White Collar - "Desperate Deed" (4/6)
Title: Desperate Deed
Chapter: 4 of 6
Author: TeeJay
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG-13 for language and violence
Full header in chapter 1
Chapter 4
- This Is How It Goes -
The next morning brought only good news, given the circumstances. Elizabeth was doing better and Peter was starting to see the old El shimmering through the fragile, sore exterior and the angry, purple bruise on her cheekbone. The doctors were hopeful she could be released in a day or two. Both Peter and El were tremendously relieved.
In the ICU, he was informed that Neal had regained consciousness in the morning, if only briefly. Peter had been warned not to expect too much as he was led into Neal's room. The antibiotics, pain medication and sedatives being delivered into his blood stream were potent and effectively knocked anyone out, save for brief moments of semi-consciousness.
Neal's eyelids fluttered open a few minutes into Peter's stay, accompanied by a soft moan. Peter was immediately worried and lightly touched Neal's arm. "Hey, Neal. It's me, Peter."
"Peter..." Neal rasped, confusion in his eyes.
Peter wasn't sure if the reaction had been genuine recognition or just a repetition of a name.
"My back... hurts," Neal murmured, and Peter immediately went to look for a nurse.
When they came back to Neal's room, Peter stood back and watched how the nurse adjusted something by the perfusors, checking his IV and catheter. She looked at Peter as if she was annoyed that he'd interrupted her routine. "He shouldn't be in any pain," she just said and left.
Peter went back to Neal's bedside, noticing that Neal could barely keep his eyes open. "Hey, buddy. Does it still hurt?"
"Just... a little," Neal said barely above a whisper.
Peter carefully felt for Neal's arm and squeezed it a little. "Just hang in there. They're taking good care of you."
By the time Peter looked back at Neal's face, he had drifted off again.
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The vibration of his cell phone in his pocket roused Peter from his slumber. A quick look at his watch told him he must have dozed off in the chair next to Elizabeth's bed.
"Hello?" he groggily picked up the call.
"Agent Burke? This is Angela Taylor from New York Methodist Hospital ICU."
Something clamped tight in Peter's stomach. Did something happen to Neal?
"Yes, this is Agent Burke," he confirmed.
She continued, "Sir, you said to call you if something happened to Mr. Caffrey, and I'm afraid we're having a bit of a situation down here."
His throat was suddenly dry. "What kind of a situation?"
"There's someone here from the Marshal's office, and he handcuffed Mr. Caffrey to his bed. Mr. Caffrey has been very agitated, and he's already ripped out his IV twice. I'm not sure he's realizing what's going on, but he did mention your name."
"Shit," Peter hissed under his breath. "Can you hold the Marshals until I'm there? I'm on my way."
"I will try, sir."
"Thank you," he said, "I'll be right there."
Hurrying into the ICU, Peter recognized the US Marshal's face. He vaguely recalled that the guy's name was Hansen, one of Deckard's men who had been involved in Neal's parole deal before. Hansen was standing in front of Neal's room, positively glaring at the nurse inside who was fussing about with Neal's IV. Peter could see that both of Neal's wrists were handcuffed to the bed's railing.
Peter walked straight up to the guy. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" he said without preamble.
"And good morning to you too, Agent Burke."
"Cut the crap, Hansen. Give me one good reason why this is necessary."
"Come on, Burke. You know it's procedure. Caffrey is out of his anklet, and you know how the rules for the restraint of unsupervised felons work."
"These rules apply to felons who are considered a flight risk. Can't you see that Caffrey's in no shape to flee, let alone get out of this bed?"
"Well, maybe that's what he'd like to make you believe."
Peter wanted to punch the guy in the face. He fought hard to keep his breathing under control. "No. You're not doing this. I'm not having him handcuffed to the bed. Either you get him a new anklet in the next half hour or I'm filing an official complaint that you've been harassing a federal employee."
"Federal employee my ass," Hansen muttered, and Peter whirled around, pinning him to the wall with both his hands on Hansen's biceps.
