes were clean.
Apart from his attire, he didn't have anything else. Mozzie had sent him some money with the package but it had never reached him. Neal was pretty sure that someone had picked it out before the bag actually got to him. Not that money was really an issue for him. He'd been picking pockets and conning his way every day since he was eleven. No, money definitely wasn't the problem. The problem was that he was feeling sub par, to say the least. He'd been in jail for almost a month. He'd been beaten almost every day, and he hadn't eaten a decent meal in ages. He was hungry. After fifteen minutes of trying to come up with a plan, that's the only thing he could actually come up with: he was so hungry.
Neal stood up with as much confidence as possible, and started walking in the direction where he knew there would be some easy targets. After some time walking around, he spotted his mark. He walked briskly towards the man, and ten seconds later he had his wallet in his own pocket. Neal took cover behind a tree and went through the wallet. He came up with forty dollars in cash. He wasn't stupid enough to try to use any of the credit cards. He put the money in his back pocket and walked over towards two police officers eating lunch in a bench. He dropped the wallet beside a trash can where they couldn't miss it and walked away. He needed the money, but the guy obviously needed his ID and cards back. He was sure that the police men would pick it up.
After crossing the street to a nearby slightly disgusting looking pizza place, he made his way back to his original bench and sat down to attack two pieces of pizza and an orange soda. It was Saturday, which meant that Mozzie was most likely at his place in Sunday. Neal decided that he would go to his flat and see if he could find him there. If that didn't work out, then he'd just have to look at the rest of his places. One place for every day of the week. They weren't too far apart, but it would take time. At least he had a plan now.
Neal digged into his second piece of pizza with gusto. Greasy pizza had never tasted better.
* * * *
To say he was disappointed was an understatement. It was late, he was tired, and hungry again. To make matters worse, he'd been halfway around New York City by now and he hadn't found traces of Mozzie anywhere. Every single place was empty. His last hope was Monday. Unfortunately, that particular flat was located dangerously close to Crossroads. Well, not close enough to worry, but it was also in Brooklyn. By now, they had found out he escaped. They had probably alerted the police. He had to be careful.
Neal made his way towards a small shop in the corner of a street and bought a sandwich and a bottle of water. He made his way out of the light and tried to walk calmly down the street when he saw a police car drive by slowly. He fought the sudden impulse to run as fast as possible and his heart started pounding inside his rib cage. The best disguise was achieved by being a nobody, blending in with the environment. Mozzie had taught him that. He released a shaky breath when the car turned a corner up ahead and he was alone in the street once more.
This wasn't good. He needed somewhere out of the way to eat his food and then make his way to Mozzie's before someone spotted a kid all alone out in the middle of a chilly night and started asking questions. The shortest route to Mozzie's place involved going through some quiet residential streets.
Neal was looking around when he spotted the perfect place down some stairs of an abandoned looking house. He made his way down and sat at the bottom, in front of a black door. The place was dirty, but he couldn't bring himself to care. After making sure that he couldn't be spotted from the street, he sat down in the last concrete stair. He was about to take a bite of his sandwich when he heard a voice dangerously close to him. He was startled, thinking he'd been made out, but after a second of near panic, he realized that the voice wasn't talking to him.
"Hand it over lady. I don't want to tell you again." Neal made his way slowly up the stairs crouching low so he could observe what was going on in the street.
"Okay, just let me go first. I'll give you my purse, just let my arm go so I can give it to you."
The other voice sounded remarkably collected. Neal went up another step and saw that the first voice belonged to a large man. He had a mask on and he was grabbing a woman by her right forearm. Neal couldn't make out much of her face, but by the sound of her voice he could tell that she wasn't too old.
"This is the last time lady. Give me your purse or you'll get hurt." He sounded angry now, and Neal realized that he had been slurring his words. He was most likely drunk, but that only made him more dangerous. He watched with increasing horror as the man grabbed the woman closer and reached with his other hand for something in his pocket. He was taking it out and Neal saw a flash of silver. He was mugging this woman, and now he had a gun. He was going to kill her.
Neal's breathing was getting dangerously defective by now. His heart was pounding rapidly and he could feel the rhythm pounding in his head. This wasn't happening…
Gun. Neal, gun. Run. Now.
Without giving it a second thought, he quickly climbed the last of the stairs and pulled the man's left foot as hard as he could. The man was obviously caught off guard and he released the woman immediately while he stumbled back. Neal turned around and pushed him down the stairs. The man never saw it coming, and he disappeared stumbling down all the way to the last step, where Neal had been hiding a moment before.
Not wasting any time, Neal turned around, caught the woman's scared eyes, and made his way over to grab her hand.
"Come on", he said quickly, "I don't think he'll stay down there for long." He pulled on her hand and turned around to run towards safety. She hesitated for a second and then she started running with him. They made it down two blocks until they stopped and rested panting against a wall in front of a lamp post.
"I think we lost him." The woman was talking to him. He turned his head to look at her. She was pretty, beautiful actually. Her face was flushed. She had long brown wavy hair and she was dressed impeccably, but the thing that caught his attention was her bright blue eyes. His head was still pounding and he put a hand up to his head to try to hold it still.
"Hey, are you okay?" She asked, concern evident in her voice.
Neal turned to look at her again and felt himself starting to calm down a bit. Good. The last thing he needed was to pass out in front of a complete stranger. A perfectly nice looking stranger, but a stranger none the less.
"Yeah." He tried to sound as normal as possible. "Yeah, I'm okay, just out of air from running," he said quickly.
She turned away from him and looked down the street where they had come up running. She looked concerned, scared even.
