White Collar Fic - We Shall Come Home - Chapter XII

[elrhiarhodan]

Title: We Shall Come Home - Chapter XII
Author: elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Pairing/Characters: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, Elizabeth Burke, Reese Hughes, Diana Berrigan, Clinton Jones, Mozzie, Satchmo, plus other characters.
Rating: R
Spoilers: None
Word Count: ~ 3300 (this chapter) ~61,000 (total)
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Summary: Transformed beyond recognition, beyond comprehension, Peter and Neal are lost in the woods and desperately try to get home. A tale of friendship, sacrifice, loss and ultimately, of love. Disaster strikes again. Home is on the horizon, but not for one of them.

We Shall Come Home is not a work in progress. New chapters will be posted once a week, on Tuesdays.
Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV | Chapter V | Chapter VI | Chapter VII | Chapter VIII | Chapter IX | Chapter X | Chapter XI |

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CHAPTER XII – EARLY SUNDAY EVENING

PETER CROSSED AND RECROSSED THE PARK, TRYING TO PICK UP NEAL’S SCENT. It was impossible. There were too many other dogs – those that were in the park now, and those that had been through it during the days and weeks before. The scents of all of those dogs were a conflagration in his head, and he couldn’t think straight. As every moment passed, his hope of finding Neal’s trail faded – new dogs entered the park, they peed, they broke wind, they rubbed up against each other, mounting each other – releasing all sorts of intoxicating scents that masked whatever faint trail Neal had left behind.

How many times had he told Neal that no one gets left behind? And now he was about to do just that. There was no way he could find Neal like this, as a dog. One thing he’d never doubted during this entire journey was that getting home, getting back to Elizabeth, would transform him back into a man. He hadn’t shared this conviction with Neal, and that was a guilt he’d have to expiate somehow.

At least as a man, he could ask questions. He had the authority of his badge, he knew he could depend on his team to help him find Neal. He didn’t think about how he was going to explain the metamorphosis – but he could depend on Jones and Diana at the very least to do what he asked, even if they didn’t believe that the dog they were searching for was actually Neal Caffrey.

Peter sat down next to the Martyrs’ Monument, panting, exhausted. He was hungry, angry, defeated and simply worn out. He knew he had no choice, but he didn’t know how he was going to live with himself. How he could just leave Neal behind.



THIS MORNING’S FAILURE ATE AT HUGHES’ HEART. He’d been so damned certain they’d find Peter and Neal in Matamoras. The only solid lead to their disappearance – and it turned out to be a damned coincidence. Eric Whitman was definitely an electronics whiz, and he’d been in the pay of that thug, Ryan Wilkes, right up until the time that Wilkes had kidnapped Lindsey Gless. It seemed the man got squeamish when it came to kidnapping children and disappeared himself until after Wilkes’ trial and sentencing.

They found him right where the electroshock weapons parts were delivered, which turned out to be the headquarters of a hush-hush defense contractor in a warehouse in the Red Hook section of Brooklyn. Whitman was very forthcoming, particularly with his new livelihood on the line. He had heard from an old friend that Wilkes wanted Caffrey dead, but he just didn’t have the juice to make it happen.

A team of interrogators was sent to interview Wilkes at the Federal Penitentiary in Lewisburg, but Hughes thought it a waste of time and resources. Peter and Neal had very convincingly smashed that crime ring, and Wilkes didn’t even have the funds to pay for an attorney. No, they had no leads, no clues that meant anything, and he was about to tell Peter’s wife that after five days of searching, they were no closer to finding her husband than they’d been the afternoon he disappeared.

Berrigan and Jones were with him, and the part of him that was a top manager noted that these two agents would need both commendations and promotions, even though this mission was a failure. Bile rose at the sudden awareness that, come Monday morning, he was going to have to reassign cases, get the team’s focus back on financial crimes, not the search for their missing agent. And get a replacement for Peter.

But then he thought about the ring he had found – Peter’s wedding band. Of all the senseless things about the disappearance of his friend, this was the most senseless of all. Why would kidnappers bother to take his wedding band off and toss it away? He closed his eyes and tried to reason this out. He kept seeing the ring just falling off of Peter’s hand, but that made no sense either. Hughes rubbed the warm gold between his fingers – he needed to give this to Elizabeth.

It would break her heart.

The command outpost the FBI had set up on the block was still manned, but with a single agent. The unit would be removed tomorrow. Hughes shook his head – it was all about resources. Maybe if word leaked out to the media about a missing federal agent, he could keep the Bureau’s focus on active recovery, rather than letting it shift to the local field office and the Pennsylvania State Police’s homicide team.

Mounting the nine steps up to Peter and Elizabeth’s front door felt like climbing to the top of the Empire State Building. Hughes had barely taken his finger off the bell when the door was flung open.

The light in Elizabeth’s eyes dimmed when she saw him.

“May we come in?”

Peter’s wife stepped aside and the three agents went into the house.

Hughes instantly noticed Neal’s small, strange friend, his supposed lawyer, the guy who had given Berrigan the idea about using a high powered shock to unlock the tracking cuff. The man was desperately trying to blend into the paint, and it gave him a bit of perverse delight to greet him directly. “Mr. Havisham. How are you holding up?”

He didn’t bother waiting for an answer before turning back to Peter’s wife. “Elizabeth…”

“Reese, do you have any news? Anything?” She held out her hands to him, her voice desperate.

He shook his head. “We thought we had a solid lead this morning, but it turned out to be nothing.” His heart sank even further at the expression on her face.

“What happens now?”

He dreaded that question.

“Elizabeth, the Bureau is doing everything it can to try and locate Peter and Neal. But for now, the investigation is being officially handed back to the Philadelphia field office, which will coordinate with the Pennsylvania State Police.”

“You think they’re dead.”

He shook his head again. “No, I don’t. I don’t know what happened to them, but I can’t believe that they are dead.”

“It’s only been five days, Reese.”

“I know, but five days is a long time given the complete lack of evidence – no ransom, no proof of life. We are at the point that unless we turn it over to Missing Persons, we will have to treat this as a homicide. I was able to keep it within the White Collar division as long as I could, but the Assistant Director has overruled me and James Bancroft. We both want to keep going, but without a solid lead, there’s just nothing I can do.”

Havisham finally spoke up. “What will happen if the local heroes can’t find anything?”

He turned and looked at Neal’s friend. “There’s no fixed time for an investigation, but if the Philadelphia field office turns up nothing in a reasonable amount of time, resources will be scaled back.”

“Nice weasel words, Suit.”

The man was getting angry, and Hughes didn’t blame him.

“Over a dozen years in the Bureau and Peter Burke becomes a cold case in, what, two weeks? If you were just looking for Neal, you’d have the whole Department of Justice after him because he’s an escaped felon. But Burke goes missing and you just ‘scale back resources’ when you can’t find him?”

Berrigan spoke up for the first time. “Moz, watch your mouth. We’re doing all we can, and then some. You have no idea how Agent Hughes has fought to keep this case under his jurisdiction. The Marshals wanted to put a shoot-on-sight order out on Neal. And Peter means as much to us as Neal does to you.”

Hughes fought not to smile at the young agent’s fervent defense. “You are wrong that we are just letting this die. Peter is a personal friend – I’d give my life for him – but I can’t keep directing the investigation. I shouldn’t have been allowed to take it this far, but Peter and Neal have very strong partisans in the local administration, and they’ve allowed me to keep this investigation under my control far longer than they should have.”

“Do you trust the agents in the Philadelphia office? Do you trust them to continue the search?” Elizabeth asked him, heartbreak in every word.

He turned back to her. “Peter is a fellow agent, and that will always make this a priority case. It won’t just disappear.”

“You aren’t answering my question, Reese.”

Hughes knew he was deflecting. “Elizabeth, I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I don’t know the agents in the Philly office that have been assigned to the case. But I’ve been personally assured by the SAIC that this case will be given top priority. Like I said, Peter’s a well-liked and well-respected agent. That alone will guarantee that this won’t get buried. And I will personally keep following up, as often as I have to, to make sure this stays a priority.”

“Until they have to ‘scale back resources.’ ”

Hughes didn’t say anything. Havisham was absolutely correct.

He caught Jones’ and Berrigan’s eyes and signaled that it was time to leave. They were all exhausted and could use some down time. But Hughes had one more thing to do before leaving. “Elizabeth. When I was with the search teams in Pennsylvania, I found this.” He held out Peter’s wedding band.

There was dead silence in the Burkes’ living room as she took it from his hand. Then all hell broke loose as the doorbell rang and rang and rang.


PETER MADE HIS WAY OUT OF FORT GREENE PARK, his movements slow and painful. He carefully detoured around the playgrounds and ball fields, areas that were generally restricted to humans. It would be a tragic irony if he were picked up by Animal Control just a few blocks from home. The sun was getting low on the horizon, but he had no idea what time it was. He knew it was June, when the days were long and the sun didn’t set until well after eight, but that didn’t help. And it really didn’t matter. What did matter was getting out of this park, onto DeKalb and then home.

He thought that it wasn’t so much the arrow in his head as good luck that allowed him to find the DeKalb Avenue gate without too much searching. The road wasn’t busy, so maybe it was a weekend. Peter could remember that it had been four nights since the transformation, but he couldn’t remember what day it was. It could be Saturday, it could be Sunday, and regardless he was just thankful that he’d be able to get across the street without getting hit by a car.

