Neal's apartment. Sunday morning. March 7, 2004.
After more than a week away, it felt great to wake up in his own place again. Neal had been prepared to argue last night that he should be allowed to return to his loft, and when that argument hadn't been necessary, he didn't put up a fight when Henry insisted on staying at Neal's place. Having been accused of being the infamous Mr. Hyde, Henry needed the show of trust that he was still assigned as Neal's guard against the real Mr. Hyde.
And now Neal woke to the smell of the breakfast Henry was preparing. They had a tradition for Neal's birthday, and it always started with room service or breakfast in bed, depending on where they were.
One of their first arguments, after Henry found Neal and checked him into a hospital in Chicago, had been about Neal's birthday. Neal had insisted his birthday was March seven, because that's the date he'd grown up celebrating. But that was a date the Marshals had chosen for his WITSEC identity. He'd actually been born on March twenty-one and Henry had insisted Neal was still a minor, even though Neal believed he had run away on his eighteenth birthday.
It had led to a compromise. They alternated celebrating his birthday. In odd-numbered years they celebrated March twenty-one, and in even-numbered years they celebrated March seven. Even though it was complicated, even though they often had a lot going on, Henry never forgot. He clearly took great pleasure in planning birthday celebrations, and in keeping his plans a secret. Given everything Henry had been through yesterday – learning that his father was almost certainly the person who had tried to kill Neal and had tried to frame Henry for the crime – it was tempting to tell him he didn't have to do the big birthday thing this year. But Neal knew his cousin. If he weren't busy running this birthday, he'd be fretting and obsessing about what Robert had done.
Neal had realized a couple of years ago that they both needed these celebrations. It was less about a birthday and more about their friendship, falling around the anniversary of when they had met up as semi-adults. It had served as an acknowledgement that they valued their friendship and wanted to continue their journeys together. He'd taken it for granted until 2001, when he waited until the end of that year's celebration to put an end to their partnership, saying they needed to go separate ways, all the while hiding the fact that Robert was blackmailing him into leaving. The next year Neal had made a point of being out of the country on his birthday, and had spent the day in utter misery. In 2003 he'd been in New York, and had been relieved when Henry showed up at his apartment early in the morning with an exorbitant take-out breakfast. That had marked the official mending of their friendship, even if they had to hide it from Robert.
This time after breakfast Mozzie joined them for an activity that had clearly been his idea. With his help they organized Neal's artworks. Some they framed and hung in Neal's apartment. Works in progress were carefully sorted and arranged near a present from Henry: a much more sturdy and expensive easel than Neal had ever owned. Henry had brushed off the thanks, saying it was a more practical choice now that Neal actually had a fixed address and wouldn't be moving every few months. The rest of Neal's art they took to a nearby, climate-controlled storage facility that catered to artists and others with delicate items to store. The rent was already paid for a year in advance by June. She was still staying with her daughters for another week but had wanted to do something in honor of Neal's birthday. She'd left a note saying that Byron had also designated a gift that she would deliver in person when she returned to Riverside Drive.
In the evening Henry insisted they change into suits, and then they were on their way to the hotel where Noelle was staying. Somewhat to Neal's surprise, Noelle was still using the massive suite that Graham had rented. And Graham was back. Peter and Elizabeth were also there, and for once Peter's suit wasn't from Brooks Brothers. He looked almost debonair, and slightly out of his element.
Trying not to overthink things, Neal went on instinct. He walked over to Peter and for the first time initiated a hug. "Thanks, Peter."
Peter patted him on the back, and then met Neal's eyes as the younger man stepped away. "You're welcome. For what?"
"For not giving up on me, even when I'm tempted to give up on myself."
"I'm pretty stubborn," Peter warned. "I'll keep dragging you back to the light until you finally believe you belong here. You are one of the good guys."
Henry joined them. "Give it back, Neal."
Neal grinned and handed Peter's badge back to the agent. "I couldn't believe you brought it to a birthday party." Then he became more serious. "But since you did, can you update me on the case? I know the details can wait until Monday, but I'd like to hear the big picture. Can we get that out of the way, and then put it aside for the party?"
