Chapter 11: Paperwork

White Collar Division, New York. January 2, 2004 – Friday morning.

Jones hadn't been kidding about the paperwork. After a morning briefing that included a lot of teasing from Jones and Tricia about his rescue of Charlotte the cat, Neal spent the first half of the day writing his report of what had happened at the Sinclair home, and completing the dreaded forms for his trip to the hospital.

Mid-afternoon he received the double finger-point, summoning him up to Peter's office.

"Collins didn't waste any time trying to sell the book. He reached out to the best-known buyers before we could even warn them. As you guessed, they sent him away until he could provide provenance. He's already called us, ostensibly to make sure you're recovered, and requested your phone number. If he contacts you, send him to these people." Peter handed Neal a business card.

"Hurst Collectibles."

"They do us some favors occasionally. Set up a meet, let us know, and we'll pick him up at Hurst."

Neal pocketed the card. "You didn't give me another case this morning. I'm done with the paperwork from the last one."

"Not quite. I have a couple more forms for you. Here's the first one." Peter handed a sheet of paper to Neal.

"Request for Psychological Therapy? Peter, I'm not doing this."

"You need it, and it's free. What's the problem?"

"Are you kidding? You don't see a problem with baring my soul to some stranger, who's going to put everything he finds into an FBI file? So much for keeping my time in WITSEC a secret."

"You're refusing?"

"I'm not ready for this. And when I am, I want to talk to someone who's on my side."

"There aren't sides in psychology."

Neal crossed his arms. "You're being naïve. There are people in the Bureau who don't want me here, and they would latch onto this as an excuse to get rid of me. They'd say that needing a psychologist after my first undercover case is evidence that I can't handle this work."

Peter sighed. "I understand where you're coming from, but I'm not letting go of this. I will find a way to get you the help you need, and to make you accept it."

"Bring it on."

Peter's lips twitched into a reluctant smile. "That's really not the attitude you're supposed to take with your boss. Or with your health."

Neal took a less defensive posture. "I might be a little stubborn about these things."

"Oh, ya think?" Peter's voice dripped with sarcasm.

Grateful that Peter wasn't pushing the matter, Neal was willing to be generous in return, and said, "Once when I was sick, I refused to go to the hospital and Henry took me to the morgue, instead. He said that's where I was going to end up, and he threatened to leave me there unless I agreed to see a doctor."

"Did it work?" Peter asked.

"Yeah."

"I'll remember that. And I'm glad you mentioned your friend. After my chat with Henry Winslow, I have more questions about him."

Neal leaned forward. "Before you say anything else, I want to thank you, Peter. I know you have a lot of resources available to you, and if you wanted, you could have pulled all kinds of information about Henry already. The fact that you still don't know much about him, tells me that you haven't resorted to that. It tells me you trust me enough to believe me when I say he's not dangerous. In fact, I think of the topic of Henry as being a barometer of your trust. And... Well, it means a lot to me."

Peter studied Neal a moment and then said, "Do you return that trust?"

"Of course."

"And do you understand that I can learn to trust you, but still not trust this Winslow character?"

"He's harmless. Well, mostly harmless."

"That's an opinion, not a statement of fact. When I spoke to him, he made a point of coming across as ruthless, not harmless. I need more information about him, to reconcile your view of him with my experience of him. The fact is, some of the things he said directly contradicted things you've said."

"What did he say that has you concerned?" Neal asked.

"When he said he was your oldest friend, he also mentioned the Marshals. He made it clear, without specifically saying it, that he knew you'd been in WITSEC. And yet you said you didn't know you were in WITSEC growing up, and that you hadn't mentioned it to anyone after you found out. How does he know you, and know about your situation? How is it that you trust him enough not to betray your secret?"

Interesting. Neal would have to ask Henry why he chose to make that revelation to Peter. "You must have a theory."

"I've considered that he might work for the Marshals. Or he might have been a friend from St. Louis who happened to be present when Ellen told you the truth."

"Or both," suggested Neal. "A friend who went to work for the Marshals because of what he heard."

"Is that it?" Peter asked.

"No, but it's a really good theory."

"Theory isn't going to cut it. I want the truth."

Neal considered his options. Information about Henry was valuable, serving as a bargaining tool when dealing with Peter. He needed to share enough now to appease Peter, but still withhold enough for future use. And of course, there was information he wasn't free to share at all. "Let me get this straight. If I tell you how I first met Henry, and how he came to know I was in WITSEC, you'll be satisfied?"

"For now."

"Once upon a time –"

"I'm looking for the truth," Peter interrupted. "Not a fairy tale."

"Picky. I'm trying to introduce a little dramatic structure into what is otherwise a boring, prosaic list of facts."

"Don't embellish."

"Fine. Don't blame me if it puts you to sleep. My mom had a best friend growing up. That friend is Henry's mom. Mrs. Winslow moved away from D.C. when she got married, but still had family in the area and returned for holidays and vacations, bringing Henry with her. He's a little more than two years older than me. Neither of us remembers the first time we met, but he was a presence in my life since shortly after I was born. That's why Henry says he's my oldest friend."

"You don't actually remember him from your pre-WITSEC days?"

"No, I don't."

"And did your mother mention him, or his mother, when you were in St. Louis?"

"No, and I get where you're going with this, Peter. Henry is the one who told me our moms were best friends, but he had evidence, like old family photos. Our moms were in each other's weddings. His mom was my godmother when I was christened, and my mom was his godmother."

"Christening. Your parents were Catholic?"

"Yeah, but when the Marshals moved us, our new identity had us as Protestants, so I wasn't raised Catholic."

