Wherever You Happen to Be Chapter 11
For Chapter 10, click HERE
Peter had called the office to say he was driving back. He didn’t say when. He’d been cooling his heels hanging around the corner where the dry cleaner was without any clear idea of what he was doing there. Someone-the woman who’d gotten into the elevator with him, presumably-had known he wanted to see Neal, and the note seemed to indicate that Neal wanted to see him, too. It was against orders, but there were apparently lots of rules being broken, so he didn’t see why he couldn’t join the club.
Finally, he walked up to the door and walked in, the bell jangling as he did so.
“Hello.” The woman behind the counter seemed nervous. “Can I…can I help you?”
“I hope so, Ms., um-?“
“Albovias,” she said.
“Ms. Albovias,” Peter said, not sure how to start. He smiled, then inspiration struck. He thought he still had one of the old pictures in here…. He dug out his wallet and his shield and showed the woman the picture of Neal. His hair was longer and he looked impossibly younger, but it was unmistakably Neal Caffrey. “Ma’am, I’m Special Agent Peter Burke with the FBI. Do you know this man?”
“Oh! Mr. Caffrey! Such a nice man. He’s here almost every day!’ she exclaimed. The badge had seemed to calm her at first, but now she looked alarmed. “He’s not-oh, no-he’s not…dead, is he? Has something happened to him?’
The word “dead” made him flinch, but he smiled at her. “Uh, no ma’am,” he said. “He’s just fine as far as I know, but I’m trying to get in touch with him. I have something that belongs to him (His life, Peter thought grimly.) and I’m trying to help him get it back. Has he-he hasn’t been in today, has he?”
“Not yet, but he’ll probably come in after work.”
Peter looked at his watch.
“I could call him,” the woman offered.
“You-that would be great,” said Peter. “Could you do that?”
“I-sure.” She smiled at him shyly. “You know, I saw you watching this place for a while. I thought you were coming to rob us.”
“Um, no ma’am,” said Peter sheepishly. “I’m one of the good guys.”
“Glad to know. I’ll call Mr. Caffrey for you.”
****
He had managed to hold it together until after five, but the only thing that made it possible was the protective hedge his friends…his friends had erected around him, keeping him busy and on-task. Neal realized that he had made friends here, and the thought humbled him. He put on his coat and started out the door.
Melissa ran to intercept him and he recoiled from her, but one look at her tear-streaked face made him stop in his tracks.
“I didn’t know, Neal,” Melissa said, her voice clogged with tears. “I just thought…I’d been asking to take you along, get you out of the office. I didn’t know he…I’m sorry. He used me, too. God, Neal-I’m sorry.”
“I can’t talk about this now,” said Neal. “I’m too…I can’t. I’ll…I’ll see you tomorrow. Here. At work.”
She stepped back and he got into the elevator.
His phone rang as he got into a cab and gave his address. It was his dry cleaner. Neal scowled. He was wearing his suit, and had just picked up his shirts. What could they want? He almost let it go to voice mail.
“This is Neal,” he said. “What’s up?” He listened, then almost dropped the phone.
****
“So, we’re going to meet with a forger who’s in jail for forging something he didn’t really forge?”
“That’s right,” said Sara, smiling at Mozzie. “You were listening.”
“Eh, not really,” said Mozzie. “Eidetic memory. But what I want to know is-how is this going to help Neal? What does this change?”
Sara took a deep breath. “Maybe nothing,” she admitted, “but you just never know. Maybe…everything.” She waved at the file Clinton had copied for her. “I’ll drive. Why don’t you put that memory to use and read up on the man we’re going to see?”
****
Neal threw money over the seat and jumped out of the cab, then came bursting into the dry cleaner’s door. The same smiling woman he always saw was there, but she was smiling more than usual.
“Ms. Albovias, I don’t know what-“
“I found um, something that I think belongs to you,” she said, gesturing Neal away from the door and into the back, away from the glass-fronted window and into the room behind the counter. Neal followed her, swallowing convulsively, but when he opened the door and stepped through, there was no one in the little room. He turned around, ready to ask, and Peter Burke stood outlined against the door-large as life and grinning to beat the band.
“Hello, Neal.”
“Peter..how…what…?” Neal’s inquiries were muffled as Peter pulled him into a crushing bear hug, and for a moment it was…it was heavenly to just stop, just rest and feel the solid weight of someone’s arms around him. Those arms were squeezing the breath out of him, but breathing was over-rated, wasn’t it? Neal found his own arms creeping up to grip Peter’s back.
“Hey, Peter…buddy.” It was all he could manage. His throat was tight and he felt a little light-headed.
Peter stepped back but didn’t release him, warm hands gripping his head, his shoulder. “Neal, oh, Neal-how are you holding up? You don’t know how we’ve missed you.”
“I might,” Neal said, and grinned. He started to take a step forward and almost stumbled, but Peter caught him and pounded him on the back again. It occurred to Neal that he should be embarrassed by being so overwhelmed, but he couldn’t care about that right now, not when Peter was here, not when Peter had come to get him and take him home.
At last, they pulled away, grinning at each other for the sheer joy of being together.
“So-you okay? How are you? You look-is that the same suit you left in?” asked Peter.
Neal looked down and grimaced, flipping open his coat. “Yep-the one and only. It’s either that or wear the thing Kramer bought me.”
“Explains why she thought I’d find you at your dry cleaners,” Peter said. “The tie is new.”
Neal grimaced. “New to me. I found a thrift store in my radius. Wait-she? She who?” He thought about Melissa.
Peter looked sober. “I guess you heard I came by today.”
“Yeah.” Just thinking about it, Neal’s jaw clenched tight and his eyes darkened dangerously.
Peter looked at him, not sure how to interpret what he was seeing.
“Kramer said you were on assignment. I assumed-”
“Assignment! That’s a laugh,” Neal said bitterly. “They bribed me with a trip to the Hirshhorn Museum, but all I did was hold Melissa’s…Agent Matthews’ purse. She didn’t need me-it was just a ruse to get me out of the office.”
“Out of the office? Why didn’t he just send you out to-?”
“I haven’t been out of the office on work since I got here!” Neal exploded. There was a tap at the door, and they looked at each other in surprise.
“Mr. Caffrey? Agent Burke? There’s a gentleman across the street who’s been watching the door since just after Mr. Caffrey arrived. I think he’s coming over here….”
“Quick, Peter-hide! Get-I don’t know-get into the closet here, no-wait-get into this cabinet.”
“Neal-I don’t think I’m going to fit.”
“Do it!” Neal commanded. He ran into the back part of the store, where rows and rows of neat hanging clothes were encased in clear plastic bags. He ruffled through them hurriedly, finally choosing one, then grabbed his surprised drycleaner’s wife by the arm and whispered frantically in her ear. She nodded, surprised, then her eyes went wide.
They emerged out of the back of the store together.
“It’s lovely, Ms. Albovias, and it looks like a good fit. It was really great of you to think of me.”
“Well,” she said, “It’s our policy that if clothes are left here more than 30 days without special arrangements being made, then we sell-oh! Oh, hello.” She stepped briskly behind the counter with an apologetic look at Neal, and Neal looked at the newcomer. He had “law enforcement” written all over him, but what branch Neal didn’t know. The man started upon seeing Caffrey and seemed to have trouble figuring out what to say or do.
“You-that is, your store cleans suits?”
“Yes sir,” said Ms. Albovias dryly, pointing up at the neon sign that said “Dry-cleaning.” “We clean suits, shirts, ties. What can I help you with?”
The question seemed to startle the man, and he darted a quick, furtive look at Neal. Neal smiled at him. Whatever arm of law enforcement was, it obviously didn’t include undercover work, and whoever he was, he was surely in Kramer’s employ.
“Um, nothing today. But, er, maybe next time.”
“Well, I see you around here all the time, don’t I?” said Ms. Albovias, and the man visibly started. “So just drop on in the next time you’re in the neighborhood.”