"Listen to me very carefully, Hansen. Mr. Caffrey here risked his life to stop a violent criminal from getting away from the scene. He shot himself to take down the perp, which nearly killed both of them. That is more than any of you clowns would have done. And I swear to God, if you don't uncuff him within the next two minutes, I am going to shred your ass faster than you can say OPR." He pinned Hansen to the wall a little more for good measure before he released his grip on him.
Hansen looked disgusted, but did as Peter told him. Peter watched through the window as he removed the handcuffs from Neal's wrists, pocketing them as he exited the room. In passing, he turned to Peter, "If Caffrey runs, this'll be on you."
Peter didn't grace him with a response, knowing full well that Neal would not, could not run in his current state.
Once he had calmed down a little, Peter went to the nurse's station, making sure it wouldn't be an issue to have a new anklet put on Neal, apprising them of the fact that someone from the Marshal's office might be coming back to do just that. He was told it wasn't ideal but that it was preferable to having Neal chained to the bed with handcuffs.
Peter stopped by Neal's room afterwards, giving him a cautious once-over. "Neal?" he asked, and Neal opened his eyes.
"They cuffed me," he said groggily.
"I know. I had them take the cuffs off again. Neal, I'm sorry. I didn't know they were going to restrain you."
"It's okay," he mumbled.
"No, it's very much not okay. They're going to put a new anklet on you later. Do you understand?"
Neal didn't react, and Peter repeated, "Neal, do you understand what I'm saying? They're going to put a new anklet on, and I want you to know that's been cleared with me."
"Anklet. Got it."
Peter wasn't so sure he had, but he realized it was the best he would get for now. He gently patted Neal's leg before he left. "I'll be back later, okay?"
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After a quick stop by Elizabeth's hospital room, Peter had to go to the Bureau to handle some of the aftermath of the incident the day before.
Benson had made it through the surgery and was also in the ICU, a few rooms down from where Neal was. The prognosis was a little more shaky for Benson, the shot had shredded his lung artery, but it was said he wasn't in critical condition anymore. Peter consider this good news because things would have gotten a lot more complicated if Benson had not survived the shot.
It was well into the afternoon by the time all the urgent business in the office was squared away, Hughes gave him PTO to take care of his wife. Peter took the laptop and put it in the trunk, just in case he needed to work from home.
Back in the hospital, Peter first went to see Neal again, suspecting Elizabeth would want an update. He hadn't told her about the incident with Hansen that morning, and he wasn't intent on burdening her unnecessarily right now.
Neal was sleeping when Peter got to his room and he didn't want to wake him. He carefully lifted the sheets at the foot of the bed, and sure enough, the black plastic device encasing his ankle had been put in place-the same model he'd been wearing before.
The sympathetic nurse that had helped him the first time he was there was on the afternoon shift, and Peter asked her how Neal was doing. She gave him an encouraging smile and explained that Neal was doing as well as could be expected. If his progress kept up its pace, they were thinking about transferring him to the regular ward in a day or two.
"He's one of our more docile patients," she told Peter, who surmised she hadn't heard about what had transpired earlier that day. "You know, you sometimes get the ones we call 'thrashers', those that resist a lot, and you get the 'complainers'. But Mr. Caffrey has been very agreeable. Everyone loves him."
Peter couldn't hide a small smirk. "You should wait until he's back on his game."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, he can be quite the charmer."
She shrugged, almost disappointedly. "Unfortunately, we don't usually see our patients when they're back on their game. The ICU's kind of a fast moving place. You family?"
"No, I'm... I'm his partner." After a beat, so that she wouldn't get the wrong idea, he added, "I mean, at work."
"NYPD?"
"FBI."
"Oh. Hey, uhm, can I ask you something?"
"Sure," Peter said.
"I noticed he's wearing some kind of electronic anklet. What's with the deal with that?"
"It's, uh... It's kind of complicated. And I'm sure he'll hate me for telling you all this, but he's out on a work release, helping the FBI solve White Collar cases for the remainder of his sentence."
"So he's a criminal?"
"Technically, yes."
"What was he convicted for?" she asked.
"Bond forgery."
She took a long look at Neal. "If you don't mind me saying this, he doesn't look like a criminal."
