elrhiarhodan

Title: Return and Rebuild the Desolate Places – Chapter Twenty-One
Author:

elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, Elizabeth Burke, Mozzie, Reese Hughes, Clinton Jones, Diana Berrigan, Olivia Benson (L&O: SVU), Section Chief Bruce (McKinsey) Original Characters
Spoilers: White Collar, all of Season 5; no specific spoilers for L&O: SVU, but set in Season 15. No spoilers for Season 6 (completely AU from S5 finale forward)
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Kidnapping, torture (off-camera), rape (off-camera),
Word Count: This chapter – ~2600
Beta Credit:

sinfulslasher
Story Summary: Six months after Neal disappears, Peter still has no answers and his decision not to go to Washington has had significant repercussions for both his career and his marriage.
Chapter Summary: The fractures between Neal and Peter begin to mend and Neal reveals something unexpected and unwanted in a conversation with a doctor.

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Previous Chapters: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen | Chapter Eighteen | Chapter Nineteen | Chapter Twenty

A/N: Title from Alan Hovhaness’ wind concerto, which takes it from the Old Testament. New chapters will be posted to my LJ every Thursday and to the relevant communities on Fridays. (Yes, I know today is Friday, but I wanted to see what was happening with the S6 premier before posting this).

Art by

kanarek13

Sometime in Late January – Thursday Afternoon

Peter held onto Neal, held him as he cried. He held him and wished like hell that they could be anyplace but in a hospital room. Neal was so thin, his body wasted from the months of captivity, his tears were soaking through his shirt, his body shaking from the release of so much pain.

He held onto Neal and cursed himself, cursed his stupidity and his guilt. Nothing should have kept him from his friend.

The storm passed and Neal stopped shaking, mostly. But Peter held him and remembered all the good times, their friendship, the man he used to be. The man he still wanted to be.

Neal stilled in his arms, resting his head on his shoulder before taking a deep, shuddering breath. Peter could feel him wince and a cough start. He eased Neal out of his arms and rubbed at his back and shoulders, trying not to notice the way the bones protruded through his skin. He kept up the gentle caress until Neal eased himself back against the mattress.

“Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“I’m a mess.” Neal blinked up at him, his eyes wary and expression guarded.

“Yeah.” Peter wasn’t sure what other answer would be required.

“What’s going to happen to me?”

“You’re not going back to prison.”

“For now – but …”

“No buts. You’re not going back – I have received … assurances.” Peter wasn’t sure that Neal was ready for the details. “The assholes from Treasury, the Marshals, hell – even the FBI – can throw all the tantrums they want. You’re not going back there.”

Neal looked like he didn’t believe him and the last thing that Peter wanted was for Neal to worry.

“Remember my boss?”

Neal nodded. “Bruce, right? He came in when the Treasury agents were interviewing me. What day was that? Saturday?”

“He was just here and he said, categorically, that you will not be going back to prison. He was told by senior members of the Justice Department.” Peter didn’t tell Neal about Landon – there was no need for him to know about the deal he had made with the devil. Her fingerprints were all over this and if she’d asked him to tithe his salary to RAINN instead of a single payment, he would have done so – just for this.

Neal finally seemed to believe him and Peter waited for the next question – whether the FBI still held the pawn ticket on his soul. But whatever Neal was or was not going to ask was cut short by a knock on the door.

“Excuse me, Mr. Neal Caffrey?”

The questioner, a doctor by her long white coat, looked from him to Neal, and Peter was struck by the amusing, albeit unrealistic thought that she wasn’t sure who the patient was.

Neal seemed to share the joke and he raised his hand. “I think that’s me.”

The doctor laughed, as if she also realized the humor in her question. “Sorry, I’m Doctor Reissenger, from Psychiatric Services.”

“Ah – you’re here to make sure I’m not crazy.”

Neal was smiling and joking, but Peter could tell just how nervous Neal was.

“Something like that.” The doctor was still smiling but her tone was serious. She turned to him. “You are?”

“Peter Burke, Neal’s friend.” Peter held out his hand.

She took it and gave him a curious stare, one that made him wonder if he was somehow in her file. “I’m afraid that I need to talk with Mr. Caffrey alone.”

He understood. He didn’t like it, but he understood. “Can you give us a few minutes?”

The doctor nodded and stepped out of the room.

“Neal – ” Peter couldn’t forget Neal’s session with the doctor who’d drugged and used her patients to commit serious felonies.

“I’m okay, Peter. Really.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I am. Look – you should go home, get some sleep. Who’s taking care of Satchmo?”