"Don't worry he won't come looking for us," Neal said after observing her for a moment.
"How do you know?"
"He just won't. He sounded drunk, and you never go after someone who hasn't even seen you, that's just asking for more trouble."
The woman turned back to look at the strange person that had helped her. Now that they were beneath a bright light she looked a bit surprised at his appearance. He looked young, fourteen/fifteen years old. His hair looked long under his cap and his clothes were what any normal teenager would wear: jeans, t-shirt, a hoodie, and tennis shoes. Something felt wrong though. What was a kid doing out alone in the middle of the night? She looked at him as he straightened up and found herself smiling at the most wonderful blue eyes she'd ever seen.
"Thank you, by the way," she said coming over to stand in front of him. "I think you just saved my life."
The kid looked at her strangely, shook his head a little bit, and when she met his eyes again he flashed her a dazzling smile. "You're welcome. You should really be more careful."
His voice was soft, soothing. She checked him over again and noticed that despite his wonderful smile, he looked tired. He looked exhausted to say the truth. He was holding something in his hand and he turned it over and walked past her to throw it in the trash can. She saw that it was a rather pathetic looking sandwich. She immediately realized that he was too thin, his clothes were a bit loose. He was walking slowly too, as if he was sore.
"Did you hurt yourself?" she asked.
"No, I'm just tired. It's late and I'll probably be grounded for a month after I get home at this hour." Neal lied smoothly. The woman was looking too closely at him. Maybe she'd heard something about an escaped kid from Juvie. He had to get going before something else happened.
It didn't look like she believed him. "Do you have some place to go? Somewhere to stay for the night?"
"Yeah, I was on my way home from a party. My house is a bit far away from here tough, so I guess I'll just get going." Neal started walking when he felt a hand on his arm. He turned back and shook it off.
"Look, I'm not trying to get you in trouble or anything, but it's late. You just saved my life. You look tired and I live two blocks away from here." She nodded back to the direction they'd come from. "I had to park my car a block away and was walking to my house when that man tried to mug me." She paused for a moment. "What I'm trying to say is that you could come over to get cleaned up and I'll call you a cab or you could stay in my house for the night if you need somewhere to stay."
Neal was startled. The woman hardly knew him and she was inviting him to stay over. He could be a criminal… okay, yes, he was a criminal, but he could be the not so nice criminal type. Her offer sounded like a trap.
She saw him hesitating and asked another question, "Are you hungry? I've got some left overs back at my place."
Neal hesitated. He was tired. He felt sore. He was so hungry that his stomach was actually growling again, and to tell the truth, he didn't have any place to go to. His search for Mozzie had been futile and he was sure that the last place was empty as well. This woman was offering a free dinner and bed for the night. It sounded like a pretty good deal right then.
Forgetting to keep up his story about parents and a home he didn't have, he nodded once towards the strange woman in front of him. She smiled and started walking. Neal caught up with her quickly and walked quietly beside her until they reached a pleasant looking house about half a block were everything had happened earlier. She stopped at the door and looked at him expectantly, but didn't say a word.
"My name is Nick Halden, by the way," he offered, following her up the stairs.
She opened the door and turned back to invite him in.
"It's a pleasure Nick. I'm Elizabeth."
* * * *
Peter Burke walked towards his house. It was close to midnight and he was a bit surprised when he saw light coming from the window, but his uneasiness was quickly replaced by delight. He remembered that El was supposed to be working late that night, and she had probably just arrived home. Good. He was starving and could use a quiet conversation and a snack with his wife.
When he got the call a few hours ago, he couldn't believe it. Caffrey had actually escaped Juvie! No one had seen him leave, and it wasn't until later when they went over the security tapes, that they realized he had just walked out and no one had noticed. He'd been busy for the last 10 hours trying to find him, but the only thing they found was a discarded orange jumpsuit inside the food service truck. He'd decided to go home about half an hour ago, thinking about a warm bed and some food. One thing was certain, Caffrey wouldn't be easy to find. He obviously had some practice in the disappearing act area.
"Honey, I'm home" he called out when he stepped inside and started taking his coat off.
"Hi hon. I'm in the kitchen." He heard her shout back and saw Satchmo coming towards him with his tail wagging.
"Hey boy, what are you looking so pleased about?" he said softly as he rubbed behind the lab's ears.
Peter walked towards the kitchen and spotted Elizabeth in the sink rinsing some plates. He put his arms around her waist from behind and kissed her lightly in the neck.
"Mmm…" he hummed as he closed his eyes for a moment. El set down the plate she was holding and turned to give him a kiss.
"I missed you El." Peter murmured.
"I missed you too, hon. Long day? You look exhausted."
"Caffrey escaped today. You know, the kid I told you about the other day? He slipped out of Juvie and I've been trying to help them find him." Peter released her and turned to open the fridge to get some leftovers. He was starving. He put them in a plate and into the microwave.
"Well, he can't have gone too far. He'll turn up sooner or later Peter."
"I just hope he doesn't turn up dead in a ditch somewhere." He grabbed a fork and sat down to eat. "How did your thing go tonight? Anything exciting happening in the world of event planning?"
"The party was quite a success actually. I got a few new contacts as well." She sat down beside him and fidgeted nervously with a coffee mug in her hand.
"El, is something wrong?" Peter knew El wasn't one prone to nervousness and she always told him when something wasn't all right.
"Actually Peter, something did happen," she started carefully, "someone tried to mug me tonight when I was walking from the car." Peter dropped his fork immediately and grabbed her hand.
"Are you okay? Did you call the police? Why didn't you call me?" He asked rapidly. Suddenly the warmth he had felt during the last minutes evaporated, a feeling of helplessness and concern taking its place.