Peter pursed his lips in amusement. "Yeah, he's got that going for him. And that's part of why it took me three years to arrest him."
"You arrested him?" she gaped at Peter.
"Yeah. Twice. He was pretty docile then too."
"Hang on, twice?"
"It's... kind of a long story."
"Sounds like it."
Peter turned and pointed at the door. "I, uhm, I gotta go, see my wife. Can you tell him I was here when he wakes up?"
"Yes, of course," she acknowledged before Peter left.
Arriving back in Elizabeth's room, she looked even more like her usual self than she had that morning, and Peter allowed himself a silent sigh of relief.
A mug of tea stood on the bedside table and she smiled at him from her bed. Considering she had been pretty out of it the day before, it was actually quite amazing how alert she seemed today.
"How'd things go at the office?" she inquired.
"Okay, I guess. The team is on top of things, so Hughes told me to take some time."
She looked at him inquiringly. "Honey, you still owe me the whole story. All I know is that Neal and Benson were shot in front of the building. What happened out there? Did Neal accidentally get in the line of fire?"
"No, it wasn't quite like that," he said. He knew he'd have to tell her eventually, and he wasn't sure how she would take it. He knew she'd feel guilty, she'd blame herself for what Neal had done.
"Peter, what happened?" she urged him. "What are you not telling me?"
"El," he sighed, "Neal, he... He shot himself."
Her eyes grew wider. "He what?"
"I mean, not like suicide. It was-" He scrubbed a weary hand over his face. "From what we've been able to piece together, Benson first shot you, then took Neal hostage. He dragged Neal to the door, used him as a human shield. He was good, it was impossible to get a clear shot. Benson was getting away, and Neal, he-"
Peter's voice caught in his throat as he was reliving the incident. "I don't know what he was thinking. Maybe he thought you were dying, maybe something in his brain just flipped. He must have seen no other way to stop Benson. I'm not even really sure how anymore, but Neal, he... grabbed hold of Benson's hand with the gun and shot himself through the stomach, taking Benson down with him."
The shock at the news was evident on her face, her blue eyes a notch wider. One hand was clasped over her mouth. "No," she said in a hollow whisper, her eyes clouded over by a sheen of moisture. "Why would he do that?"
Peter shook his head. "I don't know."
"I wanna see him," she said, sudden resolution in her voice.
"El, you're in no shape-"
"I wanna see him," she repeated, her voice determined. "The doctors said I need to walk around more to get back on my feet. I don't see why I can't walk to the ICU."
"Okay, fine," Peter finally gave in, knowing that once his wife had her mind set on something, it was nearly impossible to persuade her otherwise. Ten minutes later, Peter found him and El taking the elevator to the ICU.
He had to help her into the gown and gloves, and almost told her this was a bad idea when her grimaces of pain at moving around so much turned into sucked in hisses of breath. However, the determined lines on her forehead and the look in her eyes told him to keep his mouth shut.
Elizabeth grew a shade paler as she stood in front of the glass window, looking at Neal's unmoving form. Her voice sounded haunted. "He looks so fragile."
Peter squeezed her hand. "Do you still want to go in?"
"Yes," she whispered.
Peter followed close behind her as they entered the room, watching vigilantly as his wife edged closer to Neal's bedside. She turned around and looked at her husband questioningly. "Is he... I- I don't want to wake him."
Peter just shrugged the smallest of shrugs. "I'm sure he'll be happy to see you," he volunteered.
"Do you think he remembers?"
"I... I'm not sure. He's kinda been in and out, I really don't know how clearly he can think right now."
Elizabeth gently touched Neal's hand. "Neal? Honey?"
He stirred ever so slightly, blinking at her in confusion at first. "El," he finally croaked.
A warm smile spread across her lips. "Yeah, it's me." She gestured to where her husband stood. "Peter's here too."
"That's... that's good."
"Yeah," she said through the smile. "That's good."
"I'm so thirsty," Neal said, lifting the hand with the pulse ox clip ever so slightly.
Peter gave her a reassuring look that said, 'I'll go get someone.'