He was oblivious to the stares he was getting on the four block walk-trot to his home. By the time he reached the 4200 block of DeKalb Avenue, the pain in his body was nearly unbearable. He stood at the base of the steps leading up to his front door – there were nine of them – unsure if he’d be able to make that climb. Through the living room curtains, he could see people inside, which hopefully meant that Elizabeth was home.

Elizabeth – Elizabeth – Elizabeth. Her name pounded in his head, in syncopation to the beat of his aching heart. It was the goad he needed to climb up those stairs, to press his snout against the doorbell and to stay alive long enough to see her once more.


HER HEART STOPPED AND STARTED WITH EACH REPEATED CHIME. Against all reason, all rational belief, all logic, she knew that it was Peter on the other side of the door. Satchmo started barking and scrabbling at the inner door, and her hopes were instantly confirmed – Satch was a lazy beast and never got excited unless Peter was coming home from a long trip.

Jones grabbed the Lab’s collar as she opened the inside door, and then yanked open the outer one. A huge brown dog, filthy and emaciated, rushed inside and collapsed right by the door.

She heard Moz whisper, “Neal?”

Shaking her head, she said, “No, it’s Peter. It’s Peter.” The others in the room murmured their confusion, their disbelief. Even Satchmo was taken aback, unsure about who or what this stranger was.

Falling to the floor next to the beast, she stroked Peter’s massive head. He looked at her, right into her eyes, and whimpered.

Her eyes filled with tears – this time joyful ones at her husband’s return. Others might not believe, Hughes and Diana and Jones might scoff, but she knew. It was his eyes. As alien as the rest of his body might be, these were Peter’s eyes.

She bent low and kissed him, on the ridge between his brows, burying her hands in his fur. Her tears fell freely, dripping off her cheeks onto Peter’s face, and he shuddered.

Elizabeth felt a shock like the pulse from touching the terminals of a nearly spent battery with wet hands. It went through her and into Peter – or maybe it came from Peter and was pouring into her, she wasn’t sure.

The pulses became stronger, rolling on and on, keeping her connected to her husband, and she just couldn’t let go. The body underneath her hands began to convulse, pulling itself apart, and she wanted to scream for it to stop but the shock had seized up her throat, and it was hard to draw anything but the shallowest of breaths.

Peter’s body arched, those paws and legs spasming against the wood floor, head was thrown back, teeth bared in agony. Frozen as she was, she could no more close her eyes than she could take her hands away, Elizabeth could see the moment the change began. It wasn’t like something in a horror movie – no special effects wizard would ever be able to capture this metamorphosis from dog to human. It was little things first: the spacing of the eyes, then how the long snout flattened. Fur receded and became a weeklong growth of facial hair.

The huge barrel chest collapsed into a human torso, the forelegs took on muscle mass, the paws spread into palms and fingers. She couldn’t see the rest of the change, but when it finally came to an end; her hands were resting on her the filthy, naked and bruised body of her husband.

He looked at her, lost and weary and terribly, terribly sad.

“Elizabeth…”

At that word, everything seemed to happen at once, as if time had no meaning. Hughes and Jones and Diana were crowding around her, Satchmo was barking and howling and trying to lick everyone. Moz just shoved his way between everyone and knelt across from her. She couldn’t stop him from grabbing at Peter.

“Where’s Neal? Where the hell is Neal?”

“Lost… I’m so sorry, I lost him.” Peter struggled – he tried to reach out, to lever himself upright, but the effort was too much. His eyes rolled up into his head and he passed out.


NEAL HUDDLED IN THE STRANGE DEN HE HAD FOUND. It smelled bad, like fear and pain, and he wanted to leave it in the worst way. But he couldn’t. He needed to stay here and wait for Peter to find him. He shivered in the shadowy darkness, waiting patiently, waiting despite the fear, despite the thirst and the hunger and the aching loneliness. He listened to the sounds outside his den, not knowing what they meant. They weren’t pack, and they weren’t other dogs, but they frightened him all the same. There was anger there – that he recognized. There was desperation – he felt that too.

There was also the voice inside him, the one that had screamed at him not to run, not to leave Peter. He didn’t want to hear that voice again. It reminded him that he had disobeyed; he’d left his pack, his leader behind. Maybe Peter wasn’t going to come for him. Maybe Peter was angry, like those voices outside. Maybe this was punishment. Or maybe Peter was hurt and couldn’t come for him.

Neal turned inwards, trying to ignore the fear and the voice. He whimpered to himself and thought of the joys of running in the shadowed forest, Peter ahead of him, Peter beside him. He thought of fresh cold water and the pulse of hot blood in his mouth after a kill, but none of these thoughts comforted him as he laid curled up, nose tucked under his tail. The sun dropped below the tree line and the darkness became complete. Neal waited and waited for Peter, his pack mate, his leader, to come and take him home.

The night passed and Peter didn’t come.

To Be Continued