Peter hesitated. "Are you sure it's a good idea for you to go back to work so soon?"
"Yes," Neal insisted.
"A half-day," Henry said. "We have plans for Monday afternoon."
Neal knew nothing about these plans, but he was willing to compromise. "A half-day Monday, and then I'm back full time."
Peter nodded. "Henry, will you grab Graham?" The four of them founds seats in the living area. "Yesterday, with help from Win-Win, we found August Hitchum. OPR is questioning him today, and Monday we'll get our shot at him."
"From our side," Graham said, "the Hitchum connection started pulling things together. We tracked money and communications going to him. Our Mr. Hyde's methods and motives are becoming clear. It's a combination of wanting to get ahead at Win-Win at any cost and wanting to hurt Neal."
"It's Robert," Henry said, sounding resigned.
"I hate to think my own son would do this. I hate what it's putting you through. But yeah, everything's pointing in that direction. Back at Jacobi, when you talked about Robert blackmailing Neal, I couldn't believe it. But when I got back to Baltimore and talked to him, he kept his cool until I mentioned Neal. He couldn't hide his reaction when I asked for his side of the blackmail story. I wish you'd told me about that earlier. I had no idea."
"I thought that's how Win-Win did things. After all, the company is his life. It's hard to separate Dad from the job."
"No wonder you resisted coming to work for us. I don't suppose you'd tell me how he talked you into that?" When Henry shook his head, Graham continued, "We can talk about it later. I have a feeling there's a lot we need to talk about before you go back to work. Anyway, the day after I talked to Robert is when we found the evidence pointing to you, and then he went missing."
"I'll find him," Henry promised.
"No," Graham said. "We'll find him. We're in this together. And frankly I don't think it's a good idea for you to be part of the search. We should go with a Winston as the lead on this – someone who isn't emotionally involved. Something like this, it can tear you apart if you let it. Let someone else take this on. I've been talking to Noelle. She says you need time to come to terms with what he's done. God knows if I'll ever understand what Robert did and why, so I sure see her point."
Henry nodded, but there was a stubborn expression on his face that Neal knew well. Henry would find a way to join the search for Robert.
"When you say we're in this together, you'd better mean Win-Win and the FBI," Peter said. "We have a stake in this. We could have separate investigations, but it would be more efficient if we shared information and worked together."
A woman walked up, wearing a bartender's uniform. "Good evening. I'm Yvonne. Welcome to the premier event of Burke Premiere Events. Can I get you something to drink?"
"Hell, yes," said Graham. "It's time we remembered this is a party."
As Yvonne took their drink requests, Neal noticed someone had started playing the suite's grand piano, and was doing an amazing job with a complex piece by Chopin. "Who's playing?" he asked Henry.
Henry tried to look innocent. "I can't imagine."
Neal leaned over to get a better view of the piano. "Angela? What's she doing in New York?"
"Spring break," Henry said. "It was perfect timing to stop here on her way home to D.C."
"You're kidding me. And you just snuck her in when I wasn't looking?" Neal stood up to walk to the piano. He waited to the side while she finished the Nocturne, not wanting to interrupt.
"Here's your drink." Peter carried the glass of wine Neal had requested.
"Hey, Dad, you've gotta meet..." Neal trailed off, derailed by the stunned expression on Peter's face. "What is it?"
"You called me Dad."
"I did?" Neal hadn't realized he'd done that. He'd done it before of course, but always consciously, and almost always in a joking manner. "Um." He backed up half a step, wary of this whole family concept and unsure if he'd crossed a line calling Peter Dad in this public setting.
Perhaps seeing Neal's flight instinct was kicking in, Peter put a hand on his arm. "It's okay, Neal. Took me by surprise, but in a good way."
Before Neal could decide what to say, Angela came up and hugged him. "Happy Birthday, Neal." She smiled at him, and then glanced at Peter.
"Here," Peter handed Neal his drink and reached forward to shake Angela's hand. "I'm Peter Burke, Neal's boss, friend, and honorary father figure."