"No Peter. Don't worry, nothing even happened." Elizabeth tried to sound reassuring. "A man grabbed my arm and told me to give him my purse. I told him that he had to let me go and I'd give him the purse. He was getting fidgety when suddenly he let go. I turned around and saw that a someone had yanked him towards some stairs and pushed him. He grabbed my hand and we ran away."
"So you're okay? The man didn't follow you?" Peter asked.
"I'm fine. We waited for a while and walked back towards the house, but the man was already gone." She paused for a second. "Nick saved my life, Peter."
"Nick?"
"Yeah, that's the name of the teenager that came to my rescue."
Peter finally let Elizabeth's hands down and rubbed his face with his palms. Oh, this day just keeps getting better, he thought, now my wife was almost mugged. He looked at his plate and realized he wasn't hungry anymore. He grabbed his beer and gave it a small sip, and then noticed that the table had two table settings. Two used dessert plates and two coffee mugs were still on the table. Someone else had been over for dinner.
"El, why are there two sets of plates?" he asked.
Elizabeth didn't seem surprised. Peter thought she looked like she had been expecting the question since he came home. "Well, I invited Nick over for dinner. He looked tired and hungry. He's too thin Peter, and I don't think he had another place to stay tonight," she said getting up to finish cleaning. "I asked him to stay for the night and he said yes."
"You asked a complete stranger to dinner and to stay the night in our home?" Peter asked, his voice rising angrily. "Where is he now?"
Elizabeth was about to speak when they heard the door from the bathroom upstairs close and someone coming down the stairs. "He went to the bathroom."
Satchmo got up and turned towards the stairs happily, obviously going to greet the mysterious stranger in the stairs. Peter got up quickly and went after him.
Next Part Master post
Author:
iamhere23
Rating: PG-13
Characters and/or Pairing: teen!Neal, Peter, Elizabeth, Mozzie
Word count: this part ~ 7200
Warnings: panic attacks, violence to a minor, cursing
All mistakes are my own.
PART 1
Special Agent Peter Burke looked up as the door opened with an automatic click. It was noisy inside the visiting hall of Crossroads Juvenile Center. There were a lot of kids and visitors scattered in different tables around the room. A woman who looked just like the boy sitting in front of her in an orange jumpsuit was crying loudly.
He was directed to the last table away from the door he just entered. The Correctional Officer gestured for him to sit down as he explained the situation to Peter.
"We've been trying to contact his parents or guardians. We haven't found any yet. He hasn't used his phone calls to call them or his attorney, says he doesn't have one. He's having a Detention Hearing before a judge in two days. You've talked to his social worker? She'll come in with Caffrey when you talk to him."
Peter nodded. He had talked to the woman for a few minutes before making the trip to the Detention Center. His first impression, even over the phone, had been that she wasn't interested in helping. She certainly wasn't interested in getting in the way of the FBI for a criminal kid, which in this instance was alright with him. He really needed to get something out of him.
"Anything else I should know about?" Peter asked.
"Not really. He got into a fight with some of the other punks yesterday during lunch, but he's okay."
Peter nodded to acknowledge the information as the CO left him sitting down on the bench and went off to get the prisoner. Peter couldn't believe he was actually in a Juvie Hall. As part of the White Collar division of the FBI he never thought that he'd have to deal with a teenager criminal. Who has ever heard of a teenager forger/con artist?
After a few minutes the door in front of him opened and the same CO returned with a teenager in an orange jumpsuit and a woman behind him, whom he assumed was Carly Jackson, the social worker.
Neal Caffrey was not too tall for a fifteen year old. His head was covered with a mop of wavy brown hair. It was a bit greasy and fell over his face on the right side, but otherwise it looked perfectly styled. He had the brightest blue eyes Peter had ever seen. He moved a bit stiffly and had a nasty bruise on his arm, but as he turned to sit in front of Peter he flashed him an incredibly disarming smile. Miss Jackson took a seat beside the boy, far enough so they didn't touch.
"I'm Peter Burke, FBI. NYC White Collar Division." He set his badge in the table in front of him. "So, Neal Caffrey, adolescent criminal, I presume?"
Caffrey's smile widened as he took a searching look at Peter and decided that he liked him. "Alleged adolescent criminal, Agent Burke," he said.
"Cut the crap Caffrey. You were caught in the act. There were stolen and forged paintings right beside you in that warehouse."
"But you can't actually prove if I forged them or not," Caffrey replied.
"We still have you on possession of stolen property. Do you really think that if I look very hard, I won't find something to add forgery to that?" Peter asked.
Caffrey didn't even bother to answer. He was looking at Peter's badge, examining it, as if he could find something to prove that it was a fake.
"I've never met a federal agent before," he said as he handed the badge back to Peter.
"I think most fifteen year olds wouldn't have a reason to know one."
"Yeah, well I'm not most fifteen year olds, can't you tell?" Caffrey answered with another smile. Peter could see that the kid was good at deflecting and he was good at lying. He was smart too. He liked smart.
Peter opened the file he had carried along and started reading. "Neal Caffrey, fifteen years old. Mother deceased four years ago, father deceased thirteen years ago. Born in New Jersey. You have no other family except your mother's sister, who lives with her husband and their two children." He looked up to find Caffrey looking directly at him. He seemed to be paying attention, looking to see if there was something in the file he could actually refute or use to his advantage.
"It seems like you've been living on your own here in New York City for a while," Peter continued, "there's no record of you in school for at least 3 years. You got caught once before when you were 12 for shop lifting, got sent to a foster home after a week in Juvie. They couldn't locate any relatives, but it didn't matter because you ran away after a day. You've been in the Missing Children posters and alerts for years now, but nobody has seen or heard form you since then. How have you been able to stay underground for so long?"