Peter had to laugh. “Of all the things, that’s what you’re worried about?”

“Hey – Satchmo’s important, too.”

“Yes, he is – and I’ve got a regular dog walker who comes in during the week. Nothing to be concerned about.”

“You probably could use your own bed. You look like crap.”

“Hey, thanks a lot.” Peter tried not to get choked up. This easy banter between them seemed so … normal.

“Peter …”

“Okay, okay – I’m going.” He put on his coat, picked up the case with the new tracker, took a deep breath and smiled. “I’ll be back later – so behave.”

Neal stared at the case with an odd, almost longing expression before he smiled back and held out his hand. Peter took it, nodding once, twice before letting go without a word.

He sighed in weary disgust as he walked out of the hospital. Of course it was snowing, or more accurately a combination of icy sleet and heavy wet flakes. The cold air cleared his head and instead of going home, he headed back to the office.

He was, for the moment, still an FBI agent.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The psychiatrist was very, for want of a better term, gentle with him, but her agenda was clear. Was he suicidal or otherwise going to be inclined to be a danger to himself or to others?

They talked and Neal did his best to answer honestly – a unique experiment on his part. Back when he’d been shipped off to Sing-Sing, he’d had a few sessions with the prison shrinks – he knew how to play them, and they responded like a Stradivarius in the hands of a maestro. He got a private cell, better food, better library and workshop privileges, and all the other things he needed to stay alive and sane.

Then there was Doctor Summers, the psychiatrist who had fucked with him so hard, it took six months of steady torture to get her out of his head.

But this shrink wasn’t like those other doctors. She didn’t pretend that he was anything more than an interesting chart in a pile of charts. And there was nothing to be gained by manipulating her for sympathy.

“Your friend, the man who was just here – can you tell me about him?”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Why not? He seemed important to you, you seem important to him.”

“He’s one of my closest friends. Someone I trust.”

“You’ve known each other a long time?”

Neal sighed. If it meant getting out of here, he’d give her the whole story. “Hope you don’t have another appointment anytime soon. Because this is going to take a while.”

The doctor smiled. “I’m all ears.”

Neal told her most of everything. Well, not anything that would implicate him in any legally questionable activities, but about how Peter caught him, how he conned Peter into getting him out of prison, how Peter turned the tables on him and put him on a leash for almost four years.

“So, doc – do I have Stockholm Syndrome? Am I just another clichéd version on Patty Hearst?”

“Why do you ask that, Mr. Caffrey?”

“Doesn’t it seem strange that I’ve become such good friends with the man who put me behind bars? The man who’s kept me chained up for over three years.” He laughed lightly.

The shrink didn’t seem to find that amusing. “Are you angry at Peter?”

“No, of course not. Why would you say that?”

The doctor tapped her pen against her lips. “Because I find your terminology interesting. You were held captive for six months, you suffered unspeakable horrors, and yet – when you talk about someone who you’ve referred to as one of your closest friends, someone you say has saved your life, you call him your ‘captor’.”

Neal clenched his fists, ignoring the stinging pain in the hand with the IV. “I was joking. Peter is not my captor.” He tried to control the anger in his voice.

The doctor flipped back through her notes. “Yet you said, and I quote ‘The man who’s kept me chained up.’ Under different circumstances, I’d think you were being playful, or trying to misdirect. But given the reasons why you’re here, why I’m here – I’m drawing a different conclusion.”

“I’m not angry at Peter.” And yet, as the words left his mouth, Neal could hear an echo of other words, words he might have spoken. “This is your fault – you did this to me. You did this, you bastard. You forgot about me and left me to die.”.

“Mr. Caffrey? Are you okay?”

The doctor reached out and touched his hand, and Neal flinched.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Neal shook his head, trying to dispel the not-memory. “Look – I’m kind of beat. Do you have any other questions?”

Doctor Reissinger gave him a vague smile. “No, I think we’re good here. You’ve been very forthcoming, Mr. Caffrey. That’s important.”

Neal summoned up a smile. “Will I be able to get out of here soon – or am I going to be consigned to a padded cell?” He wasn’t sure which answer he wanted. There was some security to be had with a clean, quiet room where no one would hurt him.

Of course, the she gave him a deliberately vague answer. “I’ll make my report tomorrow, but you’ll be fine.”

The doctor left and Neal was alone. He stared at the ceiling and tried not to hear words he hoped he’d never said.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Wet, cold, exhausted and not quite certain that coming back to the office was the best course of action, Peter was pleased to find a friendly face in the lobby of the FBI building.

“Hey, Di.” He shook out his coat and narrowly avoided getting her wet.