"Angela Caffrey. I'm Neal's cousin. Apparently we met as children, but the first time we remember meeting was this past Christmas. We're just getting to know each other, beyond the wild stories Henry has told over the years."
"At Christmas?" Peter asked. "Were you in D.C., too?"
Neal sighed. He'd been refusing to answer most of Peter's questions about how he and Henry had spent Christmas. Partly to be annoying, partly to hide some of Henry's secrets, and partly because he wasn't sure what to say about Angela's role. Christmas had been a rough time for her. "Peter is also nosy. It's an occupational hazard. He's an FBI agent. You don't have to submit to an interrogation if you don't want to."
"Henry really has rubbed off on you, hasn't he? You've got the big brother thing going, too. That's sweet, in a totally annoying way." Angela reached up to muss Neal's hair.
"Hey, cut that out!"
As Neal straightened his hair, Angela smiled politely at Peter. "Normally we spend Christmas at my Caffrey grandparents' house, but this was the first Christmas since my father had died. We all wanted to do something different and escape the flood of memories. We thought going to New York would be the answer. Plenty to do, new memories to make. The problem was, after we made our reservations, a memorial for fallen soldiers was planned in New York for over the holidays. When word got out the Ambassador was going to be here, of course he was expected to attend to honor his son. I tried going, but just couldn't handle it. I bolted, told Mom I needed to get away. Instead of dwelling on Dad's death, I wanted to wallow in memories of his life, so I flew standby to D.C. on the morning of the twenty-sixth and showed up at my grandparents' house. Finding Henry there gave me something else to think about, as I tried to figure out what he was up to. Because Henry is always up to something. He actually tried to hide Neal. As if that was going to happen." She looked back at Neal. "I think you were as curious to meet me as I was to meet you."
Neal nodded.
And now she grinned, looking a lot like Henry. "Okay, I've stalled long enough. Turn around."
Neal turned around and his eyes widened. "Trent, I didn't expect..." He stared at his godfather, speechless.
"Yeah, Henry said it would be a surprise." Trent Lombard introduced his wife and two teenaged sons.
"You're the one!" one of the boys said.
"That's right," Trent said. "Neal is the reason I've never let you inside the Aston Martin."
"You really stole his car when you were two years old?" asked the other boy.
"I was almost three, and it was more a matter of the car accidentally rolling off with me inside. I had no idea I'd put it in gear."
"Thankfully I was there to save the day," Henry said. "I can always find Neal."
Neal raised a brow.
"No," said Angela. "We are not playing hide-and-seek in the middle of your birthday party."
"You're just afraid I'd win," Henry said.
"Keep your delusions. I'm going back to my good friend, Mr. Piano." Soon Angela was playing "Yesterday."
"Very subtle!" Henry yelled. "We are not the source of all your troubles!"
Angela transitioned into "You're So Vain."
"No respect at all," Henry grumbled, sounding very much like Graham. "After all I've done for that girl."
At the end of a verse she started playing "Nobody Does It Better."
"That's more like it." Henry put an arm around each of Trent's boys. "Let's get you some food." He led them happily away to a table of snacks.
Peter was talking to Trent. Elizabeth had struck up a conversation with Noelle and Polly Lombard. Angela was busy at the piano and Henry was basking in the admiration of two starving teenagers. Maybe this family stuff wasn't going to be overwhelming.
"Neal." Graham was standing beside him, hands in his pockets. "I hope I'm not too out of place at a Caffrey family party."
"You can hardly be out of place in your own hotel suite."
"I didn't expect to like you," Graham said. "I listened too much to things Robert said, and didn't ask enough questions. Now Henry, he's always questioning things. Drives me to distraction sometimes. But the fact is, that's what Win-Win needs. Our founders either quit or got booted out of the FBI because they constantly questioned things instead of accepting the status quo. My father was one of them, you know. An agent who couldn't stop asking questions. Somehow over the years we got complacent, wanted the employees to be smart but not get smart with us. Stay in their place and do what they're told. But not Henry, and not that team he trained. They're what we need."