Neal shrugged. "Good luck and charm of course, Agent Burke."
Peter sighed. He obviously wouldn't get anything by being subtle, so he tried another approach. "Caffrey, you know why I'm here, right?"
Neal raised his eyebrows, blinked once and answered truthfully. "You need me to provide you with information about the art heists and forgery scams that have been taking place with increasing frequency in the last few months."
"Yes," Peter said, deciding to be honest with him as well. "In fact, you are our only lead in this case. We've never been this close before and I've been working on this for 2 years. I need you to help me catch whoever is behind this, because I don't believe for a second that I have before me a teen criminal mastermind capable of pulling all of this off."
Neal actually looked offended as he replied. "You hurt my feelings Agent Burke. Maybe you'd like to consider the fact that I'm that good."
"Oh, I don't doubt that you're very good. But this is a big operation, too big for someone of your stature to pull off," Peter said.
Caffrey seemed to consider his position for a few seconds before answering. "I can't give you anything Agent Burke," he said slowly. "I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"What about the forgeries?"
Caffrey's demeanor changed instantly and he asked in a conceited tone, "They are pretty accurate, don't you think?"
"Tell me you didn't do this." Peter insisted.
"I didn't do this?" Neal said with a shrug.
"Dammit Caffrey," Peter swore under his breath. He stood up and started pacing before the table. He took a look at the boy again. Too smart for his own good, he concluded. Something about him made Peter want to help him, but he couldn't. He couldn't do a single thing for him if he didn't give anything in return. He was a con and a criminal after all. He wasn't to be trusted. "They're putting you inside for good. You'll be here until you're 18. You know that, right?"
"Yes, I'm aware of that," he said as he looked away.
"You still won't give me anything?" Peter asked.
Neal looked at his hands and his bruised arm. Despite everything he had to fear inside this place, it still wasn't enough to go against the man that he knew would be waiting for him outside. "Sorry, no," he said quietly, not meeting Peter's eyes.
Peter took one more look at him and then turned to the social worker. "Miss Jackson, I guess that will be all." She stood up to shake his hand and went to call the CO to take Neal back inside.
Neal stood up and Peter saw him shudder as he looked back at the corridor filled with detainees in orange jumpsuits. Some of the guys in there didn't even look like kids, Peter thought, as he followed Caffrey's gaze. Some had stubble, and most of them were tattooed. Caffrey looked positively innocent and out of place compared to those other guys.
"Wait" Peter called as Neal started to walk to the door. Neal turned around to Peter and gave him a questioning look. "Just…" He paused trying to find something to say. "Be careful, Caffrey."
"I'll be fine Agent Burke. I'm always fine." He gave Peter a final dazzling smile, turned around, and walked confidently into the crowd to wait for visiting hour to be over.
As soon as he was sure that Agent Burke had left the visiting area, Neal tried to move as fast as he could to the other door at the end of the hall without bumping or touching any of the other guys. Neal couldn't help thinking about how big some of them were, or how dangerous. All the prisoners had to wait for visiting hours to be over in a common hall for the COs to take them back to their cells.
He could spot Keller and his goons on the left, looking at him. He avoided their gaze and continued moving to the end of the hall. There were 10 minutes left before they would take them back inside and he didn't really want a reprise of yesterday's fight. Four big guys had taken his lunch food and roughed him up until the officers decided to get intervene. Then, they decided he wasn't hurt enough for the infirmary, and they just took him back to his cell. It really wasn't fair. He had no chance against four guys. His hands curled up into fists thinking about it. He might not have looked hurt, he wasn't bleeding or anything, but he still felt hurt. He wasn't about to admit it to anyone, but some pain killers would have been heaven sent last night.
He reached the end of the hall and started thinking about the visit he just received. Peter Burke seemed like a competent agent. Although rarely honest himself, Neal liked the honesty and determination in Peter's eyes. He had done the right thing in not helping him. According to Mozzie no "suit" could be trusted. He wasn't sure helping Agent Burke would help him get out of here. He didn't need less time in Juvie, he needed to get out. He couldn't risk telling a suit about him if that didn't get him out in return.
He was still thinking about this when he noticed that everyone had drifted away from where he was. He looked around and saw Keller and two of the guys from yesterday approaching him. No… he turned to look at the clock in the wall behind him on the other side of the bars. Five minutes left. Great. Plenty of time for a nice beating.
As soon as he realized that he wouldn't be able to get away he just couldn't think anymore. His breathing was getting faster by the second, he could feel his palms sweating, and his blood pounding in his head. He didn't know if he could take this for much longer. He needed to get out of here. He tried to yell for a guard when one of the bigger guys grabbed him by the shoulders, but nothing would come out and he struggled to breathe. The last thing he thought before the pain and unconsciousness was that Mozzie had better hurry up with a plan because he didn't think he could last inside for much longer.
* * * *
Peter returned to his house that day feeling more conflicted that he'd been in a long time. Neal Caffrey was an enigma to him, and he just couldn't fight the thought running through his head in an endless loop.
He's just a kid. Fifteen, just a kid...
What had happened to Caffrey to make him go into a life of crime? Something was definitely wrong with the system if they had let an eleven year old live by himself in the streets. No wonder he had turned to a criminal life to survive. Nonetheless, he was a criminal now. He couldn't trust him, of that much he was sure. He was a con. The only problem was that if he didn't get another break in this case soon, then he'd have to go back to Caffrey and do the dance all over again. Caffrey wouldn't want to talk, again, and he'd be left with nothing. Again.