“I-thank you. I will.” The man fled the store.
When they were sure he was gone, Neal turned and grinned at his partner in crime, then reached over and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you. You deserve an Oscar.”
“Worth it to see the look on his face. Actually, I’m just glad to know who he is. He’s been casing the joint for, oh, about a month.”
Neal looked toward the crack in the door, where he could see Peter but Peter couldn’t be seen from the street. “About the time I arrived.”
“Yes-about the time you first came in, Neal. I thought he was part of the…” She looked at Peter. “Um, you know-the guys who come and try to shake us down.”
“She thought I was one of them,” Peter said.
“Big, Bad Burke,” Neal said, and grinned. He handed the suit back to Ms. Albovias. “Thanks for the quick thinking.”
“Not a problem,” she said, then, “Neal, we really do have some things that have been left longer than 30 days-some of them have been here almost a year. Next time you’re in, we’ll look at them, okay?
Peter smiled. Wherever he went, Neal seemed to find benefactors. Realizing that, and realizing that Neal still wanted to come home, still recognized someplace as home made him aware of the weight of responsibility sitting on his shoulders. He could not mess this up now-he could not.
“Neal, he’ll probably go back and wait for you at the apartment. It’s not safe for me to go there. If Kramer finds out-“
“Forget Kramer,” said Neal, smiling. “Just point me toward the car and we’ll go. There’s nothing I care about in my apartment-I can go like I am.”
Peter stared at him, and his startled expression told Neal the whole story. The younger man’s face fell, his shoulders slumped.
“You…you didn’t come to take me back, did you?”
“Neal, I-no, but I’m working on it. I was up here on business, and I wanted to see you. Hell, I’ve been worried to death about you-we all are-but I can’t…I didn’t come to take you back.”
Neal swallowed the bitterness in his throat. “But, but…can’t we? Can’t we clear it with Bruce, can’t we-I don’t know-just go?”
Peter said nothing, and Neal swore and looked away.
“Just a little bit longer, okay Neal? We’re working on it-we’re all working on it, but it’s got to go through proper channels.”
“Don’t talk to me about…Peter. Don’t make me go back. I…please.”
Peter almost wished Kramer’s goon had found him and they had had an old-fashioned smack-down right there on the spot. Anything would have been preferable to facing Neal’s disappointment. Neal had never even asked not to go back to prison. It must be pretty bad for Neal to ask now.
But before Peter could respond, Neal had his conman face back on, the easy-going, laissez-faire expression that could adapt, could survive almost anything.
“Neal….”
“No…it’s fine. I…I’m fine, Peter. The work is…is interesting, you know. And I’m doing okay. Some of the folks who knew what happened…they were nice about it.”
“Good. Look, I-“
“Oh, hey-wait! You said ‘she.’ She who? Who slipped you the note?”
“A very nice-looking woman with sort of ginger hair in braids.” He illustrated, holding his two fists to the sides of his head. “Very nice suit.”
“Very nice legs?”
“Very.”
Neal looked surprised. “That’s Chandra,” he said. “The Admin-she who must be obeyed.”
Peter smiled. “I guess I did the right thing by coming, then.”
But Neal had already distanced himself a little. Peter saw it, felt it like a punch in the gut, but there was no sense railing against what was. They just had to find a way to fix it.
“I guess so,” said Neal, and smiled bleakly. He looked at Peter, mimed writing something, and Peter pulled out his notebook and pen. Looking over his shoulder, Neal wrote down his address, the grocery story he frequented, the address where they were, then handed the little notebook over. “There, now you’ll know where I am, wherever I happen to be.”
“You can always contact him here,” said Ms. Albovias. She smiled at them. “I don’t have to know what’s going on-I just want to help.”
They smiled and murmured thanks.
“I…I guess I better be going. Tell Mozzie-is Mozzie okay? Is June? How’s Sara? Tell El I miss her.” He stopped. This was ridiculous. He had walked away from more lives than anyone he knew. Why was this so hard? Why had it been so hard?
Because this one’s real, his brain prompted, and Neal knew it for truth.
For Chapter 12, click HERE
Peter had called the office to say he was driving back. He didn’t say when. He’d been cooling his heels hanging around the corner where the dry cleaner was without any clear idea of what he was doing there. Someone-the woman who’d gotten into the elevator with him, presumably-had known he wanted to see Neal, and the note seemed to indicate that Neal wanted to see him, too. It was against orders, but there were apparently lots of rules being broken, so he didn’t see why he couldn’t join the club.
Finally, he walked up to the door and walked in, the bell jangling as he did so.
“Hello.” The woman behind the counter seemed nervous. “Can I…can I help you?”
“I hope so, Ms., um-?“
“Albovias,” she said.
“Ms. Albovias,” Peter said, not sure how to start. He smiled, then inspiration struck. He thought he still had one of the old pictures in here…. He dug out his wallet and his shield and showed the woman the picture of Neal. His hair was longer and he looked impossibly younger, but it was unmistakably Neal Caffrey. “Ma’am, I’m Special Agent Peter Burke with the FBI. Do you know this man?”
“Oh! Mr. Caffrey! Such a nice man. He’s here almost every day!’ she exclaimed. The badge had seemed to calm her at first, but now she looked alarmed. “He’s not-oh, no-he’s not…dead, is he? Has something happened to him?’
The word “dead” made him flinch, but he smiled at her. “Uh, no ma’am,” he said. “He’s just fine as far as I know, but I’m trying to get in touch with him. I have something that belongs to him (His life, Peter thought grimly.) and I’m trying to help him get it back. Has he-he hasn’t been in today, has he?”
“Not yet, but he’ll probably come in after work.”
Peter looked at his watch.
“I could call him,” the woman offered.
“You-that would be great,” said Peter. “Could you do that?”
“I-sure.” She smiled at him shyly. “You know, I saw you watching this place for a while. I thought you were coming to rob us.”
“Um, no ma’am,” said Peter sheepishly. “I’m one of the good guys.”
“Glad to know. I’ll call Mr. Caffrey for you.”
****
He had managed to hold it together until after five, but the only thing that made it possible was the protective hedge his friends…his friends had erected around him, keeping him busy and on-task. Neal realized that he had made friends here, and the thought humbled him. He put on his coat and started out the door.
Melissa ran to intercept him and he recoiled from her, but one look at her tear-streaked face made him stop in his tracks.
“I didn’t know, Neal,” Melissa said, her voice clogged with tears. “I just thought…I’d been asking to take you along, get you out of the office. I didn’t know he…I’m sorry. He used me, too. God, Neal-I’m sorry.”
“I can’t talk about this now,” said Neal. “I’m too…I can’t. I’ll…I’ll see you tomorrow. Here. At work.”
She stepped back and he got into the elevator.
His phone rang as he got into a cab and gave his address. It was his dry cleaner. Neal scowled. He was wearing his suit, and had just picked up his shirts. What could they want? He almost let it go to voice mail.
“This is Neal,” he said. “What’s up?” He listened, then almost dropped the phone.
****
“So, we’re going to meet with a forger who’s in jail for forging something he didn’t really forge?”
“That’s right,” said Sara, smiling at Mozzie. “You were listening.”
“Eh, not really,” said Mozzie. “Eidetic memory. But what I want to know is-how is this going to help Neal? What does this change?”
Sara took a deep breath. “Maybe nothing,” she admitted, “but you just never know. Maybe…everything.” She waved at the file Clinton had copied for her. “I’ll drive. Why don’t you put that memory to use and read up on the man we’re going to see?”
****
Neal threw money over the seat and jumped out of the cab, then came bursting into the dry cleaner’s door. The same smiling woman he always saw was there, but she was smiling more than usual.
“Ms. Albovias, I don’t know what-“
“I found um, something that I think belongs to you,” she said, gesturing Neal away from the door and into the back, away from the glass-fronted window and into the room behind the counter. Neal followed her, swallowing convulsively, but when he opened the door and stepped through, there was no one in the little room. He turned around, ready to ask, and Peter Burke stood outlined against the door-large as life and grinning to beat the band.
“Hello, Neal.”
“Peter..how…what…?” Neal’s inquiries were muffled as Peter pulled him into a crushing bear hug, and for a moment it was…it was heavenly to just stop, just rest and feel the solid weight of someone’s arms around him. Those arms were squeezing the breath out of him, but breathing was over-rated, wasn’t it? Neal found his own arms creeping up to grip Peter’s back.
“Hey, Peter…buddy.” It was all he could manage. His throat was tight and he felt a little light-headed.
Peter stepped back but didn’t release him, warm hands gripping his head, his shoulder. “Neal, oh, Neal-how are you holding up? You don’t know how we’ve missed you.”
“I might,” Neal said, and grinned. He started to take a step forward and almost stumbled, but Peter caught him and pounded him on the back again. It occurred to Neal that he should be embarrassed by being so overwhelmed, but he couldn’t care about that right now, not when Peter was here, not when Peter had come to get him and take him home.
At last, they pulled away, grinning at each other for the sheer joy of being together.
“So-you okay? How are you? You look-is that the same suit you left in?” asked Peter.
Neal looked down and grimaced, flipping open his coat. “Yep-the one and only. It’s either that or wear the thing Kramer bought me.”
“Explains why she thought I’d find you at your dry cleaners,” Peter said. “The tie is new.”
Neal grimaced. “New to me. I found a thrift store in my radius. Wait-she? She who?” He thought about Melissa.
Peter looked sober. “I guess you heard I came by today.”
“Yeah.” Just thinking about it, Neal’s jaw clenched tight and his eyes darkened dangerously.
Peter looked at him, not sure how to interpret what he was seeing.
“Kramer said you were on assignment. I assumed-”
“Assignment! That’s a laugh,” Neal said bitterly. “They bribed me with a trip to the Hirshhorn Museum, but all I did was hold Melissa’s…Agent Matthews’ purse. She didn’t need me-it was just a ruse to get me out of the office.”
“Out of the office? Why didn’t he just send you out to-?”
“I haven’t been out of the office on work since I got here!” Neal exploded. There was a tap at the door, and they looked at each other in surprise.
“Mr. Caffrey? Agent Burke? There’s a gentleman across the street who’s been watching the door since just after Mr. Caffrey arrived. I think he’s coming over here….”
“Quick, Peter-hide! Get-I don’t know-get into the closet here, no-wait-get into this cabinet.”
“Neal-I don’t think I’m going to fit.”
“Do it!” Neal commanded. He ran into the back part of the store, where rows and rows of neat hanging clothes were encased in clear plastic bags. He ruffled through them hurriedly, finally choosing one, then grabbed his surprised drycleaner’s wife by the arm and whispered frantically in her ear. She nodded, surprised, then her eyes went wide.
They emerged out of the back of the store together.
“It’s lovely, Ms. Albovias, and it looks like a good fit. It was really great of you to think of me.”
“Well,” she said, “It’s our policy that if clothes are left here more than 30 days without special arrangements being made, then we sell-oh! Oh, hello.” She stepped briskly behind the counter with an apologetic look at Neal, and Neal looked at the newcomer. He had “law enforcement” written all over him, but what branch Neal didn’t know. The man started upon seeing Caffrey and seemed to have trouble figuring out what to say or do.
“You-that is, your store cleans suits?”
“Yes sir,” said Ms. Albovias dryly, pointing up at the neon sign that said “Dry-cleaning.” “We clean suits, shirts, ties. What can I help you with?”
The question seemed to startle the man, and he darted a quick, furtive look at Neal. Neal smiled at him. Whatever arm of law enforcement was, it obviously didn’t include undercover work, and whoever he was, he was surely in Kramer’s employ.
“Um, nothing today. But, er, maybe next time.”
“Well, I see you around here all the time, don’t I?” said Ms. Albovias, and the man visibly started. “So just drop on in the next time you’re in the neighborhood.”
“I-thank you. I will.” The man fled the store.