“Hey, yourself.” Diana’s smile was tinged with concern.

Peter could see the questions in her eyes. Where have you been? Have you seen Neal?

But she didn’t ask those questions. “Did Section Chief McKinsey get a hold of you? He was in the office early this morning, looking for you.” She spotted the aluminum case he was carrying. “Ah, I guess he did.”

“I met with him at the hospital.”

Diana gave him a broad, bright smile. “Then you’ve finally been to see Neal.”

“Yeah.” Peter took a deep breath and continued. “You were right, everyone was right. I needed to go see him. Regardless of what I’m feeling, he needed me.” Despite the hours spent at Neal’s bedside, the talk they’d had, even the news from Bruce, Peter still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was, ultimately, responsible for what happened to Neal. But that was his problem. Not Neal’s. He’d have to work on it.

Work. Which reminded him that, for the foreseeable future, he still had a job to do. “I’m sorry about going AWOL – what’s been happening?”

The elevator arrived and Diana filled him in on her active caseload. “Nothing critical. Some new case files hit your desk and your admin passed them onto Clinton for an initial review. I’ve been out interviewing witnesses on the Moretti fraud, and Price and Callahan are chasing down leads on that SBA bid-rigging scheme. Everyone else is hard at work, playing Minecraft or Angry Birds.”

Peter laughed. Diana’s dry humor was a tonic for his soul. “Good to hear that everything’s going smoothly.” Last night, he’d left a message with his admin, Andrea, that he’d be out of the office, but he hadn’t given her any other information.

“Yeah. Everything’s good.”

The elevator arrived at the twenty-first floor and they got out and headed into the office.

Diana went to her desk and Peter went up to his office. Andrea gave him a dirty look and dumped a stack of forms and files on his desk. Peter considered apologizing, but he was distracted by some movement in the bullpen. Diana and Clinton had gotten up from their desks and the guard, Allen, was escorting a very familiar someone through the office.

Sergeant Olivia Benson.

Peter waved off Andrea and went out to the balcony. Olivia looked up and smiled at him. He felt his lips curve into an answering grin, and filled with a lot more energy than he’d had in a week, he bounded down the stairs. “You have news?”

Olivia nodded. “We got them.”

Diana asked, “The bastards who took Neal?”

“Yes – and we have an admission on record. The man who snatched Neal couldn’t resist bragging after the deal was completed. He told Mozzie – ”

Clinton cut her off. “Moz – the little guy? Neal’s friend? He was part of your operation?”

Olivia nodded. “Him and your former colleague, Reese Hughes – they played the buyers.”

“Seriously, Mozzie and Agent Hughes?”

“They worked quite well together – they had this whole shtick going how they were twin brothers.”

Peter blinked, not quite believing his ears. Clinton and Diana burst out in laughter at the improbability of it.

He wanted details about the arrest – the funny bits could be saved for another time. “The guys who took Neal confessed?”

Olivia made a face. “Like I said, the younger guy – the one Neal called ‘Cowboy Boots’ – bragged to Mozzie that he’d snatched Neal and oversaw his …” She sighed at the word, “torture.” But that was before we made the arrests. Neither him nor his partner have said a word once we put the cuffs on. Not even to ask for an attorney.”

“That won’t make a difference.” Diana spoke with the assurance of an experienced agent of the law.

“No – but it’s a puzzle we’ll sort out.”

“Have you been to see Neal yet?”

“No – I wanted to tell you first, and then maybe we could go deliver the news together.” She looked at him and Peter could read the concern in her eyes. She’d been witness to Neal’s bitter, drug-induced accusations. She knew he’d been reluctant to see Neal after that.

“I just got back from the hospital – Neal was starting a session with a shrink. But we can go see him. Just give me a few minutes to wrap up some things, okay?”

Peter left Olivia with Clinton and Diana. He took his time, signing off on the stack of files and forms that Andrea had left for him. From his office, he watched the three of them talking, which quickly became almost every agent and staff member in the office, and it was clear that Olivia was describing the take-down. This was good. The moral in the office had suffered when Neal had disappeared, and as the weeks and months passed, it had gotten steadily worse. Peter couldn’t deny that his own behavior had been a big contributor.

Everyone had been worried about Neal and relieved when he’d been found alive, despite his terrible condition. Hearing that the people who’d hurt him had been caught and arrested was the best possible news.

Peter continued to watch and gradually, the staff began to drift back to their desks. Olivia looked up and Peter nodded. It was time to head back to the hospital.

TO BE CONTINUED - GO TO CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO