15I started this story eons ago, even before season 5 started in answer to a prompt at a LJ community, but it was so long ago that I'm not sure if I'd be able to find it again. It's an experiment on two ways, first, to write a story on English instead of doing it on Spanish and translate it later and to write action scenes, that is not exactly my strongest point. It doesn't aspire at nothing else but give the readers some fun and Neal whump, as usual with me.
Fic is almost complete, so expect next chapters soon.
I Hope you enjoy
"Welcome to Organized Crimes, again." said Ruiz with a smile that was anything but welcoming.
"Always a pleasure" answered Neal with a wide smile that didn't match the one of the agent. He was not going to give him the satisfaction of showing any disappointment and, in fact, he was glad for the opportunity that working with them may give to him. If there was a place where he could find answers about the Irish mob that was behind the murder of Ellen, it was here. To his surprise, they would have to also work closely with the NYPD which had put Neal on the seventh heaven. He had worked with the police before, but on those times everybody was running: he was running away and the police was running after him, not exactly bonding moments. This time he would have plenty of chances to talk with them about Sam, James and even Ellen and gather valuable information.
Mozzie hadn't been that happy.
"What does the Suit think about this?"
"I've not asked his opinion" had bitterly answered Neal. They had had the same conversation before, several times actually and he was frankly annoyed by the way all the people around him seemed to walk on eggshells when it was about anything related to his past. "I made a promise and I'm going to keep it."
"Said the conman."
"It's different, it's Elizabeth. Even you would keep a promise for her."
"But I wouldn't have made her such a promise" Mozzie had replicated, pointing with his finger to himself. "And the Even You part was rather offensive."
"Yet she has a point" had tried to explain Neal "I've already put in danger not only Peter's career, but also his life. I can't keep asking him favors and working behind his back is not only increasingly difficult, but also… unfair. On the other hand, if it's Ruiz the one who handles me…"
"You don't have to care if he gets in trouble for whatever you do."
"You are getting the point." Neal had said with a naughty smile.
Though if Mozzie wasn't happy, Peter was about to burst of anger. Ruiz had promised him that this was nothing dangerous, no drug dealers, no arms dealers, no human traffic dealers, only a small organization dedicated to illegal gambling who has more big aspirations than common sense and that wanted to expand its contacts so it could be used as leverage to have access to bigger fishes on the future, but by then Neal would already be back on his safe hands. What Peter couldn't say Ruiz was that he was not that concerned about the operation itself (Ok, a little bit, but he wouldn't let that be so openly known) but about having to handle Neal's leash to anyone else, just now when the kid needed it as short as possible. To let Caffrey without ankle for any amount of time without his own direct supervision was more than his old heart could endure.
But if Burke had known that this operation involved the NYPD then he had surely blown an artery. Neal had assured Peter that Ruiz had forbidden him to share information about the operation and since his relationship with him had already put Peter's position on the FBI in danger, he didn't want to give the other agent any excuses, so he will go with the flow, play his cards, literally this time, and get out as soon as possible while Peter rested from his car accident doing some desk work resolving mortgage frauds. And Neal was not lying; Ruiz had actually forbade him to share information about the case with Burke, but that had been after the conman had appealed to the deepest parts of his ego, implying that doing so diminished his own authority over the CI and the operation itself. Peter had made him promise not to do anything stupid and Neal had no problem to make that promise too, even with his right hand over his heart. After all, he was Neal Caffrey, he could not always play by the book, he could be impulsive, in occasions even reckless, but he was never stupid.
"Caffrey, this is Detective Portman" Agent Ruiz did the presentations "Steve, this is the criminal consultant of the White Collar Unit that is supposed to help us here"
Of course Ruiz could not stop himself of the bitter remark at the first opportunity he had. Portman coldly shook hands with Neal, but the younger man was not surprised not to receive a friendly welcome. He was sure that Ruiz had already given the detective the poor opinion he had about him way before they met and the last reminder was more directed at Neal, to put him on his place from the beginning, than to the police officer.
"Look kid, I've got people infiltrated on this operation for almost 2 months. At first it was supposed to be something short, a small illegal poker and dice gambling basement under a bar, until we heard they plan to do business with the Russian mob" Portman started to explain "Apparently this people dream that someday they'll have a casino in Las Vegas or something like that, so we called the FBI and we are working together since then. We already have a couple of guys inside and the Bureau has better resources, we finish our operation and they get the head of the organization. Everybody wins"
"Just let me know how I can help." Neal would take every chance to be as cordial as possible and wouldn't be stopped only because of a weak hand shake; he needed Portman on his side.
