[fic] Kicked Out of Time, Part 1
Title: Kicked Out of Time, Part 1
Author: shingo_the_pest
Rating: PG-13
Genre and/or Pairing: Neal and Peter, may become slash
Spoilers: none
Warnings: WIP
Summary: Neal suddenly finds himself in the past, alone, and not sure what's going on. “Do I know you?” Peter asked. Neal’s smile slowly dropped.
Neal stepped up to the Burke's place, feeling relieved and safe again. He knocked on the door, and glanced up and down the sunny street.
El answered, looking curious. "Can I help you?"
Neal blinked and his smile went from apologetic for interrupting on Peter's day off to falsely blinding, his default and most defensive mode.
"Yeah, um, could I talk to Peter for a moment?"
"Oh, well sure. Here, hold on just a second. Peter, there's someone here for you at the door!"
An uncomfortable feeling tightened in Neal's stomach.
From back in the dining room, Peter yelled, "Coming!" Neal put on his best face when El disappeared and Peter came in view.
"Hi," he went back to his apologetic smile. "Sorry to interrupt lunch, but do you have a moment?"
"Sure," Peter shrugged casually "And you're mister...?"
Neal froze. He could feel the weight of the tracker around his ankle.
"...Haversham. Nathan Haversham." He wiped away his confusion with a blinding smile.
"Pleased to meet you Mr. Haversham." Peter's eyebrows furrowed, the way they usually did when he was onto something or getting a hunch. "Have we met?"
"...yes." What was wrong with Peter? Neal was tense. He had been confused and worried since he woke up, and the feeling was only getting worse. "Well not really. You see, I just moved into the apartments over there on the corner, and I've seen you around the neighborhood a few times. I just came over to check, do you have a dog?"
Peter looked surprised. "Yeah, yeah we do-"
"Oh good, I got the right house! You see, I saw a white dog running down the alley, a really big dog like yours, and I just thought I should let you know." Neal shrugged and spread his hands, the gesture full of good will and innocent social awkwardness.
But Peter seemed to smell the lie. "Thanks, but that's not us," Peter reassured. "We've got the puppy in a crate. Haven't even taken him for a walk yet. The kennel said to wait a week until he was felt secure in his new home. So that wasn't our dog. But thanks anyway."
Neal's smile dimmed in confusion, and he took a step back. "I see. Just thought I would be a good neighbor. Um, I'll go try the next house."
Peter stepped forward. "No need. There's no other white dogs on this street. You should have just called the humane's society. How did you know we had a white dog, anyway?" Peter crossed his arms.
Neal brought the disarming smile back, though he knew it wouldn't work. Not when Peter had that calculating look in his eyes, weighing Neal's steps back.
"I just saw you bring him in, that's all."
"Last Saturday?"
"Yeah, last Saturday."
"Cuz we got him on Thursday."
Neal smiled sheepishly, inwardly unnerved. It should feel safe when Peter trapped him. It didn't.
"Look, sorry about this misunderstanding." Neal turned and walked away.
"Wait." Neal obeyed. Then winced, stupid, stupid, and started walking again. Peter called after him. "At the door, you asked for me by name. How did you know?"
Neal turned around, but kept walking backwards. "Your wife said your name."
Peter followed him down the front stairs, and onto the sidewalk. "No, you said my name first. Who are you?"
"Look, I don't want to be on your bad side," Neal began.
"You already are." Peter put his hands on his hips. "Now who the hell are you?"
"Just a friendly stranger," Neal smiled.
"Alright, I'm arresting you." Peter grabbed his wrist, and pulled it behind his back.
This was not the way he wanted things to go. "Woah, woah, on what grounds? I'm on a public sidewalk, I'm leaving you alone, I haven't done anything-"
Peter pulled the other wrist behind his back, and held them both with one large hand. "Suspicious behavior. It's good enough to bring you in."
Neal groaned, and Peter tugged him towards the house, and called the bureau on this sunny Sunday morning.