"If your mothers were best friends growing up, then they probably had a lot in common."

"That's a safe bet," Neal confirmed.

"That's why you called Winslow the alternate you. You assume that if it weren't for your father's crimes sending you into WITSEC, your life would have been a lot like his."

Neal nodded. "It's something Henry and I have talked about."

"You skipped the part of the story about how he learned you were in WITSEC."

"I didn't skip it. I simply paused for Q&A. I can resume whenever you're ready."

"Get on with it."

"When my father confessed to murder, it was a rough time for my mom. She asked her best friend for support. Mrs. Winslow and Henry came to D.C., and were at our home when the Marshals came to take us away. Mrs. Winslow helped my mom pack, and helped spread the story the Marshals had decided on, that my grandparents didn't want my parents' chaos in their lives and cut off all contact with us, and that we moved away to make a fresh start."

"You were three and he was what, five?"

"Almost six."

"He actually remembers the Marshals taking you away?"

"Yeah, it was a big deal. He didn't understand at the time what was going on, but he figured it out as he got older, from some conversations he overheard between his parents."

"You never saw him again, while you were in WITSEC?"

"That's right."

Peter wore his puzzle-solving frown. "There's something you're not telling me. How did you connect again after you left WITSEC? And why? And if you hadn't met since you were three and almost six, how did you even know each other?"

"Excellent questions. But not part of our bargain."

"You realize that not knowing the answers is going to stick in my craw."

"I trust you'll be fair, Peter. I kept my side of the bargain."

Peter picked up another form. "I said there were two forms I needed to give you. I was going to feel sorry about this one, but now I'm thinking of it as payback."

Neal took the form. "Firearm certification? Peter, I already told you I'm not going to carry a gun."

"All the rest of my team were certified at Quantico, so it's not an issue for them. However, you held a gun on Marie Sinclair the other night. Either you get certified as knowing what you're doing with a firearm, or you face an official reprimand."

"I'll –"

"And the reprimand is not an option. It makes it harder for the team to accept you, and it reflects badly on me. I'm taking you to the firing range personally."

There was a knock on the door. Peter nodded and Jones stepped in. "Agent Burke, do you have a moment?"

"Come in, Jones. Neal, we're going to get this over with, so you don't have time to stress over it. Go grab your things. We're leaving for the firing range as soon as I'm done with Jones. I'll drop you at your home when we're done."

###

Jones closed the door to Peter's office after Neal left. "You asked me to run a deep background check on Henry Winslow? Since he's not a suspect or person of interest in an active investigation, I don't have a case number to file with the requests. But I found a form for that kind of thing. I need your signature, and then I'll have an authorization number the systems will accept."

Peter took a deep breath. He wanted that information about Winslow, but wanted Neal's trust more. "Hold off on that, for now. It isn't as urgent as I thought."

Jones nodded. Peter expected that he'd leave, but instead, after a glance down at the bullpen he asked, "You're taking Caffrey to target practice?"

"That's right."

"After that flashback he had about someone being shot, you think he can handle it?"

"I honestly don't know what to expect. He seemed fine taking away and holding Marie Sinclair's gun. He said he's been in situations with armed guards in the past without any issues, but something has changed. I need to get a feel for what he can handle before I send him back into a situation where someone's got a gun."

###

Peter was impressed with Neal's ability to handle a gun. When he held a firearm he was serious and efficient, and his aim was fantastic. He aced the standard target practice, as well as the video scenario where you try to shoot the bad guy and not the innocent victims.

"You never used a gun in any of your crimes?" Peter had to ask when they were leaving.

"I told you, I hate guns."

"You didn't get this skilled without practice."

"I grew up wanting to be a cop, like in the stories my mom told me about my dad. It was a skill a cop needs." They had almost reached the exit, when a door opened to another area. Neal's eyes widened. "Are they playing laser tag in there?"

"It's a multi-partner evasion role-play, with light-based weapons."

"Laser tag. We have to try that. C'mon, Peter." Neal's expression held an almost irresistible combination of mischief, fun and hope.

Peter hated to extinguish the light in the kid's eyes, but had to say, "We can't. I promised El that this time I'd make it to the dry cleaners before they closed."

"And you know I'd win."

"In your dreams." Peter drove to a dry cleaners in Brooklyn, aware he'd have to backtrack to drop Neal at Riverside Drive. He didn't mind the long drive, because he wanted time to observe Neal's reactions. As they left the target practice, he was calm and chatty, seemingly unaffected by firing a gun. But by the time Peter was looking for a parking place in front of the dry cleaners, he noticed a fine trembling in the young man's hands. "You hanging out with the Ellingtons tonight?" Peter asked as he pulled into the parking spot.

Neal reached forward to turn up the heat, probably trying to convince Peter the trembling was due to the temperature. "They're going to a club tonight, someplace they used to go when they first got married. There won't be many more days Byron is strong enough to go out."

"I didn't get a chance to talk to your friend Mozzie the other night. You think he'll be around when I drop you off?"

"He's got something going on."

"I'll be right back," Peter said, and hurried to retrieve his clothing before the dry cleaners closed. He didn't like the idea of leaving Neal alone right now, and it sounded like he would be alone if Peter stuck to the plan of dropping him off at Riverside Drive. Returning to the car he placed a call to El, who for once was working later than he was. After a quick conversation, he pocketed the phone, laid the clothing down carefully in the back of the car, and returned to the driver's seat. "You like Chinese food?" he asked Neal.

A/N: In 2004, no one was saying "there's an app for that," so it amused me to have Jones find "there's a form for that" in the FBI.