Peter was sitting in his dining room table going over Caffrey's files when he heard the door open and Satchmo got up from his place near the sofa to greet his wife.
"Hi hon," Elizabeth said in a cheerful voice looking over the papers spread around the table and reaching over to kiss her husband.
"Hey El. How was your day?" Peter lifted his head to kiss her, and she pulled her arms around him in a hug.
"A bit frantic. One of the places where we order flower arrangements got robbed last night and they won't be able to finish the orders we had for this weekend, so I spent half the morning going to other places and trying to arrange everything for the Martin wedding on Saturday." Elizabeth waited for Peter to say something but he seemed absorbed in the file he was reading.
"How about you hon? How was your day?" she asked as she sat down beside him.
"Well, we finally got a break on that big art forgery case," Peter answered, still reading the file on his hand.
"That's great honey," said Elizabeth watching him closely.
Peter frowned at something he read on the file.
"It's not great?" she asked curiously.
Peter put down the file and turned to face Elizabeth. "It's not what I expected. We'd been keeping tabs on 3 museums over the last week. I had a hunch that one of them would be the next target. We struck luck and caught one of the criminals with an impeccable forgery and the original painting that was being stolen."
"That's good then. You finally have a lead to investigate who's behind all of this."
"Like I said, it's just not what I expected. The policemen saw three people, but they only caught one: fifteen year old Neal Caffrey. I went to see him today at Crossroads Juvenile Center." Peter explained.
El frowned at the unexpected information. "Fifteen? What was he doing there? Where are his parents?"
"No parents. His dad was a dirty cop that died in a shooting when he was two. Caffrey probably doesn't even remember him. His mom was shot by a thief on her way back home from work when he was eleven. He's been living with God knows who for the last four years. Apparently he's kept busy building up a criminal career as well." Peter looked perplexed; there had to be something more to the story.
"So he's not telling you what you want to know?"
Peter shook his head. "No. He wouldn't say…anything, which doesn't make any sense. He's already caught. He's been to Juvie before so this is his second offence. He'll be locked up until he's eighteen for this. If he talks then I can get him a deal."
El raised her eyebrows. "So, if he talks he gets less time in jail and then a foster group home for delinquents?"
"Yes. Either way it doesn't look good for him. He's got to know that a foster home is better than where he is now." Peter moved some papers around and started going through one file while he talked. "In the same holding area with Caffrey there's a seventeen year old charged with the attempted murder of a pregnant woman, a fifteen year old sentenced for beating to death another teen, a fourteen year old convicted for murdering his father with a hammer…"
Peter lifted some of the papers in the folder while he scanned them. "Teenagers in for murder, robbery, assault, rape, drug offenders…" He let the papers drop on the table and rested his head in his hands. He couldn't go on. He knew that White Collar crimes where the 'elegant' type of crimes, but that didn't mean a thing inside prison.
"I've read every file on him. Caffrey might be a liar and a con but he's not violent. I don't think I want that to change. Why won't he talk, El? He's smart, smarter than a lot of the Harvard probies around the FBI."
She grabbed his hand and started rubbing small circles on it with her thumb. "If he's that smart then he knows that someone outside is watching him. You said he's got a boss somewhere that's behind all of this? Neal probably knows that nothing good will come out of ratting him out. He'll probably be in more trouble than he already is in Juvie," she concluded.
"El, I don't know how I got to marry someone so brilliant." Peter smiled and reached over to give her a kiss. She kissed him back and got up to get dinner ready. Peter watched her leave and continued going over the files. He needed to catch a new break with this case. He would have to go back to talk with Caffrey.
* * * *
Neal stared at his ceiling. He felt cold, despite the blanket he had wrapped around his shoulders. He was hurting again. It had been 3 weeks since they've caught him, 20 days since he'd turned down Agent Burke's offer. Less time in Juvie for selling out Adler, it was starting to look like a sweet deal after all.
Keller and his goons: Stupid, Jackass and Dumbass - as he referred to them in his mind - had been treating him like a human punching bag ever since he entered Crossroads. He'd been in the infirmary four times in 21 days. Neal thought it was almost as if they were trying to make him hurt slowly. They hadn't managed to break anything yet and the doctor wasn't worried about extensive damage, but his bruised ribs, arms, and face begged to differ with his assessment. Neal had tried everything he could think of to get out of their way. He'd stayed inside his cell every single time he could, but he couldn't avoid breakfast, lunch, and dinner in the common hall. They liked to steal his food, and Neal couldn't remember a time when he'd felt more hungry and hurt in his life.
Alone. You feel alone, he thought. But he'd always felt alone. He'd spent most of his life alone. Mozzie hadn't visited him yet. Not that Neal had ever thought he would. He had sent letters, every time with a different alias and a different address. Neal knew he shouldn't respond to any of the letters anyway.
The plan was almost finished. A small guy who was known for getting and distributing contraband inside had brought him a package yesterday. It contained street clothes (a pair of jeans, tennis shoes, a faded blue t-shirt, a black hoodie sweater, and a baseball cap), there was an electronic access card, and a paper labeled "Instructions". He had read through the plan more times than he could think of. He'd memorized the steps and had then flushed the paper down the toilet.
Thank God for Mozzie. Everything was ready for his escape the next day.
Neal tried not to think about it, but he knew things were getting too hard for him to handle. He knew what happened when he was too anxious... The beatings were getting harder to avoid. He'd been passing out more than he usually did. He couldn't take three years of this. He couldn't take another day of this. Keller had warned him the last time they saw each other, after Kate had joined Mozzie and him to work for Adler. It had been her choice.
Mathew Keller was in for murder. He'd killed two security guards after stealing some paintings from the Channing. Kate had dumped Keller six months before she'd ever even seen Neal, but that didn't deter Keller from forming an unusually strong dislike towards him.
It didn't matter at the end…Kate was dead.
Neal closed his eyes and tried to remember her smile, the fruity smell of her hair, her gorgeous blue eyes, and her wonderful laugh. She had been a friend. His girlfriend, the first girl he'd ever liked. One of the only persons in his life he'd ever cared about. One of the only ones who'd cared about him. Mozzie had explained it in a letter, and Neal still couldn't believe that he would never see her again. Adler's men had killed her after they had messed up their last job. He was caught and she was dead. Mozzie was too good to get caught by either the suits or Adler, so Kate had paid the price for their failure.
He tossed around in his bed and turned to face the wall. It was night and hardly any light made its way through the window above him.
I didn't even say goodbye. She didn't say goodbye. She just...left…
He turned around and wrapped the blanket tighter around his shoulders.
Tomorrow. I'll get the hell away from here tomorrow and everything will be okay.
He felt tired. He closed his eyes and tried to rest, even though he knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep.
* * * *
Neal sat down for a few seconds, trying to compose himself. It was visiting hours during Saturday. It was the busiest time of the week and little attention was put to the ones that stayed in their cells. He grabbed the bag with the clothes from inside the toilet and dried it off with a towel. He opened it and took out the security card, but left the clothes. He pulled down the zipper from the orange jumpsuit and put the bag with the clothes inside. He had a bit of trouble zipping it back up, but he managed it. Neal thought he probably looked like a chubby kid in clothes way too tight. He sat back down in his bed and waited.
He tapped his foot nervously, his breathing getting faster again, until he heard his cell door click open. Neal looked carefully outside to see if anyone had noticed a door opening but there wasn't anyone near his cell, and if some of his neighbors heard, they didn't seem to care. He got out and walked as normally as he could down the corridor. The last thing he needed was someone to spot him running in the surveillance cameras. He hid behind a turn in the next passageway and waited for a CO to pass with a small kid that looked scared out of his wits. He walked in the opposite direction and made his way to the laundry room.
He had the security access card in his hand. He held it up and swapped it through. The little flashing light turned green and he quickly stepped inside. It was a big place but there was no one inside at the moment. They had an hour for lunch break. He followed a small clearing between the washing machines all the way to another door. He swapped the card again and went through. The food company's truck was parked a few feet away, as promised. He looked both ways, walked over, opened the back door to the truck, got inside, and closed it behind him. It was big and he made his way to the back. There was a small space behind some boxes. He took out the bag of clothes and changed. He pushed his hair back and put the cap on.
Neal sat down to wait, and ten minutes later he heard muffled voices from outside, then some doors slamming and the truck being started. He felt it move and smiled.
Thanks Mozz.
He was on his way to freedom at last.
* * * *
Neal had always liked New York City. It was a wonderful place for someone that didn't want to be found. Neal had made his way out of the food truck when it stopped at a red light after 15 minutes of pulling away from Crossroads. He made his way to a nearby park and sat down in a bench that was in a quiet area. Mozzie hadn't really specified what he should do or how they would get in touch after his escape.
Neal did a mental inventory of everything he had and what he should do. The officers in Crossroads probably wouldn't notice that he was gone until they went through the rounds at dinner time. Neal smiled at the thought. They would go inside his cell and find a perfectly good imitation of a body in his bed, made out of a pillow and books beneath his blanket. They would probably sound the alarm then, but he still had a good two hour head start before he would really have to worry about it.
His clothes made him look like any other teenager on the streets. Although he usually preferred something a bit classier, like a button down dress shirt, some nice pants, and his fedora, he admitted that his current look was for the best. At least the clothes were clean.
Apart from his attire, he didn't have anything else. Mozzie had sent him some money with the package but it had never reached him. Neal was pretty sure that someone had picked it out before the bag actually got to him. Not that money was really an issue for him. He'd been picking pockets and conning his way every day since he was eleven. No, money definitely wasn't the problem. The problem was that he was feeling sub par, to say the least. He'd been in jail for almost a month. He'd been beaten almost every day, and he hadn't eaten a decent meal in ages. He was hungry. After fifteen minutes of trying to come up with a plan, that's the only thing he could actually come up with: he was so hungry.
Neal stood up with as much confidence as possible, and started walking in the direction where he knew there would be some easy targets. After some time walking around, he spotted his mark. He walked briskly towards the man, and ten seconds later he had his wallet in his own pocket. Neal took cover behind a tree and went through the wallet. He came up with forty dollars in cash. He wasn't stupid enough to try to use any of the credit cards. He put the money in his back pocket and walked over towards two police officers eating lunch in a bench. He dropped the wallet beside a trash can where they couldn't miss it and walked away. He needed the money, but the guy obviously needed his ID and cards back. He was sure that the police men would pick it up.
After crossing the street to a nearby slightly disgusting looking pizza place, he made his way back to his original bench and sat down to attack two pieces of pizza and an orange soda. It was Saturday, which meant that Mozzie was most likely at his place in Sunday. Neal decided that he would go to his flat and see if he could find him there. If that didn't work out, then he'd just have to look at the rest of his places. One place for every day of the week. They weren't too far apart, but it would take time. At least he had a plan now.
Neal digged into his second piece of pizza with gusto. Greasy pizza had never tasted better.
