White Collar Fic - Privilege - Part IV

[elrhiarhodan]

Title: Privilege
Author: elrhiarhodan
Rating: R (for language and OT3 sex, not graphic but descriptive)
Fandom: White Collar
Spoilers: 101, 113, 114
Summary: Fifteen Seconds Really Shouldn’t Make That Much Difference
Warnings/Triggers: Some legal stuff (and what else is new?)
Word Count: ~8000 (Sum of all parts)
Disclaimer: Nope, own nothing - but if I did, there would be a continuing storyline requiring either Peter or Neal (or both of them) to wear jackboots. The kind that the Queen’s Horse Guard wear.

A/N: I really wanted to find a reason why Peter Burke, so obviously brilliant – would occasionally be such a dork or so unsure of himself, particularly when it comes to interpersonal things. I thought, maybe – something from childhood, but I didn’t want to go down paths already trodden. I wanted to stay with something I know all about – sibling rivalry. I flashed on Allison Janney as Peter’s twin sister. IRL she’s a few years older than Tim DeKay, but the coloring and bone structure sort of match, and the roles she’s played are consistent with the personality of the character I’m trying to create.

This is set in the same universe as Minutes and Hours, Neal Caffrey, (Wage) Slave, and probably How Long Did You Did You Think You Could Keep This Up (Before I Found Out).   It's also the second entry on my "Five Things About Peter Burke" post.

The story takes place a year and some months after the Season 1 Finale.

Many, many thanks to the excellent beta work by the incomparable gyzym. Any mistakes are mine and mine alone.

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“Neal, you might want to remove your hand.”

Peter shivered as Neal reluctantly pulled his fingers away, making the simple act another caress. “Peter, think about this while you’re at it. She came to see you. You think Isabelle doesn’t have contacts in the FBI offices in San Francisco? She flew across the country to ask her brother for help. I think that says something about what Isabelle feels about you. Maybe she believes you are the only one who can help her?”

“Or she could just be playing mind games with me.” Peter shook his head, as if to clear out the cobwebs. “I am having a hard time wrapping my brain around why Isabelle was wearing body armor. Is she afraid she’s going to be shot at? Damn it, she gets me so wound up, I can’t think straight.”

Neal considered the question, “Maybe it was a message, a subtle clue?”

Peter looked at Neal, eyes narrowed, lips pursed, “Go on.”

“In her hypothetical, Isabelle said something about the company being a defense contractor, right? Maybe they make body armor? Maybe she’s trying to tell you what to look for?”

Peter sat back and thought about it. “Could be possible. Aero-Dyne is huge, probably one of the top five military contractors – I would be surprised if they didn’t manufacture armor. But companies that big, that well-tied – they’re all dirty, somehow.”

“Peter, I’m shocked. When did you get so cynical?”

Peter smiled sourly. “Havisham would be proud.”

He continued to gnaw at the issue, though. “What did Isabelle find that made her fly to New York, to see me? It if involves the military, why not go right to the Pentagon? I’m just not buying the whole ‘Peter, come to my rescue’ thing. My sister has very good friends in many high places. There’s something here that I’m missing.”

Neal looked at Peter, and asked “What about your Uncle Edgar?”

“What?” Peter was puzzled at Neal’s non-sequitur. “I - We don’t have an Uncle Edgar.”

“When she hugged me goodbye, Isabelle said to ask you tell me about Uncle Edgar.”

“Are you sure that’s what she said?”

“Yes, I’m positive.”

“Let me think.”

Neal watched a multitude of expressions cross Peter’s face, and felt his own frustration mount. If this was a Burke family thing, it was heading into territory that Neal couldn’t cross. All of a sudden, Peter’s face lit up.

“Oh, she’s good. She’s very good.” Peter’s was smiling – an ear-to-ear grin filled with admiration. “We’ve got to get back to the office.” Peter threw some cash on the table to cover their bill and rushed out of the restaurant, and Neal moved quickly to keep up.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“Nope – not until we get back – don’t want to have to explain myself twice.”

Back at Federal Plaza, Peter hustled Neal through building security and to the bank of elevators, impatiently pressing the “up” button as if that would make an elevator arrive faster. Neal was bemused and slightly aroused by the sight of Peter in full hunt mode, like a bird dog going after fallen game. He was also a bit shocked to realize how much of the joy Peter had for his work had been missing since the world blew to pieces.

A car finally arrived, and a dozen people got off, including Jones. Peter grabbed his agent, “Where are you going?”

“It’s five o’clock on Friday, and you had said we could take off ‘early’…” Neal caught Jones’ eye, and shook his head. “But I can certainly come back upstairs if you need me. I think Diana’s still in the office.”

“Good man.” Peter pulled both Jones and Neal into the waiting elevator and paced around the car until it stopped at the WCCD’s floor.

The office wasn’t empty, Diana and a few others were getting ready to leave and Hughes was back from his budget meeting. “Jones, Diana – set up your laptops in the conference room, Neal – with me.” Neal shrugged at the two agents, held out his hands in that familiar gesture of helpless compliance and followed Peter into Hughes’ office.

The old man listened thoughtfully as Peter quickly outlined the conversation with Isabelle, and was visibly impressed by Neal’s clever contribution. He gave Peter leave to start an investigation, but did warn him that it wouldn’t be open-ended. Neal was surprised that Peter said nothing to Hughes about Isabelle’s Kevlar vest or “Uncle Edgar.”

Back in the conference room, Peter repeated the summary he gave to Hughes. So much for not explaining things twice, Neal thought, but this time he added something. “We start by digging through SEC filings.”

At Neal’s blank stare, Peter added “The SEC’s public filing database is called ‘EDGAR’- Electronic Data-Gathering, Analysis, and Retrieval. What ever is going on, we’ll find it, or a hook into it in the company’s public filings”

Neal had to laugh – Uncle Edgar – EDGAR. Very, very clever.

Peter started by dividing up research responsibilities, and to Neal’s dismay, he was given white board duties – taking notes of any possible leads, but not exactly contributing to the investigation. Although it felt awkward and more than a little false (a strange feeling for a professional confidence artist), Neal actually reminded Peter to call his wife, rather than just simply calling Elizabeth himself. He was certain that both Clinton and Diana knew something was going on between the three of them, but Neal understood the importance of maintaining the charade. You never knew who was listening these days.

By ten o’clock, all four of them were exhausted. Aero-Dyne was an enormous conglomerate, made of up dozens of smaller companies, most of which were also listed in one stock exchange or another. Not knowing what to look for meant each document had to be closely read, rather than skimmed for key words. Peter finally called it a night when he saw that Jones had dozed off while reviewing 10-K filings. They’d each access the database over the weekend and start afresh Monday morning.

Neal waited patiently as the agents packed up, and as he went to retrieve his hat and jacket, Peter tossed something at him – a Kevlar vest. Peter, Clinton and Diana were each donning their own body armor.

“You know the rules, Neal. No one goes to the garage alone or after hours without a vest.”

Neal didn’t argue, and he didn’t make a flippant comment that he was already wearing a vest – one much more stylish than the bulky black armor. Someone had wanted him dead – whether it was Fowler or his puppet masters in Mentor, he still didn’t know. As Neal put on his own vest, Peter and Jones slipped back on their shoulder rigs. Diana still carried her service weapon at her waist and her backup – the one that Peter had used to shoot Fowler – at the small of her back.

They left the offices normally, but by the time the elevator reached the garage level, Peter, Clinton and Diana surrounded Neal, their weapons drawn and held down but with the safeties off. Neal was locked into Peter’s car first, and Peter covered Jones and Diana until they got to their own vehicles. The protective routine made Neal uncomfortable, the three acting like human shields for him. He wasn’t precisely sure what he did to deserve the risks they took for him.

Go to Part V

Comments

[ebeneezerdark.livejournal.com]

Like the image of Peter, Diana, and Clinton all being protective of Neal... :-)