"We need something that can make their eyes to spark, to raise their ambitions a bit higher so they decide the contact the Russians for once and we have heard you are good at Poker."
"Let say that if the FBI had given a better use to the money I have… invested, we could have not only a better coffee machine than the one we have, but a full Starbucks in the office.
"Great. We need to attract better players, so the bets become stronger and more money starts to flow" Said Portman with a nod.
"This is simple, Caffrey" added Ruiz "You play Poker, you win enough times to make things interesting, you lose from time to time, enough not to get killed, and we do the rest. Are we clear?"
If not by the own agenda Neal had on his mind, this could have been one of the funnier and lighter cases he had worked on since his deal with the FBI. All he had to do, as instructed, was to play Poker and befriend the locals. To be honest, he felt sorry for the Martin brothers, the owners of the bar. They were guys with more ambition than brains that did actually dream with a casino in Las Vegas. Not only they had sketched the plans of one impressive aquarium at the entrance, but they already had a name for the first white tiger they would own! Unfortunately for them, their plans were actually working; Neal help was only the last impulse they needed to take the jump to bigger leagues. But the conman had already seen things like this before and knew very well that this had no way to end well, the Russians would eat them alive, still dressed and all and while now it all sounded like promises of future support as soon as the mafia deemed them unnecessary, the brothers would surely end at the bottom of the Hudson feeding at quite different fishes than they had expected.
On the meantime, he had plenty of time to talk to the police officers, specially the older ones, those who could have known first hand to his family. He started asking about Ellen; to himself he said it was not to raise suspicion but deep inside, deeper than what he wanted to admit, it was a way of finding closure for her death. And Neal was not disappointed, with every bit of information he was able to get closer to the women who she had been before hell broke loose. Not the Ellen he had known, with a boring life, working meaningless jobs, doing everything possible to go as unnoticed as possible, but actually a brave young woman full of life, in love of her job who had gone beyond her duties to help the community, yet had been willing to leave everything behind to help his mother to raise him when she was… or better said, those times when she wasn't.
And Sam, the real Sam, was close behind; Neal would have loved to know the man in person before he died and in some ways, he reminded him of Peter, always in search of the truth and believing in the system. It didn't took a lot of investigation on his part to see that Sam and Ellen had a relationship that went beyond a sharing of trust and information, some even believed that they had been dating before Ellen went WITSEC. Neal couldn't help to imagine the both of them married, raising children that would have grown like little cousins to him if things had been different. While Caffrey doubted Ellen would have done anything that could jeopardize them on his childhood, he liked to believe that perhaps after he escaped she could have retaken some of her relationship with Sam in secret. He still remembered how she had said him to trust Sam, and for all he knew, the man never married.
It was when he began to ask about James that everything started to go south…
Agent Ruiz and some of his men had set up camp in one of the offices at the Police Station that had been handling the case. It was conveniently near the bar in question and it made easier and quicker the communication between the police officers and the FBI. Cooperation between law enforcement at its best.
So when Detective Portman showed at the door the Fed promptly invited him to sit.
"Hi Steve, any news?"
"No, not exactly, is just that… I wanted to ask you something about your Consultant."
"Is Caffrey causing any problems with the case?" Ruiz immediately stopped whatever he was doing.
"Oh no, no! He's good at what he does. It's just that… He has been doing a lot of questions around. At first it was not a problem, but lately he had been stirring things that had been sleeping for thirty years and making some people uncomfortable"
"I will talk to him"
"Joseph, hear… the guys are getting nervous and I, we…" The Officer was having problems to bring the subject on. "We need to know if the FBI is investigating us."
"What! No! Of course not!" Ruiz stood from his chair, looking ready to break some necks, or at least one specific neck.
"It's OK then, no problem" Portman had visibly relaxed.
"No, it's not OK. Let me do some research, I'll see what con Caffrey has on his agenda and I will let you know."
"Thanks, I'll appreciate it."
That night, while Detective Steve Portman was preparing to see the game a message arrived into his cell phone. "Peter Burke, Caffrey's handler, ordered a search for former Detective Samuel Phelps and a DNA test that showed that former Detective James Bennet is Neal Caffrey's father. I hope it helps. Hugs to Shirley and the girls."