* * * *
To say he was disappointed was an understatement. It was late, he was tired, and hungry again. To make matters worse, he'd been halfway around New York City by now and he hadn't found traces of Mozzie anywhere. Every single place was empty. His last hope was Monday. Unfortunately, that particular flat was located dangerously close to Crossroads. Well, not close enough to worry, but it was also in Brooklyn. By now, they had found out he escaped. They had probably alerted the police. He had to be careful.
Neal made his way towards a small shop in the corner of a street and bought a sandwich and a bottle of water. He made his way out of the light and tried to walk calmly down the street when he saw a police car drive by slowly. He fought the sudden impulse to run as fast as possible and his heart started pounding inside his rib cage. The best disguise was achieved by being a nobody, blending in with the environment. Mozzie had taught him that. He released a shaky breath when the car turned a corner up ahead and he was alone in the street once more.
This wasn't good. He needed somewhere out of the way to eat his food and then make his way to Mozzie's before someone spotted a kid all alone out in the middle of a chilly night and started asking questions. The shortest route to Mozzie's place involved going through some quiet residential streets.
Neal was looking around when he spotted the perfect place down some stairs of an abandoned looking house. He made his way down and sat at the bottom, in front of a black door. The place was dirty, but he couldn't bring himself to care. After making sure that he couldn't be spotted from the street, he sat down in the last concrete stair. He was about to take a bite of his sandwich when he heard a voice dangerously close to him. He was startled, thinking he'd been made out, but after a second of near panic, he realized that the voice wasn't talking to him.
"Hand it over lady. I don't want to tell you again." Neal made his way slowly up the stairs crouching low so he could observe what was going on in the street.
"Okay, just let me go first. I'll give you my purse, just let my arm go so I can give it to you."
The other voice sounded remarkably collected. Neal went up another step and saw that the first voice belonged to a large man. He had a mask on and he was grabbing a woman by her right forearm. Neal couldn't make out much of her face, but by the sound of her voice he could tell that she wasn't too old.
"This is the last time lady. Give me your purse or you'll get hurt." He sounded angry now, and Neal realized that he had been slurring his words. He was most likely drunk, but that only made him more dangerous. He watched with increasing horror as the man grabbed the woman closer and reached with his other hand for something in his pocket. He was taking it out and Neal saw a flash of silver. He was mugging this woman, and now he had a gun. He was going to kill her.
Neal's breathing was getting dangerously defective by now. His heart was pounding rapidly and he could feel the rhythm pounding in his head. This wasn't happening…
Gun. Neal, gun. Run. Now.
Without giving it a second thought, he quickly climbed the last of the stairs and pulled the man's left foot as hard as he could. The man was obviously caught off guard and he released the woman immediately while he stumbled back. Neal turned around and pushed him down the stairs. The man never saw it coming, and he disappeared stumbling down all the way to the last step, where Neal had been hiding a moment before.
Not wasting any time, Neal turned around, caught the woman's scared eyes, and made his way over to grab her hand.
"Come on", he said quickly, "I don't think he'll stay down there for long." He pulled on her hand and turned around to run towards safety. She hesitated for a second and then she started running with him. They made it down two blocks until they stopped and rested panting against a wall in front of a lamp post.
"I think we lost him." The woman was talking to him. He turned his head to look at her. She was pretty, beautiful actually. Her face was flushed. She had long brown wavy hair and she was dressed impeccably, but the thing that caught his attention was her bright blue eyes. His head was still pounding and he put a hand up to his head to try to hold it still.
"Hey, are you okay?" She asked, concern evident in her voice.
Neal turned to look at her again and felt himself starting to calm down a bit. Good. The last thing he needed was to pass out in front of a complete stranger. A perfectly nice looking stranger, but a stranger none the less.
"Yeah." He tried to sound as normal as possible. "Yeah, I'm okay, just out of air from running," he said quickly.
She turned away from him and looked down the street where they had come up running. She looked concerned, scared even.
"Don't worry he won't come looking for us," Neal said after observing her for a moment.
"How do you know?"
"He just won't. He sounded drunk, and you never go after someone who hasn't even seen you, that's just asking for more trouble."
The woman turned back to look at the strange person that had helped her. Now that they were beneath a bright light she looked a bit surprised at his appearance. He looked young, fourteen/fifteen years old. His hair looked long under his cap and his clothes were what any normal teenager would wear: jeans, t-shirt, a hoodie, and tennis shoes. Something felt wrong though. What was a kid doing out alone in the middle of the night? She looked at him as he straightened up and found herself smiling at the most wonderful blue eyes she'd ever seen.
"Thank you, by the way," she said coming over to stand in front of him. "I think you just saved my life."
The kid looked at her strangely, shook his head a little bit, and when she met his eyes again he flashed her a dazzling smile. "You're welcome. You should really be more careful."
His voice was soft, soothing. She checked him over again and noticed that despite his wonderful smile, he looked tired. He looked exhausted to say the truth. He was holding something in his hand and he turned it over and walked past her to throw it in the trash can. She saw that it was a rather pathetic looking sandwich. She immediately realized that he was too thin, his clothes were a bit loose. He was walking slowly too, as if he was sore.
"Did you hurt yourself?" she asked.
"No, I'm just tired. It's late and I'll probably be grounded for a month after I get home at this hour." Neal lied smoothly. The woman was looking too closely at him. Maybe she'd heard something about an escaped kid from Juvie. He had to get going before something else happened.
It didn't look like she believed him. "Do you have some place to go? Somewhere to stay for the night?"
"Yeah, I was on my way home from a party. My house is a bit far away from here tough, so I guess I'll just get going." Neal started walking when he felt a hand on his arm. He turned back and shook it off.
"Look, I'm not trying to get you in trouble or anything, but it's late. You just saved my life. You look tired and I live two blocks away from here." She nodded back to the direction they'd come from. "I had to park my car a block away and was walking to my house when that man tried to mug me." She paused for a moment. "What I'm trying to say is that you could come over to get cleaned up and I'll call you a cab or you could stay in my house for the night if you need somewhere to stay."
Neal was startled. The woman hardly knew him and she was inviting him to stay over. He could be a criminal… okay, yes, he was a criminal, but he could be the not so nice criminal type. Her offer sounded like a trap.
She saw him hesitating and asked another question, "Are you hungry? I've got some left overs back at my place."
Neal hesitated. He was tired. He felt sore. He was so hungry that his stomach was actually growling again, and to tell the truth, he didn't have any place to go to. His search for Mozzie had been futile and he was sure that the last place was empty as well. This woman was offering a free dinner and bed for the night. It sounded like a pretty good deal right then.
Forgetting to keep up his story about parents and a home he didn't have, he nodded once towards the strange woman in front of him. She smiled and started walking. Neal caught up with her quickly and walked quietly beside her until they reached a pleasant looking house about half a block were everything had happened earlier. She stopped at the door and looked at him expectantly, but didn't say a word.
"My name is Nick Halden, by the way," he offered, following her up the stairs.
She opened the door and turned back to invite him in.
"It's a pleasure Nick. I'm Elizabeth."
* * * *
Peter Burke walked towards his house. It was close to midnight and he was a bit surprised when he saw light coming from the window, but his uneasiness was quickly replaced by delight. He remembered that El was supposed to be working late that night, and she had probably just arrived home. Good. He was starving and could use a quiet conversation and a snack with his wife.
When he got the call a few hours ago, he couldn't believe it. Caffrey had actually escaped Juvie! No one had seen him leave, and it wasn't until later when they went over the security tapes, that they realized he had just walked out and no one had noticed. He'd been busy for the last 10 hours trying to find him, but the only thing they found was a discarded orange jumpsuit inside the food service truck. He'd decided to go home about half an hour ago, thinking about a warm bed and some food. One thing was certain, Caffrey wouldn't be easy to find. He obviously had some practice in the disappearing act area.
"Honey, I'm home" he called out when he stepped inside and started taking his coat off.
"Hi hon. I'm in the kitchen." He heard her shout back and saw Satchmo coming towards him with his tail wagging.
"Hey boy, what are you looking so pleased about?" he said softly as he rubbed behind the lab's ears.
Peter walked towards the kitchen and spotted Elizabeth in the sink rinsing some plates. He put his arms around her waist from behind and kissed her lightly in the neck.
"Mmm…" he hummed as he closed his eyes for a moment. El set down the plate she was holding and turned to give him a kiss.
"I missed you El." Peter murmured.
"I missed you too, hon. Long day? You look exhausted."
"Caffrey escaped today. You know, the kid I told you about the other day? He slipped out of Juvie and I've been trying to help them find him." Peter released her and turned to open the fridge to get some leftovers. He was starving. He put them in a plate and into the microwave.
"Well, he can't have gone too far. He'll turn up sooner or later Peter."
"I just hope he doesn't turn up dead in a ditch somewhere." He grabbed a fork and sat down to eat. "How did your thing go tonight? Anything exciting happening in the world of event planning?"
"The party was quite a success actually. I got a few new contacts as well." She sat down beside him and fidgeted nervously with a coffee mug in her hand.
"El, is something wrong?" Peter knew El wasn't one prone to nervousness and she always told him when something wasn't all right.
"Actually Peter, something did happen," she started carefully, "someone tried to mug me tonight when I was walking from the car." Peter dropped his fork immediately and grabbed her hand.
"Are you okay? Did you call the police? Why didn't you call me?" He asked rapidly. Suddenly the warmth he had felt during the last minutes evaporated, a feeling of helplessness and concern taking its place.
"No Peter. Don't worry, nothing even happened." Elizabeth tried to sound reassuring. "A man grabbed my arm and told me to give him my purse. I told him that he had to let me go and I'd give him the purse. He was getting fidgety when suddenly he let go. I turned around and saw that a someone had yanked him towards some stairs and pushed him. He grabbed my hand and we ran away."
"So you're okay? The man didn't follow you?" Peter asked.
"I'm fine. We waited for a while and walked back towards the house, but the man was already gone." She paused for a second. "Nick saved my life, Peter."
"Nick?"
"Yeah, that's the name of the teenager that came to my rescue."
Peter finally let Elizabeth's hands down and rubbed his face with his palms. Oh, this day just keeps getting better, he thought, now my wife was almost mugged. He looked at his plate and realized he wasn't hungry anymore. He grabbed his beer and gave it a small sip, and then noticed that the table had two table settings. Two used dessert plates and two coffee mugs were still on the table. Someone else had been over for dinner.
"El, why are there two sets of plates?" he asked.
Elizabeth didn't seem surprised. Peter thought she looked like she had been expecting the question since he came home. "Well, I invited Nick over for dinner. He looked tired and hungry. He's too thin Peter, and I don't think he had another place to stay tonight," she said getting up to finish cleaning. "I asked him to stay for the night and he said yes."
"You asked a complete stranger to dinner and to stay the night in our home?" Peter asked, his voice rising angrily. "Where is he now?"
Elizabeth was about to speak when they heard the door from the bathroom upstairs close and someone coming down the stairs. "He went to the bathroom."
Satchmo got up and turned towards the stairs happily, obviously going to greet the mysterious stranger in the stairs. Peter got up quickly and went after him.
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