Her gaze went over the room to see if there was a cup or a bottle anywhere in view, but the absence of any such object told her he probably wasn't allowed to ingest anything just yet. "Honey, we'll see if we can get you something to drink, okay?"
"Okay," he acknowledged, closing his eyes for a long second before he reopened them.
Peter came back a minute later with a cup full of small ice chips. "They said we could give him these."
El took the cup and held it up so Neal could see it. "Honey, you can't drink yet, but you can have these, okay?"
Neal gave a small nod, his brow creasing in discomfort as he lifted his head from the pillow. El carefully slipped an ice chip into his mouth and Neal visibly relaxed.
She squeezed his hand. "We were so worried about you, Neal."
"'S okay," he mumbled, sucking on the frozen water. "I'm okay."
Her smile was bittersweet. "Oh, sweetie, I wish you were, but you're gonna be."
Neal blinked up at her, his eyes not missing that something was off. They caught on the bruises on her face, the disposable gown and the bathrobe that shimmered through underneath. It seemed to spark a memory.
"He shot you," Neal suddenly said. "I... I thought you were-" the word caught in his throat.
"Oh Neal." She squeezed his hand a little tighter. "Yes, he shot me. I was admitted here too, but the bullet just barely hit my side." She gave a little chuckle. "Guess I'm lucky Benson is a bad shot."
"Did he... Did Benson make it?"
"Yes," Peter piped in. "He's actually right here, in the ICU. There was rather extensive internal damage from the bullet which they've managed to repair."
Neal's gaze went back to Elizabeth. "And you...? I mean, you're okay, right?"
She gave him a genuine smile. "Yeah, I'm okay. A little sore, but okay."
"You're okay," he repeated, an exhausted kind of relief in his voice. He turned his head back to a more comfortable position, letting his eyelids droop closed.
El gave his hair a last caress. "Get some rest, Neal. We'll be back to visit, I promise."
From his lack of a response, she wasn't sure he hadn't already drifted back into slumber. She gave Peter a look and they quietly left.
Back in the small changing room, Elizabeth sat down on one of the chairs after Peter had helped her out of the gown. She looked spent and Peter sat down on the chair next to her, drawing her into a gentle sideways embrace, careful not to aggravate her injured ribs. She leaned her head back into the crook of his neck and he let his hand rub over her upper arm.
"He's tough. He's going to be all right," he whispered into her hair, giving it a soft kiss.
She nodded ever so slightly, sniffling just a little bit. "How did this happen, Peter? How does an FBI consultant shoot himself to prevent a criminal from getting away with a whole armada of agents watching as he does so?"
She pushed away from his embrace. "How did you let this happen?"
He was suddenly taken aback, he had not expected this. "Let this happen? El, you weren't there. It's not like we stood by and did nothing. Benson used Neal as a human shield. We couldn't shoot, it would have- Neal would've-"
"Been shot?" she finished.
"No," he said, his voice suddenly crestfallen. He stood up from the chair, took two, three steps away from her. "No, you're not pinning this on me."
He walked over to the small window, looking outside. He leafed a weary hand through his hair, feeling his strength ebb, feeling the exhaustion catching up with him. Something in the back of his throat constricted as he felt the tears threatening to form. He swallowed, drawing in a deep breath to quell the sob that was working its way up his chest.
In a shaky voice, he said, "I watched him go down, El. I saw it all. God, I- I wish I could have stopped him. But it was too late, I was too late. Do you know what he said before he pulled the trigger? He shouted, 'Go save Elizabeth!' And I watched him go down and ran to you. I- Dammit, I should've... I-"
He caught on the words, blinking against the tears.
There was a long silence. It gave Peter time to control the unfamiliar emotions, regain some composure. It was Elizabeth's voice that broke the eerie quietness.
"Peter..." she started. "Are you... are you saying Neal shot himself to save me?"
He turned around, met her gaze. "I... Honestly, I don't know what he was thinking, but that might've been part of it."
"No," she said in a whisper, then louder, "No. I can't- I can't believe he'd- Why would he do such a thing?"