It was odd. When Peter had called Ruiz on his daily check up on Caffrey, he had been told that the consultant had asked for a sick day. It gave him immediately three possible scenarios: one, Neal was sick; two, Neal was sulking for having to work with Ruiz and three, Neal was up to something. Since the ex-con had never called for a sick day in all the years they had been working together the first one didn't sound so plausible; the second one was kind of flattering, to image that his CI actually missed working with him as his handler, but skipping work was not something he was about to allow and the third… that one was too Caffrey like and deserved to be investigated. The first thing the agent did was to check Neal's anklet… so he was at home after all, at least that was something. Peter grabbed his jacket and his car keys, he was already bored to death of those old files and anything that meant an excuse to leave that stupid desk was welcomed.
As Peter arrived to Neal's apartment he was welcomed by an ex-con that could have looked better, slightly pale and with dark bags under the eyes.
"Uhmm. Hi Peter, I didn't expect to see you here."
"I heard you were sick, so I brought you something." Said the Fed, inviting himself inside and putting a bag with groceries over the kitchen counter.
"And you wanted to see if it was true." Someone was cranky, so maybe he was actually sick.
"Nah, I already figured that, thanks to your old friend Candy" Replied Peter, pouring a couple of glasses with the apple juice he had bought.
"So, were you bored at the office?"
"Cannot I be worried for my CI?"
"You were bored." Neal chuckled, which prompted a pained grimace, even when he tried to hide it.
"Then, how are you feeling?" asked Peter, casually. "Should I have brought you chicken soup or a priest?"
"Nah, tummy aches. I guess stomach flu or something. Those nachos at the bar may not have been that fresh after all. One of the job hazards."
With the Federal Agent feeling more reassured they both chatted for a few minutes about nothing special before Peter decided it was a good time to leave. Neal seemed tense and stiff and while the ex-con had been kind of distant since Peter's car accident the agent wanted to think that Neal was just tired and not feeling well, so he excused himself to go back to work. They were by the door saying good bye and sending greetings to June and Elizabeth when Peter gave Neal a pat on the back as a farewell gesture. It had been a really slight one, yet Neal hissed and almost doubled in pain. That was not his tummy, that was his chest and that was not an ache; that was definitely pain.
"Neal, what's up?" Famous Peter Burke's instincts were telling him that this was not stomach flu.
"I'm fine, I told you."
"Sure, like you've never lied to me. C'mon what's wrong?"
"I may have gotten something bad, that's all"
"Something bad as a fist? Do you think I've never seen someone react like that before?"
"Peter, leave it."
"Raise your shirt."
"Peter, please." But the verbal sparring was stressing Neal and a wave of dizziness hit him. Before he noticed Peter had gently guided him to the couch and made him sit there.
"Neal, I can ask again as a concerned friend or I can order you to obey as your handler. Your choice" The older man was not joking, he was going to see Neal's torso and his CI unwillingness to show it was doing nothing but to prove his instincts were right.
Reluctantly but resigned the ex-con proceeded to slowly raise his polo shirt. After the first hints of blue and purple spots on Neal's abdomen Peter gently helped him to asset the rest of his body without him having to strain already sore muscles and then helped the young man to put the shirt back on his place with a deep sigh and a clenched jaw. For a long moment none said anything, Neal too embarrassed and Peter too angry to speak.
"How?"
"I may have gotten too cocky, made the wrong questions and annoyed the wrong people." Neal avoided looking at Peter.
"I can already see that. It's related to the case you're working on?"
"Yes it's… related to the case"
"Jesus, Neal!" The FBI agent finally blew out his exasperation. "I knew something like this was going to happen." Peter started to pace on the room. "What did Ruiz say?"
"He doesn't know" Neal saw that Peter was about to say something, so he interrupted it before he got a chance to speak. "I made a stupid mistake, I got it, the last thing I need now is Ruiz rubbing it on my face. Besides, if we finish this and he gets the Russians there is a possibility that the guys on the bar may not end dead on a ditch. They are not bad persons; they just had made wrong decisions and hung with the wrong people. I can handle this myself."
"So now you understand what is to be worried for someone by taking bad decisions that may end with them dead?" Peter really wanted to punch someone on the gut himself. "How bad it is?"
"Just some bruising, maybe a cracked rib" If he was put to think of it, they had been very careful not to incapacitate him nor leave marks on visible spots. "I just took some painkillers and they are already kicking in. One day of good rest and I'll be ready to cowboy up tomorrow."
Peter couldn't help half a smile at the use of his own phrase, but managed to hide it and ordered in a stern voice "At least let me wrap that rib, it will make you feel a lot better."
A/N: I just learnt that in NY the Police Stations are called Precincts, I've mixed both because I'm not really sure which one use. I'll appreciate if some of the natives can enlighten a clueless writer 9,000 kms away