---
In the interrogation room, Nathan Haversham firmly said nothing except, "I want my lawyer."
"Oh, he's coming.” Peter reassured, then stared at the young man. “On Monday.”
Nathan sighed. Peter stared him down. Nathan tapped his fingers.
The young man broke first. "Look, I don't mean any harm okay? I was just...confused. Didn’t know where I was."
Peter pursed his lips and did not look sympathetic.
"I'm not stalking you or your wife!" Nathan insisted.
"How do you know me?"
Nathan almost bit his lip. But he smoothed the worry away. Peter thought, This young man is good at controlling his expressions.
"I just do. And I'm confused that you and El don't know me."
Peter's eyes narrowed. "Don’t call her that. How do I know you?"
Nathan Haversham hesitated, then shrugged.
"Do I know you because of that strange tracker around your ankle?"
Nathan waved the subject off. "I've got nothing to say until my lawyer is here."
Peter pressed forward, leaning over the table. "Want to know why I brought you in? Because you were annoying and suspicious, and I wanted to discourage you from bothering me and my wife. I figured you’d be intimidated if you spent a few hours under arrest. But now that we see you have that tracker on you, we aren't letting you go. So, are you going to tell me what's going on?"
The young man shrugged, restless and uncomfortable. "I don't know what to say."
"The truth is always good."
Nathan leaned back in his seat, and looked helplessly. "Sorry, I'm not sure what the truth is."
Peter's eyes narrowed again, weighing the young man’s defeated body language. "Why were you at my place?"
Another shrug. "To talk to you."
"About what?"
"Just about…nothing much. It's just that today had been weird."
"What to you mean?"
"It's nothing."
"Did you want anything from me?"
"No."
Peter weighed Nathan. "What did you have to tell me?"
Nathan’s head tilted a bit to the side, considering honesty. "Nothing important."
"Okay. Why is it not important?"
"Because I am now arrested, and in the FBI custody. I've got bigger problems now."
"If you weren't in FBI custody, what would you be telling me?"
Neal's head tilted to the other side, considering dishonesty. "I don't think I would be telling you anything if I wasn't in FBI custody." He tapped the heal of the tracker against the table.
"Take your feet off the desk." Peter ordered. Nathan did.
"Let's try another angle. What triggered you to come to my house today?" Peter asked.
The young man leaned back, and stared at the wall. He seemed to be remembering something.
Peter didn't push, just waited.
"I was worried." Nathan Haversham admitted. "I tried calling, and..."
"Who did you call?" Peter asked.
"No one."
Peter did not feel frustrated. This was progress. "What was the call about?"
Now Nathan sat up straight. "I woke up in a..." Peter watched Nathan intently for honesty, and Nathan gave it. "...in a hospital. I didn't know why I was there. So I tried...calling someone for help. That didn't work. So I, uh, wandered about. Until I was on your street." Nathan looked extremely uncomfortable with the answer. It was halting, and made no sense.
But it was mostly honest, and Peter could use it.
“Until you were on my street, on my doorstep, asking about my dog.”
“Yes.”
"You tried calling me."
The young man’s eyes flickered to Peter’s, and Peter knew he had hit the nail.
"What number did you call?" He pushed paper and a pen to the young man. Nathan tapped the pen a few times, then gave in and wrote an unfamiliar phone number down.
"That's not my number."
The young man shrugged, and looked away.
Peter had been watching this young man for almost an hour now, and he couldn’t tell yet what the secret being held back was. The face was faintly familiar. And this Nathan Haversham, whoever he was, had guilelessly tried to come to him. Then had backed away with lies to cover his tracks. Why would someone come to Peter Burke, FBI Special Agent?
"Did you come to me for protection?" Peter asked.
Part 2
Notes: This is the first fic I'm posting on my new writing journal pestshingowrite . And I'm kind of thrilled. *glee!* There's so many other stories I'm sitting on, trying to finish and iron and work out, and I'm not going through the polish on this one. I'm just going to throw it out, no planning, just going by the seat of my pants!