Peter sighed, the exhaustion, the lassitude tangible. "I wish I had any answers."
Her hand was clasped to her mouth as it sank in. "He almost killed himself. He- What if- What if he hadn't made it? I don't even wanna think about it. And, God, Peter, you saw it all. That must have been horrible. I can't imagine..."
"Yeah," he said, turning back to face the window, looking at the wall of an uninspiring building on the opposite side of the street. "It was horrible. And I wish so much that I could go back and undo it."
"Oh Honey," she said, as her soft footsteps padded closer, her warm hands soothingly finding his upper arms. "I know you do. But there's something we can do right now. We need to make sure Neal gets whatever he needs."
Peter turned around, looking at his wife. "You don't know how much I love you for saying that, but we also need to make sure you get what you need. Which is your bed and lots of rest."
"I have no objections to that," she sighed. "Just please go back tomorrow and make sure Neal has what he needs, okay?"
"I'm going to go back here first thing in the morning if you want me to."
She squeezed his arms. "Thank you."
Together they made their way back up to Elizabeth's hospital room. She dozed off as soon as she had settled down. Peter lovingly drew up the sheets and tucked her in, giving her a soft kiss on the head before he settled down in the visitor's chair to keep watch for a little while longer.
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The next morning, things went very quickly when Peter got to the hospital. El had urged him to go home the night before so he could get a proper night's sleep. The truth was, without her lying next to him, he'd had a hard time falling asleep and had woken multiple times during the night.
Her stitches checked, her wound newly dressed, the doctors had given Elizabeth the go-ahead to be discharged with the instructions to follow up with her primary care physician. Peter was given a quick guide on how to redress the wound at home by one of the nurses.
She still let out a barely suppressed moan as Peter helped her into a loose-fitting shirt. All dressed and ready to go, Elizabeth asked to use the opportunity to see Neal again.
When they got to the ICU, there was commotion in Neal's room, which they found out was due to the fact that he was being transferred to the regular ward. They let El and Peter in for a minute, and they were relieved to find Neal more alert than he had been during previous visits.
"Hey buddy," Peter greeted him. "So you're getting out of here, huh?"
"Yeah, about time," Neal grumbled. "The constant beeping was really driving me crazy."
"Wait till you find out you're sharing that new room with a grumpy, snoring retiree," Peter smirked.
"Don't jinx it, Peter." The weak grin that accompanied the statement made Peter hopeful, because it was-if only barely-reminiscent of the old Neal Caffrey.
Elizabeth stepped closer to the bed and rested her hand on Neal's knee. "Glad to see you doing better."
"I could say the same thing."
"Yeah, I'm actually being discharged today."
The corners of Neal's mouth curved upwards ever so slightly. "That's great news."
"Yeah," she beamed. "Great news all around. Must be our lucky day."
Neal shifted slightly in his bed, wincing as he did so. "I wish."
Peter saw two of the nurses approaching the room, so he told Neal, "Looks like they're getting ready to move you. I heard you've been nice to the nurses. Keep that up."
"Always," Neal said, looking more exhausted now. "You'll still come and visit, right?"
"Oh, of course."
"El too?" he asked softly, hopefully.
"Yes, me too," she confirmed.
"Oh, and Neal?" Peter suddenly remembered something. "I can't reach Mozzie. I've been trying to contact him for days now. I thought he'd want to know."
"Said he had out of town business. Did you use his emergency e-mail?"
"I don't have his emergency e-mail. Just a cell phone number that's out of service."
Neal drew in a breath, scrunching up his forehead in an effort to think. "Check my cell phone," he then said, his eyes closed, sounding as if he was about to nod off.
"I need your PIN number."
"Three one seven two," Neal mumbled.
The nurses gave Peter and Elizabeth a sign that it was time to leave. As he watched them wheel Neal's bed out of the ICU, Peter suddenly realized what Neal had just given him. The PIN number to his cell phone. It either meant he trusted him with all the information that was in there, or Neal was still in enough of a drug-induced haze that he hadn't realized he'd just given Peter the key to open Neal's version of Aladdin's cave.
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continued in
Chapter 5
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