"Are you trying to ask me to convince Henry to stay at Win-Win? He already knows you need him. But I'm not going to try to help guilt him into doing something he doesn't want. You have to let him make up his own mind."
Graham shook his head. "Yeah, I know he needs time. I'm trying to get around to thanking you. He credits the time he spent with you for a lot of his maturity. When I think about what Robert's done, and how that's going to hurt the family, well, I'm glad Henry has a friend like you. I might not have Noelle's expertise in psychology, but even I can tell a good friend makes a huge difference in your outlook when you're feeling hurt."
"Thanks, Mr. Winslow. I'll do everything I can to help Henry. He's been like a brother to me."
"I know. In fact, I'm starting to think you should go ahead and call me Pops."
"Oh. That's, um, that's very kind of you."
Graham laughed. "All part of my plot to rope you into Win-Win one of these days. Make you feel like one of the family, and next thing you know you're part of the team."
"And then Henry's even more motivated to stay."
"You're smart, I'll give you that." Graham stepped forward and put a hand on Neal's shoulder. "Fact is, even if I didn't like you, I couldn't forgive what Robert did. It was wrong in more ways than I can count, and... I have a hard time comprehending it, much less talking about it. But I promise, there will be justice. Noelle tells me she already has some ideas about how we can make things up to you. I have a feeling the next Win-Win board meeting is going to be a doozy."
Trent's oldest son arrived with a plate of appetizers and handed it to Neal. "Henry said I should come rescue you."
"Thanks."
"Whippersnapper is too smart for his own good," Graham grumbled. "Both of you are. Must be why I like you." He grabbed an appetizer from the plate and joined Peter and Trent.
Neal put his glass of wine on a table and tried an appetizer. Then he looked at the boy who had delivered the plate. He looked about eighteen. "Paul, right?" Neal asked.
"Yeah."
"Not your normal birthday party."
Paul shrugged. "Normal is a cake and candles and people singing the birthday song."
Neal had attended parties like that as a kid. This was the first year Henry had gone the traditional route. The Lombard family looked as normal as you could get, but Paul's use of the term sounded derogatory. "Not a fan of normal?" Neal asked.
"It gets old. Mom likes to arrange stuff that's more interesting. We do something different every year."
"What was your favorite?"
Paul thought it over. "This might sound lame."
"Try me."
"Last year my birthday fell over spring break. We went to Colorado. The Air Force Academy is in Colorado Springs and Dad knows a lot of people there. And my brother Davy is all about flying and the Air Force. But for my birthday we visited the Cave of the Winds. They have some tours where you have to be at least thirteen, and this time Davy was old enough so we could all go. It made me think I want to be a geologist, you know? I'm older than Davy and still had no idea what I wanted to do. But after that trip I figured it out." He shrugged. "Not as exciting as working for the FBI, I suppose."
"You should try working a mortgage fraud case before you say that," Neal said. "There's nothing like working for the government when it comes to paperwork."
"What about you? What was your best birthday?"
Neal considered a variety of surprises and adventures Henry had planned over the years. The first year had simply been a trip to an amusement park. The most surprising had been Neal's first trip to Paris and a whirlwind visit of art museums. It was fortunate Neal was fluent in French, because Henry's two years of high school French had gone in one ear and out the other. "This one," said Neal. "It's all about the people. That's what's really important."
Soon Paul returned to his brother and the food, and Neal watched Henry join Angela at the piano. They had a routine down, a kind of comedy act honed from years of family events, where they squabbled and delivered their arguments and insults by singing lyrics from a wide array of songs. It was a long family tradition, Henry had explained over Christmas. David, Noelle and Meredith had done the same thing, as had Edmund Caffrey with his brothers and sisters. Neal listened to his cousins as he tried the gourmet appetizers. He could see hotel staff in the dining room, preparing to serve dinner.
There was a pause in the dueling at the piano. "Shoo!" ordered Noelle. She sat at the piano, playing a song Neal vaguely recognized. And suddenly Irene stepped around a corner, singing "Why Can't You Behave" to her daughter's accompaniment. Irene sought out Henry, twirling across the floor with him. Edmund took Angela into his arms, dancing and harmonizing with his wife as they admonished their grandchildren to behave.
Then Henry stopped in front of Neal. "You're the guest of honor," he said, stepping away from their grandmother as Irene tugged Neal onto what had become the dance floor.
The song was almost over, so Neal didn't have long to dance with his grandmother. At the end of the song she looked up at him with a dazzling smile and said, "Happy Birthday, dear boy."
He met her eyes, mesmerized, and blurted out, "You love me."
"Of course."
"But you don't even know me. I've been gone for years."
"Nonsense. I loved you from the day your mother told me she was expecting you. Love doesn't end because you don't see someone every day." She patted his arm. "Dinner's ready. They're waiting for you."
Neal followed her, entranced and bewildered. Edmund put an arm around Neal's shoulders. "That's the same look I had on my face the first time I talked to Irene. I think she was put on this Earth to befuddle me. Once I stopped fighting it, I loved every minute of it."
Elizabeth heard the remark. "Will you tell us how you and Irene met?"
"It would be my pleasure," said Edmund. "Here, Neal." He directed Neal to the head of the table and sat beside him. Irene sat on Neal's other side, with Elizabeth and Peter beside Edmund, and Henry, Angela and Noelle beside Irene. Graham, Trent, Polly and their sons filled out the other end of the table. "Now you have to keep in mind, I was the grandson of Irish immigrants. The stories they passed down said we were descended from the rulers of our land."
He took on an Irish accent as he spoke. "But that had been a long time ago. Stripped of money and family home, they became troubadours, a traveling band of proud but poor musicians and artists who wandered Ireland until a branch of the family decided to wander this country instead. And so it was when I was growing up. We had stories and songs, but no money, you see. I got by on my wits, which are a Caffrey trait. I had big plans. I might not be a ruler, but I wanted to meet them. And I wanted a big, welcoming home to return to and be proud of, a place where my children and their children would return. Well, that meant going to college. And to pay for college, I joined the Army." Edmund suddenly turned to Neal. "Eat now, boyo. Don't ignore the feast our lovely hostess arranged."
Neal stopped staring at Edmund and obligingly took a bite of the salmon. It was good. He took another bite and looked up at Henry, wondering why he'd never shared this description of the Caffreys as troubadours. It seemed so apt.
Henry slid his eyes toward Angela and shook his head.
"My family wasn't so colorful," said Irene. "Bankers and brokers. Very earnest, conservative, and quietly wealthy. They had no idea what to make of me when I said I wanted to be an actress. They were stunned when I actually started getting parts in movies. But it was a golden age for musicals, a magic time for a young woman who could sing and dance and act. I was having the time of my life, and on a break between movies I agreed to join a USO tour, to entertain the troops. On one stop I met a very dashing, very disapproving officer. Such a lovely smile, yet it turned into a scowl every time he looked my way. But for some reason I liked him very much, and I asked him about his plans for after he left the Army. And he said very soon he would be going to New York City to study at Columbia. Before I left he unbent enough to sing a song with me. Such a wonderful baritone voice, such a sad thing that he seemed ashamed to be heard. We had a lovely time, but before I left he made it clear that we weren't meant to be. He needed a proper, dignified, intelligent wife, not a fly-by-night actress."
"Goodness," said Elizabeth.
"Well, I might be a little bit stubborn," Irene said. "You don't make it into the movies without perseverance, and I decided to teach that officer a lesson. I'd had offers to do theater, and I took a part in a musical on Broadway. A small part, because I wanted time to study."
Edmund smiled at her. "And I went to my first history class at Columbia to find a fly-by-night actress sitting a row behind me. Oh, she turned heads. Every man in the room asked her out, and she turned us all down. She was there to study, she told us, not to get her M-R-S. And she took the top honors. By the end of the semester we were asking for her for study dates, because she had the best grades of all of us. At the end of the school year she went back to Hollywood to make another movie. And she made a point of telling me goodbye, and wishing me luck finding a proper, dignified wife who wouldn't bore the socks off me." Edmund raised his glass in a toast to Irene. "Before the summer was over I was in Hollywood, begging her to marry me."
"And you lived happily ever after?" Elizabeth asked.
"Oh, no. That would have been boring," Irene objected. "We had adventures, with magnificent triumphs and the occasional tragedy."
After the meal everyone gathered around the piano. This time Irene sang a few songs from movies she had appeared in. Then she asked Henry to sing. He chose "Peace in Our Time" and sang it with an Irish accent that brought a smile to Edmund's face.
When Henry was done he looked up for the next request. Irene stood beside Neal and squeezed his arm. "I'm told you have a lovely voice, dear boy. Will you sing something for us?"
"Um. Sure." It was rare for Neal to feel stage fright, but his mind went blank as he tried to think what song this group would like.
Henry seemed to guess what was going on. "You might want to give him some space," he suggested as he picked up his guitar. "I think I know something Peter will appreciate." Henry started playing and Neal grinned as he recognized Eric Clapton's "No Alibis." Neal sang, with Angela providing backup.
Then Henry handed the guitar to Edmund, who treated them to a few Irish folk songs. Several members of the family sang along. Henry had taught Neal some of these tunes over the years, and Edmund looked surprised but very pleased when Neal joined in.
At Irene's request, Noelle took a seat at the piano and played "You Are My Lucky Star" while Neal had one more dance with this grandmother.
Then Edmund and Irene announced that they should return to their own room. "Henry said you'll need time to adjust to having a family again," Edmund said. "We won't be breathing down your neck. But remember D.C. is a short flight away, and we hope you'll visit us soon."
"Very soon, my dear boy," Irene seconded, and then she kissed Neal goodnight.
Angela left with them, explaining that she would be on the same flight to Washington, D.C. early in the morning.
Trent Lombard and his family were the next to leave. He also encouraged Neal to visit D.C. soon, and joked that he might let Neal drive the Aston Martin, "for old times' sake."
When the Lombards were gone, Henry shook his head. "You have to take him up on that, Neal. And bring me along when you do. I've been trying for years to get behind the wheel of that car."
Soon Henry said it was time to go, and Peter and Elizabeth joined them on the way down to the parking garage. As soon as Neal saw they were parked right beside Henry's rental, he was suspicious. Equally suspicious was the fact that Peter was still driving the SUV he'd rented for the trip to the cabin.
"Either you're planning a crime, or you're about to spring another birthday surprise," Neal said.
Peter popped the back of the SUV. "Surprise."
There were art supplies. This was high quality stuff. Painting wasn't exactly a cheap hobby, not if you wanted the kind of results Neal liked to produce. Here were the best oil paints and canvases. Lots of canvases. "A blank slate, a fresh start," said Peter. "Whatever analogy you want to use, that seemed appropriate. The canvases are from us. The rest is a gift from your family."
"I thought being stared at while you opened presents might not be your favorite thing," Henry added. "So I told them I'd deliver everything after the party."
"This is amazing," said Neal. "I don't know what to say."
"Save your breath for carrying this stuff up to your loft," Peter suggested. "We'll follow you there."
On the drive over to the mansion, Henry said, "Dressa asked for a Neal Caffrey original when you have the time."
Neal thought about the piece he'd been working on right before the Highbury case, the one that reflected his hopes and fears about reconnecting with his family. He hadn't been able to finish it then, but now he thought he could. "I have one in mind for her." Going back over this evening he said, "That was clever, adding people to the party a few at a time. The big family event didn't seem as overwhelming as I expected."
"I wanted to avoid freaking you out on your birthday."
"I think Angela's right. You're annoying at times, but you really have the big brother thing down." There was really only one thing he could say, encompassing not only the party but also years of friendship. "Thanks."
Then Henry asked the same question he posed at the end of each birthday, "You up for one more year of chaos?"
"Bring it on."
A/N: Trent Lombard and his classic car were featured in Caffrey Envoy.