.
Author: shingo_the_pest
Rating: PG-13
Genre and/or Pairing: Neal and Peter, may become slash
Spoilers: none
Warnings: WIP
Summary: Neal suddenly finds himself in the past, alone, and not sure what's going on. “Do I know you?” Peter asked. Neal’s smile slowly dropped.
Neal stepped up to the Burke's place, feeling relieved and safe again. He knocked on the door, and glanced up and down the sunny street.
El answered, looking curious. "Can I help you?"
Neal blinked and his smile went from apologetic for interrupting on Peter's day off to falsely blinding, his default and most defensive mode.
"Yeah, um, could I talk to Peter for a moment?"
"Oh, well sure. Here, hold on just a second. Peter, there's someone here for you at the door!"
An uncomfortable feeling tightened in Neal's stomach.
From back in the dining room, Peter yelled, "Coming!" Neal put on his best face when El disappeared and Peter came in view.
"Hi," he went back to his apologetic smile. "Sorry to interrupt lunch, but do you have a moment?"
"Sure," Peter shrugged casually "And you're mister...?"
Neal froze. He could feel the weight of the tracker around his ankle.
"...Haversham. Nathan Haversham." He wiped away his confusion with a blinding smile.
"Pleased to meet you Mr. Haversham." Peter's eyebrows furrowed, the way they usually did when he was onto something or getting a hunch. "Have we met?"
"...yes." What was wrong with Peter? Neal was tense. He had been confused and worried since he woke up, and the feeling was only getting worse. "Well not really. You see, I just moved into the apartments over there on the corner, and I've seen you around the neighborhood a few times. I just came over to check, do you have a dog?"
Peter looked surprised. "Yeah, yeah we do-"
"Oh good, I got the right house! You see, I saw a white dog running down the alley, a really big dog like yours, and I just thought I should let you know." Neal shrugged and spread his hands, the gesture full of good will and innocent social awkwardness.
But Peter seemed to smell the lie. "Thanks, but that's not us," Peter reassured. "We've got the puppy in a crate. Haven't even taken him for a walk yet. The kennel said to wait a week until he was felt secure in his new home. So that wasn't our dog. But thanks anyway."
Neal's smile dimmed in confusion, and he took a step back. "I see. Just thought I would be a good neighbor. Um, I'll go try the next house."
Peter stepped forward. "No need. There's no other white dogs on this street. You should have just called the humane's society. How did you know we had a white dog, anyway?" Peter crossed his arms.
Neal brought the disarming smile back, though he knew it wouldn't work. Not when Peter had that calculating look in his eyes, weighing Neal's steps back.
"I just saw you bring him in, that's all."
"Last Saturday?"
"Yeah, last Saturday."
"Cuz we got him on Thursday."
Neal smiled sheepishly, inwardly unnerved. It should feel safe when Peter trapped him. It didn't.
"Look, sorry about this misunderstanding." Neal turned and walked away.
"Wait." Neal obeyed. Then winced, stupid, stupid, and started walking again. Peter called after him. "At the door, you asked for me by name. How did you know?"
Neal turned around, but kept walking backwards. "Your wife said your name."
Peter followed him down the front stairs, and onto the sidewalk. "No, you said my name first. Who are you?"
"Look, I don't want to be on your bad side," Neal began.
"You already are." Peter put his hands on his hips. "Now who the hell are you?"
"Just a friendly stranger," Neal smiled.
"Alright, I'm arresting you." Peter grabbed his wrist, and pulled it behind his back.
This was not the way he wanted things to go. "Woah, woah, on what grounds? I'm on a public sidewalk, I'm leaving you alone, I haven't done anything-"
Peter pulled the other wrist behind his back, and held them both with one large hand. "Suspicious behavior. It's good enough to bring you in."
Neal groaned, and Peter tugged him towards the house, and called the bureau on this sunny Sunday morning.
---
In the interrogation room, Nathan Haversham firmly said nothing except, "I want my lawyer."
"Oh, he's coming.” Peter reassured, then stared at the young man. “On Monday.”
Nathan sighed. Peter stared him down. Nathan tapped his fingers.
The young man broke first. "Look, I don't mean any harm okay? I was just...confused. Didn’t know where I was."
Peter pursed his lips and did not look sympathetic.
"I'm not stalking you or your wife!" Nathan insisted.
"How do you know me?"
Nathan almost bit his lip. But he smoothed the worry away. Peter thought, This young man is good at controlling his expressions.
"I just do. And I'm confused that you and El don't know me."
Peter's eyes narrowed. "Don’t call her that. How do I know you?"
Nathan Haversham hesitated, then shrugged.
"Do I know you because of that strange tracker around your ankle?"
Nathan waved the subject off. "I've got nothing to say until my lawyer is here."
Peter pressed forward, leaning over the table. "Want to know why I brought you in? Because you were annoying and suspicious, and I wanted to discourage you from bothering me and my wife. I figured you’d be intimidated if you spent a few hours under arrest. But now that we see you have that tracker on you, we aren't letting you go. So, are you going to tell me what's going on?"
The young man shrugged, restless and uncomfortable. "I don't know what to say."
"The truth is always good."
Nathan leaned back in his seat, and looked helplessly. "Sorry, I'm not sure what the truth is."
Peter's eyes narrowed again, weighing the young man’s defeated body language. "Why were you at my place?"
Another shrug. "To talk to you."
"About what?"
"Just about…nothing much. It's just that today had been weird."
"What to you mean?"
"It's nothing."
"Did you want anything from me?"
"No."
Peter weighed Nathan. "What did you have to tell me?"
Nathan’s head tilted a bit to the side, considering honesty. "Nothing important."
"Okay. Why is it not important?"
"Because I am now arrested, and in the FBI custody. I've got bigger problems now."
"If you weren't in FBI custody, what would you be telling me?"
Neal's head tilted to the other side, considering dishonesty. "I don't think I would be telling you anything if I wasn't in FBI custody." He tapped the heal of the tracker against the table.
"Take your feet off the desk." Peter ordered. Nathan did.
"Let's try another angle. What triggered you to come to my house today?" Peter asked.
The young man leaned back, and stared at the wall. He seemed to be remembering something.
Peter didn't push, just waited.
"I was worried." Nathan Haversham admitted. "I tried calling, and..."
"Who did you call?" Peter asked.
"No one."
Peter did not feel frustrated. This was progress. "What was the call about?"
Now Nathan sat up straight. "I woke up in a..." Peter watched Nathan intently for honesty, and Nathan gave it. "...in a hospital. I didn't know why I was there. So I tried...calling someone for help. That didn't work. So I, uh, wandered about. Until I was on your street." Nathan looked extremely uncomfortable with the answer. It was halting, and made no sense.
But it was mostly honest, and Peter could use it.
“Until you were on my street, on my doorstep, asking about my dog.”
“Yes.”
"You tried calling me."
The young man’s eyes flickered to Peter’s, and Peter knew he had hit the nail.
"What number did you call?" He pushed paper and a pen to the young man. Nathan tapped the pen a few times, then gave in and wrote an unfamiliar phone number down.
"That's not my number."
The young man shrugged, and looked away.
Peter had been watching this young man for almost an hour now, and he couldn’t tell yet what the secret being held back was. The face was faintly familiar. And this Nathan Haversham, whoever he was, had guilelessly tried to come to him. Then had backed away with lies to cover his tracks. Why would someone come to Peter Burke, FBI Special Agent?
"Did you come to me for protection?" Peter asked.
Part 2
Notes: This is the first fic I'm posting on my new writing journal pestshingowrite . And I'm kind of thrilled. *glee!* There's so many other stories I'm sitting on, trying to finish and iron and work out, and I'm not going through the polish on this one. I'm just going to throw it out, no planning, just going by the seat of my pants!
.