When they were sure he was gone, Neal turned and grinned at his partner in crime, then reached over and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you. You deserve an Oscar.”
“Worth it to see the look on his face. Actually, I’m just glad to know who he is. He’s been casing the joint for, oh, about a month.”
Neal looked toward the crack in the door, where he could see Peter but Peter couldn’t be seen from the street. “About the time I arrived.”
“Yes-about the time you first came in, Neal. I thought he was part of the…” She looked at Peter. “Um, you know-the guys who come and try to shake us down.”
“She thought I was one of them,” Peter said.
“Big, Bad Burke,” Neal said, and grinned. He handed the suit back to Ms. Albovias. “Thanks for the quick thinking.”
“Not a problem,” she said, then, “Neal, we really do have some things that have been left longer than 30 days-some of them have been here almost a year. Next time you’re in, we’ll look at them, okay?
Peter smiled. Wherever he went, Neal seemed to find benefactors. Realizing that, and realizing that Neal still wanted to come home, still recognized someplace as home made him aware of the weight of responsibility sitting on his shoulders. He could not mess this up now-he could not.
“Neal, he’ll probably go back and wait for you at the apartment. It’s not safe for me to go there. If Kramer finds out-“
“Forget Kramer,” said Neal, smiling. “Just point me toward the car and we’ll go. There’s nothing I care about in my apartment-I can go like I am.”
Peter stared at him, and his startled expression told Neal the whole story. The younger man’s face fell, his shoulders slumped.
“You…you didn’t come to take me back, did you?”
“Neal, I-no, but I’m working on it. I was up here on business, and I wanted to see you. Hell, I’ve been worried to death about you-we all are-but I can’t…I didn’t come to take you back.”
Neal swallowed the bitterness in his throat. “But, but…can’t we? Can’t we clear it with Bruce, can’t we-I don’t know-just go?”
Peter said nothing, and Neal swore and looked away.
“Just a little bit longer, okay Neal? We’re working on it-we’re all working on it, but it’s got to go through proper channels.”
“Don’t talk to me about…Peter. Don’t make me go back. I…please.”
Peter almost wished Kramer’s goon had found him and they had had an old-fashioned smack-down right there on the spot. Anything would have been preferable to facing Neal’s disappointment. Neal had never even asked not to go back to prison. It must be pretty bad for Neal to ask now.
But before Peter could respond, Neal had his conman face back on, the easy-going, laissez-faire expression that could adapt, could survive almost anything.
“Neal….”
“No…it’s fine. I…I’m fine, Peter. The work is…is interesting, you know. And I’m doing okay. Some of the folks who knew what happened…they were nice about it.”
“Good. Look, I-“
“Oh, hey-wait! You said ‘she.’ She who? Who slipped you the note?”
“A very nice-looking woman with sort of ginger hair in braids.” He illustrated, holding his two fists to the sides of his head. “Very nice suit.”
“Very nice legs?”
“Very.”
Neal looked surprised. “That’s Chandra,” he said. “The Admin-she who must be obeyed.”
Peter smiled. “I guess I did the right thing by coming, then.”
But Neal had already distanced himself a little. Peter saw it, felt it like a punch in the gut, but there was no sense railing against what was. They just had to find a way to fix it.
“I guess so,” said Neal, and smiled bleakly. He looked at Peter, mimed writing something, and Peter pulled out his notebook and pen. Looking over his shoulder, Neal wrote down his address, the grocery story he frequented, the address where they were, then handed the little notebook over. “There, now you’ll know where I am, wherever I happen to be.”
“You can always contact him here,” said Ms. Albovias. She smiled at them. “I don’t have to know what’s going on-I just want to help.”
They smiled and murmured thanks.
“I…I guess I better be going. Tell Mozzie-is Mozzie okay? Is June? How’s Sara? Tell El I miss her.” He stopped. This was ridiculous. He had walked away from more lives than anyone he knew. Why was this so hard? Why had it been so hard?
Because this one’s real, his brain prompted, and Neal knew it for truth.
For Chapter 12, click HERE